Scarlet Feather

by Maeve Binchy

  'Thank you very much, Unlucky,' Maud said. 'But you know, all this business about not going in cars with strangers…'

  'And we think there's going to be a bus to the racecourse anyway,' Simon said.

  'Perhaps Unlucky could come on the bus with us?' Maud didn't want to let him go, they might need him to help them find Muttie.

  'I don't think his name is Unlucky, I think it's Jim,' Simon whispered.

  'Which is it?' Maud wanted a ruling.

  'I think for a day at the races it had better be Jim,' the man said, bewildered.

  Unlucky Jim came on the bus with them to the races. 'Where are you meeting your father?' he asked.

  'Father?' Maud said alarmed.

  'Muttie,' Simon hissed.

  'Oh, just round and about, he'll be looking out for us.'

  They realised that they must lose Unlucky Jim now. He was asking questions that were hard to answer.

  'I think we'll take Hooves for a bit of a stroll before we go in,' Maud said.

  'In case he tries to pee on someone else's briefcase,' Simon said.

  'Have you the price of getting in?' Jim asked.

  'Of course we do, we have a fortune,' Maud explained.

  'You've been very good company. I wonder, would you let me buy you a drink after the third race, the bar beside the Tote? Your father too, if you've made contact.'

  'We will, of course,' said Simon, as if at the age of nine he were used to travelling down the east coast of Ireland in a train and being invited to have a drink in the bar near the Tote.

  Simon and Maud searched everywhere for Muttie, but with no success. They went in and out of bars, they stood near the winning post for one of the races, they went to the parade ring. If Muttie were here, then surely this is where he'd be. After the third race they went to meet Unlucky Jim.

  'Did you have any winners?' they asked.

  'What do you think? I'm here depending on you both.'

  'We haven't studied form yet,' Maud said.

  'And what about your da, did he come up with anything?'

  'Not really,' Simon said.

  They decided they would pretend they had met Muttie; people hated it if they thought you were on your own and lost or something. Better let people think they were being looked after.

  'Where is he now?'

  'He said he might drop in.'

  'What do you fancy in the next one?' Jim asked.

  'We're not experts, Jim,' Maud admitted.

  'Well, you couldn't do worse than I've done.'

  They looked at the race card carefully. 'Lucky Child,' said Maud.

  Jim peered at it for a while. It hasn't much going for it.'

  'Look at the weight, and it didn't do badly last time out.'Muttie had taught them to read the vital signs.

  'You're right, I'll put fifty each way on it,' said Unlucky Jim.

  Maud and Simon went down and willed Lucky Child forward. It was a near thing, but he won.

  'Thank God,' said Maud devoutly.

  'It's very easy really, isn't it? I wonder why Father and old Barty and people who have money troubles don't do this all the time,' Simon said.

  'I think they do do it all the time, which is why they have money troubles,' Maud said.

  'You may be right.'

  'Still, it's a pity we didn't put ten pounds on Lucky Child ourselves, look at what we'd have won.'

  'But if it hadn't won we'd be in desperate trouble,' said Simon, who still had no plans on where they would stay for the night.

  Unlucky Jim searched the place to give the twins a share of the biggest win he'd ever had. They were such quirky little things, dragging that dog round with them, so serious about everything and carrying stuffed plastic bags with them. He'd like to meet up with them again, and not only to mark his race card. Tipsters who could land Internet Dream and Lucky Child in one day were very few on the ground. Then he realised that he didn't even know their names.

  'A lot of people don't come the first day, they come the second day,' Simon said wisely.

  'Did Muttie say which day he had planned to take us?' Maud was tired, and a little worried about the night ahead.

  'No, but if he's not here today he'll be here tomorrow.'

  'So what do you think, should we try to sleep here in the racecourse, it would save us having to pay to get in again?'

  'No, they must go round looking otherwise everyone would stay the three days,' Simon said.

  So they got a bus back to Kilkenny. They walked and walked to find a suitable place, and then just by pushing a door they found it. It was a big shed with some broken agricultural machinery, tractors and things in it.

  'It's like someone's boxroom,' Maud whispered.

  It was ideal for them; there would be no problem with Hooves, and there was even a car seat ripped from some vehicle that they could sleep on. They gave Hooves one slice of ham, shared the other and had bread and jam. Tomorrow they'd find Muttie, no problem.

  They slept very well because they were so tired, and woke only at the sound of Hooves barking. They had tied him to the door since he might well have found his way back to St Jarlath's Crescent. Maud looked around her. They had been sleeping in a shed full of broken machinery. She had hardly any clean clothes, they had stale bread and over half a jar of jam. They had to go out and find Muttie today.

  Simon woke and rubbed his eyes. 'It's nearly ten o'clock,' he said.

  'Do we have enough money for a breakfast?'

  'You mean, go into a place and pay for it at a table?' Simon was horrified.

  'We could have bacon and egg,' Maud said.

  Simon was counting the money, they'd have to be very careful, he said, there was the bus to pay for, the entrance again, and then of course if they didn't find Muttie, the train fare home.

  'But we're not going home, are we?' Maud asked.

