Depression settled on him and he turned away. Maybe it would be better if he kept his distance from horses completely and concentrated his career in another area. It wasn’t the first time he’d considered the idea, though, and, as before, he found he couldn’t imagine a life without them.
The chill had penetrated his jacket and, feeling sympathy for Mouse, Ben headed back towards Jakob’s lorry. As he reached the first of the transporters a figure detached itself from the shadows and a voice asked quietly, ‘Did it help?’
Jakob.
Ben didn’t pretend to misunderstand him.
‘Not really. It never does.’
‘If you want to talk …’
‘I don’t think so. Thanks all the same.’ Ben kept walking, but slowly. In a way it was a lie. Part of him longed to talk but suppression had become a habit he was wary of breaking. It was as if to bring it out into the open would be to give his fear substance.
Jakob fell in beside him.
‘You should talk about it, Ben,’ he advised softly. ‘Fear is a natural reaction. It is nothing to be ashamed of.’
A picture of his brother as he’d last seen him – eyes closed in a white face – flashed across Ben’s mind and a fizz of remembered shock stung him, making his reply sharper than he’d intended.
‘What the hell do you know about it? You know nothing about me!’
As soon as he’d uttered the words he wished them unsaid. It was no way to speak to someone who’d shown him nothing but courtesy. He checked his stride, desperately trying to formulate an apology, but it was already too late. Jakob merely inclined his head and turned away without a word.
Damn and hell! Ben thought explosively. But how could he open up to someone he’d only just met – when he’d bottled it all up for almost twenty years? He’d never even told Lisa, for God’s sake!
Heartsick and frustrated, he gazed up into the star-filled sky, but the millions of cold pinpricks of light did nothing except ridicule his concerns.
On the edge of his vision, something moved.
Ben’s head whipped round and he stared hard into the darkness, his depression forgotten in an instant.
Nothing. Everything appeared calm.
It was tempting to just shrug it off. Movement in itself wasn’t alarming. It was probably just the loose horses having a minor disagreement and kicking up their heels. They would settle.
No. There it was again. The moonlight gleamed on something metallic, way over by the horse barn. Surely if it was one of the Csikós they would be carrying a torch, wouldn’t they?
‘Jakob!’ Ben hissed, hoping the Hungarian hadn’t gone too far. ‘Jakob, there’s someone over by the horses.’
‘Ben?’
He could hear Jakob’s feet crunching towards him over the frosty grass and was just about to repeat himself when there was a dull crack, followed immediately by a flurry of hoofbeats as the ten loose horses burst out of the barn en masse and stampeded across their corral.
‘They’ll run the fence!’ Jakob hurried to Ben’s side.
Ben was looking the other way, over towards the field’s boundary with the road.
‘Shit! The gate’s open!’ he exclaimed and broke into a run.
‘Ben!’ Jakob’s shout followed him, but he knew there wasn’t time to answer. From the sound of it, the horses had broken through the fence and some could well be heading for the gateway. Ben had the angle and distance on his side, but the horses had turn of foot emphatically on theirs.
It appeared to be a lost cause but he had to try. He’d never been any great shakes as a sprinter – his height and build leant themselves more readily to endurance running – but he was fitter than most, and he had desperation spurring him on.
That gate had been closed before the troupe turned in for the night, which meant that someone had opened it, and that could only be because they intended the horses to go through it.
The other side of the hedge was a B-road leading left towards a village, or right, a very short distance to a dual carriageway. If the horses got on to that there could be carnage.
The night was full of noise now. As Ben tore over the crisp, sparkling turf, he could hear, above the drumming hooves, a whip cracking and several people shouting. Moments later an engine started up and then lights came on, sending his shadow racing far ahead of him.
A quick look showed him that the horses had scattered and, thankfully, not all were running towards the gate, but the two or three that were were overhauling him fast. He couldn’t beat them. He’d have to try and turn them. Some hope, in a field this size.
As he sensed them drawing near, he swerved towards them, throwing up his arms and whooping as loud as he could in his breathless state.
