Dream Valley
Authors: Paddy Cummins
Dream Valley
The Price of Paradise
Paddy Cummins
Dream Valley
Jenny seemed to have everything.
Fearless and talented in the saddle. Brilliantly distinguished in the boardroom. Beautiful and sensational in the bedroom. She was still unfulfilled, searching. Why?
Her handsome, doting husband, Dr. Ken McKevitt, knew the
answer. Devastated by his failure, consumed with intense possessive love, he tried desperately to hold on to her.
Garry Wren, a stunning young racehorse trainer had just 'arrived' in the picturesque Dream Valley, an idyllic location for his new
stables.
Fate played its devastating hand in locking all three together in an intriguing and turbulent saga, finding Jenny her elusive fulfilment, and her husband, his long sought peace of mind.
The reward was great, but the cost was even greater.
It was one of those special mornings. The clock in her head didn't trust the clock by the bedside; wins the race to wake her up by fifteen minutes.
Jenny eased back the blankets on her side, slipped quietly out. It was a technique she had perfected; couldn't be interrupting Ken's soft snoring drones at this hour of the morning. Poor thing, drained again after another late night at the clinic.
"Sweet dreams, Darling,"
she whispered.
Switching the alarm button on the clock radio to off, she
noted the little red digits said 06.15 AM. Great timing - just perfect.
Tip-toeing across the large bedroom without a sound was another little trick she had mastered. The coolness, as she slipped through the
curtains of the big bay window made her shiver slightly; she didn't mind. It was refreshing, a chance to get a glimpse of the morning, and a quick update on the weather. Clearing a circle of condensation from the glass, she looked to
the sky. It was still very dark. To her left she could see the familiar pale reflection of the city lights in the distance, overhead, a couple of bright stars, flickering now, but soon to disappear with the breaking dawn.
The wall lanterns at each side of the front door cast their
dim light across the tarmac and down the lawns, fading into darkness before reaching the rose-beds. It was a quiet and tranquil scene, and for a moment Jenny reflected on her great gift of health and wellbeing, felt grateful to be
able to stand there alone in the beautiful solitude of the morning and welcome in this special new day.
The weather looked promising too. Crisp and dry, with a little dust of white frost which would soon be gone, and hardly a breeze to
rustle the birch trees at each side of the lawns. It was perfect weather for a big day's hunting, a day she was eagerly looking forward to, packed with thrills and adventure - she was feeling the excitement already.
Since returning to the saddle at the start of the hunting season, she had three really great days out. After all the years away from it, it wasn't easy. Crippled after the first day, less so, after the second and third - still plenty of pain and stiffness - now she felt great, fit and
supple, and even her 'bottle', a bit suspect earlier, was back to its very best.
She was really enjoying this new lease of life; the challenge, the adventure, the freedom, and was only now discovering how much
she had missed it. Five years of marriage went nowhere near compensating for the loss of this wonderful feeling, and although she knew she had lots of ground to make up, she felt totally happy and vindicated with her decision to
return, and was determined to make the most of it.
To-day was the big one. Her first hunt with the legendary Kildare's, her first experience of the famous Punchestown country. It was so exciting to think of riding that tough and testing terrain, its massive banks
and fences, and her only concern was if her little horse was up to it - she certainly was, and couldn't wait to get there.
On hunting mornings, mostly on Saturday's, she usually donned old jeans, boots and sweater, and set off for Andy Leahy's stables to
prepare her horse, before returning to dress up in her hunting attire. This being Wednesday, it was different. Two hours of early work at the office was the price she was happy to pay for the rest of the day off. It was really no
big deal - she herself was the head of the department - but it was just a better feeling to do it this way. Cheryl, her secretary, would fill her shoes, and it would keep the big chief, Don Lenihan, off her back to-morrow.
Down in the large modern kitchen, she clicked on the florescent lighting, illuminating the lime green décor, the gleaming tiles and worktops, and the myriad of stainless steel fittings. It was bright and cheerful, but with the central heating not due to cut in 'till seven, it felt a
bit chilly. Having finished her bowl of grapefruit segments, she scribbled a note to Ken, while sipping her black coffee.
