down to post. Again, she was puzzled he wasn’t pulling at all, even when Killer and Voltaire Scott thundered past, deliberately trying to unsettle him and Rafiq.
Rafiq hardly noticed. An hour ago he’d received another telephone call, ordering him to pull Bullydozer, but this time he was determined to defy it.
As they raced past the stands on the first circuit, all the runners were bunched up together, so the handicapper had got things right. But Bullydozer, who always led, was last and clearly not right. Rafiq was so terrified that Marius and the stewards would think he was pulling the horse once more, deliberately not trying, he gave him three hefty smacks and dug his heels in. Bullydozer, who normally would have leapt forward, didn’t react. He was stumbling and lurching now, clearly in pain.
‘All right, Bully,’ called out Rafiq, determined to pull him up after the next fence, but it was too late. Bullydozer hit the top, struggled to avoid a chestnut mare fallen on the far side, turned over and crashed to the ground on his head.
Television moves on, following the leaders and the living. The fence that had caused the tragedy was hidden from the crowd. Next moment Amber saw Marius belting down the track. Rafiq, who’d been thrown free, staggered to his feet, and over to a helplessly writhing Bully.
‘Don’t die, don’t die,’ he sobbed, collapsing on to Bully’s huge shoulder.
But before the screens had closed round them both the chestnut mare and Bully had gone still.
Meanwhile an ecstatic crowd were yelling, ‘Go on, go on, go on,’ like Mrs Doyle in Father Ted, as Killer eased Voltaire Scott first past the post.
Amber was so distraught about Bullydozer it was a few seconds before she realized Shade had his hand round her waist, his fat fingers massaging her breast.
‘Come and have a glass of bubbly to celebrate,’ he purred.
‘Celebrate what?’ exploded Amber.
‘A great win and another chance to teach Throstledown not to pinch other people’s horses.’
‘No!’ Amber would have screamed at him to eff off if the ‘It is, isn’t it?’ brigade hadn’t moved in again:
‘Amber Lloyd-Foxe! Do tell us about Mrs Wilkinson. We specially came to see her.’
Amber managed to be charming for a minute, then she stammered, ‘I’m so sorry, a friend’s horse has just been killed.’
Turning back to the course, she could see Rafiq walking back clutching his whip, saddle and Valent’s purple and ivy-green quartered hat. He was now standing: tall, slim and absolutely motionless, the brilliant sun casting his long black shadow across the deserted track as he watched the rerun of the race, including the hideous fall, on the big screen. He stayed so long, tears washing the mud from his face, that an official ran up saying he was so sorry about the horse but Rafiq had better move on, as the runners would soon be coming down for the next race. When Rafiq gazed at him in bewilderment, the official took his arm and led him back to the weighing room.
Marius loved Ireland and the Irish, who put him at his ease. Trust him to have given up drink in February, quipping it was the shortest month, only to be confronted with such a tragedy.
Bullydozer had been such a sweet horse, so grateful for kindness, so full of promise and Valent’s pride and joy. His body would now be on the way to the nearest hunt kennels, but there was something especially poignant about a horse dying abroad. And there was still the empty box to be faced when he got home, and Valent in China to be rung.
Not an unkind man, Marius was just ham-fisted in his dealings with people. He had found Rafiq sobbing uncontrollably in Bully’s box but had been unable to comfort him. The horse had looked wrong from the off; tomorrow he’d study the video.
Marius was also very fond of Billy Lloyd-Foxe, who had often helped him in his career. Painswick had confided that Billy had terminal cancer, so Marius wanted to comfort Amber. But he had been so burnt by Olivia, he was unprepared to risk a serious relationship. Michelle had been sex with no affection, but he was finding himself increasingly attracted to Amber and knew he was foul to her in an attempt to conceal it.
Now there was this ghastly preview to be got through, when everyone would be clamouring for information about his Gold Cup chances and what tactics he was planning to use. He was far too superstitious