by Fiona Walker
‘You cheated?’ She was appalled. ‘How?’
‘I knew I couldn’t stay in the sport without regular money coming in – and a vet’s salary was never going to cover my costs, especially with all the time off I needed. I’m a clever bugger, but I’m still a little cross-breed from the ghetto. My career meant nothing next to competing. Then I met Lem and realised the only way of staying in the sport was by offering a unique service.’
‘What service?’
‘I’ll tell you about it some time.’ He stood up and cleared away their empty plates, leaving her hanging.
There was a single coloured show jump set up in the arena when Tash rode in the following afternoon, mounted on her goofiest youngster, a coloured mare called Lauren Bacall – or Lor – who was as beautiful as she was neurotic and stubborn.
‘I’m not going near that,’ she told Lough when he rode in after her on his little intermediate horse, Hex.
‘Sure.’ He started trotting round, warming up and ignoring her.
Tash wobbled about, getting increasingly tense and disagreeable with Lor, who set her neck left and crabbed furiously, almost falling over every time she caught sight of her reflection in the mirrors at the end of the school.
By now, Lough was sailing over the jump, which was set up at a good four feet, a ground pole placed well back from the approach which he was using to alter his stride pattern in – sometimes four, sometimes three, sometimes five strides from its stripy boundary.
Quite suddenly, Lor decided that she wanted to get out of the arena – if necessary backwards, on two legs.
Tash clung on, trying not to draw attention to herself.
‘I think we should swap.’ Lough suddenly appeared beside her. ‘You take this boy over that a couple more times and I’ll see if I can sort her out.’ He hopped off.
She was so grateful to get help with Lor that she didn’t really question what she was taking on. Which was why, two minutes later, she sailed over a jump that was way beyond her comfort zone and barely registered what she was doing apart from feeling a lovely rush. She was too busy looking over her shoulder to watch Lor trotting obediently down the long side like a dressage schoolmaster.
‘Whatever you’re on, I want some,’ she laughed.
‘I’ll cook you that tonight,’ he promised.
The food – and the life story – kept coming. Over successive nights of spicy seared salmon and meltingly tender beef fillet, Tash guzzled his food and listened as he carried on the story.
Dragging himself up to four-star competitive glory again had meant bending the rules more than just a little. He’d sold his soul, or at least his professional ethics.
‘My nickname, the Devil on Horseback, I figure I earned it twice over. I met Lem, and he opened a lot of doors – back doors – into the racing industry.’
His constant, crippling lack of funds had been solved by a reluctant but inexorable passage into corruption as an equine vet: ‘Dodgy blood tests, illegal beta blockers and anti-inflammatories, faked postmortems, I did it all.’ He made enough money to rent his own yard and secure fast-track access back into the sport he loved. Tipped to be the next Mark Todd because of his natural ability, he soon became an unwitting New Zealand celebrity, a pioneer in breaking stigmas against the Maori, against mixed-raced riders and elitism in sport. All the time his corruption and duplicity had threatened his sanity.
‘The one thing I never, ever did was drug my own horses,’ he insisted. ‘They were fit, sound and healthy and winning everything I entered. I got to the Olympics, for Christ’s sake. We got tested. Toto was clean. But by then it was obvious I was under closer watch than most, if you get my drift.’
Tash steepled her fingers over her nose, not knowing how to take it all in. Hugo would go spare. But then Lough said something that made her blood run cold.
‘Your husband knows all this.’
‘Hugo knows?’ She stared at him, bewildered.
He nodded, face hardening. ‘He made it quite clear that it would be in my best interest to come to the UK. He’d heard talk that I was under suspicion in New Zealand, that the authorities would soon be after me but it was being kept hushed until after the Games. A lot of rivals in the sport had information that could damage me. Hugo had access to all that information too.’
She was finding it hard to believe her ears. ‘Are you saying Hugo blackmailed you?’
