Authors: Paddy Cummins
'Well,' said Bart, 'The real truth is that she is and she isn't.'
She was puzzled. He explained.
'You may not know this, but my wife had quite a few horses
over the years. She loved music too, lived for it. In fact she named all her horses after musical instruments. There was Piccolo, Flute, Trombone, Trumpet and Banjo.'
'That's incredible,' gasped Jenny. What a brilliant idea.
She had wonderful imagination.'
'Oh, yes, she enjoyed that. Anyway, she was told when she called to buy this mare that her pet name was Monica.'
'That's right,' enthused Jenny, 'the Leahy's always called
her Monica.'
'Well, the naming forms were completed and ready to send away ...' he hesitated, 'she was going to post them in Waterford that day when she was killed.'
'Oh, that's terrible,' Jenny felt real sadness well up
inside her.
'Guess what the name was?' Neither could get it.
Harmonica!
'Well, that is amazing,' exclaimed Jenny, 'what a beautiful name. She'll never be called anything else ... that's for sure ... we'll send
in those forms next week.'
They went into the house to complete the sale. Jenny paid by cheque. Bart went to his study to write a receipt. Arriving back he handed it
to Jenny.
'Now there's her Passport too, and the naming forms.'
He then turned to Garry.
'That's for you, Garry, and thanks very much for everything.'
It was a large envelope. Opening it, he gasped. Wide-eyed,
and with genuine astonishment he protested to Bart.
'It's only a thousand pounds. I have more than I need. You're starting off ... you'll need it and much more. May God bless both of you
now, and the mare too. I hope she'll be really lucky for you, Jenny.'
'Oh, thank you very much,' replied Jenny, 'I know she will.'
Travelling back to the stables with 'Harmonica' enjoying the
spin in the horse trailer, Jenny and Garry were planning her future.
'This mare will win 'Point-to-Point's' and 'Hunter Chases' - she'll be just about ready in time for the coming season.'
'You really think so, Garry?'
'Yeah, she's the ideal type ... big, strong, well-balanced, and bred for the game.'
'Yes, she's all that ... and a lovely temperament.'
'She has ... a bit like her new owner,' he joked, now full
of confidence and venturing into the unknown.
'No way, laughed Jenny loudly. You don't know me at all, Garry, I'm as headstrong as a mule ... 'Harmonica' is the very opposite of me.'
'Well, I hope so. You'll make a good team then ... no point in both of you being timid. You haven't decided where you're going to train her ... are your new stables ready?'
She had expected the question - the answer was simple. She
had made up her mind the minute she entered Garry's yard. She knew he desperately wanted to train the mare - wouldn't deny him the opportunity. It was a strange twist of fate that brought them together: Garry, herself, and now this beautiful mare. Everything seemed to fit so perfectly as if designed that way. She turned towards him.
'You know very well where she's going to be trained, Garry.'
A wry smile and a quizzical look didn't fool Jenny.
'Ah, come on now Garry, don't give me that. What about that empty stable ...that didn't just happen by accident, did it?'
He burst into a joyous laugh.
'You have me, Jenny. You're too clever for me. Does that
mean that you're giving her to me to train?'
'What do you think, Garry?' She was really teasing him now.
'Oh, I'd be really delighted, Jenny.'
'Right then ... that's it ... done.'
Thanks a million, Jenny, I appreciate that ... I'll do a good job for you.'
'I know you will, Garry.'
Little Johnny and Emily had finished their work and had gone
home for their afternoon break. Jenny led 'Harmonica' out of the trailer and into her new stable. Looking happy and contented, she seemed to be enjoying her new surroundings. Jenny was happy too. To be back in the company of horses
again, to handle them, touch them, smell them and talk to them, felt like magic therapy, soothing her nerves, reviving her spirits, filling that aching, longing emptiness that depressed her when out of reach of those beautiful four-legged friends.
The stable door was wide, with the top open and clipped back against the wall. They had just about enough room to lean over the half-door and admire the mare as she sniffed her way around every corner of the stable. She looked a picture, all quality, with power and scope to match. They could
spend hours looking at her. Garry felt it was a great morning's work. Only a few hours since he chanced making that phone call to Jenny. He didn't expect this to be the outcome, and so soon. But he knew he wasn't dealing with any
ordinary woman. This one was special, a breath of fresh air, no hesitation, did her business in a flash.
She
had purchased the mare, but in reality, both of them had acquired her. He felt really grateful to this remarkable
beauty, now leaning so close to him.
