My shoulder, unnoticed while I’d been talking to Keith Whellan, kicked in at full throttle. My shivers were not entirely due to the icy temperature and I needed to get home and soak in a hot bath. I’d engaged first gear when my mobile struck up with ‘The Great Escape’.
‘Hello.’
‘Harry.’ Annabel’s voice was soft and warm. ‘Are you all right? I saw your fall. Jeffrey and I were watching the racing.’
‘Nothing broken, thank goodness. Are you both doing OK?’
‘We are, yes. Jeffrey suggests I come over to the cottage when you get back. Would you like me to?’
Would I? By God, would I.
‘What about Jeffrey? Has he somebody looking after him?’
‘Yes. We’ve got a live-in nurse. She’s a treasure. They get on very well.’
‘In that case, I’d really like to see you. I could use some of your special help.’
‘I’ll be there. What time?’
‘Better make it a good couple of hours; give me chance to drive home. That OK with you?’
‘Absolutely fine. Drive carefully.’
I released the handbrake and drove out of the racecourse.
Checking in my rear-view mirror before joining the main-road traffic, I also noted, despite the pain, there was a wide smile plastered all over my face.
I beat my own record getting back from Wetherby. For the last half-hour of the journey, snow had been falling. To start with, a few soft, wishy-washy flakes that hit the windscreen and melted immediately. But the initial warm-up, if you could call it that, soon came to an end and a multitude of large flakes took over, clogging the wipers and building up until visibility was reduced to a couple of tiny arcs.
I noted the lack of tyre tracks in the lane leading to Harlequin Cottage and knew I didn’t need to do any security checking when I pulled in through the open five-barred gate. The gravel was covered in a good inch or more of snow. And there were no unwelcome footprints advertising an uninvited caller. I crunched across and opened the back door.
First job was to turn up the central heating; the second was to make a mug of scalding tea. Then I shrugged out of my jacket, grabbed the mug and began climbing the stairs.
I’d got about halfway up when I heard a bellow behind and the soft thud of paws coming after me. Leo hurled himself at my back and cramponed his way up to my shoulder. Unfortunately, it was the one that had taken all the battering. I let out a yell and nearly dropped my tea. Bewildered by my lack of reciprocated welcome, he gave a loud hiss of frightened surprise and let go, landing on all four paws and streaking away down the landing.
I let him go – he’d come round when he was hungry – and went into the bathroom. I turned on the hot tap, added a liberal amount of muscle relaxant which foamed up invitingly, promising release of painful tension, and left the bath to fill. Taking a pull of hot tea, I stripped off my clothes. Angling in front of the mirror, I cast a quick glance at the damage.
The shoulder was a mess. The skin was broken in grazed patches and an unbelievably big bruise was spreading and darkening over half of my shoulder blade and upper arm. Adding to the fun factor, there were also four deep claw punctures that were oozing blood. Using me as a climbing frame when I returned home was a normal activity for Leo, but he’d been a little tardy in turning up tonight and I’d already shed my cushioning jacket.
I fished in the bathroom cabinet, took out a packet of seriously strong painkillers and swallowed three. Placing the tea between the taps for ease of reaching, I eased myself gingerly into the hot bubbles. It took a minute or two to become acclimatized to being boiled alive, but then the healing water began easing away the tension, loosening tight, strained muscles and tendons, and became the ‘aaah …’ factor I needed.
I sipped the rest of my tea and slid down into the bath until my battered shoulder was submerged. As painful as it was, I’d still been very lucky to escape so lightly from what could have been a nasty fall. And another great outcome was that because I’d come off Annabel would soon be here to offer her own particular brand of healing. Until I heard her car arrive, I’d simply stay put in the bath, soaking up the heat and letting the water soothe the abrasions.
I eased down a little further and closed my eyes …
I could hear a muted road drill. But, strangely, it seemed to be close to my left ear. I was also aware of being in the bath – and the water was getting really cold. Raising one eyelid, I took in the scene.
