‘And you think that will make a difference?’
‘Certainly should,’ he said. ‘About a length per pound over a mile. It’s like Momentum having a nine-length start over the highest-rated horse. And I tend to think that he’s better than the official handicapper does.’
It sounded simple but it was, in fact, far more complicated than I’d imagined. No wonder Ryan had needed to concentrate to do his entries – choosing the right horse with an appropriate rating to enter into a given class of race over a suitable distance at the most advantageous racecourse on a specific day, and all to give it the best chance of finishing in front.
The five of us stood and watched as the nine runners circled around us and, presently, we were joined by Tony wearing racing silks with a green body, light-blue arms and a matching light-blue cap. The Morris’s colours, I assumed.
Tony touched the peak of his cap in deferential greeting to the owners but without acknowledging his brother one iota. The atmosphere between them was cool, to say the least.
‘Hold him in the pack until the two-furlong pole and then let him go,’ Ryan ordered. Tony nodded. ‘And don’t get boxed in on the rail.’ Tony nodded again and grunted something I didn’t catch.
At least the two were communicating, even if the exchange lacked any social niceties.
An official rang a bell and Oliver, Tony and Ryan walked over towards Momentum. The horse was still doing its best to pull itself free from the lad but, eventually, Tony managed to collect the reins in his hands, and Ryan tossed him up onto the saddle.
‘It’s so exciting to have a runner,’ Michelle said to me as we stood some way off, out of range of both snapping teeth and thrashing feet.
‘Yes,’ I said. And it must be, I thought, with all the years of effort she and Mike must have put in to get their ‘baby’ to the racecourse, balls and all. But I wasn’t sure that the horse’s jockey was finding the prospect of the contest quite as thrilling as its owner.
Rather you than me, I thought, as Tony tried to control half a ton of crazy racehorse with nothing more than a few small pieces of leather, and with no seat belt.
‘Don’t mess it up,’ Ryan said to his brother as a farewell comment.
I watched as Tony mouthed an obscenity back along the lines that Ryan should go forth and multiply. The two might be communicating but it was clearly not the happiest of working relationships.
At least Momentum seemed to have calmed down a bit now that he had someone on his back, although he still gave a couple of token bucks as he left the paddock.
‘Do you think we’ll win?’ Michelle eagerly asked Oliver.
‘I hope so,’ he said, although without much enthusiasm. ‘Some of our results recently have been rather a disappointment.’
And the result of this race was a bit of a disappointment too.
Surprisingly, both owners and trainer remained in the parade ring to watch the race unfold on a large-screen television set up nearby, so, I stayed with them. Ryan didn’t like it one bit and he had a scowl on his face as if he’d swallowed a wasp.
Oliver and Ryan were very unalike, I thought. Oliver had charm and charisma whereas Ryan was coarse and uncouth. Ryan was also a bit of a thug, used to getting his own way and to hell with everyone else.
But I presented them with a major problem. I was the personal representative of one of, if not the most important of their owners. I had a direct line to Sheikh Karim, who they could hardly afford to lose at any time, and certainly not in their present circumstances.
Oliver was playing the game, swallowing his pride and being polite, explaining things to me when he’d probably prefer me to get lost. For Ryan, however, the situation was more of a challenge and, as he had so clearly demonstrated the previous evening, his natural aggression readily prevailed over logic and reason.
And, on top of everything else, Ryan was failing to measure up to his father’s reputation as one of the great Newmarket trainers. And both of them knew it.
Momentum jumped out of the stalls in line with the other runners and then Tony positioned him towards the rear of the pack.
‘Come on, baby,’ Michelle shouted at the screen, hardly able to resist jumping up and down. Mike just smiled and held her hand.
‘He’s too far back,’ Ryan hissed. ‘In the pack, I said, not at the back of it.’
The horses were running on the straight mile directly towards the grandstand, the camera angle tending to foreshorten the distance from first to last. Nevertheless, even I could see that the lead horse was getting away from the others.
‘Hopeless,’ Oliver said, seemingly unaware that Mike and Michelle Morris were hanging on his every word.
We watched as Tony pulled Momentum out from behind the horse immediately in front of him and started to make some headway. As they passed the two-furlong pole, Tony went for his whip and gave his mount a couple of reminders to get going faster. But sadly for him, and despite all his considerable efforts, the horse just plodded on at the same steady pace, passing the winning post a frustrating sixth of the nine.
The official handicapper had been right all the time.
Ryan was apoplectic with rage. ‘That wretched Tony. Why didn’t he do as he was bloody told?’
I personally thought he had done so but, on this occasion, I decided not to say something provocative. I rather valued the straightness of my nose.
Oliver, meanwhile, just sighed heavily and kicked the turf in frustration.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Better luck next time.’
If there is a next time, I thought. The owners were obviously unhappy. Their earlier optimism had been crushed, leaving nothing but frustration and anger, much of it clearly directed towards the trainer and his father.
