”People kept coming in, stamping the snow off their feet. Jake looked at Tory with that measure of disapproval he always bestowed on strangers. Cow parsley along the motorway verges had given way to hogweed, holding its flat disks up to a cloudy grey sky, through which the sun shone opaque like an Alka Seltzer. Next day they drove the horses in the lorry to Heathrow to meet Rupert and Billy.
”“I don’t control horses by brute strength,” said Jake, ‘and my guess is that he won’t jump for Rupert any more. “Hi,” he said. “Shows how bloody difficult the course must be,” said Rupert. The vet’s been here since two o’clock.
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