A few inches from my head an enormous ginger tomcat was purring for England. He lay upside down in the arms of the woman I loved – my estranged wife. No rear-view mirror in which to check, but I could feel the soppy smile spread across my face.
‘I thought that might wake you.’ Annabel smiled back. ‘I’d forgotten what decibels he gives out when he’s happy.’
‘Make that two of us,’ I said, ‘in the happy stakes.’
‘There’s a pot of coffee waiting in the lounge if you’re interested.’ She rocked the big cat gently from side to side and his purrs rose another gear. ‘And I think your bathwater’s cold.’
‘You’re right.’ I started to heave myself up, realized that along with the water getting cold, the bubbles had all but dispersed.
Diplomatically, Annabel passed over my bath towel. ‘Nothing I haven’t seen before.’ She headed for the door. ‘And, of course, with the water being cold …’ She didn’t need to finish the sentence.
I grabbed for the sponge and threw it across the bathroom at her. She skipped out of range, laughing.
I dried and dressed hastily and went downstairs. In addition to the central heating I’d upped on returning home, Annabel had also switched on my quick fix for heat when the open fire wasn’t lit – the log-effect electric fire. The lounge was cosy-warm. Leo was rolling around on his back like a kitten on the carpet, delighting in warming his belly. There was a pot of coffee, two mugs and a jar of honey on a tray sitting on the side table. Annabel had also switched on the subdued wall lights. The whole effect was warm and soothing.
‘Shall I pour out?’
I nodded, hunkering down beside Leo in front of the fire. I didn’t tell her how good it was to have the joy of her company, even if only for an hour. And it was joy: she lit up the room, my life, just by being herself. And being here.
‘What happened at that jump, then?’
I looked up from stroking Leo’s soft fur and accepted a steaming mug.
‘Technically, the webbing of the breastplate attached to the girths on either side, under the saddle flaps, gave way.’
She frowned. ‘Wasn’t the tack checked when it was put on?’
‘I don’t know about that because I was in the changing room. Obviously, it should have been …’
‘Meaning?’
‘Maybe it wasn’t meant to hold – as in, been got at.’
‘Vandalized on purpose?’
‘Hmm … possibly.’ I nodded and sipped the coffee.
She drew in a sharp breath. ‘What damage did it do to you?’
‘I landed on my left shoulder – that’s buggered right now – and I got a crack on the head.’
‘I take it you were checked out at the time?’
‘Oh, yeah, nothing broken.’
‘No blackout, concussion?’
‘Nope.’
‘Thank goodness.’ She, too, sipped coffee.
‘How’s Jeffrey doing?’
‘Hmm’ – she swallowed some coffee – ‘doing surprisingly well.’
‘Would it have anything to do with giving him healing?’
She smiled and shook her head. ‘I don’t know, Harry. I just do the job; I’m not the boss.’
‘No, suppose not.’
Since we had split up, Annabel had trained – and qualified – to become a spiritual healer, in addition to her existing career as a psychotherapist. Although she wouldn’t be drawn, we both knew the effectiveness of the treatment. I was convinced that without her unselfish treatments – in
person and when absent – I wouldn’t have recovered as I did from my ghastly fall the previous year at Huntingdon racecourse. No way would I discount the efficacy of the treatment. It would be foolish to do so when, having been on the receiving end, my body had responded and healed very much faster than it would otherwise have done.
‘Would you like some healing?’
I didn’t hesitate, unlike the first time when I’d chickened out – or tried to. Thankfully, fate had then taken charge and I’d received the healing without knowing anything about it.
‘Yes, please, when you’ve finished your coffee.’
We finished the first and poured ourselves a second mug and relaxed on the settee. Leo, predictably, lay smugly across both our laps.
‘Bless him.’ Annabel stroked his head. ‘Doesn’t forget, does he?’
‘No’ – I shook my head – ‘he remembers the good times.’ Leo always used to lie across us when we lived together.
‘And they were good, weren’t they?’ She turned a soft gaze on me.
