At Long Odds (A Racing Romance) Read Online Free Page B

Kennedy, his racehorse trainer.’
    ‘He’s not in the office at present, Miss Kennedy. Would you like to leave a message?’
    Ginny tutted in annoyance.
    ‘Just tell him I rang. Thank you.’ Ginny slammed down the phone and wrenched open one of the desk drawers, bouncing pens onto the floor. She snatched up her father’s Filofax. Glancing up, she could see one of the lads already opening Shaman’s stable. Skimming through the pages, she found the mobile number for Basil Forrester, to be used only in emergencies. This was definitely one.
    ‘Basil Forrester,’ an abrupt gruff voice answered the call.
    ‘Mr Forrester, it’s Virginia Kennedy at Ravenhill Stables –’
    ‘Ah, Miss Kennedy,’ he interrupted. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you.’ His tone was almost accusatory.
    ‘What’s this about, Mr Forrester?’ Ginny said, refusing to apologise. ‘I’ve got three of Julien Larocque’s staff here wanting to remove your horses.’
    ‘That’ll be correct. Hold on. Jones, use your five iron, chap.’
    Ginny’s nostrils flared as she inhaled a lungful of annoyance.
    ‘Look, Miss Kennedy, I’m sure you’ve realised my three have very bright futures ahead of them, the colt especially. And, this being his most important season as a three-year-old, I’m sure you can appreciate I don’t want to take any risks.’
    ‘Yes, of course but –’
    ‘You, I’m afraid, are a risk and I’m not going to jeopardise my chances by your inexperience.’
    ‘I’m hardly inexperienced,’ Ginny spluttered. ‘I was born into racing. My father is Jim Kennedy –’ A loud ‘FORE!’ interrupted her and she took another deep breath. ‘Mr Forrester, I’m sure my father wouldn’t have left Ravenhill Stables for me to run unless he was absolutely sure I was capable. And should I, at any point, make a mistake, he is always here to correct me –’
    ‘If you make a mistake, Miss Kennedy, the damage will already have been done. I’ve made my decision. Shanghai Dancer, Storm Chaser and Shaman are going to Larocque. I’ll be expecting my last bill at the end of the month.’
    ‘Mr Forrester –’ Ginny tried to intervene, but he had already rung off. ‘I’m not done with you,’ she growled and hit Redial.
    ‘ The number you have called is unavailable …’ Ginny swore and slammed down the phone. She ran to the door, in time to see her three best horses being led out of the yard. They all walked happily away at this unusual jaunt in the middle of the afternoon, oblivious to their fate. Shanghai Dancer pointed his toes and jogged sideways, the sun bouncing off his golden rump. Ginny watched her Classic hopes disappear beneath the brick archway and out of Ravenhill Stables.
    And into bloody Larocque’s clutches, she thought, her fists clenching and her mouth forming a grim line.
    *
    Ginny left it as late as she could before returning to the house, but as darkness settled like a miserable damp blanket over the yard, she couldn’t put it off any longer. Gloomily, she left the office and went to break the news to her father. She found him in his usual armchair, studying Saturday’s form in the Racing Post .
    ‘Hey, Dad,’ Ginny chirped and sat down next to her father. She wouldn’t say she was a naturally negative person but upholding this air of optimism she decided ranked right up there with her fourth grade nativity play performance when she’d forgotten her four lines, tripped over the polystyrene-carved sheep and referred to Mary by her real name rather than her character’s name.
    ‘Lovie,’ Jim acknowledged, lowering his newspaper. He looked at her suspiciously, a seasoned expert on Ginny’s poor acting abilities.
    ‘So, do you want the good news or the bad news?’
    ‘Let’s go with the bad first.’
    ‘Well, there’s no easy way to say this,’ Ginny began, fiddling with a stray thread on the arm of the sofa. She took a deep breath. ‘But, um…Basil Forrester has removed his