‘Good idea, Dermot,’ replied Daniel and carried the wine and glasses to the table. Christie followed. ‘There you go, get this down you,’ he said softly, pouring generous measures. Hell, this pretty lady needed cheering up.
‘Thanks. Cheers.’ They clinked glasses. There was a moment’s pause, then Daniel was horrified to see a tear slip down Christie’s face. She quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand. ‘Sorry.’ She glanced at him, then looked away as if embarrassed. Daniel swallowed, then decided to take a leap of faith.
‘Christie, what’s troubling you?’ Daniel spoke gently, his beautiful blue eyes full of concern. Christie gulped back her wine. Why not offload? It might do her good to talk, really talk and open up. She had to a degree with Dermot, but had always restricted herself, taking care not to divulge too much. Well, she was sick of playing it careful; she was growing tired of having to put on a front, for staff, customers, and even herself. Who was she kidding? Admitting to herself how exhausted, both physically and emotionally, she actually was, Christie made the decision to spill – everything.
As Daniel sat and listened in silence, it proved cathartic for Christie to finally get everything off her chest. To let go. It was a release, and a long-awaited one that had been building momentum for weeks. After several more glasses of wine, she finished her story, leaving Daniel dumbfounded.
‘Sorry, was that information overload, Daniel?’
‘Of course not. I… I’m just speechless. Who in their right mind would treat a girl like you in that way?’ he asked incredulously. He truly was staggered at the man’s actions.
‘My husband apparently, especially if I can’t have children,’ she replied with a sad smile.
‘Then he’s a bloody fool, Christie,’ he said with force, ‘and so not worth your tears.’ He stared into her face and that same impulse to kiss her gripped him again. He sensed her reading his thoughts. She held his gaze. Was she inviting him? In a split second he took another leap of faith and leant forward to softly kiss her.
Christie’s chest was pounding. She felt her lips responded to his instinctively. That earthy smell of sage and the touch of his slight stubble intoxicated her. The kiss deepened, until they were both oblivious of their surroundings.
Luckily, being hidden in the discreet alcove meant that they were quite out of view of everyone except Dermot, who had seen them from across the bar and grinned. Good on ’em, he thought. They both deserved a break.
22
It was the day of the point-to-point and for Dylan it couldn’t come quick enough. Feeling so isolated from Flora was killing him. He longed to be able to get Phoenix’s race over, then he could give Josh his marching orders. Although, strangely enough, when he’d witnessed him and Flora together in the stable yard at work, he had only sensed a coolness between the two, which had him doubting what he had seen that day in the stables. No, he told himself, he’d definitely seen them in a clinch. Plus, Flora had been acting oddly too, kind of secretive; something had to be going on.
As for Flora, she was at breaking point. Her nerves were only just holding out regarding the race she had ahead of her. She yearned for Dylan’s reassurance to calm her, but that obviously had been ruled out, him being unaware of her deception. Guilt had started to set in too, not helping her unease. Had it all been worth it? And had Dylan sussed out something was afoot? Judging by his coldness she strongly suspected so, and was dreading the aftermath once he’d learnt of her dishonesty.
The Cotswold Races and Country Fair were set in the parkland on the banks of the River Severn and showcased the best of British amateur horseracing over the jumps, combined with rural crafts and an action-packed country fair. Along with eight competitive races, visitors also enjoyed a gun dog display, falconry display, hound parade, ferret racing, wood turning, face painting and a bouncy castle. A tented shopping pavilion housed various stalls, from local and artisan food and drink, to homemade crafts and clothing.
With exception to the first two races, this meeting was run entirely for veteran and novice riders. Phoenix had been entered for the third race, which was due to start at 3pm.
The Delany Racing Yard team had arrived early with Phoenix. Flora had made Josh take her riding kit in preparation and she planned to get to the weighing in room with the rest of the jockeys as soon as possible once she had arrived with Dylan. It was all going to be a little tricky, but she was determined to keep a cool head and do this. She had to ride Phoenix; nobody knew him like she did.
Accompanying Dylan and Flora, were Gary and Tracy Belcher. The Belchers had invested in Phoenix and together they had formed a partnership, calling themselves “The Last Laugh”. There was meaning behind the name, as the previous owner of Phoenix had callously written him off, after he had flogged the poor horse almost to death as a flat racer. In desperation he had ordered Dylan to train him into winning. Not having the gumption, or tolerance, to realise that the horse was a natural jumper meant that Graham Roper – a cruel ogre of a man – had lost patience and sold him on to Gary Belcher, not knowing that he formed half of the partnership with Dylan. Dylan had told Flora that Roper would rue the day he wrote Phoenix off and hence the name “The Last Laugh”.
Gary and Tracy were fairly new to Treweham village. They came from Lancashire and were true down-to-earth Northerners. A lottery win meant that Gary was able to pack in his job stacking fridges in Iceland and Tracy hers as a care assistant in a nursing home. Whilst Gary had adapted to the good country life, it had taken Tracy a little longer to become accustomed to the new privileged lifestyle she had been thrown into. Gary had excelled in the shooting club he had joined, the other members finding his Northern humour a breath of fresh air. As a result, the Belchers had never been short of dinner and party invitations.
They had been racing before with Dylan and Flora, which was when Dylan had approached Gary to join the partnership and buy Phoenix. Gary had welcomed the opportunity of owning a racehorse and he’d been looking forward immensely to seeing Phoenix race for the first time.
Once they all arrived, Dylan guided them to the marquee overlooking the course, which included the viewing area for the paddock where Phoenix would be. Dylan passed his binoculars to Gary and pointed the horse out.
‘Blimey, he looks in good shape,’ remarked Gary in awe. He still found it hard to believe he was the owner of a racehorse.
‘Yes, we’ve worked very hard on him, haven’t we?’ Dylan turned to Flora who was looking more agitated by the minute.
‘Err… yes. Dylan, I just need to check on something. I’ll be right back,’ and off she went.
‘But—’ Dylan was left in confusion and a sharp pain of dismissal stung him.
Flora pelted to the changing rooms where an even more anxious Josh stood waiting for her. He was clutching her kit and passed it her as soon as she approached him.
‘Quick,’ he hissed, ‘you’ve only just made it.’ Flora hurried as fast as she could to the changing room and scrambled into her silks. She then quickly joined the back of the queue where all the jockeys stood waiting to be weighed. Flora knew she would have to have weights inserted into her saddle, as she was well under the twelve-stone limit. She forced herself to take steady breaths and calm her nerves. Finally, the procedures had been followed and the jockeys were led to join their horses.