Across the Sands of Time (13 page)

‘That's because I wasn't. My name happened to be dragged through the mud along with several others, but I had nothing to do with it and I saw no reason to bring it up.'

‘I see. The thing is, Perrit has strong connections with the Irish racing scene. If he should start spreading rumours it could make things very difficult for us. As you know, a good chunk of our profit comes from the equine side of the practice. People are always quick to take their custom elsewhere if they scent trouble.'

‘Yes,' Dominic agreed, with a horrible sinking feeling inside. The past always caught up with you. Maybe he should have stuck out for getting his name cleared. If it hadn't been for Aisling he'd have done just that.

‘Is that all?' he said in a voice tight with bitterness.

‘For now. As things stand, Perrit's made the point that he doesn't want you anywhere near his horses in future. It's to be hoped others don't follow his example.'

Dominic was silent. He had believed himself settled here. He had a job he enjoyed, a decent home and a good social life. And there was Thea. Her quiet face and slow smile rose in his mind and he swallowed.

He didn't want Thea involved in any of this. On the other hand, he wasn't prepared to go without a fight.

‘So what am I expected to do?' he asked his boss. ‘Give in my notice, just because a single client has come up with some gossip guaranteed to be a string of lies?'

‘No, of course not. I'm simply putting you in the picture. You're doing a good job here, Dominic. I wouldn't want to lose you.'

‘But if it's a choice between me and losing clients to a rival practice, we both know what the outcome will be.…' Dominic finished grimly.

Freddie Barnes had spread his hands in a way that was open to interpretation, and the discussion had come to a close.

As if that hadn't been enough, Dominic had arrived home that evening to find Aisling waiting for him – as heart-stoppingly fetching as ever. At first he had wanted nothing to do with the garbled story she had flung at him regarding new evidence, and a pressing need to put matters right.

But after a while he detected a quiet resolve in Aisling that made him give her the benefit of the doubt. Following the morning's developments, it had been a simple matter to ring his boss and, with a few well chosen words, arrange some leave.

‘We turn off here,' Aisling said suddenly. ‘Ahead on the right.'

Frowning in puzzlement, he indicated and turned into the narrow by-road and then through a stone-pillared gateway, drawing up outside a tranquil white-walled building in grounds that were obviously newly landscaped.

The Hospice of St Theresa
, a noticeboard in subdued green lettering on a buff background informed. Dominic quirked an eyebrow enquiringly.

In a graceful gesture Aisling arranged a gauzy scarf over her dark hair, turning to him.

‘Dom, I should warn you this could be an ordeal. I certainly
found it so when I came. You can bring Trina. They don't mind dogs here.'

They clambered out of the car, the dog leaping around, glad to be free. Dominic called her to him and clipped on the leash. The rain had eased, a fitful sunshine washing the landscape in watery light. Overhead, sea-birds wheeled and called. The familiar air of Dominic's homeland was soft on his face.

‘Right then,' he said to Aisling. ‘Lead the way.'

‘M
urty?'

Dominic gazed in disbelief at the figure in the easy chair, shock ripping through him despite Aisling's hinted warning. Short, whippy, with a wind-scrubbed red face, Murty Miles had been the essence of robust good health as he laughed his way past the winning post of more jump races than Dominic could name.

Now, all the eager vitality was gone. Murty's clothes hung on him and the skin that stretched over the high cheekbones was pale. But the well-remembered glint of humour was still there in the grey-blue Irish eyes.

‘Dominic, lad. It's grand to see you,' Murty greeted him, his deep, lilting voice strangely weakened. He sent Aisling a nod, his eyes twinkling. ‘And Aisling, me darlin'. Lovely as ever, so y'are.'

‘Ah, go on, you old rogue. Sweet-talk is all I've come for, and well you know it!' Aisling quipped, effectively easing the moment of awkwardness.

She set about arranging the chairs around a low table and Dominic sank into one gratefully, glancing around him. The day room of the hospice was bright and welcoming. A nurse bustled in with flowers in a tall vase, giving Murty a cheery word in passing, clicking her tongue to the dog who had accompanied the visitors.

Trina, her copper coat gleaming in the pale Wexford sunlight that poured in through the big windows, had relinquished her favourite pink ball at Murty's feet and now grinned up at him hopefully.

‘Not here, you daft animal,' Murty told her. ‘Sure, is it trying to get me thrown out you are?'

Stroking her, playing absently with her silky ears, the jockey launched straight into the reason for summoning Dominic to his side.

‘I'll not have to tell you what I'm doing here, Dom, it's as plain as the nose on your face. Point is, my days are numbered and there are certain issues that need to be put right before I go.'

‘Would it be to do with the doping case?' Dominic guessed.

‘It would.'

