Bouncebackability takes the Durban July
Bouncebackability showed an electrical turn of foot to land the Grade One Durban July in South Africa from hot favourite Rasputin. The four-year-old, trained on Rijk Swanepoel’s Cape Town satellite yard by Dan van Rooyen showed only mediocre form last year after a promising juvenile season and certainly lived up to his name when taking South Africa’s premier horse racing event…
Ginny gulped and closed the newspaper, preoccupied by the thoughts this article aroused. She thought back to Charlie’s words after Royal Ascot. Was her job in South Africa really in that much jeopardy? Dan van Rooyen, her substitute, was certainly a good trainer but even she could have trained Bouncebackability to win the Durban July. She tried to convince herself that Rijk would see that.
*
The run up to the big race seemed to drag for Ginny. Her earlier confidence knock was given a steadying hand though as she went to saddle Sequella. The big black mare stood strong and resilient and Ginny’s worries eased. She hopped out the way of the horse’s decidedly large teeth as she tightened the girth and Darragh, her faithful handler, took a firmer hold on the bridle.
‘Enough of that, missus,’ he said in a firm but unmenacing tone.
With a final pat, she sent the young Irishman and his charge out into the mild sunshine towards the parade ring.
Ginny glanced at the betting boards as she and Jim made their way over to the owners and trainers stand and acknowledged that Jethro was now clear favourite, with Storm Chaser second in the betting. At the time of her last race, Sequella had been joint favourite with Jethro. It didn’t matter a jot, Ginny told herself, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin. Nobody had told Sequella that she wasn’t favourite.
*
The fourteen horses broke from the stalls, looking almost laidback. They slotted themselves into the most economic space available, settling down for the stamina-sapping two mile journey around the course. As instructed, Alex manoeuvred his mount into second position, right behind Jethro. As the horses reached the furthest and highest part of the course, Ginny scrutinised their performance thus far. They were all well strung out, each wanting an inside rail position to save ground.
Ginny noticed Sequella was getting fractious that she wasn’t allowed to lead the field. She exhaled with relief, feeling an encouraging smile tug at her mouth when she saw Alex ease his mount out as they reached a straight bit of the course and draw up alongside Jethro.
Seeing her appear at his side, the Ascot Gold Cup victor flicked back his ears and put more effort into his running. Clearly, he was a front runner too. The pace increased as the pair argued over the lead. Razor Sharpe, biding his time on Storm Chaser stalked just behind. Winging around the curve into the home straight, Jethro, Sequella and Storm Chaser stretched their necks out, at last given complete release from their riders. Ginny couldn’t believe her eyes. Some horses were thirty lengths behind and hers was battling out the lead with the Ascot Gold Cup winner!
‘Come on, Sequella!’ Ginny yelled, punching the air. ‘Come on, girl!’ Not thinking of what she was saying, she yelled every encouragement she could think of as the three horses came thundering down the centre of the track, so close to one another a picnic blanket could have covered the trio. Ginny became more hysterical and more frantic in her adrenalin-fuelled leaps as the horses swept into the final furlong. Storm Chaser began to weaken. It was sudden, almost like the mare had held up her hands – or hooves – and said ‘Forget it, I can’t do it. What’s the point in trying anymore?’ Jethro was moving like a steam train burning a bottomless pit of coal. Sequella, on his outside, had her head and neck stretched out so far, her ears pinned down and her teeth bared, Ginny’s heart swelled with pride.
This mare had guts!
Treating the last furlong as viciously as Ginny’s continuous swipes and punches at the air, the mare wore down Jethro’s defences, at first getting her nose in front, then her head and her neck. The Ascot Gold Cup winner fell back to her flanks and finally, as they streaked beneath the shadow of the post, was far back enough to get a clod of earth kicked into his chest by a triumphant Sequella.
