Dream Valley

by Paddy Cummins

  They rode together up Mount Brandon in the last serious gallop before the big race. 'Harmonica' was breathtaking. Effortlessly powering up the punishing incline, leaving Garry and 'Spinning Top' struggling in their wake.

  'That'll do,' said Garry, in his customary understatement as they pulled up and hacked home to the stables. It was a relaxing stroll back. They chatted as they went, carefully planning their strategy for the race on Thursday. Every detail had to be worked out, every potential danger averted, every smart move by the opposition covered and countered, a contingency plan for every eventuality.

  Nothing was left to chance. The mare was good enough. With average luck, in a true run race, she would win. Garry was in no doubt - Jenny agreed. The weather was now the big worry. Dark clouds were already hovering overhead, the birds had gone silent, the darkness over Dream Valley had changed its beautiful landscape from rich colour to a gloomy grey. The forecast was for snow, plenty of it, followed by severe frost. It spelled disaster for Punchestown if it proved correct. They prayed that the weather experts had got it wrong, or if correct, that a thaw would follow quickly and allow racing to go on. There was still five days to go and the weather could change a lot in that time. Anyway, they could do nothing about it, only wait anxiously and hope for the best.

  Back in the house, they studied the 'Racing Post', drank coffee and made love. It was becoming almost a routine now, a beautiful ritual that just had to be done, an expression of their passionate love, a weekly trip to Paradise.

  On her journey back to Dublin, having travelled about fifty miles, Jenny encountered the first snow. Gently falling in large flakes at first, like feathers in a breeze, it soon got thicker, heavier, almost clogging the windscreen wipers, obscuring the road markings. Driving conditions seemed to deteriorate the closer she came to Dublin. The last few miles were treacherous, with the speedometer not rising above fifteen miles an hour, and visibility almost non-existent. All her driving skills were tested - she got there, but it was close. She was lucky, she thought, to have left Dream Valley so early, or she'd be stranded there for the weekend. On reflection, she felt unlucky. What a weekend they could have had. The snow would make it even more romantic - would provide the perfect excuse for Ken too.

  Waking up on Sunday morning, Jenny knew by the extra brightness of the bedroom that her fears were justified. Snow! She stepped out of bed and across to the window. Not as bad as she had feared. The lawns had about six inches of it, soft and smooth like a quilted eiderdown. The trees at each side looked all dressed up in white, and the birds seemed mystified, not sure where to fly or land. In a strange way she enjoyed the peaceful scene, appreciated the solitude and tranquillity, realised it was another example of the beauty and diversity of nature.

  Ken had been late home. She left him sleep on. Down in the kitchen she finished her coffee and toast, jotted down a list of items for her trip to the supermarket. She'd be back before he got up - have a good breakfast ready for him. Wondering if the car would travel on the snow, she checked the tarmac drive from the front door. It had just a light covering, the road would have even less, early morning traffic would have cleared it - the half mile to the shop would be no problem. She headed out the back door towards her car at the side of the house. About to step in, she heard the phone in the kitchen ringing. She paused, listened. Four rings and stopped. What a time to be ringing, she thought. Sitting in the drivers seat, about to start up, it rang again. Shit! Better see who it is. She jumped out, ran towards the back door. The smooth concrete was snow-covered, but wet and slippery underneath. As she braked her run for the door her feet skidded in opposite directions. She desperately tried to recover her balance but couldn't. Hitting the slimy concrete with a heavy thud, she immediately realised she had done damage. A searing pain pierced through her right ankle, then a roasting heat, followed by a total numbness. She tried to get up, but couldn't, feeling shocked and angry for her silly mistake.

  She heard Ken in the kitchen. He had come down to answer the phone. She could hear his side of the conversation - some golf outing postponed because of the weather.

  The irony of it dug deep into her. What a silly bastard ringing at this time of the morning for a trivial thing like that. Anger and exasperation was really bubbling up in her now. If that shit only knew what he has done. Again she tried to get up - failed. The slush was now seeping through her jeans. She called Ken. He didn't hear her. She called again louder, and again in a near scream. He opened the door, in his pyjamas.