Murty continued to fondle the dog, whilst Dominic fixed his gaze unseeingly on the grounds beyond the window, rerunning in his mind the chapter of events that had led up to his disgrace – Aisling entering the home they were putting together, her face a quixotic mix of anxious optimism, excitement and doubt.

At Ferlann Ridge that day she'd been approached by a guy who had offered ‘to see her right' if she'd slip a titbit to a horse in a specific race.

‘He said it's harmless, Dom,' she'd told him. ‘It'll just slow the horse down a bit, that's all. No one will think anything of it. They're used to seeing us feeding titbits to the horses.'

Dominic had stared at her – incredulous, accusing.

‘You're not serious? Do you honestly believe I'd have a part in something like that? Aisling, this a doping mob you're talking about. It's trouble.'

‘Oh, come on, now, don't be getting all high-handed! It's only this once, and it's big money, Dom.' She named a sum that made him blink. ‘Think what we could buy for the house.'

‘Forget the house!'

He'd gone ballistic, demanding to know if she realized what she was getting herself into, and what the consequences of discovery would be. Not just for herself, but for him too.

Did she in fact know him at all to think he'd ever consider such a dangerous practice? He was a vet, for heaven's sake, committed to the health and well-being of animals, not to harming them in any way.

The verbal battle that followed had been short and rancorous. He'd turned on his heel and slammed out. As it turned out, Aisling had then had a last-minute fit of conscience and backed out.

‘Well, I remembered seeing a horse in a bad way after having dope,' she'd admitted sheepishly. ‘It wasn't a pretty sight.'

How very clearly Dominic remembered her words. But had she told him the truth?

The horse had reacted. A stable hand reported having seen Dominic feeding treats to the animal in question and a disciplinary hearing followed.

Dominic, protesting his innocence, half-suspected Aisling, resolved to keep her name out of it and ended up taking the blame.

Now having a black mark against his name with the Irish Jockey Club, his career as a Ferlann Ridge vet in ruins as well as his future with Aisling, Dominic had fled to England and the post in the quiet backwater of Parkgate, to lick his wounds and piece together a new life.

Many were the nights he had woken in a cold sweat, wondering, puzzling, on the verge of pinpointing some vital clue that would lead to the truth of the matter. Always it eluded him, and again the finger would point at the beautiful girl with the long, curling hair.

He recalled how Aisling had sobbed out her innocence. He'd tried to believe her, wanted to. It was a conundrum that had eaten into him. The real truth of the matter had never come to light. Until now?

‘It was meself that gave the horse the stuff,' Murty said now.

Dominic, brought shockingly back to the present, waited for the man to continue.

‘Sure, now, I wasn't to know the trouble it'd get you into, Dom. All I can say is how sorry I am and that I'm prepared to come clean about what happened. Officially, you know? I've a letter drawn up. Well, these things can drag on and time's running out for me. It's all been legally done and witnessed. All you have to do is set the thing in motion.'

It was obvious that Murty was tiring. He left off stroking the dog to reach into his jacket pocket and withdraw an official-looking envelope. Without a word, Dominic took it from him.

‘Will you shake on it, Dom, lad?' Murty said humbly, extending a hand that had reined in some of the best thoroughbreds on the Irish racing scene. Dominic was aware of Aisling sitting tense and silent beside him, heard the faint exhalation of relief that passed her lips as he took the jockey's quivering, fleshless hand in his strong grip.

‘Thanks, Murty. I'll look into matter immediately.'

From the corner of his eye he saw the nurse bearing down upon them and stood up.

‘Are you ready, Aisling? Come, Trina. Cheers then, Murty. I'll be back.'

Outside once more in the sweet, damp air, Dominic stood a moment and waited for the world to stop reeling and rocking around him. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, leaving him with a curious feeling of lightness and optimism.

‘Poor old Murty,' he said abruptly.

Aisling nodded.

‘It was a shock when he got in touch with me. I nearly didn't follow it up but I'm certainly glad I did. And I was right to have brought you here. You'd never have believed any of it from my lips, would you?'

It was true. He couldn't have trusted her word. With Aisling, even the truth was questionable. Innocent, but with reservations. She'd always been fond of animals. He couldn't see her deliberately harming a horse. But then there was the money. And Aisling loved her little luxuries.

‘What now?' Aisling asked when he didn't speak.

‘Oh, I'll stay on here and get this thing sorted. Ring my boss and explain. Get an extension of leave.'

Ring Thea.

Dominic's heart warmed at the thought of her and he smiled suddenly, causing Aisling to slip a hopeful hand into his. Gently he disengaged it and, whistling up the dog, indicated that they move on to the waiting car.

Thea tucked her mobile back into the deep pocket of her coat and stood a moment in the open entrance to the ponies' field-shelter, contemplative. She had been tossing them some hay when it rang and had answered impatiently, biting her lip when Dominic's voice sounded in her ear.

