The sun was beaming down from a clear blue sky as Jenny cruised down through Kildare and Carlow, reaching the picturesque South Kilkenny village of Graigue-na-managh around mid-day. She didn't have much time to savour the beauty, but admired its old world charm, its winding, rippling river and its majestic centrepiece, the beautiful and ancient Duiske Abbey. She manoeuvred the Mondeo through the infamous 'hole in the wall' - an opening to a narrow lane off the main street - revved up the hill and out into the countryside again.
Turning at the top of the hill, she was now skirting the slopes of the idyllic Mount Brandon and her eyes filled with the multi-coloured tapestry that stretched for miles ahead of her. It was like a massive patchwork quilt, with each patch a little green field. Some fields were dotted with peacefully grazing sheep, some with sleeping cows and cattle and some adorned with buttercups and daisies. It was a glimpse of Heaven, grabbed her heart, filling her being with sheer ecstasy. Jenny just had to stop the car. She couldn't drive and absorb the breathtaking beauty and drive at the same time. She stepped out, took a deep breath, felt intoxicated by the exquisite beauty, the excitement, the anticipation of what she would find beyond in that valley and the thought of being part of it, even for a day. She drove on.
She knew she was close to Garry's place when she passed the old castle, half of which had surrendered to the passing centuries, lay collapsed in a heap of stones, the other half standing defiantly. Down the steep hill and along the winding road for half a mile and there it was on the left, the entrance to the lane, no more than the width of the Mondeo.
He had warned her about the lane. The surface was dusty and rugged, the bends were sharp, designed in the stone age to keep little field boundaries intact, but Jenny's driving passed the test with honours.
Rounding the final double hairpin, straightening for the last downhill roll, the view almost took her breath away. Garry's little holding. Descending the lane, she could see over the rooftops and across the valley, which was doted with similar little homesteads, a landscape of charm and beauty.
Garry's little place was just magic to her eyes, like something out of a glossy Irish Calendar depicting 'Old Homesteads of Ireland' Perched on the side of the hill, overlooking the rich green valley, it had a warmth and friendliness about it. The thatched house and the little stone buildings were a reminder of days long gone and of simple country folk who lived their lives without affluence or grandeur, just happy and contented with the natural riches that surrounded them. She felt she was going back in time as she drove through the white-washed piers and parked in the centre of the cobbled stone yard. To her right was the quaint old thatched dwelling house, in front was a line of stables, with their pricked-eared occupants peering over their half-doors, curious to identify the rare visitor.
A little man was sweeping the concrete path in front of the stables. He turned, looked without straightening up, then continued. That certainly wasn't Garry.
A small hardy looking girl was delivering hay to each stable, briskly, almost ignoring Jenny's arrival. Still no sign of Garry. She prepared to get out. The loud thud on the rear of the car startled her. She looked round - it was him, signalling his presence - his way of unveiling himself, of lightening the introduction, starting with a laugh - it worked.
She got out, leaned back against the car, arms folded, smiling broadly. Their eyes met. For a moment neither spoke. Jenny broke the silence.
'So this is my life-saver.'
Clad in an open-neck blue check shirt, wrangler jeans, brown riding boots - he was near to what she envisaged him to be. Perhaps a bit taller, more boyish looking, but what a stunner. Those perfect features, big blue eyes, curly blonde hair, pearly white teeth dazzling through big succulent lips. Somehow she expected him to be special, didn't know why, just a hunch. She wasn't disappointed, he had everything, looks, personality, warmth.
Garry was contrasting the Jenny that stood before him with the one he carried unconscious through the field at Punchestown only a few months previously. That day he wasn't sure whether she would live or die - no one knew. Now she was here looking brilliant, healthy, vibrant, adventurous, ready for anything. Skin-tight blue jeans and white tee-shirt emphasised her shapely figure. Tall, yet no more then eight stone, sparkling blue eyes beaming from her perfect soft features, shining blonde hair brushed back under a band giving her a girlish look, that belied her real age. He was astonished by her beauty, even a little overawed by her presence. He wasn't used to this, felt awkward, intimidated almost. This girl was like someone out of a glossy magazine. He felt the luckiest man in Ireland to have such a special person as a friend.
