Reckless Runaway at the Racecourse (11 page)

     ‘These are the ones you can pick from,’ he told Fliss, pointing to the names he’d marked in his race card. ‘The grey on the far side of the paddock. The chestnut coming towards us now and the bay behind him.’

     She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘But I like this one.’ She nodded to the horse just in front of them. ‘White Hart. Look at the pretty purple ribbon plaited into his mane to match his jockey.’

     Luke rolled his eyes. ‘Not a chance. Look, he’s come nowhere in his last three races.’

     ‘And before that?’

     ‘Pulled up.’

     ‘Oh.’

     ‘We’re putting two hundred and fifty pounds on this race, remember. Let’s try not to waste it completely.’

     ‘Fine. What do you think of this one, then?’ Fliss was looking at the bay, Dancing Queen.

‘She’s got a decent chance. She was second last time out on heavier ground than this and the weight’s in her favour.’

     Fliss smiled at him. ‘That’s what your head says. What about your heart?’

     ‘I’ve tol       d you before. This is my job. Emotion doesn’t come into it.’

     She sighed. ‘Cold heart, warm hands.’

     ‘I think we’re done here. Let’s go and find a decent price.’

     ‘Fine, but this time I’m coming with you to make sure there’s no funny business.’

     He leaned down to kiss her briefly. ‘I’m sorry about before. I thought you’d be pleased to have won something.’

     ‘Forgiven. But don’t do it again.’

     ‘Lesson learned. In fact…’ He pulled the roll of notes out of his pocket. ‘You make the bet, this time.’

     They wandered up and down the rows of bookmakers. Fliss was fascinated by the complex system of gestures that they used to keep track of all the fluctuating odds. Luke pointed out the men standing on boxes over by the rail, watching their competitors boards and communicating back to their own boss with a kind of semaphore called tic-tac.

     Fliss made the bet, careful to specify that it was win only, and tucked the ticket into her bag.

     ‘Let’s go down to the finish post and watch it there,’ Luke suggested.

     ‘What, you mean cross the track?’ Fliss teased. ‘Is that allowed?’

     ‘I’ll carry you over my shoulder, if you like.’

     They ducked under the rails and ran across the grass hand in hand. Then they squeezed into the small crowd which had gathered by the post. They couldn’t really see the starting stalls and Fliss could tell it would be impossible to know how the race was going when they were watching virtually head on. It would be even more difficult if Luke kept his tongue swirling around her ear and ducking down to kiss her throat.

     ‘Are you trying to distract me?’ she breathed.

     ‘Mmmhmm. Is it working?’

     Fliss gasped. ‘I… Yes, I’d… say so. Do that again.’

     He obliged, letting his hand rest on the rails in front of her and pressing his body firmly against her. ‘Tonight,’ he murmured, ‘I’m going to distract you so much you won’t even remember your own name.’

     ‘Oh…’ Fliss squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her legs together. ‘Luke…’

     He pulled away suddenly, leaving her whimpering. ‘The race has started, sweetheart. Look.’

     The horses were galloping towards them, still tiny, over a mile away. Fliss took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the announcer’s voice telling them what was happening.

     ‘And it’s Dancing Queen, Dancing Queen as they come towards the two-furlong marker…’

     Fliss was screaming. Behind her Luke was yelling and cheering.

     ‘Dancing Queen who’s made the running all the way, being challenged now by Fling A Ling…’

     She redoubled her efforts as if somehow her screams could carry her horse over the line.

     ‘And at the line, it’s Dancing Queen, from Fling A Ling…’

     Fliss threw herself into Luke’s waiting arms. ‘We did it! We did it!’

     He kissed her then, wild and exuberant and hard and passionate. ‘We did indeed.’

     They shared the winnings equally.

     ‘But I’m taking you out to dinner tonight and there is no way I’m letting you pay half,’ he warned solemnly. ‘Not because I happen to have more money in my bank account than you, but because I’m a gentleman and I always pay for the lady. Got it?’

