Chapter 20
The Templar was heaving. Megan, Finula and Dermot were working flat out behind the bar. On the far side of the wall hung a huge screen, its volume vibrated round the pub, adding to the already high-pitched excitement. Seamus and Tobias sat close by, eager to see Dylan riding Midas Touch, a horse from the Fox’s’ training yard. Seamus’ dad was at Newmarket, overseeing operations, which was precisely why Seamus was in Treweham with Tobias. The last thing Dylan needed was a potential disagreement between father and son, so Seamus had wisely decided to stay at home. Every so often Megan would catch a glimpse of Tobias through the crowd. She watched how his eyes looked intently at the screen, deep in thought as he sipped his brandy. Seamus, too, looked sombre. This was obviously a big deal to him: after all, it was his business, his livelihood.
Finally the signature tune of the afternoon racing programme blasted out from the speakers, to the cheers of the crowd. The pleasant face of the presenter came into focus, welcoming all to the Newmarket races. Soon she was interviewing a retired jockey for his thoughts on the 2000 Guineas winner, having won the prestigious race three times before in the nineties.
‘Well, clearly they’re all top-class animals to be here, but with the drying ground, I’d have to favour Jo’s Comet and Midas Touch.’
This sent the pub wild. Tobias and Seamus allowed themselves tight smiles.
‘And, of course, Midas Touch has the assistance of Dylan Delany in the saddle,’ replied the presenter with gusto.
‘Yes, who rides Newmarket better than Dylan Delany?’
This caused even more cheering and clapping. Flora was sitting right at the front, on a table next to Tobias and Seamus, with two friends from the stables. Her heart was thumping wildly at the thought of seeing her lover on the big screen. No one knew about her and Dylan, even though they had been meeting quite regularly. It was her precious secret. The TV presenter then moved on to Sean Fox, as Midas Touch’s trainer. He stood tall and proud. Seamus gave a deep breath, bracing himself for his father’s concise, no-nonsense answers. Almost everyone in The Templar had placed a bet on Dylan winning the 2000 Guineas, at good odds too, having known early on he was racing today.
Gary and Tracy, being caught up in the thrill of it all, had decided to put a wager on as well. They sat near the bar and had got chatting to the locals. It was hard not to get swept along with the camaraderie. Everyone was jubilant as the drinks flowed and last-minute bets were placed urgently via mobile phone.
Only Seamus and Tobias appeared serious. Megan wondered how much money Tobias had put on Dylan winning his race. Judging by the way he was acting, a lot. Only once had he smiled and acknowledged her. The 2000 Guineas was scheduled to run after the first two races, allowing anticipation to build. The atmosphere was electric. Applause and cheers announced the end of each race, or groans and ripped tickets thrown in despair. Then the big moment arrived. The 2000 Guineas was next.
The camera zoomed into the parade ring, where the snorting horses were met by their jockeys. It was a hive of activity. The jockeys, trainers and owners were having final discussions. Then the camera closed in on the most famous jockey in the race, Dylan. He was talking to Sean Fox. Gone was the carefree playboy. Instead his expression held absolute attention, utterly focused on the job in hand. He was wearing silks in the owner’s colours: claret and gold hoops. His dark curls could just be seen tucked under his cap. Instead of his blue eyes twinkling, they looked piercingly into the close-up of the camera, making every woman watching sigh. Flora thought her chest would burst with pride. Megan watched Tobias grip his glass as he stared at the screen. He’d been a gambler most of his life and he’d enjoyed a few good wins. But he’d never stood to win ninety grand on one race before. Seamus, too, was as still as a statue, waiting for the race to begin. The horses were mounted and made their way to the starting line. The sun was warm on Dylan’s back and his confidence was growing with every stride as he cantered down to the start. He circled Midas Touch behind the stalls as the starter called out the jockeys’ names and the handlers began to load them up. Within seconds the starter had pulled the lever and they were off.