Their minds were twinned in their hopes and ambitions for 'Harmonica.' He would train and ride her during the week - she would come down and ride work on Saturdays. They would have her ready for the early
'Point-to-Points.' Hopefully, she would win a couple and get qualified for the big Punchestown Festival. That was the plan - the target, the ultimate goal. Jenny would be the rider in all her races. That was the part that excited her
most. It would fulfil all her dreams. It sent shivers through her - just to think about it.
As they leaned over the half-door hatching their ambitious plans, both were conscious of their close proximity to each other. Their bodies
were brushing, their smells mingling, their bare arms touching, hers, smooth Florida-tanned, his, masculine, hair-covered. Inwardly, both felt the ripple of sweet electricity, outwardly, neither dared to acknowledge it. It was as if
both were allowing themselves a little reward, a little hidden pleasure in celebration of their new association, and in anticipation of glorious days ahead.
'Come on, time for coffee,' Garry moved in the direction of
the house.
'Super,' replied Jenny, as she followed him, entered beneath the thatch and got her first glimpse of 'his little nest.'
'Don't mind the place now, it's a bit untidy ... I wouldn't
be great at housework.'
He was happy with the way it was, others might not. What they might think didn't bother him. With Jenny though, it was different. He hoped she wouldn't be disappointed with him for the untidy state of the place,
waited for her first reaction.
'Oh, this is beautiful, Garry.' She was standing in the centre of the kitchen, circling around, admiring the ancient décor, the antique furniture, the authentic traditional atmosphere. 'This is the real thing, isn't
it? Those flag stones, the old open fireplace with the crane and the fan. And that dresser ... don't ever change it, Garry, it's beautiful.'
Relieved and flattered, he was delighted that she felt exactly as he did about the place. He had no intention of ever changing it. She
liked the coffee too. The chat flowed freely from each end of the old table. She soon had a lot of his background, found it all very interesting and fascinating. She wanted to hear more.
'Any girl friends at all, along the way?'
He swallowed, hesitated. 'Yes ... there was one ...' he paused again.
She felt sorry for asking - knew it was sensitive.
'Never mind, Garry ... probably a long story ... you can
tell me about it some other time.'
'Oh shit! look at the time! She stood up. 'Got to go, Garry ... it's a long spin back to Dublin.'
'It surely is.'
They walked to the car, she got in, lowered the window.
'So that's it then, Garry, you have another new owner.'
'Yes, a very special new owner ... thanks Jenny for everything ... this is going to work, I know it is. You, me and 'Harmonica' ...
we're on our way.'
That was sweet music to Jenny's ears.
'Let's shake on that.'
The handshake lingered a little longer than intended, giving
their eyes time to exchange inner feelings. Both understood the unspoken message, felt the tug of some invisible magnet. He watched as the Mondeo revved out of the yard and disappeared around the first turn of the lane.
* * *
Jenny split the curtains of her spare bedroom window, anxiously looked for sight of Ken's car. It wasn't there. She checked the time again: nine a.m. That's very odd. No sign of him when she returned from Kilkenny last night - still no sign of him - where could he be? Sitting on the
side of the bed, her mind filled with a mixture of emotions: concern, worry, fear, guilt. That row must have effected him a lot more than she thought. Maybe she went too far. If anything happened to him, she'd never forgive herself.
Perhaps she was a bit unfair to him - doing things without telling him. Now this new adventure would probably drive him crazy altogether. This was a real solo run. Buying a horse, making all those arrangements with
Garry. Plans to go to Kilkenny every week-end - and not a word to Ken - her husband. It couldn't be right. She felt guilty, not for what she had done, but for not handling it better.
What's wrong with you, Jenny? Where are your
brains? There must be ways and means of doing all those exciting things and keeping your husband happy at the same time. There has to be - otherwise the whole lot is doomed. That would be unthinkable - you just have to find a way, Jenny.
Still in a cloud of deep thought, deciding to seek the help
of a strong coffee, she descended the stairs and entered the kitchen. Stopping suddenly, she was stunned and startled at the sight of Ken slumped at the table. He looked awful, as if he had been there all night. He had. The four
empty coffee mugs said it clearly. The Aspirin bottle said something too - he had been drinking. His round of golf yesterday must have went to the nineteenth hole, got bunkered there, in the rough all night. She was relieved to see him.
It was also a bit funny: Ken usually so perfect and responsible - now looking like a drowned rat, nursing his massive hangover.
He seemed startled too, looked really embarrassed. It was the first time she saw him like that. They always drank together, were usually
in the same state of intoxication, enjoying it together, suffering the same joint hangovers. Now she was cold sober and he was suffering alone. He straightened up.
'I'm sorry, Jenny.'
