Dream Valley (21 page)

'Oh, that's great. But Mam ... how did they all know she was goin' to win?'

'Sure I told them ... I knew you'd win, Garry ... didn't I say the Rosary every night for you.'

'Thanks, Mam ... keep up the good work.'

'When are you coming home, Garry? They all want to see you ... and to congratulate you.'

'Oh, I don't know. I'm very busy. Maybe after winning the big race in Punchestown. I'll bring the jockey along too.'

His winking at Jenny indicated he was only joking, but smiling, she nodded vigorously in assent.

'Oh, that would be great, Garry ... we'd love to meet her ... don't forget now ... she'd be more than welcome.'

'Right then, Mam, I'll let you go.'

'Garry, before you go.'

'What is it, Mam?

I want a big picture of 'to-day' to hang up in the bar ...
the biggest one you can get.'

'Okay Mam, I'll do that.'

'Good boy ... mind yourself now.'

'I will ... bye Mam.'

Jenny was fascinated. She heard every word - a lovely mother
and son relationship. Her love and admiration for Garry was growing and intensifying by the second.

They were now ready to go. After Jenny paid the bill, three happy people and a champion racehorse headed over the hills to Dream Valley.

Emily was dropped off on the way, and soon 'Harmonica' was snugly installed in her stable. They retired to the kitchen. Jenny felt a bit jaded. She didn't relish the long journey back to Dublin. It would be wonderful
to be able to stay the night and return in the morning. It was tempting but it would be a step too far, too dangerous to even contemplate.

They were alone together at last after an eventful week that
ended gloriously. It was time to celebrate. Garry turned to her, their smiling eyes met. A spine-tingling shudder gripped her. This was it, the moment she had been dreaming of, the moment that she had longed for all week and couldn't wait for. She took the initiative, wrapped her arms around his neck. Her heart was
racing, her legs felt weak. He responded with a passionate kiss, showing her how much he wanted her too. She now knew the journey they were about to travel - she wouldn't hold back - she couldn't - she had to have him. For a fleeting
moment Ken flashed across her mind, felt guilty. If he only knew. He didn't. He wouldn't. Anyway, she didn't care now. She was drowning in this wonderful sensation, savouring the sweet taste of this beautiful young man, her idol, her
hero. Soon they would be welded together, and then? She didn't know what would happen, and didn't care. She would let it happen, whatever it was.

Lifting her up, he carried her to the bedroom, laid her down
on the bed. He wasn't as boyish as she thought he might be - knew how to undress a woman. Naked and trembling feverishly, she undressed him. He was everything she had fantasised, a perfect young body, she couldn't wait. A wave of faintness swept through her, intensified as he explored her with hands, lips
and tongue from head to toes. She couldn't keep control any longer. Grabbing him, she rolled him on to her. With fountains of agonising ecstasy flooding her, arching, surging, moaning in a heavenly coupling of unspeakable pleasure,
they soon reached a glorious simultaneous climax. Their ravenous hunger for each other was relieved but not filled yet. They did it again and again before their appetites were satisfied, then they just lay there in contented, happy
exhaustion.

'What have we done? He whispered nervously.'

'Never mind, Darling. Whatever it was, it was magic.'

He smiled in agreement.

'Oh God, Garry, I'll have to go.'

'Yeah, what a shame.'

They kissed tenderly again, hugged tightly, dressed and soon she was on her way, a little weaker physically, but tons stronger in emotional contentment.

* * *

Jenny floated through the following week - felt on top of the world. In the office she had a new sparkle, a fresh bubbly enthusiasm, a new air of energy and well-being. Her closest colleagues could see the change clearly, but had no idea of its origin.

At home, things were never better. Ken was happy and contented. She appreciated his warm congratulations on her big win. The huge Tetredema Cup stood proudly on the sideboard. Despite all his misgivings, he
felt proud too. He could see and accept what a fantastic achievement it was, but he always knew that Jenny was a born winner - she was unique. That's why he was so protective of her. God, how relieved he was to see her come back safe and well, unscathed, intact. He wished the next race was behind her too. Then
he could relax, breathe a little easier, sort this whole thing out.

