‘He’ll have improved after his last run and a few small weeks can make all the difference to a horse so young. He might have had a hiccup in the Solario Stakes, but anybody who discounts him in the Dewhurst is a fool.’
‘We might have lost the battle but the war ain’t over, right?’
‘Exactly,’ Jim said. ‘And I know if we do win the war, then I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have running Ravenhill.’
Ginny flushed.
‘Dad, you and Rijk Swanepoel are going to give me a big head.’
‘Rijk said the same thing?’
‘To the same effect. He said he’d see us in the parade ring at Royal Ascot next year.’
Jim chuckled.
‘There you go then. You have to believe in yourself, Ginny.’
‘I do – well, some of the time – but next year is going to be tougher for me if we manage to stay in business,’ Ginny admitted, thinking of Julien.
‘It’d be plain sailing, as far as I can see. The Dewhurst is the richest two-year-old race on the calendar so we’ll have some financial security and people will come flocking to Ravenhill’s stable door with their horses to be trained by you.’
She gave him an indecisive smile.
‘Maybe. We’re not the only ones with a lot to lose in the Dewhurst though.’
‘Who do you mean? Julien Larocque and Clinton Cole?’
Ginny nodded.
‘Don’t you worry about other people’s problems, lovie.’
She chewed her lip. It would be so easy to tell her father that they would be very much her problems as well.
‘I suppose so,’ she said, deciding against it.
‘Good girl. You need to toughen up. You just missed him by the way.’
‘Who?’
‘Julien Larocque.’
Ginny’s blood froze.
‘Oh?’ she said, keeping her tone light.
‘Yeah, left about quarter of an hour ago.’
Ginny exhaled with relief and made a mental note to thank Jack for getting stuck on top of the wardrobe and delaying her departure.
‘What did he have to say for himself?’ She knew this sounded a bit mean, but she didn’t know how else to approach the subject.
‘I wish you’d give him a chance, Ginny. He’s not part of the Third Reich. He always manages to find something nice to say about you.’
‘He does?’ Ginny toyed with a piece of thread, which was hanging from the hem of her shirt and avoided looking at her father.
‘Yes. Although, the way you speak about him hardly warrants it. What have you got against him?’
I don’t know but I sure wish it was my body, a voice in Ginny’s head murmured.
‘I – I don’t think he’s a bad guy now, I guess,’ Ginny relented. ‘He just used to get under my skin, that’s all.’
‘I know. You weren’t very good at disguising it.’
‘Really?’ For a moment Ginny felt alarmed. The chemistry between her and Julien when they were within a hundred yards of each other was almost tangible. Had Jim spotted the attraction?
‘Yes, Ginny, and you’ve always been terrible at fibbing.’ Ginny felt even more distressed. ‘You don’t know how grateful your mother and I were for that when you were younger. You could never sneak out to clubs or bunk school.’
‘How do you know?’ she replied, trying to keep cool. ‘I might have been swilling tequilas at the pub whilst you and Mum were asleep.’
‘Well then, maybe I’m not giving you enough credit. It takes pretty good acting to hide a tequila hangover. But getting back to Julien Larocque. He came in to see how I was. Very nice of him. Asked after you.’
‘What did he say?’ Ginny replied, attempting to disguise the hope in her voice.
‘He said ’ow is Ginny?’ Jim put on a French accent for effect.
‘And you said…’
‘I said you were fine. You are, aren’t you? A little down lately, maybe?’
‘Maybe a little. So much going on,’ Ginny said vaguely. ‘You didn’t tell him that though, did you?’
‘Only that you’ve been very brave about this whole season.’
‘Oh, Dad! That makes me sound like some feeble female.’
‘He agreed with me.’
‘Oh.’ Ginny didn’t know what else to say in reply. She didn’t want Julien to think she was being brave; she wanted him to think she was the love of his life!
‘He seemed almost keener to know how you were than about me.’
‘Did you take exception to that?’ Ginny gulped.
‘No, but I’m interested to know why.’