  Simon agreed this was so, and that under the circumstances they should go out and look for breakfast. Somewhere that would let Hooves in. They felt a great deal better after breakfast. They tidied themselves up as best they could and set off for the races again.

  Unlucky Jim said to himself that he had never won so much money before as he had on Lucky Child. Perhaps there was a message here for him. Like quit when you're winning. Jim had never lived by this philosophy. He wondered should he try to do so now? But then he had never met two such odd children. Travelling on their own to the races, rescuing his briefcase, near-psychic powers about forecasting winners. There was something about that story of going to meet a father or a foster father that didn't sound right. Jim rang his wife and said he was coming home from the races.

  'It's only day two,' she said in disbelief.

  He alarmed her still further by suggesting that they go out for a meal somewhere posh tonight. She spent most of the day wondering what he could have done to make him feel so guilty.

  The racecourse was becoming familiar to them now. They wondered if they would meet Unlucky Jim again. They realised and were almost ready to admit that they didn't really know what kind of a place they'd find Muttie in. Where would he be studying form? Would it be in a bar, or talking to the bookies ? Up to now they had only seen him at work in what he called his office, Mr Keane's betting shop.

  Maud sat down. 'I'm tired of looking,' she said.

  'You can't be tired, you had an expensive breakfast,' Simon said.

  'Suppose he's not here,' Maud said.

  Now it was out in the open. Now it had been said and could never be taken back. Simon got such a shock that he let the lead go, and Hooves took off at a great rate through the crowds. The children were aghast. Hooves was a dog that could be allowed off a lead in a field or a park or on the beach, but never where there were crowds of people. He would do terrible damage out of sheer fright and a sense of unfamiliar freedom. They could hear him barking as he pushed his way through the crowds. They pushed their way after him… People had staggered back as Hooves had come at them, bewildered and hysterically barking his hea
d off. They saw him break for some space. The horses had left the parade ring and were lining up.

  'Please, Hooves, please don't go on the racecourse, help, help, he'll be killed,' Maud cried, and fell over flat on her face,getting two very badly grazed knees and a cut forehead. But she picked herself up and ran on.

  Simon was nearer. 'Please stop the dog,' he shouted.

  From every side they were getting looks and indeed shouts of annoyance, no place to bring a dog, the horses might get frightened and rear up… who let those children in here anyway with their damn dog? Hooves had decided against the actual racetrack and swerved to a reasonably empty area where there were some cars and horseboxes… He looked around him, his eyes wild, and then ran straight under the wheels of a jeep that was reversing. The driver couldn't possibly have stopped in time. But the twins saw it all as if it were in slow motion. The way that Hooves was thrown right up in the air and then fell to the ground. He was very still when they got there.

  Muttie was having a pint with some of his associates, and opinion was divided about Sandy Keane; should he have taken the children's bet? How could he have refused it? Might he not have thought something was amiss? Where was Muttie, anyway, for the last couple of days? That's what they'd all like to know.Muttie was vague about his overnight stay in hospital, and glossed over it easily. They couldn't live for ever on seventy pounds, they'd have to come out sooner or later. They could hardly go round all the betting shops in Dublin putting two quid on outsiders, or to a race meeting.

  'Oh, my God,' said Muttie. 'I told them I'd take them to Gowran Park for their birthday. They could have gone there.

  Walter was going up to the bookmaker with the pittance he had got in the marketplace. He saw some disturbance in the distance, but didn't investigate what it was. The odds on Bright Brass Neck weren't good enough, he'd move around, get something better further down the course. Always stupid to put it on at the first place, and he had really good hopes of this one. He'd walk away today with a lot of the debt paid, not all, but a fair whack. And all the other things could then be sorted out. Walter was good at explaining.

  Maud had fainted when she saw the accident, and a crowd had gathered. The children were taken into the offices. They 'were told that the dog was being looked after.

  'Is he dead?' asked the boy with the tear-stained face.

  'What's your name?' they asked him.

  'Hooves,' said Simon.

  They were bewildered, but they could get no more from Simon: he was too shocked to talk. Maud's cuts had been cleaned, she had been given hot sweet tea but she wouldn't stop shaking. Eventually they had managed to get the children's first names and an announcement was made.

  'We have two children here at the information office in a state of considerable distress. Can the adulIs accompanying Maud and Simon please present themselves? They are particularly anxious to meet a Mister Muttie. The information office, please, as soon as you can. The children are very upset.'

  Walter had gone down a line of bookies, there were better odds now on Bright Brass Neck than there were at the start. He had been wise to know they would lengthen. Then he heard the announcement. He couldn't believe it; those two devil children had followed him here. But they couldn't have. He had hitched in three stages. So what were they doing here? Then, beside him, he heard someone say that must be the same children who were in the accident with the dog and the jeep. Could he wait for a few minutes and go to the information office when he had placed his bet? There was the usual last-minute crowd around the bookies' stands, and the announcement was made again with a greater sense of urgency. Walter went to the information office.

