Flora was shattered. Running around after Dylan as well as taking care of the training yard was taking its toll. Dark circles hung below her eyes. Dylan was now managing to get up and about a bit, but he hadn’t returned to work full time yet. Instead, he did as much paperwork as possible from home, leaving Flora to attend to the staff and horses.
She had just ridden a horse at full pelt down the all-weather woodchip gallops and felt invigorated. She passed the stables, which were being mucked out by the busy grooms. Fresh hay and buckets of water stood outside, ready to replace yesterday’s.
Marching into the office, she heard the phone ring. Quickly picking up the receiver, she was just about to speak when a voice barked at her. ‘Is that Delany’s Racing Yard?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Where’s Dylan Delany then?’ Affronted by the sharp tone, Flora decided to tread carefully.
‘He’s unavailable at the moment. Can I help you? I’m the assistant trainer.’
‘Suppose you’ll do.’
Charming. Flora paused, waiting for the rather angry voice to continue, which it did without any prompting.
‘I need someone to look at my horse. It’s a bloody waste of space and costing me a bloody fortune.’
‘Who’s speaking, please?’ Flora asked, her instincts started to ring warning bells.
‘Roper, Graham Roper. I own Phoenix Rising, but the only thing that horse is rising is my blood pressure, plus the fees it’s costing me to keep it!’ he thundered.
Flora knew this horse. She’d seen Phoenix Rising run a few times. The reason Flora remembered the poor horse was because he had trailed in last every time, and received a good thrashing from each frustrated jockey who had ridden him. Flora’s heart went out to the beautiful horse, with its rich brown coat that shone like French-polished mahogany. Instantly she acted on her gut feeling. Where horses were concerned, Flora’s intuition was invariably spot-on.
‘We’ll look at Phoenix for you,’ she smoothed, trying to sound professional, as well as calming the irate owner down.
‘You will?’ He sounded surprised as well as relieved.
‘Yes. Where is he at the moment?’
‘Here, in my stables. It’s been in a few training yards. The last one was Fox’s, but I’ve just had a blazing row with that idiot Sean Fox and told him where to go.’ She could imagine. Seamus’ dad, Sean Fox, was renowned for his fierce temper. Graham Roper would have made a fine match for him. Meanwhile, a horse was suffering, thought Flora bleakly.
‘Can you deliver him tomorrow?’ she asked.
‘I can deliver the lump today,’ retorted Roper with a snort.
Flora closed her eyes. She hated any kind of cruelty to an animal but knew a conversation with Dylan was necessary before agreeing to take the horse that day.
‘I need to speak to Mr Delany first—’
‘Tell him, he either takes my horse, or it’s heading for the knacker’s yard,’ cut in an ice-cold voice.
Flora’s eyes filled. ‘Tomorrow. Bring Phoenix tomorrow morning, first thing.’
‘Right you are.’ The phone slammed down.
Flora took a deep breath and decided to head off home early. She desperately needed to speak to Dylan.
Dylan was propped up by his bureau, papers spread out before him. He’d been busy contacting owners and chasing up fees, plus arranging for all the horses’ six-monthly blood tests.
He half turned to Flora, not expecting to see her this early. ‘Everything OK?’ he asked, still looking at his paperwork.
‘No.’
Dylan stopped what he was doing. She had his full attention now. ‘What is it Flora?’ He frowned at the worried expression on her face.
‘We’ve had a call from some owner called Graham Roper.’
Dylan shook his head. ‘Grim Reaper more like,’ he muttered.
‘You’ve heard of him?’
‘Too right. He makes Sean Fox look like Father Christmas. He’s owned a few horses in his time, but he’s no horse lover.’
‘I gathered that. He wants us to train Phoenix Rising.’
Dylan sucked in a breath; he too had seen this horse run. ‘Have you seen its form?’
Flora sighed. ‘I know, but, Dylan, you should have heard the way he was talking. He sounds a complete ogre. That poor horse is going to suffer unless we take it on. Sean Fox has tried.’
Dylan gave a harsh laugh. ‘I bet he has,’ he replied, knowing full well just how Sean Fox would have dealt with it.
‘I said he could drop him off tomorrow morning,’ Flora stated quietly.
‘What?’ Dylan’s eyes widened.
‘Please, Dylan, he says Phoenix is for the knacker’s yard otherwise.’
Dylan could see how upset she was, but they were running a business, not a charity.
‘Flora, I’m sorry, but I really don’t think this is viable.’
‘I’ll sort him. I’ve the patience,’ she countered, hope in her eyes.
Dylan swallowed. This was hard. It killed him to see her like this.
