by Dilys Xavier
‘Come to think of it,’ Gary said, pacing the room again, ‘I've had suspicions for some time that things weren't quite right with the farm. I’d noticed that fertilizer, seed, and other stuff wasn't arriving on time, but I thought maybe it hadn’t been ordered for some reason. Funny how you get these feelings, isn't it?’
‘Why didn't you say something to me, Gary? If I’d had an inkling of any problem, I might have been able to help in some way, although I don't know how.’ Maria sniffled, nervously twisting a wisp of hair around her finger as she spoke. ‘I hate to think of Gramps carrying all this worry on his own while I was away.’
Gary leaned forward, concern clouding his usually bright eyes. ‘It’s just as well you didn’t know. It wouldn't have helped while you were in the middle of finals.’ He patted her hand fondly. ‘I can understand your grandfather not telling you, and he was right not to burden you with worry at such a time.’ Gary’s eyes brightened as he ran his work-stained fingers through his mop of hair. ‘I can see now how it all falls into place, but there's got to be a way to save the day.’ He thumped his fist on the table. ‘How much did you get for your paintings?’
‘Three hundred for the grey pony, and five hundred and fifty for the one of My Chance, minus commission and payment for the frame.’
‘That's eight hundred altogether.’ Gary bit on his knuckles as he considered the problem.
‘But I already owe Mr Tanner a lot for paints and canvas.’
‘Okay,’ he said, punching the air with his fist, ‘so the small painting covers your debt, and the other?’ He paused, waiting for the answer.
‘To do with as I wish. Why?’ There was a bewildered look on her face. ‘Gary, that's peanuts; nowhere near enough for the kind of money trouble we have. We must be in serious difficulties for Gramps to even consider an offer for My Chance. He knows how much I love that horse, but what else can he do?’
‘I thought My Chance was your horse.’
‘He is, but we're in need of cash, and if selling him is the only way around the problem, I don't have any option.’ She shook her head. ‘It seems there’s no other way. Gramps and I have talked about it, and he won't borrow from the bank. Can't say I blame him; we could get into further trouble by doing that.’ She closed her eyes for several seconds as though shutting out her problems. ‘It’s Chance's pedigree that makes him valuable. His bloodline has done so well and that, together with the fact he's a successful two year old, makes him very desirable, and already made as a racer.’
Gary rubbed his fingers over the light stubble on his chin. ‘There's got to be a way.’ He went to the window and gazed across at Chance's stable, when the silence was shattered by a perfunctory rapping on the door.
Maria jumped. ‘Who on earth is that?’
Annoyed that their conversation had been interrupted at a vital point, Gary crossed the kitchen hurriedly and flung open the back door.
‘I knocked on the front door first, but had no answer. I'm terribly sorry to bother you like this,’ the apologetic voice clipped, ‘but I’ve mislaid my briefcase. I’m hoping I left it here.’ It was Phillip Carter, again, his expression plainly showing how upset he was.
Maria moaned quietly and turned her head away, her lack of welcome quite obvious as Gary ushered the man inside.
Carter continued in the same apologetic voice. ‘If it's not here I’m in serious trouble.’ He gazed intently at Maria. ‘I need the papers in that case; they’re very important.’
At that moment, Maria could almost feel sorry for him. ‘Take a seat while I look in the hall and dining room,’ she said curtly. ‘Maybe you took it with you when you went to look at my paintings there.’ She left Gary silently scrutinizing the man who was causing his friend so much strife. Within seconds, she returned and handed the slim black case to Phillip Carter without a smile or saying a word.
His relief was obvious. ‘Thank goodness,’ he said, running his tongue around dry lips. Maria was pleased she had found it, but could not help feeling some satisfaction that he had also experienced some worry, however slight compared with hers. His eyes rested on the coffee mugs, and now he had found his mislaid property, he seemed more relaxed and in no hurry to go.
Maria noticed his glance. ‘We’re having coffee. Would you like one?’ she asked politely, immediately reproaching herself for making him welcome.
‘I really would, thanks,’ he murmured. ‘That anxiety made my mouth dry.’
