Keeping the Peace (8 page)

Jack nodded to the visitor’s chair.

‘We need to chat about a few things. Your job here for starters, Peace Offering, and how we’re going to sort out the financial side of everything.’

Pippa’s thundering heart eased. She still had a job.

‘Okay.’

‘I’ve got a couple of runners at Wincanton this afternoon so I’m going to be out until about five or six. Your working hours are until five so you don’t have to wait for me to get back.’

‘Okay.’

‘You’ll be expected to work Saturdays as well.’ Jack paused for reaction, but Pippa just nodded. She wasn’t particularly bothered about work encroaching on her weekends. Waitressing had taught her this. ‘Gemma was in the middle of organising Aspen Valley’s Open Day before she went AWOL, so that will be one big thing you’ll need to take over. We’ll be having the public, the media, present and potential owners all milling around looking at the horses Tuesday after next. You’ll need to organise some sort of catering. Given your background in waitressing, I’m sure you won’t have too much of a problem with that.’

Pippa briefly flashbacked to the vegetarian lasagne man at Vivace’s and concluded that was an incident best kept to herself.

Jack tapped his pen on his desk, frowning and Pippa could see him considering the forthcoming season, not as an exciting adventure like it was for her, but as serious business manoeuvres, battle plans almost.

‘The closer we get to Christmas, the busier we are going to become,’ he continued. ‘It’s the King George VI Chase at Kempton on Boxing Day where Virtuoso is due to run, so there is going to be huge pressure in the run-up. The media are going to be looking for comments and quotes so keep your mouth shut.’

Pippa pouted.

‘Hey, that’s a bit unfair.’

‘Keep your mouth shut,’ he repeated. ‘Whether you know something or you don’t, if the press get hold of it, it’ll get whipped into a frenzy and rumours spread like wildfire. It’s also the Christmas Hurdle and the name on everyone’s lips will be Black Russian.’

‘Black Russian? I entered him in a race this morning, didn’t I?’

‘No, you
declared
him in a race – or I hope you did, anyway. He’s running tomorrow in the Fighting Fifth Hurdle.’

He closed his eyes for a moment and Pippa imagined him praying she had done the correct procedure.

‘When you get phone calls for me when I’m in the office, tell them you’ll see if I’m available first before putting them through. Some of their requests can be dealt with by you. Owners want to come see their horses. As long as it isn’t in the morning or evening when they’re being fed, they’re welcome to come round. A lot of other calls will be from jockeys’ agents wanting to know what we have running.’ He paused and wagged his pen towards her to amplify the importance of what he was saying. ‘First and foremost, we already have two stable jockeys. Rhys Bradford is number one, Finn O’Donaghue is number two. If we have horses running at three different venues or more than two horses in one race, we look for other jockeys. And, unless under the owner’s insistence, these two jockeys will always get first pick. Understood?’

‘I think I can handle it so far.’ Pippa struggled to keep her voice polite in response to his patronising tone.

‘Now...’ Jack exhaled and placed his hands wide on the edge of his desk. ‘About Peace Offering. What is this farcical you’ve got going about him running in the National?’

Pippa lifted her chin.

‘I was going through Uncle Dave’s stuff and I came across something which suggested he wanted to enter him.’

‘Suggested? You mean you high-tailed it up to Doncaster to pull your horse out of the sale, quit your job in London to slave for his training fees whilst living in a dump, all on a
suggestion
?’

‘You missed out that I had to steal a car to get to Doncaster.’

Jack’s face fell and Pippa batted her hand at him.

‘Long story. Anyway, it was more than a suggestion. It was a dream. Is that so wrong?’

‘Some dreams are just pie in the sky.’

Pippa folded her arms and locked Jack in a stern gaze.

‘How long have you wanted to train racehorses?’

Jack’s eyes flickered away from her and he fiddled with his pen.

‘Since I was a boy if you must know. I wanted to ride them first, but...’

‘But?’

Jack looked up.

‘I grew too heavy. So I got into training. I went from work rider to head lad to assistant trainer to having my own yard.’

‘And now you’re champion trainer. From what I’ve learnt only in the last few hours, you also have two champion racehorses in Virtuoso and Black Russian. I bet you dreamt of this when you were younger. Didn’t you?’