It worked – for all of a second.
They threw up their heads, as one, and veered away from him, describing a neat semicircle before swinging back on to their original course, making a beeline for the gateway. Reaching it just yards ahead of Ben, they shot through without hesitation, their hooves slipping and sliding on the tarmac as they took the corner, turning right for the dual carriageway and chaos.
Racing through the opening some ten seconds behind them, Ben’s progress was rudely checked as he cannoned, at full speed, into someone waiting just outside. They both went sprawling on the tarmac but, carried on by his momentum, Ben rolled and came to his feet first, glancing down at the figure he’d flattened.
Dreadlocks and a ferocious scowl; even in the half-dark they were unmistakable.
Baz.
‘You stupid bastard!’ Ben yelled at him. He had intended to close the gate and then continue the chase, but Baz’s presence put paid to that plan. He’d almost certainly open it again.
Ben hesitated. Should he stay and guard the gate, or follow the runaways? Visions of broken limbs and twisted metal filled his head but, in reality, on foot, he hadn’t much hope of averting a disaster.
‘Damn you!’ Moving to shut the gate, he took out his frustration on Baz. There must have been venom in his tone because the tousled one scrambled to his feet and backed off, holding his hands in front of him as if to ward Ben off.
Keeping a wary eye on the ALSA man as he fastened the catch, Ben became aware of the sound of running feet and someone, possibly Nico, called breathlessly, ‘Ben! Stop him!’
Squinting back down the beam of light he was able to make out the silhouettes of two figures running in pursuit of a third, and braced himself to take whatever action was needed.
In the event physical force wasn’t necessary. The foremost runner saw Ben waiting and slowed up of his own accord, turning to face his pursuers and holding his hands in the air resignedly.
Nico was the first to catch up. He caught hold of one of the man’s arms, twisting it behind his back with perhaps a little more enthusiasm than was called for.
‘There’s another one here,’ Ben called, but when he turned Baz was nowhere to be seen.
The third man loped up, breathing heavily. It was Gyorgy, the ageing cook. With a word or two in his native tongue, Nico handed the prisoner over to his burly countryman and vaulted the gate to land at Ben’s side. He had obviously dressed in haste, and wore black jeans and an unzipped leather jacket over a bare torso that would have been the envy of many a fitness fanatic.
‘Where are the horses?’
‘They went towards the main road,’ Ben told him. ‘I couldn’t stop them.’
Suddenly, in the shadow of the hedge, just a few yards from them, a car engine started to turn over. In a flash, Ben was at the driver’s door, yanking it open and pulling Baz unceremoniously out on to the tarmac and taking his place.
‘Nico!’ Ben yelled, but the Hungarian was right there, sliding into the passenger seat even as he turned the key in the ignition. The starter motor did its stuff once more and after a few tense moments the engine hiccupped and started.
‘Yes!’ Ben breathed, shoving the gear lever forward. With wildly spinning tyres they were away. ‘W
ill Gyorgy be all right?’ he asked anxiously as they sped down the road.
‘Sure. No worry,’ Nico declared airily.
It only took a matter of seconds to reach the slip-road that carried traffic on to the dual carriageway, but the loose horses were nowhere to be seen.
‘What now?’ Nico asked, peering out in all directions.
‘We can only go this way, and hope,’ Ben replied, accelerating hard. Baz’s dilapidated car rattled and shook as the revs mounted.
They saw the lights first. A mess of rear lights, brake lights and hazard lights gathered up ahead.
‘Shit!’ With a sinking heart, Ben drove on, slowing up as he reached the assembled vehicles and adding the borrowed car’s hazard lights to the collection.
Nico was out of the car almost before it stopped and running between the others to reach the front. Following him, Ben pushed through the ragged line of watching motorists to the centre of the drama. There he found Nico inspecting the knees of one horse, on a verge at the side of the road, while a capable-looking woman in tweed held it by means of what looked like a dog lead looped round its neck. Another horse stood nearby, its head drooping and what looked to be a nasty gash on its shoulder. Nobody had caught hold of it yet, but it didn’t look as if it was going anywhere in a hurry.
