to win the turnout,’ said Joey. ‘She hasn’t come in her coat.’
‘Funny fing to come in,’ Cindy shrieked with laughter, ‘I always take mine off.’
‘Hush,’ said Debbie in horror.
Marius had just had a word with Bertie and Ruby Barraclough and Awesome Wells, before legging him up on to Count Romeo, who at least had won the turnout. Coming back to the Willowwood syndicate, wincing at the sight of Cindy, Marius saw Amber had joined them, her long blonde plait falling down her green silk back.
Next moment Lester had strutted up and, putting a caressing hand on her arm, was telling her how to ride Mrs Wilkinson.
‘Don’t let her make it and exhaust herself. This is a longer trip. You’ve got the Cheltenham ’ill, so don’t start your run too early.’
For a second, Marius was speechless, then, fired up by memories of bullying Shade Murchieson, he strode up.
‘Am I training this horse or are you?’ he said icily. ‘Please stop muddling my jockey and take your hands off her.’
‘Marius,’ hissed Alan in horror, but before Bolton could explode, a voice said, ‘Hear, hear,’ and Rogue sauntered up, giving Amber’s plait a tug. ‘How are you, beauty?’ then nodding at the rest of the syndicate, ‘Seth. Bonny, you’re looking good. Etta, where’s Etta, under canvas?’ He tipped back her hat and peered under it and everyone laughed in relief, as the bell went for the jockeys to mount.
‘Good luck, darling.’ He tugged Amber’s plait again and sauntered off to ride Birthday Boy, the favourite.
‘Phwoar, isn’t he drop-dead,’ sighed Cindy, which pleased Lester even less.
Amber didn’t take in a word of Marius’s instructions and even forgot to be charming to the syndicate.
I am not over him, she thought in horror.
Despite having to be secretive in order not to hurt Tommy, and Rafiq being in a terrible state about Bolton buying Furious, Amber and Rafiq had had wonderful sex since that rapturous first night after Wetherby. But all that was as nothing compared with her sudden explosion of longing for Rogue.
Thank God Rafiq had stayed behind at the yard. As Marius legged her up, Amber went straight over, landing on her bottom on the other side. As she remounted in embarrassment, she could see Rogue, his long legs hanging down out of his stirrups, laughing his head off as he undid Birthday Boy’s four nearest plaits, giving himself something to cling on to.
If only he’d cling on to her, she thought, but as he set off for the start and she saw him flashing smiles at all the pretty women in the crowd, she pulled herself together. She’d got to beat the bastard.
Equally put out was Chisolm, when Mrs Wilkinson was set free to follow Rogue. Dora had to rush off and buy her an ice cream.
High up in the Owners and Trainers, Etta could at least see the race under the brim of her dreadful hat and that Mrs Wilkinson, enjoying the wide undulating track, had gone straight to the front and stayed there.
Amber’s ignoring my instructions, thought Bolton, his heart darkening against Marius, who, below them on the grass, stood apart from the crowd, hands clenched on his binoculars.
‘Come on, Mrs Wilkinson,’ bellowed and screamed Willowwood, as she started her run up the hill.
‘Come on, Mrs Wilkinson,’ shrieked Cindy. ‘Get your fucking arse into gear.’
‘Here we go,’ shouted Rogue, as he and Birthday Boy stormed past.
No you don’t, thought Mrs Wilkinson, grinding her teeth.
Birthday Boy was a young horse. Leading up the hill, he wanted company and started looking around. Rogue picked up his whip and was so busy laying into the horse, who was also carrying 12 lb more than Mrs Wilkinson, that she managed to hurtle up the inner and once again win by a head.
Cindy went into complete hysterics of joy. Chisolm was almost as excited and towed a laughing Tommy down the walkway to meet her dear friend, and a captivated crowd went crazy.
Amber didn’t dare look at Rogue and could hardly stammer out a coherent word when the overjoyed syndicate surged forward to congratulate her.
Bonny and Cindy, each determined to hog the limelight, were not pleased to be upstaged by a goat. Chisolm, having eaten the horn of Cindy’s yellow unicorn bag, butted away anyone who tried to stand between her and Mrs Wilkinson.
The rest of the syndicate, aware that Marius had been dreadfully rude, insisted that Lester and Cindy, as the newest members, went up to collect Mrs Wilkinson’s cup. Even on the podium Lester and