The five of us went, not to the winner’s enclosure as hoped, but to the place reserved for the unsaddling of the also-rans and waited for the horse and jockey to return. Ryan was working himself up into a real state again, just like on the previous evening. Thankfully, this time, it wasn’t me in his sights.
I didn’t fancy being in Tony’s stirrups.
‘You were far too far back,’ Ryan complained loudly when Tony slid down off the horse. ‘You never gave him a chance.’
‘I gave him every chance,’ Tony replied icily, removing his saddle. ‘When I asked him for an effort at the two-pole there was nothing left. Tank empty.’
‘Nonsense,’ Oliver said. ‘You just didn’t ride him well enough.’
The three of them seemed oblivious to the presence of me and the Morrises, who stood there in shocked silence listening to the Chadwick family confrontation.
Tony faced his brother and father. ‘I won’t ride for you ever again. In your opinion, every horse you run these days seems to be underperforming. I suggest you both look in the mirror before you start blaming everyone else.’ And, with that still ringing in their ears, he turned away and disappeared into the weighing room.
I wondered if now might be a good time to ask him if he knew why Ryan had broken Declan’s nose.
22
Michelle and Mike Morris went off to drown their sorrows in the owners’ bar while I hung around outside the weighing room waiting for Tony.
According to the racecard, he had no further rides that afternoon, but it still wasn’t until after the fourth race that he finally appeared.
In the meantime, one of Declan’s horses won the second, which would probably do nothing for Ryan’s demeanour. I watched as Joe led the horse into the space reserved for the winner and he even had a bit of a smile on his face. Miracles will never cease.
Tony came out of the weighing room wearing a green polo shirt and light-coloured chinos and made a beeline for the exit and the jockeys’ car park. If I hadn’t been on my toes, I’d have missed him completely.
‘Tony,’ I called loudly after him.
He slowed and turned but I could tell he wasn’t keen to stop and talk so I hurried along beside him.
‘Shame about
Momentum,’ I said. ‘Your father is very upset.’
‘My father is always upset these days,’ he said. ‘He should never have retired so soon. Harry Wragg was almost eighty before he passed his stable over to his son. Dad should have done the same.’
‘But he still seems to be very involved,’ I said.
‘Too involved, if you ask me. He should just let Ryan get on with it, let him sink or swim on his own. Sink, probably, the way things are going at the moment. Prince of Troy was his only hope, and now he’s gone.’
‘It must be very difficult for your father to let go when he lives on site and still owns the stables.’
‘That was his big mistake. He should have sold it. Caused all sorts of resentment when he just seemed to hand it all to Ryan.’
‘Resentment from whom?’ I asked.
‘Declan, for a start.’
‘And you?’
He suddenly stopped and looked at me.
‘Why are you asking me all these questions?’
‘I’m trying to find out why Prince of Troy died.’
‘And what has that to do with my father passing his stable to Ryan?’
Everything, I thought.
‘I’m just trying to understand the Chadwick family dynamic.’
‘Snoop, more like. I have to go.’
He turned on his heel and walked away.
‘I have one more question,’ I said, but he just waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder and kept on walking. So I shouted after him, ‘Why did Ryan break Declan’s nose at Doncaster?’
He stopped and walked back towards me.
‘Be careful,’ he said menacingly. ‘For your own good, there are some things you shouldn’t ask.’
‘Are you threatening me, Tony?’
‘No, I’m just warning you. Don’t ask that again.’
‘I won’t,’ I assured him. ‘That is, I won’t if you tell me the answer now.’
He simply stared at me.
‘What is it that no one is talking about?’
‘None of your business.’
He turned again and jogged away out of the racecourse exit.
It will all come out. I can’t stand the shame.
It must be something big, I thought, to unite this family together when everything else was tearing them apart.
I was waiting at reception when Mrs Williams arrived at the Bedford Lodge Hotel just before six o’clock, still wearing her Tattersalls uniform but carrying an overnight bag.
‘I brought it with me this morning,’ she said with a smile. ‘Saves me having to go home to change. Everyone asked me at work where I was going.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I told them I was going away for the weekend to stay with a friend. But I think they all knew it was you.’
‘Was it that obvious?’
‘I think it was last night at the races,’ she said. ‘And you were a huge hit with the girls up at Park Paddocks this morning.’
She was pleased, and so was I, for her benefit.
‘Would you like a drink at the bar?’ I asked.
‘I think I’ll change first,’ she said. ‘We’re not really supposed to drink in public wearing our uniforms.’
‘You did the other night,’ I said.
‘I know, but that was last-minute and unexpected. Also, there might be people staying here tonight for the races who are our customers.’
So we went to my room, hand in hand, with me carrying her suitcase.
‘Do you want me to go?’ I asked, conscious that she might not want an audience while she changed.
‘No, it’s fine. I’ll change in the bathroom.’
She went in and closed the door and, while I waited, I flicked on the TV to watch the six o’clock news. However, as I thought was so often the case, the ‘news’ was largely BBC opinion served up as fact. I turned it off again.
‘How are you doing?’ I called out to Kate.
