‘Not if you’re thinking of driving it over Beachy Head.’
‘I’m not,’ I said.
‘Well, I’m relieved to hear it. But if you change your mind, let me know and I’ll join you.’ His voice was light and mocking; the desperate truth underneath needed no stating.
‘I want to call at some stables,’ I began.
‘Whose?’ he interrupted.
‘Several people’s... about six altogether, I think, apart from Axminster’s. And Kellar’s. I’ll have to go there as well.’
‘You’ve got a nerve,’ said Tick-Tock.
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘You’re about the only person in the country who thinks so.’
‘Damn it... I didn’t mean...’
I grinned into the telephone. ‘Save it. Where’s the car now?’
‘Outside the window.’
‘I’ll come down to Newbury by train and pick it up, if you’ll meet me at the station,’ I said.
‘It’s no use going to any stables today,’ he said. ‘The trainers will all be at the races.’
‘Yes, I sincerely hope so,’ I agreed.
‘What are you up to?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘Retrieving the fallen fortunes of the House of Finn,’ I said. ‘I’ll catch the 10.10. You meet it. O.K.?’ And I put the receiver down, hearing and ignoring, a protesting ‘Hey’ before I cut him off.
But when I stepped off the train at Newbury he was waiting, dressed in a dandyish waisted riding jacket of almost eighteenth-century length on top of some unbelievably narrow cavalry cord trousers. He enjoyed his moment ironically while I looked him up and down.
‘Where’s the cravat, the ruffles and the sword?’ I asked.
He said ‘You don’t get the message. I’m tomorrow’s man. My sword will be a do-it-yourself instant anti-radiation kit. You must fit your defence to the danger you meet...’ He grinned.
Young Tick-Tock, I reflected, not for the first time, took an uncompromisingly realistic view of the world.
He opened the car door and settled himself behind the wheel.
‘Where to?’ he said.
‘You’re not coming,’ I said.
‘I certainly am. This car is half mine. Where it goes, I go.’ He was clearly determined. ‘Where to?’
‘Well...’ I got in beside him, fished out of my pocket a list I had made on the train, and showed it to him. ‘These are the stables I want to go to. I’ve tried to arrange them in order so that there isn’t too much back-tracking, but even so it means a lot of driving.’
‘Phew,’ he said. ‘There’s a lot of them. Hampshire, Sussex, Kent, Oxford, Leicester and Yorkshire... how long will you be staying in each place? We’ll never cover this lot in one day. Especially as you look tired already.’
I glanced at him, but he was looking down at the paper. It was true that I felt tired, but disconcerting that it should be so obvious. I had thought that the shave and breakfast and the return of self-confidence would have wiped away the ravages of the previous day and night.
‘You needn’t come,’ I began.
‘We’ve been through all that,’ he interrupted. ‘We’ll start by going to your digs and mine for overnight things, and then make for Kent. And on the way you can tell me why we’re going.’ He calmly let in the clutch and drove off; and truth to tell I was very glad of his company.
We collected our things, and Tick-Tock pointed the Mini-Cooper’s blunt nose towards the first stable on the list, Corin Kellar’s, in Hampshire.
‘Now,’ he said. ‘The works.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m not going to tell you why we’re going. Listen and watch, and then you tell me.’
‘You’re a cagey blighter,’ he said, without arguing. He added, ‘I suppose you’ve taken into account all that about saps rushing in where angels wouldn’t plonk their holy feet? I mean, to put it mildly, we are neither of us in the red carpet bracket just now. Strictly doomsville, us.’
‘You are so right,’ I said, smiling.
Tick-Tock turned his head and gave me a surprised stare.
‘Keep your eyes on the road,’ I said mildly.
‘I’ll never know you,’ he said. ‘I’d have thought you’d take it very hard... what has happened... but since I picked you up at the station I’ve felt more cheerful than I have for weeks.’ His foot went down on the accelerator and he began to whistle.
We arrived at Corin’s extensive, well-groomed stable while the lads were doing up the horses after the second morning exercise. Arthur, the head lad, was crossing the yard with a bucket of oats when we climbed out of the little car, and the crinkling smile with which he usually greeted me got half-way to his eyes before he remembered. I saw the embarrassment take over and the welcome fade away.
‘The guvnor isn’t here,’ he said awkwardly. ‘He’s gone to the races.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘Can I speak to Davey?’
Davey was the lad who looked after Shantytown.
‘I suppose so,’ said Arthur doubtfully, ‘but you won’t make no trouble?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘No trouble. Where is he?’
‘Fourth box from the end over that side,’ he said, pointing. Tick-Tock and I walked over, and found Davey tossing and tidying the straw bed round a big chestnut. Shantytown. We leaned over the bottom half of the door, and watched Davey’s expression too change from warmth to disgust. He was a short, tough, sixteen-year-old boy with flaming red hair and an intolerant mouth. He turned his back on us and ran his hand down the horse’s neck. Then he spat into the straw. Tick-Tock took a sharp breath and his hands clenched into fists.
I said quickly, ‘Davey, there’s a quid for you if you feel like talking a bit.’
‘What about?’ he said, without turning round.
‘About the day I rode Shantytown at Dunstable,’ I said. ‘Three weeks ago. Do you remember?’
‘I’ll say I remember,’ he said offensively.
I ignored his tone. ‘Well, tell me what happened from the moment you arrived on the course until I got up on Shantytown in the parade ring.’
‘What the hell do you mean,’ he said, wheeling round and coming over to the door. ‘Nothing happened. What should happen?’
I took a pound note out of my wallet and gave it to him. He looked at it for a second or two, then shrugged, and thrust it into his pocket.
‘Start when you set off from here. Don’t leave anything out,’ I said.
‘Are you off your nut?’ he said.
‘No,’ I said, ‘and I want my quid’s worth.’
He shrugged again, but said, ‘We went in the horse box from here to Dunstable, and...’
‘Did you stop on the way?’ I asked.
‘Yes, Joe’s Caff, same as always when we go to Dunstable.’
‘Did you see anyone there you knew?’
‘Well... Joe, and the girl who pours out the char.’
‘No one you wouldn’t expect?’ I pressed.
‘No, of course not. Like I said, we got to the course and unloaded the horses, two of them, in the stables there, and went and got another cuppa and a wad in the canteen, and then I went round the bookies, like, and put ten bob on Bloggs in the first, and went up on the stands and watched it get stuffed... sodding animal didn’t try a yard... and then I went back to the stables and got Shantytown and put on his paddock clothing and led him out into the paddock...’ His voice was bored as he recited the everyday racing routine of his job.
‘Could anyone have given Shantytown anything to eat or drink in the stables, say a bucket of water just before the race?’ I asked.
‘Don’t be so ruddy stupid. Of course not. Who ever heard of giving a horse anything to eat or drink before a race? A mouthful of water, I dare say, a couple of hours beforehand, but a bucketful...’ The scorn in his voice suddenly changed to anger. ‘Here, you’re not suggesting I gave him a drink, are you? Oh no, mate, you’re not putting the blame on me for the balls you made of it.’