Conversation all but ceased, and although not the sort to deny anyone a drink, she didn’t want Phillip Carter to think she had offered him coffee as an encouragement to stay. Her coolness imparted the fact, and obviously sensing it, he drained his mug quickly, strolled over to the door and inclined his head. ‘I’m so sorry to have interrupted you, but thanks for the drink; it was much appreciated.’ His expression and the tone of his voice suggested he sensed he had interrupted a tete a tete.
His attitude irritated Maria. She wanted him out of her sight and out of her life. She watched as he bent his head to avoid the low door frame, yet again annoyed that she still admired the man’s looks. He popped his felt onto his thick hair at the usual rakish angle, and turned to give a polite salute. ‘I really am most grateful for this,’ he said, lifting the briefcase. He smiled, and left without glancing back.
‘Phew! So that's the man.’ Gary flopped on a chair. ‘Thinks a lot of himself, doesn't he?’ He shook his head in disapproval. ‘He's not what I'd call our sort.’
‘Not at all,’ Maria agreed, ‘and to think he has designs on My Chance frightens me stiff. In my opinion, he’s the kind who always gets what he wants.’ She buried her face in her hands as the thought filled her mind again.
‘Now stop worrying or you'll make yourself ill.’ Gary paced the room again. ‘Nothing’s happened yet, so let's do some constructive thinking.’ For a minute neither spoke, then suddenly he slapped his thigh and wheeled around with a bright look in his eyes. ‘Got it!’
‘What d'you mean?’ Maria sat bolt upright, looking surprised.
Gary lifted his hand to calm her. ‘Listen,’ he urged. ‘I’ve thought of something, and if you're willing to take a chance, it could just work.’
‘You know I'd do anything to keep my horse.’ Maria's tone was determined. ‘Tell me what you've dreamed up.’ By now, her eyes were brighter than they had been all day.
‘Give me a piece of paper,’ Gary demanded excitedly, holding out his hand. For a couple of minutes he scribbled hurriedly and then thrust the paper into Maria's hand. ‘Look at that,’ he said, and folded his arms while he watched her reaction.
Maria stared at the mass of figures. ‘So?’ she said, looking puzzled. ‘What’s this?’
‘The next meeting at Chepstow is two weeks on Saturday, okay?’ He grinned, his voice was low and his tone confidential as though he were telling her a secret.
‘I know that,’ she said impatiently. ‘We’ve got season tickets for the races. You've got a ride at that meeting, and Gramps and I wouldn't dream of missing your last race of the season. You're up on Lucy's Lad, aren't you?’
‘That's right, Don Lock's horse,’ Gary nodded.
‘But what it's got to do with my problem?’
‘Everything,’ he said emphatically, ‘because I'm riding him to win.’
Maria threw back her head and laughed heartily, her chestnut hair gleaming gold in the shaft of sunlight that streamed in through the window. ‘Thanks for telling me,’ she said, full of mirth. ‘Gary, you’re the limit.’ Her eyes were twinkling at last and her mood was suddenly several shades lighter. ‘My apologies for laughing, but who can ever be sure of horses?’ She gave him a friendly nudge. ‘That laugh did me a power of good though, but come on, it's a wild idea and you must know Lucy’s Lad doesn't stand a chance.’
‘Exactly!’ Gary pursed his lips, his eyes glinting. ‘That's what everyone will be thinking, so the odds will be high.’ He swivelled round in his chair, and threw the piece of paper into the air.
‘In fact, he stands every chance of winning. You could come home with enough banknotes to paper this room.’ He chuckled, clapping, and rubbing his hands together as though he had already won.
‘I think you’re serious,’ Maria said, looking intently into his happy face.
‘Never been more serious. I've been surprised at the way Lucy's Lad has been jumping. He's improved fantastically, and punters are going to get a huge surprise.’ He punched the air and spoke in low tones again. ‘The fact he's had a long rest after leg trouble means he's not likely to be anywhere near favourite. And that,’ he emphasized, prodding the air wildly with his finger, ‘will be our strength.’ He fell silent while Maria studied the figures again.
She flicked the paper. ‘But Gary these figures are pure guess work.’
‘Admittedly, but it could mean a small fortune if you're willing to risk the money you had for the painting of My Chance. The money Carter afforded you.’
‘Risk it? It's a great idea.’ Maria whirled around the room. ‘It's laughable to think Phillip Carter's own money could stop him from owning My Chance.’ She turned to Gary excitedly. ‘Okay, I’ll stake it on your mount. And it doesn't matter a scrap if we don't pull it off. It's worth a try, and it’ll give me something else to think about.’ She winked. ‘I can always do another portrait of my beautiful horse.’
