Bolt - By Dick Francis Page 0,67

sitting on the scales, she actually understood what had been going on in a race, which many owners didn’t.

Maynard troubled me, though, because it had looked very much as if he were trying to force me into jostling him, and I was going to have to be extremely careful pretty well for ever to avoid physical contact. The film I’d made of him would destroy his credibility where it mattered, but it was an ultimate defence, not to be lightly used, as it shielded Bobby and Holly from any destructive consequences of Maynard’s obsession, not just myself. If I used it, Maynard’s life would be in tatters, but his full fury would be unleashed. He would have nothing more to lose, and we would all be in real peril.

Meanwhile, as always, there were more races to ride. I went twice more from start to finish without caution and, the gods being kind, also without hitting the turf. Maynard continued glaring and I continued being carefully civil, and somehow or other persevered unscathed to tea time.

I changed into street clothes and went up to the princess’s box, and found Lord Vaughnley there with her and Litsi and Danielle: no sign of Beatrice.

‘My dear chap,’ Lord Vaughnley said, his large bland face full of kindness, ‘I came to congratulate Princess Casilia. Well done, well done, my dear fellow, a nice tactical race.’

‘Thank you,’ I said mildly.

‘And yesterday, too. That was splendid, absolutely first class.’

‘I’ didn’t have any runners yesterday,’ the princess said, smiling.

‘No, no, not a winner. Saving that fellow’s life, don’t you know, at Bradbury races.’

‘What fellow?’ the princess asked.

‘Some damn fool who went where he shouldn’t and fell off a balcony. Didn’t Kit tell you? No,’ he considered, ‘I suppose he wouldn’t. Anyway, everyone has been talking about it all afternoon and it was in most of the papers.’

‘I didn’t see the papers this morning,’ the princess said.

Lord Vaughnley obligingly gave her a full second-hand account of the proceedings which was accurate in essence. Litsi and Danielle looked studiously out of the windows and I wished I could eat the cream cakes, and eventually Lord Vaughnley ran out of superlatives.

‘By the way,’ he said to me, picking up a large brown envelope which lay on the tea table, ‘this is for you. All we could find. Hope it will be of some help.’ He held the envelope Towards me.

‘Thank you very much,’ I said taking it. ‘

‘Right,’ said Lord Vaughnley, beaming. ‘Thank you so much, dear Princess Casilia, for my tea. And again, congratuations.’ He went away in clouds of benevolence, leaving the princess wide-eyed.

‘You were at Bradbury,’ the princess said to Danielle and Litsi. ‘Did you see all this?’

‘No,’ Danielle said, ‘we didn’t. We read about it this morning in the Sporting Life.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ ‘Kit didn’t want a fuss.’

The princess looked at me. I said, shrugging, ‘That’s true, I didn’t. And I’d be awfully grateful, Princess, if you didn’t tell Mrs Bunt.’

She had no chance to ask me why not, as Beatrice reappeared as if on cue, coming into the box with a smug expression which visibly deepened when she saw I was there. Watching me all the time she ate a cream cake with gusto, as if positively enjoying my hunger. I could more easily put up with that, I thought wryly, than with most other tribulations of that day.

The princess told Beatrice it was time to leave, the last race being long over, and shepherded her off to the Rolls. There was no chance of Litsi going with them, even if he wanted to, as Danielle clung firmly to his arm all the way to the car park. She didn’t want to be alone with me after her explanations in the night, and I saw, as I suppose I’d known all day, that she couldn’t have come at all without his support. Racing was again at Sandown the next day, and I began to think it would be less of a strain for everybody if she stayed away.

When we reached the car, Litsi sat in the front at Danielle’s insistence, with herself in the rear, and before starting the car I opened the large brown envelope Lord Vaughnley had brought.

Inside there was a small clipping from a newspaper, a larger piece from a colour magazine, a black and white eight by ten photograph, and a compliments slip from Lord Vaughnley, asking me to return the pieces to the Towncrier, which now only had photocopies.

‘What