Kate popped into the racing office to report a cut one of her horses had sustained during their morning workout. She opened the door and almost tripped over the threshold in surprise. Saskia and Jack were posing for a selfie, Saskia with a coy smile and Jack looking uncomfortable. Her sudden appearance didn’t help and Jack pulled away and straightened his jacket. He treated them both to his default frown.
‘Everything okay, Kate?’
Kate did her best to ignore what she’d just witnessed. ‘Chic Shadow’s nicked a heel. I’ve syringed it and cleaned it up, but thought I should let you know.’
Jack’s frown deepened. ‘Bad?’
‘I don’t think so. He’s not lame.’
‘Well, remind me tomorrow morning and we’ll have another look before he does any work.’
‘Sure.’
Jack gave an abrupt nod and exited the room into his office. Kate waited for the door to click shut before rushing over to Saskia.
‘Saskia, you crazy fool,’ she hissed. ‘When is this going to stop?’
Saskia smirked as she reviewed the image on her phone. ‘This is one for my Facebook profile, I reckon.’ She held it out for Kate to see. ‘We make a pretty handsome couple, don’t you think?’
Kate threw a wary glance at Jack’s door and brushed past Saskia to her computer.
‘What are you doing?’ Saskia said.
Kate clicked furiously onto Facebook and typed a name into the search field. ‘I’ll show who else make a handsome couple. Look.’ She wrenched the screen sideways so Saskia had a full-on view of Pippa Carmichael’s profile. Her background image was of Aspen Valley at sunset, but like Kate had predicted, her profile picture was of her, Jack, and Gabrielle.
Saskia pouted and snatched the mouse away to close the page. ‘Lighten up, will you?’ she grumbled. ‘I’ve read Russian novels more cheerful than you. Just let me live my own life.’
Kate clenched her teeth. She couldn’t get into a domestic with Saskia when Jack was in the next room. ‘I’ll let you live your life when you decide to grow up,’ she said.
Without waiting for a response she turned on her heel and exited the office.
*
Kate’s mood was not improved when d’Artagnan put in another lethargic effort on the Gallops. Jack called Kate over on her way back down the hill.
‘Does he make any noise?’ he asked. ‘Could be his breathing causing a problem.’
‘No, he sounds clean as a whistle.’
‘Could be he’s just not a good worker. Saves himself for the big days out.’
‘When is his next big day out?’
‘Haydock for the Betfair Chase.’
Kate sucked in her breath. The Betfair Chase would be her first Grade One.
‘But if he carries on like this...’ Jack said, shaking his head.
‘Well, you say that—’ Kate began then stopped herself. Who was she to give a champion trainer advice on how to manage his horses?
Jack raised an eyebrow. ‘Yes?’
‘I think – I think he’s bored.’
‘Bored?’
‘Yes. He’s a smart horse and smart horses get bored quickly. You’ve seen the toys he needs in his stable. I think cantering up this same hill every day is just making him bored.’
‘Horses usually enjoy routine. It’s safe,’ countered Jack.
Kate looked down at her reins and mumbled, ‘D’Artagnan isn’t your usual horse.’
Jack puffed out his cheeks and looked out across the valley for inspiration. ‘Tell you what,’ he said at last. ‘Take him for a spin around the estate.’
Kate stared at him. The estate he was referring to had to be the stately home on the other side of the hill. ‘Aspen Court?’ she said. ‘Are we allowed?’
Jack shrugged. ‘As long as we don’t make it a habit, I’m sure they won’t mind. You ever been?’
She shook her head. She’d seen glimpses of it on In The Running, the reality show that had been following the Ta’ Qali Racing Syndicate, two of whom were members of the household.
‘Then it’ll be an adventure for the both of you,’ said Jack. ‘Go have fun, have a canter through the grove. Just follow the road over the hill. There’s a gate beside the cattle grid.’
‘You mean now?’
Jack gestured to d’Artagnan with distaste. ‘Well, he’s hardly had a workout.’
He started muttering about their chances in the Gold Cup, but Kate was already turning d’Artagnan around, lest he change his mind.
*
At the top of the hill, Kate halted her horse to look around. A brisk breeze lifted d’Artagnan’s mane and seeped through Kate’s jacket. She’d been up here plenty of times, but it had always been on foot to catch horses from the top paddocks and she’d always been in too much of a rush to stop and admire the view. Thunderheads skidded across the kingfisher blue sky, casting shadows across hedged fields that reminded Kate of a lumpy quilt slung over a slumbering giant. A shaft of sunlight turned one hill into emeralds and she could just make out a silvery line trickling across it – a stream or tributary of the River Avon – and she realised Thistle Lodge Stables must be near there.
For a moment, she yearned for the simplicity of Ben’s world. No mother drinking herself into an early grave, no brother taking drugs, no sister sabotaging their jobs, no stress over the horses’ performances at the races.
