At Long Odds (A Racing Romance)

by Hannah Hooton

  ‘As I’m sure you can appreciate, I can’t say who it is that came forward. He probably wanted to do the right thing. But he did mention you, and his concern for you, although since you once trained Rushin’s horse we’d have questioned you anyway. I’m sure he’ll tell you it was him if he wants to.’

  Well, Ginny thought with a small sigh of resignation. Since it was someone she obviously knew and it was a he, it could mean only one person. Julien Larocque.

  ‘Thanks, I understand.’

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Ginny grimaced as a bunched field of horses galloped hard past Windsor’s finish post, their necks outstretched and muscles straining. The muffled drum of their hooves on the sodden ground was drowned out by the cheering of the crowd in the grandstand. She waited the few seconds more before her own horse passed the finish line then turned away. The gelding had been beaten at least twenty lengths and she was glad her father hadn’t come along to watch Libran Charter run like he usually did.

  ‘I’m just feeling a bit under the weather today,’ he had told her after morning stables earlier. Ginny had looked at him anxiously but he had laid a calming hand over hers.

  ‘Nothing to worry about.Just tired.’ He had glanced out of the window at the drizzling rain. ‘And I don’t fancy going out in that either.’ Ginny smiled at the wink he gave her.

  ‘Wish us luck then.’ God knew they would need it with Libran Charter.

  Obviously God had better things to do than watch the 2.40 at Windsor and Ginny trudged down the steps towards the unsaddling area to greet her horse and jockey, her head down and shoulders hunched against the weather. With her eyes on the ground she didn’t see him until her shoulder ricocheted off his.

  ‘Oh! I’m sorry…’ she stammered, looking up in surprise. The rest of her apology faded on her lips as she faced Julien. His eyelashes had moulded together and the rain trickling down his cheeks showed the only animation in his expression.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said, his extra polite tone making their meeting even more impersonal.

  Ginny nodded and carried on her way. She felt her mobile phone vibrate in her pocket and she took it out, ready to divert it to her voicemail whilst she dealt with her horse. It was a number she didn’t recognise but the code was one she was very familiar with: 00 27. South Africa. Deciding Darragh could deal with Libran Charter and Alex without her help, she hurried to a place of shelter and took the call.

  ‘Ginny? It’s Rijk. How’s it going?’

  Ginny hesitated. So many things were happening; it was difficult to say whether it was going well or not. The balance was offsetting towards bad, she decided. Should she tell her boss this?

  ‘Average.Raining like hell at the moment.’

  Rijk chuckled.

  ‘You’re not missing much then. It’s pissing down here as well.’

  Ginny gave a small laugh, devoid of humour as explanations for this unexpected call flashed through her mind.

  ‘Did you hear about Bouncebackability?’ Rijk said.

  ‘In the Durban July? Yes. Well done. He was going the right way when I had to leave,’ she couldn’t help adding.

  ‘Thanks. He did lekker. So did Dan.’

  There was an awkward pause. Rijk was waiting for her to comment. Ginny didn’t know what to say. If she said anything against Dan van Rooyen, she would sound bitchy, yet she didn’t want to go praising him and jeopardising her job security even more.

  ‘Dan’s doing really good, Ginny,’ Rijk said, breaking the silence. ‘You’re good too. I hear you’ve got the favourite in the Doncaster Cup next week. That right?’

  ‘Yes. Sequella.’

  ‘Lekker stuff. Listen, I’ll be straight with you. Dan’s a good assistant. I’d be quite happy to keep him on if you don’t come back. But I need to know for sure if you’re going to come back. Dan wants some sort of security.’

  Ginny hesitated. She thought of her father. He had been feeling tired lately. No matter how many times he reassured her he was fit and well, she wasn’t convinced him going back to work in the New Year was the best idea. The stable was still in such trouble it seemed absurd that she should leave now. She would also be leaving Caspian and Sequella. On the other hand…

  Ginny bit her lip. She could see Julien through the deluge talking to someone beneath an overhang. She would be leaving Julien and that was definitely the right thing to do. As well as that, she hadn’t been unhappy in Cape Town. She had enjoyed her job, even if she hadn’t had loads of big winners, she’d still been happy enough.

