Bonecrack

The black eyes looked blacker and sank into the sockets. He didn't answer.

Then there is this fixation of yours about Archangel. I'll let you ride him on the Heath as soon as you show you are good enough, and in particular responsible enough, to look after him. Whether you ever ride him in a race is up to you, more than me. But I'm doing you a favour in starting you off on less well known horses at smaller meetings. You may think you are brilliant, but you have only ridden against amateurs. I am giving you a chance to prove what you can do against professionals in private, and lessening the risk of you falling flat on your face at Newbury or Kempton.'

The eyes were unwavering. He still said nothing.

'And Indigo,' I went on, taking a grip on my anger and turning it out cold and biting, 'Indigo may have been of no use to you because he no longer raced, but if you cause the death of any more of the horses there will be just one less for you to win on.'

He moved his jaw as if with an effort.

'I didn't- cause the death of Indigo.'

I took the tin out of my pocket and gave it to him. He opened it slowly, compressed his mouth at the contents, and read the label.

'I didn't want- I didn't mean him to kill Indigo.' The supercilious smile had all gone. He was still hostile, but defensive. 'He was angry because Traffic had thrown me.'

'Did you mean him to kill Traffic, then?'

'No, I did not,' he said vehemently. 'As you said, what would be the point of killing a horse I could win a race on?'

'But to kill harmless old Indigo because you bumped your head off a horse you yourself insisted on riding-' I protested with bitter sarcasm.

His gaze, for the first time, switched to the carpet. Somewhere, deep down, he was not too proud of himself.

'You didn't tell him,' I guessed. 'You didn't tell him that you insisted on riding Traffic.'

'Miss Craig told me to,' he said sullenly.

'Not the time he threw you.'

He looked up again, and I would have sworn he was unhappy. 'I didn't tell my father I was knocked out.'

'Who did?'

'Carlo. The chauffeur.'

'You could have explained that I did not try to harm you.'

The unhappiness turned to a shade of desperation.

'You have met him,' he said. 'It isn't always possible to tell him things, especially when he is angry. He will give me anything I ask for, but I cannot talk to him.'

He went away and left me speechless.

He couldn't talk to his father.

Enso would give Alessandro anything he wanted- would smash a path for him at considerable trouble to himself and would persist as long as Alessandro hungered, but they couldn't talk.

And I- I could lie and scheme and walk a tightrope to save my father's stables for him.

But talk with him, no, I couldn't.

CHAPTER EIGHT

'Did you know,' Margaret said, looking up casually from her typewriter, 'that Alessandro is living down the road at the Forbury Inn?'

'No, I didn't,' I said, 'But it doesn't surprise me. It goes with a chauffeur-driven Mercedes, after all.'

'He has a double room to himself with a private bathroom, and doesn't eat enough to keep a bird alive.'

'How do you know all this?'

'Susie brought a friend home from school for tea yesterday and she turned out to be the daughter of the resident receptionist at the Forbury Inn.'

'Any more fascinating intimate details?' I asked.

She smiled. 'Alessandro puts on a track suit every afternoon and goes off in the car and when he comes back he is all sweaty and has a very hot bath with nice smelly oil in it.'

'The receptionist's daughter is how old?'

'Seven.'

'Proper little snooper.'

'All children are observant- And she also said that he never talks to anyone if he can avoid it except to his chauffeur in a funny language-'

'Italian,' I murmured.

'- and that nobody likes him very much because he is pretty rude, but they like the chauffeur still less because he is even ruder.'

I pondered. 'Do you think,' I said, 'that via your daughter, via her school chum, via her receptionist parent, we could find out if Alessandro gave any sort of home address when he registered?'

'Why don't you just ask him?' she said reasonably.

'Ah,' I said. 'But our Alessandro is sometimes a mite contrary. Didn't you ask him, when you completed his indentures?'

'He said they were moving, and had no address.'

'Mm,' I nodded.

'How extraordinary- I can't see why he won't tell you. Well, yes, I'll ask Susie's chum if she knows.'

'Great,' I said, and pinned little hope on it.

Gillie wanted to come and stay at Rowley Lodge.

'How about the homeless orphans?' I said.

'I could take some weeks off. I always can. You know that. And now that you've stopped wandering round industrial towns living in one hotel after another, we could spend a bit more time together.'

I kissed her nose. Ordinarily I would have welcomed her proposal. I looked at her with affection.

'No,' I said. 'Not just now.'

'When, then?'

'In the summer.'

She made a face at me, her eyes full of intelligence. 'You never like to be cluttered when you are deeply involved in something.'

'You're not clutter,' I smiled.

'I'm afraid so- That's why you've never married. Not like most bachelors because they want to be free to sleep with any offered girl, but because you don't like your mind to be distracted.'

'I'm here,' I pointed out, kissing her again.

'For one night in seven. And only then because you had to come most of the way to see your father.'

'My father gets visited because he's on the way to you.'

'Liar,' she said equably. 'The best you can say is that it's two cats with one stone.'

'Birds.'

'Well, birds, then.'

'Let's go eat,' I said; opened the front door and closed it behind us, and packed her into the Jensen.

'Did you know that Aristotle Onassis had earned himself a whole million by the time he was twenty-eight?'

'No, I didn't know,' I said.

'He beat you,' she said. 'By four times as much.'

'He's four times the man.'

Her eyes slid sideways towards me and a smile hovered in the air. 'He may be.'

We stopped for a red light and then turned left beside a church with a notice board saying 'These doth the Lord hate: a proud look, a lying tongue. Proverbs 6. 16-17'.

'Which proverb do you think is the most stupid?' she asked.

'Um- Bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.'

'Why ever?'

'Because if you build a cage round the bush you get a whole flock.'

'As long as the two birds aren't both the same sex.'

'You think of everything,' I said admiringly.

'Oh, I try. I try.'

We went up to the top of the Post Office Tower and revolved three and a half times during dinner.

'It said in The Times today that that paper firm you advised last autumn has gone bust,' she said.

'Well-' I grinned. 'They didn't take my advice.'

'Silly old them- What was it?'

'To sack ninety per cent of the management, get some new accountants, and make peace with the unions.'

'So simple, really.' Her mouth twitched.

'They said they couldn't do it, of course.'

'And you said?'

'Prepare to meet thy doom.'

'How biblical.'

'Or words to that effect.'

'Think of all those poor people thrown out of work,' she said. 'It can't be funny when a firm goes bust.'

The firm had hired people all along in the wrong proportions. By last autumn they had only productive workers for every one on the clerical, executive and maintenance staff. Also the unions were vetoing automation, and insisting that every time a worker left another should be hired in his place.'

She pensively bit into pat‚ and toast. 'It doesn't sound as if it could have been saved at all.'