Page 41 of Short Stack 3

Guy hugs Ivo and then shakes my hand, his thin face full of a lively charm. “Lovely to meet you,” he says. He lights a cigarette with a shaking hand. “You can watch me fall off a horse more times than a stuntman.”

“And probably less gracefully,” Ralph adds. He looks at me. “We were with the sponsors last night, and they misguidedly put on a free bar. Guy is regretting all his choices this morning.”

Guy nods. “If I can do a clear round without throwing up, I might marry Isabel.”

“Surely life holds more for me than that,” she says, offering me a wink before walking away. She disappears around the side of a bright pink motorhome, and I turn back to the others.

Ivo shoulders his bag. “Ready?” he asks Ralph.

“Of course.Vanity Fairrented a motorhome for the day. All your gear is in there.”

I fall into step next to them, waving goodbye to Guy, who is now sitting in a camp chair, his face turned to the sun.

“How was Avignon?” Ivo asks Ralph.

“It was good. We did well. We were at a huge equestrian event there,” he says for my benefit, and I smile in acknowledgement.

We get to the shiny silver motorhome. The door is open, and the light spilling out is ultra bright and clear, a sign that Rowan is here and Ivo’s lights have been set up.

I come to a stop. “I might have a wander around the showground while you’re doing that.”

Ivo stops immediately, his face clouding. “Are you sure?”

I grin at him. “Absolutely. I’ll take Bertie for a quick walk.”

“I’m sure there are some concrete roads around here somewhere.”

“Cheeky twat,” I advise him, and he laughs. “I’ll meet you later. I’ll be the one who doesn’t know anything about horses.” I grin at Ralph. “Good to meet you, Ralph.”

“And you. Did Ivo mention dinner?”

“Yes, I’m looking forward to it. Bring Guy.”

“Will do, if he promises to behave himself.”

“I wouldn’t hold out much hope for that,” Ivo observes.

Ralph waves and vanishes into the motorhome, and Ivo grabs my arm, dropping a kiss on my lips. “Be good,” he instructs me.

“When am I ever not that, Ivo Robinson?”

“Too many times to count.”

“I don’t hear you complaining. It’s when I’m at my most fun.”

“Be off with you.” He steals a final kiss and goes into the motorhome.

I stick my head through the door, watching as he unpacks his camera, his face set and concentrated.

“This way, I think,” he says, eyeing the lights and pushing Ralph into a chair.

“I’m not Barbie.”

“She’s much prettier, but I’m sure I can create enough magic to make you appear alittlebit attractive.”

“Wanker,” Ralph says, laughing.

I hear a sigh behind me, and I turn to see Rowan, Ivo’s assistant. He’d come on as a temp last year when Ivo was busy with a show and several commissions, but he’d stayed afterwards, which we’re all happy about. He’s wild, snarky, and inappropriate at least ten times a day, so he fits perfectly in our little family of friends.

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