She looked to her left where, somewhere over the horizon, lay Cheltenham, and Kate remembered why she did what she did. For four days every March, the otherwise unremarkable Gloucestershire town became the epicentre of champions, where its heartbeat pulsed like earth tremors through the jump racing world. The skyline over the neighbouring county was black and a distant grumble of thunder rolled over on the wind.
Down below, Aspen Valley Stables looked toy-like. The tiles on one of the stable block’s four extensions was a different shade of red to the rest, evidence of the extra stabling that had been built in the summer.
Stabling for a hundred and twenty horses, all filled, thought Kate. That had to be a mammoth task, and she was pretty sure the recent developments to the facilities had been in no small part down to Bill Borden’s patronage. His horses accounted for about ten percent of those stables.
It was difficult to get her head round the man she’d met the previous night. He had been so – so normal. Kate didn’t like to think she judged people before she knew them – or even at all – but the Borden contingent had come with a reputation that was hard to ignore: that the big shot investment banker owner wasn’t afraid to flash the cash, that one of his sons ‘worked’ for his daddy and the other got to ride all the sales-topper winners.
Kate shook her head and shivered in shame. None of the Bordens – or the de Jagers – were like that. Sure, they had their problems, but money hadn’t tainted them like she knew it did others. They’d accepted her, after all, hadn’t they?
While Kate sat, lost in thought, d’Artagnan gazed out over the countryside. She ran her hand down his mane, which had thankfully grown out of the punk rocker style he had sported at the start of the season.
She leaned down and placed her cheek beside the warmth of his strong neck. ‘Come on, fella. We’re not going to get to Cheltenham standing around like this.’
*
The aspen grove that Jack had mentioned was dark and spooky. Even d’Artagnan had the woolies, shying at rustles in the undergrowth. A snap of a branch and a blink of shadow made them both jump. Kate clucked her tongue, hoping that a little speed would dispel the eerie whispers of the trees. D’Artagnan broke into a canter, his hoofbeats muffled by the soft carpet of fallen leaves.
Kate stood up in her stirrups and pressed her fists against her horse’s neck. ‘Come on, d’Artagnan. Let’s stretch those legs.’
D’Artagnan flicked an ear, but declined to oblige. A sudden movement through the trees though, and d’Artagnan didn’t need to be asked twice. Kate sat low over his neck. His hooves beat in time with her heart. There was definitely someone following them. But who, she couldn’t think. Groundsmen perhaps? Maybe, but she was sure someone would have called out and asked what they was doing. Visitors to the estate? Kate had a nasty feeling the estate was closed to the public during winter. An icy thought turned her blood cold. Poachers? She’d heard about the killing of Aspen Court’s prized stag.
Out of her peripheral vision she glimpsed shadows moving faster and the more insistent crackle of crushed undergrowth. She pushed for more speed. D’Artagnan responded willingly. Safety lay out in the open parkland, but the grove stretched endlessly before them.
‘Come on, champ. Faster,’ she called.
D’Artagnan’s ears flicked back at the tremor in her voice. Suddenly a rush of tawny brown and tan burst out of the shadows. Kate cried out and d’Artagnan swerved hard, making her clutch his mane. Kate’s eyes darted about her and an almost hysterical laugh of relief bubbled out.
D’Artagnan realised it at the same time.
The deer herd were running with them, behind them, on either side. Spindly legs leapt over tangled bushes. A couple jumped into their path to lead the way. Kate ducked her head beneath her elbow and saw more bringing up the rear. She whooped, and by the way d’Artagnan’s ears pricked forward, she knew his fear had passed as well.
She soon found she didn’t have to urge him on anymore. His blood was up and he wanted to stay with the herd. They hurdled a fallen tree trunk and Kate laughed again as the deer, just a couple of feet either side of them, bounded over as well. D’Artagnan puffed to keep up. The deer might be small, but they were swift, and soon Kate had to admit defeat.
As the light at the end of the grove filtered through, she slowed the big grey to a trot and watched the deer bound out of range.
D’Artagnan snorted and tugged at the reins, wanting to gallop on, but Kate brought him back as they reached the edge of the treeline. She patted his damp neck and grinned.
‘Well!’ she said. ‘That’s not something you do every day, is it?’
D’Artagnan shook his head in response, making her laugh. Out in the open, Kate glimpsed the corner of Aspen Court’s honey gold walls beyond a sloping bank. It seemed a world away from her own. Maybe she would take a wander down and ask if they were open in the off-season. She’d heard that the local hunt met on the front lawns every season for a drag hunt. Perhaps that was something she and Nicholas could go see together.
Just as that idea appealed to her though, fat bullets of rain began to fall. The angry clouds she’d seen earlier had swept away the blue sky. They were in for a drenching.
With a sigh, she turned d’Artagnan to head back to the stables. She had work to do and they’d had their bit of fun for the day. What’s more, the rain heralded a more insistent task to be carried out: she needed to sort things out with her mother.