It was a perfect spring day. Thickening crimson buds fretted a love-in-the-mist blue sky. The banks were draped with crocuses of the same Lenten purple as the altar cloth. A host of golden daffodils, retarded by the bitter winter, had just reached their prime and nodded their pale heads in approval.
Thus Helen falls for Rupert, and I fell for Jilly Cooper: against our upbringing and our better judgement, and despite every single red flag.
Riders wasn't my first Jilly Cooper, but the first I sought out, after a few stolen pages of another under dappled sun on Guide Camp as a teenager.
It starts deceptively happily, with gymkhanas and very proper sexless dates. But we mustn't be fooled: at every point every character is being judged by every other, and found wanting. Character flaws, damaging childhoods, trauma and tragedy: frankly it's a wonder any one of them made it to adulthood.
Rupert's friendship with Billy predates the neglect and misery of his childhood, so unsurprisingly it is the only healthy and unconditional human relationship he has.
There couldn't be much wrong with Rupert if he inspired friendship like this.
Rupert shivered, suddenly reminded of the desolation of Sunday nights at school, summoned by bells to Evensong, followed by cold ham and bread and marge for supper, and everyone else coming back feeling homesick from days out with their parents. Rupert had never really had a proper home to feel sick about.
And indeed it will be some years before he finds one.
We discussed on the general thread that Rupert is a bit, well, rapey. In Riders he has precisely zero respect for any woman's body autonomy (the very first time he and Helen meet he thrusts his hand into her jumper) and once he has any declared rights over a woman he takes absolute possession of her body.
With a colossal feeling of triumph he pushed her back on to the bed and began to move downwards, kissing her ribs, then her belly.
"No," she gasped, grabbing his head.
Firmly he removed her hands. "Shut up. You're mine now, to do exactly what I like with."
The foursome in Kenya is deeply, deeply troubling. Billy doesn't seem to realise how unwilling Helen is until he has raped her; Rupert is more concerned with how his friends will perceive them, and his response to finding her as dry as a marathon runner's throat is to declare her "useless"; Janey is so turned on by Rupert she doesn't stop to think about it. All three of them assault her together, until she escapes.
Any minute she expected an enraged Rupert to appear and drag her back to the torture chamber.
But the others were enjoying themselves. [...] Playing games of their own, they carried on till morning.
Days later, she falls for Jake: physically and romantically the exact opposite of Rupert. It was inevitable, surely, and as little as I like her I have the greatest sympathy. But I'll never forgive Jake as long as I live.
When I first read Riders I identified strongly with Tory. Poor unloved Tory - considered a fat failure, whilst in truth neither fat nor failing. Jilly is horribly judgemental about an ounce of spare fat on anyone, but she shows us that however miserable Tory might be, she is beautiful and perfect:
She was tallish and big boned, with a huge bust that bounced up and down as she walked. However she stood on the scales, she weighed eleven stone.
(Note: at 5'8", "tallish", that's a BMI of 23.4, and she promptly loses nine pounds when she falls in love, taking her to 22.5)
Actually she was much less far without her clothes on; rather splendid, in fact.
Tory is capable and loyal and loving and stoic and all the characteristics of a balanced human being. She doesn't expect Jake to love her; it's enough that she loves him.
"She loved you," said Fen bitterly. "Isa, Darklis, me, the horses, Wolf, were only extensions of how much she loved you. She knew you didn't love her, but she felt you needed her. That made life easier, that was enough."
"Oh, Christ," Jake groaned, putting his head in his hands. "I only realised in LA how much I loved her. [...] She always seemed so strong that she could cope with anything. I didn't realise I meant so much to her."
[...]
Frantic, he took her in his arms, trying to warm some life into the frail body.
"Don't die," he pleaded for the thousandth time. "Please don't die."
"Jake," came the faintest, faintest whisper.
I was going to talk about snobbery and class, and the animals, and the culture of celebrity, and the freedom of wealth, and Billy, and Malise, and political marriages, and fidelity, but I can't, because tears are streaming down my face yet again and my nose is running. So to cheer myself up, and to evidence Jilly's brilliance, I'll leave you with my favourite exchange:
"Will it be very fancy tonight?"
"Not particularly."
"Shall I wear pants?
Rupert's eyes gleamed. That was getting somewhere. "Certainly not," he said.
[...]
"Chicken, you are wearing pants. What's this?" he pinged the elastic."
"Panties," said Helen quickly. "You thought I'd go to a party without panties?"