‘Let’s say he gave me a very good reason for coming. I told him I’d think about it. We struck a deal.’ He looked up at her, watching her face closely as he often did these days, no longer too shy to look her in the eye. He had a way of running his gaze from hers to her mouth and up to meet her eyes again that was wholly disconcerting.
Tash licked her lips nervously. ‘But then you went back to New Zealand anyway?’
‘And got arrested,’ he nodded. ‘I thought it was the horse-doping. When they said suspicion of murder I laughed at them.’
‘What happened?’
‘I’ll tell you some time.’ Again she was left frustrated.
As soon as he’d gone, Tash phoned Hugo, staring at the clock and calculating Florida time as it rang through.
‘Is this urgent?’ he answered irritably.
‘What are you doing at six in the evening that’s more important than me?’ She tried to sound light-hearted, but the anxiety in her voice made her squeak like a mouse.
‘Addressing the USEA central committee on rider safety in four-star international horse trials; I’m about three-quarters of the way through the Q and A, if you’d like to add anything.’
‘No – you carry on!’ She rang off, mortified.
Later that night, he called back in high spirits. ‘How are the horses?’
‘Drug free, I hope.’
But when she tackled him about what he knew about Lough’s rule-breaking, Hugo’s reaction threw her: ‘Don’t believe a word he says. That’s not why he came over to England. Do not trust him, Tash. He’s got his own agenda. I don’t want you spending time alone with him, is that understood?’
‘Understood,’ she whispered, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.
But it was like leaving a book with the last chapter unread. She had to know.
The following day, Lough said nothing about cooking her supper. They worked around one another in near silence, riding out together, schooling side by side, utterly focused on their horses. Yet she knew that he needed to tell the rest of the story as much as she needed to hear it.
He was sitting at the kitchen table when she came downstairs from bathing the children, opening a bottle of wine. There were already two big bowls of Thai soup laid out. She fetched two wine glasses and sat opposite him, trying not to show how frightened she now felt at being alone with him.
But Lough picked up on it as swiftly as fear in one of his horses. ‘You’ve shown me such kindness, Tash.’ He looked across at her, eyes filled with concern. ‘Talking to you is helping me get a lot of things straight in my head. I probably come across as an ambitious, heartless shit to you.’
She shook her head. ‘Olympic medals and ruthlessness go hand in hand.’
‘Your husband won the gold,’ he reminded her.
Tash looked at him sharply, finding her apprehension eclipsed by curiosity. ‘You don’t like him very much, do you?’
Lough shrugged. ‘I don’t trust him.’
‘Funnily enough, he feels the same way about you.’ Tash laughed, relaxing a little as she perceived male egos at play. ‘Yet you accepted his offer to come here.’
Lough picked up his spoon and looked at it. ‘When I flew back to New Zealand with silver I was welcomed as a hero, but I knew it was a mistake to stay.’
‘Because you were about to be busted?’ She lapped up her soup, eyes watering because it was wildly spicy. It was one of the most delicious things she’d ever tasted.
It was his turn to laugh, that deep, rich sound which was as relaxing as it was rare. ‘Because life there has lost meaning. I’d done
what I set out to do: I became world champion and an Olympian without forsaking those shores. But sometimes what you really want is across the sea and you have to travel to get it.’
‘So you do really want to work with Hugo?’ Her nose was starting to itch from the soup’s chilli punch.
He looked into her face thoughtfully, gaze travelling slowly from green iris to amber iris to pink nose to stinging, wet lips and back to her mis-matching eyes. ‘He and I will always compete. We want the same things. This time, I want to play by the rules.’ His voice was so low Tash had to lean forwards to hear.
Realising her tongue was poking out of her mouth, she tucked it back in and nodded. ‘Lots of rules in British Eventing, but all good. It’s a much safer sport these days.’
‘I don’t feel safe with safe. Maybe I get than from my father.’
‘He’s the one you …’ She stopped herself, realising that adding ‘were accused of murdering’ would be beyond tactless.
He was still tracking her face, eyes to nose to mouth, an eternal triangle that kept that dark gaze occupied for what seemed for ever as she ate greedily, amazed by the flavours, equally fascinated by the story.
