as a jockey Rafiq ought to become a pop star, he’s got such a beautiful voice. Wilkie really loves him singing to her and waggles her ears in time.’
Valent suppressed a yawn. ‘I must go.’
Gwenny thought better and jumped on to his lap, her tail fluffed up like a Christmas tree. Hearing a fox barking outside, Priceless leapt down and rushed sniffing and snorting to the door.
‘Has Seth given him up completely?’ said Valent in disapproval.
‘Well, he can’t take him on tour.’
‘He must eat you out of house and home. And Gwenny?’
‘Pocock’s sort of given her to me. I think,’ she added, seeing Valent look even more disapproving, ‘he rather fancies Joyce Painswick. He keeps nagging her to let him take the ivy off her cottage, says it’s pulling out her brickwork.’
‘Bonny’s pulling out my brickwork.’ Valent realized he’d spoken aloud. Christ, he must be pissed. Then, reluctantly, ‘I must go. Everything all right up at the yard?’
‘OK. Marius needs more winners. He’s still eaten up missing Olivia.’
‘Geese mate for life,’ said Valent. As he opened the door Priceless shot off into the night.
The rain had stopped, the mature conifers were wearing stars as tiaras, narcissi scented the air.
‘Good night, Etta.’ Valent took hold of both her arms. There was a bit of a mish-mash as he kissed her on the forehead and she tried to offer him both cheeks, so they laughed.
‘Chinking cheeks is a bit luvvie for me, I like tooching flesh.’ Valent put his lips to her fringe.
‘Thank you so much,’ said Etta. ‘It was really lovely.’
‘Could we do this again,’ asked Valent, ‘and have a home fixture next time?’
‘Yes please, and you will put in a good word for Rafiq, won’t you?’
100
Amber was overwhelmed with jealousy when she learnt Rafiq was going to ride Mrs Wilkinson on Friday at Rutminster. She bombarded him with advice, until he was both confused and panic-stricken.
He had also learnt from stable gossip that Harvey-Holden had regrouped his army. Bullydozer was in the same race and Harvey-Holden and Vakil had taken the poor horse into the indoor school, subjecting him to their private and particularly brutal form of schooling, and deprived him of water to make him more biddable. Killer, his jockey, having been beaten for a second time by Mrs Wilkinson, was in even less of a mood to take prisoners.
Seeing Bullydozer in his box before the race, Tommy had peered over the half-door and was horrified to see the cuts on his legs inflicted by Vakil’s pitchfork. Seeing Tommy, he ran trembling to the back of the box.
‘Poor old boy.’ When she surreptitiously offered him a Polo, he nearly took her hand off. He trusted no one.
As Rafiq walked apprehensively into the parade ring, his olive skin looked the muddy green of a real olive. He was so desperate not to let the yard and Tommy down. Since he’d been given the ride he had prayed so incessantly to win, he hoped Allah wouldn’t punish him for neglecting other things. He also felt guilty being blessed before the race by a ‘Christian infidel’, but ‘“My father’s house has many mansions,” ‘ Niall had reassured him.
The crowd, swollen by numerous fans of Mrs Wilkinson, had read of Amber’s broken wrist and were fascinated to see how this handsome Pakistani would fare in her place. Rafiq had competition. Feline little Johnnie Brutus was riding Shade’s Last Quango and Killer was on Bullydozer. Bullydozer, however, who’d wasted precious energy walking his box and sweating up going down to post, had run his race before it started.
Goggles once more hid Killer’s cruel, slanting, wolf-pale eyes, but the same evil smile flickered round his thin lips. Soon he was up to his old tricks. A discreet elbow in Rafiq’s ribs as they jumped the first ditch nearly unseated him. At the end of the first circuit, he crept up the inner, pretending to be whacking a wilting Bullydozer, but instead the whip in his grey-gloved hand kept striking Mrs Wilkinson in her good eye, which totally disorientated her. And so it went on.
Hidden by the vast Bullydozer, Mrs Wilkinson was so small, even the television cameras couldn’t pick up what was going on. But as Killer cut across them for the third time, Rafiq lost it.
‘Fuck off, you bloody Paddy,’ he screamed.
‘Fuck off, you bloody Paki,’ screamed back Killer.
As he dropped back to rest Bullydozer, Johnnie Brutus came upsides on Wilkie’s left, blocking her view of the rails, bumping her, but Rafiq held her