     ‘Got it. Reactionary chauvinist.’

     Luke gave her a look but didn’t rise to the bait, and secretly Fliss was rather glad. It made a change to go out with a man who liked to look after her.

     Dinner was fabulous. Luke took her to a tiny restaurant where there were no menus. They simply sat at one of the few tables in the small front room and ate whatever the waiter brought out to them. He ordered a bottle of rich, deep claret, though he refused to drink more than a glass since he had to drive them home. Fliss savoured every drop of the exquisite wine with the decadent food.

By the time dessert was cleared away and the last, delicious, savoury had been served, she was all but asleep.

     ‘Sorry,’ she muttered, as Luke led her to the car. ‘Early start this morning.’

     He chuckled and helped her into the passenger seat. ‘Sleep, if you like. It’ll be nearly an hour before we’re home.’

     Home. Fliss smiled at the thought and drifted off.

     She woke in Luke’s arms as he carried her up to his bedroom. ‘Feeling better, sleepyhead?’

     ‘Mmmm.’

     ‘Glass of water? Coffee? Or straight back to sleep?’

     Sleep was incredibly tempting. But… ‘Are you chicken?’

     Luke raised an eyebrow questioningly.

     ‘I thought you promised to make me forget my own name tonight.’

     ‘Ah, that.’

     Fliss smiled lazily up at him. ‘Unless you’re worried you’re not up to it?’

     ‘Oh, I’m up to it.’ His eyes darkened purposefully and Fliss held her breath, wondering where his onslaught would begin.

Chapter Six

     ‘Can you call the vet for me? Now.’

     Fliss already had her hand on the phone. ‘What’s happened?’

     Luke ran a hand over his face. ‘Chrysanthemum has stopped eating.’

     She nodded, already putting the call through while she carried on listening. ‘I’ll get him here as soon as possible. You go back to the stables.’

     Luke turned on his heel, gone almost before Fliss had finished speaking. She spoke to the receptionist at the vet, doing her best to convey the urgency of the situation. This wasn’t just any horse. This was
the
horse. The Derby horse. Fliss wasn’t knowledgeable enough yet to be able to guess at the potential problems but Luke’s face had been enough evidence for her to know that this was serious.

     The receptionist put her through to Charlie Hawes, the same vet who had so kindly seen to Marshmallow.

     ‘I’ll be there in under an hour,’ he told her. ‘Tell Luke not to panic. If the horse hasn’t drunk anything, a wet sponge around his mouth will help.’

     ‘Okay, I’ll tell him. Thanks.’

     Fliss grabbed her jacket and ran down to the yard. Mike, the head lad, and two other stable lads were walking Chrysanthemum slowly around the yard while Luke watched through narrowed eyes.

     ‘He’s coming,’ she said. ‘He said that you could put a wet sponge round Chrysanthemum’s mouth if he hasn’t drunk anything.’

     Luke nodded without turning his head to look at her. ‘How soon can he get here?’

     ‘An hour.’

     His lips tightened. ‘Fine. Bring him over to the stable, Mike. It doesn’t look like colic to           

me.’

     They brought him in and settled him in his box. Luke produced a slice of apple but Chrysanthemum turned his head away in disinterest.

     ‘Can I try him with a mint?’ asked Fliss.

     Luke shrugged. ‘Can’t do any harm.’

     She pulled out the half-empty packet that she always carried around with her and extracted a couple to lie on her palm. Fliss patted Chrysanthemum’s neck and stroked his nose, murmuring  nonsensical endearments as she did. Then she offered the mints. He sniffed first and for a moment, she thought he was going to refuse. But his long, rough tongue came out and licked.

     Fliss grinned and leaned up to plant a kiss on the horse’s nose. ‘Good boy,’ she told him. ‘You’re going to be all right, aren’t you?’

     Gently, she began to stroke his mane. A sudden tremor ran through the stallion. Fliss repeated her action.

