Giving Chase (A Racing Romance) (Aspen Valley Series #2) (8 page)

Vanessa looked overjoyed and confused at the same time.

‘Who’s given you a peace offering, darling? That certainly is wonderful!’

‘No! Peace Offering, the horse! The favourite!’

‘The favourite?’
Vanessa echoed in delight. ‘I’m so proud of you, Frankie! Come here and give me a hug!’

Frankie ran to her mother, receiving a half-rugby tackle. Finally extricating themselves, they turned to Doug, still sat stonily in his chair.

‘Doug, for goodness’ sake, congratulate her!’

Frankie laughed.

‘Don’t worry, Mum. He’s just in shock.
I’m
still in shock.’

Doug collected his senses and got to his feet. He held out his arms formally and Frankie fell into them.

‘Well done, Frankie. I just hope—I hope…’

So absorbed in the promises and opportunities the future now presented, Frankie didn’t register Doug’s fixed gaze on the mantelpiece photographs nor what he was trying, but failing, to say.

And none of them registered Mrs Banks stood at the foot of the stairs, her ear upturned to catch all the drama.

The following morning, Frankie was welcomed by a mist-cloaked Aspen Valley Stables. Security lights still glowed in the half-light and staff looked ghostly as they trundled wheelbarrows across the yard to muck out their stables. Frankie headed straight for the shed of barrows. She paused, however, as she neared the offices. Beyond the thick white walls she could hear the muffled tone of raised voices.

‘She’s just an amateur though!’
Rhys’s voice boomed through Jack’s office window loud and very clear.

Frankie wobbled to a stop. She pulled an uneasy face. That sounded ominous. She tip-toed on and let herself into the Reception. The sound of
Jack’s and Rhys’s voices were much clearer in here although still muffled. It sounded as if Jack had Rhys in a headlock. She looked questioningly at Kim, Aspen Valley’s frighteningly efficient racing secretary. Kim raised her eyebrows and lifted her palms in a
don’t-ask-me
gesture.

Frankie didn’t need to. Jack’s office door was wrenched open. Rhys strode out like a grumpy steam train. She could almost see the smoke huffing from his ears. A second later, his eyes lasered in on her. Frankie began to realise how a first-time matador must feel when faced
with an angry bull. She reckoned her red Aspen Valley jacket wasn’t helping matters. She took a step backwards. Rhys steamrolled towards her, looking murderous. He stopped a couple of paces away and held up a finger. His black eyes gleamed with rage, his nostrils were flared and his lips were white as he sucked them against his teeth.

Frankie
hadn’t ever seen anyone so angry. The contrast to the heart-stopping smile he’d given her yesterday was bewildering. Her mouth opened in a mute attempt to say something. It came out as a croak. What was she supposed to say?
Hi Rhys, good weekend? Looking a bit misty on the hills today. Please don’t kill me?
Whatever she’d done wrong, she was meant to already be aware of it and she had a strong suspicion Pippa’s phone call yesterday might have something to do with it.

The silence mounted as Rhys continued to hold that trembling finger to her face. His chest
rose and fell. He didn’t appear able to talk either.

The office telephone cut shrilly through the tense air. All three of them jumped. Rhys seemed to come out of whatever battle his emotions had been fighting before. A low growl
shook from his throat. Without saying anything, he brushed past a frozen Frankie and slammed the door behind him as he stormed outside. Once she and the furniture had stopped trembling, Kim’s polite and professional voice broke the quiet.

‘Good morning, Aspen Valley Stables.’

Frankie and Kim’s eyes met as the secretary held the phone against her ear without really listening to the caller.

‘I’m afraid Mr Carmichael
is in a meeting right now. Is it something I can help with?’

*

Frankie looked at Jack’s half-open door and took a deep breath. She gumshoed across the grey carpet and looked into the office. Jack was standing behind his desk with his back to her, looking out of the window. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets and his shoulders were rounded in a reef knot of tension. Frankie tapped on the door. He turned and, seeing who it was, strode towards her, pointing at her. Frankie was glad there was a desk between them.

‘You!
Just the person I was looking for!’