Jenny had other ideas. Her glorious encounter with Garry was only the beginning. She had tasted and savoured him. He had excited her in a
way she had never experienced before. She wanted more, much more, unlimited quantities of him. She could hardly wait 'till Saturday. With all her brains and intelligence she knew clearly how crazily dangerous this was - she couldn't
care less. That's what made it even more adventurous and exciting. The exquisite pleasure of mixing Garry's brilliant bed-riding skills, with the breathtaking thrills of race-riding amounted to a potent cocktail that any
woman in her health would get addicted to. It was a drug that once consumed, demanded to be repeated again and again, rendering her resistance totally and absolutely ineffective.

There was no turning back now, for four consecutive
Saturdays, the old bed rattled and strained, barely surviving the onslaught. It was breathtaking teamwork from two supremely fit, energetic and passionate lovers. Ravenous and hungry for each other, three, and sometimes four sumptuous
dual orgasms were required to satisfy their appetites. Taking turns to lead and be lead, to ride and be ridden, it was pure ecstasy, heavenly bliss.

Midweek at home Jenny would try to keep Ken happy, just
about managing enough energy to satisfy his now fairly moderate sexual requirements. Tiredness was her excuse for celibacy at the weekends - he understood. That long energy-sapping journey, that adrenaline charged horse-riding, and all after a hard week at the office, was bound to take its
toll. Midweek was fine - he appreciated it, took her gently.

* * *

Fatal Slip

It was the Saturday before Punchestown, one of the biggest racing festival in Europe. Garry, Jenny and 'Harmonica' were ready. The
preparations had gone well. The Champion Hunter Steeplechase was the target. It was an ambitious assignment, some experts said it was too ambitious. Garry or Jenny didn't entertain such negative thoughts.

They rode together up Mount Brandon in the last serious
gallop before the big race. 'Harmonica' was breathtaking. Effortlessly powering up the punishing incline, leaving Garry and 'Spinning Top' struggling in their wake.

'That'll do,' said Garry, in his customary understatement as
they pulled up and hacked home to the stables. It was a relaxing stroll back. They chatted as they went, carefully planning their strategy for the race on Thursday. Every detail had to be worked out, every potential danger averted,
every smart move by the opposition covered and countered, a contingency plan for every eventuality.

Nothing was left to chance. The mare was good enough. With average luck, in a true run race, she would win. Garry was in no doubt - Jenny
agreed. The weather was now the big worry. Dark clouds were already hovering overhead, the birds had gone silent, the darkness over Dream Valley had changed its beautiful landscape from rich colour to a gloomy grey. The forecast was for snow, plenty of it, followed by severe frost. It spelled disaster for Punchestown
if it proved correct. They prayed that the weather experts had got it wrong, or if correct, that a thaw would follow quickly and allow racing to go on. There was still five days to go and the weather could change a lot in that time.
Anyway, they could do nothing about it, only wait anxiously and hope for the best.

Back in the house, they studied the 'Racing Post', drank coffee and made love. It was becoming almost a routine now, a beautiful ritual
that just had to be done, an expression of their passionate love, a weekly trip to Paradise.

On her journey back to Dublin, having travelled about fifty miles, Jenny encountered the first snow. Gently falling in large flakes at
first, like feathers in a breeze, it soon got thicker, heavier, almost clogging the windscreen wipers, obscuring the road markings. Driving conditions seemed to deteriorate the closer she came to Dublin. The last few miles were
treacherous, with the speedometer not rising above fifteen miles an hour, and visibility almost non-existent. All her driving skills were tested - she got there, but it was close. She was lucky, she thought, to have left Dream Valley
so early, or she'd be stranded there for the weekend. On reflection, she felt unlucky. What a weekend they could have had. The snow would make it even more romantic - would provide the perfect excuse for Ken too.

Waking up on Sunday morning, Jenny knew by the extra brightness of the bedroom that her fears were justified. Snow! She stepped out of bed and across to the window. Not as bad as she had feared. The lawns had about six inches of it, soft and smooth like a quilted eiderdown. The trees at
each side looked all dressed up in white, and the birds seemed mystified, not sure where to fly or land. In a strange way she enjoyed the peaceful scene, appreciated the solitude and tranquillity, realised it was another example of
the beauty and diversity of nature.

