"The winner of the best turned out horse in this race is number five, Spinning Top, and the groom in charge, Emily Troy receives a cheque for fifty pounds."
A big smile beamed across Emily's face, and as she passed them, she got a well-done clap from the owner, trainer and jockey.
'We've won already,' shouted Garry, 'Well done'
There off and running.' informed the course commentator, preceding to call out the horses in their order of running. Garry was watching through binoculars in the owners and trainers section of the stand. Senan and his family were beside him, Emily was at ground level.
Len had Spinning Top four from the rear in the twelve runner field. The little horse seemed to have settled beautifully and was enjoying himself. Garry was happy - the jockey was carrying out his instructions perfectly.
As the runners thundered past the stands on the first circuit, the black and yellow quartered silks of Senan O'Sullivan figured prominently. The runners were closely bunched, forming a floating tapestry of colour. Rounding the corner and out on the second circuit, there wasn't much change in the order.
'Stay where you are,' Garry was mentally speaking to his jockey. Len seemed to be listening, waiting until they reached the hill. As they climbed, Garry could see Len giving an inch of rein - Spinning Top was responding. His head lowered, his stride lengthened. He was now grabbing the ground, kicking it behind him in a controlled but determined effort to reach the leaders. At the top of the hill, he was fifth. Free-wheeling down towards the entrance to the long home straight, Len gave his horse a little breather. He was now cruising smoothly within himself - Garry was delighted. That's what divides the good jockeys from the others, Len was one of the best.
Turning in to face three furlongs of a punishing uphill home straight, Len could see the winning post in the distance. He knew exactly how to get there, but had he the horse under him to do it? But then it was only his first race - was he fit enough? There was no sign of him blowing up yet - Garry knew how to get the wind right - this little fellow seemed to be spot-on.
Another inch of rein, Spinning Top was now really stretching, passing another three horses and into second place. The post was rapidly coming closer. The horse in front wasn't stopping - could he catch him? He didn't want to give the little horse a hard race on his first run. Still a furlong to go, Len was tempted to give him a couple of 'back-handers' - he decided not - Garry wouldn't want that. He just waved his whip at him, the horse picked up again. As they neared the post, the horse in front faltered, his stride shortened and he was hanging left under pressure.
Now, thought Len, one last surge. He squeezed, pushing with hands and heels. The little horse responded gamely. It was all over in a few strides. He won 'going away' by a length and a half.
Garry, Senan O'Sullivan, his wife and son were in a joyous collective embrace in the stand - they had done it.
The press swarmed around the happy group in the winner's enclosure. This was sensational, a big story for the racing papers to-morrow.
"A young unknown trainer wins with his first runner!!!"
They wanted a word with him - several words. Garry was responsive, courteous and unassuming.
He said he was delighted to get such a great start, was grateful to the owner and especially to Mrs Dilworth for recommending him to Mr O'Sullivan. He was also grateful to his stable lass, Emily, to his jockey Len for a great ride, and most importantly to Spinning Top. He would remember that little horse for the rest of his life.
They wanted a C.V. of his career to date, his stable's location, number of horses in training etc. Then the inevitable question: What are your ambitions for the future?
Garry thought. He didn't want to sound arrogant or carried away with his initial success. His ambitions were big - for sure they were - had been driving and motivating him since he returned from England and set up in Dream Valley. He'd keep them to himself though - less pressure that way.
'My ambitions for the future? Well, I'd like to train good horses, win nice races, and do a good job for my owners.'
Garry, Emily, Senan and his wife and son, enjoyed a sumptuous five course meal in the Country Hotel, halfway between Clonmel and Dream Valley. It was compliments of Senan, his way of saying thanks for a job well done. Spinning Top enjoyed his net-bag of sweet hay in the horse trailer, while viewing the surroundings through his front window.
Full and happy, they resumed the journey home. It was late when Garry eventually got to bed, tired but contented, at the end of a perfect day.
