spared for the well-being of the seventy or so National Hunt inmates.
The stable block was slightly at odds with the rest of the Grange, Drew always thought, which was a moated flint manor-house, the home of the Seawards for generations. The addition of the racing stables had been Kath's first priority when she'd inherited the estate on the death of her elder brother. A last gesture of defiance in the face of the family who had been enraged that their only daughter had not married a high-ranking army officer and produced a brood of chinless wonders. A family, Drew gathered from Milton St John gossip, who had disowned their daughter years ago when it was clear that she would far rather have been born a man.
Kath had been working as an assistant trainer in Ireland, only returning to the village and the family home after all the Seawards were resting in St Saviour's churchyard. Lancing Grange stables were all the family she needed; the horses far more precious than any baby.
'Strikes me we're getting more and more like football and cricket,' she spoke suddenly, breaking the silence and peering at him again from beneath the cap's peak. 'You used to know where you were with the seasons. There was a respectable cut-off period. Football was in the winter, like jumping; cricket and the flat took up the summer. Now,' Kath glared as if the anomaly was Drew's entire responsibility, 'it's all merged into bloody one. What with all-weather tracks and summer jumping and all that crap. And the owners expect you to enter their damn horses all year round if there's any chance of a piddly bit of money at the end of it! Bloody fools! You can't get through to them that the poor sods have worked their guts out for months – they need a break like the rest of us.'
'Tell me about it,' Drew said with heartfelt sympathy. 'You should try running a mixed yard. I don't know whether I'm supposed to be at Ascot or Chepstow half the time. And, to be honest, I haven't got enough really good horses to justify either at present. I'm only going to be able to keep both sides running for another twelve months at the most. If I don't start earning some decent money, one of them is going to have to go.'
'I'm not surprised. A mixed yard would be far too complicated for me, too. It's pretty ambitious, even for a hardened professional.' Kath knotted the tails of her shirt above filthy riding breeches, exposing several inches of scrawny flesh. 'Is that why you've walked across the village on a Sunday morning? Do you want my advice? Okay then, for what it's worth, I'd say give up the jumping. You know there's more money on the flat – even if the Arabs don't currently think so. Is that what you want to hear?'
'Not really. Although it's what I've been thinking. I grabbed the opportunity to visit because I've got technology problems, and I've called Holly in to sort it out. I needed to escape before I hurled the computer through the window.' He rubbed his eyes wearily. 'I know your yard's full, so I thought you might have had to turn someone away. I just wondered if you'd been approached by anyone with a dead cert or twenty who's looking for a trainer for Cheltenham or Aintree.'
'Aintree!' Kath bristled. 'Don't know how you've got the gall to mention bloody Aintree after what Somerset did!'
Drew grinned. 'Sorry. Very insensitive of me.'
'Bloody stupid of you. And why should I put any good things your way after what Somerset did, eh? Haven't even been able to talk to the useless sod since the National,' Kath growled. 'He seems to vanish like the bloody mist every time I enter the paddock, he turns tail out of the pub every time I walk in, and his damn answerphone is always on. I nearly caught up with the bastard at the Sedgefield meeting, but –'
'He's only obeying orders. I told him to lie low as I need him fully fit for the rest of the season. I thought you might try emasculating him.'
Kath looked as though she was going to explode. 'Castration would be too
The stable block was slightly at odds with the rest of the Grange, Drew always thought, which was a moated flint manor-house, the home of the Seawards for generations. The addition of the racing stables had been Kath's first priority when she'd inherited the estate on the death of her elder brother. A last gesture of defiance in the face of the family who had been enraged that their only daughter had not married a high-ranking army officer and produced a brood of chinless wonders. A family, Drew gathered from Milton St John gossip, who had disowned their daughter years ago when it was clear that she would far rather have been born a man.
Kath had been working as an assistant trainer in Ireland, only returning to the village and the family home after all the Seawards were resting in St Saviour's churchyard. Lancing Grange stables were all the family she needed; the horses far more precious than any baby.
'Strikes me we're getting more and more like football and cricket,' she spoke suddenly, breaking the silence and peering at him again from beneath the cap's peak. 'You used to know where you were with the seasons. There was a respectable cut-off period. Football was in the winter, like jumping; cricket and the flat took up the summer. Now,' Kath glared as if the anomaly was Drew's entire responsibility, 'it's all merged into bloody one. What with all-weather tracks and summer jumping and all that crap. And the owners expect you to enter their damn horses all year round if there's any chance of a piddly bit of money at the end of it! Bloody fools! You can't get through to them that the poor sods have worked their guts out for months – they need a break like the rest of us.'
'Tell me about it,' Drew said with heartfelt sympathy. 'You should try running a mixed yard. I don't know whether I'm supposed to be at Ascot or Chepstow half the time. And, to be honest, I haven't got enough really good horses to justify either at present. I'm only going to be able to keep both sides running for another twelve months at the most. If I don't start earning some decent money, one of them is going to have to go.'
'I'm not surprised. A mixed yard would be far too complicated for me, too. It's pretty ambitious, even for a hardened professional.' Kath knotted the tails of her shirt above filthy riding breeches, exposing several inches of scrawny flesh. 'Is that why you've walked across the village on a Sunday morning? Do you want my advice? Okay then, for what it's worth, I'd say give up the jumping. You know there's more money on the flat – even if the Arabs don't currently think so. Is that what you want to hear?'
'Not really. Although it's what I've been thinking. I grabbed the opportunity to visit because I've got technology problems, and I've called Holly in to sort it out. I needed to escape before I hurled the computer through the window.' He rubbed his eyes wearily. 'I know your yard's full, so I thought you might have had to turn someone away. I just wondered if you'd been approached by anyone with a dead cert or twenty who's looking for a trainer for Cheltenham or Aintree.'
'Aintree!' Kath bristled. 'Don't know how you've got the gall to mention bloody Aintree after what Somerset did!'
Drew grinned. 'Sorry. Very insensitive of me.'
'Bloody stupid of you. And why should I put any good things your way after what Somerset did, eh? Haven't even been able to talk to the useless sod since the National,' Kath growled. 'He seems to vanish like the bloody mist every time I enter the paddock, he turns tail out of the pub every time I walk in, and his damn answerphone is always on. I nearly caught up with the bastard at the Sedgefield meeting, but –'
'He's only obeying orders. I told him to lie low as I need him fully fit for the rest of the season. I thought you might try emasculating him.'
Kath looked as though she was going to explode. 'Castration would be too
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