‘The last time we spoke, it was just after Sequella died. I wasn’t in a very good state.’ At least that much was true. Even if Jim could really see through her lies, she might still be able to get away with just bending the truth.
‘Very good of him then.’ Jim looked a little puzzled, as if aware that Ginny wasn’t being entirely honest. She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. She pointed to the vase of flowers on the bedside table.
‘Is that from him?’
‘In a roundabout way. His sister is over from France. She gave them to me.’
Ginny’s heart began to thump.
‘His sister?’
‘Yes.’ Jim frowned at her desperate expression. ‘Very nice young lady. Dominique, I think she said her name was.’
‘Short dark hair, tall?’
‘Yes. Have you met her?’
Ginny exhaled, shocked into semi-paralysis with relief. She blinked in an effort to regain her composure, aware of Jim narrowing his eyes at her.
‘No, not really. I just saw her in the yard when we were passing this morning.’
She looked away, desperate to change the topic. She frowned at the flowers.
‘They’re fake,’ she said, reaching out and feeling a petal.
‘Infection control risk,’ Jim snorted. ‘Apparently, you can’t send sick people flowers anymore. Damn cotton wool society –’
Ginny sighed with relief. With Jim distracted and complaining about the NHS, she could try recover from her shock. She’d done it again. She’d jumped to the first conclusion that had sprung into her brain. At least this time she hadn’t had the opportunity to slap Julien and accuse him of betraying her.
Chapter 38
‘Good job,’ Ginny murmured, patting Alex on the back as they walked away from Ripon’s presentation stand a few days later.
‘Easy as pi,’ the young American replied with a grin. ‘The handicapper’s gonna get him for this though.’
Ginny nodded. Raccoon had won going away and she conceded it was probably only because of the light weight they’d been allocated.
Still, she told herself, a win’s a win. And it was her third in seven days. Even Libran Charter had points on the board now with a hard-fought win at Salisbury.
‘I’ve got to go meet some friends so I’ll leave you to it. If you want to hang on an hour or so, I can give you a lift home,’ Ginny offered.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll ride with Darragh in the lorry. I’ve got to get back to collect my winnings.’
Ginny stopped and looked at him with concern.
‘Alex, you’re not allowed to bet. You’re a jockey.’
Alex gave her another flash of pearly whites.
‘A double Bourbon is my winnings. Kerry said she’d buy me a drink if I won.’
‘Phew,’ she exhaled. ‘You had me worried for a second there.’ They continued on their path towards the Owners and Trainers Lounge and Ginny, trying to sound as casual as possible, spoke again. ‘You and Kerry have been seeing a lot of each other.’
Alex shrugged.
‘We work together. It’s impossible not to see each other.’
‘Yes, but –’ Ginny hesitated. It wasn’t any of her business to go nosing in other people’s relationships. They drew to a halt outside the glass doors and she gave Alex another pat on the shoulder. ‘Kerry’s a great girl
. We’re lucky to have her. Now, go enjoy your drink and well done on Raccoon.’
‘See ya,’ Alex winked.
After ordering herself a drink, Ginny scanned the lounge, settling at last on a couple standing to one side.
‘Monica. Henry.’
‘Ginny! Good to see you!’ Monica trilled. ‘Well done in the last.’
‘Thanks very much. And thanks to you as well, Henry, for sponsoring today’s card.’
Henry fobbed her off with a wave of his hand.
‘Saunders Pharmaceuticals footing the bill is my father’s doing, not mine. I’m a little more tight-fisted than that.’
‘How was the honeymoon?’
‘It was fabulous,’ Monica gushed. ‘Wasn’t it, darling? We spent a week in Rome then another in Venice. Gorgeous weather. And it gets better. Guess what Daddy bought us for a wedding present?’
‘Um,’ Ginny began with uncertainty. Knowing the eccentricity of Monica’s father, it was just as likely to be a villa in France as a second hand Ford.
‘Oh, you’ll never guess. He got us a racehorse!’ Monica squeaked.