Now those black eyes alighted on hers and stayed put. ‘You’re so beautiful.’
Tash spluttered soup everywhere, making him duck.
‘Sorry!’ she coughed, eyes streaming. ‘I must have misheard you.’
‘You’re hearing’s fine.’
Nerves on full alert again, she carefully laid her spoon aside.
But before she could speak, Lough started talking again: ‘A couple of days before I was going to fly here, my dad got in contact out of the blue, wanting to meet me. I knew it was a trick, but I hadn’t seen him in almost twenty years and I figured it was my last chance to face those demons, so I went along with it.’ He refilled his glass, hand shaking.
‘We met at some slum bar he hangs out in near the harbour the night before I was due to leave. He’s a waste of space, my dad – typical Otara lowlife. Claims he’s never used his fists on Mum, but I saw the bruises, know how scared she still is of him. Most of his memory is pretty much white noise apart from anything involving dollar signs. He’d read about my success in the papers and wanted a slice of it. He threatened to make Mum’s life a misery after I’d gone if I didn’t pay him off. I gave him three grand in cash and told him to leave her alone, but he said it would cost me a lot more than that. It made me so mad, so demented, that he’d left my mother for dead all those times, I lost it big time …’
Tash caught her breath, staring across the table at him. ‘What did you do to him?’
He rubbed his brows with shaking fingers. ‘I spiked his drink.’
‘What with?’
‘Ketamine.’
‘Ketamine?’ Tash recognised the drug from working with horses, and she’d seen enough newspaper articles to know that the animal anaesthetic had a recreational following for its addictive – and illegal – opiate effects.
‘Yeah, I sent Papa through the K-hole.’ He let out a hollow laugh. ‘I wanted to fuck with his head as much as he’s fucked with mine. And I just wanted the truth.’ He looked up at her, making her heart rake through molten ashes of compassion for him.
‘And did you get it?’
He shook his head. ‘Just a load of shit about his father and how shit his life had been and how he could have had what I had if he’d only had the breaks. He was pretty out of it, talking in te reo – in the Maori language. Then he started throwing his fists about and hallucinating so I beat it, figuring he’d come out of it again soon enough, sleep it all off.’
‘But he didn’t?’
Lough shrugged. ‘He disappeared that night. Next thing I know, his freaky girlfriend was telling the police I killed him.’
‘And he’s still missing?’
‘As far as I know.’
‘Where do you think he is?’
‘Floating around Manukau Harbour, maybe, feeding the fish?’
She stared at him in bewilderment. It was hard to take in, all these secrets and lies. He was taking a huge risk by telling her, and it was a responsibility she found hard to bear. He was one of the most talented, instinctive riders in the sport, but what he had done would be career-ending if word ever got out.
He let out another hollow laugh now, as sad as a fox bark. ‘When the police picked me up at Auckland International twenty-four hours later, I thought someone had shopped me for doping horses. They’d already been to my place and found a load of illegal drugs in the incinerator. Then they started bandying the word “murder” around and I freaked out. A lot of people had seen me and Dad drinking together the previous night, they’d seen me hand money over and us arguing. His girlfriend swore blind he must be dead, spouting a lot of shit about me coming after him for having a bust-up with Mum. It was enough evidence for the police to detain me and then stop me leaving the country. Of course they couldn’t hope to make any sort of murder charge stick, but they still wanted to get me for the drugs and malpractice. I was held in custody for as long as they could get away with. Finally, they decided against bringing any charges. Turns out nobody would turn evidence against me after all, not even my greatest rivals. I guess winning the country a medal has its good points.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘Finally I got my passport back and flew here. Lemon covered for me.’
‘He knew all along?’
‘Only about the racing industry stuff. He’s been involved in that side a long time, and he got me into it in the first place. When I quit vet work to turn professional I tried to clean up my act – both our acts – but it never make any difference to Lem. He was still dealing drugs and doping right up until we left Auckland.’