'Welcome to Dream Valley, Jenny.'
'Thanks, Garry. Thanks for everything. I really do appreciate all this ... you don't know what you've done for me.'
'Oh, never mind that ... come on, I'll show you the horses.'
He introduced her to Johnny ... 'my yard foreman and maintenance manager.'
'Responsible position,' joked Jenny, shaking his hand.
'Mornin' Mam.'
Emily was keeping her distance, shy of strangers, preferring to get on with her work.
'You have to meet my 'Head Lass' ... this is Emily ... the best in the business.'
'Hi Emily, that sure is real praise ... a good time to ask him for a raise in salary,' she joked.
'Oh, I don't know' ... blushing, she shook hands, then continued with her work.
In each stable the chat lasted ten minutes, after which Jenny knew all about each horse, its breeding, its temperament, its ability and its potential. The tenth stable was empty. The bed was laid, the walls smelled of disinfecting, it seemed to be specially prepared for a new inmate. Jenny remembered Garry telling her that all the stables were full. What happened here?
He explained.
'The little horse went home to his owner this morning. He was a bit weak and backward ...would need another year to develop. I had to be honest with the man ... no use taking money under false pretences.'
Very admirable, thought Jenny.
'Now you'll have to find another one, won't you?'
She interpreted his look and wry smile as meaning 'I have all that arranged.
'Come on ... I'll hook on the horse trailer ... we'll head over to Dilworth's. The Rector will be expecting us.'
She climbed into the old Land-Rover. Soon they were out of the lane, heading left across the side of the hill. She lowered her side window. The cool breeze was refreshing, the scenery magnificent, the feeling of carefree abandon with this young adventurer made her feel like a teenager again. This was the life, exactly what she had been missing - she wanted more of it.
Bart Dilworth and Garry stood back as Jenny made friends with the big bay mare. She seemed to enjoy the attention of a woman, having got used to Mrs Dilworth's mothering. She wasn't taking any chances though. Smelling Jenny's breasts, stretching her neck to exchange breaths, she soon felt re-assured. Jenny stroked her face, tickled her underneath the jawbones and patted her neck. That was nice - she was enjoying it. Each step Jenny took backwards, the mare followed her, she wanted more tickling - they were now friends.
'Has she been named yet?' Jenny asked, hoping that she wasn't. It would be fun thinking up a nice name for her.
'Well,' said Bart, 'The real truth is that she is and she isn't.'
She was puzzled. He explained.
'You may not know this, but my wife had quite a few horses over the years. She loved music too, lived for it. In fact she named all her horses after musical instruments. There was Piccolo, Flute, Trombone, Trumpet and Banjo.'
'That's incredible,' gasped Jenny. What a brilliant idea. She had wonderful imagination.'
'Oh, yes, she enjoyed that. Anyway, she was told when she called to buy this mare that her pet name was Monica.'
'That's right,' enthused Jenny, 'the Leahy's always called her Monica.'
'Well, the naming forms were completed and ready to send away ...' he hesitated, 'she was going to post th
em in Waterford that day when she was killed.'
'Oh, that's terrible,' Jenny felt real sadness well up inside her.
'Guess what the name was?' Neither could get it.
Harmonica!
'Well, that is amazing,' exclaimed Jenny, 'what a beautiful name. She'll never be called anything else ... that's for sure ... we'll send in those forms next week.'
They went into the house to complete the sale. Jenny paid by cheque. Bart went to his study to write a receipt. Arriving back he handed it to Jenny.
'Now there's her Passport too, and the naming forms.'
He then turned to Garry.
'That's for you, Garry, and thanks very much for everything.'
It was a large envelope. Opening it, he gasped. Wide-eyed, and with genuine astonishment he protested to Bart.
