about to mount, is Amber Lloyd-Foxe, a very old friend of Cosmo’s and god-daughter of my very good friend Rupert Campbell-Black. She’s riding a horse called Furious.’
Furious at first refused to go into the parade ring, then refused to leave it, spooking at everything, lunging indiscriminately with hooves and teeth at humans and horses. Marius was reduced to legging Amber up on the path down to the course.
‘There are good horses in this race,’ he shouted as he hung on to Furious’s reins. ‘Hold him up as long as possible, don’t let him tire himself, keep out of trouble and make a late run. He’s very forward going,’ he added as he jumped free.
‘I.e., an absolute sod with no brakes,’ snarled Amber.
Rafiq, ignoring her and gazing stonily into space, had noticed Amber’s reddened eyes. Maybe it wasn’t going so well with Rogue. As he led her down to the start, he addressed her for the first time in days: ‘Eeegnore Marius. I know Furious. He hate other horses, let him make it and he will run like a wind to get away from them. He like daylight. You will not see another horse. Good luck,’ he added, giving Furious’s ear a last pull.
The start was by the B1224. Amber wished she was hurtling away in one of the cars as Furious, tail lashing, ears glued to his head, took a lunge first at Umbridge, then at Fur Calf, then at Ilkley Hall to a chorus of fuck offs.
And they were off, hurtling through the downpour, except Furious, who reared up and nearly right over, before taking off and carting her. After four furlongs, she gave up hauling on his mouth and let him go. Trees and houses flashed by as, bucketing over each fence, he landed running.
‘Got a plane to catch?’ yelled Dare Catswood as she overtook him and Umbridge.
Having walked the course, she was able to steer Furious away from boggy ground. The rain lashed her face, harder than the jockeys’ whips. As other young horses in the race exhausted themselves trying to keep up with her, others were forced by the headlong pace into making errors.
Dame Hermione was giving tongue in the Owners and Trainers: ‘Go on, Fur Calf, go on, Fur Calf.’
‘Did Dame Hermione really shout fuck off ?’ whispered Debbie to the Major in horror.
Poor Fur Calf fell at four out, Umbridge at the next.
Looking round to left and right, Amber saw the rain-shiny hats of the rest of the jockeys bobbing like seals in the distance. The race was at Furious’s mercy as the winning post flashed by.
‘You glorious horse,’ gasped Amber, brandishing her whip in the air. Furious punished her by taking about three weeks to pull up.
Rogue, who had no opinion of Furious, had from the motor-way seen the horses circling at the start and noticed Amber on board. She’ll be riding me later, he thought complacently. For the moment, she wouldn’t have a hope of holding up Furious. Contemptuously parking his blue Ferrari at an angle, he loped towards the paddock.
But no one ran faster than Rafiq, as he raced up to welcome Furious, hugging him, patting him over and over again, kissing his sly chestnut face, crying, ‘Oh, thank you, thank you,’ then praising Allah and patting him again.
‘Don’t pat him so loudly,’ mocked Amber, ‘or I won’t be able to hear myself boast.’ Then she smiled. ‘Oh Rafiq, this is an absolutely fantastic horse, he could win a Derby, he could go round again. He’s hardly blowing, couldn’t blow out his own birthday cake. You were right, I didn’t see another horse.’
Looking down at Rafiq’s dark, arrogant, sulky face totally transformed by happiness, split by a huge white grin, Amber ignored Alice Plunkett’s microphone.
‘Welcome me home,’ she murmured and bending down, kissed Rafiq long and lingeringly on the mouth, only drawing away as Marius came striding up.
‘Amber,’ he roared, ‘why in hell didn’t you hold him up? He’s beaten so many good horses by so many lengths, he’ll be top weight in his next race.’
‘You bloody well try riding him. Don’t be so ungrateful,’ howled Rafiq, turning on an amazed Marius, at which point Furious, in support, bit Marius sharply on the arm, to distract him from firing Rafiq.
As quickly as it had started, the deluge stopped and the sun came out to admire this wonderful horse. The Willowwood syndicate, who’d backed him for a joke, were ecstatic.
‘I’d like to lead Furious in,’ cried Bonny and Corinna, reaching for their