6. FINISHING STRAIGHT

Wayne waits alone for Deidre at the parade ring gate well after the third race of the day, in which Deidre finished third, her first of two races today. His three friends have returned to the grandstand to watch the main event of the afternoon, the Cheltenham Gold Cup, a steeplechase over 3 miles and 2 furlongs. Wayne had earlier arranged to meet Deidre after she weighed in and changed after the race.

He spots her early as she approaches the gate. She has clearly changed out of her garish-coloured silks, freshly showered and dressed in smart but more muted coloured clothes, a woollen skirt around knee length, stockings or tights with short broad heels for walking comfort on grass and a quilted coat against the wind which still has some late-March winter chill in it, despite the brilliant sunshine.

He can see that Deidre is wearing a wide brimmed pale yellow straw hat on over her long dark, almost black, hair tied in a pony tail which swishes from side to side as she walks.

Soon, he sees her negotiate her way through the security checks on her side of the gate, showing her jockey pass which she would require to get back in, and emerges on Wayne’s side of the divide her eyes seeking him out.

She seems pleased to see him as her face breaks out into a beautiful smile as she approaches him. He walks towards her and meets her halfway.

They hug somewhat tentatively. Wayne with hesitation on his part, but as they release their hug, Deidre kisses him quickly on the cheek.

It is their first ever kiss and Wayne instantly colours up bright pink. Deidre notices, despite the tan that Wayne has acquired working outside even this early in the spring, his embarrassment so obvious. In response, she re-embraces him and looks him square in the eye.

“Your eyes are light grey-blue and smokey,” she says, “like an autumn mist.”

"And yours are as blue and sparkling as the Shannon on a grand day," he replies.

She focuses on one eye then the other for what seems to Wayne an age, stirring an agony of wants and despair all mixed up in feelings that he has suppressed for years, almost as long as they have known each other; he counts them in his head, fourteen years, if time included the last two years of physical and emotional separation.

As well as the deepening pink of his cheeks, he can feel the roots of his thick, slightly unruly hair bristle with the flush of oxygenated blood to his follicles and his body, muscle-hardened by two years of labour since leaving school, suddenly feels as weak as water.

"Wayne?" Deidre asks gently in a whisper that only he hears, as they continue to hold each other close, "you’re as scarlet as a fresh-boiled lobster. Does this mean that you have some ... remaining feelings for me? Cos if you have, well, you’ve never said anything before, have you, you bloody eejit?!"

"I, well, I spent all that time with you after school, awaiting your Dad … so sure, you must have known that I liked you more than a wee particle. We did have plans, once."

"Yes we did and I was too easily dissuaded from them, sorry. So, you do like me then, do you?"

"Of course, I followed you all the way to Cheltenham now, didn’t I?"

"You did," she states, then on her tip toes she presses her lips against his lips and tightens her grip on the poor man who is stiff as a board until he realises that this is unlike any ancient matriarch pressing her attentions on a poor defenceless wean, which would have been a vomit-fest. No, this is Dee Dee O’Shea kissing him and pressing her tongue against his unyielding lips insisting on being let in. And why would he resist except by reflex?

Wayne’s shoulders sag, as he relaxes, his arms lift and wrap around her, to embrace her in turn, and his lips part enough to allow her hot, wet inquisitive tongue to lick along his upper teeth before wheedling deeper, searching out his own tongue.

His eyes are closed as if he is entering a dream state. All his mind can do is register the thoughts that, ‘Dee Dee is kissing me. Me! She’s actually feckin’ kissing me, on the gob, on MY gob. Her grip is firm, her hard body pressed tight to me, yet her lips are soft, so soft.’

A groan passes between them, although neither of them is exactly sure who groaned, or was it both together?

Deidre’s tongue presses deeper and Wayne’s teeth close and nip the tip of her bold invader gently. They sigh together as Deidre reluctantly withdraws her tongue and lightly nips Wayne’s lower lip with her teeth before settling down on the balls of her feet and burrows her face in his deep broad chest. Now it is Deidre’s turn to go scarlet.

"I can’t believe that I’ve just eaten your face off, in front of all these people," she murmurs into Wayne’s deep chest, conscious that Wayne holds her close, gently rubbing her back, "I’ve wanted to do that for donkey’s years but ...."

"Hush, shush," Wayne says gently, imagining calming a child in need of comfort, his embarrassment gone, evaporated and replaced by a quiet calm of an acceptance of a change of state, a change for the better, much better. "Ma told me years ago that when I finally got to kiss you that I was to leave enough space between us for the Holy Spirit, until we married."

"Married, now is it?" Deidre mumbles into his chest.

"I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember but, as you so eloquently put it, I’ve been too much of an eejit to tell you how much before now."