Sh
e swallowed as she ventured into the centre of the room. She’d only been in here twice before and it still felt a little overawing. The desk and surrounding furniture were of a dark heavy wood. Jack’s black leather chair lurked like a third presence in the room. Along one wall a wide display case flashed rows of gold, silver and bronze prizes. Judging by the size of the lock attached to it, Frankie felt she was punching way above her weight.

‘Is something the matter, Jack?’ she said, unable to keep the tremble out of her voice.

Jack stared at her.

‘The matter?
Yes! You could say that. Something is very
much
the matter!’ He swung round the side of the desk and snatched up a newspaper which had been lying folded in a wire tray. He held it up for her to read, giving it a shake for good measure. ‘
This
is what is the matter.’

The
Racing Post
newspaper looked battered, but as Frankie stepped forward to read it she noticed it was only today’s edition.  A photograph taking up a good portion of the front page showed her standing up in Dust Storm’s stirrups as she crossed Wincanton’s finish line. Her clutched whip was raised in a victory salute. Frankie cringed. She really needed to rethink the colour of her gum guard. That red and yellow one blaring from her hollering mouth just looked grotesque.

In the second that it took her to take this in, her focus travelled to the accompanying headline:

LADY AMATEUR TO RIDE GRAND NATIONAL FAVOURITE

Frankie’s heart sank. Something told her the right time
to tell Jack that Pippa had spoken of had certainly not yet arrived and that this headline was something of a shock for him. She briefly read the first paragraph.

Amateur jockey, Francesca Cooper, had good reason to celebrate
yesterday when winning the 2.10 at Wincanton. Despite Dust Storm being just her first winner for the Aspen Valley stable, a close friend to Ms. Cooper confirmed that she has been given the ride on next year’s Grand National favourite, Peace Offering (antepost 10/1). Cooper was said to be surprised and overjoyed at this opportunity to become the first lady jockey to win the 173-year-old steeplechase but was not available for comment…

Ohhhh
boy
. Frankie blinked at the paper, not quite ready to look up at Jack yet. So she’d guessed right about Rhys’s speechless fury. But how on earth had the papers got hold of it so quickly? Did Pippa have a unique sense of humour and this was her idea of a joke? Some people loved breaking dramatic news—

Frankie stopped dead in her miniature analysis of her boss’
s fiancée. She thought back to that whirlwind moment in her parents’ lounge and almost groaned aloud. In her mind’s eye, she saw Mrs Banks standing at the foot of the salon stairs, primly touching her new perm, deceptively uninterested. Frankie wanted to kick herself—and Mrs Banks. How could she have been so stupid? She might as well have gone straight to Twitter and saved Mrs Banks the bother.

‘Oh, dear,’ she said, finally looking up at Jack.

Jack looked at her wildly and shook the paper again to refocus her attention.

‘Oh, dear?
That’s all you have to say? What the hell are they talking about? Have they made it up or have you made it up? Because I certainly don’t recall telling you you could ride Peace Offering in the National.’

Frankie bit her lip. Her eyes flittered away from his. His voice
, lowered to a thicker, more cutting timbre, was just as terrifying as his shouting. Was she about to land Pippa in the dung heap by telling Jack the truth? Was she about to break up her boss’s loving relationship?

‘What are they talking about, Frankie?’ Jack’s voice shook.

‘Uh, well, you weren’t really meant to find out like this.’ She ventured a look at him and saw confusion. ‘I only found out about it yesterday, see, when I was visiting my parents. And it came as such a surprise when Pi– when I found out that I kind of got a bit excited and told my parents. Unfortunately, Valerie Banks was also in attendance.’

‘Valerie Banks?’ Jack looked at her, incredulous. ‘You
told this bullshit to Valerie “The Voice” Banks?’

Frankie filled her lungs with air and a healthy dose of courage. There was no way she could keep Pippa out of the firing line.

‘It’s not bullshit,’ she said quietly. ‘Pippa rang me after I won yesterday and offered me the ride.’

‘Pippa rang you?’ Jack echoed.
‘
My
Pippa?’ When Frankie nodded, Jack threaded his fingers through his hair. ‘What the hell did she think she was doing? And she offered you Peace Offering to ride in the National?’

