At Long Odds (A Racing Romance) (37 page)

‘Instructions?’ he asked, the restless tapping of his whip against his boot the only outward sign of nervous energy.

Ginny shook her head.

‘You know how to ride him. I’ll leave it up to you.’

‘Good. Can I give you some advice though?’

‘Go on.’

‘Don’t panic if we get left behind.’

Ginny grinned, and with the cue of the bell, walked with Alex over to Caspian. He hopped on one leg as Kerry kept the colt walking and Ginny boosted him up into the saddle.

‘I’ll see you in a few minutes,’ she said, giving his knee a squeeze. ‘Good luck.’ She patted Caspian one last time before turning back to her parents and Sally G. In front of her though, Silver Sabre’s lad had led him onto the grassy island and stopped for Razor to mount. Julien effortlessly propelled him onto the grey colt with just one hand on the jockey’s boot and spoke a few last words to him.

He dusted his hands off one another, Ginny guessed not because of Razor’s gleaming boot, but more of a gesture of finality. He had done all he could, now everything was up to Razor and Silver Sabre. Ginny gulped and managed a weak smile. She could see a muscle jumping in the hollow of his jaw, and the tense set of his neck.

What to say? Ginny thought in panic. It would be rude and unsportsmanlike not to wish him luck, but in doing so, would it not seem like she was making light of the outcome – not between Caspian and Silver Sabre, but between him and her? Julien frowned, his dark eyes troubled. He gave her a cursory nod then walked away, leaving her feeling helpless, and hating herself for it.

*

Ginny’s nerve yo-yoed between her head and her toes as the horses paraded in front of the stands. Her concentration wavered between Caspian galloping down the emerald green ribbon of turf to the Start and Julien, standing two rows beneath her. Beside him, Clinton Cole brimmed with confidence. His intrusive laugh was interrupted by the commentator, Nick Stone’s sombre voice. ‘Only a couple left to load now… all set’

Julien didn’t even raise a smile to whatever joke Cole had made. He stood motionless, a wild feline indifference to the tilt of his jaw, reminding Ginny of a panther waiting out their prey. He turned his head to look at her and his predatory gaze softened.

Ginny pulled her focus back to the race. A momentary wave of panic and dread swept over her.

‘What are we doing?’ she breathed. Who was she fooling? She couldn’t win the Dewhurst, not against bloody Pegasus down there next to Caspian!

Nick’s raised voice knocked these thoughts of hysteria aside as it echoed through the grandstand, ricocheting through her senses.

‘They’re off!’

Caspian was slow to break and was hampered by an unbalanced Dunharrow on his right as he exited the stalls. Silver Sabre leapt out of the gate, responding to Razor Sharpe’s determined bid to take up possession of the rail. Far on the outside, Goinggreatguns got the break he needed, catapulting forward and blazing across the track in an attempt to reach the lead.

Ginny forgot the basic requirements for breathing as she watched the horses jostle for a satisfactory position. Goinggreatguns had had to work hard, but was now bowling along a length in front of the field. Vintage Secret was pulling his jockey’s arms out of his sockets, but began to settle as the speedy bay colt ahead of him upped the pace. Quillan and Silver Sabre matched strides behind, both looking for all the world like opposing professional athletes. Dunharrow and Tiger Tiger raced on the outside of Quillan’s flank, obstructing any wide move that the Ramsay colt might attempt, but also blocking any bid that Caspian should make, who was travelling well just behind on his old adversary’s heels.

Ginny grimaced and moved from one foot to the other. They couldn’t afford to get stuck in traffic today. She exhaled as Dunharrow and Tiger Tiger were let out a wrap to join Quillan.

‘Good lad,’ Jim murmured beside Ginny as Alex made the crucial decision of easing Caspian off the rail and protecting his back door.

Dunharrow made steady progress to join Vintage Secret in second and Ginny began to wonder if everyone had been wrong. Had they underestimated this colt? He had beaten Caspian once before, would he prove the victor over them all today? Vintage Secret, loathe to be passed, gripped the bit between his teeth and closed in on Goinggreatguns.

As they reached halfway, Ginny was almost too afraid to look at Silver Sabre and compare his progress with Caspian’s. However, she was neither horrified nor surprised when she did. Both colts were going well, and Alex now manoeuvred his mount to the outside of Quillan as the pace quickened.

