At Long Odds (A Racing Romance) (28 page)

‘We hope so. A lot can happen in a couple of weeks though,’ Ginny replied, thinking of Mark.

*

As complete darkness stole over the cool evening, the atmosphere of the party warmed up and the DJ in the marquee was kept busy with requests. Ginny had seen more people that she knew than she’d at first predicted, and only on a couple of occasions had she needed to make a quick exit when Julien appeared.

Taking a respite from the festivities, Ginny slipped out the back of the marquee where she was faced with the soothing sight of a fabulous garden, decorated with copses of trees and long exotic-looking plants. In a smaller garden it would just be a suffocating busy space, but here, the lawn, with its undulations and rockeries, was perfect for the rich abundance of foliage. Sliding out of her heels, she let the dewy moistness of the grass ease the aches and pains of standing on her feet all day. She swung her shoes in one hand, holding her glass of wine in the other and, following the glow lamps which lit the way, wandered away from the hullabaloo. She stopped at a pond, hidden by large butterfly bush from the house and dipped a toe in the water, making the moon’s reflection ripple.

‘Hello there, Ginny.’

Ginny gave a gasp and spun round in alarm, dropping her half-drunk glass into the water. Mark Rushin stood only a few feet away from her.

‘What are you doing here?’ she said, trembling.

‘Security’s not quite up to scratch,’ he smiled. The night cast sinister shadows across his face. ‘No surprise to see you here though. Trying to drum up a bit of business, are you? Did you tell them what high maintenance you are?’

The mention of lax security made Ginny feel even more vulnerable, but for a moment his insults leant her courage.

‘High maintenance? You didn’t maintain anything except your own corrupt hide!’ she retorted.

‘You’ve been busy though, haven’t you?’ he said, stepping closer.

The smell of alcohol-tainted breath drifted over to her and Ginny wondered if maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. If he was drunk, he could do anything to her and she didn’t fancy being drowned in a garden pond.

‘Why are you here?’ she said in a small voice. ‘You were arrested.’

‘I’ve been released on bail. Unlucky for you, isn’t it?’

‘Mark! I didn’t go to the police!’ Ginny insisted with wide desperate eyes.

‘Well, who did you tell?’ Mark’s voice rose in anger.

‘No one, I promise. Look, it wasn’t me who went to them.’ She stepped back and felt the stone border of the pond rub cold against her heel. Mark sneered.

‘I don’t believe you, Ginny. After all the help and support I tried to give you, you just threw it back in my face. And even when I sent you reminders, you still didn’t take any notice –’

A rustling of leaves and heavy determined footsteps cut short his speech, and before either of them knew what was happening, Julien appeared from the main pathway. He strode up to Mark, took one effortless swing and thumped him hard on the nose. The crunching sound made Ginny wince. She looked in horror, from Julien, whose face looked thunderous, to Mark, who was streaming blood onto his white shirt.

‘You bastard,’ Mark said, tenderly touching his nose. ‘You’ve broken my nose, you –’

‘I don’t want you talking to Ginny like that again,’ Julien hissed, leaning forward and holding out a threatening finger. ‘If I hear about you blackmailing and threatening her again, I will make you very sorry, Rushin.
Very
sorry.’

‘Wha-?Julien?’ Ginny began, dismay overwhelming her. ‘What have you done
now
?’

‘Come on, I’m taking you home.’ Gripping her arm, he steered her out of the shrubbery, leaving a surprised-looking Mark Rushin nursing his nose.

*

Unable to make a scene in front of so many guests, Ginny thought Julien was taking no chances by guiding her, a bit roughly for comfort, round the back of the marquee and the unlit side of the house towards the car park.

‘Ow, Julien. You’re hurting me! Let me go!’

He stopped and she wrenched herself free. She rubbed her finger-imprinted bare arm and glared at him. Julien glared back, his furious face swathed in shadows.

‘Why have you been ignoring me?’ he said, equally angry.

‘Because!’ Ginny cried, tears imminent. ‘Because you promised you wouldn’t tell anyone, but you did! You promised, and you lied, just like Mark did!’

Julien looked bewildered.

‘I what? I’m nothing like Mark Rushin! I didn’t say anything to anybody!’