'Hunting to-day, Dear ... Had to go to the office first
... Talk to you later ... Love J'
About to leave it on the table, she had second thoughts, returned to the bathroom and stuck it in the centre of the mirror. He'll get it quicker there, recover from the jolt sooner. Shame I didn't get a chance to
tell him last night. But then, how was I to know that Dr Wynn's wife's baby would decide to arrive early, and Ken, always the considerate and generous soul, would volunteer to extend his roster, and take Dr Wynn's place for most
of the night.
It took almost the two miles to Andy Leahy's stud farm for the heater to dry off the windscreen, but she could feel the warmth in the car as she drove into the wide entrance between the two large granite piers, down
by the hay-shed and over towards the stable yard. She wondered would Andy be up and about - she hoped not. He was getting on a bit now. When she told him she was coming at seven, she insisted that he was not to get up early on her
account, but knowing Andy, she wasn't sure. He had been like a father to her since they first met - a real star - and she was very grateful. It was brilliant to be given the use of his stable and facilities, with one condition that 'payment was out of the question.' She was determined to avoid knocking
him about in any way.
To Andy, Jenny knew she was special - she could have his right arm if she wanted it. He always seemed to enjoy chatting to her. She knew all about his life, his family, his feelings. Those old stables were his pride
and joy - in the family for several generations - and he made sure to lovingly preserve their old character and charm.
'When I'm gone, it'll be up to Joe,' he'd say.
Jenny sensed that Joe might have other ideas. A graduate in Agricultural Science, working with a big food company, he was being sent on a two year course to America. Andy had mixed feelings - will miss him a lot - but Madge was quietly pleased to see her only son make such a promising career for
himself - he wouldn't have to depend solely on the uncertainty of the stud farm for his livelihood.
As she drove under the archway, into the cobbled stone yard, she felt that strange sensation again. It must be the old ghosts of the past,
she thought, reminding her she was going back in time to some old world of comfort and pleasure. She loved it. It had a calming, reassuring effect, a relaxing atmosphere of peace and tranquillity.
The horses seemed to sense Jenny's presence. All appeared at the same time over their half-doors to greet her with a welcoming chorus of horse-talk. She paused for a few moments, soaking up the pleasure of it all. This was a different world, with a unique ambience, and a million miles from the
high powered culture and pressures of her day job.
All around her was equine history and tradition. The old stone-walled stables covered with ivy, like works of art, the dark slated
roofs, leaning out to form a canopy over the horses heads, the black stable doors adorned with their old world wrought iron hinges. Looking up at the grey dome of the morning sky, she smiled at the old weathercock swivelling proudly
on the gable end, still faithfully indicating the wind direction after all those years.
Perched on the other end was the old clock tower, now tilted slightly, its clock mechanism long retired from its former duties. The rectangular design of the terraced stabling gave the horses on each side a full
frontal view of the others. They could also enjoy the beautiful little centre circle, now a mass of full bloom daffodils, adding a lovely touch of spring elegance - and a reminder of Andy's true affinity with nature.
The large stable at the top corner was still empty. That's the stallion box, Andy had told her, and joked that its occupants over the years had always been given V.I.P treatment - they paid the bills and enjoyed
doing it. Sadly, the most recent tenant died of a heart attack while covering a mare -
"what a way to go,"
thought Jenny. Andy assured her he would manage to replace him in time for the new covering season, adding light-heartedly, 'the show must go on.'
Poker, the little grey horse, was louder than the others in his greeting of Jenny, as if he knew it was a hunting day, and exhilaration and excitement lay in store. She had enjoyed riding him since Andy sold him to her
at the start of the season. A really safe and genuine little horse to ride, he was the ideal type for her when she started hunting again after such a long break. He had been a true friend in helping her back to the love of her life. But he was now fifteen, and while she was getting fitter and more saddle
ambitious, poor Poker was beginning to feel his age. Jenny knew very well what she now required: a younger, livelier, more quality-bred horse, a hunter with a lot of fiery blood in him that would match her rediscovered riding flair and
thrill seeking adventure. Poker would be fine for the remainder of the hunting season. She would then have the whole summer to find a new horse and prepare for next year.
'Don't be silly, Poker, you know I haven't time for your
messing this morning.'
He had his head in the pot before she could get the oats in.
'Eat all that now ... you'll need it before evening.'
