Looking up at the unrelenting black clouds, Trixie was distracted from thoughts of Seth by worry about her grandmother.
‘People have been advised to move their valuables and furniture upstairs. Granny doesn’t have an upstairs.’
‘She’ll be fine,’ said Debbie briskly. ‘She can check the state of flooding on the internet.’
‘Granny doesn’t have the internet, and she’s in a car anyway.’
‘Well, as long as she keeps her mobile charged.’
‘She often forgets to switch it on and she sometimes can’t get a signal down at the bungalow.’
‘I thought she was coming today, where’s she gone?’ asked Woody.
‘Bloody Martin and Romy,’ exploded Trixie, ‘have rushed off to London to some stupid WOO launch, leaving poor Granny to drive Poppy and Drummond to Weybridge so Romy and Martin can pick them up on the way to their weekend in Kent. Bloody selfish. Granny was so looking forward to cheering on Doggie.’
Doggie was 250–1 now. There was an expression of hopeful expectancy on his broad white face as he splashed round the parade ring after the seven other runners. It had started to rain in earnest. Tommy, her elbow on Doggie’s shoulder, her hand stroking his neck, had put on two rugs, one pulled up round his floppy ears.
‘Worth putting on twenty quid at that price,’ said Woody, the not very proud co-owner.
‘Worth twenty-five after your boyfriend’s blessed him,’ said Joey, the other owner.
‘Shurrup,’ hissed Woody. ‘He’s such a sweet horse, I can’t bear to sell him.’
His face softened as Niall waded into the paddock, put a hand on Rafiq’s thigh and on Doggie’s shoulder and murmured a few words.
‘Can he put a call in to Allah?’ asked Joey. ‘Oh hell, it’s worth a monkey.’
Valent landed in his red and grey helicopter just before the horses went down to post.
‘Fancy him turning up here when he’s so busy,’ said Phoebe to Debbie. ‘Toby and I thought he’d be a nice rich godfather for Bump.’
Valent was wearing his dark blue overcoat with the collar turned up and a dark blue Searston Rovers baseball cap.
‘Where’s your nan?’ he asked Trixie, thinking how pale and tucked up the child looked. The big smile was wiped off his face when Trixie said Etta had gone to Weybridge.
‘Fucking hell, in this weather? Half the roads are closed, flooding everywhere.’
‘I know.’
It was raining even harder, coloured umbrellas going up like psychedelic mushrooms. The syndicate waited hopefully. Plenty of time for Valent to buy them a quick drink to warm them up before the off, but he was straight on to his mobile, checking flood lines and traffic lines, his face growing grimmer. In the distance he was sure he could see a huge black cloud over Willowwood.
‘I’m so glad I didn’t have a bet,’ said Phoebe as Doggie, who was inspecting a flock of paddling seagulls, got badly left behind at the start. Not liking mud kicked in his face, he fell further and further behind as he ambled along, admiring stretches of water on both sides.
‘He’s going to be lapped by the front-runners,’ muttered an anguished Woody. The crowd rocked with laughter.
‘Come on, Doggie,’ yelled Trixie. ‘Dogs are supposed to be good at paddling.’
Doggie, however, was so far behind, he missed being caught up in a seven-horse pile-up at four out. Picking his way carefully over prostrate animals and their swearing riders, he was the only runner to complete the course, to deafening cheers. Rafiq, who hadn’t bothered to pick up his whip, was grinning from ear to ear. The £5,500 for the winner meant £2,200 each for Woody and Joey, and £750 for Marius and £750 for Rafiq to send home to his beleaguered family.
Tommy couldn’t stop laughing as she led Doggie into the winners enclosure and gave him a long drink of water which he didn’t deserve, having hardly broken sweat. Doggie looked both delighted and astounded to get so much patting.
‘He’ll get hooked on success and win again,’ said Trixie, who’d put on a fiver and won £1,250.
‘It’s because you blessed him, Rev,’ grinned Joey, who’d won twelve times that amount. ‘He’ll probably turn up at Evensong on Sunday to fank you. Let’s go and get legless.’
‘And Valent can buy us lots of lovely fizz,’ said Phoebe. ‘So nice, now Bump’s born, I can drink again.’
‘Worcester Racecourse provides winners with lovely hospitality anyway,’ snapped Alan.
Through the pounding rain, a jubilant Woody smiled at Niall, who next week was off to be a locum in Suffolk. Today was their last chance to be together and Woody had planned for