‘You must have! Nobody else knows apart from you! And now look what you’ve done! You’ve made it even worse by breaking his nose. I’m sure you meant to rescue me, but I don’t need rescuing!’

‘I didn’t tell anyone,’ Julien repeated with vehemence.

‘Well, I didn’t, so that only leaves you. If you were doing it to help, I don’t know, Julien! But I don’t want your help! I don’t
need
your help! Now, just leave me alone.’

‘Ginny –’

He held out his hand to stop her, but the touch of his skin upon hers was too much, and Ginny raised her palm and slapped him hard on the cheek. Julien flinched, then looked at her levelly. His brown eyes darkened and a grim line formed where his curving lips had once been.

‘I’m going home. Just leave me…’ Ginny couldn’t finish. With a muffled sob, she hurried down to the driveway where a number of taxis were already waiting for their inebriated customers. She couldn’t look back at Julien. She couldn’t bear to look at his face and see what was written there. She didn’t want to fight anymore, but sometimes it just seemed he gave her no choice.

Chapter Thirty

Monday morning dawned grey and muggy, with the threat of rain in the air and in the heavy clouds above Newmarket. The call Ginny had been expecting came through at lunchtime. It was the police and they asked her if she would come down to the station to answer a few questions. Up until now she was still undecided as to how much she should reveal about Mark, but then again, the damage was already done. If she told the truth, including the threats, he might be put away for definite. Pulling up outside the station, she decided to go with the truth, it was the easiest thing to do, and she wasn’t particularly good at lying.

In between sips of the lukewarm coffee provided, she retold the story of her involvement with Mark Rushin. The officer who was covering the case, asked the odd question, asking her to clarify certain circumstances.

At the end of it, Ginny felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Now that the police knew, they would make it all better.

‘Now that I’ve told you everything, what will happen now? I mean the reason I didn’t come forward before was because of the threats against Ravenhill. How can you be sure he’s not going to do it again?’

‘We’ll get a court order that rules he isn’t to come within a certain distance of you or your horses, or your place of work. With this evidence he’ll probably get a jail sentence for blackmail as well as corruption. The fraud case will take forever, and probably won’t even get to the Old Bailey before the New Year but he’ll be warned off from any racecourses. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Miss Kennedy.’

The officer stood up and held out his hand for Ginny to take, signalling the end of their interview. Ginny followed suit and smiled, relieved that this nightmare might now be over. But like an annoying fly at the window, the image of how Julien had betrayed her flitted into her mind again.

‘Just one last thing,’ she said as the officer went to hold the door open for her. ‘The person who spilt the beans – did he say
why
he did it? Or any explanation?’ She just wanted to understand why he would do this; maybe if she could find an inkling of sense she might be able to forgive him. The officer paused then shut the door again.

‘As I’m sure you can appreciate, I can’t say who it is that came forward. He probably wanted to do the right thing. But he did mention you, and his concern for you, although since you once trained Rushin’s horse we’d have questioned you anyway. I’m sure he’ll tell you it was him if he wants to.’

Well, Ginny thought with a small sigh of resignation. Since it was someone she obviously knew and it was a
he
, it could mean only one person. Julien Larocque.

‘Thanks, I understand.’

Chapter Thirty-One

Ginny grimaced as a bunched field of horses galloped hard past Windsor’s finish post, their necks outstretched and muscles straining. The muffled drum of their hooves on the sodden ground was drowned out by the cheering of the crowd in the grandstand. She waited the few seconds more before her own horse passed the finish line then turned away. The gelding had been beaten at least twenty lengths and she was glad her father hadn’t come along to watch Libran Charter run like he usually did.

‘I’m just feeling a bit under the weather today,’ he had told her after morning stables earlier. Ginny had looked at him anxiously but he had laid a calming hand over hers.

‘Nothing to worry about.Just tired.’ He had glanced out of the window at the drizzling rain. ‘And I don’t fancy going out in that either.’ Ginny smiled at the wink he gave her.

‘Wish us luck then.’ God knew they would need it with Libran Charter.

Obviously God had better things to do than watch the 2.40 at Windsor and Ginny trudged down the steps towards the unsaddling area to greet her horse and jockey, her head down and shoulders hunched against the weather. With her eyes on the ground she didn’t see him until her shoulder ricocheted off his.

