by Stacy Gregg
Georgie opened it. Inside she could see a peek of gold-embossed card.
“They’re invitations to the owners’ enclosure at the Churchill Downs Racecourse,” Riley said. Georgie saw the words Firecracker Handicap were emblazoned at the top. The date of the race was also there and sure enough it was next Saturday – the same date as the showjumping at the Kentucky Horse Park.
“I booked them for you ages ago. There are four tickets so you can bring the girls with you,” Riley said. “Mom and Dad already have their tickets so you can sit with them.”
Georgie up at Riley. “So you still want me to come?”
Riley nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t pick up the phone when you called. I just needed some time to think. But whenever I hear your voice on my answerphone all I can think is how much I miss you. You’re my best friend, Georgie.”
“You’re mine too.”
“It really hurt, you know, finding out about you and Conrad.”
“It was a stupid mistake,” Georgie said, “and I’m so, so, sorry. Is there a chance we can put it behind us?”
Riley raked a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I can do that,” he said.
Then he added, “So you’ll come and watch me race?”
He noticed the anxious look on her face. “Is there something wrong, Georgie? You don’t have other plans that day, do you?”
Chapter Fourteen
Georgie shifted anxiously in her seat and looked out the window of the horse truck. It was still dark outside, the dawn light was only just beginning to seep across the pastures as they approached the Kentucky Horse Park. So far the morning routine had gone like clockwork and they were on schedule to reach the grounds by six am. In the back of the truck Dominic’s second-string horses – Banner, The Optimist, Flair and Navajo – were rugged and bandaged for the journey. She had the horses manes plaited and their tails pulled. The tack was organised into labelled sections for each horse and she had the studs ready to fit into their shoes as soon as she unloaded them.
To do all of this in time for the competition today Georgie had worked until midnight the night before, packing out the truck and grooming the horses. Then she had set her alarm next to a cot bed in the stables, and hunkered down in her jods with a sleeping bag, using her jumper for a pillow. She slept until four am when she had forced herself to get up again and started work once more.
Getting four manes fully plaited in two hours had been hard work, but what other choice did she have? This was the way it had to be if she wanted to watch Riley in the Firecracker this afternoon.
Georgie knew how Dominic Blackwell’s mind worked. If she had asked him for the day off on Saturday to go watch her boyfriend race he would never have agreed. Instead, on Friday afternoon, she had phrased her proposition in a way that Blackwell could understand.
“I need a couple of hours off on Saturday afternoon,” she said. “I know it’s a competition day, but it won’t interfere with your riding. I won’t leave the showgrounds until one pm and I’ll be back again in time to load the horses and take them home. I’ll get everything prepared down to the last detail so that the horses are totally ready – Kennedy won’t need to do a thing apart from tack a couple of them up for you. You won’t even miss me, and I promise that I’ll work all of Sunday for the Grand Prix and the Mirror Jumping to make up for it.”
“I don’t know…” Dominic looked uncertain about losing his best groom, even for an hour or two.
“Please, Dominic,” Georgie begged. “Everything will go fine without me. I’ll leave written instructions for Kennedy. Saturday is just the mid-grade jumping anyway – it’s the Sunday that really matters.”
Dominic Blackwell sighed. “All right. You can go. But not until I’ve jumped in the one-thirty class on Navajo. I want you to warm her up for me.”
If Georgie left the Kentucky Horse Park at two she would be cutting it fine to make it to Riley’s race. But it could be done. And if that was the deal that Dominic Blackwell was putting on the table, then she should take it.
“Thank you, Dominic,” she had replied. “I won’t let you down.”
The atmosphere at the Kentucky Horse Park that morning was bright and friendly. As this was a mid-grade tournament for the professional riders it was a low-key day. The metre-ten class was now underway but Dominic refused point-blank to ride his horses in it.
“Blackwell doesn’t leave the horse truck for less than a metre-twenty,” he had pointed out snootily when Georgie had asked him why the horses weren’t entered in the competition. “It’s beneath me.”