'It's only a thousand pounds. I have more than I need. You're starting off ... you'll need it and much more. May God bless both of you now, and the mare too. I hope she'll be really lucky for you, Jenny.'
'Oh, thank you very much,' replied Jenny, 'I know she will.'
Travelling back to the stables with 'Harmonica' enjoying the spin in the horse trailer, Jenny and Garry were planning her future.
'This mare will win 'Point-to-Point's' and 'Hunter Chases' - she'll be just about ready in time for the coming season.'
'You really think so, Garry?'
'Yeah, she's the ideal type ... big, strong, well-balanced, and bred for the game.'
'Yes, she's all that ... and a lovely temperament.'
'She has ... a bit like her new owner,' he joked, now full of confidence and venturing into the unknown.
'No way, laughed Jenny loudly. You don't know me at all, Garry, I'm as headstrong as a mule ... 'Harmonica' is the very opposite of me.'
'Well, I hope so. You'll make a good team then ... no point in both of you being timid. You haven't decided where you're going to train her ... are your new stables ready?'
She had expected the question - the answer was simple. She had made up her mind the minute she entered Garry's yard. She knew he desperately wanted to train the mare - wouldn't deny him the opportunity. It was a strange twist of fate that brought them together: Garry, herself, and now this beautiful mare. Everything seemed to fit so perfectly as if designed that way. She turned towards him.
'You know very well where she's going to be trained, Garry.'
A wry smile and a quizzical look didn't fool Jenny.
'Ah, come on now Garry, don't give me that. What about that empty stable ...that didn't just happen by accident, did it?'
He burst into a joyous laugh.
'You have me, Jenny. You're too clever for me. Does that mean that you're giving her to me to train?'
'What do you think, Garry?' She was really teasing him now.
'Oh, I'd be really delighted, Jenny.'
'Right then ... that's it ... done.'
Thanks a million, Jenny, I appreciate that ... I'll do a good job for you.'
'I know you will, Garry.'
Little Johnny and Emily had finished their work and had gone home for their afternoon break. Jenny led 'Harmonica' out of the trailer and into her new stable. Looking happy and contented, she seemed to be enjoying her new surroundings. Jenny was happy too. To be back in the company of horses again, to handle them, touch them, smell them and talk to them, felt like magic therapy, soothing her nerves, reviving her spirits, filling that aching, longing emptiness that depressed her when out of reach of those beautiful four-legged friends.
The stable door was wide, with the top open and clipped back against the wall. They had just about enough room to lean over the half-door and admire the mare as she sniffed her way around every corner of the stable. She looked a picture, all quality, with power and scope to match. They could spend hours looking at her. Garry felt it was a great morning's work. Only a few hours since he chanced making that phone call to Jenny. He didn't expect this to be the outcome, and so soon. But he knew he wasn't dealing with any ordinary woman. This one was special, a breath of fresh air, no hesitation, did her business in a flash. She had purchased the mare, but in reality, both of them had acquired her. He felt really grateful to this remarkable beauty, now leaning so close to him.
Their minds were twinned in their hopes and ambitions for 'Harmonica.' He would train and ride her during the week - she would come down and ride work on Saturdays. They would have her ready for the early 'Point-to-Points.' Hopefully, she would win a couple and get qualified for the big Punchestown Festival. That was the plan - the target, the ultimate goal. Jenny would be the rider in all her races. That was the part that excited her most. It would fulfil all her dreams. It sent shivers through her - just to think about it.
As they leaned over the half-door hatching their ambitious plans, both were conscious of their close proximity to each other. Their bodies were brushing, their smells mingling, their bare arms touching, hers, smooth Florida-tanned, his, masculine, hair-covered. Inwardly, both felt the ripple of sweet electricity, outwardly, neither dared to acknowledge it. It was as if both were allowing themselves a little reward, a little hidden pleasure in celebration of their new association, and in anticipation of glorious days ahead.
'Come on, time for coffee,' Garry moved in the direction of the house.
'Super,' replied Jenny, as she followed him, entered beneath the thatch and got her first glimpse of 'his little nest.'