‘Just give me two weeks. If you don’t see any improvements then… then we’ll have to let him go.’ Her voice cracked as she finished speaking.
And this was before the horse had even got here, thought Dylan dubiously. He couldn’t fault Flora’s reasoning, though; two weeks wasn’t a lot to ask. He admired her passion, which was why she was his assistant trainer, he reminded himself. He also reminded himself of Flora’s hard work and commitment towards the yard and felt he couldn’t deny her this one request. With a heavy sigh, he relented.
‘OK. Two weeks.’
Flora went to hug him. ‘Oh, thanks, Dylan!’
He winced in pain as she squeezed his broken ribs.
*
The next morning, as arranged, Graham Roper pulled up at the training yard with Phoenix Rising in a trailer. Dylan chose to be there with Flora, not trusting Roper to do business decently with Flora. They both flinched at the way he was handling his horse, pulling roughly at the reins, tugging at its mouth. Flora couldn’t bear it. She rushed across and offered to take over. Immediately he flung the reins at her.
‘Help yourself,’ he said flatly. Dylan wanted to punch his arrogant face. ‘So, Delany,’ Graham Roper stared squarely at Dylan, ‘think you can do something with it, then?’
Dylan eyed him coolly. ‘We’ll do what we can.’ He was keen not to make any promises.
‘You’re its last chance,’ Roper replied, almost accusingly.
Dylan didn’t care for his tone or his attitude, and he was glad Flora had talked him into taking the horse. He looked towards Flora, who was gently stroking Phoenix. Even now, the horse was slightly trembling. Dylan also spotted the scars that the excess of whipping had caused and clenched his jaw.
‘I said, we’ll do what we can. He’s in good hands,’ Dylan reiterated in a steely voice.
‘Pah! Good luck with that.’ Roper flicked his hand dismissively. ‘Right, I take it there’s something to sign then?’
‘My office is this way,’ directed Dylan. He turned to speak to Flora, but she’d already gone. No doubt she’d taken the horse quickly away in case this monster changed his mind, thought Dylan wryly.
Inside the stables, Flora continued to sooth Phoenix’s jumping nerves. She softly massaged the horse’s strained muscles and back, then gently rubbed wound gel into the long, thin risen welts from the whip. Flora could see his hind legs were swollen. This could be for a number of reasons, but judging by the horse’s size and shape it wasn’t down to obesity or lack of exercise; more like trauma, she concluded with anger. She hosed the inflamed legs with cold water and applied liniment before bandaging them. Phoenix loved the way she pacified his tired flesh and butted her gently to carry on.
Flora laughed quietly. ‘You’re not used to this, are you, old boy?’ The horse neighed in reply and butted her again. Flora flung her arms round his neck. ‘It’s all right, Phoenix. You’re safe now.’
*
Sebastian was feeling anything but safe. He took a steady breath and prepared himself as he walked into the doctor’s surgery. He hadn’t had to wait long before his name was called to go through.
‘Hello, Sebastian,’ Dr Giles smiled. ‘Take a seat.’ Once Sebastian was sitting opposite his desk, he asked the usual, ‘So, what can I do for you?’ He’d noticed Sebastian’s slight limp as he’d entered, plus the pale, tired face.
Sebastian coughed slightly, ‘I feel exhausted all the time and my leg appears to be dragging sometimes.’
Dr Giles nodded. ‘I see. When does it seem to drag?’
‘After about forty minutes’ walking or jogging. Also, when I’m really tired.’
‘Do you suffer any cramps?’
‘Yes. At night my leg often spasms.’
‘Have you experienced any other symptoms?’
‘No, not really. Just the tiredness and dragging leg.’
Dr Giles rose from behind his desk. ‘I’ll just take a look at you.’ He reached for a small, silver torch and shone it in Sebastian’s eyes. Then he asked him to sit on the side bed and tested his reflexes by tapping below his kneecaps. All the while his face was set in concentration, giving very little away. Sebastian tried to read any signs at all, but the doctor’s expression remained impassive. Finally, after examining him thoroughly, Dr Giles directed Sebastian back to his chair.
‘Do you think I should consider physiotherapy?’ he asked.
The doctor looked squarely at him. ‘You could try physiotherapy. It certainly wouldn’t do any harm,’ Sebastian sensed a ‘but’ coming, ‘but, I think we need to delve a little deeper.’
Sebastian gulped. ‘How deep?’
‘I’m going to refer you to a neurologist.’
‘A neurologist?’ he squeaked.
Dr Giles nodded slowly, ‘Yes, Sebastian, a neurologist.’