Jack shifted in his seat and flicked at the pages of a notebook in front of him. When all he did was shrug, Pippa carried on.

‘And I bet at the time some people probably considered that dream to be pie in the sky.’

‘Yes, but –’

‘But?’

‘This is different. I was a boy, I was unproven! Peace Offering has been racing for five years now and he
is
proven. He’s proven that he can’t win a National!’

‘How? Has he run in it before?’

‘No, but –’

‘So, how do you know then?’

‘I just do!’ Jack exclaimed, throwing up his hands. ‘I train the bloody animal, I should know. He’ll be ready to run in a couple of weeks’ time. Then you can see for yourself!’

‘Jack,’ Pippa said firmly.

‘What?’

‘I’m not going to change my mind. I’ve done this whole thing in order for Peace Offering to have a crack at that race – everyone thinks I’m crazy for doing it – so I’m not going to let you talk me out of it.’

Jack glared at her, considering whether to challenge her obstinacy.

‘Which leads us to the next thing. I’ll give you a discount on training fees, but you’ll still need to pay for his shoes, his transport and his entries and vets bills, if any.’

‘Okay. The money which I got from Astolat’s sale can go towards that.’

‘It won’t leave you with much to spare on Dave’s house.’

‘There isn’t a mortgage to pay and I’ve got a loan approved so what I get paid from you will go towards that and repairs. I’m also intending to sell some paintings while I’m out here to bring in a bit more.’

‘You’re an artist?’

Pippa tipped her head from side to side, non-commitally.

‘Some might say so. I kind of lost my inspiration these last couple of years living with Ollie – living in the city, I mean – but now I’m out in the country, I can feel it coming back.’

Jack gave her a lazy smile.

‘Is there no end to your talents, Miss Taylor?’

‘Not now that you mention it...’ Pippa grinned.

‘Not interrupting anything, am I?’ a cool voice from the open doorway said. A tall willowy blonde woman tapped on the door twice for effect before breezing in. Jack stood up and came round the desk to give her a brisk peck on the cheek.

‘Melissa. I wasn’t expecting you.’

‘We were going to have lunch before the races this afternoon. Remember?’

‘Dammit, sorry. Completely slipped my mind.’

‘You used to have everything in your diary – oh, Gemma kept that, didn’t she?’

She gave Pippa a slow smile, reminding her of a cheetah, the smile always present, but the hunter wholly apparent.

‘You must be the new girl.’

‘Melissa, this is Pippa, my new secretary. Pippa, this is Melissa, my, er – my –’

‘
Girlfriend
is the correct term, Jack. Although sometimes I wonder.’ She winked at Pippa in false sisterhood. ‘It seems I have to make an appointment to see him these days.’

Pippa didn’t know what else to do except laugh obligingly. Jack looked even more uncomfortable.

‘Are you ready to go?’ Melissa asked him.

‘Yes, I think so. Pippa, you’ll be all right, won’t you?’

‘You don’t have to worry about me. Good luck.’

Melissa laughed, a tinkling of ice cubes in a crystal glass, and she placed a slim manicured hand to her chest.

‘Pippa, what would he need luck for? I don’t intend to
eat
Jack, just eat
with
Jack.’

‘Oh, no! I didn’t mean that! I just meant for this afternoon – the racing this afternoon.’

Jack nodded and unhooked his jacket from the back of his chair.

‘Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

He guided Melissa out of the office with his hand in the small of her back. Pippa watched them leave, a curious frown on her brow. So that was Melissa. She looked like a right madam, and she was certain that handbag was an authentic Louis Vuitton.

Pippa was just slipping into her coat, looking forward to her lunchtime cigarette and exploration of Helensvale when the office door opened. A young man stepped in, a gust of icy wind accompanying him. His sandy blond hair and comic grin looked vaguely familiar.

Pippa’s brain rushed to place him.

‘Jaysus, that wind’d freeze the balls off a brass monkey. Howsa goin’?’

‘You’re the jogger!’ Pippa cried, pointing at him in triumph as she recognised the broad Irish accent.

The young man studied Pippa for a long moment.

‘Aye, I’ve been known to.’

Pippa stared back at him, still astonished how small the country must be compared to the city.

‘Sorry, I’m Pippa. We met a few weeks back. I was trying to find this place and you stopped to give me directions.’

A grin of recognition split his face.