‘Of course, there’s a risk you’ll lose every penny. On the other hand,’ he shrugged and grinned widely at Maria, ‘we could pull it off.’
She wrinkled her nose expressively as she assured him. ‘I don’t care. I've got nothing to lose except a few painting hours.’ Her eyes held a faraway look as she thought about it. ‘Anyway, I'd rather lose it than have a penny of that man's money in my pocket.’
Still grinning, Gary cautioned her. ‘Keep this to yourself. We don't want others to back him. As you said, nothing’s a dead cert' on the racecourse, so let punters make up their own minds about which horse will win. Too many bets on Lucy's Lad would shorten the odds and drop your win.’
Maria clasped her hands together, the sparkle once more in her eyes. ‘It’s a super idea, and we won't say anything to Gramps either,’ she warned. ‘He doesn't mind the odd flutter, but he doesn't approve of sizeable bets. I'll tell him eventually, but only after we’ve won.’
‘My lips are sealed,’ Gary promised, as he made for the door. ‘I'll get cracking and finish that fence before your Gramps comes home.’
As Gary crossed the room to the door, Maria grasped his arm, a look of gratitude on her face. ‘You've lifted a weight off my shoulders,’ she murmured, ‘and my headache's gone.’
‘That's the way,’ he called, as he breezed through the door. ‘So no more worrying; it won't improve things.’
There was a smile on Maria’s lips as she cleared away the mugs. At least there was a chance now that the situation could alter. She looked up when a few minutes later the door opened and in walked her grandfather. ‘Hello’, she greeted cheerily.
‘I thought Gary would have finished that fence by now,’ he grunted, shuffling across the room and slumping wearily into his armchair.
‘Cheer up,’ Maria said, taking both of his hands affectionately in hers. ‘It's not the end of the world if he doesn’t. The job will keep.’
He looked up at her with worried eyes, and studied her face carefully. ‘What's up with you? You suddenly seem a lot happier.’
‘No point in staying miserable,’ she said, trying to sound casual, ‘but I can’t stop to chat now Gramps, or there’ll be no dinner tonight.’ Her eyes widened as she wondered what he would say if he knew what she was hoping to do. Maria hummed as she popped the pans of vegetables onto the stove, and there was vitality in the way she moved around the kitchen.
‘Dinner won't be long,’ she sang out, picking up the newspaper to read while she waited for the vegetables to cook. She peeped cautiously from behind the paper for a sneaky look at her grandfather's face, but he noticed it and gave her a knowing look.
‘Come on, lass, out with it!’ he demanded. ‘It's no use hiding behind that paper; you've got something up your sleeve, I'll wager.’
For a moment or two, Maria was silent, hoping he would let the remark pass unanswered but he was not that easily put off.
‘Well?’ He gave her a meaningful look.
‘That's just it, Gramps, a wager,’ she said, hesitatingly.
‘A wager?’
‘Yes, I'll tell you after dinner, okay?’ Her mouth twisted in a smile, and her eyes shone with the brightness that comes from a little ray of hope.
‘If you say so. Whatever it is, it seems I don't have any choice.’ He wore a worried expression the whole time he sat waiting, only relaxing when Maria called him to the table.
‘Enjoy your soup, Gramps. The rest will be ready in minutes.’
Throughout the meal, Maria avoided any conversation about Phillip Carter and My Chance, and as soon as they finished eating she moved to a more comfortable chair.
‘Gramps,’
‘Yes, my dear?’ He paused, eyes wide as he waited expectantly.
‘I'm putting a little bet on an outsider at the next race meeting.’
Charles Cable's expression became more serious. ‘Now why are you telling me this? Don't you do anything silly, Maria. I don't want you to lose any money; it's hard to come by these days.’
‘I just want a bit of fun, that's all. I’ll put something on Gary's ride to make the race more interesting. I usually do anyway.’ Maria watched his eyebrows lift.
‘Ah, yes, Gary's ride.’ Then he looked up, his spoon poised half-way. ‘Hey, you know that horse has been off the course for ages with leg trouble, don't you?’