He wanted her to join him in Ireland for the weekend as he had a matter of importance to discuss with her. She could get a flight to Dublin and he'd meet her at the airport, he said. Her heart had skipped a beat at the prospect, but caution prevailed and she didn't give an immediate answer.

She couldn't just drop everything and leave, she'd told him, hitting on the most plausible delaying tactic. What about the ponies? She'd have to ring him back.

It was a still night, no moon but the sky was bright with stars. Thea wondered, a trifle self-consciously, if Dominic was looking up at the same glimmering canopy and thinking of her.

And where in this uneasy scenario was Aisling Cleary?

‘I don't know, Dancer!' she murmured to her little mare who had left off munching the hay to put a questing muzzle in Thea's palm in the hope of titbits.

‘What can Dominic have to say that he can't tell me over the phone? Why doesn't he just come back here? Why all the mystery?'

At her voice, the rest of the ponies stopped feeding and threw up their heads, small ears pricking, wisps of hay hanging from their mouths. The big wooden structure of the field-shelter hammered suddenly to the thud of hooves as they came plodding up, pushing and nuzzling impatiently at Thea's pockets.

Thea dug out the mints they knew she had for them and shared them out, chuckling as the ponies crunched them up.

‘Gannets! Now get on with your supper. I'm going in.'

She checked that they had fresh water and went trudging back across the field, her booted feet squelching in the soggy ground. In the farmyard, Chas was hosing away the day's mud, so Thea took up the spare hose and helped finish off, her mind on Dominic and his unexpected phone call.

Mouth-watering smells met her in the kitchen, where Mae was
preparing for tomorrow's market. An additional order for fancy cakes meant that supper was delayed, and by the time Thea had helped wash up and gone over her lesson notes for the next day, it was well past her usual bedtime.

In bed at last, she lay wakeful, her thoughts still on Dominic. He had sounded different, not excited exactly, but with a positive note to his voice that was new.

Thea closed her eyes and slept, spinning headlong into her tangled world of dreams.

 

Harry Kendrick paused outside his stepmother's room. The door was ajar and there on the dressing-table her favourite diamond pin glinted in the mellow afternoon light. The room was empty. Harry cast a furtive glance up and down the corridor, and assured that no one was about, he seized his chance.

Slipping silently into the room, he picked up the pin and left, making a stealthy way up through the house to the nursery quarters. He had seen Polly leave earlier with the children on their daily walk.

Miss Hoity-toity!
He'd
show Polly Dakin what was what!

In the nursery, all was quiet. Opening the door of the room next to the children's where Polly slept, he looked around. The small bedchamber was clean and neat and smelled sweetly of the lavender cologne that Polly wore, and for a moment Harry faltered.

Polly had something, a quality that made her a cut above the other servants. He knew how well thought of she was by his father and stepmother, and realized how clever he'd have to be to convince them of her lack of trustworthiness.

Hardening his heart, he entered the room and concealed the diamond pin under the linen in the chest of drawers. Then he left, closing the door softly behind him.

That evening, Polly was sitting sewing by the nursery fire when there was a peremptory knock on the door and the housemaid entered. She looked agitated.

‘Such a hue and cry, Polly,' she said. ‘The mistress can't find her diamond pin anywhere. She wants to speak to you.'

‘Me? What for?'

‘I'm not sure. Maybe the mistress thinks you'll know where it could be.'

‘In the china dish on the dressing-table, most likely. That's where it gets left as a rule. I've told Madam to put it away safely in the jewellery box but she doesn't listen. Well, she wears it a lot so I suppose it's understandable.'

‘The master's there. Seems everyone on the staff is being questioned. Cook's in a right state over it, I can tell you. Leave that, Polly. Master says you're to come at once.'

‘Oh, very well.'

Heaving a sigh, Polly set aside the day gown she was making over for herself from one of her mistress's cast-offs and followed the girl out.

In Dorothea Kendrick's sitting-room, the master stood with his back to the window. His face was grave. Dorothea was seated on the day bed, her eyes swollen and red from weeping.

‘Come in, Polly,' she said, dabbing her cheek with an embroidered handkerchief. ‘Dear me, what a to-do!'

‘Close the door, Polly,' the master ordered. ‘Now then. You will know why you have been summoned here. Can you tell us precisely when you last saw your mistress's diamond pin?'

‘Why, yes, sir. I saw it this morning when I dressed Madam's hair. It was on the dressing-table dish with the roses round the rim. I mentioned to Madam that it would be better put away … sir.'

‘So you did, Polly.' Dorothea's voice broke. ‘Oh, how I wish I'd taken notice.'

‘It's sure to be here somewhere, ma'am,' Polly said comfortingly. ‘Maybe it's become caught up in a shawl and put away. Will I take a look for you?'