mistake. Had to find a way of doing it that was peaceful and simple, for all our sakes.
I watched the Melbourne Cup from ground level, which meant in effect that I didn’t see much of it because of the other thousands doing the same. On the other hand, I was closer to the horses before and after, watching them walk, listening to comments, mostly unflattering, from knowledgeable elbowers striving for a view.
The Melbourne Cup runners were older and more rugged than stars back home. Some were eight or nine. All raced far more often, once a week not being unusual. The favourite for that day’s race had won on the course three days earlier.
They were racing for a purse of a million Australian dollars, of which sixty-five per cent went to the winner, besides a handsome gold cup. Thwarted this year, Malcolm, I imagined, would be back next year. He’d met in Paris and California several of the owners now standing in the parade ring and I could guess the envy he was feeling. No one was as passionate as a new convert.
When the race was finally off, I couldn’t hear the commentary for the exhortations around me, but it didn’t much matter: the winner was owned by one of the international owners and afterwards I found Malcolm beside the winner’s enclosure looking broody and thinking expensive thoughts.
‘Next year,’ he said.
‘You’re addicted.’
He didn’t deny it. He and Ramsey slapped each other on the back, shook hands and promised like blood brothers to meet regularly on every major racecourse in the world. Ramsey, the bulky manufacturer of millions of baseball caps, had somewhere along the line realised what ‘metal’ really meant in Malcolm’s vocabulary and from cronies they had become comfortable friends, neither feeling at an advantage over the other.
They discussed staying on in Australia but Ramsey said the baseball caps needed guidance. Malcolm wavered about going to see some gold mines in Kalgoorlie but decided on a gold share broker in Melbourne instead. We spent Melbourne Cup night in a farewell dinner, and when Ramsey had departed in the morning and left us alone in the quiet breakfast room upstairs, Malcolm looked at me as if coming down to earth for the first time since we’d left England. With a touch of despondency, he asked for how long he was to be exiled for safety’s sake.
‘But you’ve enjoyed it,’ I said.
‘God, yes.’ The remembrance flashed in his eyes. ‘But it’s not real life. We have to go back. I know I’ve avoided talking about it, it’s all dreadful. 1 know you’ve been thinking about it all this time. I could see it in your face.’
I’ve come to know them all so much better,’ I said, ‘my brothers and my sisters. I didn’t care for them all that much, you know, before Moira died. We’ve always met of course from time to time, but I’d forgotten to a great extent what we had been like as children.’ I paused for a bit, but he didn’t comment. ‘Since the bomb went off at Quantum,’ I said, ‘a great deal of the past has come back. And I’ve seen, you know, how the present has grown out of that past. How my sisters-in-law and my brother-in-law have been affected by it. How people easily believe lies, old and new. How destructive it is to yearn for the unobtainable, to be unsatisfied by anything else. How obsessions don’t go away, they get worse.’
He was silent for a while, then said, ‘Bleak.’ Then he sighed and said, ‘How much do they need, then? How much should I give them? I don’t believe in it, but I see it’s necessary. Their obsessions have got worse as I’ve grown richer. If the money wasn’t there, they’d have sorted themselves out better. Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Yes, partly.’ It hadn’t been, entirely, but as it had produced a reaction I’d wanted but hadn’t expected, I kept quiet.
‘All right, then,’ he said. ‘I’ve had a bloody good holiday and I’m feeling generous, so draw up a list of who’s to get what.’
‘All equal,’ I said.
He began to protest, but sighed instead. ‘What about you, then?’
‘I don’t know. We’ll decide about that later.’
‘I thought you wanted half a million to set up as a trainer.’
‘I’ve changed my mind. For now, anyway. There’s something else I want to do first.’
‘What’s that?’
I hesitated. I’d barely admitted it to myself, had certainly told no one else.