‘And you brought him here? We trust him with all our horses!’
‘He wouldn’t do anything to harm them.’ He shook his head. ‘Lem’s not the problem. It’s his boss who might be a murderer.’
‘Don’t say that.’
‘Why not? It could be true, couldn’t it? They haven’t found a body and until my dad turns up, I might have bloody killed him for all I know.’ He buried his face in his hands.
‘But he was alive when you left.’
‘I drugged the man to oblivion and then abandoned him.’
Tash reached across the table and took his hands. They were shaking so hard that she had to grip them tightly, feeling their size and weight, twice that of hers, the nails bitten down to nothing.
‘Christ, Tash,’ – his dark eyes lifted to look at her – ‘do you think I killed him?’
‘No!’ Scraping her chair back, Tash rushed around the table to wrap her arms around those wide, shaking shoulders. ‘Of course you didn’t.’ The truth was, she didn’t know.
Yet she cradled relief to her chest as she hugged him, certain that Lough’s confession must be one of the ‘nights we regret’ Hugo had alluded to before he left for the States. That was the secret the two men shared, so dark and threatening that Hugo had tried to protect her from it, wanting her kept apart from the New Zealander at all costs while he was away and fearing for her safety until he could assess the situation. But Lough had a fierce heart and great honour, and she didn’t doubt his integrity. Hugo’s fears were groundless, as he would soon find out. She was incredibly proud that he’d stuck his neck out to take a risk for this talented rider. It was typical of his generosity and guts. She couldn’t wait for Hugo to get home and see that Lough was such a safe and trusted part of Haydown life.
Chapter 49
Sheltering from the rain beneath the courtyard arch, Beccy stared across at the glowing Haydown kitchen window and shivered, her teeth chattering and her head pounding. She could clearly see Tash with her arms around Lough, framed perfectly by Queen Anne sash-work. It was like watching a scene from a sugary feel-good movie, but this particular tableau didn’t make Beccy feel at all good. She felt like Cyrano watching Roxane and Christian getting together. She wanted another genre, crime, war or even sci fi; a space ship swoo
ping down to gobble Tash up and spirit her off to Mars would be ideal.
Beccy pulled her dressing gown tighter and wished she’d put on more than just a fluffy bathrobe and Ugg boots. She felt as though she’d been dropped in a tank of ice cubes. The rain was turning to hail to match her mood.
Watching the embrace made her jealous heart split – one half for Hugo, one half for Lough. How dare Tash get them both?
She wanted to run in and scream at them, but of course she had too many shameful secrets of her own to risk exposure.
She tied her dressing-gown cord tighter and went back up to the flat to knock on Lemon’s door before walking straight in, desperate for distraction.
Lem quickly shut his laptop, looking shifty. ‘Jeez, you made me jump, yeah?’
Beccy’s lip wobbled.
‘You want a hug, I suppose?’ He sounded snappy and defensive, as though she’d just barged in to borrow a fiver.
She shrugged, not caring what website he’d been looking at. She was sure it could contain nothing worse than what she’d just witnessed. Her lips were wobbling out of control now.
With a sigh Lemon padded across the room, arms outstretched. She sank gratefully into them, feeling his hard little wrestler’s body against hers, a rock in her stormy sea.
‘Whassamatter?’ He rubbed her back.
Falteringly, she told him what she had just seen. ‘Hugo should know what Tash and Lough are up to behind his back,’ she finished tearfully.
‘Leave Lough out of this.’
‘What do you owe him?’ she sobbed. ‘He’s horrible to you most days. You could get a better job grooming for someone else over here. We both could.’ She loved the idea of running away with Lemon, who had been so kind recently, who sometimes even seemed to be able to see right into her muddled mind.
‘We’d never get a flat as good as this one,’ he deflected.
She put on her best suburban-housewife voice: ‘We’ve got the place just how we want it.’
‘We’re like an old married couple.’ He tried a voice to match. ‘I love tinkering with my mains pipe, and you like to dust your knickknacks with the curtains drawn.’