'Don't mind the place now, it's a bit untidy ... I wouldn't be great at housework.'
He was happy with the way it was, others might not. What they might think didn't bother him. With Jenny though, it was different. He hoped she wouldn't be disappointed with him for the untidy state of the place, waited for her first reaction.
'Oh, this is beautiful, Garry.' She was standing in the centre of the kitchen, circling around, admiring the ancient décor, the antique furniture, the authentic traditional atmosphere. 'This is the real thing, isn't it? Those flag stones, the old open fireplace with the crane and the fan. And that dresser ... don't ever change it, Garry, it's beautiful.'
Relieved and flattered, he was delighted that she felt exactly as he did about the place. He had no intention of ever changing it. She liked the coffee too. The chat flowed freely from each end of the old table. She soon had a lot of his background, found it all very interesting and fascinating. She wanted to hear more.
'Any girl friends at all, along the way?'
He swallowed, hesitated. 'Yes ... there was one ...' he paused again.
She felt sorry for asking - knew it was sensitive.
'Never mind, Garry ... probably a long story ... you can tell me about it some other time.'
'Oh shit! look at the time! She stood up. 'Got to go, Garry ... it's a long spin back to Dublin.'
'It surely is.'
They walked to the car, she got in, lowered the window.
'So that's it then, Garry, you have another new owner.'
'Yes, a very special new owner ... thanks Jenny for everything ... this is going to work, I know it is. You, me and 'Harmonica' ... we're on our way.'
That was sweet music to Jenny's ears.
'Let's shake on that.'
The handshake lingered a little longer than intended, giving their eyes time to exchange inner feelings. Both understood the unspoken message, felt the tug of some invisible magnet. He watched as the Mondeo revved out of the yard and disappeared around the first turn of the lane.
* * *
Jenny split the curtains of her spare bedroom window, anxiously looked for sight of Ken's car. It wasn't there. She checked the time again: nine a.m. That's very odd. No sign of him when she returned from Kilkenny last night - still no sign of him - where could he be? Sitting on the side of the bed, her mind filled with a mixture of emotions: concern, worry, fear, guilt. That row must have effected him a lot more than she thought. Maybe she went too far. If anything happened to him, she'd never forgive herself.
Perhaps she was a bit unfair to him - doi
ng things without telling him. Now this new adventure would probably drive him crazy altogether. This was a real solo run. Buying a horse, making all those arrangements with Garry. Plans to go to Kilkenny every week-end - and not a word to Ken - her husband. It couldn't be right. She felt guilty, not for what she had done, but for not handling it better. What's wrong with you, Jenny? Where are your brains? There must be ways and means of doing all those exciting things and keeping your husband happy at the same time. There has to be - otherwise the whole lot is doomed. That would be unthinkable - you just have to find a way, Jenny.
Still in a cloud of deep thought, deciding to seek the help of a strong coffee, she descended the stairs and entered the kitchen. Stopping suddenly, she was stunned and startled at the sight of Ken slumped at the table. He looked awful, as if he had been there all night. He had. The four empty coffee mugs said it clearly. The Aspirin bottle said something too - he had been drinking. His round of golf yesterday must have went to the nineteenth hole, got bunkered there, in the rough all night. She was relieved to see him. It was also a bit funny: Ken usually so perfect and responsible - now looking like a drowned rat, nursing his massive hangover.
He seemed startled too, looked really embarrassed. It was the first time she saw him like that. They always drank together, were usually in the same state of intoxication, enjoying it together, suffering the same joint hangovers. Now she was cold sober and he was suffering alone. He straightened up.
'I'm sorry, Jenny.'
'That's okay, Ken.' She was oozing confidence now. His little booze-up might be a blessing in disguise, an opportunity to straighten things out, make deals. He was the vulnerable one now.
'I'm sorry for everything, Jenny.'
'I said it's okay, Ken.'
'No, it's not okay, Jenny ... I want to say what I want to say, Jenny.'
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