Keeping the Peace by Hannah Hooton Page A

called as he disappeared out of the office. She dashed over to his desk. ‘Keys!’ Jack turned and caught them as she tossed them to him.
    ‘See you later,’ he said, giving the keys a twirl and shutting the door behind him.
    Pippa grinned then ran to answer the phone.

     
    ‘Right,’ she said, five minutes later. ‘Time for entries.’
     
     

Chapter Nine
     
    ‘ P ippa. Can you come in here, please.’
    Jack’s command was barely audible, which was almost more unnerving than when he was yelling. Pippa rose on unsteady legs. Was this how it was always going to be? Would she live her days in fear of being told off? It wasn’t much of a life. And Jack had been making hers hell for the past few days, with what seemed completely unnecessary provocation. She hadn’t actually done anything wrong so far! Sighing, she left the safety of her desk and entered Jack’s office. He was holding a piece of paper which he held up for Pippa to see.
    ‘Do you know what this is?’
    Pippa groaned inwardly. She hated trick questions.
    ‘Entries ready to be declared,’ she said cautiously.
    ‘Can you tell me why Bajan Dancer is entered in the two fifteen at Chepstow tomorrow?’
    A wave of uncertainty broke over her.
    ‘Because that’s what you told me.’
    ‘No,’ Jack said slowly. ‘I told you to enter Asian Dancer in the two fifteen at Chepstow.’
    ‘Oh. Sorry.’
    ‘I don’t think you realise the impact this has, Pippa,’ he went on in a quiet voice. ‘All my horses are primed for their particular races. I train them to hit their peak on the day of their race. Not the day before. Not the day after. Asian Dancer would be at his peak tomorrow. Next weekend he won’t be as ready as he is now. Bajan Dancer would be at his peak in about six days providing his work goes to plan. Not tomorrow.’
    Pippa gulped. Okay, maybe apologising wasn’t enough to make things better.
    ‘Oh.’
    ‘This can’t happen again, Pippa, do you hear?’
    She felt like she’d been caught not doing her homework at school.
    ‘It was a mistake, Jack.’ She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. ‘I don’t make mistakes on purpose.’
    ‘You have to do better than that.’
    ‘Mistakes happen, especially if you start yelling entries at me as you rush out of the door.’ Indignation crept into her voice.
    ‘I wouldn’t have had to rush out of the door if you’d arranged a better time for me to see Dan Cameron!’
    ‘That wasn’t my fault, Jack. How can I help it if one of your owners decides the only time he can meet you doesn’t suit your schedule, but says that it’s of vital importance that he sees you?’
    ‘You make a different plan!’
    Pippa was about to retort when there was a knock at the main office door. She glared at Jack for a moment more, her chest hurting from the deep breaths she was taking.

     
    Back in the reception, Finn O’Donaghue was waiting on the doorstep.
    ‘Safe to come in?’ he said in a stage whisper.
    Pippa managed a smile, her spirits lifting at his arrival like a reflex action.
    ‘Come in, Finn. What can I do for you?’
    She liked Finn, the young wiry Irishman with equally wiry blond hair and crooked nose. Everyone liked him, despite, or perhaps even especially, because he always played second fiddle to Rhys Bradford. Rhys was apparently a better jockey; that was generally acknowledged – although Pippa couldn’t comment on this – and he knew it, strutting around like a cat who’d just been spoon-fed a pint of cream.
    ‘Just dropped in to see which nags we have runnin’ tomorrow.’
    Pippa gave a mirthless snort.
    ‘Not Asian Dancer for one.’

     
    Later that afternoon, Pippa relaxed in her chair, leaning back and gazing at the ceiling. Jack was out racing and it seemed the rest of the world had decided to give her ten minutes of peace and quiet. She looked around with displeasure. The room was drab. Boring. There was no colour, only bare white walls except for the framed