* * *
The staff canteen was located high up in the office block of Global Life. It was bright, airy, sunlit, and the view was brilliant through the wall of glass that looked out over the south Dublin coastline. The food was excellent too, self-service, quick and efficient, meaning more time for relaxation after lunch. Jenny liked that, gave her a chance to skim over the newspaper, make the odd phone call; perhaps write a letter or a greeting card. It was nice to do it while enjoying the sun, high up over the Blackrock rooftops that seemed to stretch all the way out to Dun Laoghaire.
'The Irish Times' was her link with the big outside world. She would turn the pages briskly, reading the short articles that caught her attention, mentally noting the important long ones, to return to after work in the evenings. Sometimes she did - sometimes she didn't. It depended on her schedule. The financial pages were rarely missed. She had to keep up with the markets, the investments, the exchange rates, insurance, general economic activity. 'The Times' was her main source of information.
The sport pages got scant attention. Headlines and pictures from the racing pages perhaps, or reports from big showjumping and equestrian competitions. She hardly ever read them through - hadn't the time. To-day though, one headline jumped up from the racing page, hit her between the eyes.
"Young trainer strikes with his first runner".
It wasn't! It couldn't be! Captivated, she read on, soaking the details in, going back again, reading it slowly, getting every word embedded in her brain.
"Garry Wren, who trains a small string at Dream Valley in South Kilkenny, and who only took out a licence recently, won with his first runner at Clonmel yesterday. Spinning Top, owned by Mr Senan O'Sullivan, ridden by Len Lovett, took the Pro-Am Bumper by one and a half lengths at odds of twenty-to-one. The horse, also winning the prize for the best turned-out in the race, made steady progress from halfway and won well, prompting many shrewd observers to predict a bright future for his twenty-six-year-old trainer.
Wren, who hails from Glengriffen, served his time with Major Norton in Newmarket, and later was assistant trainer to Jack Holden in Lambourn, purchased his Dream Valley stables just over a year ago, has eight horses in training, and hopes to expand".
Jenny leaned back from the table, still staring at the article, which she had read three times. She was ecstatic with genuine delight for Garry, remembering how much he had helped her. That day in Punchestown, he probably saved her life, looked after her stricken horse, then at the hospital, helped her out of her depression with his lovely cheerful phone call.
She would return the compliment right now - immediately. This was her chance. God, I could so easily have missed that headline - then I would never know.
She leaned down to her handbag on the floor, picked up her mobile; then it dawned on her. The number! I haven't got Garry's number - now what? She paused, thinking intensely - 'Directly Enquiries' - that's it.
"No, I'm sorry, there's no 'Garry Wren' listed here"
Damn it! He only has a mobile - where will I find that? She thought again - there must be some way - she got it! The Turf Club. They would need to have it for entries, declarations etc. But would they give it out to a stranger? It was worth a try. Directory Enquiries again.
'The Turf Club, please.'
'Good afternoon. The Turf Club. How can I help you?'
'Oh, I wonder if you could let me have the phone number of Mr Garry Wren, trainer, Dream Valley, County Kilkenny?'
'
Certainly Madam - it's a mobile number.'
'I know,' replied Jenny gratefully, repeating and jotting down the number. 'Thanks a million' and she really meant it.
Now, how much time have I got? She checked her watch ten minutes - that will do.
Pressing the digits, she waited; no joy. After about ten rings it cut out. She waited, gave it another try. Garry's cheerful voice answered after the first ring.
'Hi, Garry, it's me, Jenny Howard ... remember me?'
'Sure I do, Jenny, how are you? Sorry to keep you ringing ... my jacket with the phone in it was back in the yard. Emily heard the ring, took it out here to me in the field.'
'No bother at all. Congratulations on your great win! I've just been reading about you. I'm delighted for you, Garry.'
'Oh, thanks very much, it was great alright.'
'Some achievement with your very first runner.'
'Ah, a bit of luck,' he said modestly, 'the little horse did it well ... a sharp little fellow. He's here with me now having a pick of grass. We're lucky to have him.'