"I always hoped you loved me, but couldn’t think why, I was the shortest, ugliest wee wean in the class, yet you took time to talk to me when no one else would, so I wasn’t lonely or picked on while waiting on my Da after school." She raises her head enough to look at Wayne’s face but still holds onto him, maintaining a cheek pressed against his chest. "I love you Wayne, I always have, always."

"I always had hopes you might. And as fer you being ugly, get away widge’yah, you dopey woman," Wayne smiles, "I just saw a few moments ago how you rode that horse, half a tonne of muscle and bone under you, and you coaxed him all the way in as his masterful mistress. It was a wonderful thing to see Dee Dee, I’m so impressed."

"Well, so’m I impressed," she says, wiggling the one eyebrow that was within his view, "judging by your reaction—"

"Oh! Ah! Sorry! About that, but, you know, it’s an automatic reaction in a full on cuddle situation. I hope ya not too freaked out."

"To be honest I’m not freaked out, not one bit," she grins at him, "I’m not complaining but does this reaction I’ve caused mean that we have to remain ... holding on to each other like this ... in close embrace, front to front, until maybe the sun goes down and it gets too dark for anyone to see?"

"No, I hope not, I mean, I’d love to but...."

"But as in but what?" she smiles up at him

"But, Dee Dee, darlin’, you have the last race at 5.10 and maybe other possible obligations to your Dad before then?"

"Da’s given me an hour and five minutes off, so I’ve no obligations at all to anyone else but us until I need to get ready to ride the last race."

"How’d you manage that? Your Oul Man hates me, doesn’t he?" Wayne’s voice strains in amazement.

"Maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t, but Da loves me and knows that this meeting with you means something, actually everything, to me and he’s prepared to trust me and, it appears, trust you."

"A whole hour and five minutes," he looks at his watch over her shoulder, "is that from now or was it five minutes ago?"

"More like ten minutes ago, sorry."

"No need to be sorry, Dee Dee, you’re mine until half-past-four, so, what d’yer wanna do in that time?"

"Be with you. What were you going to do before I mucked up your plans?"

"Watch the races, enjoy the craic with my workmates, have a drink or two between races," Wayne says, "but now all I want to do is look at you."

"Well, that would be nice but I’d like to watch the races too. Tell us, what’d you pick for the Gold Cup?"

"Empire Striker, but it was a toss-up, I’m doing a Super Heinz each way and placed my bet online last night."

"Oh, shite, Wayne, Empire Striker’s a dud," Deidre says, "well, normally he’s a strong horse and another day he’d be a great pick, but he didn’t travel well and he looked completely off to me this morning. What was your second choice for the Gold Cup?"

"Dun Streak."

"He does look good today, better than Empire Striker. Each way? I guess he may still have a place chance, but as one of the favourites it won’t contribute much to your pot. How does this affect your Super Heinz?"

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

"Got two winners in the first two races and ... can’t remember my pick in the third," Wayne grins, "had some pushy pixie on the poor wee nag whipping him into finishing in one of the minor places."

Deidre punches him gently in the chest.

"Two winners and a place in the first three race? Jaysuus, that’s brilliant. What prices?"

"Well, I’ve definitely got me money back and Oisin, he’s the one with the calculator on his phone, reckons I’m 45 euros up, so I can’t lose now even if the rest all fall over and finish nowhere."

"Who’ve you got in the 17.10?"

"Ah, funny you should ask … it’s that pushy Dee Dee riding Deveroh."

Deidre squeals in delight, "Yes!” she says as she bangs her fist against his chest.

"Hey, this conversation has … well, er, all this serious talk has meant that we can move now," Wayne says, his face colouring up red again, "Let’s go catch the rest of the Gold Cup. Shall we?"

"Aye, Wayne, sweetheart.You can introduce me to your muckers."

***

They catch the finish of the race and sure enough, Empire Striker is pulled up, while Dun Streak goes on to give the winner a scare as it came in a close second. Wayne’s Super Heinz remains 45 euros up with 4 down and 3 races to go. Oisin has finally chalked up a winner but is still in last place in their little side bet; Darragh has a winner and one place; Liam two winners and Wayne still in the lead with two and one.

Deidre relaxes in the gentle banter with Wayne’s three friends and she thinks that they clearly respect Wayne as a worker and a person even though he is basically a labourer. Liam assures her that Wayne does have potential to be a skilled construction worker as he takes interest and care in everything he does and will do well if he takes the right college courses.

Meanwhile, Wayne’s friends are impressed by the diminutive beauty, with her pleasant outgoing personality and have already witnessed the control and empathy she has with her horses. And also very impressed with the genuine pleasure she displays by being with Wayne. And Wayne too has gone up in the estimation of his friends, the admiration that Deidre has for him as obvious as his devotion to her.

