by Sasha Morgan
‘Oh, I see,’ replied Megan faintly, completely overawed by the splendour of such surroundings.
‘I’ll show you the great hall.’ He ushered her through the first door off the hallway into a long room, which ran the full length of the building. A huge oak table stood in the middle, decorated with silver candelabras, family portraits proudly stared down from the high walls. ‘We only use this room for large family occasions.’
That’s probably why it’s so cold, thought Megan, wincing at the thought of what their energy bills would be.
The next room they entered was the drawing room. This was much smaller and far more homely. Again, family portraits surrounded them, along with smaller landscape pictures. The marble fireplace was lit, with a small crackling fire, giving a warm, cosy feeling. A coffee cup left on the side table and a crumpled newspaper on the Chesterfield sofa were obvious signs that this room was certainly lived in. The library was Megan’s favourite room, with its mahogany panelling and endless rows of books. A mobile stepladder was suspended from the highest shelf. The dark wood floor was covered with Persian rugs and the whole space was illuminated by the light streaming through the large stained-glass window at the bottom of the room. The pictures showcased the Cavendish family pedigree through marriage from various earls and possible royalty, judging by the crowns that were worn. Megan longed to ask, but didn’t want to appear crass. A dried flower arrangement filled the large, tiled fireplace, inviting Megan to investigate further at the portrait above it. It was of Tobias, recently painted, by the look of it. The likeness was uncanny, with his sparkly green eyes, dark shiny hair, and the signature grin playing round his lips.
‘This is brilliant, Tobias!’ she gasped in awe, thinking her own effort would be insignificant compared to this.
Sensing her unease again, Tobias moved to stand behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.
‘You can do better,’ he whispered gently in her ear.
She halted. His breath felt hot, caressing her neck. His hand was still on her shoulder, warm and heavy. Her chest started to pound. Megan was unnerved by the effect he had on her. Not for the first time she wondered just how much of a distraction Tobias would prove to be. To her, painting the Hall was an important commission that may set the course for a new, much-longed-for career. But was it just a game to him?
Chapter 19
With heavy hearts, Gary and Tracy Belcher closed the door for the last time on their small terraced house. They hauled the last of the removal boxes that contained their remaining belongings into their new Range Rover complete with personal number plate: ‘B3LCH’. Tracy wanted to take their pine double bed and her grandmother’s rocking chair, Gary his forty-two-inch plasma television. But apart from those things, their clothes, crockery, framed photographs and cushions, they had basically left the house and its entire contents to the young couple who had bought the house, much to their delight.
Feelings were mixed as Gary and Tracy drove down the motorway to the Cotswolds. The obvious sadness of saying goodbye was tinged with a sense of relief. Both Gary and Tracy had witnessed the looks on friends’ faces when learning of their move. After the initial surprise, the Belchers couldn’t help but detect a foreboding disapproval. Why the need to go? Were they too good for them now? And more to the point, who was going to pay for everything? Once realising the gravy train was about to depart, resentment set in. Snide remarks were made, making them feel uncomfortable. In the end Gary and Tracy had sold their home for a song, desperate to get out. They hardly needed the money and the purchase of the Gate House in Treweham had gone smoothly. Once they’d decided to go ahead with buying the Gate House, it had just been a matter of signing and releasing the money. Oh so simple when compared to the hoops they had had to jump through to get a starter mortgage. Money really did make a difference, they were beginning to learn in many ways.
The one thing they clung to was that they had each other. There was no change to the way they felt, their ideals, aspirations, or what they wanted out of life. Gary and Tracy had always wished for a simple, safe, family life and that’s what they were going to get, but in another location. One free from jealousy, assumptions, opinions and, in some cases, hatred.
Tracy had opened an anonymous, hand posted letter containing malicious threats. A demand of £10,000 was to be sent to a PO Box, unless they wanted to come to some harm or, even more terrifying, they wanted their parents to come to some harm. That was the last straw. Two new homes were bought for their parents. Gary and Tracy moved in with Tracy’s mum and dad for the last week, before completion of the sale of the house, and emptying it of the last bits and pieces they wanted to take with them. Tracy was relieved that it was a Monday, so Cut Above was closed and she didn’t have to suffer Sharon glaring at her from the shop window, arms crossed, eyes narrowed with scorn. It had all gone terribly wrong. It was time to go. Tracy’s eyes filled with tears as they slowly drove away from a happy little home that had such fond memories.