Ken had been late home. She left him sleep on. Down in the kitchen she finished her coffee and toast, jotted down a list of items for her trip to the supermarket. She'd be back before he got up - have a good breakfast
ready for him. Wondering if the car would travel on the snow, she checked the tarmac drive from the front door. It had just a light covering, the road would have even less, early morning traffic would have cleared it - the half mile to
the shop would be no problem. She headed out the back door towards her car at the side of the house. About to step in, she heard the phone in the kitchen ringing. She paused, listened. Four rings and stopped. What a time to be
ringing, she thought. Sitting in the drivers seat, about to start up, it rang again.
Shit! Better see who it is.
She jumped out, ran towards the back door. The smooth concrete was snow-covered, but wet and slippery underneath. As she braked her run for the door her feet skidded in opposite directions. She
desperately tried to recover her balance but couldn't. Hitting the slimy concrete with a heavy thud, she immediately realised she had done damage. A searing pain pierced through her right ankle, then a roasting heat, followed by
a total numbness. She tried to get up, but couldn't, feeling shocked and angry for her silly mistake.

She heard Ken in the kitchen. He had come down to answer the phone. She could hear his side of the conversation - some golf outing postponed
because of the weather.

The irony of it dug deep into her. What a silly bastard ringing at this time of the morning for a trivial thing like that. Anger and exasperation was really bubbling up in her now. If that shit only knew what he
has done. Again she tried to get up - failed. The slush was now seeping through her jeans. She called Ken. He didn't hear her. She called again louder, and again in a near scream. He opened the door, in his pyjamas.

'Jesus Jenny! What happened? Are you alright? Christ! Did you fall? Are you hurt?'

Lifting her up, he carried her in, laid her on the sofa in the living room.

'It's this ankle Ken, everything else is okay.'

He checked, slowly removing the shoe - it was starting to swell up.

'Can you feel that?' He was pressing with his thumbs.

'No.'

The look on his face said it all.

In the Belmont Clinic, the Xrays showed there were no breaks or fractures, but a severe sprain and bruising - Jenny was relieved.

'How long will it take?' she asked the Orthopaedic
Consultant.

'In about three weeks you should be fine again.'

Rubbish, thought Jenny. Three days - that's the target. She would move mountains to be right for Punchestown on Thursday. A little ankle
sprain wouldn't stop her.

Back in the house with a tightly bandaged ankle and two crutches to get used to, she tried to avoid feeling sorry for herself. She rang a physiotherapist, arranged a visit for Monday, booked three sessions. The
local riding school confirmed a ride for Wednesday evening to test the ankle. She was sure it would be fine by then.

She phoned Garry. He was really shocked, frustrated that he couldn't help her in any way. A hundred miles divided them. He would love to
travel up to see her. She needed comforting now. He couldn't - felt helpless.

'Is it very painful? Can you walk?'

Jenny made light of it.

'It'll be fine by mid-week.'

He wasn't so sure. Yes, she was always positive, could arrange almost anything - but a sprained ankle? He knew all about it, happened to him twice - usually slow to heal, needed time. It might feel okay on the
ground, but up in the stirrup it was different. The weight and constant movement would test it. If it wasn't right, you wouldn't ride for more than five minutes - the pain would be too severe. He didn't want to discourage her, but to prepare her for the worst, just in case. She saw the sense in that.

'Right then, Garry, let's consider plan B. If I can't ride on Thursday ... would you ride 'Harmonica?'

That really stunned him. It was now a crisis - he had to
think fast.

'Oh, I don't know, Jenny ... I hadn't thought about that at all ... for now let's believe that you'll be able to ride her.'

'Yes, I know, but just in case I can't ... would you then
ride her?'

'Well,' he hesitated, 'I do still have my riding licence ... that wouldn't be a problem, but ...' he paused again, 'I haven't ridden in a race for years.'

'But you're fit, Garry. You're riding 'Harmonica' every day.
You know her as well as I do. There wouldn't be much of a difference.'

'Yeah, I suppose you're right ... trouble is ... I'd have to loose about half a stone weight by Thursday.'

'That wouldn't be a problem, would it?'

'No, it wouldn't Jenny ... I'd probably loose it worrying.'

'If I were down there, I'd help you loose it.'

'I know you would.' They laughed.

'Anyway, Garry, thanks for agreeing. That's not saying now
that you're going to get the chance ... I intend to be fit ... it's just in case anything goes wrong.'

'Right Jenny ... that's a deal then.'