‘Oh! I’m sorry…’ she stammered, looking up in surprise. The rest of her apology faded on her lips as she faced Julien. His eyelashes had moulded together and the rain trickling down his cheeks showed the only animation in his expression.

‘Excuse me,’ he said, his extra polite tone making their meeting even more impersonal.

Ginny nodded and carried on her way. She felt her mobile phone vibrate in her pocket and she took it out, ready to divert it to her voicemail whilst she dealt with her horse. It was a number she didn’t recognise but the code was one she was very familiar with: 00 27. South Africa. Deciding Darragh could deal with Libran Charter and Alex without her help, she hurried to a place of shelter and took the call.

‘Ginny? It’s Rijk. How’s it going?’

Ginny hesitated. So many things were happening; it was difficult to say whether it was going well or not. The balance was offsetting towards bad, she decided. Should she tell her boss this?

‘Average.Raining like hell at the moment.’

Rijk chuckled.

‘You’re not missing much then. It’s pissing down here as well.’

Ginny gave a small laugh, devoid of humour as explanations for this unexpected call flashed through her mind.

‘Did you hear about Bouncebackability?’ Rijk said.

‘In the Durban July? Yes. Well done. He was going the right way when I had to leave,’ she couldn’t help adding.

‘Thanks. He did
lekker
. So did Dan.’

There was an awkward pause. Rijk was waiting for her to comment. Ginny didn’t know what to say. If she said anything against Dan van Rooyen, she would sound bitchy, yet she didn’t want to go praising him and jeopardising her job security even more.

‘Dan’s doing really good, Ginny,’ Rijk said, breaking the silence. ‘You’re good too. I hear you’ve got the favourite in the Doncaster Cup next week. That right?’

‘Yes. Sequella.’

‘
Lekker
stuff. Listen, I’ll be straight with you. Dan’s a good assistant. I’d be quite happy to keep him on if you don’t come back. But I need to know for sure if you’re going to come back. Dan wants some sort of security.’

Ginny hesitated. She thought of her father. He had been feeling tired lately. No matter how many times he reassured her he was fit and well, she wasn’t convinced him going back to work in the New Year was the best idea. The stable was still in such trouble it seemed absurd that she should leave now. She would also be leaving Caspian and Sequella. On the other hand…

Ginny bit her lip. She could see Julien through the deluge talking to someone beneath an overhang. She would be leaving Julien and that was definitely the right thing to do. As well as that, she hadn’t been
unhappy
in Cape Town. She had enjoyed her job, even if she hadn’t had loads of big winners, she’d still been happy enough.

‘The plan is still to go back to Cape Town,’ Ginny forced the words out of her mouth.

‘I need to know for sure though,’ Rijk insisted. ‘I don’t want to get left with no trainer at all.’

How could she decide right there and then? If she made a firm decision right now then she would be lying. There would be no certainty in her words. She hesitated a little too long for Rijk.

‘Two weeks, Ginny. I’ll give you two weeks to let me know. If I don’t hear from you then I’ll take it as a no and I’ll make Dan permanent.’

Ginny gulped.

‘That sounds fair.’

‘It’s more than bloody fair,’ Rijk muttered. ‘And you know there’s a limit to how fair I can be, hey.’

Ginny understood. She knew he wasn’t implying that he cheated. Only that business was business and he didn’t take prisoners. It had been the same when Charlie had been stepped down in favour of some Northern Province jockey in the J&B Met last year. Rijk wasn’t going to let him ride his horse and lose just because Charlie was a nice guy, no matter how much Ginny had tried to persuade him otherwise. As it was revealed, Charlie had turned out not to be quite as nice a guy as she’d thought.

‘I understand. I’ll let you know either way. Thanks Rijk.’

*

Ginny’s uncertainty over her future weighed on her mind like a wet blanket and a couple of days later she was no nearer to making a decision. Sitting in the office she again ran her options through her mind. Maybe next week would make things clearer. Sequella was running in the Doncaster Cup. If she won, Ravenhill’s reputation would be given a boost but would it be enough to ensure a smooth season for next year?

The telephone rang, interrupting her thoughts. Her fingers tightened around the receiver as she recognised the voice.