Keeping the Peace

by Hannah Hooton

  ‘Who?’ Pippa cried. ‘Isn’t Skylark the favourite? I thought he was the horse we had to beat?’

  ‘At sixty-six-to-one, there are quite a few horses we have to beat,’ Jack murmured. ‘This’ll test them though – here comes Becher’s again.’

  Six minutes in and Pippa felt drained. She could only imagine what Finn and Peace Offering were feeling. How could those weary legs withstand the six foot descent being asked of them? She dared not blink. Peace Offering gathered himself for the leap, looking anything but tired.

  ‘Too big! Too big!’ hissed Jack.

  Finn threw his weight back as if his life depended on it. He lay almost perpendicular to Peace Offering’s back, trying to correct his horse’s over-exertion. The jarring ground came up to meet them. Overbalanced, Peace Offering stumbled forward with his nose scraping along the churned turf, his hooves desperate to find a footing.

  ‘Please God, I promise never to sneak any more cigarettes and I’ll admit to Tash all the ones I’ve had,’ Pippa whispered in desperation.

  God approved.

  Peace Offering regained his stride and beneath Finn’s urgings set off to recapture their lost ground. The pair brushed through the next jump and with expert judgement, tackled the Canal Turn. Finding a second wind, Peace Offering closed the gap between him and the front five. Rossroe Boy’s bid in fifth place petered out as he was passed in midair over Valentine’s Brook, six from home.

  Pippa clutched Jack’s arm to her like a life-ring.

  ‘Faustian relinquishes his long time lead five out!’ the commentator cried, his voice rising an octave as the race neared its conclusion. ‘Skylark takes it up! Saint Blaise and Tarock are in a scrap for third. Peace Offering has made good ground and races three lengths behind. Here comes Okay Oklahoma!’

  ‘Oh-god-oh-god-oh-god-oh-god,’ Pippa squealed as the horses raced down the side of the course towards the grandstands.

  On the big screen, the camera was focused on the favourite, ranging upsides of Peace Offering. Finn glanced across at his rival and lowered his posture. Peace Offering’s limitless stamina reserves kicked in and he pulled clear again. Okay Oklahoma’s jockey pushed his mount along, his whip fanning alongside. But the favourite couldn’t rise to the Aspen Valley duo’s challenge.

  Three from the finish, the ditch caught out Tarock. His jockey was pitched over his shoulder into the turf. Behind them, Peace Offering fair hurdled the obstacle. Within a couple of strides, he drew up alongside Saint Blaise.

  ‘Go on, Peace Offering!’ Pippa yelled, her nervous excitement bursting out in an adrenalin-filled roar. She watched Finn scrub his hands up and down his horse’s neck. ‘Go on, Finn!’

  In front, Skylark scrambled over the second last.

  ‘He’s on empty, look!’ Jack said. ‘That’s just about the smallest fence in the whole race. COME ON, PEACE OFFERING!’ he bellowed.

  With Tarock, the loose horse keeping him company, Finn steered his mount towards the second last. Faustian jumped slowly, surrendering second place as Peace Offering slogged over the jump.

  ‘Oh, my God. I don’t believe this.’ Jack raked a hand through his hair. ‘He’s bloody going to do it. Look, Pippa!’

  ‘I know! I know! I’m looking!’ she cried, jumping up and down.

  Skylark wobbled and ran out of energy like a power cut. Peace Offering’s long stride ate up the margin between them and he stole past the huge chestnut.

  Pippa screamed in hysterical excitement.

  Only one fence left to jump and her horse was pulling clear. Only Tarock, his reins and stirrups flapping wildly, kept pace on their outside.

  She held her breath as the Grand National offered its last challenge to them. In the centre of the track, Finn crouched low in his saddle and let Peace Offering gather himself for a final leap.

  With her gaze trained on the pair, she didn’t notice at first Tarock changing direction. Then she gasped. The loose horse, looking for a way to avoid the jump altered his route and galloped diagonally across Peace Offering’s path. Finn pulled his horse to the inside to avoid a collision. The horses’ shoulders slammed against each other as Peace Offering was forced to take off.

  The air in Pippa’s lungs evaporated as she watched a virtual nightmare become a surreal reality.