  Everything happened then at the same time. The guards in Kilkenny had heard from Dublin that there was a good chance of the missing children turning up at the race meeting. The race committee and its security staff, which were beginning to despair of ever discovering who these children were, were relieved at this news, which cast them all in the role of heroes. One of the many vets at the races said that Hooves would live. He would be lame and might have to have one paw amputated, but he would definitely live. The young woman who had been driving the jeep was comforted with so many brandies that she eventually couldn't drive at all and had to be taken home. Maud and Simon, already overjoyed with the good news about Hooves, could hardly believe it when Walter came to rescue them. Their faces lit up with delight because they knew now that they had been forgiven for all the awful things they had done: they hugged him tightly, and for the first time in his life he actually felt cheap and shabby.

  'Are you Mr Muttie by any chance, sir?' one of the guards asked Walter.

  Walter looked sadly at the guard's uniform.

  'That's Walter, he's our brother,' said Maud proudly.

  'He came to find us,' Simon said, pleased.

  'There is a call for Simon and Maud, Mr Scarlet is on the line.'

  'Muttie!' they cried in delight.

  And outside, where the races still went on, the tannoy announced that Bright Brass Neck had won at eleven to one.

  Muttie was being considered the hero of the hour, but he thought of himself as the villain. Of course he had told those children he'd take them. It was all his fault from start to finish. But he wasn't allowed to take the blame. Cathy insisted it was all her fault, she just hadn't realised how dependent they were on people, she should have let them into the vandalised premises, she should have given them a precise date when she was visiting them after the wedding rather than letting them sit there waiting, disappointed. How mean to break a promise to kids who had so little. And to forget their birthday was unforgivable. Neil said a lot of it was down to him, he had believed his father's brother and he really had thought the principle of blood being best was right. Sara said they were all mad, she had just lost the plot on this one, she had been too involved in the campaign for the homeless to see what was straight in front of her, the fact that Simon and Maud, who were her direct responsibility, had no home to speak of. Kenneth Mitchell said little. He had been told that his elder son was most probably guilty of a serious crime, of vandalism and theft. And that the relations intended to prosecute. Kay said even less than her husband did, she had been drinking vodka all day from a bottle which she claimed to be mineral water. Soon somebody would find out. But it didn't really matter because quite obviously Kenneth would be going on his travels again. And this time it might all be over and The Beeches would be sold.

  Geraldine brought Nick Ryan back to her flat for the little supper, which would be much more convenient than going to a restaurant, mainly because it would let them start their affair nice and easily. She sat down while Nick opened the bottle of wine.

  'You're a very restful person,' he said.

  Geraldine thought about it. That's probably what she was, restful. Not making demands, not whining. Never seen in a dirty pinafore, or over a sink of dirty dishes. A woman who had time to listen, a woman who, because she wouldn't see him again for three or four days, had time to rest and go to the gym and restock the fridge and the bar. Not someone who had to bring up his children, entertain his boring work contacIs, keep his house the way he liked it.

  'Restful, that's a nice compliment,' she said, 'but will you excuse me until I see if there's any news of the children?' There was a message waiting. They had been found, safe and well. Lizzie and Muttie had been driven down to Kilkenny to retrieve them. She closed her eyes with the relief of it all. You heard such terrible stories, anything could have happened to them. She came back to join Nick. 'Good news, they're on the way home,' she said, and then talked no more about it. Men didn't like people prattling on endlessly about people they didn't know. Geraldine knew a lot about men.

  Sara drove Muttie and Lizzie down to collect the children.

  'And you're sure the Mitchell family won't mind if they stay the night with us?' Lizzie asked fearfully. 'The agreement, and everything.'

  'No, Mrs Scarlet, they'd be very pleased. All of them.'

  '
It's just, we don't want to make any trouble,' Lizzie said.

  'And we're so sorry,'Muttie added.

  'But no, there's nothing for you to be sorry about, and it all ended well,' she reassured him.

  'Except for Hooves,'Muttie said.

  'They're very pleased he's not dead,' Sara said.

  'I know,' said Muttie.

  'Simon has a theory that if we got him a roller skate for his bad foot, he'd be as good as new.'

  'You love them, don't you?' Sara said suddenly.

  'Ah, well, doesn't everyone love children, all of ours went off to Chicago apart from Cathy so we've nobody here, it was great to have children around the place again.'

  'You must have been very upset after Cathy's news, then,' Sara said.

  'What do you mean?'Muttie asked.

  'If you love children so much.'

  'What news?' Lizzie said.

  With a feeling of lead in the bottom of her stomach, Sara realised that they didn't know about the miscarriage. Neil had told her it was low-key; she hadn't realised just how low.

  'I thought it was Cathy who gave you the news that Maud and Simon were found,' she said helplessly.

  'No,Muttie was there when the guards phoned,' Lizzie said.

  'And why would we be upset? We were overjoyed.'Muttie was confused.

  Sara bit her lip and told herself that she must be the worst social worker in the western hemisphere, as she drove on through the twilight to collect her charges.

  'Cathy?' The call was late. Cathy was reading in the kitchen, Neil was working at his big table.

  'Yes, who's that?'

  'It's Walter.'

  'Oh,' she said. The story that she heard had not been entirely clear, but it did appear that Walter had on this occasion managed to behave normally and had gone to the help of his little brother and sister.