In the Frame - By Dick Francis Page 0,50

we took off again for the hour’s flight to Melbourne. Halfway there, Jik himself came back to make use of the facilities.

He too paused briefly beside me on the way back.

‘Here are the car keys,’ he said. ‘Sit in it, and wait for us. You can’t go into the Hilton like that, and you’re not fit enough to change on your own.’

‘Of course I am.’

‘Don’t argue. I’ll lose any tail, and come back. You wait.’

He went without looking back. I picked up the keys and put them in my jeans pocket, and thought grateful thoughts to pass the time.

I dawdled a long way behind Jik and Sarah at disembarkation. My gear attracted more scandalised attention in this solemn financial city, but I didn’t care in the least. Nothing like fatigue and anxiety for killing off embarrassment.

Jik and Sarah, with only hand-baggage, walked without ado past the suitcase-unloading areas and straight out towards the waiting queue of taxis. The whole airport was bustling with Cup eve arrivals, but only one person, that I could see, was bustling exclusively after my fast-departing friends.

I smiled briefly. Young and eel-like, he slithered through the throng, pushing a young woman with a baby out of the way to grab the next taxi behind Jik’s. They’d sent him, I supposed, because he knew Jik by sight. He’d flung turps in his eyes at the Arts Centre.

Not too bad, I thought. The boy wasn’t over-intelligent, and Jik should have little trouble in losing him. I wandered around for a bit looking gormless, but as there was no one else who seemed the remotest threat, I eventually eased out to the car park.

The night was chilly after Alice Springs. I unlocked the car, climbed into the back, took off the successful hat, and settled to wait for Jik’s return.

They were gone nearly two hours, during which time I grew stiffer and ever more uncomfortable and started swearing.

‘Sorry,’ Sarah said breathlessly, pulling open the car door and tumbling into the front seat.

‘We had the devil’s own job losing the little bugger,’ Jik said, getting in beside me in the back. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Cold, hungry, and cross.’

‘That’s all right, then,’ he said cheerfully. ‘He stuck like a bloody little leech. That boy from the Arts Centre.’

‘Yes, I saw him.’

‘We hopped into the Victoria Royal, meaning to go straight out again by the side door and grab another cab, and there he was following us in through the front. So we peeled off for a drink in the bar and he hovered around in the lobby looking at the bookstall.’

‘We thought it would be better not to let him know we’d spotted him, if we could,’ Sarah said. ‘So we did a re-think, went outside, called another taxi, and set off to The Naughty Ninety, which is about the only noisy big dine, dance and cabaret place in Melbourne.’

‘It was absolutely packed.’ Jik said. ‘It cost me ten dollars to get a table. Marvellous for us, though. All dark corners and psychedelic coloured lights. We ordered and paid for some drinks, and read the menu, and then got up and danced.’

‘He was still there, when we saw him last, standing in the queue for tables just inside the entrance door. We got out through an emergency exit down a passage past some cloakrooms. We’d dumped our bags there when we arrived, and simply collected them again on the way out.’

‘I don’t think he’ll know we ducked him on purpose,’ Jik said. ‘It’s a proper scrum there tonight.’

‘Great.’

With Jik’s efficient help I exchanged Tourist, Alice Style, for Racing Man, Melbourne Cup. He drove us all back to the Hilton, parked in its car park, and we walked into the front hall as if we’d never been away.

No one took any notice of us. The place was alive with pre-race excitement. People in evening dress flooding downstairs from the ballroom to stand in loud-talking groups before dispersing home. People returning from eating out, and calling for one more nightcap. Everyone discussing the chances of the next day’s race.

Jik collected our room keys from the long desk.

‘No messages,’ he said. ‘And they don’t seem to have missed us.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘Todd,’ Sarah said. ‘Jik and I are going to have some food sent up. You’ll come as well?’

I nodded. We went up in the lift and along to their room, and ate a subdued supper out of collective tiredness.

“Night,’ I said eventually, getting up to go. ‘And thanks for everything.’

‘Thank us tomorrow,’ Sarah said.

The night