‘Wow, that’s great,’ Ginny said, impressed. She’d got over being envious of Monica’s wealth a long time ago and as much as she could do with some cash inflow right now, she wasn’t going to get jealous of her friend. ‘Have you already bought it?’
‘No, we’re going to the Tattersalls Sales next month to choose one. It’s going to be so exciting – I love shopping!’
Ginny laughed. Monica’s good humour was infectious.
‘Well, good luck. I hope you get a bargain.’
‘Oh, Daddy said we’re going top of the range for this one. It’s almost as good as when he gave me a credit card for my twenty-first.’
Ginny’s business mind clicked into action.
‘Have you thought about who’s going to train it?’
Monica stopped short. She hadn’t thought beyond the shopping trip.
‘Probably Andrew Pearson,’ Henry piped up.
‘Top trainer,’ Ginny acknowledged, taking a sip of her drink.
Henry looked at her through narrowed eyes, a small smile on his lips, knowing what Ginny was thinking. Monica found her tongue at last.
‘Why don’t we send it to Ginny, darling?’
‘Because I know Andrew’s brother from university. I have to show some loyalty.’
‘But Ginny and I went to school together,’ Monica pouted. ‘I have to show some loyalty too.’
Ginny could see this turning into a domestic and she took a step backwards, regretting having even mentioned it.
‘Really, it’s okay, Monica. Andrew Pearson’s one of the best trainers around. Being turned down in favour of him isn’t that bad.’ She admitted to herself that actually it was pretty bad if all potential customers sidestepped her in preference to Andrew Pearson. Ravenhill would close down.
‘But you’re also a very good trainer,’ Monica persisted. ‘Don’t you have something running in that big race coming up? I’m sure I heard something on the grapevine.’
‘The Dewhurst Stakes? Yes, I’ve got Caspian entered.’
‘Well, there you go then,’ she said to Henry. ‘If Ginny’s got a horse good enough to run in the Dewhurst, then I’d be happy for her to train mine.’
‘Being entered and winning it are two very different things,’ Henry reasoned.
Ginny tried not to take offence. He was right, after all.
‘Oh, darling. It’s such a shame.’ Monica gazed up at her husband, her eyes becoming as wide and gentle as a doe’s, her sweeping eyelashes completing the effect.
Ginny suppressed a smile as Henry started to look uncomfortable.
‘Okay, okay,’ he relented, holding up his hands in defeat. ‘I’ll make you a proposition, Ginny. If you win the Dewhurst then you can train this horse for us. And,’ Henry paused as he put his arm around Monica’s waist, ‘we’ll send you Monica’s Christmas present from me as well.’
Ginny almost choked on her drink. Monica squealed and spilt Henry’s gin and tonic over his hand as she threw her arms around him.
‘A racehorse for Christmas? For me?’
‘Only if you’re good,’ Henry said, kissing her forehead.
Ginny tried to compose herself, but couldn’t stop the wide grin spreading across her face.
‘You’re on,’ she said, holding out her hand for Henry to shake. If Caspian won the Dewhurst, not only would Ravenhill have some financial security, but they would now be guaranteed two new – and no doubt top class – recruits. Ginny breathed easier, for although the pressure had been turned up, it seemed a bit more stability was to be gained if they succeeded. Suddenly though, her high spirits floundered. Her conversation with Monica and Henry had been like the moment you wake up to a beautiful day before you remembered you had a dentist’s appointment later on. Business-wise, it appeared she had a lot to gain. It was what she would lose in so doing that now overrode her smile.
Later that evening, Ginny stood outside the office, tapping a thin white envelope against the palm of her hand as she deliberated what to do with it. It was addressed to Cobalt Lodge. She had found it tucked in amongst Ravenhill’s post on her return. She would of course make sure it got to Cobalt Lodge, but she didn’t know if she wanted to make a personal delivery. She hadn’t spoken to Julien for nearly a fortnight and it was killing her not having any contact with him at all. Even if they were arguing, at least there was some satisfaction to be had from his presence.
