voice wavered. “Look, Angela just disappeared one day. A few weeks later we were told she was dead.” She gripped the wheel. “It happened so quickly. We were all shocked.”
“Didn’t she talk to anybody about what was going on? While she was sick? Somebody must know!”
“Mr. Gibb controlled access. Nobody in, nobody out.Angela was isolated. He made a firewall around her.”
Evie felt very sad for her mother, sick and alone. She had only a few fleeting impressions of a loving smile and comforting warmth. And laughter. Lots of laughter. Evie’s stomach tightened as she realized that laughter was missing entirely in her house now. It sounded like a small thing but it was big, she thought. The sound of laughter could fill any house, big or small, with joy, and without it, a house was empty.
She hoped she’d been a good child, perhaps a bit of sunshine in her mother’s life. But maybe she’d been a wilful, rotten child, like her father said.
“Funny thing is, he thinks he has better luck controlling his second wife.” Yolanda smiled wryly.
Before Evie could ask what she meant, Paulina Gibb herself appeared, riding her favourite show hunter in a lesson with Kerry Goodham, her most recent and most handsome coach.
The grass in the jumping paddock was impeccably mown and the jumps were freshly painted and well maintained. Paulina’s horse was named Lord Percy. He was a glossy, elegant dark bay with a thin white blaze on his face. They were jumping a course with ten obstacles set up at a height of a metre ten. They did it with ease — relaxed and steady, and getting all their distances and leads.
Paulina looked great on him, Evie had to admit, with her smart black blouse, well-cut tan breeches, and black boots. Her dark hair was tucked up into her riding helmet and she rode like she knew what she was doing.
Kerry Goodham was short and compact. He was probably in his late twenties, Evie guessed, and neatly dressed in tan breeches, polished brown boots, and a dark green golf shirt. His blond hair was cut long over his ears, and his white teeth flashed in his tanned face.
Paulina’s white teeth flashed back at him.
Evie watched this scene objectively as they passed. Even though she cringed every time she was near the woman, Paulina really was right out of a Ralph Lauren ad.
Evie’s mind went back to her mother. “Odd that you didn’t know what was happening. I mean, you were here.”
Yolanda paused for a second. “I was a teenager, and scared of Mr. Gibb. I didn’t dare defy his orders.” Yolanda reached out and patted Evie’s shoulder. “I know one thing. She loved you more than the world itself.”
Evie lifted her chin defensively. “Dad doesn’t have anything good to say about her.”
“Don’t let him get to you, girl. He loved her, too, before. Angela was a fine woman. Seriously fine.”
“Did you see her leave?” Evie asked. She wanted to picture it, to imagine that day.
“No. It was my day off. But I was told there was a big fuss at the house, cops and all, and lots of yelling.”
“Cops? Yelling?” This was new. “About what?”
“I don’t know. We were all forbidden to talk about it. Forbidden to mention Angela’s name. Then she was gone. Time passed, as I said, and we were told she’d died.”
“I wish I knew more.”
“I promise, I don’t know anything except what I’ve just told you. I’d tell you if I did.”
The rig approached the long, white racing stables with royal-blue Dutch doors at every stall and a matching blue roof. It had been designed with a walking porch along both sides, which gave each stall shade in the summer when the top doors were open, and shelter from the wind in the winter. The gardeners had planted red flowers along the path and hung red geraniums at the entrance and at each post of the porch.
Yolanda stopped the truck at the stable entrance She looked directly at Evie. “I know you raced today, Evie. And won. I’m proud of you for that, but what I don’t know is why you think you can get away with it.” She spoke with concern. “You’re playing with fire. Call me when you need me. Trust me, you will.”
Maple Mills
There was truth in Yolanda’s warning, Evie thought as she stepped down from the truck. After dropping the ramp, she ducked through the side door of the trailer and stood beside her horse. She rubbed Kazzam’s face and ears as she fought tears, confused and uncertain.
Evie backed the black horse off. He stood still while she raised the ramp back into place and attached the clips. She waved to Yolanda, who nodded with a worried frown on her face and drove the rig away.
“I hope I’m doing the right thing, Kazzam,” Evie whispered, stroking his neck. “Let’s go to the barn. I’ll give you a nice bath and a bran mash.”
In response, Kazzam nuzzled her arm with his nose. He watched her with his big brown eyes, and she gazed back, recognizing that he’d given her his trust over everyone else.
Evie led the horse into the airy, cool stable. The ceiling fans twirled slowly overhead as Kazzam’s hooves clip-clopped over the cobblestones. She walked him into the wash stall, turned him around to face the aisle, then ran the water until it was warm. With soap and a rubber scrubbing glove, Evie washed and massaged every inch of the black horse, from behind his ears to his ankles, and from his nose to the tip of his tail.
He stood quietly, relaxed and enjoying the attention. He particularly liked having his back massaged, so Evie continued working on it. Kazzam’s head dropped. He yawned and licked his lips.
She hosed him down with warm water until his coat squeaked, scraped off the excess water, and rubbed his legs down with diluted liniment. She should’ve poulticed his legs and wrapped them, but then it would’ve been too obvious that he’d raced.
“Are you ready for your bran mash?”
He looked at her through half-closed eyes. Evie smiled. She traced the white heart on his forehead lovingly. “And then an afternoon nap in your clean stall?”
At the same instant, Evie and Kazzam heard brisk horse and human footsteps approaching. Les Merton, the stable manager, came up leading the pride of the stable, Thymetofly. “There’s No Justice. I wondered.”
Evie stiffened. “Is it turn-in time already?” she asked innocently. “I thought I’d give him a bath.”
“This horse is not a toy, Evie. I’ve told you before. It’s your father’s orders. You should not be handling him.”
“We get along,” she said, quietly exhaling. Phew. He hadn’t noticed him missing until now. And nobody had seen him dirty with sweat and dust except Yolanda.
“Yes, you do get along, Evie. But he kicks without warning and bucks people off.” Les looked
