The British police, seeking information about Ibrahim, hadn’t been any too gentle either.
Jimmy and Rafiq had made plans to keep in touch and find work in the same yard. Rafiq was therefore devastated to learn, shortly after his friend’s release and only a month before his own, that Jimmy had been knocked down and killed by a car. Rafiq therefore had twin secrets he was desperate to keep, the where-abouts of his cousin Ibrahim and the true story of what had befallen Mrs Wilkinson.
During his stint in gaol, Rafiq had gained a certificate in stable management, which enabled him to work in a racing yard. Hengist, who had written regularly to Rafiq, was determined to find him a job when he came out. There was also the problem of Furious, who, despite being castrated, was increasingly colty except when he was with Rafiq, and for safety’s sake ought either to be destroyed or to leave the prison at the same time.
Rupert Campbell-Black was not prepared to take on either Rafiq or Furious.
‘I don’t want him blowing me up. And he might not like Xav having a Muslim girlfriend. Give him to Harvey-Holden, nice if someone blew up that little weasel. He’s so far up Judy Tobias’s massive arse, I’m amazed he can see. Or try Marius, he’s broke and having a rough time. At least your Paki’ll be cheap and Marius is so short of horses he might take on Furious. He must be only four or five.’
So a month before Olivia walked out and Alan and Etta approached Marius with a view to his training Mrs Wilkinson, Rafiq had moved to Throstledown as a stable lad and Marius had bought Furious from the prison for almost nothing.
Marius found Rafiq a truculent, tricky little bugger, but watching him on the gallops, he noticed how the boy could coax the last ounce of speed out of a horse with his hands and heels. Furious too could both jump and gallop and had the makings of a really good horse, if his vicious temper could be sorted out. Having got him a sheep friend, Dilys, Marius realized he must set about finding Furious a rich owner. In the yard, a sign saying ‘Please don’t stroke me, I bite’ was hung outside his box.
The same could be hung outside Rafiq’s bedroom, reflected Tommy. Her father, a detective sergeant, had tipped her off that MI5 and the police were keeping Rafiq under surveillance and not to get too close to him.
Tommy couldn’t help it. She dreamed of Rafiq pulling her into his arms just as Furious wrapped himself round Dilys the sheep.
48
Later in September, Marius had a stroke of luck. A bedding billionaire called Bertie Barraclough, ennobled for his services to sleep and sexual enterprise, telephoned asking Marius to find him a horse he could give to his wife, appropriately named Ruby, for a ruby wedding present.
Bertie and Ruby, a devoted, very jolly couple, who looked as though they’d spent the forty years of their marriage romping on Bertie’s vast bouncy beds, had met Marius and Olivia at some horse awards ceremony in London. Although enchanted by Olivia, they had been shocked when she ran off with Shade Murchieson, who had crossed Bertie once too often in business. Feeling very sorry for Marius and not knowing anything about horses, Bertie turned to him for advice. Marius could have waited for the sales in October. Needing the money, however, he decided to offer them Furious, and asked them down for break-fast and to watch the last lot of the day, which was virtually the only lot because there were so few lads and horses left.
Another problem was the horse himself, who’d probably bite Ruby’s plump jewel-laden fingers if she tried to stroke him. Only with Rafiq was he remotely biddable. But smouldering Rafiq, who dreaded Furious being sold in case his new owner took him to another trainer, could not be relied on to show Furious off to best advantage.
Tommy, petrified Marius would sack Rafiq for scuppering any deal, offered to ride Furious herself. Marius agreed and put an outraged Rafiq up on Oh My Goodness. As the horses left the yard, fortunately just before the Barracloughs arrived, Furious carted Tommy then threw himself down on the track, hurling Tommy over his head into a hawthorn bush, to the noisy amusement of Michelle, Tresa and the rest of the lads. None of them, however, was keen to take Tommy’s place,