Chapter 2

Just before I left Paris I tried to use an ATM to access my American bank account--I wanted/needed to amass as much cash as possible. Since I was leaving the continent I felt that I could risk using the ATM. The damn machine ate my card!

A message on the screen instructed me to see someone inside the bank. Nervously I did as instructed. Right off, the customer service representative started giving me a line of bull while a rent-a-cop, hand on gun, moved towards us. Seeing something was wrong, I rose to leave. The guard tried to stop me but I had his gun before he could even blink—he really was inept. Since I now had the weapon, the manager became very cooperative.

It seems that my family had filed a report that I had been kidnapped so that all of my accounts could be tagged and locked. My "wonderful" family was trying to get me back even if they had to break the law to do so.

I told the bank manager to keep my card and to have the police check the fingerprints. They would see that I had not been kidnapped since I was the one using the damn thing. I then walked to the door. No one bothered me since I still held the weapon at the ready. Once at the door I stopped. I opened the revolver's cylinder and dumped the bullets on the floor. I tossed the gun as far back into the bank as I could, and then I ran for my life. Thankfully the Metro was right outside of the building, and I was able to meld into the crowd before anyone could stop me.

When I arrived at the railroad station, I did stop to use my cell phone. I called my grandmother's lawyer in Boston, to notify him of what was happening. I needed to get all of these things done before I left the continent.

He had been a very close friend of my grandmother and, therefore, me. I had spent many a summer at grandmother's home on Cape Cod and 'Uncle' Joe had always been there. I did say that they were very, very close friends didn't I?

He was, at first, jubilant to hear from me, and to hear that I was safe. Then he became enraged at the antics of my parents. They had already filed for the release of my trust to them, because I 'had been kidnapped and they needed the money for the ransom.'

'Uncle' Joe told me he would stop the proceedings and protect my trust fund, no matter what! He gave me his special emergency/personal cell phone number and instructed me to buy a pay-as-you-go cell phone. I was to contact him at that number every few days until things settled down. I took the phone number down and said I would do as instructed, sent him my love and then hung up. My next act was to, drop my phone on the floor and stomp on it. Uncle Joe had told me that I could be traced by the phone's GPS.

He really was a sweet guy. I felt safe having him, one of the best legal minds in the country, looking out for me.

Within the hour I was on the train, and on my way to England through the tunnel.

Gone was my happy idea of bumming around. The Police would most certainly be looking for me, especially after my stunt at the bank.

I had to think!

First my appearance needed to be altered. All of my life I had worn my hair very long—it was my best characteristic. I went to the washroom and hacked it all off. I didn't want some person finding my tresses in the trash and telling the authorities so I threw them out the window. Next I put on my sports bra and then wrapped a scarf tightly around my breasts to minimize my outline even more. I could hardly breathe but I could see by the mirror that my figure really looked different. I then dressed in my baggiest sweatshirt and jeans. The end result was very androgynous.

That was all I could do until I arrived in England. The ride was an agony of fear, and pain from my squashed breasts, but I wasn't going to cave. I would not give up my freedom, even if my folks managed to get my trust fund. I would just be poor.

I made it to the end of the line without any trouble, though. Once off of the train, I felt much better ... but I was starving. I found a café and had a great meal and a pint of stout.

I felt renewed!

Most of the people in the café were trainers and grooms ... people who took care of racehorses.

"Perhaps I could get a job caring for those magnificent animals," I thought.

I eavesdropped on several conversations and learned that grooms had a great affection for the horses that they cared for, but were quite flexible in their loyalties to the various stables that employed them—they would change stables at the drop of a hat.

Opportunity struck when I became very interested in the conversation at the table just behind me.

"I know that old Cutter is a nice guy and he treats his lads well but I'm tired of waiting for my money all of the time. I'm going over to White Heath Stables; they're looking for a lad. I will miss Mrs. Cutters cooking, though," said a dark haired boy with the shake of his head.

"But, Jim! We need you! We can't loose any more help this season, I can't do it all by myself," said a pretty girl.

"I'm sorry, Annie. Even though he pays under the table ... when he does actually pay ... I need a regular pay packet, even if the Inland Revenue does take a big chunk."

Annie sighed, "Guess that's it. We're going to have to shut down, then. Poor Gramps. This will kill him."

"NO YOU DON'T! Don't you try to pull the guilt trip on me, girl! I've stayed too long, longer than any of the others, in fact. I just can't do it any more. All of my savings are gone."

The girl shrugged and said sadly, "Can't blame a girl for trying, can you?"

"No, and I'm really sorry, Annie. I really like you lot a great deal, but I need the money. Good bye, and good luck," said the groom as he rose grabbed his bag and left.

Annie sat sadly looking into her tea as her eyes filled to overflowing with tears.

I thought, 'I bet I could do that job and if they pay under the table, then I can stay under the radar. Since I still have most of the money from my school allowance and will be getting room and board I could last a year, maybe even longer. Plus I'd get to be with racehorses! This could be a win-win situation.'

I turned my chair around to face the young woman, and asked if I might join her. She just shrugged as she tried to wipe her eyes surreptitiously.

I grabbed my coffee and moved to the seat across from her and said, "I heard that a position just opened up at your stable."

Annie's jaw dropped. "But ... How? I mean ... yes, yes there is a position open! Are you interested?"

"Yes, I am!" I said with a big smile. "Look I heard your whole conversation with the boy that just left, so let's just go somewhere more private and talk."