‘Came out of bloody nowhere!’ a youngish man in jeans and a sweatshirt was proclaiming to all and sundry. ‘I ’ad no chance. No-o chance! Ran smack into the side of me. And who’s gonna pay for that, I wanna know? Looks like a bloody write-off to me and I’ve only had it a week!’
‘Don’t worry, it’ll all be taken care of,’ Ben told him soothingly, as Nico showed no signs of even having heard the man. ‘The insurance will cover it.’
He hoped to God it would, but this wasn’t really the time or place to raise the question with Nico.
‘Did anyone see another horse?’ he asked then, raising his voice to address all those standing near. ‘There were three of them.’
There were a number of negative replies but one man had seen it.
‘Took off down there like Old Nick was after it!’ he called out, pointing further down the road. ‘Probably gone into the copse.’
‘Thanks. Is that one all right, Nico?’ As far as Ben could see, the horse wasn’t badly injured.
Nico straightened. ‘I think so.’ He moved across to the other horse, which raised its head but offered no further resistance to being caught. ‘This one is worse. Tamás will have to look at it.’
‘I can hear a police car,’ someone announced and, falling silent to listen, several others murmured that they could too. Within moments the sound of the siren was unmistakable, and shortly after that the accompanying blue lights could be seen. The car appeared, racing down the opposite carriageway, braked hard as it approached the hold-up, and bumped on to the central reservation where it came to a stop, disgorging two uniformed officers who instantly took charge of the situation.
All in all, by the time the blockage on the dual carriageway had been sorted out and all the horses rounded up, the best part of two hours had passed. The stock lorry was sent to pick up the two horses caught on the road and the third, which was found grazing on the edge of the nearby copse. Tamás dressed their wounds, stitching the gashed shoulder, and, with the fence mended, they were returned with their companions to the barn area where a watch was mounted.
As far as could be established – given the chaos that had reigned – four people, probably all ALSA supporters, had taken part in the raid. Two of them had got away but Gyorgy had held on to Nico’s catch and an unmarked police car had come across Baz trying to thumb a lift and picked him up. Ben would dearly liked to have seen his face when he realised just who he’d caught a ride with.
He did see his face a little later, when the police transferred him to one of the duty cars to take him back to the station. Many of the troupe had already returned to their beds but several, Ben included, had gathered under the canopy of Gyorgy’s catering wagon for coffee and hot dogs. No doubt drawn by the prospect of refreshments, the police had been using the area as a makeshift interview room and, as he got to his feet after making a statement, Ben found himself on a collision course with Baz for the second time that night.
The ALSA man, hands secured firmly behind his back and escorted by a policeman, glared with undisguised loathing for a second or two, then spat at him.
‘Oi! That’s enough of that.’ The officer hurried Baz away but he twisted round to look over his shoulder.
‘I won’t forget this,’ he promised and, a little further on, passing Ferenc and Jeta, Ben saw him say something to them too.
Ferenc half-turned to watch him, then his eyes sought out Ben, his expression very thoughtful.
Ben had no problem getting to sleep for what little remained of the night and he slept dreamlessly until past eight, when he awoke to find himself the sole human occupant of the transporter. Mouse was there, curled up at the foot of his bunk. She’d disappeared during the confusion the night before and later, when Ben had called for her, she’d crept out from beneath one of the lorries, shaken herself and followed him to bed.
He got up and dressed, switching on his mobile phone as he did so, and was surprised to find no less than three messages on it. The first was a chatty one from Lisa, telling him that she couldn’t stop over with her mum so she’d be back at the cottage that evening after all.
The second was from Logan, saying he’d ring back another time, and the third was Truman, asking why the hell he hadn’t answered the previous messages he’d left on his landline.
Feeling that he couldn’t really face Truman before breakfast, Ben turned the mobile off again, shaved and went in search of sustenance.
