Even Money - By Dick Francis & Felix Francis Page 0,88
her stubborn, ill-tempered and self-righteous father had resulted in her early return to the hospital.
“You know it’s not a good idea,” I said to her gently. “It always ends in a row of one sort or another, and rows are not good for you.”
“It’s different this time,” she said.
That is what she always said. Of course, I lived in the hope that it would be different this time, but, inside, I had to assume it wouldn’t be. I would be unable to endure the future disappointment if I placed too great an expectation on her present progress only for my optimism to be dashed.
I could hardly tell her not to see her own parents, and she would probably ignore me if I did. But I felt quite strongly about it. However, I didn’t want her going secretly behind my back, knowingly against my wishes. And, most of all, I didn’t want to argue with her.
What was I to say?
“What do you think Sophie should do,Alice?” I said, sidestepping the problem and placing it on another’s shoulders.
“I know Mum is very keen to see her,” she said.
“Then why didn’t she visit her in the hospital?” I asked. But I knew the answer.
“The hospital is so upsetting for them both,” said Alice.
It hadn’t been a barrel of laughs for the rest of us, but we had still gone. The truth was, I thought, that neither of Sophie’s parents could bear to admit that their precious elder daughter was mentally ill, and, provided they didn’t actually see her in an institution, they could go on fooling themselves that she was fine and well.
However, they didn’t fool me or, indeed, Alice, who had been painstaking and diligent in visiting her sister almost every other day. Even her two brothers had visited Sophie at least twice during her recent five-month stay. But of her parents, there had been not a sign.
“You must do what you think is best,” I said to Sophie. “But I would prefer it if they didn’t come here. So go and see them at their place, if you like. I won’t come, but, if you do go, I think it would be a good idea for you to go with Alice.”
“To dilute them, you mean,” Sophie said.
“Yes,” I said. “And to try and prevent a row.”
“Fine by me,” said Alice. “If Dad starts being a pain, I’ll kick him.”
She and Sophie laughed, their heads close together in sisterly conspiracy.
She’d better take steel-toe-capped boots, I thought.
18
The first race at Towcester’s late-June evening meetingstarted at six p.m. I have always liked to be set up at least an hour before the first in order to capture the early punters, and also to give time for us to sort out any problems we might have with our equipment, in particular flat batteries and poor wireless Internet signal. Consequently, I drove in through the racetrack-entrance archway a little before five and parked in the shade of a large oak tree in the center of the parking lot.
I have always enjoyed going to Towcester Races, and not only because most of their meetings have no admission charge for the public and hence none for the bookies. I also loved the parkland course set on the rolling countryside of the Easton Neston estate, and their recent investments in new facilities that made it an attractive venue for both bookies and punters alike.
As the racetrack was approximately midway between our homes in Kenilworth and High Wycombe, Luca and I had agreed to meet there, traveling in our separate cars, so I unloaded everything myself and pulled it on our trolley into the racetrack enclosure.
The betting ring at Towcester was unusual insofar that it was in the space between the grandstands rather than in front of them, as on many courses. This was due to the stands having been built very close to the track, which I suppose was sensible as it gave a much better view of the racing for the spectators.
Luca was already waiting for me as I pulled the trolley to our pitch.
“Where’s Betsy?” I asked.
“She’s not coming,” he said. “In fact, I don’t think she will be coming again, ever.”
“Oh?”
“She packed up yesterday and moved out of my flat,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” I said, not meaning it.
“I’m not,” he replied.“Not really.” He paused.“I suppose I’ll miss her.” He paused again. “I’ll definitely miss her in bed. Wow, she was so good.” He smiled at me.
“Too much information, Luca,” I said, laughing. “Far too much information.”