Francesca Flaherty surveyed the crowds gathering to watch as the racehorses were led round the parade ring. Paddy was deep in conversation with Terry Sullivan, his trainer. She smiled and tried to look relaxed, knowing that this little horse was Paddy’s main chance to make some money and get them out of the precarious position their accountant kept on talking about. In her high heels and her pink suit with the magnificent hat that she’d had made by that new young milliner, she felt a little like a racehorse herself.
Before they left for the Curragh racetrack, Paddy had kissed her and told her she was the most beautiful young thing he had ever seen. Looking over at him with his grey hair and intense expression, his mouth taut, Francesca realized how serious he was. She knew that over the past few days he had put a number of very large bets on their horse, spreading the money. Gambling was serious business and not for fools, Paddy had explained to her often enough. It was about working the odds, interpreting the horse’s form and having the contacts within the industry, jockeys, apprentices, stable lads. She herself had put a fifty-euro bet on just for luck and had the ticket stashed in her neat navy handbag.
She watched as the other horses were led around. Firelady and Mercurio, both huge brown horses, were nervous of the noise and the crowd. Polly’s Party looked smaller and calmer as she tossed her brown mane from side to side. Paddy was right: she was a real cutey. She longed to pet her but Jackie, the stable girl, had told her to wait until after the race was run.
‘We don’t want anything to spook her.’
Mimi and Louisa appeared back from the champagne bar with their men in tow, giving her a thumbs-up as she posed for a photographer. The pink had been a perfect choice – and the hat! She just loved the way the pink pleats rippled as she moved her head for the camera. Minutes later they left the ring as the horses began the long canter down to the starting line, with Timmy Young, their jockey, in Paddy’s orange and black racing colours. Paddy came and slipped his arm around her, Francesca urging him not to worry.
‘How can I not worry!’ he almost shouted. ‘You have no idea how much money is riding on that horse.’
Francesca swallowed hard. There was no need for her husband to be so tetchy with her. It wasn’t her fault that Paddy wanted to treat her like a doll and not involve her in any serious aspect of their lives. How could she have any idea of the money involved if he deliberately chose not to tell her!
‘Paddy, she’s going to win.’
He threw her a despairing look. ‘If she doesn’t, I’m broke.’
Francesca could see he was serious. For once there was no mask of joking or wisecracks – Paddy was telling the truth.
‘Almost every penny we have is riding on her.’
Francesca was speechless. Broke? How could they be? Paddy had always been successful, a winner. Hard work and business savvy had turned his small photocopying business in Talbot Street into a chain of budget computer stores across the country. Following the sale of the company five years ago he’d invested his money, moved it around, bought property, shares, horses, hotels, even a stake in a basement nightclub. She knew that a year ago he’d been refused planning permission for an apartment block on a site he’d paid a fortune for in the hope of doubling his money. But surely he still had his other investments and interests? She knew that her husband, one of life’s movers and shakers, had over the years tended to sail close to the wind, trading shares, dabbling in investments, playing the stock market – but to gamble so much on a horse? She couldn’t believe it.
Lately there had been letters from the bank, problems with credit cards, even talk about downsizing to a smaller house. She didn’t want to think about it. Not today. Paddy would sort things out.
She looked over at Louisa and her sensible husband Matt, a dentist from Celbridge who spent all day fixing up kids’ fillings, and Mimi with her big heart stuck on her boyfriend Don. He lectured in Irish studies at Maynooth College and after eight years together he wouldn’t even commit to buying her beautiful sister a ring. And there was Paddy, whom she had fallen for the minute she’d laid eyes on him.
They’d met literally by accident, on Camden Street, when Paddy had shifted the automatic gears of his Jaguar into reverse instead of drive and hit her precious green Mini. Shocked and outraged, she’d intended giving him a piece of her mind but had burst out crying instead. Paddy had soothed her and wrapped her in the cosy warmth of his navy cashmere coat. Three months later he had asked her to marry him and replaced the battered Mini with a sleek silver BMW.
The thirty-year gap between them had never mattered, as Paddy was the most interesting man she had ever met. Taking a gamble and marrying him had been the wisest decision she had ever made. Some said she had married him for his money but they were wrong. Even if he hadn’t a penny to his name she would still adore him and fancy him like mad.
‘Paddy, stop worrying!’ she beamed, putting on her widest, prettiest smile. He always loved it when she smiled. ‘That little horse, she’s a real little goer. And besides, I’m wearing my Lucky Hat.’
‘Lucky hat?’
‘My new hat! It’s lucky, I can feel it.’
The group made their way quickly to the owners’ enclosure, watching as in the distance the horses were loaded into the starting gate.
‘I’m so nervous,’ confided Louisa. ‘I don’t know if I’ll be able to watch the race.’
‘We have to watch,’ urged Mimi. ‘We’ve to let the horse know we all believe in her. Positive thinking.’
‘Hope Polly’s OK,’ murmured Francesca aloud and silently praying.
They stood together, breaths held, as the starter gun went and the horses took off, Mercurio with his jockey in green in the lead. The pace was fast and four horses clumped together at the front as they came round the bend. Timmy Young was looking for a gap to go through, Firelady huge and strong ahead of him.
Francesca stole a glance at her husband’s face. It was grey, every line and wrinkle obvious – he suddenly looked an old man. Their horse was falling behind, Paddy’s eyes downcast as her sisters went silent.
‘Come on, Polly!’ Francesca urged, praying that the small horse could somehow quicken her pace and break through to leave the rest of the field behind her.
Suddenly the mighty Firelady slipped sideways, her jockey using the whip like a madman as Polly took her chance and edged her pretty little nose through, Timmy determined as she challenged Mercurio, the two of them racing neck and neck. Would she ever do it? Francesca could feel her own heart pounding as she held her breath, the crowd roaring around her, Louisa jumping up and down and going almost purple in the face like she used to when she was a kid.
Polly’s Party was pushing forward, her small head down, concentrating as she left the bigger horse behind and pounded down to the finishing line, the crowds ecstatic as the complete outsider won. Timmy stood up in his stirrups to give a victory wave to their supporters as he was cheered to the winner’s enclosure. Her sisters were like madwomen as Francesca fought to control her tears. Paddy reached for her hand and they fell into each other’s arms and laughed and cried and hugged with utter relief. They were both aware of how close they’d been to ruin.
‘I told you she’d do it,’ smiled Francesca. ‘I was wearing my Lucky Hat!’