I’d never intended this to happen.
I drained the bottle and threw it down. What the hell did it matter now? I was ruined, but it was about to happen anyway. Soon enough Olivia would have replaced me. But at least I could have lied and called it a retirement from the sport. I could have saved face and offered to coach, maybe even ridden for someone else. That was impossible now. My reputation was ruined. The tightknit horse world awash with whispers about me, hell there were shouts on social media for my head.
It seemed there were two camps online. Those who thought I had been hard done by; Olivia’s death had been a terrible tragedy and I shouldn’t suffer because of it. However, they were drowned out by new campaigns which were looking to lynch me. I was living in fear since reading there was a ‘String up Hilary’ group on Facebook where, according to a poll I’d seen, the rapidly growing membership felt that me being tarred, feathered and paraded at the next big showjumping event would be too good for me. I’d stolen Olivia from them and it was ‘as good as if I’d killed her myself’.
I’d spoken to the police who assured me they would act, but I’d already had death threats and even packages of dog crap posted to me. It was all being stirred up, Adam was in prison so he couldn’t be attacked, but it seemed I was fair game. I suppose the public wanted to vent their anger at someone, but didn’t they realise I was hurting too. I may have disliked Olivia but she was still a pretty young lady with her life ahead of her. I was doing all I could to support her.
Maybe if I’d had a backbone, I would have thrown her out the first time she’d struck one of my horses. I should have torn her off a strip and demanded she packed her bags. She would still be alive if I’d done that, so maybe this was my fault after all.
I’d allowed an aggressive rider to abuse my horses and instead of taking a stand, I’d let her get away with it. I’d stood back because I was afraid I might upset my sponsor. Oh God, I was a fraud. It was clear, I deserved the vitriol I was receiving. This was not punishment for what had happened to Olivia, this was punishment for the fact I’d allowed her to do this and not stopped her.
It could have worked out differently. She might have listened to me. She had been a damn good rider. Hell, she was better than me. It was just her temper, if she could have managed that she would have ridden Gold easily, the selectors would have been falling over themselves to pick her.
So here I was. A drunk, festering in what could have been, having allowed a potential star to be killed because I was too weak to do something about it. The images on the screen had looped and were showing the black and white image of Adam stepping into the tool shed, repeating, time after time his progress to ending her life.
“Adam…” I said aloud, again to the silent and empty room. “You may have carried the fork, but it was me who was responsible…” I shook my head, there he was, hood up stepping from there, pitchfork in hand.
My heart stopped. I sat up sharply, grabbing the computer mouse. I tracked back the images on screen a few frames, leaning in staring at the screen, blinking. I fumbled, grabbing my phone and quickly dialled a number.
20
A Career in Germany
Waking without Adam beside me in bed had once felt alien to me, now it seemed as this would be my life. I would need to stand alone. No, I Wasn’t ready to give up yet. I sat up, wishing it had been a dream but sadly instead the nightmare was continuing. I sighed, stepping out of bed and walking to the shower.
The hot water did nothing to refresh me. I still felt stiff, my limbs leaden. I went downstairs into the kitchen. Amanda was sitting at the kitchen table, a steaming mug before her.
“Morning, there’s tea in the pot.”
I poured a mug of tea, stirring and sipping the warm liquid before sitting down, staring out of the window. It was a beautiful day, the sun sparkling on the water in the bay, however, I felt nothing but cold and alone.
I glanced at my phone which I’d left on the table. There was a message on the screen, someone had left me a voicemail. I picked it up and dialled the voicemail number, the message was slurring and left by someone who had been drinking.
“Kate… It’s Hilary. Look, I’m sorry for being so rude to you. I just feel pretty cut up at the moment. I need to speak with you, I’ve been looking at the CCTV images and…-’
There was a loud sound, it was like a thud followed by another loud crash then the message cut off. I pressed a key on my phone and listened again. “How strange?”
“What’s that?” Amanda looked up.
“This voicemail message. It’s from Hilary, she starts to speak and then it cuts out. Have a listen.” I handed Amanda my phone. She listened to the message before handing back the phone.
“She sounds like she is totally drunk. She probably fell off her chair or something. Ring her back…”
I dialled her number which rang for a long time before switching to voicemail. I left a message asking her to call me.
* * *
“Mr Bishop? Hello there, I’m Will