Georgie was so over-prepared she actually had a spare half-hour to watch the final riders compete in the metreten class before she went back to the truck, finished tacking up The Optimist and vaulted onboard to begin the horse’s warm-up.
When her boss emerged from the horse truck in his red jacket and high black boots Georgie was all ready and waiting for him.
Dominic Blackwell looked impressed with Georgie’s fine-tuned timing. And when he took The Optimist into the ring and jumped a clear round on the chestnut gelding, he came back to the truck in a good mood.
“He’s going nicely today,” he said to Georgie, flinging her the reins. “Cool him down for me, will you?”
Georgie couldn’t believe how seamlessly the whole day was going. Team Blackwell was a well-oiled machine, even though she was only one doing the work. Kennedy had pretty much done nothing all day, sitting on the back ramp of the truck on a pile of horse rugs in the sunshine reading Vogue magazine. She’d had less than no interest in helping – which suited Georgie just fine. The last thing she needed was Kennedy messing things up. Right now, Dominic Blackwell’s horses were all performing brilliantly, he was scooping up the prizes in every category and for once he didn’t seem to have any complaints about anything.
At one o’clock, Georgie tacked up Navajo for her jumping class. The mare was looking spectacular. Georgie had really worked hard on her mane and she had a perfect row of well-sewn plaits. She had bandaged her legs with white bandages and put on a matching white saddlecloth.
As she mounted up, Georgie looked at her watch. For the next twenty minutes, Georgie would ride the warm-up on the mare and then, as soon as she handed her over to Dominic Blackwell, she would grab her bag, give Kennedy her list of instructions and climb into Kenny’s waiting pick-up truck and high-tail it to Churchill Downs for The Firecracker Handicap.
It was hard to focus on warming up Navajo when all she could think about was the clock ticking and the fact that she couldn’t wait to leave. Georgie had to really force herself to concentrate on working the mare in. She did canter work to loosen up, then brought her back and did lots of transitions from canter to walk and even a few rein-backs to keep Navajo on her toes. Finally, she popped the mare over the practice jump a couple of times until she felt confident that the horse was ready.
The clock said one twenty-five. She rode the mare on a loose rein back to the horse truck. As she got closer she could see the red pick-up truck. Kenny was there waiting for her, just like he’d promised he would be. And Dominic Blackwell was waiting too.
“Ah, Georgie, excellent!” he said as she vaulted off and handed him Navajo’s reins. “How is she feeling?”
“She’s warmed-up,” Georgie replied. “I’m just going to grab my things now. I’ll be back here by five.”
Dominic Blackwell stuck out his bottom lip and frowned. “Err, no,” he said. “No, I don’t think so.”
Georgie did a double-take. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve changed my mind,” Dominic Blackwell said. “I still have two more classes this afternoon so I’d prefer it if you stayed.”
Georgie felt her heart slamming against her chest, pounding hard and fast. He had to be kidding!
“But Dominic!” She struggled to control the anxiety in her voice. “We discussed this yesterday. I planned everything around this. You said if I did everything that I could go!”
“Did I?” D
ominic Blackwell said airily. “Well, as I said, I’ve changed my mind.”
There was the click of a car door as Kenny got out of the pick-up truck. He’d heard Georgie’s cries of protest and realised that something was wrong. At the back of the horse truck, Kennedy had risen from her comfy position on the horse rugs to see what was going on.
“You made a promise.” Georgie was outraged. “I’ve got everything running perfectly. You have to let me go.”
“Firstly,” Dominic Blackwell raised a silencing hand to her, “I don’t expect my grooms to raise their voices to me, Georgie. And secondly, I don’t have to do anything. I want you here – so you’re staying.”
“But you don’t even need me!” Georgie tried to appeal to Dominic, “Kennedy can cover for me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Dominic snapped, “Kennedy is a waste of space! I need a proper groom!”
“Hey!” Kennedy said. “I’m standing right here!”
“Oh, wise up, Kennedy,” Dominic turned to her. “Despite the fact that you are as useless as a pet rock you’re still getting a pass mark for your apprenticeship, your stepmother has taken care of that. But let’s not kid ourselves here – you’re not head girl material.”