For a moment, Ginny was reminded of Persian Punch, the gutsiest horse to rule over Goodwood, and with that thought, the water works were triggered. She clung to her father, staining his jacket with her streaming make-up. Dabbing her eyes, she looked around, shell-shocked. A familiar face caught her attention further across the owners and trainers stand. His brown eyes twinkled and a small smile tugged at his lips. Julien gave her an almost indistinguishable congratulatory nod, which even Basil Forrester standing beside him didn’t notice.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Following Sequella’s victory in the Goodwood Cup, Ginny’s outlook on life was improving. Winning her first Group race had left a smile on her face for days after. Her momentary lapse in confidence over Caspian had also passed as his workouts on the Gallops started to show further development. It had been almost two weeks since her split with Mark and she hadn’t heard a word. It had leant reassurance to her fragile nerves that he was going to keep his side of the deal. Neither had she heard anything from her South African boss to tell her she no longer had a job. He hadn’t called her to assure her it was still hers, but she took the attitude that no news was good news.
Riding high in her stirrups astride Libran Charter on the Gallops, she pushed him into a brisk canter, cajoling him to lengthen his stride, until they were galloping hard with the wind whistling in their ears. Mid-flight up the track, balanced over his withers, Ginny glanced behind her to check on the progress of the others. But she didn’t have time to assess them. As she leaned ever so slightly to her left so she could look over her shoulder, her leg suddenly lost its steadfast hold. A loud snap, like the crack of a whip, interrupted the rushing wind. She gasped as her stirrup fell away and she made a desperate grab for Libran Charter’s mane. But she was already falling, spinning off balance, like having a carpet whipped from beneath her feet. She tumbled over the horse’s powerful rolling shoulder and straight into the path of his pummelling hooves.
*
After drifting in and out of consciousness for what seemed like days, Ginny finally came around. Still only vaguely aware of her surroundings, she awoke to a throbbing pain that battered her body, a dull skull-filling ache which swelled inside her head. Closing her eyes to shut out the assault, she tried not to move, hoping it would go away if she just lay still. Opening her eyes again, she gleaned that she was in hospital. She could see the open door beyond the foot of her narrow bed and people passing by. Why was she here? What had happened? She tried not to think too much, as the pain seemed to intensify if she thought too hard. Now she remembered. She had fallen off, that’s right. Had she been on the Gallops? She must have been. She must have been knocked unconscious. A nurse stopped at the door and came in, smiling at Ginny.
‘You’ve woken up, have you?’ she said.
Ginny opened her numb and swollen lips to answer, but only a small croak emitted from her dry throat.
‘It’s all right, don’t try to talk. Here’s some water. I’m going to put another pillow behind you, okay?’
Ginny grimaced as the nurse eased her body until she was almost sitting up. Taking a clumsy sip from the glass of water offered to her, Ginny felt the first respite from the pain as the cool liquid quenched her throat.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Like death,’ Ginny wheezed.
‘You’re very much alive, thankfully. You took quite a tumble, I believe. Been out cold for about seven hours.’
‘Figured I could do with a lie-in.’ Ginny made a poor attempt at humour. ‘Can I have some more water?’
‘Yes, of course you can. Here you go. I’m just going to let the doctor know you’re awake.’ Padding out of the room in her flatties, the nurse disappeared beyond the corner. Gingerly, Ginny moved each limb in turn, flexing her fingers and toes, and raising each arm and leg a couple of
centimetres in turn. No broken bones, thank God, although her body still ached like an inflamed wisdom tooth. Her head felt like she had a hangover from hell, but without the benefit of having a good party the night before to make it worthwhile.
Right on cue, some green scrubs and stethoscope swept into the room. An elderly man came over to her bedside and peered at Ginny.
‘Hello, Ginny. I’m Doctor Proctor.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yes. Seriously,’ he replied with a complete sense of humour failure. ‘How’s that head feeling?’
‘Sore. I feel exhausted.’
‘You need some more rest. First, I’m just going to shine a light into your eyes, okay?’
Ginny opened her eyes wide and tried not to shy away from the white sword of light that pierced her brain as he examined first one then the other for pupil reaction.
‘You’ve suffered a concussion, so you’ll be staying with us for a while yet. I know you’re hurting but the best thing for you right now is sleep. You’ll feel better I promise.’
‘Can I have something for the pain?’
