“But he is all set for Monday?”
“Sure is,” said Luca with a grin. “Norman Joyner’s coming too.”
“Good,” I said. “Do they know?”
“They think it’s the same as last time, at Ascot,” he said.
“Good,” I said. “It will be as far as they are concerned.”
The Saturday crowd was beginning to build, with cars queuing for the popular parking-and-picnic enclosure alongside the running rail. Even the weather had cooperated, with blue skies and only the occasional puffy white cloud. A glorious English-summer day at the races. What could be better than this?
I suppose six losing short-priced favorites would be good.
Just as I was starting to relax from my earlier anxiety and was actually beginning to enjoy the day, my two nonfriends from Kempton and Towcester turned up and stood in front of me. Once more, they were wearing their uniforms, short-sleeved white shirts and black trousers, plus the work boots. I was on my platform at the time, which gave me a height advantage for a change. It also gave me some courage.
“I thought I told you boys to bugger off,” I said down to them.
“Our boss wants to talk to you,” said the spokesman of the two.
“Well, I don’t want to talk to him,” I said. “So go away.”
I felt reasonably confident that they wouldn’t start a physical assault just here, not with hundreds of witnesses about.
“He wants to make you an offer,” said the spokesman.
“Which part of ‘go away’ didn’t you understand?” I said to him.
They didn’t move an inch but stood full square in front of me. It wasn’t very good for my business.
“He wants to buy you out.” It was like a stuck record.
“Tell him to come and see me himself if he wants to talk,” I said, “rather than sending a pair of his goons.”
Thoughts of poking hornet’s nests with sticks floated into my head. And I’d been the one to warn Larry against doing it.
“You are to come with us,” the man said.
“You must be joking,” I said, almost with a laugh. “I’m not going anywhere with you two. Now, move out of the bloody way. I’ve got a bookmaking business to run.”
They didn’t move.
Luca and Duggie came on the platform and stood on either side of me, and a staring match ensued, us three against them two. It was like a prelude to a gunfight at the O.K. Corral. But who was going to go for their guns first?
“Sod off,” said Duggie suddenly, breaking the silence.“Why don’t you two arseholes go and play with your balls somewhere else?”
They both turned their full attention to him, this young slip of a lad who I still thought looked only about fourteen years old.
The talkative arsehole opened his mouth as if to say something.
“Save it,” said Duggie, beating him to the draw. “Now, piss off.”
There was something about the boy’s assured confidence in the face of physical threat that had even me a little scared. The two men in front of me definitely wavered.
“We’ll be back,” the talkative one said.
But Duggie wasn’t finished with them. “The man here told you he wasn’t coming with you to see your boss, so go away now and stay away.” He sounded so reasonable. “Go on, scram, and you can tell your boss it’s no deal.”
The men looked at him like two big sheep under the gaze of a tiny Border collie puppy, and then, slowly, they moved to the side and walked away.
Both Luca and I watched them go out of sight around the grandstand, and then we turned to Duggie in astonishment. He was smiling.
“All brawn and no brain,” he said. “Guys like them need orders to follow. Can’t think for themselves.”
If I hadn’t seen it myself, I wouldn’t have believed it.
“My God, Duggie,” I said, “you were brilliant. Where on earth did you learn to do that?”
“The streets of High Wycombe are not so friendly as some people would like to think,” he said. “Friday and Saturday nights can be rough, I can tell you, bloody rough.”
“I think he just completed his probation,” Luca said.
“Damn right, he did,” I said. “Welcome to the firm.”
Duggie beamed. “Just so long as you don’t sell out to those guys.”
“No chance.” Luca and I said it together.
The rest of the day was tame by comparison to what had gone before. The six favorites didn’t all lose, but, nevertheless, our afternoon was both profitable and enjoyable, with Duggie warming to his newfound permanent status.
He was a natural showman, with a quick wit, and as his confidence grew he became a great success with the punters. He hardly stopped talking and bantering with them all afternoon. There was no doubt in my mind that we did far more business because of it. Some of our neighboring bookies weren’t too pleased, however, especially when Duggie would shout across to their potential customers that they could get a better deal from us, even if they couldn’t.
But our neighbors were not our friends, they were our competition. In a way, I was quite pleased that Larry Porter had been at Nottingham. I didn’t want to antagonize him before Monday. I needed his unwitting cooperation.
The two goons didn’t reappear at our pitch, but I was worried they might be waiting for us outside the racetrack gates, or in the parking lot, where there would be fewer witnesses for them to worry about. I didn’t exactly relish another of their “messages” being applied to my solar plexus.
“Where are you parked?” I asked Luca as we packed the equipment onto our trolley.
“Across the road in the free parking lot,” he said.
“Good, so am I. Let’s keep together when we go just in case we find we have unwelcome company.”
“Too bloody right,” he said.
“Wait for me, then,” said Duggie. “I’m just going for a pee.”
He ran off towards the Gents’, leaving Luca and me standing beside the trolley.
“Any movement on the Sister Millie front?” I asked, unable to contain my curiosity any longer.
He smiled broadly. “Negotiations are continuing,” he said. “But, as yet, there has been no breakthrough. She wants to, but she thinks Betsy will murder her if she does. And she’s probably right. But it certainly makes life interesting.”
“Just don’t let her meet Duggie,” I said, “or you’ll have no chance.”
He pulled a face at me. “Yes, all right, Grandpa,” he said. It was only meant as a joke, but it brought back in a wave all that I had been trying to banish from my consciousness.
The tears welled in my eyes, and I turned away from him, embarrassed by such a show of emotion.
“God,” he said, “I’m sorry.”
“I’m fine,” I said, not feeling it, and also not turning back.
“Anything you want to talk about?”
“No,” I replied.
Duggie appeared from the Gents’ to save me from further inquisition.
“OK, then,” Duggie said cheerfully, “let’s go get ’em.”
I’m glad he’s so keen, I thought. I would much rather let “’em” go without us.
As it was, much to Duggie’s obvious disappointment, my fears were unfounded. There was no sign of the goons outside the racetrack entrance and none in the parking lot either. Perhaps they had received further instruction from their mystery boss. However, I would still keep a wary eye open for a black BMW 4× 4 on my way home.
I didn’t believe that I had seen the last of them.
On Sunday, Luca and I had planned to be at Market Rasen races in Lincolnshire, but we decided that with the two goons still on the prowl, and with our plans for Monday, it was prudent to lie low for a day. To say nothing of shifty-eyed Kipper, who might still be lurking in some other parking lot with his twelve-centimeter knife looking for his missing money.
Anyway, it suited me to spend a day with Sophie, especially as Alice was departing back to her home in Surrey. Sadly, she was not going permanently but just to do some washing and to gather some different clothes.