“I’ve got the horses all ready, Dominic,” Georgie insisted. “It’s only two classes this afternoon. Even Kennedy can handle that!”
Dominic shook his head. “Blackwell doesn’t approve,” he said firmly. “You’re staying, Georgie. That’s final.”
“No,” Georgie said. “It isn’t.”
She jumped up the steps of the horse truck and grabbed her bag off the kitchen bench. Then she grabbed the handwritten note that was lying beside it and thrust this at Kennedy.
“Here are your instructions. The next class is at three – you’ll need to have Flair tacked up for that.”
“What are you doing?” Dominic Blackwell’s eyes widened. “I told you, Georgie, you’re not leaving.”
“Really?” Georgie said stomping towards Kenny’s pick-up, “Then why are my feet walking in this direction?”
“Georgie!” Dominic Blackwell shouted after her. “If you go now that’s it! Blackwell will not stand for it! Blackwell will fail you!”
Georgie stopped in her tracks. She turned back around, her whole body trembling. “Well, go ahead!” she said. “Georgie doesn’t care. Georgie is outta here!”
And with that, she threw her bag on to the back of the pick-up and clambered onboard. “Let’s go, Kenny,” she said. “Take me to Churchill Downs.”
Georgie had never seen a racetrack on race day before. In her mind, she’d imagined it would be like Keeneland Park on those mornings when she’d ridden trackwork with Riley. But this was nothing like that. This was racing at full throttle, loud and glamorous. Instead of old jerseys and jeans, the jockeys wore the brightly coloured silks that denoted their stables, and their horses, also dressed in their stable colours, were led by handlers as they paraded in the birdcage beside the track. Thousands of spectators crammed into the stands around the concourse, all hollering and waving their tickets in the air as the horses galloped around the track and came down to the wire of the finish line.
The race-goers were dressed to the hilt and the best dressed of all were gathered on the fifth floor of the grandstands. This was the famed ‘Millionaires Row’ – the most exclusive private seating area in the whole of Churchill Downs. Here, the rich and the famous rubbed shoulders with royalty. Kenny had led Georgie here after a quick pit stop at the ladies loo where she had got changed in a cubicle, wiggling out of her Blainford uniform and pulling on the fabulous yellow Chanel sundress that Alice had kindly lent her again. Kenny, on the other hand, was still in his usual attire – a pair of dirty old Wrangler jeans, and a ripped plaid shirt.
“It’s OK,” he said to the security guard on the entrance as he handed him the ticket. “I’m not coming in. This is for the young lady.”
He gave Georgie a grin. “You go ahead and have fun. Millionaires’ Row ain’t my scene. Riley needs me down at the stables.”
Have fun! Georgie would far rather be down at the stables too. The room was swarming with women in brilliantly coloured cocktail dresses and enormous hats, and men dressed in sharp suits. Some were in top hats and morning suits like they wore in the pictures she’d seen of the races at Ascot. The room was buzzing with energy and excitement as they drank champagne and sat at tables with waiters hovering around them offering food on silver trays.
“Georgie!” She heard her name being called above the noise of the crowd and then saw Alice waving frantically at her. She began to edge her way gently through the crowded room, trying not to bump into the waiters who were circulating with champagne and platters of canapés.
Alice, meanwhile, was working her way towards Georgie, but she had been sidetracked by a waiter carrying a tray laden with dainty miniature hotdogs.
“You’re only supposed to take one, miss,” the waiter was insisting as Alice grabbed three at once.
“Are you kidding me?” Alice pulled a face. “Have you seen the size of these things? I’ll need to eat like a dozen, just to make one normal hotdog. I’m not following you around all day!”
She turned to Georgie. “This place is the best! Come on, we’ve got a table beside the balcony. We’ve got fab seats. We’re sitting right behind a table that belongs to the Bulgarian crown prince and on the other side is an Arab sheik – they’ve both got a horse in the same race as Riley.”
Daisy and Emily both leapt up with joy when Georgie arrived.
“Where have you been?” Emily called out. “We were getting worried!”