  ‘The plan is still to go back to Cape Town,’ Ginny forced the words out of her mouth.

  ‘I need to know for sure though,’ Rijk insisted. ‘I don’t want to get left with no trainer at all.’

  How could she decide right there and then? If she made a firm decision right now then she would be lying. There would be no certainty in her words. She hesitated a little too long for Rijk.

  ‘Two weeks, Ginny. I’ll give you two weeks to let me know. If I don’t hear from you then I’ll take it as a no and I’ll make Dan permanent.’

  Ginny gulped.

  ‘That sounds fair.’

  ‘It’s more than bloody fair,’ Rijk muttered. ‘And you know there’s a limit to how fair I can be, hey.’

  Ginny understood. She knew he wasn’t implying that he cheated. Only that business was business and he didn’t take prisoners. It had been the same when Charlie had been stepped down in favour of some Northern Province jockey in the J&B Met last year. Rijk wasn’t going to let him ride his horse and lose just because Charlie was a nice guy, no matter how much Ginny had tried to persuade him otherwise. As it was revealed, Charlie had turned out not to be quite as nice a guy as she’d thought.

  ‘I understand. I’ll let you know either way. Thanks Rijk.’

  *

  Ginny’s uncertainty over her future weighed on her mind like a wet blanket and a couple of days later she was no nearer to making a decision. Sitting in the office she again ran her options through her mind. Maybe next week would make things clearer. Sequella was running in the Doncaster Cup. If she won, Ravenhill’s reputation would be given a boost but would it be enough to ensure a smooth season for next year?

  The telephone rang, interrupting her thoughts. Her fingers tightened around the receiver as she recognised the voice.

  ‘Hey Ginny, it’s Charlie.’

  She paused, collecting herself before speaking.

  ‘Hi Charlie. Didn’t realise you were still in town.’

  ‘I’m leaving tomorrow. I just thought – I mean, I just hoped we could meet up for a drink tonight before I go.’

  Ginny didn’t know if her already strained emotions could deal with a meeting with her ex-boyfriend.

  ‘I don’t think so, Charlie.’

  ‘I know, I know. But I just wanted to talk to you. I need to talk to you.’

  ‘There’s nothing for us to talk about.’

  ‘Come on, Ginny. There was a lot that went unsaid like – look, please could we just meet up? Just one drink, that’s all.’

  Ginny sighed. What harm could one drink do?

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Great. The Tetrarch at seven?’

  ‘Okay, I’ll see you later.’

  ‘Thanks, Ginny.’

  *

  Showered and changed, Ginny walked to the Tetrarch. She scanned the pub, the Friday night revellers still sparse in the early evening. She caught sight of Charlie sitting at a table near the rear of the pub and headed towards him. She noticed he had already bought a drink for her. His face crinkled into a smile when he saw her and he gestured to the chair opposite him.

  ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Okay,’ Ginny replied. ‘You?’

  ‘Got an early start tomorrow so keeping it quiet tonight.’

  ‘Looking forward to going back?’ she said, settling into the armchair.

  ‘Ja.Can only take so much of the English weather.’

  ‘It’s su
mmer,’ Ginny snorted.

  ‘Still,’ he replied, motioning to the umbrella she had brought in with her.

  ‘Fair enough. So what was so important?’

  Charlie fiddled with his pint of lager.

  ‘I wanted to say I was sorry.’

  Ginny waved him away.

  ‘Charlie, I’ve got over it. I’ve got over us. It’s a bit late to apologise.’

  ‘No, you don’t understand. I didn’t understand. When I got jocked off in the J&B Met, I blamed you. I didn’t see it as being anyone else’s fault except yours.’

  ‘And I told you at the time, I didn’t have a choice.’

  Morose, Charlie shook his head.

  ‘You bruised my ego, big time. So I went out and tried to boost it again.’

  ‘Charlie –’ Ginny began. She didn’t want to relive the J&B Met.