‘I’ll have someone bring you some Paracetamol, not to worry. But more importantly, get some rest. Best healer there is.’
‘Okay,’ Ginny murmured, closing her eyes. She didn’t hear the doctor leave the room as sleep once more overcame her, blotting out the pain.
*
When she awoke again, things seemed quieter. It must be night time, she decided. And the doctor had been right. She did feel better. Her head didn’t feel quite so sore, and although her mouth and one eye still felt tender and swollen, her thoughts were sharper and she felt more able to deal with the pain. She was surprised by how rested she felt when her sleep had been so interrupted by jolted dreams. Firstly, there had been Mark, riding Kenya out of Ravenhill Stables, looking very odd. Then Caspian’s race, except this time he had been beaten – by Silver Sabre.
Ginny grimaced as the image took on a greater clarity. And although it had only been fleeting, she thought she remembered the tall, broad-shouldered outline of someone she knew in the doorway to her hospital room, his face bathed in the shadows with only a shard of light angling off his prominent cheek bones. Despite not saying anything, she felt he understood her helplessness. But he was gone the moment she blinked. And then… Ginny frowned as she tried to remember more, but couldn’t. It was fading away like sand in an hourglass.
She reached out with a shaky arm and pressed the call button beside her bed. A minute later, the same nurse as before came in.
‘Hello, feeling any better?’
‘So-so,’ she replied with a weak smile. ‘Can I have some water, please?’
‘Let me get you sat up first. Here you are. Can you hold it okay?’
Ginny took the glass from the nurse and held it to her tender lips.
‘What time is it?’
‘Just after seven o’clock. There are some very anxious people waiting down in the canteen for you. Do you want me to let them know you’re awake?’
‘Who?’
‘Your mother and father, I think. And a young couple.’
‘Yes, please,’ Ginny said, wondering who the young couple were. Her brother, Ray and his girlfriend, Sarah, probably.
*
She closed her eyes, waiting the few minutes for her family to appear, then groggily opened them when she heard their entrance.
‘Lovie, are you awake?’ her mother’s anxious voice appealed. ‘Can you hear me?’
‘I can hear you, Mum.’
‘Oh, darling. We’ve been so worried.’
‘Sorry.’ Looking around her at the concerned faces gazing down at her she did feel bad. She managed an apologetic smile. Her mother and father, and Alex and Kerry gathered around her bedside. Ginny thought for a moment of the pleasure Kerry might have felt had she heard the nurse refer to her and Alex as a ‘couple’.
‘Does it hurt?’ Kerry said.
‘A little.’
‘Ask for morphine, it’s great,’ Alex recommended.
‘Alex!’
Ginny had more success at smiling as Beth Kennedy, looking shocked, chided the young American.
‘Has the doctor told you anything?’ Jim asked.
‘Just that I’ve got concussion and I need to rest.’
‘You got off fairly lightly then.’
‘What do I look like? It feels like I’ve been hit by a bus.’
‘You look it too, I’m afraid,’ Beth said, her face grimacing in sympathy.
‘You’ve got a real shiner,’ Alex added, looking impressed. ‘Do you remember what happened?’
‘Only vaguely. We were riding along. I think I looked behind at you guys, and then my stirrup leather snapped. I can remember seeing Libran’s chest in front of me – not a pleasant memory. But then I blacked out. The next thing I remember is waking up here.’
‘It was quite a fall,’ Alex said.
Panic rose in her chest as the memory of Caspian’s accident was wrenched into Ginny’s thoughts.
‘Is Libran okay?’ she asked.
‘Oh, he’s fine, don’t worry,’ Kerry reassured her. ‘He stopped when he got to the top, then jogged back down like he was taking himself out for his morning workout. If he hadn’t been caught I wouldn’t have been surprised if he took himself back to the yard and hosed himself down and got on the horse walker.’
‘Who needs work riders?’ Alex added.
‘But that’s not all,’ Kerry continued, her cheeks tingeing pink with excitement. ‘You missed the best bit. We all pulled up to see how you were. Obviously, you were out cold. But Julien Larocque was out on his hack, watching his horses work.’