Ken had mixed feelings about Jenny's predicament. He felt genuinely sorry for her. To see her injured in any way always hurt him too. He couldn't help feeling that this time it could be a blessing in disguise. Looking at her hobbling around the kitchen, suppressing the pain and discomfort,
ignoring the medical advice to sit and keep the leg raised up, he could see she was determined to fight it, beat it by Thursday. He knew better, saw it many times before. You can't force your body to heal. You can foolishly try, but it
will only react stubbornly. Like a game of 'Snakes and Ladders' you'd soon be back down at the first rung again. He was only too aware of Jenny's fighting instincts - she will fight it. He suspected she might loose this battle - deep
down he hoped she would.

The first visit to the physiotherapist went well. Wendy Curry was the best in town, but she couldn't do a lot, the ankle was still swollen. She helped her other leg muscles though, keeping them toned and
supple. The pain was receding, was much better now. Three days to go, Jenny felt she was bang on target - winning the battle - it was mind over matter. She always trusted her enormous will power - it never failed her - it wouldn't now
either. She phoned Garry.

'I'm half-way there, Garry.'

'Great ... does that mean that I can start eating again?'

'No, it doesn't ... half a stone less will crown you anyway
... I just did this to slim you down.'

They laughed. He was delighted and relieved that he mightn't have to ride in the race after all. It was the last thing he wanted to do. He was a trainer now - wanted to concentrate on that. He couldn't believe Jenny's
quick recovery. It would be a miracle if she made it. He hoped she wasn't bluffing - it would be suicide to ride with an injury. He would have to be one hundred per cent sure of her fitness before he would let her ride in that race
- it would be just too dangerous.

Jenny's optimism and confidence suffered a set-back on Tuesday, and ironically, it wasn't because of her ankle. That had improved greatly. Wendy was really surprised at the movement and flexibility, without
the earlier severe pain. She could now discard the crutches and walk with aid of a stick - some improvement in only two days.

While she was really pleased with the ankle's progress,
Jenny was now more concerned with the rest of her body. She felt unwell, nauseous, weak and drained. She tried to analyse the cause - probably delayed shock from the injury and the absence of proper food since Saturday. She could only pick at the odd snack - had no appetite for a proper meal. The last couple
of days were probably taking a lot more out of her than she realised.

Leaving the physiotherapist's, she almost fainted, but recovered quickly when out in the fresh air.

'Are you sure you're alright, Jenny?'

Wendy saw her stagger, noticed her pale face and sweaty forehead.

'I'm fine now, thank you,' her taxi was waiting, 'be grand when I get home.'

She wasn't. Ken was working and wouldn't be home 'till late. She climbed the stairs with great difficulty, not from the ankle, but general weakness all over. She lay over the bedclothes for a while, sipped a glass of water, undressed and got in.

She felt only slightly better in the morning. Ken was leaving early for the Clinic. Showing him the ankle, she didn't dare mention her other problem. He agreed it had made remarkable progress, but he was concerned that the crutches were gone.

'Don't overdo it, Jenny ... you could be back to square one ... then you would be really upset ... and I don't want to see my little darling upset.'

He kissed her.

'Ah, you're so kind ... come here.'

Pulling him closer, she kissed and hugged him tenderly.

'Got to go, Love. For God's sake mind yourself, Jenny. You really don't look great. Are you sure you're okay? You know your health is more
important than anything else.'

'I know Ken ... I'll take care ... I'll be fine.'

She rang Garry.

'I'm getting there, Garry ... how's 'Harmonica'?

'Oh great ... rearing to go.'

'How's the weight?'

'Two pounds more to go ... getting there.'

'Good for you.'

'Jenny?' He hesitated.

'Yes Garry?'

'Do you really think you'll be able to make it? It's to-morrow you know ... only twenty-four hours away.'

He was serious now. It really was decision time - he had to
know.

'Garry, I'll ring you this evening about five ... I'll decide then, yes or no ... if all goes well ... hopefully it will be yes.'

That, to his ears sounded like an unusual lack of confidence. She seemed strangely unsure, almost pessimistic, lacking that
steely determination and cheerful optimism. He was really concerned now. That would be no way to ride in a big race. Your state of mind was every bit as vital as your body fitness - both would need to be perfect. Jenny sounded as if
she was a long way from that. Maybe to-morrow she'll be okay - he now had grave doubts.

Wendy was amazed with the ankle. It was taking the weight, flexing perfectly, no pain, no swelling. It was a miracle.

'It's amazing,' she marvelled, 'when you're physically fit, how you can make things happen ... this is a record recovery.'

'It's yourself, Wendy. You didn't get to be the best
physiotherapist in the city by accident.'