Dead Lucky by Glenis Wilson

Author:Glenis Wilson [Wilson, Glenis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781448306824
Publisher: Severn House
Published: 2022-01-16T23:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-TWO

Dotted about in small groups, owners and trainers were standing chatting in the parade ring. A quick glance around showed me where I needed to be. Not only was the trainer, Barbara Maguire, waiting, but she was deep in conversation with another woman. A tall, slender blonde who was dressed in a full-length black coat complete with knee-high black boots and topped off with – I could have put money on it – a tiny sugar-pink fur hat. It couldn’t be anyone else but Dame Isabella Pullbright. She’d obviously found time, or made it, in her exacting schedule to be here and see for herself what sort of performance her mare put in.

I made my way across the grass towards them.

Dame Isabella turned her head and looked at me, at exactly the same moment as I, drinking in the undeniably delightful picture she made, was staring at her. The famous wide smile – eat your heart out, Julia Roberts – flashed across her face. Putting out a hand, she tapped Barbara’s arm and nodded towards me. Then, unable to stop herself, she laughed out loud.

‘Snap!’

Barbara and I both smiled back. There we stood, owner and jockey, both dressed alike as racegoers, getting in on the act, began enthusiastically clapping with amusement.

Dame Isabella bent forward, whispering in my ear. ‘I’m not sure picking these colours was quite such a good idea …’

‘Nonsense,’ I replied, momentarily overwhelmed by her beauty and beguiling perfume at such close quarters. ‘We make the perfect couple.’

There were immediate wolf whistles and guffaws from the crowd lining the rails who had caught what I’d said.

‘He means himself and the mare, of course,’ she said, raising her voice so they could hear her. ‘See, she’s wearing a pink brow band.’ And Dame Isabella pointed to the mare’s forehead that was adorned with a flashy bright pink band.

That only served to incite more whoops and laughter. It was the custom with some owners to incorporate their colours into brow bands for their horses when they were about to run in a race. Into these moments of merriment, whether we were ready for it or not, the bell rang and instructions, which had to be obeyed, were called out: ‘Jockeys please mount.’

Sydney, Barbara’s stable lad, walked Dark Vada from the circling track over the grass into the centre of the parade ring.

‘Wow.’ Dame Isabella’s eyes widened in admiring appreciation. ‘What a lot of hard work you’ve put in,’ she said to him. ‘The mare looks wonderful. I’m not surprised you won the “Best turned-out”. Thank you.’ She patted Dark Vada’s glossy shoulder.

Sydney smiled with pleasure and I silently applauded the woman for taking time in the midst of all the excitement she must be feeling as a first-time owner to acknowledge the stable lad who looked after the horse at least six days a week. Without stable lads’ hard work, racing wouldn’t take place. Not only did they work hard, they were very poorly paid. One of the coveted perks was winning ‘Best turned-out’ which carried a cash prize.

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