  'Jesus Jenny! What happened? Are you alright? Christ! Did you fall? Are you hurt?'

  Lifting her up, he carried her in, laid her on the sofa in the living room.

  'It's this ankle Ken, everything else is okay.'

  He checked, slowly removing the shoe - it was starting to swell up.

  'Can you feel that?' He was pressing with his thumbs.

  'No.'

  The look on his face said it all.

  In the Belmont Clinic, the Xrays showed there were no breaks or fractures, but a severe sprain and bruising - Jenny was relieved.

  'How long will it take?' she asked the Orthopaedic Consultant.

  'In about three weeks you should be fine again.'

  Rubbish, thought Jenny. Three days - that's the target. She would move mountains to be right for Punchestown on Thursday. A little ankle sprain wouldn't stop her.

  Back in the house with a tightly bandaged ankle and two crutches to get used to, she tried to avoid feeling sorry for herself. She rang a physiotherapist, arranged a visit for Monday, booked three sessions. The local riding school confirmed a ride for Wednesday evening to test the ankle. She was sure it would be fine by then.

  She phoned Garry. He was really shocked, frustrated that he couldn't help her in any way. A hundred miles divided them. He would love to travel up to see her. She needed comforting now. He couldn't - felt helpless.

  'Is it very painful? Can you walk?'

  Jenny made light of it.

  'It'll be fine by mid-week.'

  He wasn't so sure. Yes, she was always positive, could arrange almost anything - but a sprained ankle? He knew all about it, happened to him twice - usually slow to heal, needed time. It might feel okay on the ground, but up in the stirrup it was different. The weight and constant movement would test it. If it wasn't right, you wouldn't ride for more than five minutes - the pain would be too severe. He didn't want to discourage her, but to prepare her for the worst, just in case. She saw the sense in that.

  'Right then, Garry, let's consider plan B. If I can't ride on Thursday ... would you ride 'Harmonica?'

  That really stunned him. It was now a crisis - he had to think fast.

  'Oh, I don't know, Jenny ... I hadn't thought about that at all ... for now let's believe that you'll be able to ride her.'

  'Yes, I know, but just in case I can't ... would you then ride her?'

  'Well,' he hesitated, 'I do still have my riding licence ... that wouldn't be a problem, but ...' he paused again, 'I haven't ridden in a race for years.'

  'But you're fit, Garry. You're riding 'Harmonica' every day. You know her as well as I do. There wouldn't be much of a difference.'

  'Yeah, I suppose you're right ... trouble is ... I'd have to loose about half a stone weight by Thursday.'

  'That wouldn't be a problem, would it?'

  'No, it wouldn't Jenny ... I'd probably loose it worrying.'

  'If I were down there, I'd help you loose it.'

  'I know you would.' They laughed.

  'Anyway, Garry, thanks for agreeing. That's not saying now that you're going to get the chance ... I intend to be fit ... it's just in case anything goes wrong.'

  'Right Jenny ... that's a deal then.'

  Ken had mixed feelings about Jenny's predicament. He felt genuinely sorry for her. To see her injured in any way always hurt him too. He couldn't help feeling that this time it could be a blessing in disguise. Looking at her hobbling around the kitchen, suppressing the pain and discomfo
rt, ignoring the medical advice to sit and keep the leg raised up, he could see she was determined to fight it, beat it by Thursday. He knew better, saw it many times before. You can't force your body to heal. You can foolishly try, but it will only react stubbornly. Like a game of 'Snakes and Ladders' you'd soon be back down at the first rung again. He was only too aware of Jenny's fighting instincts - she will fight it. He suspected she might loose this battle - deep down he hoped she would.

  The first visit to the physiotherapist went well. Wendy Curry was the best in town, but she couldn't do a lot, the ankle was still swollen. She helped her other leg muscles though, keeping them toned and supple. The pain was receding, was much better now. Three days to go, Jenny felt she was bang on target - winning the battle - it was mind over matter. She always trusted her enormous will power - it never failed her - it wouldn't now either. She phoned Garry.