'That's okay, Ken.' She was oozing confidence now. His little booze-up might be a blessing in disguise, an opportunity to straighten things out, make deals. He was the vulnerable one now.
'I'm sorry for everything, Jenny.'
'I said it's okay, Ken.'
'No, it's not okay, Jenny ... I want to say what I want to say, Jenny.'
'Alright, alright! Go ahead and say it then.'
'I'm sorry for getting drunk ... I'm sorry for the other
night ... that row we had ... I was unfair ... I was wrong ... I'm sorry, Jenny.'
'All right then,' she seized the opportunity, moved closer, stood over him. 'Now you listen to me, Ken. You hurt me the other night ...
hurt me badly ...'
'I said I'm sorry ... Jesus Jenny, what more can I say ... I'm sorry ... I'm sorry.'
'I know, I know ... but just listen to me ...'
He interjected again.
'If it's about the stables, Jenny ... you can go ahead and build them ... I'm not going to say anything anymore.'
She held her breath. This was getting better, unbelievably
better, she wanted to hear more.
'You can build you stables, ride your horses, do what you like. It's your hobby ... I realise that now ... so go ahead ... enjoy it.'
She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Was it the
drink - she hoped not. Obviously he has thought it all over. If this was real, it would be a whole new future, almost too good to be true.
'Do you really mean that, Ken? Seriously, honestly ... no messing.' She was determined to copper-fasten it.
'Yes, Jenny. Of course I mean it ... if not I wouldn't say it ... Christ, do you want me to write it down?'
'No, Ken. I accept your word. Is it alright then if I buy a horse to ride?' This would be the first test.
'I don't care if you buy a dozen horses, Jenny ... I've told you, I'm not getting involved ... you have your horses ... I'll have my golf ... It's as simple as that.'
'Thanks, Ken.'
'Thanks for what? Sure it was me that was wrong ... I've thought it all out ... it'll be different from now on.'
'Okay, we'll leave it at that then ... see how it works out.' She was elated, but didn't dare show it. Taking her coffee with her,
about to leave the kitchen, he called her back.
'Will you do me a favour?
Surprised and fearful that it might be the sting in the tail, she responded apprehensively.
'If I can.'
Would you drive me over to the Golf Club. Danny Logan drove me home last night ... I want to collect the car.'
'Okay. Throw a shape on yourself ... I'll be down in a
minute.'
Almost out the door, he called again.
'There's just one other thing.' He spoke meekly, almost child-like.
'Yes?'
'Would you come back into our bedroom to-night?'
She sighed deeply.
'I'll consider it on one condition.'
'What's that?'
'If you guarantee not to nag me about my horses or horse-riding ever again.'
'Agreed ... never again.'
'Okay then ... that's a deal.'
She believed him, and like all good gamblers, left while she was winning.
* * *
She threw an extra sweater on the back seat of the car as
she set off for South Kilkenny. The first real chill of the winter had arrived, the thin coating of white frost covering the lawn said it was time to increase the body-wrap.
This was Jenny's twentieth Saturday morning trip and it
still gave her that ripple of excitement, that itchy nervous tension, that warm inner sensation of knowing that she would soon be astride 'Harmonica,' savouring the beauty of Dream Valley, and basking in the sheer pleasure of riding beside Garry. It was a heavenly experience that kept her going all week,
an escape, an adventure, a pilgrimage, reviving her spirits, transforming her into a new woman.
To-day was extra special. Three weeks before Christmas, four
weeks before the first Point-to-Point race meeting of the season. Their schedule seemed to be on target. They would know for sure to-day as 'Harmonica' would be given her first real test: a searching two mile work-out with 'Spinning Top,' the fittest horse in the yard, and already a winner.
As the Ford Mondeo cruised through the plains of Kildare, Jenny was mentally taking stock, analysing the massive new sea-change her life had undergone. The big important factor was Ken. He was true to his word - no
interference, no nagging - just got on with his own life, resigned to accept things as they were, having lost his desire or ability to influence them. His visits to Dr Lucas were now history, he was playing more golf, and he seemed to be more relaxed and contented. This new Ken had definitely improved their
relationship - the old pressure was gone. They could now talk more freely, respect each other as individuals and friends, enjoy their separate hobbies, and live life to the full.
Garry was brilliant too. He was also true to his word. He was working wonders with 'Harmonica.' Each Saturday she could see the improvement. The lustre of her coat, the sharpness of her eye, and the strength bursting out through shining muscles. He certainly was a expert horse trainer.
