Read Online Jumping to Conclusions by Christina Jones - Free Book Online

Peapods' main rivals if it gave up jumping. But right now Drew's thoughts weren't on the stars of the Derby at Epsom or the King George at Ascot. He was still thinking about Kath's challenge. The National. Next year. Was it even remotely possible? Probably not. No one could expect him to compete with the likes of Jenny Pitman or Martin Pipe, could they? It wouldn't be considered decent for a yearling to come stomping up on the rails and snatch the Blue Riband, would it?
    And, of course, all the yards in neighbouring Lambourn would already have their chosen prospects being coached and cosseted; and Kath had Dragon Slayer. The only other National Hunt yard in Milton St John was run by Ferdy Thornton, and he played everything so damned close to his chest that, even if he had something akin to Aldaniti or Dawn Run contentedly munching hay in his stables, no one would ever know.
    Should he take Kath's advice? Peapods was doing so-so on the flat, but pretty abysmally over jumps. It made good economic sense to run with the winners, but he really didn't want to pull out of National Hunt-racing yet – not while there was still the remotest chance of winning at Aintree. And certainly not now he'd gambled away a grand which he could ill afford.
    'I'm just off.' Holly, Drew's secretary, looked up from the computer keyboard in the Peapods office. 'I've sorted it. Major disaster averted – again. One or two of the disks had been wiped but nothing important. I've checked all the files and I've made copies. You should always do a back-up, you know.'
    Drew knew. He very rarely remembered. He was just delighted to have got the bloody computer to do anything at all. He always left the technical stuff to Holly. 'Thanks a million. I'll pay you overtime.'
    'Too right you will,' Holly said cheerfully, reaching for her handbag. 'And if it doesn't sound too much like grandmother and eggs, do you think you could leave inputting the data to me in future, please, Drew? It would solve an awful lot of problems. Oh, there was one bit of info that I managed to retrieve -1 thought you might have missed it.'
    Drew raised his eyebrows. He probably had. The damn screen had started blinking and flashing and then gone blank almost straight away.
    Holly slung her bag on to her shoulder. 'God, Drew, you didn't even check your e-mail, did you?'
    He shook his head. He wasn't sure he trusted e-mail. Letters you could open and read and answer and then file neatly away were okay. Messages that flashed instantaneously on to the screen from out of the ether were something else entirely. Anyone who was foolish enough to e-mail him over the weekend had to wait for Holly's ministrations on Monday morning.
    Holly leaned back over the keyboard and started tapping. Drew looked on in admiration. Give him a dozen yearlings to break in any day.
    'There – look.' Holly smiled. 'I'll stay while you read it if you like, then I'll log off again.'
    Drew read the e-mail message over her shoulder, then spun round and hugged her. 'Hallelujah! Holly, I love you! I love everyone in the whole damn world!'
    'I thought you'd be pleased –'
    'That's the biggest understatement in the world!' Drew headed for the door. 'Where's Maddy?'
    'In the garden with Poppy Scarlet and the dogs. I'll just log off now then, shall I? Right – I'll take that as a yes.' Holly was still smiling as he belted out of the office and the door crashed shut behind him.
    The four dogs – all acquired when he and Maddy had visited the animal sanctuary to adopt a kitten and had returned home with them plus six maladjusted cats – greeted Drew in the dim coolness of the hall with massed thumped tails and damp noses. He patted wriggling bodies indiscriminately, pushing his way through them and out into the garden.
    Whatever other delights Maddy Beckett had brought into Drew's life during the eighteen months they had lived together, and there had been many, she had transformed the Peapods garden beyond recognition. Gone