‘Oh, God, did I upset him again?’ Ginny groaned.
‘I should say so, but not how you think. He came charging over – poor hack probably hasn’t gone that fast in years, jumped off to see how you were, then pulled out his phone and called an ambulance. It was so heroic,’ Kerry swooned.
‘Seemed a perfectly normal thing to do,’ Alex said.
‘Oh, come on, Alex. You saw. It was the way he did it. The skid marks his horse made must have been ten feet long. He practically threw you out the way so that he could get to Ginny. He really did look upset.’
‘I thought you two were sworn enemies?’ Alex said.
Ginny frowned. They had been sworn enemies, until only recently. Whether they could be considered friends was different. Alex was right; it was a perfectly normal thing to do. When someone took a bad fall, it wasn’t unusual for others to rush to their aid. When some poor rider is lying prostrate in the middle of the track, you didn’t just carry on working. But with everything that had happened in the last couple of weeks, maybe he was a little concerned for her. For a moment her thoughts switched to her dream. The figure in the doorway, she now knew had been Julien. Had it even been a dream?
‘We were, but –’ Ginny started to explain, but stopped. Things were complicated enough without giving everyone the impression she and Julien Larocque had suddenly become friends. There was nothing wrong with them being friends of course, but people would look for an explanation for this sudden change of heart. And Ginny couldn’t let them know the reason. Neither did she want to claim to be his friend, in case he didn’t feel the same way. Just because he had tipped her off about Mark Rushin didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to swap friendship rings with her. She would look foolish, and probably end up with hurt feelings if she was wrong. ‘You’re right, Alex. It would have been a normal thing to do. We might not get on great together, but not even Julien Larocque could be so heartless as to stand around and refuse to help.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ginny was allowed home after a couple of days having been cautioned not to ride work for a few more. On her first evening home, whilst helping Sally G in the kitchen to prepare her welcome home shepherd’s pie dinner, they were interrupted by a knock on the door. Jack, the Siamese, who hadn’t left her side since her return, dug his claws in
to her shoulders where he was happily draped.
Wiping her hands on a cloth, Ginny hurried to answer the door. Her ready greeting smile faded as she swung the door open and found Julien Larocque standing on the step. He did a double-take as well when he saw Jack’s head next to hers.
‘Julien?’ Ginny said, surprising herself by the little leap her heart took.
‘Bonsoir. Er, is this a bad time?’ he said as she made no move to let him in.
‘Of course not, no. Come in, come in. Um, come through to the, uh –’ Kitchen so he could watch her peel potatoes? Not likely. ‘Uh, the patio.Lovely warm evening.’
‘Does the NHS now issue feline-design neck-braces for cat lovers?’ he asked, stepping inside.
Ginny grinned.
‘Jack: my bodyguard and protector until something dangerous happens. He’s just happy I’m home.’
‘I’m sure.’
Ginny gave Jack a push and reluctantly, he jumped off. Julien leant down to stroke his silken fur before following Ginny.
She led her unexpected guest through the house, detouring via the kitchen. Sally G, standing against a worktop vigorously chopping onions, was dressed in her customary floor-length gypsy skirt with Jesus sandals, a billowing silk shirt and head scarf. It was an image Ginny was now accustomed to, but which she knew from personal experience, was a bit of a shock when you first met her. Julien didn’t turn a hair though.
‘Sally G? This is Julien Larocque, my – er –’ Friend? Rival? Adversary? ‘– neighbour at the yard. Julien, this is Sally G, my landlady.’
‘A pleasure,’ Julien said, inclining his head.
‘I’d shake your hand, darling, but they reek of onions. Nice to meet you though.’
‘Is it okay if we go sit outside?’ Ginny asked, feeling a little guilty. She had, after all, being in middle of helping to cook dinner. Shepherd’s pie was about as complicated a meal as she was capable of.
‘Of course, darling. You leave me to it. Best thing, I think. There’s a bottle in the fridge. Take it out onto the deck and relax.’
At Long Odds (A Racing Romance) Page 19