     ‘Luke.’ She kept running her hand over the horse’s neck. ‘Come and look at this.’

     He came to stand beside her and placed his hand where she indicated.

     ‘It might not be anything,’ she warned. ‘I don’t really know what I’m doing.’

     Luke ran his hand gently over the lump Fliss had found. Each time he touched it, however lightly, Chrysanthemum flinched. ‘Infected cyst,’ he guessed. ‘Good call.’

     ‘Will he be all right?’

     Bright blue eyes smiled warmly down at her. ‘Almost certainly. Charlie can whip this out, stitch him up, and stick him with antibiotics. Should be back to normal tomorrow.’

     Fliss grinned back at him. ‘That’s wonderful.’

     ‘You’re wonderful.’ He bent and kissed her. Only briefly, but it was the first time he had shown her any affection in front of his staff. Someone let out a wolf whistle. Fliss made a sharp hand gesture behind her back in the general direction of the offender.

     Half an hour later, Charlie’s jeep rolled up. He examined the horse closely, gentling him when he reached the cyst. ‘Yes, I see it. Well spotted, Luke. This one would be easy to miss, right up against his mane.’

     ‘Fliss found it.’

     The vet gave her a look and nodded. ‘Well spotted, Fliss. Do you want to come and hold him for me?’

     She glanced at Luke who gestured for her to take the bridle.

     ‘Just keep him calm,’ Charlie instructed. ‘Stroke him, talk to him, whatever works for you.’

     Fliss stood with Chrysanthemum while the vet worked swiftly on the other side of his neck. Sooner than she expected, he stood back and announced that he was done.

     ‘I’ll fetch the antibiotics. I’ll inject him now and leave you with instructions for the next three days.’

     ‘You do the rest of the injections?’ Fliss checked with Luke.

     ‘It’s cheaper than getting the vet out every time,’ Luke explained. ‘And it’s not that hard.’

     ‘Show me?’

     He grimaced. ‘I would. But…’

     ‘Not on Chrysanthemum three weeks before the Derby.’

     ‘Exactly.’

     ‘That’s fine. Is there anything else I can do to help?’

     ‘You’ve done enough. Why don’t you head back to the office now? Have a cup of tea and a slice of whatever Mrs Ricks has made today.’

     ‘Are you coming?’

     ‘In a bit. I’ll wait for Charlie to finish up.’

     Fliss came out of Chrysanthemum’s stall but she didn’t return to the house. She leaned against the corner of the building and waited for Luke and Charlie to finish. There were lengthy instructions for the stable lads about feeding and watering schedules, and for Luke about the course of injections. Chrysanthemum’s temperature would need to be checked and recorded even more regularly than usual. Finally Luke asked about training.

     ‘Walk him around a couple of times this afternoon. Tomorrow, you can put him through the exercise pool for half an hour or so. After that, he should be recovered enough to get gradually back into training. He won’t have had time to lose much form.’

     ‘No.’ Fliss could see the concern clouding Luke’s eyes and knew exactly what he was thinking. Even an inch or two could be the difference between a Derby winner and an also-ran.

     ‘He’ll be okay.’ Fliss joined Luke after Charlie had driven off and slipped her hand into his.

     He pulled her against him and slid his arms around her waist. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. She knew just how mixed up all his emotions were: relief, worry, fear, gratitude. So much for the cold, business-like façade he’d claimed.

     Eventually Luke pulled away. ‘I’ll have to phone the Zhaos. Let them know what’s happened.’

     ‘Invite them to come and see him. On Friday, maybe? That’ll reassure them it’s not serious.’

     He shook his head. ‘I haven’t got time to deal with an owner’s visit on top of everything.’

     ‘I’ll deal with them. You’ll only need to give them half an hour down at the stables.’

     ‘You were great, by the way,’ Luke said later, when they were sitting at the kitchen table with tea and carrot cake.

     ‘I didn’t do much. Charlie would have found the cyst.’