High stakes - By Dick Francis Page 0,52

weeds.’

‘We’ll shift it tomorrow.’

‘There must be a ton of it.’ He frowned gloomily.

‘I didn’t mean spadeful by spadeful,’ I said. ‘Not you and I. We’ll hire a grab.’

Hiring things took the rest of the day. Extraordinary what one could hire if one tried. The grab proved to be one of the easiest on a long list.

At about the time merchant bankers could reasonably be expected to be reaching for their hats, I telephoned to Charlie.

‘Are you going straight home?’ I asked.

‘Not necessarily.’

‘Care for a drink?’

‘On my way,’ he said.

When he arrived, Owen took his Rover to park it and Charlie stood staring at the muck heap, which looked no more beautiful under the street lights and was moreover beginning to ooze round the edges.

‘Someone doesn’t love me,’ I said with a grin. ‘Come on in and wipe your feet rather thoroughly on the mat.’

‘What a stink.’

‘Lavatory humour,’ I agreed.

He left his shoes alongside mine on the tray of newspaper Owen had prudently positioned near the front door and followed me upstairs in his socks.

‘Who?’ he said, shaping up to a large scotch.

‘A shit is what Jody’s wife Felicity called me after Sandown.’

‘Do you think she did it?’

‘Heaven knows. She’s a capable girl.’

‘Didn’t anyone see the… er… delivery?’

‘Owen asked the neighbours. No one saw a thing. No one ever does, in London. All he discovered was that the muck wasn’t there at seven yesterday evening when the man from two doors along let his labrador make use of my fuchsia tubs.’

He drank his whisky and asked what I’d done in Miami. I couldn’t stop the smile coming. ‘Besides that,’ he said.

‘I bought a horse.’

‘You’re a glutton for punishment.’

‘An understudy,’ I said, ‘for Energise.’

‘Tell all to your Uncle Charlie.’

I told, if not all, most.

‘The trouble is though, that although we must be ready for Saturday at Stratford, he might choose Nottingham on Monday or Lingfield on Wednesday,’ I said.

‘Or none of them.’

‘And it might freeze.’

‘How soon would we know?’ Charlie asked.

‘He’ll have to declare the horse to run four days before the race, but he then has three days to change his mind and take him out again. We wouldn’t know for sure until the runners are published in the evening papers the day before. And even then we need the nod from Bert Huggerneck.’

He chuckled. ‘Bert doesn’t like the indoor life. He’s itching to get back on the racecourse.’

‘I hope he’ll stick to the shop.’

‘My dear fellow!’ Charlie lit a cigar and waved the match. ‘Bert’s a great scrapper by nature and if you could cut him in on the real action he’d be a lot happier. He’s taken a strong dislike to Ganser Mays, and he says that for a capitalist you didn’t seem half bad. He knows there’s something afoot and he said if there’s a chance of anyone punching Ganser Mays on the long bleeding nose he would like it to be him.’

I smiled at the verbatim reporting. ‘All right. If he really feels like that, I do indeed have a job for him.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Directing the traffic.’

He puffed at the cigar. ‘Do you know what your plan reminds me of?’ he said. ‘Your own Rola toys. There you are, turning the single handle, and all the little pieces will rotate on their spindles and go through their allotted acts’.

‘You’re no toy,’ I said.

‘Of course I am. But at least I know it. The real trick will be programming the ones who don’t.’

‘Do you think it will all work?’

He regarded me seriously. ‘Given ordinary luck, I don’t see why not.’

‘And you don’t have moral misgivings?’

His sudden huge smile warmed like a fire. ‘Didn’t you know that merchant bankers are pirates under the skin?’

Charlie took Wednesday off and we spent the whole day prospecting the terrain. We drove from London to New-bury, from Newbury to Stratford on Avon, from Stratford to Nottingham, and from Nottingham back to Newbury. By that time the bars were open, and we repaired to the Chequers for revivers.

‘There’s only the one perfect place,’ Charlie said, ‘and it will do for both Stratford and Nottingham.’

I nodded. ‘By the fruit stall.’

‘Settle on that, then?’

‘Yes.’

‘And if he isn’t down to run at either of those courses we spend Sunday surveying the road to Lingfield?’

‘Right.’

He smiled vividly. ‘I haven’t felt so alive since my stint in the army. However this turns out, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’

His enthusiasm was infectious and we drove back to London in good spirits.

Things had noticeably improved in the garden. The