  ‘No,’ he interrupted her, holding up his hand. ‘It was the wrong thing to do, cheating on you like that. I did it to make me feel better and to make you feel bad. And that wasn’t fair.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t,’ Ginny said in a small voice.

  ‘So, I’m sorry. It’s only since you’ve been back over here and I’ve seen how Rijk Swanepoel works without you. I know now that he doesn’t actually have friends. He has associates. People who will help him.’

  Ginny was reminded of her conversation with the South African trainer and the chance he was giving her.

  ‘He’s not as bad as all that. He does have some friends.’

  ‘Well, I was an associate.’ Charlie took a swallow of beer, then wiped the froth from his upper lip. ‘But then that’s not the only thing I need to apologise to you about.’

  ‘Did you cheat on me on other occasions?’

  ‘No! No, of course not. I mean since the J&B Met. Mark Rushin.’

  ‘Aah, Mark Rushin,’ Ginny nodded, tapping her fingers on the table. ‘Did you know what he was doing? Were you in on it?’

  Charlie shook his head. He traced a finger down the side of his glass, soaking up the condensation in a long line. Ginny saw the tremor in his touch.

  ‘I wasn’t in on it. You have to believe me.’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘Because I’m not a bad guy, Ginny. Would you have come all the way over to South Africa if I was?’

  ‘No, but I don’t seem to be a very good judge of character.’

  ‘I wasn’t in on it. But…’ he paused and took a deep breath. ‘I knew what he was capable of. You cropped up in conversation once when he was down in the Cape and I mentioned you were back here training for your dad. He said he’d look you up. I tried to convince myself that I was being good by sending you business, but I knew deep down what he might try to do.’

  Ginny sat in silence, digesting his words.

  ‘Maybe I would’ve blamed you a while ago, Charlie.’ She smiled and shook her head, feeling bewildered. ‘But I don’t. I don’t hold you responsible for what Mark did. It wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘But don’t you see? It was my fault.’ Charlie leaned forward in his chair, cupping his pint with both hands. ‘Which is why I had to do something about it. When I heard about the dodgy accidents going on at your yard after Rushin left, I knew he had something to do with it. So I had to stop it. I told the cops.’

  Ginny gasped and fell back in her chair, slopping her drink over her lap. Oh God! What had she done? She had accused Julien of ruining everything – but in actual fact, she was the one who’d ruined it all. How could she have been so narrow-minded? She hadn’t even contemplated someone else knowing about Mark’s race fixing. Her heart sank as she recalled the way she had treated Julien at the party.

  Who had betrayed who exactly, she now wondered? All he’d ever done was try to help and protect her, and every time she had managed to misinterpret him and throw it back in his face. This time she knew she had gone too far. That parting look, the finality that was on his face when she’d slapped him, told her that was the end of everything. At the time, with emotions running high, it hadn’t mattered so much, but now – now that she knew he wasn’t to blame, it did matter, and it was too late.

  ‘Ginny? Are you okay?’

  Charlie’s presence drifted back to her.

  ‘Um, I don’t know. I – no, I don’t think I am, to be honest.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ginny. I feel like shit for having sent him your way. He won’t bother you again. I’ll make sure of that.’

  The shock of knowing it wasn’t Julien who had told the police overruled any anger she might have felt for Charlie over the same crime.

  ‘No, it’s okay, Charlie. I just didn’t realise it was you who had reported Mark. I thought – I thought it was someone else.’

  ‘Do you forgive me?’

  ‘What?’ She shook her head, trying to clear the daze. ‘Charlie, I don’t hold you responsible for what Mark did. You don’t have to ask for forgiveness.’

  ‘No, but for everything. Not just about that.’

  Ginny looked at him, seeing the doubt and insecurity swimming in his eyes. He played the big, tough guy but really he was just as vulnerable as the next person, she realised.

  ‘We all make mistakes,’ she said, thinking of how she’d treated Julien. ‘You hurt me, that I won’t deny. But I hurt you too so I should be apologising to you as well.’

  ‘Shall we call it quits?’ Charlie’s mouth tugged into a white grin, the crows’ feet at his eyes deepening and she recognised the man she had followed halfway across the world to be with. She smiled.