He arrived at the catering wagon about the same time as Jakob, Nico and the others were starting to appear, the difference being that they had already seen to the horses. Most of the troupe members had seen him around by now, and he came in for a share of good-natured ribbing about his late rising.
‘How are the horses, the ones that got out?’ Ben asked Tamás.
‘They are good. A day or two and they’ll be good as new.’
‘They were lucky.’
‘But I still don’t understand. Why did they let them out? It was a stupid thing to do. What did they hope for?’
Ben had tried to explain the liberation group’s ideals to some of them the night before, with limited success.
‘They say they are worried for the horses and yet they let them out into the road,’ Nico said shaking his head in bewilderment. ‘It makes no sense to me.’
Ben was about to agree with him but Ferenc got in first.
‘Maybe you’re talking to the wrong man, Nico. Maybe Ben knows more about last night than he tells us.’
‘What do you mean?’ Nico asked. He looked from Ferenc to Ben and back again.
Ferenc switched to his native tongue but Ben broke in on him.
‘No! If you’re going to make accusations against me, I’ve got a right to hear what you say.’
‘He’s right.’ Jakob spoke up, coming over with a plate of toast and bacon. ‘But be careful what you say, Ferenc, Ben is our guest.’
‘All right. That man last night – the one with the … the hair,’ Ferenc made a scornful gesture with his hand to illustrate his description. ‘He said he’d met Ben before. He said Ben set us up.’
This time Nico launched briefly into Magyar before remembering and changing to English. ‘You’re crazy! How can you trust the word of a man who has just done such a thing?’
‘Had you met him before?’ Jakob asked Ben. He didn’t look particularly perturbed about it.
‘Professionally, yes. I was doing an article. We didn’t exactly hit it off.’ He didn’t feel that relating the circumstances of his last run-in with Baz would help his cause.
‘Ben helped us last night, Ferenc. I think you must be forgetting that.’ Jakob took a large bite of his bacon sandwich and then spoke through
it. ‘Does anyone else have anything to say about it?’
Apparently nobody had, but Ben wasn’t altogether happy.
‘I can defend myself, Jakob. Thank you all the same.’
Jakob shook his head emphatically.
‘But as our guest you shouldn’t have to. No, it is finished now. We’ll hear no more of it.’
For a moment there was an awkward silence and then Emil and Miklós started to discuss plans for the day and the talk became more general. Slanting a surly look at Ben, Ferenc shrugged his shoulders, picked up his bacon roll and walked away.
‘Emil and I are going to teach Melles a new trick today,’ Jakob told Ben after a while. ‘Would you like to watch?’
‘Oh, I’d love to, but I don’t think I can,’ Ben said with genuine regret. ‘I think I’m going to have to leave you for a day or two.’
‘Not because of Ferenc?’
‘No. I have another job, which I’ve been neglecting. I’ve had messages on my phone. My client is getting impatient.’
‘But you will come back to us?’ Jakob seemed anxious that he should.
‘Yes, I will. But it may not be until your next stop.’
‘You should come and see us move – it’s quite impressive.’
‘I’d like to. Maybe I will.’
‘Hey, Gyorgy! Any breakfast left or are we too late?’ A feminine voice called out, and Ben glanced up to see Jeta and Anna coming across the field. It was a crisp, bright morning after the clear night and the two girls wore faded denim jeans, thick jumpers and fleeces. Slim and dark, with long, shiny black hair, they were very easy on the eye, and something of Ben’s appreciation must have shown in his face because Jakob said with a wry smile, ‘Good to look at but hell to live with!’
‘Who?’ Ben asked, surprised. ‘Jeta? Or Anna?’
‘Women in general, and Romani women in particular. But I guess you’ll have to find out for yourself.’
Ben shook his head. ‘Not me. I’ve got a girlfriend.’
‘Well, don’t tell Jeta that. What is the saying? A red rag to the bull. Is your girl pretty?’
Outside Chance Page 12