‘That’s right. I remember now. You found us a’right then?’ Couldn’t find yer way back though?’

Pippa gestured to the office they stood in with outstretched arms.

‘I work here now. As Jack’s secretary. Today’s my first day.’

He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head.

‘Do you know what you’re letting yourself in fer?’

‘Oh, it can’t be as bad as that.’ She fobbed him off with a wave of her hand. ‘I’ve survived the morning anyhow. I was just about to go into Helensvale for lunch. Can I help you with anything before I go?’

‘That you can. Yer man, Billy, has cut himself on some fencing wire, so he has.’

‘Is he okay?’ she said uncertainly. She knew how to dress burns from hot plates, but fencing wire hadn’t been in abundance in London kitchens so hadn’t been included in her First Aid training.

‘He’s all cleaned up, the eejit, but it’ll need to go in the Accident Report Book.’

Pippa gave an audible sigh.

‘Thank God for that. I wonder where the Accident Report Book is kept...’ she murmured to herself, opening and closing the desk drawers.

Her guest didn’t comment, happy to rest his arms on the reception unit and watch her.

‘A-ha!’ she announced, brandishing a grubby hardback notebook from a tray. ‘Here we are. Date... Nature of Incident... Persons Involved – God, this isn’t the first time Billy’s been in the wars,’ she said, noticing his name listed in numerous other reports. ‘Action Taken... Reported by...’ She halted her pen. ‘Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.’

He gave her a mischievous grin.

‘Finn O’Donaghue, at yer service.’

‘Oh! Jack mentioned you. You’re the jockey,’ Pippa said, pleased to be able to put a face to the name she had been inputting during her entries and declarations earlier.

‘More commonly known as The Jogger, but I answer to both.’

Pippa chuckled, shaking her head and wrote his name in the book. She closed it and glanced up to find Finn regarding her with laughing green eyes. Not knowing what to say next, she smiled again at him and fiddled with the top button of her coat.

‘I’ll not keep you from yer lunch,’ he said after a pause. He tapped a quick beat of finality on the reception unit and turned to go. ‘I’m glad we’ve met, Pippa. I’ll be seein’ you about.’ He flashed her a grin and exited the office.

Pippa sunk back into her chair and gawped at the closed door.

‘Oh, that
accent
,’ she breathed. ‘Tash would be in heaven if she was here.’

A
supercharged sneeze sent Pippa reeling backwards and she clutched the counter behind her to break her fall. Whimpering in its sniffling after-effects she tackled the kitchen cabinets once more. Only now was she realising the challenge she had set herself in clearing up Uncle Dave’s house. This was just the kitchen and she was still scouring away at the dirt and grime on Sunday evening. Already, she’d scrubbed her way through a multi-pack of Brillo pads and her nails were as blunt as butter knives. The maple units were still a dull and dark shadow of their former self and the chipped and cracked worktops were the first thing Pippa realised would need replacing.

Her mobile phone buzzed on the windowsill and she sighed with relief at this interruption. Hoisting herself onto the counter she huddled in the corner of the window and pressed the phone against her ear.

‘Tash. What’s up, dude?’

‘You answered! Was expecting to get your voicemail.’

‘No, I’ve found signal in the house at last. In the kitchen sink of all places.’

‘You’re sitting in the sink?’ Tash’s tone was disbelieving.

‘Well, on the draining board really.’

‘May I ask how you discovered signal in the sink?’

‘Through admiring the views. It’s so beautiful out here, Tash. You’ve really got to come visit.’

‘Oh, I intend to. You working hard?’

‘I’m exhausted already. I’ve still only got as far as the kitchen.’ Absent-mindedly, she reached out and scrubbed at some dirt ingrained in an earthquake crack along the counter. ‘Tash, how do you break a granite worktop?’

‘I don’t know. Drop a piano on it? Why do you want to break a granite worktop?’

‘Not me. It’s already broken. I was just wondering how Uncle Dave managed to do it.’

‘Like I said, he probably dropped a piano on it. It’s the sort of thing he’d do just to find out. How is work going?’

‘It’s okay. Busy,’ Pippa admitted. ‘There’s about a hundred horses at Aspen Valley and Jack says I’ll know them all soon. Somehow I don’t see that happening. The only ones I know are Peace Offering, Virtuoso and Black Russian.’