  'I'm half-way there, Garry.'

  'Great ... does that mean that I can start eating again?'

  'No, it doesn't ... half a stone less will crown you anyway ... I just did this to slim you down.'

  They laughed. He was delighted and relieved that he mightn't have to ride in the race after all. It was the last thing he wanted to do. He was a trainer now - wanted to concentrate on that. He couldn't believe Jenny's quick recovery. It would be a miracle if she made it. He hoped she wasn't bluffing - it would be suicide to ride with an injury. He would have to be one hundred per cent sure of her fitness before he would let her ride in that race - it would be just too dangerous.

  Jenny's optimism and confidence suffered a set-back on Tuesday, and ironically, it wasn't because of her ankle. That had improved greatly. Wendy was really surprised at the movement and flexibility, without the earlier severe pain. She could now discard the crutches and walk with aid of a stick - some improvement in only two days.

  While she was really pleased with the ankle's progress, Jenny was now more concerned with the rest of her body. She felt unwell, nauseous, weak and drained. She tried to analyse the cause - probably delayed shock from the injury and the absence of proper food since Saturday. She could only pick at the odd snack - had no appetite for a proper meal. The last couple of days were probably taking a lot more out of her than she realised.

  Leaving the physiotherapist's, she almost fainted, but recovered quickly when out in the fresh air.

  'Are you sure you're alright, Jenny?'

  Wendy saw her stagger, noticed her pale face and sweaty forehead.

  'I'm fine now, thank you,' her taxi was waiting, 'be grand when I get home.'

  She wasn't. Ken was working and wouldn't be home 'till late. She climbed the stairs with great difficulty, not from the ankle, but general weakness all over. She lay over the bedclothes for a while, sipped a glass of water, undressed and got in.

  She felt only slightly better in the morning. Ken was leaving early for the Clinic. Showing him the ankle, she didn't dare mention her other problem. He agreed it had made remarkable progress, but he was concerned that the crutches were gone.

  'Don't overdo it, Jenny ... you could be back to square one ... then you would be really upset ... and I don't want to see my little darling upset.'

  He kissed her.

  'Ah, you're so kind ... come here.'

  Pulling him closer, she kissed and hugged him tenderly.

  'Got to go, Love. For God's sake mind yourself, Jenny. You really don't look great. Are you sure you're okay? You know your health is more important than anything else.'

  'I know Ken ... I'll take care ... I'll be fine.'

  She rang Garry.

  'I'm getting there, Garry ... how's 'Harmonica'?

  'Oh great ... rearing to go.'

  'How's the weight?'

  'Two pounds more to go ... getting there.'

  'Good for you.'

  'Jenny?' He hesitated.

  'Yes Garry?'

  'Do you really think you'll be able to make it? It's to-morrow you know ... only twenty-four hours away.'

  He was serious now. It really was decision time - he had to know.

  'Garry, I'll ring you this evening about five ... I'll decide then, yes or no ... if all goes well ... hopefully it will be yes.'

  That, to his ears sounded like an unusual lack of confidence. She seemed strangely unsure, almost pessimistic, lacking that steely determination and cheerful optimism. He was really concerned now. That would be no way to ride in a big race. Your state of mind was every bit as vital as your body fitness - both would need to be perfect. Jenny sounded as if she was a long way from that. Maybe to-morrow she'll be okay - he now had grave doubts.

  Wendy was amazed with the ankle. It was taking the weight, flexing perfectly, no pain, no swelling. It was a miracle.

  'It's amazing,' she marvelled, 'when you're physically fit, how you can make things happen ... this is a record recovery.'

  'It's yourself, Wendy. You didn't get to be the best physiotherapist in the city by accident.'

  'Oh, for heaven's sake, Jenny, you'll give me a swelled head.'

  'Anyway, thanks a million, Wendy.'

  She watched and waved as Jenny walked to her car. She waved back and gave the 'thumbs up' sign. She believed she had won the battle against the odds - would now test it in the saddle.

