Keeping the Peace

by Hannah Hooton

  ‘There you are,’ she said, her pose dignified, like a proud Roman emperor surrendering his rule. ‘That’s all of them. I’m leaving now. I presume we won’t hear any more about this?’ She raised an eyebrow at Jack.

  He shook his head.

  ‘This is the end of it.’

  ‘Good.’

  She turned on her heel and strode out of the room. As the door clicked shut, marking Melissa’s departure, their attention turned to the ominous yet inoffensive-looking envelope. Finn picked it up and peeked inside. He cringed away from the images, confirming they were the right ones. Getting up, he walked over to the fireplace and using a gas lighter, lit the corner and threw the envelope into the grate.

  They watched in silence as the photographs curled up away from the bright flames until all that was left was a few charred frills.

  ‘I should call Cara,’ Finn said, looking up. ‘To set her mind at rest.’

  Jack nodded.

  ‘Good idea.’ He turned to Pippa. ‘We’ve missed our dinner reservation and to be honest, I don’t have much of an appetite. Do you mind if I cancel on you?’

  Realising he probably wanted to be on his own, to straighten things out in his mind, she shook her head.

  ‘Not at all. I think it’s probably for the best anyhow. I’m going to head back to my room.’

  ‘Me too. We’ll leave you in peace, Finn. We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow. Hey, cheer up. It’s all over now. We won’t mention it again, okay?’

  The Irishman nodded and attempted a smile, but a sadness still remained in his eyes.

  Pippa noticed they were focused on her as she got up to leave with Jack.

  Chapter Forty

  Bursts of gusty rain spattered the hotel dining room windows the next morning. Pippa gazed sullenly at the heavy grey outlook, ignoring the full English breakfast in front of her.

  ‘Not hungry?’ Jack prompted between mouthfuls.

  Pippa shook her head. She’d never felt less like eating. Excitement and fear churned its own recipe in her stomach.

  ‘Have some toast at least,’ he said, pushing the silver toast rack towards her. ‘You’ll need to eat something. It’s going to be a long day.’

  With a reluctant hand, she selected a slice and spread some butter and blackcurrant jam on it. She watched Jack swab a hash brown in egg yolk and pop the last forkful of food into his mouth.

  ‘How can you eat? Aren’t you nervous?’

  Jack shrugged and patted his mouth with his napkin.

  ‘So-so. I’ll be more nervous come four o’clock.’

  Pippa groaned.

  ‘God. Seven more hours. I don’t know why I’m doing this, Jack. This is killing me.’

  ‘Don’t you remember?’ he smiled. ‘Dave Taylor is why you’re doing this.’

  ‘Bloody Uncle Dave,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I wish I’d never found that piece of paper.’

  He patted her hand.

  ‘Think of it this way: in seven and a quarter hours it’ll all be over.’

  ‘What do I do until then? I couldn’t sleep last night so I’ve finished my book. Oh, I wish I had Tash here.’

  ‘Where is she? I thought she was coming.’

  Pippa shook her head.

  ‘She texted me last night to say her boss is making them work all weekend.’

  ‘Bosses, eh? Who needs ’em?’

  She managed a smile at Jack’s encouragement.

  ‘Yeah. Nothing but trouble, they are.’

  He lifted an eyebrow.

  ‘Watch it. You won’t get your summer bonus if you slag off this boss.’

  ‘Doesn’t look much like summer out there,’ she said, nodding her head towards the window.

  ‘No, but it’s all good. The heavier the ground, the better for us. They say the storm is moving south so it should be clear by lunchtime. How are you getting home if Tash isn’t coming? You were both going to drive back to Helensvale, weren’t you?’

  ‘The same way I came, I guess. Catch the train.’

  ‘Rubbish. I’ll take you home.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘It’s on my way.’

  Pippa weighed up his offer for a moment. Five hours on the train with three or four stops along the route compared with three hours in a warm car with Jack? No contest.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Of course. Although,’ he said with a grave expression, ‘if we win, I’ll probably be over the limit. In which case, we’re going to have to book in here for another night.’

  Pippa sighed.

  ‘If we win? God, it seems impossible now. The National was so much easier to win six months ago.’