  The impact was too great.

  Despite Finn’s desperate attempts to counter-balance his mount, Peace Offering’s momentum carried his hindquarters over his shoulder.

  ‘Oh!’ Pippa gasped. Her eyes pricked with tears as her horse slammed into the ground and flipped over. Finn, curled into a protective ball, rolled away.

  ‘Fuck,’ Jack muttered.

  With something bordering on relief, Pippa saw Peace Offering quickly stagger to his feet and look around. His ears were pricked to the sound of approaching hoofbeats from the other side of the fence.

  ‘No, no, no! Move, Peace Offering!’ Pippa cried, realising Skylark was still in the running to win.

  After giving himself a full-body shake, Peace Offering ambled away, looking no more bothered than if he was in his paddock on a Sunday afternoon. The tank-like frame of Skylark appeared on his horizon, rising over the last fence. The two rivals looked just as surprised to see each other. Peace Offering whipped his tail in like a naughty dog and hopped out of his path. Skylark twisted as he descended and landed heavily. His jockey, already unbalanced by the awkward jump, bounced out of the saddle and out of the race. All that was left was for Faustian to navigate the last and canter wearily beneath the post to claim his Grand National victory.

  Pippa blinked, shell-shocked. It had been too good to be true, which was why when it had started to happen, it had felt so marvellous. She looked up at Jack. She saw the disappointment on his face. What marvel had been promised to them approaching the last had been mercilessly snatched away. It made it all the worse to bear.

  ‘You win some, you lose some, I guess,’ she said.

  ‘Yes. I guess,’ Jack replied. He gave her a grim smile and patted her on the shoulder. ‘Come on. Let’s go see how the fallen heroes are.’

  Chapter Forty-One

  ‘So what sort of summer bonus were you thinking of giving me?’ Pippa asked, sauntering over to Jack’s desk and sitting on the edge.

  Jack leaned back in his chair and folded his arms in contemplation.

  ‘What sort of bonus would satisfy you?’ he countered.

  Pippa dipped her face and looked at him under flirtatious eyelashes.

  ‘Oh, I could think of various ways you could satisfy me, Jack.’

  ‘Is that so, Miss Taylor?’ A sly smile played on his lips. Getting to his feet, he stood before her. He fingered the top button of his shirt. ‘Would this do?’ he said in a husky voice, popping the button open.

  Pippa reached forward and, hooking her fingers through his belt straps, pulled him towards her. She pulled his shirt out of his jeans and began unbuttoning from the bottom. Her fingers met his halfway before sliding beneath to feel the contours of his chest.

  ‘We’re nearly home,’ Jack said.

  ‘Hmm?’ Pippa questioned blissfully massaging his torso.

  ‘Time to wake up. We’re nearly home.’

  Jack standing with his chest exposed shrunk into a vacuum and was replaced by a dark rain-splattered windscreen. Pippa blinked herself awake. She glanced across at Jack in the driver’s seat. A fiery heat flooded her face and neck.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sorry to wake you. We’ve just driven past Helensvale.’

  ‘Okay,’ she squeaked. She turned her face away and looked out the passenger window, trying to hide her blushes.

  ‘Did you have a good nap?’

  The image of a half-dressed Jack sprang to mind and her ears began to burn again.

  ‘Yes, thanks,’ she managed. ‘Was I asleep long?’

  ‘You’ve been out since we left Liverpool.’

  ‘Wow. Guess I was more tired than I imagined.’

  ‘Probably done you go
od. Feeling rested?’ He looked across at her with a smile.

  A horrifying thought occurred to her.

  ‘I wasn’t talking in my sleep, was I?’

  ‘No, you looked very peaceful.’

  Pippa exhaled with relief, but still couldn’t rid herself of the feeling of Jack’s chest beneath her fingers. Having a saucy dream about someone was embarrassing enough, but having it in their presence was even worse.

  She watched in silence as the Land Rover’s blurred headlights lit up the tree-lined avenue, leading to Hazyvale House.

  ‘Horrible weather,’ she said as they made their slow progress through the murk.

  Jack grunted in agreement.

  ‘It’s that storm we had earlier on,’ he said, raising his voice above the hammering rain on the roof. ‘I was hoping we were going to miss it.’