‘Oh, yes, they certainly were.’
I let my arm rest around her shoulders. She didn’t object, but we were both intensely aware of the line, drawn in concrete, which neither of us could cross. We honoured each other and didn’t attempt to go too far. She was loyal to Jeffrey, and no way would I abuse his trust. We had a very strange threeway relationship that most people couldn’t understand. It had been forged through mutual danger, pain, love and now, in Sir Jeffrey’s case, necessity.
‘I take it you haven’t had any more trouble or threats since I handed over that letter?’
‘It’s worked, whatever you did, and no’ – she held up a hand – ‘I don’t want to know anything about it. I trust your ability to handle the whole rotten situation. I’ve had my fill of criminals.’
‘Quite right.’ I squeezed her shoulder reassuringly and dropped the subject. But, inside, I was secretly gleeful at how easy it had proved to eliminate a potentially very dangerous situation.
‘Anyway, shall I see if I can help your shoulder?’
‘Please.’
Tipping Leo off our knees, I went and sat in a straight-backed chair. Annabel went through her preparation routine and placed her hands gently on my shoulders for a few seconds. I closed my eyes to cut out any visual disturbance, and although I didn’t feel her touch me again I knew she was working systematically on my body from a short distance away. I also knew from experience she would begin by working on the seven energy points to balance them, followed by all the joints – without touching any of them.
A feeling of extreme relaxation filled me and my body began to tingle pleasantly. I could actually feel the energy running all the way through me, down to the soles of my feet.
The area around my shoulder began to feel very warm and the tingling sensation intensified. I could, literally, feel myself healing. I marvelled at it and at her unselfish attitude to my bodily condition.
My race riding was the one thing that had driven her away in the first place and here she was giving me devoted healing to restore my health in order that I could return to race riding – until I came off again. And bash myself up again. It was madness, whichever way you looked at it. But it was a madness I willingly submitted to, and, I suppose, was hopelessly addicted to.
She worked on me for about twenty minutes. Until, finally, she placed her hands lightly on my shoulders.
‘There. How do you feel, Harry?’
‘Wonderful, darling. I feel so relaxed I could just go to sleep.’
‘And your pain levels?’
‘Not there. I know I had some painkillers before you came but, quite honestly, right now, I can’t feel a thing. Thank you.’
She smiled. ‘Now, how about I fix us some supper? I fished in the freezer at home and came up with one of my home-made salmon fish pies. I thought you’d enjoy that and, of course’ – she bent over and tickled Leo’s ginger ear – ‘his lordship could have some as well.’
‘Sounds great.’
‘Have a stretch out on the settee; give your body the chance to absorb the healing. Leave me to it in the kitchen.’
I wasn’t about to argue with her. I tucked a couple of squashy cushions under my neck and shoulders and sprawled contentedly.
SEVENTEEN
I made a beast of myself with the salmon pie. Leo, of course, did the same. It was sheer luxury to have a meal cooked. And Annabel was a marvellous cook, could make even a simple meal taste really special.
I insisted she sat down afterwards while I cleared up in the kitchen. I hurried it through and joined her for coffee.
‘Thanks.’ I dropped down next to her on the settee. ‘That was a great meal.’
‘My pleasure.’ She accepted the mug of coffee, sniffing appreciatively. ‘How’s your shoulder doing?’
‘Can’t feel it,’ I said truthfully.
‘Hmm … see how you go tomorrow. If it’s a problem, I can always send some absent healing.’
‘Yes, I know, and I’m grateful.’
She flipped her hand dismissively. ‘I know if I ever need help, for whatever reason, I can call on you. Works both ways, Harry; it’s never a one-way street. It’s called life – and it’s tough.’
‘Yes.’
‘And if you’re on your own, it’s even tougher.’
My thoughts went to Georgia. She was on her own now. I felt somewhat guilty that I’d not yet mentioned her to Annabel. Maybe now was the time. But before I could think how to broach it, she forestalled me.