Beside the girls, a man in a very smart dark suit and tie stood up to greet her too.
“Georgie,” John Conway smiled. She had never seen Riley’s dad dressed up before and he didn’t look entirely comfortable. “I don’t feel right in this monkey suit,” he said running a finger around the neck of his shirt to loosen it. “I shouldn’t be up here with the fancy pants. I should be down at the stables with Riley getting that horse of his ready to run. I’ve been trying to convince Mary-Anne to let me leave—”
“John Conway!” The woman next to him shook her head. “Stop being foolish. Riley knows what he’s doing and he’s got Kenny to help him. He doesn’t need you getting underfoot. You’re going to stay here and enjoy yourself if it kills you!”
The woman gave Georgie a broad smile. “It’s lovely to meet you, honey, I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Mary-Anne Conway, Riley’s mother.”
“It’s great to meet you too,” Georgie said. “I’m sorry I was running late…”
“Not at all,” Mrs Conway said. “The race is another fifteen minutes away – you’re just in time. We should head out on to the balcony.”
She handed Georgie a pair of binoculars. “You’re gonna need these – we’re up so high above the course you could get a nosebleed from the altitude!”
Out on the balcony, the crowds were beginning to gather. Georgie, Alice, Daisy and Emily grabbed a spot near the railing that gave them a clear view out over the track. They were directly in front of the finishing post. Georgie peered down through her binoculars. The track was still empty at the moment, but any minute now the jockeys would be bringing their horses out.
“What colour silks is Riley wearing?” Emily asked.
“The Clemency Farm colours are royal blue with white diamonds on the sleeves,” Georgie told her.
The atmosphere on the balcony was getting tense as the race grew closer, but that didn’t stop Alice from hunting down a waiter and commandeering a tray of meringues. “These are just soooo yummy!” she grinned through a mouthful of strawberries and cream. “I love it here! Did I mention how much I love it here?”
Georgie was about to take a second meringue off the tray when the fanfare to announce the next race played over the loudspeaker.
“Welcome back to the racing here at Churchill Downs!” the announcer said. “This is the sixth race, The Fi
recracker Handicap, and we are about to get underway in just five minutes. And here the horses come!”
There was more musical fanfare and then two grey horses, the ‘outriders’, emerged. These horses accompanied the racehorses and were ridden by men in red hacking jackets and velvet hard hats. Following the outriders were the racehorses themselves. Georgie marvelled at the beauty of the horses as they stepped out lightly on to the sandy loam of the track. They were Thoroughbreds, sleek and gleaming, bays and chestnuts mostly. All the horses looked amazing, but there was one horse who stood out from the others. He was enormous – a jet-black horse with a rider in red and gold silks and the number twelve on his blanket. Georgie knew straight away that this must be him – The Rainmaker – the favourite to win the Firecracker today.
“The Rainmaker looks good,” John Conway said darkly. “He’s put on some muscle since I last saw him. Maybe that’s a good thing – or maybe not. Maybe he’ll be too heavy today to go the distance.”
“What position has he drawn?” Mary-Anne Conway wanted to know.
“Near the barrier,” her husband replied. “Riley is on the outside of him. He needs to keep out of his way and keep an eye on him at the same time. The Rainmaker will be the one to watch all right.”
More horses began to pour out on to the track now and the announcer began rattling off names, “Master and Commander, Bullet Proof, Ace of Diamonds, and Regal Rival…”
At the mention of the last name the Bulgarian Prince raised his hands in applause and the woman standing next to him with a giant fascinator on her head, began to shriek and applaud.
“Look!” Alice pointed out to the track. “There’s Riley!”
Georgie looked down at the track below them. She could see his royal blue silks with the white diamonds, and Riley strapping on goggles to prepare for the race and keep the mud from the horses’ hooves out of his eyes. By the look of Marco though, there wouldn’t be many horses in front of him – Georgie had never seen the chestnut gelding in such amazing shape. His muscles rippled in the Kentucky sunshine. His coat had the sheen of a precious metal and his head was held erect as he walked around the track like a cat on hot coals.