  ‘Quits.’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Ginny wasn’t sure how to approach Julien – if at all. She didn’t think popping round to his house like she’d done last time would really cut it on this occasion. She knew she needed to apologise but was so ashamed of her behaviour that she dared not look at him whenever their paths crossed.

  In turn, Julien ignored her.

  Ginny felt further deflated a few days later when, after making the long trek over to Bath, Pacifist, and two other Ravenhill Stables’ representatives could only manage a measly third between them. She saw off Darragh, Kerry and Alex in the lorry and went back to have a drink with Pacifist’s owners who were over from Wales. By the time she got to her car in the sparse-looking car park, it was already gone six o’clock.

  With an exhausted sigh, she dropped into her seat and plonked her bag down in the passenger footwell. She turned the key in the ignition and the car gave a half-hearted choke and a wheeze. Ginny’s blood flowed a couple of degrees cooler with dread. She tried again, pumping the accelerator, but still the only response was that of a dying engine. She rested her head for a moment on the steering wheel before popping the bonnet and getting out again. She knew that looking at the engine would be pretty useless, and it was only if something obvious was wrong like loose wires sprouting out from under the maze of pipes and tanks, that she might glean what the problem was. Nevertheless, she opened the hood and peered in. Nothing inside gave her any clue; it all looked just as it should, except very dirty and very dead. Ginny gave up.

  ‘Bloody, bloody car!’ she fumed, kicking the front wheel. ‘Now what am I supposed to do?’ She ran the options through her head. Why, oh, why hadn’t she got insurance with breakdown cover?

  Because it was cheaper without, she admitted to herself. If she could get a lift to a train station, then she could probably get back to Cambridge, but the trains to Newmarket would more than likely have already stopped by the time she got there. She might’ve called Ray had he not been in Portsmouth visiting friends. She would have to call her parents instead to come pick her up but she didn’t want her father to drive all the way to Cambridge and she knew Beth hated driving on the motorway, especially in the dark. She was just considering flagging down a departing horse lorry and asking for a lift home, when a car pulled up next to her. With a sinking heart, she recognised Julien’s black Lotus.

  Suddenly terrified of what he might say to her, she stuck her head under
the bonnet again, pretending to be engrossed in the engine works.

  ‘Get in,’ Julien said, leaning his head out the window and glaring at her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Get in. You’ve broken down presumably?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ginny sighed.

  ‘Well, come on. You’re not going to get back to Newmarket in that tonight.’

  He sneered at the rustlined Fiesta and she took immediate exception despite having looked at it the same way just moments ago. She wavered. She could sleep in the car. It wouldn’t be very comfortable but she could put up with one uncomfortable night. She was already so tired she’d probably sleep like a log anyway.

  ‘They won’t let you sleep in it here,’ Julien said, reading her thoughts. ‘Now, do I have to drag you?’

  ‘No, no, you don’t have to do that,’ Ginny replied. Slamming the bonnet shut, she flounced round to the driver’s side to retrieve her handbag then paused to lock the car. Not that it would go very far if someone did try stealing it, she conceded.

  Stepping into Julien’s car, the pleasant smell of leather and faint aftershave mingled together.

  ‘Seat belt,’ Julien instructed.

  ‘If you’d give me a chance…’ muttered Ginny.

  He thrust the car into gear and put his foot down.

  Ginny buckled up, her aim for the clasp clumsy in her haste. Once they were out of the car park, she risked a look at his profile. His eyebrows were drawn together and she could see the shadow of a muscle jumping in his jaw. He didn’t look in the best of spirits.

  ‘Why are you helping me?’ she ventured at last.

  ‘Honestly, I don’t know,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘God knows you don’t deserve it.’

  ‘I didn’t ask for a lift,’ Ginny said, feeling offended. ‘So just let me out here, and I’ll make my own way home.’

  Julien’s hand shot out and he grabbed her wrist as she went to unbuckle her seat belt.

  ‘Don’t be so bloody stupid,’ he snarled.