  Jack chuckled.

  ‘We’re not without a shout. But if we’re to have any chance then I’d better get going. Finn and I have to get over to Aintree to walk the course.’

  The prospect of doing something – anything – made Pippa perk up.

  ‘Can I come along?’

  Jack hesitated.

  ‘Probably best you don’t.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, it’s wet out there and –’ He frowned. ‘And it’s a long way to walk. The course is over two miles long.’

  True, Pippa admitted silently, it didn’t sound particularly attractive yet the thought of seven hours of doing virtually nothing was even less becoming.

  ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘No, really. Just take your time getting ready. There’s a whole card of races before the National to take your mind off things. I’ll call you and pick you up before lunch.’

  Her shoulders sagged. Great, now even Jack didn’t want her around. Fear, anxiety, despondency – everything that comes up on a manic depressive’s checklist, stirred inside her.

  Jack reached over and tilted her chin so she was looking at him. His blue eyes implored hers.

  ‘Pippa, it’s going to be okay. Trust me.’

  His concern acted like a comforter on a cold night. For a frightening moment, she thought she was going to cry. His hand slid along her jaw and he cupped her cheek. If his gaze hadn’t been so intense, she’d have been tempted to close her eyes against the warmth of his fingers.

  ‘Do you trust me?’ he asked, his voice low.

  She gave him a faint nod.

  ‘I do.’

  A smile, almost bashful, tugged at Jack’s lips.

  ‘Then trust me now. Stop worrying. No matter how adamant you might have been about entering Peace Offering in the National, we still wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think he was capable of running a good race.’

  Pippa nodded again and managed a brave smile.

  ‘You trying to take the credit if he wins now?’

  ‘There now, that’s more like the Pippa we all know and love –’ Jack halted abruptly. His Adam’s Apple rose uneasily as he swallowed. His hand fell away and he wrung his fingers together. ‘Time I got going.’ He rose from his seat, jogging the table in his haste and dropping his napkin. ‘I’ll call you later.’

  ‘Okay,’ she croaked in reply. With a self-conscious frown, she cleared her throat, trying to quell her swirling hormones at the same time.

  She watched him stride away, bumping into another table as he left the room.

  With his exit, the temperature seemed to Pippa to drop ten degrees. She hugged her arms around her, wanting more than anything for lunchtime to arrive so she could find comfort in his broad-shouldered support once more.

  She turned her attention to the plasma television hanging on the wall. A news team was previewing the big race of the afternoon.

  ‘May I take your plates?’ a waiter interrupted her.

  ‘Yes. Thank you. It was very nice. I just don’t have much of an appetite today.’

  The waiter began stacking the dishes and coffee cups into a pile.

  ‘Are you racing later?’ he asked and nodded towards the television.

  ‘Yes. My horse is running in the National.’

  He looked impressed.

  ‘Really? Which o
ne?’

  ‘Peace Offering.’

  ‘Oh.’ He resumed his stacking.

  Pippa’s heart drooped. The waiter didn’t appear so impressed now. She turned back to the screen. A damp-looking presenter stood in front of a huge steeplechase fence.

  ‘This jump is the infamous Becher’s Brook. From this angle, it looks simple enough at a height of four feet ten inches. But if we go round to the landing side, past the brook, we find an angled drop of a further ten inches on the other side of the fence and we can see why this fence has claimed so many victims over the years. Most jockeys try go wide as the drop is less severe the further out you are.’

  Pippa’s mouth went dry as she absorbed the suicidal obstacle.

  ‘To make it even more difficult, horses and riders must jump it twice during the race. To raise safety and welfare this jump has already been modified as have some of the other jumps so that the drop is smaller than in previous years. But the risk is now that horses will subsequently jump it faster and be in more danger of falling. Over to you, Bryan.’

  The camera cut to another report standing in front of a different fence.

  ‘Thanks, Sarah. I’m now in front of the Chair, the tallest and broadest of all the fences in the National,’ Bryan announced. He stepped down into the ditch on the take-off side and was dwarfed by the wall of spruce branches. ‘The actual fence is daunting enough at five feet three inches high and three feet wide. But this ditch which I’m standing in is another six feet wide. I guess the good news is that this jump only needs to be navigated once.’