Gary put his hand on her lap. ‘Don’t cry, Tracy. It’s for the best.’
‘I know. It’s just so sad to be leaving with all this ill feeling.’
Gary sighed. ‘That’s human nature, Trace.’
Together they drove past the terraced streets, where children played, mums pushed prams and corner shops thrived. They drove past the old cotton mills, now renovated to apartments, through the busy town, bustling with workers, students and traffic spewing exhaust fumes. They drove past the magnificent Town Hall, the market square, the railway station, past the docklands and onto the motorway to a fresh start, a new life.
It literally was a breath of fresh air arriving in Treweham, surrounded by lush, green meadows bursting with wildflowers. A brook bubbled gently and the cooing of a wood pigeon could be heard in the distance. They had collected the keys to the Gate House from the estate offices and had called in at the local pub for a bite to eat. Sitting outside The Templar on wooden benches, they clinked two glasses of Prosecco in celebration to the future.
‘Here’s to us, Trace.’ Gary put his arm round his wife. He could see she was still slightly edgy about the move.
It had been overwhelming, considering what they had experienced, he thought: going from being a typical working-class couple in the North-West of England, to winning three million pounds, losing your identity, your friends, your family being threatened, and now relocating alone to a completely new place. Whilst Treweham was charming with its stone cottages and pretty countryside, it wasn’t home. Not yet. Gary knew he had to be positive, for Tracy’s sake. For both their sakes.
‘Do you remember coming here on honeymoon?’ he asked, keen to recall the cheery times they had spent in Treweham.
‘Yes.’ Tracy’s face lit up. ‘They had a barbecue and all the villagers came. It was lovely, wasn’t it?’
‘It was. That’s us now, Trace, we’re two of the villagers.’
‘Yes,’ she smiled, ‘we are.’
‘There’s another do here tomorrow. Racing on the big screen. One of the jockeys, Dylan Delany, has got some connection to Treweham.’
‘Really? Let’s go, it’ll be fun.’
That’s more like it; his old Tracy was back, full of enthusiasm, a bit of bounce. ‘Let’s,’ he replied, squeezing her tight.
Chapter 20
The Templar was heaving. Megan, Finula and Dermot were working flat out behind the bar. On the far side of the wall hung a huge screen, its volume vibrated round the pub, adding to the already high-pitched excitement. Seamus and Tobias sat close by, eager to see Dylan riding Midas Touch, a horse from the Fox’s’ training yard. Seamus’ dad was at Newmarket, overseeing operations, which was precisely why Seamus was in Treweham with Tobias. The last thing Dylan needed was a potential disagreement between father and son, so Seamus had wisely decided to stay at home. Every so often Megan would catch a glimpse of Tobias through the crowd. She watched how his eyes looked intently at the screen, deep in thought as he sipped his brandy. Seamus
, too, looked sombre. This was obviously a big deal to him: after all, it was his business, his livelihood.
Finally the signature tune of the afternoon racing programme blasted out from the speakers, to the cheers of the crowd. The pleasant face of the presenter came into focus, welcoming all to the Newmarket races. Soon she was interviewing a retired jockey for his thoughts on the 2000 Guineas winner, having won the prestigious race three times before in the nineties.
‘Well, clearly they’re all top-class animals to be here, but with the drying ground, I’d have to favour Jo’s Comet and Midas Touch.’
This sent the pub wild. Tobias and Seamus allowed themselves tight smiles.
‘And, of course, Midas Touch has the assistance of Dylan Delany in the saddle,’ replied the presenter with gusto.
‘Yes, who rides Newmarket better than Dylan Delany?’
This caused even more cheering and clapping. Flora was sitting right at the front, on a table next to Tobias and Seamus, with two friends from the stables. Her heart was thumping wildly at the thought of seeing her lover on the big screen. No one knew about her and Dylan, even though they had been meeting quite regularly. It was her precious secret. The TV presenter then moved on to Sean Fox, as Midas Touch’s trainer. He stood tall and proud. Seamus gave a deep breath, bracing himself for his father’s concise, no-nonsense answers. Almost everyone in The Templar had placed a bet on Dylan winning the 2000 Guineas, at good odds too, having known early on he was racing today.
