Bonecrack

'He won't,' I said, with more certainty than I felt.

'But he will not just let Tommy ride Archangel, and do nothing about it. I know him- I know he will not. I know he means what he says. You don't know what he can be like- You must believe it. You must.'

'I'll do my best,' I said dryly, and Alessandro almost danced with frustration.

'Neil,' he said, and it was the only time he had used my first name, 'I am afraid for you.'

That makes two of us,' I said without seriousness, but he was not at all cheered. I looked at him with compassion. 'Don't take it so hard, boy.'

'But you don't- you don't understand.'

'I do indeed understand,' I said.

'But you don't seem to care.'

'Oh I care,' I said truthfully. I'm not mad keen on another smashing up session with your father. But I'm even less keen on crawling along the ground to lick his boots. So Tommy rides Archangel, and we keep our fingers crossed.'

He shook his head, intensely troubled. 'I know him,' he said. 'I know him-'

'Next week at Bath,' I said, 'You can ride Pullitzer in the apprentice race, and Clip Clop at Chester.'

His expression said plainly that he doubted we would ever reach next week.

'Did you ever have any brothers or sisters?' I asked abruptly.

He looked bewildered at the unconnected question. 'No- My mother had two more children after me, but they were both born dead.'

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Saturday morning, 2nd May. Two Thousand Guineas day.

The sun rose to another high golden journey over the Heath, and I inched myself uncomfortably out of bed with less fortitude than I would have admired. The thought that Enso could inflict yet more damage was one I hastily shied away from: yet I myself had blocked all his tangents and left him with only one target to aim at. Having engineered the full frontal confrontation, so to speak, it was too late to wish I hadn't.

I sighed. Were eighty-five thoroughbreds, my father's livelihood, the stable's future, and perhaps Alessandro's liberation, worth one broken collar-bone?

Well, yes, they were.

But two broken collar-bones?

God forbid.

Through the buzz of my electric razor I considered the pros and cons of the quick getaway. A well organised, unfollowed retreat to the fastnesses of Hampstead. Simple enough to arrange. The trouble was, sometime or other I would have to come back; and while I was away the stable would be too vulnerable.

Perhaps I could fill the house with guests and make sure I was never alone- but the guests would depart in a day or two, and Enso's idea of vengeance would be like Napoleon brandy, undiluted by passing time.

I struggled into a sweater and went down into the yard hoping that even Enso would see that revenge was useless if it lost you what you prized most on earth. If he harmed me any more, he would lose his son.

It had long been arranged that Tommy Hoylake should take the opportunity of his overnight stay in Newmarket to ride a training gallop in the morning. Accordingly at seven o'clock he drove his Jaguar up the gravel and stopped with a jerk outside the office window.

'Morning,' he said, stepping out.

'Morning.' I looked at him closely. 'You don't look terribly well.'

He made a face. 'Had a stomach ache all night. Threw up my dinner, too. I get like that, sometimes. Nerves, I guess. Anyway, I'm a bit better now. And I'll be fine by this afternoon, don't worry about that.'

'You're sure?' I asked with anxiety.

'Yeah.' He gave a pale grin. 'I'm sure. Like I told you, I get this upset now and again. Nothing to worry about. But look, would you mind if I don't ride this gallop this morning?'

'No,' I said. 'Of course not. I'd much rather you didn't- We don't want anything to stop you being all right for this afternoon.'

Tell you what, though. I could give Archangel his pipe-opener. Nice and quiet. How about that?'

'If you're sure you're all right?' I said doubtfully.

'Yeah. Good enough for that. Honest.'

'All right, then,' I said, and he took Archangel out accompanied by Clip Clop, and they cantered a brisk four furlongs, watched by hundreds of the thousands who would yell for him down on the racecourse that afternoon.

Etty was taking the rest of the string along to Waterhall, where several were due for a three-quarter speed mile along the Line gallop.

'Who shall we put on Lucky Lindsay, now we haven't got Tommy?' Etty said. And it presented a slight problem, because we were short of enough lads with good hands.

'I suppose we had better swop them around,' I said, 'And put Andy on Lucky Lindsay and Faddy on Irrigate, and-'

'No need,' Etty interrupted, looking towards the drive. 'Alex is good enough, isn't he?'

I turned round. Alessandro was walking down the yard, dressed for work. Long gone were the dandified clothes and the pale washed gloves: he now appeared regularly in a camel coloured sweater with a blue shirt beneath, an outfit he had copied from Tommy Hoylake on the basis that if that was what a top jockey wore to ride out in, it was what Alessandro Rivera should wear too.

There was no Mercedes waiting behind him in the drive. No watchful Carlo staring down the yard. Alessandro saw my involuntary search for the faithful attendant and he said awkwardly, 'I skipped out. They said not to come, but Carlo's gone off somewhere, so I thought I would. May I- I mean, will you let me ride out?'

'Why ever not?' said Etty, who didn't know why ever not.

'Go ahead,' I agreed. 'You can ride the gallop on Lucky Lindsay.'

He was surprised. 'But it said in all the papers that Tommy was riding that gallop this morning.'

'He's got a stomach ache,' I said, and as I saw the wild hope leap in his face, added, 'And don't get excited. He's better, and he will definitely be O.K. for this afternoon'

'Oh.'

He smothered the shattered hope as best he could and went off to fetch Lucky Lindsay. Etty was riding Cloud Cuckoo-land along with the string, but I had arranged to have George drive me down later in the Land-Rover in time to watch the gallops. The horses pulled out, circled in the paddock to sort out the riders, and went away out of the gate, turning left along the walking ground towards Waterhall.

With them went Lancat, but he, after his hard race two days earlier, was just to go as far as the main road crossing, and then turn back.

I watched them all go, glossy and elegant creatures on one of those hazy May mornings like the beginning of the world. I took a deep regretful breath. It was strange- but in spite of Enso and his son, I had enjoyed my spell as a racehorse trainer. I was going to be sorry when I had to leave. Sorrier than I had imagined. Odd, I thought. Very odd.

I walked back up the yard, talked for a few minutes to Archangel's security guard, who was taking the opportunity of his absence to go off to the canteen for his breakfast, went into the house, made some coffee, and took it into the office. Margaret didn't come on Saturdays. I drank some of the coffee and opened the morning's mail by holding the envelopes between my knees and slitting them with a paper-knife.

I heard a car on the gravel, and the slam of a door, and just missed seeing who was passing the window through misjudging the speed at which I could turn my head. Any number of people would be coming to visit the stable on Guineas' morning. Any of the owners who were staying in Newmarket for the meeting. Anyone.

It was Enso who had come. Enso with his silenced leveller. He was waving it about as usual. So early in the morning, I thought frivolously. Guns before breakfast. Damn silly.