High stakes - By Dick Francis Page 0,56
long strong lower jaws, and copious iron grey hair in businesslike hairnets.
They introduced themselves as Miss Johnston and Mrs Fairchild-Smith. They were glad to welcome Miss Ward. They said they hoped her stay would be comfortable. They never had many guests at this time of year. Miss Ward’s horse had arrived safely the day before and they were looking after him.
‘Yourselves?’ I asked doubtfully.
‘Certainly, ourselves.’ Miss Johnston’s tone dared me to imply they were incapable. ‘We always cut back on staff at this time of year.’
They took us out to the stables, which like everything else were suffering from advancing years and moreover appeared to be empty. Among a ramshackle collection of wooden structures whose doors any self-respecting toddler could have kicked down, stood three or four brick-built boxes in a sturdy row; in one of these we found Black Fire.
He stood on fresh straw. There was clean water in his bucket and good-looking hay in his net, and he had his head down to the manger, munching busily at oats and bran. All too clear to see where any profits of the business disappeared: into the loving care of the customers.
‘He looks fine,’ I said, and to myself, with relief, confirmed that he really was indeed the double of Energise, and that in the warm distant Miami night I hadn’t been mistaken.
Allie cleared her throat. ‘Er… Miss Johnston, Mrs Fairchild-Smith… Tomorrow morning I may be taking Black Fire over to some friends, to ride with them. Would that be okay?’
‘Of course,’ they said together.
‘Leaving at eight o’clock?’
‘We’ll see he’s ready for you, my dear,’ said Miss Johnston.
‘I’ll let you know for sure when I’ve called my friends. If I don’t go tomorrow, it may be Monday, or Wednesday.’
‘Whenever you say, my dear.’ Miss Johnston paused delicately. ‘could you give us any idea how long you’ll be staying?’
Allie said without hesitation. ‘I guess a week’s board would be fair, both for Black Fire and me, don’t you think? We may not be here for all of seven days, but obviously at this time of year you won’t want to be bothered with shorter reservations.’
The sisters looked discreetly pleased and when Allie produced cash for the bulk of the bill in advance, a faint flush appeared on their thin cheeks and narrow noses.
‘Aren’t they the weirdest?’ Allie said as we drove out of the gates. ‘And how do you shift these damned gears?’
She sat this time at the wheel of the Land-Rover I’d hired from Ghiswick, learning her way round its unusual levers.
‘That one with the red knob engages four-wheeled drive, and the yellow one is for four ultra-low gears, which you shouldn’t need as we’re not aiming to cross ploughed fields or drag tree stumps out of the ground.’
‘I wouldn’t rule them out when you’re around.’
She drove with growing ease, and before long we returned to hitch on the two-horse trailer. She had never driven with a trailer before and reversing, as always, brought the worst problems. After a fair amount of swearing on all sides and the best part of an hour’s trundling around Hampshire she said she guessed she would reach the fruit stall if it killed her. When we returned to Hantsford Manor after refuelling she parked with the Land-Rover’s nose already facing the road, so that at least she wouldn’t louse up the linkage, as she put it, before she’d even started.
‘You’ll find the trailer a good deal heavier with a horse in it,’ I said.
‘You don’t say.’
Without encountering the sisters we returned to Black Fire, and I produced from an inner pocket a hair-cutting gadget in the form of a razor blade incorporated into a comb.
‘What are you going to do with that?’ Allie said.
‘If the two old girls materialise, keep them chatting,’ I said. ‘I’m just helping the understudy to look like the star.’
I went into the box and as calmly as possible approached Black Fire. He wore a head collar, but was not tied up, and the first thing I did was attach him to the tethering chain. I ran my hand down his neck and patted him a few times and said a few soothing nonsenses. He didn’t seem to object to my presence, so rather gingerly I laid the edge of the hair-cutting comb against his black coat.
I had been told often that nervous people made horses nervous also. I wondered if Black Fire could feel my fumbling inexperience. I thought that after all this I would really have to spend