The Hunt Ball

I didn’t go home, but round to Charley’s stable apartment. He was just making his industrial-strength tea. Once settled with a full mug, I came to the point.

'What do you know about Vera not riding with the hunt today?'

'She no longer has a horse. I mean she has plenty but her grey hunter is gone.'

'What? Explain!'

'Sold it, I think - yesterday a man in a van from Lowestoft came to collect it. She told me to sign the paperwork and put the company stamp on what looked to me, like a bill of sale.'

'Why did a numpty oik like you have to sign?'

'Steady with the abuse. I’m a trusted employee.'

'Course you are, but that is a bit strange.'

'And she was a bit attached to the horrible nag. She came the evening before to say goodbye and give me instructions - there were floods of tears - then she fled.'

I was silent while we supped tea. I was in shock. Why would she offload a beast she was so fond of? I broke the