‘Talking of going it alone, I want you to know, Harry, I have no claims on your life. Yes, officially, we’re still married, but that apart, I’ve got Jeffrey. For better – or worse.’
‘I—’
‘And,’ she continued, holding up her hand, ‘it would be incredibly selfish of me to expect you to keep sitting on the fence. What I’m saying is, why not look for another woman, one who fits you – and your lifestyle?’
‘What we’ve been through – Jeffrey, you, me – has resulted in where we are now. And there is no way back. Just like a horse race, we can only go forward. Even if we can’t see where we’re going.’
She nodded. ‘Exactly.’
‘Jeffrey’s the one who drew the short straw. He’s the one who is relying on us both. As to us two, like you say, officially, we’re still married.’
There were words needing to be said now. Maybe they had needed to be said some time ago. But once uttered, they could not be recalled. I felt the clutch of fear deep in my guts and had to force myself to get them out. Riding over fences in the Grand National was taxing on the nerves, but I was never scared. Now, I was bloody terrified what her answer would be.
‘Are you asking for a divorce, Annabel?’
She shook her head quickly. ‘No. It’s not something I’ve felt is necessary. Strange as it seems, even when I was pregnant, I didn’t consider it. I married you, Harry, because I loved you. People get divorced because they’ve stopped loving each other.’ She looked directly into my eyes. ‘In our case, that’s not true, is it?’
‘No,’ I said quietly. ‘But if you want to marry Jeffrey, then, yes, I will give you a divorce.’
‘I don’t.’ She studied my face. ‘Are you trying to say you want one? Have you met someone, someone special?’
‘I have met a very sweet woman …’
For a brief moment, I saw the pain fill her eyes before she dropped her gaze.
‘But that’s a long way from considering divorce. I have taken her out two or three times.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Georgia. She owns a florist shop in Grantham.’
‘How does she feel about you race riding?’
I hesitated. I knew how important my answer would be. ‘She hasn’t said.’
‘But she knows you’re a jump jockey?’
‘Yes, she knows.’
‘You must tell me, Harry.’ She clutched my hand. ‘If you want a divorce, of course I’l
l agree. It’s your future we’re talking about here, not just mine.’
‘Annabel, my darling.’ I took her face between my hands and kissed her very gently on the lips. ‘There is nothing, no one, that will make me want to divorce you – ever.’
‘But this woman – Georgia – if you’re serious about her, maybe she will expect you to.’
‘If our relationship should get to that stage, and I don’t know if it ever will, I expect we would simply live together, like you and Jeffrey. It’s enough for you two, isn’t it?’
She nodded. ‘Oh, yes.’
‘Then let’s carry on, just as we are. We both know circumstances that we can’t control have come between us. But nothing’s changed – not emotionally. You’re still my best friend … I still love you.’
‘I love you, Harry. I always will; you know that.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But I want you to go on seeing Georgia. You do need some female company. OK?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
I took her in my arms and held her, felt her arms go around me, reciprocating the acknowledgement of how things still stood between us.
‘It needed saying, Harry.’ Her words were a little muffled against my sweater.
‘Yes.’
‘So,’ she sighed and drew back from the circle of my arms, ‘I think I should be getting back.’
We stood up. I went over and parted the curtains, took a look at the state of the weather.
‘Oh … oh dear.’
‘Bad?’
She came to stand beside me. Together we looked out on huge, swirling snowflakes and deep snow covering everything.
‘You’re not going anywhere tonight.’
‘No,’ she agreed, shaking her head, ‘I can see that.’
The last time Annabel had stayed all night at the cottage, we’d been through a hellish time, were both suffering mentally and physically, and she had slept in my bed.
Tonight, we weren’t in a shocked emotional state with injuries that were bleeding – tonight, we both knew without saying anything, Annabel would be sleeping in the guest room.
But not on her own. Undoubtedly, she’d have company – Leo.
Jammy sod! That cat landed on his ginger paws every time.
Dead Heat Page 12