Having checked his shoes - which were fine - she gave him a
quick rub over with the dandy brush, careful not to get too much dust on her suit, and with an impish pull of his ear - which he hated - and a pat on his rump, she left him. 'Cheers, Boy ... see you later.'
It was ten past seven. Good timing - should hit the office by half seven. Jenny swung the Mondeo around the daffodil laden centre circle. Straightening for the archway she was surprised to see Andy entering the yard. A small slight man, about five foot seven, no more than ten stone, he walked
with a slight limp - the old left hip showing the wear and tear of his sixty-four years.
'Morning Jenny ... everything okay?'
Fine Andy ... just fed Poker.'
'Good, good,'
As he got closer, he looked admiringly at Jenny.
'Be gor Jenny, you look very elegant to-day ... if you don't mind me saying so.'
'Oh, thanks, Andy ... you don't look too bad yourself
either.'
'Ah, sure I'm always the same, Jenny'
'Anyway, Andy, I'm on my way to the office for a couple of hours work before I go hunting. I'll be back here about eleven.'
'You needn't bother coming back here, Jenny, take your time. Joe is going hunting to-day, his last before he goes to America. There's a chap coming up from Kilkenny to see his mare hunting, and maybe buy her. We'll load
the two of them, and you can meet us at Punchestown gate at twelve o'clock.'
'Oh Andy, are you sure that won't be too much bother?'
'Not at all, Jenny ... sure we'll have all the time in the world ... it'll save you rushing.'
'Oh Andy, you're a star ... thanks a million.'
'You're more than welcome girl. Off you go now ... I'll see you later.'
Driving carefully down the narrow road that looped around
the green pasture of Andy's land, she noticed the little digital clock in the dash saying 7.20 AM.
'Damn it! That late?'
She checked her own watch.
I'll still be okay though ... that's if I don't get held up in traffic.'
Approaching the roundabout linking the Dublin dual carriageway, she was a split second too late to get on in front of a massive truck and low loader, with a mighty earthmover on top.
'Oh shit, just what I didn't need now ... I'll be stuck
behind this yoke for ages.'
As if he had heard her, the young, bright-eyed, smiling truck driver, leaning forward in his high cab, gestured with his hand to
'be my guest'
and roll on in front of him. She gratefully responded, giving him
a warm smile and a thumbs-up sign that said:
'Good on ye, me ould flower .. there's still a few gentlemen left.'
On the motorway now and cruising, Jenny's thoughts turned to
the most important gentleman in her life, and felt a bit guilty for the way she sometimes takes him for granted. It wasn't always like that. The intimacy of their loving relationship that used to be sheer bliss for Ken and herself was,
to say the least, a bit intermittent lately - she suspected he might have other words to describe it. It wasn't that either of them planned it that way; they were just too busy.
Ken's workload had trebled with the rapid expansion of the
Clinic. Her new executive role at Global Life - and now the horse riding - was cramming her life. She wasn't complaining. Why would she? She was now beginning to really enjoy herself after years of frustration, and she hoped that Ken
would see it that way too. Anyway, she would try her best to make it up to him whenever she could, and if at all possible, keep him happy and contented. He was the special one, and deserved all the love she could give him.
Ken spotted the little yellow note stuck to the mirror as he entered the bathroom. Its message didn't surprise him at all. He knew for a week that Jenny would be going hunting to-day. The hunt meetings were listed in the local paper every week, he mentally recorded them, and the dates stayed in
his mind. This would be her fourth outing, and while she was probably getting fitter and braver, he was getting more uneasy and concerned for her wellbeing. The fear and worry would linger all day, and wouldn't leave him until she was
safely home in the evening. He knew she was a capable rider and had a safe horse in Poker. As a doctor he also knew that hunting accidents were usually minor, with very few fatalities. Still, the danger was always there. A freak
accident can and sometimes did happen - he prayed it would never happen to Jenny.
Although blaming himself for her return to horse riding, he accepted that the passion for it was there since her childhood - she was likely
to want to return to it at some stage of her life. But he now firmly believed that it was his failure to give her the child she had craved since their marriage five years ago, that was motivating her now. It was her way of filling the massive void in her life that nothing else could fill. He felt the hot
sweat of anguish when he reflected on the irony of him dreading her return to the dangerous sport of hunting, while it was his failure in the most fundamental aspect of life that was driving her back to it.