'That will surely give your career a great kick-start ... I mean, the publicity in the papers and all.'
'Hope so. I'd say it probably will. I had a lot of phone calls congratulating me - two new horses coming to-morrow. We're full now ... had to turn down a couple more. Yeah, it's great ... I'm delighted.'
'Oh, that's wonderful Garry, you'll have to expand.'
'Yeah. I have plans for another ten stables ... probably go ahead with them now soon ... as soon as I can afford them.'
'Well now, that's a co-incidence. I'm building a little stable complex myself. I'm working on the drawings at present.'
'Good for you, Jenny. Doing the drawings? Are you an architect too?'
Jenny laughed. 'No Garry, I'm not, a 'chancer' would be more accurate.'
'Maybe when you've finished, you'd come down here and do mine.'
'God, I'd love to.'
'That's a deal then ... I'll hold you to that.' They both laughed.
'How are you now, Jenny? As good as ever, I hope.'
'Yeah, I feel great, back to work and all ... I'm on my lunch break now.'
'Great. I'm glad to hear that. What about the riding ... done any since?'
'No Garry, I'm afraid I have to give it a break for a while.'
'Ah well, you'll be back ... that's for sure ... I know you will.'
'Oh, I will ... as soon as I get things sorted out. First I need three things.'
'Yeah?
'Well, I need a new horse, new stables, and a consenting husband ... the last one might be the most difficult.'
There was a pause. Garry felt awkward. The last thing he wanted was a discussion on Jenny's domestic affairs. He wasn't sure how to reply.
'He's not fond of horses?'
'Not fond of them! He's totally anti-horse ... detests the thought of me "risking my life" on them'
'That's tough,' Garry tried to convey sympathy and understanding - hoping to leave it at that.
'Oh, I don't mind, Garry; I can handle it. I'm working on him ... he'll come round.'
'Good' He wished she'd change the subject - she did.
'When is your next runner?'
'I'd say in about a month. I'll give Spinning Top a little break now. Some of the others should be ready about then.'
'I'll be away myself around that time, so I better wish you luck now.'
'Oh yeah? Off to the sun, is it? Lucky you.'
'Yes, Ken and myself are going to Florida for two weeks. The Company I work for; it's their convention ... it should be good.'
'That's marvellous; I hope you enjoy it ... it's you that have the good life, Jenny.'
'Not complaining, Garry. Still I wouldn't mind having yours ... green fields, lovely wide open spaces, peace and tranquillity, horses, nature ... sure you have it all.'
She could picture him now, probably sitting on a stone, relaxing, savouring the beautiful country atmosphere, the horse grazing peacefully in the lush green grass. She still didn't know what he looked like; she could only imagine.
'Yeah, I suppose it sounds good when you put it like that. Here's an idea for you ... come down and join me ... I could do with a business partner.'
'Afraid not, Garry, I'd be trouble. You carry on as you are ... you're doing fine. I'll have to stick to the concrete jungle.' She glanced at her watch - ten minutes late.
'God, I must go, Garry. Congratulations again.'
'Thanks Jenny, and thanks for ringing ... have a great time in Florida.'
'I will, Garry, cheers.'
She was last leaving the canteen - they had all gone back to work. She wasn't bothered about it - that chat with Garry was worth it.
Garry was exhilarated. Switching off the mobile phone, he marvelled at what that little piece of equipment could do for a man's feelings. He was now on a high again. His feelings were a mixture of sweet sensations, warm contentment, hope, confidence, ambition. He even felt the return of faith in a world and a God that had, only a month ago, robbed him of the one true love he ever had, leaving him with devastation and despair.
He felt a genuine admiration for Jenny. A warm feeling of growing friendship and companionship that seemed to intensify even while they spoke. He was thrilled to get her call, great to hear her fully recovered and in great form again. Of all the phone calls since yesterday; that was definitely the best. She was something else, so generous in her praise and congratulations, so interested in what he was trying to achieve, so knowledgeable and understanding about horses, so cheerful and enthusiastic about everything.