Goinggreatguns took them along at an almost breakneck pace, and Vintage Secret, looking very hacked off, wasn’t letting him get away. The two battled on with Tiger Tiger snarling at their heels.

The crowd gave a gasp and an hysterical shout and Ginny fumbled with her binoculars. Only one thing would cause this sort of reaction. Razor Sharpe had given Silver Sabre the command.

All of a sudden the race was on.

Like lightning, the grey colt accelerated as the field approached the dip in the course. Without hesitation, Quillan’s jockey went for his whip. Alex followed suit on Caspian. Silver Sabre had got a head start and had increased the gap between them to two lengths.

Ginny’s binoculars slid out of her sweating palms as the horses neared the stands.

At the front, Silver Sabre sliced between Goinggreatguns and the rail to take up the lead. With arms and legs pumping, Alex sent Caspian after him. For a desperate moment, Ginny thought the colt had had it, that he would stay one-paced throughout the remainder of the race, but with a somersault of her heart, she saw her horse take control. Almost in slow motion, he began to gather momentum, each powerful thrust of his hindquarters and shoulders hurtling him forward, faster and stronger.

In awe, she watched him and Quillan race as one, overtaking Dunharrow and Tiger Tiger.

‘Go, go,
go
,’ she whispered, clutching Jim’s arm.

Caspian and Quillan swept past Goinggreatguns and Vintage Secret in tandem. Glancing over his shoulder and seeing their imminent approach, Razor began to get serious with Silver Sabre, scrubbing his gloved hands up and down the colt’s white mane. Caspian and Quillan both sailed into the dip, matching strides as they reached the grey’s flank, and the momentum Caspian had found became reinforced. He pulled away from Quillan and, for the first time in the race, began to draw up alongside Silver Sabre’s girth.

‘GO!’ Ginny yelled in unison with her father. Adrenalin drained her vocabulary from her making her unable to utter any other word. ‘Go! Go! Go!’

Razor picked up his whip and brought it down on his horse’s side, making the colt spring forward in surprise. This was the first time he had ever felt the whip, and also the first time any horse had looked him in the eye. Not to be outdone, Caspian spurted forward as well, his head stretched low and his body straining as he gained a few more inches. The two colts winged out of the dip and into the final furlong, locked together in a ferocious duel.

Forgetting everything else, Ginny leapt up and down with her parents and Sally G, urging the colt on with every atom of their willpower. But it seemed that now Caspian had drawn level, he couldn’t get past. Silver Sabre was certainly no walk over.

Becoming more hysterical as the wire rapidly approached, Ginny and Jim yelled Caspian’s name, willing the colt to find that little bit more. And suddenly it began to happen.

Ginny was finding it hard to control herself, and for a fleeting second she concerned herself with Jim’s heart condition. It felt like she was having a heart attack, so she could only imagine what his was feeling like. But the bullish roar of the crowd jerked her back to the race.

Inch by bitter inch, Caspian took the advantage. Silver Sabre made one last momentous effort to recapture his lead and retain his flawless record and, once again united, they thundered past the grandstand towards the line. But Caspian was too strong. What few inches the grey colt had regained, were wrenched back and Caspian drew further ahead – first a nose, then a head as the two streaked across the finish.

Overcome, Ginny burst into tears and flung her arms around her father. Jim, never a man to hide his emotions, brushed away the tears streaming down his weathered cheeks as he returned her hug.

‘My clever,
clever
girl,’ he said, holding her close. It was an embrace not only of achievement but also of relief that Ravenhill Stables would be saved.

But for Ginny, as an automatic reaction to that realisation, came that of overwhelming sadness. One of losing something she quite possibly valued most of all. Raising her head from her father’s shoulder, she looked around the stand with wide watery eyes. At last she found him, his hands thrust into his pockets, looking hapless with his shoulders hunched. He glared at the ground, ignoring Clinton Cole having a tantrum beside him. The owner waggled a threatening podgy finger beneath his nose.

Any hope that she may have harboured that the American might show some sort of loyalty to his trainer disappeared like a lanced balloon. Feeling powerless, she watched Julien make his departure from the stand, praying for him to look at her, to see how sorry she was. A flickering flame of hope coursed through her when he stopped, his hand resting on the railing.

He turned and looked across at her.