  Driving out to Shankill, about to branch off towards the riding school, she got that nauseous feeling again - worse this time. She felt weak and hot. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead and she began to perspire all over. Stopping at the nearest lay-by, she slumped forward in her seat, lowered the side window. The fresh air helped. There was half a bottle of water in the glove compartment. She drank some - it helped too.

  This is disastrous. What am I going to do? No point in going any further, feeling like this - weak as a kitten.

  She waited, tried to take long breaths. Gingerly, she got out, walked a bit, came back, leaned on the car. She felt a little better, but that wasn't good enough. She tried to size up the situation rationally.

  I can't go to the riding school like this, can't test the ankle - must ring Garry at five - it's now three ... time is rapidly running out.

  She thought intensely. She really needed help now - there was none. God, if she was near Garry now - they could work it all out. What could she do? She was really on her own, hopelessly isolated.

  The logical and rational thing to do flashed across her mind. It was plain and simple. Just pop over to the Belmont Clinic, where her husband was, and get herself sorted out - she would get VIP treatment. But it wasn't as simple as that - not for Jenny. It would be the last thing she would do - perhaps, deep down, she didn't really want her condition diagnosed - not yet.

  Feeling slightly better, knowing it was decision time, she went back over the situation and her options again. No riding school, no test of the ankle. The exercise bike, that's it. She would head home, should feel better by then. Half an hour on the bike would tell her if the ankle was okay. She turned the car and headed homewards.

  Getting on the bike, she felt confident. The sickly feeling had eased, she was a bit stronger now. To her dismay, she lasted only fifteen minutes. The ankle was starting to ache, but worse still, the strength of her body had evaporated rapidly - she had to stop - it was no use - she just wasn't up to it.

  Crouched on the sofa, with her elbows on her knees, her hands holding her head, she sank into a deep state of depression. Weeping bitterly, sobbing loudly, her eyes flooded with tears of despair and disappointment. She was alone, sad and lonely.

  She rang Garry. He was shocked to hear her cry into the phone - his tears came too.

  'Oh, Jenny love, it's not the end of the world ... in a few days you'll be fine again. That bloody fall in the snow came so soon after your other serious accident last year ... you just weren't able for it.'

  'I know, I know Garry ... but I really thought I'd make it ... I've never felt so disappointed in my life.'

  'No more disappointed than me, Jenny ... I thought you'd make it too ... but it co
uld be worse ... if something happened you in the race it would be disastrous ... they'll be plenty more races.'

  'I know, Garry ... maybe it's for the best ... what about you? Are you happy about riding?'

  'Ah yeah. Sure I've got the weight down now ... I might as well. I think she has a great chance. It would be a pity to deny her the opportunity. You know, if she won, she'd be a champion.'

  'Oh yes I know, she has to run.'

  Jenny was now warming to the idea of 'Harmonica' storming past that famous winning post, with Garry in the saddle, getting some well deserved acclaim as the trainer and rider of a champion. She would get hers as the owner - the Champions Cup and twenty thousand pounds prize-money. The money wasn't important. She would give it to Garry, he could do with it. But 'Harmonica' would be a champion - worth her weight in gold.

  Her spirits began to rise. Her self-pity now seemed silly and exaggerated. There was much to be thankful for - she appreciated Garry most of all. He never failed to sort her out, get her back in perspective. If only she was beside him now, she would kiss and hug him and never let him go.

  * * *

  The Price of Paradise

  The day was chilly and damp at first, but brightened up by mid-morning. Jenny was feeling surprisingly well. The ankle was a bit stiff after the bike, but okay. It would be well up to carrying her through what she expected to be an exciting day. She would be at Punchestown at one-thirty to meet Garry and Emily. That would be an hour before racing started. Their race wasn't until five-thirty, the last race of the day.

  She had spent much of the morning choosing her clothes and working on her appearance. It wasn't the ideal preparation. She hadn't time to get a new outfit as she had expected to be in casuals, before changing into her riding gear. She was almost ready to leave when the phone rang - it was Ken.

  'Oh, Jenny, I'm glad I got you before you left.'

  'Why Ken? What's up? What's the matter?'