  ‘Oh, God,’ uttered Pippa in a trembling whisper. ‘No wonder Jack didn’t want me to walk the course.’

  ‘What’s that?’ the waiter said.

  Pippa’s fearful eyes met his.

  ‘That – that Chair and that Brook are enormous. How can any horse be expected to jump those?’

  The waiter shrugged and picked up the plates.

  ‘All I know is that the Grand National has been run since the mid-eighteen hundreds and there’s always been a winner. Good luck.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Pippa murmured to his departing figure.

  She swallowed and said a small prayer for Peace Offering and Finn.

  ‘You look very pale. You sure you’re okay?’ Jack asked again.

  He and Pippa stood with a clear view of Aintree Racecourse from the Owners and Trainers roof terrace. Pippa tore her eyes from the horses circling before the Start and smiled.

  ‘Just nervous.’

  ‘You placed your bets?’ he asked.

  ‘Twenty pounds to win,’ she replied, crossing her fingers. ‘Will get a thirteen hundred return on that at sixty-six-to-one.’

  Jack snorted and shook his head.

  ‘You’ll get a much bigger payout than that if he wins. Think something in the region of half a million pounds and you’ll be closer to the mark.’

  Pippa gulped and her stomach disappeared.

  ‘You think we can do it?’ she croaked.

  ‘We’ve only got thirty jumps and thirty-nine other horses to contend with.’ He flashed a smile at Pippa’s saucer-eyes. ‘If you removed those from the equation, I’d say we’d be in with a shout.’

  ‘Oh, God,’ she said, turning her attention back to the imminent race.

  Peace Offering was being jogged in a circle by Finn with some other horses to warm up.

  As she watched, the sprawling course, which had lain in murky shadow since the morning’s storm had passed on, suddenly became bathed in light as the sun broke through the cloud. Pippa had never been a particularly spiritual person, even in the most desperate of situations, but as the sun glinted off the wet turf, she felt her anxiety subside. Dave Taylor’s presence enveloped her, filling her with a new comforting confidence.

  The starter climbed his rostrum and the forty horses formed a semi-organised wall, jogging towards the tape.

  ‘We can do it,’ Pippa whispered. ‘Peace Offering can do it.’

  She felt Jack’s fingers thread through her own and give her hand a gentle squeeze.

  ‘That’s more like it. We can do it... if Finn keeps his mind on the job.’

  Jack’s last words were drowned out by the roar of the crowd as the starter let the horses go. Pippa wasn’t sure if she’d heard him correctly. She didn’t have time to ponder it though. Her pulse quickened as the stampeding horses charged towards the first fence. Her green and red-striped racing colours could be spotted towards the rear of the field, two off the rail. With caution thrown well and truly to the wind, the horses tackled the first obstacle.

  ‘Firedrake leads them over the first, alongside Faustian and Alpine Pass on the far outside,’ the commentator droned. ‘We’ve lost a couple in midfield –’

  Pippa’s heart thundered in her ears as she tried to pick out Finn among the kaleidoscope of racing colours.

  ‘Shadow Captain and Gunsmoke are fallers as they now go on to Fence Two!’ the commentator continued.

  The mass of horses obliterated Pippa’s view of the next fence as they soared over it like a Mexican wave.

  ‘How are we doing?’ she squeaked, unable to tear her eyes away from the race.

  ‘Not bad, not bad,’ Jack muttered. ‘I wanted him wider out than this early on, but fingers crossed he won’t get interfered with by any fallers.’

  She swallowed a moan as the spread of Fence Three claimed three more victims.

  ‘Which one’s Becher’s Brook?’

  ‘Fence Six and Twenty-Two.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ She clenched Jack’s hand in hers.

  The depleted field thundered over the next two fences, inducing a small sigh of relief from Pippa after each as Peace Offering cleared them both. The remaining runners, spread across the course, now edged towards the inside rail as Becher’s Brook and the sharp turn immediately afterwards faced them. She winced as Peace Offering was crowded.

