When Kate arrived at her mother’s house that Saturday to collect Xander, Val was in a surprisingly chipper mood. Her hair was styled and she was wearing make-up for the first time since Kate could remember.
While Xander went in search of a waterproof jacket, Kate sat in the lounge and tried to make civil conversation.
‘Your hair looks nice,’ she said. ‘Did you get highlights as well?’
Val touched her feathered locks and nodded. ‘I figured I deserved a treat.’
Kate hoped the treat was for cutting down on the booze. ‘Wish I could do something with my hair,’ she said, pulling at a strand. ‘But there doesn’t seem to be any point. There’s always a mist on the Gallops, so it’s frizzy within an hour.’
Val gave her a well-you-chose-that-career look. ‘How’s the new house?’
‘Okay. Nice not to have to walk up three flights of stairs, but we’re right opposite a pub.’
By her expression, it was clear Val saw this as no bad thing. ‘Are you going to invite us round for a house-warming party?’
Kate shook her head. ‘Sorry, there’s not going to be a house-warming. Can’t afford it. Mrs Singh decided not to give us back our deposit.’
‘Why not?’
‘Saskia’d been smoking inside and ruined her bedroom carpet as well.’
Val sighed. ‘She’s always been so rebellious. She has that same wild streak as your father. When did she start smoking?’
Kate shrugged. She didn’t like hearing about her father. As far as she was concerned, he didn’t exist. ‘Don’t know. She’s either really good at hiding it or I’m just very inobservant.’
‘Probably a bit of both,’ said Val.
Contrary to her self-confessed lack of observational skills, Kate noticed her mother looking at her watch for about the tenth time since Xander had disappeared into his room. Kate’s eyes narrowed. As well as hair and make-up, Val’s wardrobe looked smarter than usual. ‘You going somewhere?’ she asked.
Val started in her seat, and got up to straighten a picture frame above the fireplace. ‘No, nowhere. Why do you ask?’
‘You just look like you’re going out somewhere, that’s all.’
Val didn’t meet her eye as she fiddled with the placement of the mantelpiece ornaments. ‘Well, I might pop out to the shops while Xander’s gone. How’s he getting on with your boyfriend?’
‘I’ve broken up with him. Besides, Xander never met him.’
‘But you’re about to go see him, aren’t you?’
This time it was Kate’s turn to look flustered. ‘You mean Ben? Oh, he’s just a friend.’
Val looked dubious. ‘That’s not what Xander says.’
‘He’s letting his imagination run away with him,’ said Kate, feeling guilty for placing the blame on her brother. Her imagination was just as flighty when it came to Ben.
Xander reappeared, holding aloft a crumpled jacket. ‘Found it.’
Kate got up and Val showed them to the door. It felt to Kate as if she was making sure they were going. The only times Val had shown her to the door was when she was being chucked out after an argument.
‘Have a good time!’ Val called after them as they walked away.
‘Say hi for me,’ replied Xander with a last wave.
‘Say hi to whom?’ Kate asked.
Xander turned pink. ‘What?’
‘You just said “say hi for me”. Who’s Mum going to see?’
‘No one.’
Kate laughed and looked back to where Val had now closed the door. ‘Oh, come on, Xander. What’s the big secret?’
‘No secret.’
‘Then why won’t—’ Kate stopped and stared at Xander. ‘Has Mum got herself a boyfriend?’
Xander shrugged and didn’t take his eyes of the pavement cracks. ‘Maybe.’
If her mother had someone looking after her and Xander then Kate wouldn’t have to worry so much. On the other hand, what if she’d picked him up in some seedy bar?
‘Is he nice? What’s he like? Where’d she meet him?’
‘He’s all right,’ Xander said. He pulled his hoodie up and quickened his step.
Kate took the hint despite the questions queueing up on her tongue. Who was this man? It was a lot of baggage to take on, and Kate didn’t envy any man the task.
*
Given the weather, which had gone from plain miserable rain to sleeting by mid-afternoon, Kate and Xander’s day out to Thistle Lodge Stables wasn’t a huge success. Even Ben seemed more subdued than usual.
They gathered in Ben’s mobile home for hot drinks afterwards and to dry off in front of the electric heater.