The fifth race is a hunters chase at 1610, a field of 21 runners over three miles and two furlongs. Wayne’s choice, Gold Standard hangs back in about fifth place, probably expecting to use his pace to outstrip the leading pack in the last quarter mile, but is balked on the rails and, by the time he gets around them to attack up the hill in the final furlongs, the five leading horses are too far ahead to catch. Liam’s horse gets a place so he ties with Wayne in their side bet for 40 euros.

Wayne doesn’t see the end of the race, other than on several of the big screens on view, as he walks Deidre back to the owner/trainer/jockey area. They kiss as they part.

“Don’t forget, Wayne,” she says, squeezing his broad shoulders, “Put something on Deveroh to win in the last race, even if it is only a tenner. I’ll be riding her hard all the way to the finish, for you.”

He has some Sterling banknotes and loose change on him, that he changed up from euros in the bank at home during the week and, knowing he was 45 euros up in the betting bag, so he approaches one of the course bookies with the intention of putting down 25 pounds each way on her horse. Then he thought about trusting Deidre, knowing she would ask later if he took up her tip, directly from the horse’s mouth, and, knowing he could never lie, he put the 50 pounds on to win and paid the tax up front.

Wayne feels emotionally flat in the time leading up to the sixth race. He’s with his fiends and they too, sense his quiet is because Deidre wasn’t by his side, so they keep the banter light and focuss their insults away from the obvious target.

After the race they go to the nearest bar, all drinking pints and Wayne paces his drinking to match theirs.

“I’ve put 50 quid on the nose in the last,” he admits after Liam gets the next round in between races.

“On your Dee Dee’s filly?” asks Liam as he sets down the tray.

“Aye, it’s currently 25 to 1,” Wayne nods, “If it comes in, that’s a five figure win bonus.”

“If Deveroh wins, you’ll get another bag of cash that’ll be halfway between five and six figures,” Oisin points out, “and if that’s Dee Dee’s tip, I’m havin’ some of that, so I will.”

“Aye, an’ me,” Darragh adds.

“Well, boyos,” Liam determines, “We’ll sup these up swift like and find an ‘Honest Pat’ and put our shirts on Dee Dee’s ride!”

There are only 12 runners for the short sixth race, a Mare’s Chase at 1650hrs over two miles and half-a-furlong. It’s a tight bunched field that approaches the finish and it was tricky picking out their chosen mounts at the run in, so they lustily shout out their own choices and are amazed that only Wayne’s horse, Globeshifta, finishes third and qualifying place, at 16/1 and is guaranteed a profit of 1190 euros on his Super Heinz.

Wayne now has two winners and two places in the six races, with one race remaining and Liam finding out his horse has scratched, the 40 euros are Wayne’s, none of the others can catch him. With a few jeers, that turn into cheers, Darragh, who has been holding the pot, hands the notes over to Wayne and tells him that for penance he pays for this next round.

“It’s my round next anyway,” Wayne points out.

“Oh no, yah bloody clown,” Darragh points out with a crooked grin, "That’s an extra round for winning, so it’s two rounds in a row fer yers.”

After a very swift round of pints, now all four are drinking the black stuff all round, the four amigos rush over to the Parade Ground again to check out Deveroh and to cheer on Deidre before she mounts her filly and makes her way to the start.

“There he is, isn’t that lovely filly a perfect sight for sore eyes?” Oisin says.

“Aye she is,” agrees Wayne, looking at his Dee Dee.

"Naw, yah goon," Oisin snaps back with a dig in Wayne’s ribs, "I’m talking about the chestnut mare that your Dee Dee’s ridin’. I’ve got me next holiday riding on her."

"Haven’t we all, boyo," Liam says, "my cash account is now as light as a feather, so I need a finish in the top three or my two grandkids miss out on both birthdays and Christmas this year … either that or I could put a down payment on a house for them so I could get back some peace and quiet at home!”

"C’mon over to the Grandstand and at least we’ll see the race in full," Darragh chips in.

At 1710 the 25 runners in the handicap hurdle are off over the nine hurdles on the course of just over two and a half miles. Wayne notices on one of the big screens that Deveroh starts out of the trap cleanly and settles in the pack about tenth. She clears the first three hurdles like a pro and the field starts to stretch out, with a leading pack of about five horses stretching away from the rest. Deveroh eases out of the following pack and begins to close the gap, so over hurdles four and five she jumps clear without any interference from other runners. Now, past halfway through the race, two-and-a-half minutes into it, there is a clear gap between the front six and the rest, with Deveroh starting to overtake the fifth and fourth place horses.

The four friends all have much riding on this last race and they start to verbally urge their horse on, jumping up and down as Deveroh clearly demonstrates she has the speed and stamina to take on the leading pack.

"Hey!" Yells out one punter with a Northern Irish accent, "Are yous the guys that was cheering on that Irish horse in the third race?"