  ‘Give him space,’ growled Jack. ‘He can’t see the fence!’

  Pippa bit down hard on her lip as Peace Offering hurtled towards Becher’s Brook without a clear view.

  ‘Oh!’ she moaned as, at the last second, a gap appeared.

  Peace Offering gathered himself for the leap and took off. Finn let the reins slip through his fingers as he leant back to counter-balance the steep drop on landing. Pippa clutched Jack’s arm as the horse in front of their team over-balanced and somersaulted over. Finn pulled his mount wide. He ricocheted off another runner, but avoided the faller.

  ‘They’re over Becher’s,’ the commentator burbled, ‘and we’ve lost Ciel de Nuit, Bigger Bang, Warrior’s Gate and Picture This is also down. On to the Fence Seven, the Foinavon Fence, and Firedrake still leads to Faustian in second. Skylark is kept handy on the inside in third...’

  By comparison, the Foinavon Fence looked a doddle after the intimidation of Becher’s Brook yet two horses still managed to unseat their jockeys. Pippa leaned into Jack as the runners veered towards the inside rail.

  ‘What are they doing?’ she cried as she saw Finn direct Peace Offering at the next jump at a forty-five degree angle.

  ‘It’s the Canal Turn,’ Jack replied. ‘You have to take it at an angle otherwise you lose too much ground on landing.’

  ‘They might not land at all if they take those angles!’ She exhaled as her horse rose over the fence and skidded round the turn.

  ‘Good, Finn!’ Jack muttered, squeezing Pippa’s hand.

  Taking comfort from his confidence, she scrutinised the remaining runners before they tackled the next. Peace Offering, by doing nothing but jump accurately, was now running in eighth place, his long neck stretched out as his reaching stride ate up the ground. He pricked his ears and lifted his head as they neared Fence Nine. He took off well away from the fence.

  Pippa’s knees weakened as she watched him twist over the brook on landing. Her chest tightened as she continually sucked in her breath. Her attention was focused unwaveringly on her horse scrambling to stay upright.

&nb
sp; She exhaled. Two or three horses rushed past Peace Offering as his awkward jump slowed him to barely a canter, but she didn’t care. He hadn’t fallen. He was still in the race.

  Five jumps later, they were even more so in the race. The one-time leader, Firedrake, had been pulled up shortly followed by two other front-running contenders who put themselves out of the prize. The crowd’s cheering quadrupled as the remaining rivals galloped past the stands for the first time.

  ‘Oh, God, it’s the Chair next, isn’t it?’ Pippa quailed. She darted a quick glance at Jack to see if he was as concerned as she.

  His mouth was curved into an unconscious smile and his eyes danced with excitement as he lived the race.

  ‘He’s jumping well. He’s loving those Aintree fences,’ he said.

  With Faustian now at the helm, followed by Skylark, the horses streamed down the track towards the formidable Chair. The fifth-placed Corazon crumpled on landing and Pippa groaned. Peace Offering was heading right into their stricken path.

  ‘Look out, Finn!’ she cried through gritted teeth.

  Horse and jockey took off, the image of united co-ordination. Peace Offering stretched higher and wider to clear the yawning ditch and wall of spruce. Pippa could almost see the surprise register in Finn’s body language when he caught sight of the fallen horse on the landing side.

  ‘Please God, help them.’

  They touched down a stride away from Corazon. Peace Offering took half a stride and took off again, hurdling the half-risen faller.

  ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you,’ Pippa babbled. She wondered how many other repented sins God would allow her. Another fifteen fences’ worth?

  Once more, the horses passed the point of departure and across the Melling Road, a much depleted and wearier-looking field though. Pippa’s already hammering heart stepped up the pace as she saw Finn begin to coax Peace Offering faster.

  In a steady rhythm, they moved forward, closing the gap on the five horses in front. The only one she knew was Skylark. She listened keenly to the commentator listing them over the twentieth obstacle.

  ‘Faustian leads by half a length to Skylark on the inside. It’s five lengths back to Tarock in third, in company with Saint Blaise. Then another three lengths to Rossroe Boy in fifth. Peace Offering races in sixth with the favourite, Okay Oklahoma, running just behind...’