Cut Throat by Lyndon Stacey Page B

be aching to follow in your footsteps, would he? You should be proud of him. He’ll do it, you know. Without your support if he has to, but he’d much rather do it with.’
    â€˜What makes you think you’ve the right to tell me how to bring up my son?’ Bill hissed furiously. ‘You’re a fine bloody role model, aren’t you? Don’t think I don’t know the real reason you lost your job in America! You might fool the Colonel and Mr Richmond but I know better, and it’s only a matter of time before they find out for themselves. So why don’t you get out while you can still go with dignity?’
    With this, Bill turned abruptly on his heel and left the tackroom. Ross stared after him in bemused silence.
    Obviously Bill had somehow come to hear of the rumours that had surrounded his ‘retirement’ in the States, but quite what that had to do with Danny’s ambition to be a jockey, Ross couldn’t see. Somehow, too, it failed to account for the violence of the outburst.
    Just before noon the following day, a red MG Roadster drew up in the yard and Lindsay climbed out, looking slim and tanned in cotton hipsters and a cropped top.
    Ross had just finished hosing Bishop down after a hard but rewarding session in the school. He turned the tap off and went towards her, drying his hands on his unbuttoned denim shirt and smiling widely.
    â€˜Hi! When did you get back? And why didn’t you tell me?’ He took advantage of the occasion to give her a welcoming kiss on the cheek.
    â€˜Yesterday morning, early. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I’ve been longing to see how you’re getting on and suddenly I couldn’t wait any longer, so I rang the airport and they had a cancellation – so here I am! I was going to ring but then I thought I’d surprise you all.’
    Bill and Sarah had appeared from the tackroom and joined in greeting Lindsay. Leo stood watching from a doorway until he was introduced and then turned on a hitherto undemonstrated charm.
    â€˜You’re just in time for coffee,’ Ross told her. ‘Let me put Bishop away and we’ll go and find Maggie.’
    â€˜Do you know, that’s one of the things I’ve missed most about England. Maggie’s baking.’ Lindsay laughed. ‘That and Gypsy. I’m longing to ride her again.’
    Ross knew from their long conversations in the hospital that the Colonel’s yard was barely three miles from the sizeable Georgian manor where Lindsay’s family lived, and which was managed as a venue for conferences and up-market functions. She had told him that throughout her childhood, her ponies, and then horses, had been stabled at Oakley Manor to prevent her becoming, as her mother put it, ‘one of those abominable little horsey girls who always smell of stables’. As the only child of the Cresswells of Cresswell Hall, she was expected to make a suitable marriage and in due course take over the running of the Hall.
    Seated at the table in the Scotts’ cottage, Lindsay munched on one of Maggie’s rock cakes and demanded to hear, in detail, about all Ross’ successes to date.
    â€˜And what happened to your hand?’ she asked, after commiserating with him over the loss of the ride on King.
    Ross hesitated. ‘I . . . uh . . . got kicked,’ he said. ‘Bishop is a tad grouchy about having his legs handled, but it’s nothing much.’ He flexed the fingers of his bandaged hand to prove it was still operational.
    â€˜â€œThe patient is said to be comfortable”,’ Lindsay quoted, grinning.
    Ross smiled back. ‘Yeah, that sort of thing,’ he agreed, noting that Leo was regarding him with a sullen stare, and wondering, not for the first time, if somebody really had pushed him under Bishop’s feet. He shrugged the thought off. They had had their differences, but Leo had never given him any