Frankie nodded. Jack shook his head.

‘But
why
?’

Frankie’s pride took a sock to the right.

‘She said she thought I rode a good race yesterday and that she liked my attitude.’

Jack looked at her, helpless.

‘Pippa really went behind my back and did this?’

Her own
swirling emotions settled on pity for him. He looked confused, betrayed. This powerful man looked hurt. Frankie gave him her most reassuring smile.

‘She was going to tell you—
’

‘Well, she’d have to eventually, wouldn’t she?’ he said bitterly.

‘She was just waiting for the right time. Her call to me might have been done on the spur of the moment. She wasn’t keeping it from you purposefully.’

Jack stood with his hands on his hips, the newspaper still scrunched in one fist. He drew in a ragged breath.

‘Like hell she wasn’t.’ He snatched up his mobile from his desk and jabbed at the keypad.

‘Wait, Jack,’ Frankie said, reaching out her hands. She could see her boss’
s relationship swirling down the plughole. ‘Don’t do this. Look, I don’t have to take the ride—’

‘Shut up, Frankie. This is between me and Pippa,’
he growled, holding the phone to his ear.

The office was suddenly filled with Puccini’s
O Mio Babbino Caro
. They both looked up in surprise. Pippa stood at the door, holding up her offending mobile. Jack’s face turned an angry red. He slammed down the phone and Maria Callas’s melody was cut short.

‘What the hell is going on?’
he said striding over to her.

Pippa smiled apologetically at both of them.

‘Can I get you some chamomile tea, Jack?’ she said.

Jack, in the process of closing the door, slammed it instead. The display cabinet rattled.

‘Fuck’s sake, Pippa! Don’t patronise me!’ he shouted.

Frankie quailed and inadvertently took a step backwards. Pippa, on the other hand, seemed to rise to his challenge.

‘Then calm yourself down. We’re not going to discuss this with you roaring your head off.’

Jack gl
ared at Pippa, every muscle in his body straining.

Oh
God, shuddered Frankie. He’s going to break up with her and it’s going to be my fault. Then in wide-eyed fascination she watched Pippa’s handling of Jack’s temper. All she did was stand and wait, returning Jack’s glare but with a softer, more patient look.

*

At last Jack exhaled, the vein in his neck sunk back and his body visibly relaxed.

‘Thank you,’ Pippa whispered. She took Jack’s hand
in both of hers and kissed his palm.

‘Frankie, please can you give us a couple of minutes?’
Jack said.

‘Of course,’ Frankie said, already halfway to the door.

‘No. Wait,’ intervened Pippa. ‘Sorry, but I dragged Frankie into this. She should stay.’

‘Really, I
don’t mind waiting out—’ She hesitated at Pippa’s meaningful look. ‘Or I could just wait here.’

‘Let’s all sit down, shall we?’ Pippa suggested. She wheeled Jack’s chair from behind his desk and positioned it next to the two visitors’ chairs. Frankie
sat in the chair furthest away from Jack. The trainer remained standing.

‘Jack?’ Pippa prompted gently.

Jack swallowed and took his seat.

‘What are you doing here?’ Jack said. ‘How did you know I knew?’

‘I got a call from Emmie, who’d got a call from Billy. He’d seen the headlines and heard you shouting. Wasn’t what he was expecting on his first day back at work, I can tell you.’

Jack leaned his elbows on his thighs and looked at Pippa, bewildered.

‘Why did you keep this from me?’

‘Jack, I love you. And crazy as I might b
e, I love your temperament too—’

‘I’m not a fucking horse—
’

‘I know you can get very upse
t sometimes and I knew this—er…
piece of information
might upset you. So I was just trying to protect you.’

Jack looked at her in disbelief, his brow furrowed as he squinted at her.

‘Protect me? From who? You?’

Pippa looked guilty.

‘I guess so.’

‘Well, it’s madness. Frankie’s already said she isn’t going to take the ride.’

Frankie opened her mouth and shut it again.

‘I heard that,’ Pippa said drily. ‘She only said it because she thought you were about to kill me.’

Jack looked at Frankie, offended. Frankie shifted uneasily in her seat. She’d so much rather be shovelling horse shit right now.