my thanks to her. I had told Toby on the phone that I had a broken wrist, but not how I came by it.
‘Where are the children?’ I asked, looking around.
‘At school, of course,’ said Sally. ‘Philippa, our youngest, is now six.’
‘Really,’ I said. It must have been a long time since I was there. My niece had been a toddler on my last visit.
Toby jumped into the awkward pause. ‘Well, I expect you two would like to get your heads down for a few hours.’ I had explained to him from the airport that we had both hardly slept on our flights.
‘Thank you,’ said Caroline. ‘I think we would.’
On my way upstairs I looked briefly into the room that had been mine for the first eighteen years of my life. It didn’t really appear much different. My elder nephew was the current occupant, as was clear from the JACK’S ROOM plaque screwed firmly to the door. His bed was in the same position as mine had always been and his chest of drawers in the corner was the very same one that had held my clothes for so long. It made me yearn for my childhood, for the happy years spent growing up in this house, and for the assurance of youth that nothing nasty can ever happen. That Utopia had lasted only until the brick lorry had broken the spell.
Caroline and I went to bed, and straight to sleep, in the guest bedroom.
*
I slept sporadically for a couple of hours or so before the discomfort of the cast woke me up for good. I dressed quietly, left Caroline sleeping peacefully, and went downstairs in my stockinged feet. Toby was in his office off the main hallway. I stood silently in the doorway watching him as he studied the Racing Calendar, as my father had done every single day of the year without fail. The Racing Calendar was the industry bible for trainers, allowing them to look at the terms and conditions of every upcoming race so that they could determine which of their horses to enter, and where. In my father’s day, it had been a weekly broadsheet printed on yellow paper that he would spread out wide on his desk and study for hours on end. Now Toby sat looking through a smaller stapled booklet with blue type on white paper, yet it performed much the same function as the old newspaper version. But the computer age was taking over and, no doubt, the booklet version would soon be consigned to history as well.
‘Hello,’ said Toby, looking up. ‘Sleep well?’
‘Not really,’ I said. I lifted up my arm with the cast. ‘Too bloody uncomfortable.’
‘How did you do it?’ he asked, looking back down at the calendar.
‘I didn’t move out of the way quick enough,’ I said.
‘Of what?’ he asked, not looking up.
‘A polo mallet,’ I said.
He glanced up at me. ‘I never realized you played polo.’
‘I don’t,’ I said flatly.
‘Then why…’ He tailed off and leaned back in his chair. ‘Are you telling me that it was deliberate? Someone broke your arm on purpose?’ He looked suitably horrified.
‘I don’t think they would have stopped at my arm if I hadn’t run away.’
‘But that’s terrible,’ he said. ‘Have you told the police?’
‘Not yet.’
‘But why on earth not?’ he asked. It was a good question, I thought, why didn’t I just leave everything to the police? Because I was very afraid that if I did, I would end up dead before they found out who it was who was trying to kill me. But I couldn’t exactly say that to Toby right out of the blue, now could I?
‘I want to explain everything to you because I need your help,’ I said. ‘I need your knowledge of horses. I know I grew up in this house and some of it rubbed off on me but you have forgotten more about horses than I ever knew, and I believe I need that knowledge now. That’s why I’ve come here.’
‘Explain away,’ he said, putting his hands behind his neck and testing the tilt mechanism on his office chair to the limit.
‘Not yet. I want Caroline there too. And, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve asked a lawyer to come down here later this afternoon to listen to it as well.’
‘A lawyer?’ he said slowly. ‘This is serious then?’
‘Very,’ I said. ‘I’ve never been more serious in my life.’ And Toby knew that in my life, especially since the death of