CHAPTER FOUR #2
‘Wait for me!’ she called, skirting around the mown circle of grass in the centre of the yard, but then she stopped and her eyes widened in surprise when she saw that upon it now stood a huge bronze statue of the stallion Polaris, whom Dennis had trained to win two British Classics.
She put her hand out to touch an intricately veined and flared nostril.
‘Wow … this is incredible, Cas. Who made it?’
‘Bumpa wanted to have it commissioned when Polaris won the Guineas and Derby that year but didn’t have the lolly to do it back then, if you remember.
He’s had such a good few seasons though, that he got Milo Laurenzo to make it for Gammy for Christmas.
Just what she wanted – not an Hermès handbag or a cashmere coat but a bloody great life-sized metal horse in the yard!
’ Casper laughed sardonically. ‘Poor Gammy, I think she’ll be relieved to have you home … she could do with a bit of TLC.’
‘Casper? Is that you?’ Dennis’s deep, authoritative, clipped voice called out from inside the office. ‘Come in.’
Casper inclined his head to one side, indicating for his sister to go in first, and opened the blue door for her.
‘Sage!’ Dennis put his pipe down on a clay ashtray with horses galloping around its edge, which Sage had made for him one Christmas when she was still at school.
‘You got here safely. I didn’t think you would be here until this afternoon, darling.
’ He got up stiffly from his chair, apologizing to the vet who was sitting opposite him, and doing up his tweed coat with one hand he reached for her with the other.
Sage flew into his arms, breathing in the familiar scent of tobacco smoke and extract of limes mingled with hay.
She hugged him tightly, happily pressing her face into the rough cloth.
‘Let me have a look at you, child.’ Dennis gently pushed her back so that he could see her properly.
Taking in the bruised eye, he swallowed hard and drew her back into another hug.
The thought of his precious granddaughter being hurt was like a physical punch to his stomach.
He felt winded with shock. He raged, silently, at himself for not stepping in sooner.
He had known that all was not well with Sage.
He cursed himself for not intervening. Gruffly, he said, ‘You’ll be all right now you’re home.
You’ll be all right now, Sage … Has your grandmother got Hal in the kitchen?
’ Sage nodded. ‘Good, good. She needs something other than the blasted dogs to love and care for in the house – might stop her buying more damned horses, the woman is out of control.’ He kept his arms around Sage, but turned to his grandson.
‘Casper, how are you? You’re not racing today?
’ Dennis reached out to shake his grandson’s hand, reluctantly letting go of Sage, and invited them both to sit down on wooden chairs next to Duncan. The vet stood up.
‘I think we’re all done here, sir. I’ll see you in the morning.’ With a respectful nod of his head to Dennis, he smiled at the others and left to gather his crew together before returning to the laboratory, where they would analyse samples taken from the horses that were due to run.
‘No, I’m not riding today, Bumpa, Sandown was abandoned this morning but I am hoping to be at Plumpton tomorrow,’ said Casper, sitting down. He looked suddenly wary. His brown eyes hopeful despite himself, he asked, ‘Have you heard from Dickie? I had a strange message from him yesterday.’
Dennis looked at him sharply.
‘No.’ He shifted in his chair and busied himself with his pipe. ‘I haven’t spoken to your father for a long time.’ He did not meet Casper’s eye.
‘What did he say, Cas? I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking properly when you told me about it earlier.’
Casper leant back in his chair, lighting a cigarette as he answered abruptly.
‘He just said he was wanting to get hold of me. It was weird. Why is he suddenly trying to get in touch? How does he even have my number? Bumpa, do you know?’
Dennis had had enough of this line of questioning though. He changed the subject dexterously.
‘How many rides have you got tomorrow, Casper?’
Casper laughed, knowing what his grandfather was doing but happy to take the bait. His racing was always topmost in his mind.
‘I’m up for all five tomorrow,’ Casper said with a steely edge. Riding for the championship was a grind but one he fully committed to.
‘I don’t think you should waste your time riding over sticks any more.
You have nothing to prove to anyone. You’ve won everything.
Come and ride for me – I need a stable jockey who can actually stay on.
Three of my damned lads fell off this morning.
