the tapes went up, he turned, sending the man with a whip leaping for his life, and bolted in the other direction. Hauled round after a furlong by a screaming Rafiq, he changed his mind and belted after the high-class field. Horrified to find himself among them, he overtook the lot to beat Lusty by a length, to scenes of hysterical laughter and adulation.
Like Mrs Wilkinson, he was a character and whenever he ran, the public flocked to the track to watch the bad boy of racing. Rafiq adored him more than ever, wandering round the yard and the fields without a lead rein, Furious following him like a big dog.
‘Amazed Hello! got a word out of him,’ snarled Josh. ‘All he ever talks to or about is Furious.’
Rafiq now prayed to Allah that Marius would put him up on Furious for the Gold Cup in March. He had stopped praying for Amber to return his love. Even if his career continued to soar, like Buraq the flying horse who carried the Prophet to paradise, their backgrounds were too different. Even if he came ‘singing from Palestine’, Amber, his lady love, would never welcome him home.
Hearing him singing his mournful songs round the yard, however, Dora had opened negotiations with a record producer. ‘Rafiq’s so beautiful, he’s got such a lovely voice, he could easily become a pop star.
‘Honestly, Rafiq,’ she sighed later, ‘with me around you don’t need an agent.’
When Etta met Hengist Brett-Taylor she thought he was one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever encountered and totally understood Painswick’s crush. He was so amused and amusing and couldn’t stop laughing about his old secretary’s new love.
‘I cannot believe the old duck’s got a drake at last, or rather a Pocock. I must tell Sally,’ and he rushed off to ring his wife.
Etta also loved Hengist because he rolled up with a beautiful white greyhound called Elaine, with whom Priceless fell madly in love, and even more because Hengist insisted on having Rafiq, his gaol-mate, in his drama-documentary. Dora’s boyfriend Paris was playing Sir Francis Framlingham. Rafiq, in a blond wig, plumed hat pulled down over his nose, was acting as Paris’s standin, cantering across Larkshire on Mrs Wilkinson to recreate Sir Francis going to war on Beau Regard.
Hengist was also using Rafiq in the documentary to put for- ward the Muslim point of view. There was a touching moment when they were filming in the church, as a bristlingly defensive Rafiq had gazed down at the stone effigy of Sir Francis for a few moments before murmuring, ‘He too went a long way for his religion.’
Rafiq had mellowed. As a Muslim he had learnt that human life was sacred, but, steeped in the ideology of the terrorist training camp, he had come to believe that his own life should be sacrificed for the cause in the holy war to wipe out non-believers. But gradually he had found himself growing to love nonbelievers. Not just Hengist, who had protected him in prison, or Marius, who had bought back Furious and given him a chance as a jockey most lads could only dream of, or Etta and Painswick, who’d mothered him so kindly, or Valent, who’d tipped him so generously and fought his corner. There was also his dear friend Tommy, who worked so tirelessly on his horses, advised him so tactfully and had contributed so much to his dramatic rise to fame.
Rafiq was keeping his nose clean. He was extra careful because he was sure the police were watching him and tapping his telephone calls, hoping this would lead them to his cousin Ibrahim, who he believed was still hiding out in the lawless badlands on the borders of Pakistan.
To up their incomes, Josh and the other lads all passed on tips to punters. ‘It’s a lovely day in Willowwood’ was code for a horse likely to win, while ‘It’s raining in Willowwood’ indicated one that hadn’t a chance. Rafiq had stopped even giving free tips to the friends he had made in gaol.
Tommy, meanwhile, who looked after Wilkie, Romeo, a rapidly improving Bullydozer, and Furious when Rafiq was away, was well ahead in the Throstledown points system that allocated a groom three points for a win and one for a place.
Tresa and Michelle (even though she now worked for Harvey-Holden) were wild with envy. They were a thousand times prettier than Tommy, but they didn’t get the fan mail, weren’t pestered for autographs or have their pictures