Dylan quickly caught hold of Midas Touch’s mane as he bolted forward and immediately set into his stride. Once his body had adjusted to the pace, he let go and settled him into the middle of the field as planned. Dylan knew the race would not continue to be run at such speed, so calmed Midas Touch and waited for the pace to slow. Shouts of frustration from The Templar echoed round the bar, the viewers thinking Dylan had lost his stride. Tobias and Seamus thought better; although tense, they knew to trust Dylan’s tactics. Horses thundered past Midas Touch as Dylan waited to make his mark. Searching for a gap, he moved his horse into position. Seamus leant forward in his chair, knowing this was the moment. Dylan paced up his speed and passed two horses, causing cheers from the pub. Again Dylan looked ahead and saw a space. Taking advantage of it and his speed he immediately directed Midas Touch to ride through it, overtaking another rider. More shouts blasted out from The Templar. Now they were facing the run to the finish. Dylan felt Midas Touch hit his stride. All he had to do was steer him and they’d be certain to win. The horse directly in front of him began to slow down. Dylan pulled to go round on the outside, when suddenly Jo’s Comet appeared from nowhere and knocked him off balance towards the rails. Midas Touch briefly lost momentum and Dylan found himself tightly boxed in, unable to find a gap to manoeuvre.
In the stands Sean Fox gripped his binoculars with rage. ‘He’s got himself boxed in,’ he hissed through gritted teeth. Meanwhile, the bookmakers by the railings smiled. A pale-faced Tobias looked away from the screen with a gulp, as if his last chance had died. The horse in front of Dylan was losing ground so quickly that Jo’s Comet had no alternative but to go on, leaving Dylan behind him with space to move, but now lengths off the leader. Dylan gripped hard on the reins and once again Midas Touch was running. The horse galloped as though giving his all but, a furlong from home, Dylan took his whip and gave him one good crack behind the saddle. The response was immediate. In an instant Midas Touch took off, moving up a gear like a high-performance car. With a hundred yards to run Dylan gave him one more crack, and then rode him out with full force. Fifty yards from the post he passed all the horses and won by a length and a half.
‘He did it!’ Seamus bounced up from his seat and punched the air.
Tobias knocked back his drink, then looked towards Megan behind the bar with a huge beam on his face. Hell, he was handsome, she thought, as her heart fluttered uncontrollably.
The whole pub erupted with whoops of joy, people jumped up and down in delight, and champagne was ordered. Gary and Tracy basked in the atmosphere. It felt so good to be part of this community.
In the midst of this pandemonium Nick appeared at the bar. Finula ignored him, leaving Megan to serve.
‘Hi,’ he smiled. ‘A glass of red, please.’ Megan poured and handed him his drink. ‘Do you know how Ted is?’ he asked, handing over his money.
‘I saw him the other day. He’s OK, but didn’t want to go back to his cottage. He’ll have gone into a care home by now.’ Megan’s face dropped a little, remembering her visit to Ted. ‘I must go and see him there.’ Nick cupped her chin with this thumb and forefinger.
‘Hey, don’t worry. Ted’ll be fine.’
‘A brandy, please, Megan.’ Tobias slammed down his glass on the bar and glared at Nick. Megan jumped slightly and took his glass. Nick shrugged, smirked and left.
‘There you go.’ Megan handed Tobias his drink.
‘Thanks. Was he bothering you?’ He nodded towards Nick, who was standing talking to a group of people near the door.
‘No,’ she frowned, ‘he was just asking about Ted.’
Tobias didn’t look convinced. Then his shoulders relaxed.
‘Help me celebrate my winnings, have dinner with me tonight?’
With him looking like that, how could she refuse? Yet she had to.
‘I’m sorry, I’ll be working here until late tonight.’
‘Tomorrow, then?’ He wasn’t taking no for an answer.
‘Yes, but I’ll cook dinner. You come to mine.’ He was dangerously attractive and she felt safer being around him on her own territory.
