‘Will Lord Ronald Ronald come to the Steward’s Office please.’
‘Excuse me a jiff dear boy. The chaps must require my assistance, or there awaits a hot tip.’
‘But I have a hot tip for you Rashers. Number six, Rumoured Ghost.’
‘No thank you.’
‘Rashers I’m sure.’
‘Dear boy. Word from my trusted inner sanctum is Ulidia Princess The Second. Just look at her. Like a coiled steel spring. But of course don’t let me dissuade you from promptly doubling or even tripling your stakes on your choice dear boy. Be right back.’
‘Rashers. I haven’t a bloody cent but this fiver left.’
‘Now now not to worry. You always know, don’t you that your banker stands right in front of you, ready to lend. Give that fiver to me. I’ll pop it on for you with a little something extra. And apropos of nothing at all dear boy. Did you know that it requires a tart to be a first rate actress, and it requires a wife to be only second rate. Ta ta.’
Rashers irrepressible, as well as being a ready philosopher, did of course over the days, back more than a few no hopers. But undeniably did, every few races, return again with an enormous fist full of fivers. And one’s heart was more than a little in dilemma over his certainty of Ulidia Princess. And back in the enclosure, just at the off, as one tapped one’s cold toes up and down, he steamed up beside me effusively confident as well as overjoyed.
‘Dear boy. Do you know what that was all about. Honestly today is my day. It utterly is. I’ve just been asked to become a member of the Jockey Club.’
‘How wonderful Rashers.’
‘Yes isn’t it. And I have my sad chap placed your bet for you. Pity you’re missing such a damn good thing at thirty five to one dear boy.’
‘But Rumoured Ghost is fifty to one.’
‘Of course it is. Surprised it’s not a hundred to one. Out of an unknown stable, trained by a trainer no one’s heard of. Like this nag, nine, Knocknamuck. Imagine, such a downtrodden name for a horse. You did however didn’t you, see what a lovely muscled, lean in the loins filly Ulidia Princess is. Her balletic dainty feet actually thrive in heavy ground. Turf is riding very dead today dear boy. An up and coming jockey upon her. Of course the very hush hush news that the brakes are well and truly off was only out at the very last second. Had only two previous leisurely outings. And she is out of the stable dear boy that bred Tinkers Revenge. Won at a hundred to one last year.’
‘Which I backed with an enormous bet, Rashers.’
‘What. O my god did you.’
‘Yes I did. And from such winnings I also loaned you a fiver.’
‘Did you.’
‘Yes I did.’
‘Ah dear boy, it shows you doesn’t it. How much I have to thank you for, doesn’t it. But please don’t answer that too provocative a reflection. But you know one does find it irritating if we look about us that far too many are wearing emblems associated with the hound and fox. You would think, wouldn’t you that they would need a breather from adorning as they do their scarves, cars, lapels, ties with such creatures. Ah but we must pay attention to the race. Here’s your ticket dear boy. And it’s not one to Dalkey. Sad for you, but I’ve put your fiver on your fifty to one shot.’
‘Thank you Rashers.’
‘Please remember, Earl of Ronald Ronald. Soon to be a member of an august body.’
‘Sorry your Lordship.’
‘Ah isn’t it good to be alive. At the start of a race. As the heart pounds hopefully. One’s life now free from gurriers, vandals and galoots. And all other disgraceful contretemps. No longer having to crucify one’s spirit in the catacombs or besmirch one’s day by cowering in under those three golden balls.’
‘To pawn someone else’s silver.’
‘O dear, dear boy. Must you. Yes yes. I did. I did. But please instead let me draw your attention to this race. They’re just rounding the first turn. All over the first jump. Ah the field nicely sorting themselves out a little.’
Rashers temporarily silent, nearly taking one’s arm off. As he was clearly having a heart attack. Especially at each jump. His filly from the off, was running last. Despite his shouting, grabbing and tugging me.
‘Don’t dismay dear boy. Ulidia Princess is keeping a sedate pace. Won’t make her move till a jump to go. Saves every ounce of energy for those coiled steel quarters of hers. We shall see her dainty pasterns stretching over the emerald grass blades in the final furlong, her hoofs bombarding the nags distantly following with a veritable plethora of wet sods.’
‘She’s last Rashers.’
‘May be. But the Princess took that jump foot perfect. Any moment, just watch, she’ll leave the rest of the field well and truly stranded. I mean your old nag’s not doing badly up fourth, Darcy.’
‘Third, Rashers, according to the announcer’s voice. And if my own eyes don’t deceive me.’
As one cheerfully reminded his present Lordship that Rumoured Ghost was in the thick of the leaders, one’s heart began sinking as Ulidia Princess began coming. Unbelievably from last. Way way out on the outside.
‘Like a rocket dear boy. You see. Like a veritable bloody rocket is she blazing towards the post.’
Each momentary second he put his binoculars aside, Rashers socking me so hard on the shoulder, nearly knocking me over. Getting more and more hysterical with the Princess overtaking the field with three furlongs to go.
‘My one hundred quid dear boy, rides flying upon her. One hundred bloody wonderful magnificent quid. Come on you Princess namesake of the bloody north. Show your ruddy bloody elegant heels. Look at that. Whoopee hooray.’
‘Rashers, please. You’ve got me by the collar and throat.’
Rashers was, his binoculars momentarily dropped on his chest, actually throttling me. His face grinning ear to ear at my dismay. And two furlongs to go. With the announcer now bellowing.
‘Out in front now. Last to first in a furlong. Ulidia Princess. Six lengths ahead of the field. And Rumoured Ghost. Coming fast. It’s still Ulidia Princess. A length on Rumoured Ghost who’s gaining ground. Every stride. It’s Rumoured Ghost now, neck and neck with Ulidia Princess.’
Rashers’ jaw more than slightly dropping open. His mouth suddenly chewing air. His head craning forward behind his binoculars. As I chose now to give him a good bloody solid punch on the arm. The announcer quite utterly hoarse, shouting, screaming, nearly out of his mind.
‘No one else in it now. This is a sensation. Two rank outsiders now. Seven lengths in front of the field. A furlong to go. Stride for stride. Leaving two Ascot winners and a winner of the Arc de Triomphe in their wake. Nothing between them. One hundred yards to go. Still neck and neck. Ear to ear. Nostril to nostril. Fifty yards. Twenty. It is. It is. Rumoured Ghost. Yes it is. It’s Rumoured Ghost. Over the line. By a whisker, if not a nose. Rumoured Ghost the winner.’
Rashers putting his binoculars slowly down. As one let out one’s own whoopee and hooray. Beaming all one’s teeth for a change in his direction. And perhaps cheer up his ruddy face paler than pale, drained of blood. Even the flecks of bright colour in his tweed coat seemed to fade. As one’s own mind conjured warmth. Hope. As one might have, making hay under the summer sultry skies. And a red sun, redder, sinking in the west.
‘Ah your Lordship, so sorry you sad chap. For you to have lost. Didn’t I tell you I had a hot tip. Don’t you know I’m an old friend and true horseman who can tell speed and stamina in the glint of an equine eye. O what relief. God. How many bloody days. Finally a winner. Not only pay one’s hotel bill but wages for a fortnight. Lime a hundred acres of pasture. See my tailor, too. I am highly cheered up. Come. No glum jaw now.’