‘Just coming,’ she shouted back.
The bathroom door opened and she emerged, but she was clearly not yet properly dressed for a drink at the bar.
She was wearing only a hotel bathrobe, and it hung open at the front revealing all the splendours within.
‘Wow!’ I said.
About an hour and a half later we walked along to the hotel bar for that drink.
Sex between us had been a combination of a journey of discovery and primal human eagerness. We puffed and panted a lot, but we also laughed and, when it was over, we lay entwined together, sweaty and naked on the bed in happy satisfaction.
‘God, I needed that,’ Kate said. ‘It’s been a long time.’
‘For me too,’ I agreed.
Neither of us asked the other how long exactly. It wasn’t important.
‘I should have ordered champagne and strawberries,’ I said.
‘Why strawberries?’
‘Well, according to Richard Gere in Pretty Woman, it brings out the flavour of the champagne.’
‘I absolutely adore that film,’ Kate said, rolling over onto her elbows. ‘Especially that bit when Julia Roberts goes back into the shop where the two bitches have been so nasty to her and then holds up all her shopping bags: “You work on commission, right? Mistake. Big mistake. Huge!” ’
We spent a while arguing over which bit of the film was the best and agreed, in the end, that we both loved the scene at the end when the knight (Edward) arrives on his white horse (standing up through the sunroof of a white stretch limo) with his drawn sword (umbrella) to climb up a rope (fire escape) to rescue the princess (Vivian) from the wicked queen’s tower (apartment block).
What a pair of right softies, we were. And we loved it.
‘Champagne?’ asked the barman. He was the same one as had been on duty on Wednesday evening.
‘Yes, please,’ I said. ‘And some strawberries.’
Kate started giggling and that set me off too.
We sat in the bar and consumed a bottle of champagne and a whole punnet of strawberries, and then decided against having room service after all, opting for dinner à deux in Squires Restaurant.
We took our time, enjoying each other’s company and the wine, in the sure knowledge of what we would be having for dessert.
‘What did you do at the races today?’ Kate asked over the main course.
I told her about the mad Momentum’s race and my various interactions with Oliver, Ryan and Tony.
‘Poor Janie,’ Kate said. ‘She hasn’t had the best of times there since Ryan took over. And I know both the fire and Zoe’s death have hit her badly.’
‘Does she have a theory of who started it?’ I asked.
‘I think she’s trying to blot it out of her thinking completely. She was so upset about the poor horses dying and then to learn that Zoe was in there as well has just about finished her off.’
I remembered back how my just mentioning the fire to her had caused the tears to flow.
‘She knew Zoe quite well then?’
‘I wouldn’t say well, not in recent years, anyway. She knew her a bit better at school. Janie was like a big sister to her at one point. I think Janie was sorry for her, but she also upset her.’
‘How?’
‘Zoe was quite disturbed. She made things up about people. She also used to cut herself, you know, on the arms and such with a razor blade. She used to tell Janie that her brothers did it but once she told a teacher that it had been Janie’s doing. We had the child-protection lot around to our house fast as lightning. I think that caused the end of their friendship.’
‘I’m going to see Zoe’s husband tomorrow,’ I said.
‘Are you indeed. What about?’
‘I’m not really sure. I just feel he must know something. I want to see how he reacts when I get there.’
‘Where’s there?’
‘Ealing,’ I said.
‘Does he know you’re coming?’
‘No.’ I smiled. ‘I’m going to just try my luck and se
e if he’s in.’
‘And what if he isn’t?’
‘Then I will have wasted my journey,’ I said. ‘But I want to go to my flat anyway to collect a few things, more clothes, for example. I also thought I might stay over Saturday night just to let the neighbours realise that I haven’t scarpered altogether.’
‘Can I come with you?’ she asked eagerly.
My first instinct was to say no, and for two reasons. First, I didn’t really want to involve her directly in what I was doing as I feared it might all result in some damaging fallout. And secondly, I wasn’t sure in what state I’d left my flat. Usually, it was not good, especially on a Monday morning, which is when I’d last been there.
‘I could look after his kids while you talk to Peter Robertson.’
‘Haven’t you got plans for the weekend?’
‘Nothing that can’t be changed. And I’d love a night in London. Perhaps we could see a show.’
She was so excited. How could I say no?
‘All right, you can come,’ I said. ‘Which show do you fancy?’
‘A musical. Absolutely love them.’
There followed a lengthy discussion on which was the best musical we had ever seen, and we finally left the dining room with her singing ‘Don’t Cry for Me Argentina’ to try to prove to me that it was the best song ever written.
I tried hard to ignore her.
That was, until we arrived at my bedroom, then the opposite was true.
Lovemaking the second time around was more relaxed, slower, and more passionate. The need was still there but the hunger was less desperate.
I ran my fingertips over her bare skin, making her shiver with excitement and anticipation, and then I hugged her close to me, wanting to feel as one with another human being like I had never felt before.
The emotion was so powerful, and that, as much as the physical exertion, left me drained and exhausted.
Crisis Page 20