He could train women too - that's for sure. That first day she met him in the flesh, something started to simmer inside her - she was sure he felt it too. It could have intensified, boiled over. It was him that steadied it, kept their
relationship business-like, professional, focussed on the exciting project they had embarked on. She appreciated his restraint, his mature control. It was a balancing act, wasn't easy, but it only increased her admiration for him. Their
closeness was growing steadily, maturely - just as they both wanted it.
'Harmonica' came through her test with flying colours. She beat 'Spinning Top' by an easy ten lengths. It was such a thrill. Jenny was
overcome with excitement as she strained to pull up. The mare could have gone another two miles - she felt like a machine. The blinding speed, the awesome strength, the enormous stride; it was an incredible display of sheer power that had Jenny breathless, stunned and astonished.
'That was a bit okay,' Garry chuckled, as a panting Jenny eventually pulled up and returned to join him and 'Spinning Top.' She was speechless. The mare was sweating, snorting, dancing, still overflowing with
exhilaration and adrenaline.
'That must be the understatement of the year, Garry. It was breathtaking ... unbelievable ... she's just brilliant.'
'I know. I always knew that. We had better slow down with
her. It's a long season ahead and it hasn't even started yet.'
Jenny agreed.
'We don't want her going over the top ... she has to peak for Punchestown.'
'Ah, she'll be okay ... the next few weeks will be all about
jumping. I'll start schooling her to-morrow. That'll keep her mind occupied ... no more fast work for a while.'
Back in the house over coffee they reviewed the programme. Both agreed that 'God willing' and all going well, she'd be ready for the first
Point-to-Point of the new year in Cork, then a 'Hunter's Chase' in Gowran Park in February, a break of two weeks, then full steam ahead for Punchestown in April
'Harmonica' was now officially named and Jenny had received
her jockey's licence. Her 'Owners Registration' had been approved by The Turf Club and she had been issued with her new racing colours: Maroon. White Stars. White Cap with Maroon Stars.
'Great colours,' said Garry, 'no bother picking you out. I
hope they'll be really lucky for you, Jenny.'
'Thanks a million, Garry.' That simple expression of thanks couldn't never convey to him her deep sincere gratitude for everything. She was
basking in the sheer pleasure of her new exciting adventure, savouring the thrills, relishing the challenges.
She now felt so happy, assured and optimistic. That day at the hunt when she was hurtled against the bog, shaken to pieces, knocked
unconscious, almost killed. In hindsight, it was the best thing that ever happened to her. But for that, she wouldn't be here. Now her whole life had changed and that handsome lad across the table had made it all possible. She
had a sudden urge to grab him, hug him, kiss him, show him what she really thought of him.
No! No! No! Stop Jenny!
She banished the thought - checked her watch.
'That's it, Garry, got to go ... see you next week.'
'Sure. That bit of excitement to-day should keep you going for the week.'
'It sure will, Garry ... it sure will.'
As she swung the car out of the yard, still broadly smiling,
she flashed the lights, blew the horn, waved vigorously. Returning the wave, he watched her disappear round the bend.
He was really impressed with her to-day. He knew from the first day he saw her riding that she was extra talented. To-day she showed him
what a brilliant horse-woman she really was. It wasn't easy for someone doing fast work on fresh thoroughbreds to get everything right the first time. That mare was enormously strong. He himself had difficulty holding her, she took
some pull. If she got away, you'd never get her back, she'd just run away with you. It was no bother to Jenny, child's play, she had the knack. She was light and not very strong. She didn't need strength, she had it in her hands and in her head. The way she settled that big mare, got her enjoying herself,
controlled her exuberance and dictated the work, was just brilliant - the best he had seen since Newmarket. How could someone - an amateur - have so much talent? He was glad to be helping her to use it, couldn't wait to see her in a
race - that would be something else.
This whole new venture had given a great uplift to himself too. There was a new air of confidence and optimism around the place, and a new
exciting focus to his life. He found himself longing for Saturdays to arrive, bringing Jenny and that strange warm feeling, a sensation he couldn't easily identify, but it was real and it felt great. She was so beautiful, so talented, yet so ordinary, so down to earth. A top business woman, a doctor's wife, a
celebrity with charm, integrity, yet simplicity. What a shame he didn't meet her long ago - when she was free. He couldn't imagine the exquisite bliss that would be. That doctor. What a lucky son of a gun. He doesn't really deserve her
- doesn't appreciate her. He never comes down to even see the mare, takes no interest in what she is doing, and she so enthusiastic, so committed, and so brave. If only
he
had her - they would make some team.
He cringed at the thought of what he had missed. God what a shame! Too late now. He pulled himself out of that line of thought. At least he had her every Saturday.
Be thankful for small mercies, Garry.
* * *