Gary and Tracy, being caught up in the thrill of it all, had decided to put a wager on as well. They sat near the bar and had got chatting to the locals. It was hard not to get swept along with the camaraderie. Everyone was jubilant as the drinks flowed and last-minute bets were placed urgently via mobile phone.
Only Seamus and Tobias appeared serious. Megan wondered how much money Tobias had put on Dylan winning his race. Judging by the way he was acting, a lot. Only once had he smiled and acknowledged her. The 2000 Guineas was scheduled to run after the first two races, allowing anticipation to build. The atmosphere was electric. Applause and cheers announced the end of each race, or groans and ripped tickets thrown in despair. Then the big moment arrived. The 2000 Guineas was next.
The camera zoomed into the parade ring, where the snorting horses were met by their jockeys. It was a hive of activity. The jockeys, trainers and owners were having final discussions. Then the camera closed in on the most famous jockey in the race, Dylan. He was talking to Sean Fox. Gone was the carefree playboy. Instead his expression held absolute attention, utterly focused on the job in hand. He was wearing silks in the owner’s colours: claret and gold hoops. His dark curls could just be seen tucked under his cap. Instead of his blue eyes twinkling, they looked piercingly into the close-up of the camera, making every woman watching sigh. Flora thought her chest would burst with pride. Megan watched Tobias grip his glass as he stared at the screen. He’d been a gambler most of his life and he’d enjoyed a few good wins. But he’d never stood to win ninety grand on one race before. Seamus, too, was as still as a statue, waiting for the race to begin. The horses were mounted and made their way to the starting line. The sun was warm on Dylan’s back and his confidence was growing with every stride as he cantered down to the start. He circled Midas Touch behind the stalls as the starter called out the jockeys’ names and the handlers began to load them up. Within seconds the starter had pulled the lever and they were off.
Dylan quickly caught hold of Midas Touch’s mane as he bolted forward and immediately set into his stride. Once his body had adjusted to the pace, he let go and settled him into the middle of the field as planned. Dylan knew the race would not continue to be run at such speed, so calmed Midas Touch and waited for the pace to slow. Shouts of frustration from The Templar echoed round the bar, the viewers thinking Dylan had lost his stride. Tobias and Seamus thought better; although tense, they knew to trust Dylan’s tactics. Horses thundered past Midas Touch as Dylan waited to make his mark. Searching for a gap, he moved his horse into position. Seamus leant forward in his chair, knowing this was the moment. Dylan paced up his speed and passed two horses, causing cheers from the pub. Again Dylan looked ahead and saw a space. Taking advantage of it and his speed he immediately directed Midas Touch to ride through it, overtaking another rider. More shouts blasted out from The Templar. Now they were facing the run to the finish. Dylan felt Midas Touch hit his stride. All he had to do was steer him and they’d be certain to win. The horse directly in front of him began to slow down. Dylan pulled to go round on the outside, when suddenly Jo’s Comet appeared from nowhere and knocked him off balance towards the rails. Midas Touch briefly lost momentum and Dylan found himself tightly boxed in, unable to find a gap to manoeuvre.
In the stands Sean Fox gripped his binoculars with rage. ‘He’s got himself boxed in,’ he hissed through gritted teeth. Meanwhile, the bookmakers by the railings smiled. A pale-faced Tobias looked away from the screen with a gulp, as if his last chance had died. The horse in front of Dylan was losing ground so quickly that Jo’s Comet had no alternative but to go on, leaving Dylan behind him with space to move, but now lengths off the leader. Dylan gripped hard on the reins and once again Midas Touch was running. The horse galloped as though giving his all but, a furlong from home, Dylan took his whip and gave him one good crack behind the saddle. The response was immediate. In an instant Midas Touch took off, moving up a gear like a high-performance car. With a hundred yards to run Dylan gave him one more crack, and then rode him out with full force. Fifty yards from the post he passed all the horses and won by a length and a half.
‘He did it!’ Seamus bounced up from his seat and punched the air.