‘Yes, but I’m still going to have a little bet on him. It's the last hurdle race of the season, and Gary won't be riding again until the autumn; he doesn't have a license to ride in the summer flats.’
Charles Cable groaned quietly, but gave an understanding look. ‘Well, I won't deny you that, but be careful.’
Maria heaved a sigh of relief, deciding it would be wise to say no more. But, she thought, if the horse wins, I’ll have to tell the truth about the size of the bet. She gave a deep sigh. I'll meet that problem when it comes. While they ate there was practically no conversation, and once the meal was over, Gramps rose stiffly from his chair, and stretched his limbs. ‘I hope Gary does well. He's a decent, conscientious lad who deserves every success.’ As he made for the door, he turned around. ‘I think you should get off to bed early tonight, lass. There's another long day ahead of us, and it's getting late.’
Maria felt sad for the lonely widower as she watched him shuffle to the room where the large squashy red chairs were. ‘Try not to worry Gramps,’ she said, following, ‘it's not going to alter things. There’s no point in staying down in the dumps over anything.’
Charles Cable eased himself onto the edge of a chair. ‘All right.’ There were a few minutes of thoughtful silence, then he murmured. ‘It’d be great if Gary won. It's a long shot, but I hope he pulls it off, he's such a good lad.’
Maria wondered if he was thinking along the same lines as she and Gary, but she felt confident he had no idea about their plan. For the first time in days, Charles Cable's weathered face creased in smiles at her lightened mood, and he settled back comfortably, gazing with adoration at his only grandchild. Maria gave him a big hug. ‘That's enough nonsense, lass,’ he scolded.
She looked fondly at him. ‘I'm going to bed now, and you should have an early night too, so goodnight and sleep well.’ Within minutes, Maria slipped gratefully under her pink duvet and snuggled down hoping to get to sleep soon. But it was difficult; her brain raced, bringing vivid pictures of recent happenings, making her relive her fears and sorrows. Her mind was in such a turmoil she wondered if sleep would ever come. Hard work and tension had taken its toll. It had been an exhausting day.
Morning dawned with a shaft of sunlight breaking its way through a chink in Maria's rose velvet curtains, a
nd as it gently touched her face, she responded, leaping from bed refreshed and ready for a new day. ‘Good morning,’ she said cheerfully, as she met her grandfather on the landing. ‘It looks as though it'll be a scorcher today.’
Charles Cable nodded, giving an almost inaudible sigh as he shuffled past, his lean form slightly bent through worry. She wanted to tell him there was a chance that everything was going to be all right, but she knew it would be foolish. Instead, she watched him disappear into the bathroom. There was nothing she could do to help him feel any different. Not yet anyway.
Gramps came downstairs as the softened blurp of the phone arrested her thoughts.
‘Will you take it?’ he asked, flopping onto his old easy chair in the corner of the kitchen. ‘I don't feel like talking to anyone right now.’
‘Trelawn 434634,’ Maria said, and frowned. ‘I'm sorry, who did you say it is? Oh! Just a moment, please.’ She had a sudden urge to slam the phone against the wall. This was just too much, particularly at breakfast time. With a scowl on her face, she placed a hand gently on Gramps' shoulder.
He looked up wide-eyed. ‘Well, who is it, my dear?’
‘That Phillip Carter. Don't let him keep you talking, Gramps,’ she hissed, covering the mouthpiece. ‘I like his nerve ringing so early; can't he let people have breakfast in peace before worrying them?’ Maria let out a deep sigh of annoyance. ‘I didn't ask what he wanted. That man's making a habit of spoiling our day; he’s turning up far too often.’ She gave her grandfather a gentle nudge. ‘Tell him we're busy; get rid of him fast.’
She thrust the phone into his hand then turned her attention to the breakfast that was sizzling appetisingly. The delicious smell of Welsh bacon filled the room, and when Maria dropped some farm-fresh eggs into the pan, they spat wildly in the hot fat so she could barely hear Gramps’ voice above the crackle. Two minutes later, the conversation was over and he was back in his chair, his mouth drawn in a grim line.
Maria placed the breakfasts on the table, her eyes fixed on her grandfather's face, her imagination giving her all sorts of ideas. She impatiently brushed back a wisp of hair and glared at him. ‘Well,’ she asked, ‘so what is it this time that couldn't wait?’