‘I guess Jerry must be close to being sold?’ Kate said, cupping her mug of tea to warm her hands. It was hard to believe he had been a racehorse not so long ago. To her, he was ready for the Olympics. ‘It’s going to be gutting to see him go.’
Leaning his elbows back onto the breakfast bar, Ben looked reluctant. ‘Yeah. But in the circumstances I guess I should be glad.’
Kate gave him a puzzled look.
‘Fiona, the girl who rents the house and three boxes – she’s moving up north in March.’
‘What? Why?’
‘I guess she wants to try out the northern circuit. Competition’s hot down here in the southwest.’
‘Have you found someone to replace her?’
Ben remained expressionless as he took a slurp of his hot drink. ‘No. Hence why I need to sell Jerry sharpish. That’ll bring me in a bit of money to tide the place over for a while.’
‘Isn’t your dad, like, loaded?’ said Xander from the sofa.
‘Yeah, but that’s his money, not mine.’
‘Could you ask him for a loan?’ Kate suggested.
For the first time, impatience registered in Ben’s eyes. ‘No. He’s done enough for me as it is.’
Kate looked away and sipped her drink in thought. She recalled discussing Ta’ Qali’s Greatwood Hurdle win with Frankie the other morning and the racehorse welfare charity behind the name. ‘What if you start up a charity?’ she said.
‘A charity? Are you kidding?’
‘Why not? Greatwood does it.’
‘Well, I’ve only got half a dozen horses for starters. It’s not exactly a massive operation.’
‘Does it need to be?’ Xander asked. ‘My mate Paul’s mum works at a hospice for old timers and they’ve only got, like, a dozen patients.’
Ben shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I should think half a dozen horses cost a lot more than a dozen OAPs. Securing funding would be a mission.’
‘Why don’t you ride in more races?’ Xander asked. ‘You could pay for it with the prize money.’
‘I’m an amateur,’ Ben replied with a smile. ‘We don’t get paid.’
‘What?’ Xander looked both disgusted and disappointed. ‘How can you be an amateur when you’ve been riding all your life?’
‘In Ben’s case it’s more of a level of qualification than an actual reflection of his abilities,’ explained Kate. ‘Ben won the amateur’s championship a few years back.’
Ben looked at her in surprise and Kate laughed. ‘Don’t act so shocked.’
‘It was a long time ago,’ said Ben, looking apologetic. ‘I’d almost forgotten myself.’
‘You won a championship title and you forgot?’ said Xander in disbelief.
Ben swirled the dregs of his coffee around his mug then pushed himself away from the table to dispose of it in the kitchenette. ‘It wasn’t as great as it sounds.’
‘Seems naff to win a championship then give up,’ said Xander.
Ben didn’t look round from his position at the sink. ‘Yeah, well. When you’ve got your daddy buying you all the best horses, you don’t always get the best reception in the weighing room.’
Kate noted the tense set to his shoulders, his neck muscles taut. She bit her lips together to keep from pressing for details. She so wanted to rule out Frankie’s claim that he’d been banned for substance abuse. If Ben wasn’t a popular figure with other jockeys then it was very possible that the information given by Rhys was a rumour.
‘Do you even enjoy it?’ Xander said. ‘If the other jockeys don’t like you and you don’t win any prize money, what’s the point in carrying on?’
Ben turned around and blew out his cheeks. ‘I owe it to my dad. Now, are you guys going to help me do the feeds before you go?’
Kate nodded, eager to undo any damage their questions might have caused. ‘Of course. Xander, get your feet off the sofa.’
They collected their jackets and boots and opened the flimsy door onto the arctic rain.
Following the hunched shoulders of Ben back to the stables, Kate mulled over his words. Far from explaining things and putting her curiosity to bed, they had thrown more questions up. Ben worked his guts out at Thistle Lodge Stables, earning a measly living, doing it all for his grandfather because he owed it to him. He rode as a jockey for his father, not because he enjoyed the thrill of winning or the banter in the weighing room, but because he owed it to him. For such a straight forward guy, who never seemed to ask anything of anyone, he seemed to be indebted to enough people.