"Aye," yells Liam back, "in this race it’s Deveroh, Irish owned, Irish bred, Irish trained, ridden by Dee Dee O’Shea, same stables, same rider, the jockey’s my man here’s better half. Look at her go, she’s only 19, this is only her second race, she’s cute as a button and she’s bossing that chestnut mare like a queen!"

The Irishman calls out to his friends gathered around him. The message spreads like wildfire across the seating and by the time Deveroh reaches the seventh hurdle she was in second place and the whole grandstand was yelling for Deveroh and Dee Dee!

A roar goes up as after the final hurdle Deveroh edges ahead of the lead horse and races towards the line, with the whole grandstand on its feet cheering on a rank outsider as if it had been the odds-on favourite all along.

Deveroh passes over the line with Deidre holding her whip hand aloft in triumph and twenty thousand hats are thrown in the air in the main stand, their cheers and whoops echoing over the course.

Wayne, Liam, Darragh and Oisin cling to one another, as they jump up and down, and tears are shed as their triumph sinks in.

"The best craic ever!" Liam announces. And they all repeat it, and that spreads through the grandstand too as every Irishman chants, "The best craic ever! The best craic ever!"

The announcement of the Race Winner, Deveroh, is announced over the tannoy at 25/1. Causing even more whoops.

"Eleven thousand, two hundred and twenty euros!" explodes Oisin, looking at his mobile phone.

"What’s that, Bodge?" Darragh asks.

"Duke’s Super Heinz, that’s his profit, over eleven thousand feckin’ euros!"

"And I’ve placed 50 pounds on the nose." Wayne admits.

"That’s fourteen hundred and fifty euros to add to the pot." Oisin calculates with his fingers flying over his phone keypad.

"I have two thousand euros on that horse a thousand each way, placed online." Liam confesses, "I’ve never done anything crazy like that before, it must’ve been the black stuff. And I thought that Wayne sounded so certain that Dee Dee’s horse would do so well, and what with the drink, I got carried away and put all of my holiday money on it."

"That’s thirty grand, Gaffer," Oisin calculates, "Jaysus, you’re feckin’ rich!"

"Come on, let’s do to the unsaddling and watch Dee Dee go into the weighing room," Wayne says, putting away his own mobile phone, "I want to congratulate her as soon as possible."

They make their way to the grandstand exit, again accompanied by plenty of back-slapping from the Irish contingent.

"Look, Wayne, before you go to meet Deidre, I think there’s something that you need to know that er, might effect the relationship between you, Dee Dee and especially her oul man."

"I know, her Dad hates me, he always has done since we were weans and learned that his daughter and me were friends, but we’ll get past that."

"It’s probably because he blames you for your uncle, especially as he shares the same name as you," Liam adds, "when she hears the truth about your uncle, Wayne, your Deidre may hate you too when she finds out."

"Oh, you mean about Uncle Wayne accidentally killing Dee Dee’s Ma?"

"Shiiiite! Yah know about that then, Wayne?"

"Aye, of course we know, Gaffer. We were at school together for donkey’s years, with access to the school library and the internet. Dee Dee even wrote essays on the subject and when we were about 15 or so we had a whole school lesson about bereavement and Dee Dee read out some great extracts from her essay. She got a gold star."

"But what about her father hating you?"

"Oh he hates me because he thinks I want to take her away from him, which of course I do want to in the long run. We sort of planned to be together in Dublin, you know? Her first year in dorms in Trinnys, with me labouring at home with Tooley’s, then in her second year I’d move to Dublin to join a construction firm with a year’s experience under me belt and we’d rent a flat with her Da’s help. But he persuaded her to miss our graduation, then I saw her out with another boy, a chinless rich fecker, and, although we were still texting each other as friends, neither of us being honest in expressing our feelings, hopes and fears … so our friendship sorta cooled, with each of us afraid to open up our hearts and I stayed on in Portumna this last year instead of joining her. Then I saw in the paper that she went to Cheltenham last year with her father during that window in the Covid lockdown and I knew she’d go back again this year because training horses was always her passion. So then I organised this trip."

"Phew!" Darragh puffs out his cheeks, "We were so worried about yah Duke that we had to elect the Gaffer to speak to you. So what happens now?"

"Well, I’ve enough in the kitty for a ring, a modest wedding and that vibration on my phone means she’s weighed in and getting changed and has replied to my text message."

Wayne fishes in his pocket for his mobile and checks the screen.

"Okay, Duke, yah daft oul romantic," Oisin asks, "what message did you text her and what has she replied?"

"I sent ‘Congrats. ❤️ U on way to bend knee. Please?’"

"And her response?" Liam asks.

Grinning, Wayne shows his phone, displaying "Yes!"

Wayne high-fives his friends, "This was the best craic ever!"

The end (or is that a new beginning?)