It’s a bloody travesty. And I am not getting any younger. ’
‘Bumpa, I’m struggling to do the weight for tomorrow as it is … I need to make ten stone, and I’d be miserable making anything lighter. I am just too tall for your flat horses. Sage can work-ride for you though. She can stick to a racing saddle just as well as me.’
Sage bit her lip, keen but not wanting to humiliate herself. ‘Oh crumbs, I’m not so sure, Cas … I will be very rusty. I haven’t ridden for ages, not since Sir Crowley’s death.’
‘I was sorry to hear the old boy died, knew it must have been a blow for you too, darling.’ Dennis had known Sir Crowley who had been a neighbour to Sage in Panama and had also kept a few horses in training in England over the years.
Riding would be a very smart idea for Sage, he knew that she would not have forgotten how to ride in under a year.
‘Anyway, what rubbish. You’ve been riding my racehorses since you were seven.
The most natural seat that I’ve ever seen.
Horses have always liked you. You can ride out tomorrow morning, my girl.
It’ll do you the world of good. It’s a great idea. ’
The matter now closed, Dennis happily picked up his pipe and lit it again, puffing contentedly as he chalked up Sage’s name on the board behind him.
Sage’s alarm clock went off at a quarter to six the next morning.
She pushed the snooze button groggily. Jet lag and exhaustion had hit her like a train and as she lay there trying to clear the fog from her mind, she found herself questioning her inability to deny her grandfather anything.
She had never felt nervous about riding before but now, as a mother, she felt uneasy about getting back on.
Her own mother had died falling from a horse.
She could not bear the thought of doing that to Hal; her stomach plunged at the idea.
How she was going to get on a flighty racehorse in this state, she had no idea.
Heaving herself upright with a monumental effort, she leant over to turn on her bedside light.
The warm light calmed her. She reminded herself that her grandfather was right, she had always had a special affinity with horses, often finding them far easier to understand than people.
Looking around fondly, she found it comforting to be back in the sturdy oak bed in her old room, with the framed posters of Tintin, photographs of her on various ponies and an assortment of rosettes she had won at Pony Club still hanging from the picture rail.
Not one thing had been touched since she had moved out to go to university seven years ago.
She, however, had changed inside and out.
She got up slowly and wrapped herself in a thick dressing gown that was laid out on her trunk – which Casper had heaved upstairs and left at the foot of the bed – along with a pair of sheepskin slippers, into which she gratefully slid her cold feet.
It will be all right, she told herself, Bumpa will put me on something safe to start with.
Padding down the hall, she opened the door to Casper’s old room, which still had a little blackboard hanging on the handle decreeing KEEP OUT – CASPER’S ROOM in wobbly chalk handwriting.
Hal was sprawled out asleep, his arms flung up above his head with one hand clutching his muslin, his eyelashes spread out like starfish.
His white bed linen looked brand new and was adorned with scenes from the Wild West, with cowboys dotted amidst cacti and lasso ropes.
Gammy has been busy, Sage thought lovingly.
She dropped a featherlight kiss on Hal’s head and walked quickly back to her bedroom in order to get dressed.
She needed to get a move on now, or she would be late and Bumpa would be cross; he did not wait for anyone.
Her wardrobe was full of comfortingly familiar items and reminded her of a version of herself she hadn’t felt connected to for a long time.
Pulling on a pair of jeans over tights and two pairs of socks, with a thermal vest beneath one of her old polo necks, a thick jersey and a waistcoat, she rushed downstairs to find her riding boots, hat and gloves and an old Puffa coat, which were all still in a cupboard in the boot room.
She sped along the dark corridors and towards the kitchen, starting to overheat under all her layers in the warm room. Maggie was already standing sentinel at her post by the stove, pressing freshly kneaded bread dough into baking tins before sliding them into the oven.
‘Morning, Miss Sage, love – I’ll have breakfast ready for you after second lot. I’ll feed the little lad when he wakes up though. You go and enjoy yourself.’ Maggie turned around, pink-cheeked and wiping beads of perspiration off her forehead with a blue spotted handkerchief.
‘Thanks, Maggie, you’re an angel.’ Sage smiled nervously at her. If I make it back in one piece, she thought. ‘Do you know where Gammy is?’