The flame was forcefully blown out as she took in the expression on his face. She wouldn’t say it was anger or resentment. It was more of a farewell, the grim line of his mouth and smouldering eyes leaving her in no doubt that he held her completely responsible for losing him his best horse. Ginny felt like her heart was being ripped in half. Never had she imagined feeling such loss after such a monumental victory.

‘Come on, lovie,’ Jim grinned. ‘Let’s go welcome our hero. Just like we did his granddam all those years ago.’

Ginny nodded and let herself be pulled towards the exit of the stands. She accepted a handkerchief from her mother and dabbed at her eyes. A television camera was ready to meet them as the Ravenhill party made their way down the walkway to where Alex and Caspian were jogging back. The colt’s coat glistened with sweat and his nostrils flared like poppies. Ginny felt her heart swell with pride as the realisation hit her that Caspian, her ordinary horse, cast aside by the media and critics, had just blown away the best colts of his generation.

Alex was answering questions into a microphone offered to him by a television presenter hurrying to keep up with horse and rider. Kerry was the first to reach them and Alex returned her grin, ignoring the next media question as he placed his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze.

With a feeling of déjà vu, Ginny greeted the returning conquerors with her father beside her. Words failed her.

‘Good job, Alex,’ she managed at last.

He winked, knowing he’d done more than just a good job. Giving Caspian a thorough congratulatory pat on the neck, she took hold of his reins and led him the rest of the way into the winners’ enclosure. A microphone bobbed beside her as the presenter turned away from Alex.

‘Ginny, congratulations!’ he said, patting her on the back. ‘How does it feel?’

She opened her mouth to reply but no words came out. How could she explain when her loyalties felt like they were in a tumble dryer?

‘You’re in shock,’ the presenter grinned. ‘We can see that. I’d say most of us are the same. Did you think Caspian could beat Silver Sabre all along? What are your plans for him now?’

‘I didn’t know what to expect from this race,’ Ginny said, managing to compose herself. ‘We’re going to put Caspian away for the winter and then we’ll reassess what to do with him next year.’

‘Do you see him as a Guineas horse? A Derby horse as well, perhaps?’ he persisted.

A
Classic
horse? Ginny at last allowed herself to believe that was what she might have.

‘I – I don’t know,’ she stammered. ‘Alex hasn’t even had time to weigh in yet. It’s too soon to be making those sorts of judgements.’

‘Well, congratulations on a huge victory,’ he said as they approached the gateway to the parade ring. ‘And congratulations to Caspian, the new Dewhurst Stakes winner.’

Like a relay team, another television channel’s representative appeared as they entered the winner’s enclosure and Ginny’s attention was roped away again. With one eye on her horse and jockey she tried to answer the questions fired at her as well as she could. She stopped as she saw Alex jump off Caspian.

Still grinning like an idiot, Kerry went to throw her arms around him. Alex was too quick. Catching her by the shoulders, he kissed her full on the mouth, gathering her in his arms like Rhett Butler. A frenzy of camera flashes exploded around them. Kerry went limp. The American drew back and gave her his most brilliant smile. Kerry’s eyes were as big as saucers. She stood there, speechless as a fidgeting Caspian bumped her from behind. Alex leaned forward and kissed her again, a gentler, more caring kiss.

A bouquet of microphones at last forced them apart and Ginny smiled at the pair. Kerry’s face was the picture of all that is good and well in one person’s world. Remembering the rush when Julien had first kissed her outside Sally G’s house, she could just imagine what Kerry was feeling now.

Chapter Forty

The party at Ravenhill Stables was still going strong later that evening when Ginny at last found the opportunity to slip outside. The night was dark and moonless. A cool whispering breeze rustled the plants in the front garden as Ginny closed the front door behind her, muffling the loud music which had been blaring in her ears for the past few hours. Inside, the whole family, including Ray and Sarah, were knocking back champagne with Des and his wife, Darragh and friends, Sally G and Alex and Kerry. The stable lass was now sitting on Cloud Nine as well as Alex’s knee and Ginny was sure that the smile on the girl’s face hadn’t faltered once since their Dewhurst victory.

She walked beneath the archway into the yard and across the concourse to Caspian’s stable. She needed a respite from the party, a few moments to herself to think and to rest her facial muscles from having to uphold a smile all evening. Caspian also deserved her congratulations. Not only had he beaten the mighty Silver Sabre, but had put Quillan, a further four lengths adrift, smartly in his place as well.