  He swung the wheel and the Land Rover bumped down Hazyvale’s driveway. The house, shrouded in darkness, welcomed Pippa home as the car triggered the security light outside the front door.

  ‘I’ll get your case out for you,’ Jack offered, switching off the engine.

  Thanking him, Pippa stretched and opened the door. She gaze a squeal as the icy rain splattered her. Holding her coat over her head, she scampered through the puddles to the relative shelter of the front door with Jack hard on her heels.

  ‘Ooh, keys, keys, where are you?’ she muttered, scrabbling through her bag.

  ‘Bloody hell, Pippa. I’m getting soaked here. Couldn’t you have found them when we were in the car?’

  Pippa giggled. Brandishing her house keys, she forced open the door and led the way in. She flicked on the hall light. She grinned at Jack, noticing his hair stuck to his head and raindrops rolling off his nose.

  Jack smiled.

  ‘You look like a drowned rat,’ he said.

  ‘So do you,’ she laughed.

  Jack put her overnight bag on the floor and rubbed his hands together.

  ‘Well, here we are.’ Through the open door, he looked unenthusiastically at the Land Rover, bathed in liquid silver beneath the glare of the security light.

  Perhaps it was his bedraggled appearance or the heaviness of his eyelids, but Pippa paused from sending him out into the night again. She remembered the treacherous conditions on the unlit roads from Hazyvale to Aspen Valley when Mother Nature decided to flex her muscles.

  ‘Would you like to – um – wait until the storm passes?’ she asked in a shy voice.

  A flicker of relief in Jack’s eyes was quickly camouflaged as he shook his head.

  ‘No, I’d better get back.’

  His hesitation emboldened Pippa.

  ‘You’re tired and I bet you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast,’ she said. ‘I’ve got some spag bol I can heat up – it’s not much, but you need to eat. And the storm will hopefully have passed by the time we’re finished.’

  Jack wavered.

  ‘I’ll be home soon enough.’

  Pippa wasn’t sure whether it was her concern over his well-being on the dangerous country roads or her desire to remain in Jack’s presence, but she latched onto his weakening argument.

  ‘In weather like this, it’ll take you ages to get home. Come on, have a break. Here, give me your jacket. It’s sopping.’

  ‘Okay, thanks,’ he replied with a defeated sigh. He let Pippa slip his jacket off his shoulders.

  A smile warmed her faced as she draped it over a radiator. She led him through to the lounge then the kitchen, switching on the lights as she went. Jack appraised his surroundings as she delved into the fridge for a bottle of wine and a Tupperware container of spaghetti bolognaise.

  ‘You’ve certainly put your touch on this place,’ he said.

  Pippa paused.

  ‘Do you like it?’

  ‘Very nice. It must be nearly done now.’

  Pippa popped the food into the microwave and retrieved a couple of glasses from a cupboard. She nodded, a hint of sadness creeping over her.

  ‘Yes. It’s pretty much set to go on the market now.’

  Jack took the bottle of wine from her and popped the cork.

  ‘The lads did a fantastic job of clearing up the garden,’ she went on. ‘I was terrified each time Billy picked up the axe or the shears. He was so keen to fix everything up.’

  Jack chuckled and poured out the wine. Pippa leant against the kitchen counter and sighed. Maybe she was just tired, but her great country adventure now seemed to be ending. The Grand National had been run. The house was ready to be sold. The racing season was nearly over...

  ‘I’ll be sad to leave this place,’ she said, staring down at her drink. ‘It’s very much a home, you know? And I know that when it comes to selling Hazyvale, it’ll more than likely be to city weekenders.’ She looked up at Jack. ‘It won’t be a real home to them.’

  Jack nodded, his expression sombre. A frown settled on his brow.

  ‘Do you have to sell it to weekenders?’

  ‘Who else will buy it?’

  ‘Someone local? You might have to wait a while for the right buyer, but you don’t have to sell it straight away.’ His frown deepened. ‘Do you?’

  His troubled eyes wrenched at Pippa’s heart as she tried to sort through the layers of hidden possibilities in his question. The microwave beeped, making her jump. She hastily turned her attention to stirring the tomato paste into the pasta before popping it back into the microwave. When she looked back at Jack, his expression was as readable as a blank page.