The Dewhurst Stakes was less than a week away. Things would be different after that race. She had to speak to him now before things changed.
Striding out of Ravenhill’s gates and in through Cobalt Lodge’s, she clutched the letter in her hand and knocked on Julien’s front door. There was no answer. She waited a few more seconds before knocking again, harder.
‘Where are you?’ she muttered when there was no response. ‘You must be in. Your car’s here.’ Her hand wavered in front of the letter box. The easiest thing to do would be to just slide it through and walk away.
Still she hesitated. She looked around again and only then did she notice a dim light shining through his racing office’s back window. She withdrew her hand from the letter box and walked back down the front path.
A light rap on the open door had Julien look up, surprise showing in his expression when he saw it was Ginny. He got to his feet and walked around from behind his desk. He gave her a small curious smile.
‘Come in.’
Ginny took an uncertain step into the office and flapped the envelope in her hand.
‘This was in amongst our post. It’s yours.’
‘Thanks,’ Julien said, taking the letter and frowning at the postmark. ‘Sit down, please.’
‘I really only came to deliver –’
‘I insist.’
Ginny sat. Julien perched on the edge of his desk and looked at Ginny.
‘We need to talk, don’t we?’ he said.
Ginny hated those words. They always filled her with foreboding.
‘I don’t think so, Julien.’ She felt like such a hypocrite but couldn’t help it. She had purposefully come over here so she could talk to him but now she was chickening out.
‘How is your father?’
‘He – he’s fine,’ she stammered, wrong-footed. If they were going to talk, she’d presumed it would be about each other. ‘He’s back home now.’
‘I went to visit him when he was in hospital.’
‘I know. He said. It was very kind of you.’
‘He told me you’re staying on at Ravenhill.’
Ginny nodded.
‘You’re not going back to South Africa?’
She shook her head.
Julien chewed his bottom lip.
‘What are your plans after the Dewhurst?’ he asked.
Ginny averted her gaze.
‘I don’t know. I don’t really want to talk about it.’
‘I know Raven
hill’s in trouble, Ginny. I just want to know that you’ll be prepared for what happens after the Dewhurst. By the sounds of it, Jim is pinning all hopes on winning the race.’
Ginny’s head jerked up, her eyes flashing with anger.
‘What happens after the Dewhurst? After we lose, you mean? After you win?’
Julien drummed his fingers on the edge of his desk.
‘Come on, Ginny. Look at the facts.’
‘No, Julien! Don’t be so bloody sure of yourself!’
‘I’m sure of myself because I know Silver Sabre has the best chance of winning!’
‘But you don’t know Caspian.’ Ginny sat forward in her chair and glared up at him. ‘He might have had a bad run last time out, but he’s just as good as Silver Sabre on the Gallops!’
Julien stood up straight and in a stride was in front of Ginny. He leaned down and rested his hands on the armrests of her chair and looked her square in the eyes.
‘Did you watch the Mill Reef Stakes the other day?’ he countered.
Ginny nodded, shrinking back. Silver Sabre had again trounced his rivals.
‘You might think Caspian is as good as Silver Sabre at home, but Silver Sabre is the only one who manages to pull it out the bag when it really matters,’ he said.
‘That’s not true! We’ve just been unlucky! We needed time!’
‘Ginny, stop it –’
‘No! You stop it, Julien! Don’t start counting your winnings just yet.’ She’d wanted to talk to Julien, to hear him speak to her, but this wasn’t the topic she would have chosen. With a shove against his chest, she pushed him away from her. She stood up, but wasn’t quick enough to escape.
Julien grabbed her by the wrists and swinging her round, pushed her up against the wall. His rapid breathing was hot against her skin as he faced her, only inches away.
She struggled and he forced her hands up beside her shoulders so she couldn’t move.
‘Why are you doing this, Ginny?’ he said in a controlled tone.
‘Doing what? You’re the one holding me against my will!’ She felt helpless with her hands trapped, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath she took.
At Long Odds Page 28