"Ok. We can go out to the horsebox," Annie said as she rose and grabbed her jacket.

We settled ourselves in the cab and talked. I told her that I knew that they were in a tight situation and that I had a proposition for her. I said that if they would teach me the business I would guarantee a year's work at the same pay as the guy that just quit.

Annie said, "If you heard the whole conversation you know that we really can't pay you regularly but we do provide room and board. Is that agreeable?"

I smiled and said, "I said that I would work for the same wages as the former groom."

"But ... Oh, OHHHH! OK!" she said, smiling now, too. "Well, let's get going then."

She started the engine and put the truck (excuse me, 'lorry') into gear, and we were off.

I disappeared into the British horseracing world and my new life.

During our trip, Annie and I talked of this and that. Just trying to get a feel for each other. I learned that the Cutters had once been famous for winner after winner, in both hunt and flat racing. Then old Ben had a stroke and the business went to pot.

"I really think that he wants just one more really great horse before he dies," said Annie sadly. "They raised me after my mum and dad died in the bombing of Flight 103 that crashed in Lockerbie, Scotland. I was only a baby then."

Later that evening we rolled into a yard on the outskirts of Newmarket. It had seen better days. The place was run down, but clean. It was obvious that the owner was trying hard, but lacked the funds to keep the place maintained properly.

We off loaded our two passengers. They were magnificent examples of animal majesty ... at least I thought so.

I quickly learned that the horses always came first. We moved each animal into its stall. Then we removed the traveling rugs and then fed and watered the horses.

Next came the cleaning and refueling of the horsebox. Once it, too, was cared for; then, and only then, could we see to our own needs. By now it was late evening, and the light was fading. I looked around I saw that the house was dark.

Annie saw where I was looking and said, "They go to bed earlier now. They're really getting on in years. But come the morning, and they will be up before us. The groom's quarters are in this building. Take your pick of any of the rooms while I get you some bedding, and something to eat," she said as she left me to wander the building.

I picked a corner room on the top floor with a view of the heath. I heard Annie calling to me and answered back.

"I'm up here on the second floor, corner room."

A moment later she entered the room with a huge smile, my bedding and a plate of food. She told me that there was no second floor in this building. She went on to explain that the bottom floor was called the ground floor and what we Americans called the second floor was, in actuality, the first floor.

"And I thought that I spoke English," I said with a chuckle.

"No, you speak American. WE speak English. Even the spelling is different."

"I can see that I have a lot to learn," I said with a grin.

"On a more serious note, do you have an alarm clock?'

"No, why?"

"Because we need to be up at four thirty in the morning. Since there are only two of us we need to do double duty."

She ran down the morning schedule and then wished me a good night.

After she had gone I sighed and wondered what I had gotten myself into. Only time would tell. I gave another heavy sigh and got ready for bed.

I had just gone to sleep when Annie was shaking me by the shoulder, or at least it seemed that way. It was still dark outside but it was, indeed, four thirty in the morning and time to get to work.

Again, the horses came first.

There were six horses in residence. Five were stabled here out of the kindness of long faithful owners, trying to help a proud old man. Most of the horses were getting on in years, though, moving toward the end of their racing careers. The Cutters owned the last horse, though, and she was young and very beautiful. It was she, Black Dawn, that was the hope of Cutter's Way Stables.

After the horses were cared for, and the stalls mucked out, we went to breakfast.

Old Ben Cutter sat at the head of the table puffing on his pipe. It was very clear that the man had had a stroke as his left side was partially paralyzed and there was a slight droop to the left side of his face. There was, however, the sparkle of intelligence in his eyes, and even a bit of mischief, too.

A rotund woman turned from the stove with a huge platter of eggs and different kinds of meats. She looked at us as we entered and asked, "Where's Jim?" There was concern in her voice.

"Jim quit yesterday, Grams, as soon as we got back to England. But Lacie here signed on right after Jim left, so we should be ok," said Annie. She then turned to me and said, "Lacie this is my Grams, Jean Cutter, and my Gramps, Ben Cutter. Everyone this is Lacie McKenna, she's from America and wants to learn the business from the ground up."

"You aren't afraid to get dirty are you, girl?" asked Ben as he pointed his pipe at me.

"Not a bit, Sir! I was the tomboy of the family."

"What's a tomboy?"

"A hoyden like me, Gramps," said Annie.

"Oh! He, he, he! Then you'll fit right in, here," said the old man with a huge lopsided grin as he continued to chuckle.

"Come and sit, there's plenty to eat and you'll need the energy," said Jean as she seated herself and began to fill her husband's plate.

We ate heartily and the meal tasted wonderful, but the tea would take some getting used to. Ever since I was a little girl I had drunk coffee in the morning, though with progressively less sugar and milk as I got older. The tea just didn't cut it.

"But you didn't drink your tea Lacie. Is there something wrong with it?" asked Jean, then she put her hand to her mouth and said, "You're an American ... You drink coffee! Oh, I'm sorry, lass! I'll get some when I go to market."

"Don't trouble yourself, Ma'am. Water is fine," I said.

"Stop that! I'm Jean, and nothing more. You keep calling me Ma'am, and I'll always be looking over my shoulder, for my betters."

"'Jean' it is, then, and thank you for a fine breakfast."

"Gramps we're one short for the gallops today. Who should I call?" asked Annie.

The old man looked me in the eye and asked as he pointed his pipe at me again, "Do you ride girl?"