  ‘You said Billy was pretty keen to fix everything up,’ he said. ‘Did he like the place?’

  ‘I think so.’

  Jack looked thoughtful.

  ‘It might be a longshot, but if he and Emmie are starting a family, they’re going to need their own place. If you want Hazyvale to be someone’s home, they’d be just right. If they could afford it, that is.’

  Pippa momentarily brightened then sagged at the mention of money.

  ‘Yeah, it all comes down to money in the end. As much as I’d like Billy and Emmie to live here, I can’t afford to sell this place below market value really.’ She shrugged and went to get some cheese out of the fridge.

  Jack yawned and rubbed his eyes, making her smile in sympathy.

  ‘Why don’t you go relax in the lounge? I’ll bring the food through when it’s ready.’

  Jack nodded gratefully.

  ‘I might fall asleep on your couch though.’

  When Pippa joined him five minutes later, balancing two bowls of pasta and a bottle of wine in her hands, she was surprised to see Jack very much awake. He was standing in front of a picture on the wall. He turned at the sound of her entrance and hurried to clear a space on the coffee table in front of the couch.

  Once they were seated and tucking into their dinner, Jack interrupted the silence.

  ‘It’s good.’

  ‘Thanks. It’s only reheated pasta though,’ Pippa replied, concentrating on taming tails of spaghetti around her fork.

  ‘No. I meant the picture,’ he said, motioning towards the painting he’d been studying when Pippa had walked in.

  Pippa gulped. Morning Stables gazed down at them from within its wooden frame. She hadn’t reckoned on Jack ever seeing this very private piece of art. She felt his eyes on her as she sifted through her food.

  ‘Thanks,’ she mumbled.

  ‘You captured the scene very well,’ he went on. ‘It’s Aspen Valley all over. But you decided to keep it instead of hanging it in the office.’

  Pippa glanced up at his enquiring tone and decided to play it cool... if she could. She gave a nonchalant shrug.

  ‘I liked it,’ she said. ‘I thought it would look good here in the lounge.’

  She waited for him to mention the image of himself in the middle of the picture.

  ‘It’s – it’s a very personal painting,’ he said contemplatively. Whatever he saw in Pippa’s expression must have affirmed he was on the right track because he nodded. ‘P
eace Offering, there in the background,’ he said, pointing vaguely. ‘There’s more to this picture than an average racing yard.’

  Pippa succumbed beneath his understanding.

  ‘I painted it when I was doubting myself – doubting Peace Offering,’ she admitted. ‘I was ready to pack it all in.’

  ‘Good thing you didn’t,’ Jack smiled.

  ‘We didn’t win the National though.’

  ‘Maybe not this time, but he’s certain to be at the top of the market for next year’s race. We know he’s capable of winning it.’ He gave a chuckle. ‘And we wouldn’t have known that if it hadn’t been for your relentless faith in him.’

  ‘I don’t know about relentless,’ Pippa said with a sheepish smile. ‘Blind more like it. I didn’t know what the hell I was getting myself into when I tore up to Doncaster to pull him out of the sale.’

  Jack grinned.

  ‘Aren’t you glad you did though?’

  Pippa nodded slowly as she tried to decide. The stress and anguish of the past few months was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before, but compared to the drab existence she had been living previously, she wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  ‘Yeah, it’s been a helluva ride.’

  Jack put his empty bowl on the coffee table.

  ‘I needed that,’ he sighed, patting his stomach. He glanced at the window where rivulets of rainwater still coursed a passage down the glass. ‘Looks like it’s beginning to ease up. I should make a move.’

  ‘Okay.’ Pippa hid her disappointment by collecting their bowls and glasses into a tidy pile.

  At the door she handed him his still damp jacket.

  ‘Drive safely,’ she said needlessly.

  ‘I will. And I’ll see you bright and early on Monday,’ he smiled. He opened the front door, letting in a gust of cool air.

  Pippa hugged her arms around her.

  ‘Thanks, Jack,’ she said.

  He gave her a brusque nod.

  ‘Thank you, Pippa.’ At his gruff words, her heart leapt in her chest. ‘Today’s the closest I’ve ever come to winning the Grand National.’