Tobias knocked back his drink, then looked towards Megan behind the bar with a huge beam on his face. Hell, he was handsome, she thought, as her heart fluttered uncontrollably.
The whole pub erupted with whoops of joy, people jumped up and down in delight, and champagne was ordered. Gary and Tracy basked in the atmosphere. It felt so good to be part of this community.
In the midst of this pandemonium Nick appeared at the bar. Finula ignored him, leaving Megan to serve.
‘Hi,’ he smiled. ‘A glass of red, please.’ Megan poured and handed him his drink. ‘Do you know how Ted is?’ he asked, handing over his money.
‘I saw him the other day. He’s OK, but didn’t want to go back to his cottage. He’ll have gone into a care home by now.’ Megan’s face dropped a little, remembering her visit to Ted. ‘I must go and see him there.’ Nick cupped her chin with this thumb and forefinger.
‘Hey, don’t worry. Ted’ll be fine.’
‘A brandy, please, Megan.’ Tobias slammed down his glass on the bar and glared at Nick. Megan jumped slightly and took his glass. Nick shrugged, smirked and left.
‘There you go.’ Megan handed Tobias his drink.
‘Thanks. Was he bothering you?’ He nodded towards Nick, who was standing talking to a group of people near the door.
‘No,’ she frowned, ‘he was just asking about Ted.’
Tobias didn’t look convinced. Then his shoulders relaxed.
‘Help me celebrate my winnings, have dinner with me tonight?’
With him looking like that, how could she refuse? Yet she had to.
‘I’m sorry, I’ll be working here until late tonight.’
‘Tomorrow, then?’ He wasn’t taking no for an answer.
‘Yes, but I’ll cook dinner. You come to mine.’ He was dangerously attractive and she felt safer being around him on her own territory.
‘Fine,’ he smiled, ‘I’ll be there.’ Then he leant over the bar and kissed her on the lips. A quick, uncomplicated, innocent kiss, which left her dizzy. He took his drink and returned to Seamus.
‘I saw that,’ whispered Finula in her ear.
‘He didn’t mean anything by it, he’s just excited about Dylan winning the race,’ Megan said with ease, making light of it, even though her chest was thundering.
‘It was a warning to Nick,’ replied Finula. They were distracted by clapping when the screen showed a triumphant Dylan entering the winner’s enclosure. The buzz of excitement was palpable as Midas Touch was welcomed back by a cheering crowd, and at the front was Sean Fox. The TV presenter quickly ran to Dylan and lifted her microphone up to him.
‘That was a close shave, Dylan!’ Dylan gave a lazy smile: back was the assured, confident Romeo.
‘All in a day’s work. I knew Midas Touch could do it.’
‘Well, he certainly did. Congratulations! I take it you’ll be celebrating tonight?’
‘I think so.’ He winked, making the reporter weak at the knees.
Megan smiled to herself watching Dylan on the screen with his self-assured way.
‘Now what’s making you smile, Megan?’ Nick was back at the bar. ‘Not that kiss from his lordship, surely?’
‘I was smiling at Dylan, actually.’ Megan blushed slightly, feeling a touch defensive.
Then Nick leant forward over the bar and said in a low tone, ‘Don’t be taken in, Megan.’
‘Sorry?’
‘With Tobias. You look just like his dead girlfriend. He’s only after a substitute. You’re better than that and deserve so much more.’
Megan stared, dumbfounded. Nick patted her hand and walked away.
Chapter 21
Celebrate he did. Dylan shared a bottle of champagne with the grooms from the training yard, Sean Fox and the owners of Midas Touch. He wouldn’t be racing for a few days, so he allowed himself to relax and enjoy the merriment.
Sean Fox slapped him hard on the back. ‘Well done, son. I knew you’d do it!’ Dylan took his bravado casually, knowing full well the wrath he would have incurred had he not won. Although the atmosphere at Newmarket was buoyant, Dylan couldn’t wait to get back to Treweham, to really celebrate with his friends in The Templar. He knew they’d all have been watching, cheering him on, and it warmed him to picture it. For a moment he thought of Flora – would she be there? Imagining her slim, toned body turned him on like a switch. Winning always made him horny, and he was a winner.