He began to think more deeply about his own situation, his career, his whole life ahead. It seemed ridiculous what he was trying to do all on his own. After Sandra's funeral, he said he would never think of a wife or partner again. His mother was right: "You should never say never ... no one knows the future ... God never closed one door without opening another." Mam was always right.
If he could find someone like Jenny, it would make his life. His whole outlook on everything would be changed. He would have someone to celebrate the good days with him, to share the bad ones, to pool their knowledge, their opinions, their feelings. Yes, he was now convinced of what he needed, what was so glaringly missing in his life, what he should actively search for now - a partner, a soul-mate, a companion, a true friend - someone like Jenny.
But was there another Jenny out there? Maybe not - Jenny was special - she had everything. What a strange twist of fate, he thought. Here was a woman - a top business executive, married to a top doctor, and she finds time to call him, chat to him during her lunch break. He hardly knew her, saw her only once when she fearlessly displayed her wonderful spirit and exuberance over those big banks at Punchestown. God, was he impressed? Then to find her beautiful and unconscious body buried in that dirty ditch through no fault of hers or the little horse.
He'd love to meet her now - they would have some chat - so much to talk about. She might even steer him towards someone she knew that would suit him - someone like herself. God, that doctor was lucky. She said he was anti-horse. That's terrible. It must be very awkward for both of them, especially Jenny - if only she was his wife.
He pulled himself back from his day-dream - shouldn't be loosing the run of himself. She's not your wife - forget it.
* * *
Come Fly With Me
The big American Airlines jet was flying smoothly at thirty-five thousand feet between London and Miami. Most of the passengers were asleep including Jenny. Ken wasn't - he was thinking - his mind was working overtime. He tried to keep focused on the two weeks ahead in Florida, what he could do to make it memorable for Jenny. She deserved that. He would do everything he could to make the most of it for both of them. If things worked out the way he hoped they would, who knows? It could change their lives.
Dr Lucas could be right. His problem could be resolved in an instant, or it might never be resolved. The new sperm tests were inconclusive, not much better than th
e previous ones, but still a little better. With treatment it could improve further; that was encouraging. Even as it was, Dr Lucas was convinced that conception could occur, "given all the right circumstances." He even suggested that this vacation in Florida could be the vehicle that could provide "all the right circumstances." So, could this be his opportunity? He would make a special effort - Dr Lucas could be right. Ken prayed that he was.
Looking across at Jenny's petite face, veiled by her silk blonde hair, he was savouring her beauty and serenity as she slept contentedly, child-like, as without a care in the world. He felt so lucky to have her. She was so special, had everything. If only he could make her a mother, what it would do for both of them. She would then be even more beautiful. Their lives would be changed forever - their future secure - not as it was now, hazy, confused, uncertain, worrying, almost frightening. He could lose her, something he dreaded, but it could happen. Their relationship needed careful nurturing - was a strain sometimes - they both knew that. He loved her intensely, more than anything else in the world. He believed she felt the same about him, hoped he was right. Still, it was becoming increasingly more complicated. Jenny was strong-willed - had that from her mother - also practical and sensible - had that from her father. She knew what she wanted in life, knew what was possible, accepted what was not. But could she accept a childless life? He didn't know the answer to that, wasn't sure. That's what worried him most of all. If he couldn't give her one, would she look elsewhere?
She wouldn't, not Jenny. She was a true blue, had integrity, honesty, loyalty. He felt reasonably secure, but not completely. There was still a niggling doubt - it would always be there. He gazed at her again, instinctively laying his hand on hers resting on her lap. Opening her eyes slightly, squeezing his hand in hers, she smiled that lovely reassuring smile. He leaned over, kissed her gently on the lips, snuggling back in their seats, they both dozed off together.
The Breakers Hotel was even more impressive than it looked in the brochures. Towering majestically over the beautifully landscaped Palm Beach, its excellence and splendour sent shivers of excitement and anticipation through Ken, Jenny, and the large party of Irish tourists as they alighted from the luxury coach that took them from Miami Airport.
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