Knock Down - By Dick Francis Page 0,24

The tiny candle flame was too small to disturb the horse, who felt no fear or pain, and he looked a lot less like a throwback to a carthorse when I’d finished. Next I clipped out the mane between his ears and over his withers, then snipped off the worst of the whiskers round his muzzle, and with a large pair of scissors finally straightened the bottom of his tail.

‘’Struth,’ Clem said. ‘He looks a different horse.’

I shook my head. Nothing but care, good food and brushing could bring a shine to that coat. He looked like a poor boy after a haircut, tidy but still poor.

Before we loaded him up again I wound neat dark blue bandages round his forelegs and buckled on the clean rug I’d brought from my own yard. Eliza Doolittle off to the ball, I thought, but it was the best I could do.

6

Kerry Sanders looked from Nicol to Constantine in carefully camouflaged anxiety while they inspected her gift. One of Brevett’s own men was showing him off, trotting him now and then or making him stand with his legs arranged as for a photograph.

River God could move, I’d give him that. A good strong walk and a straight collected trot. Nothing to be ashamed of in that department.

Constantine was saying comfortingly, ‘My dear girl, I realise you got him at very short notice. I’m sure he’ll make up into a very good performer one of these days. Look at those legs… the bone is there.

‘I hope he’ll win for Nicol,’ she said.

‘Of course he will. He’s a very lucky boy to be given such a generous present.’

The lucky boy himself drew me aside and said abrasively ‘Couldn’t you have found me something better?’

I had ridden against him often enough in races, at the end of my career and the beginning of his, and he knew me as well and as little as any jockey in the changing room.

‘She gave me two days… and its form isn’t bad.’

‘Would you have ridden it?’

‘Definitely. And if it turns out no good, I’ll sell it for you later.’

He sucked his teeth.

‘It did quite well in a bad stable,’ I said. ‘It should improve a mile in yours.’

‘D’you think so?’

‘Give it a try.’

He smiled sourly. ‘And don’t look a gift horse in the teeth?’

‘She wanted to please you,’ I said.

‘Huh. Buy me, more like.’

‘Happy birthday,’ I said.

He turned to watch Kerry Sanders talking to his father, the neat small feminine figure overshadowed by the large protecting paternal male. As before the Sanders wrappings were as uncluttered as gold bricks and the slanting autumn sunlight drew fire from the diamond knuckledusters.

‘At least she’s not after his money,’ Nicol said. ‘I had her checked out. She’s way ahead.’

For an also-ran, Constantine was not doing so badly. Clem’s horsebox stood on a clear quarter acre of front drive with Clem himself fidgeting around for a signal that he could set off home. There were buildings along two sides of the mini parade ground, a modern garage and stable block at one end set at right angles to a much older, slightly austere stone house. Not quite a mansion, but more than enough for two.

The outside surface was being cleaned, with nearly one third showing warm cream instead of forbidding grey. One could see that it would look a good deal more welcoming when it was finished, but the effect meanwhile was undignified piebald. One should not, I reflected, ever make the mistake of thinking one would catch its master at such public disadvantage.

Nicol strode over to the man leading River God and the man nodded and took the horse away to the stables.

Kerry Sanders looked a fraction disappointed until Nicol rejoined her and said, ‘Thought I’d just try it. Can’t wait, you see.’

River God came back with saddle and bridle, and Nicol swung easily onto his back. He trotted him a little round the gravel and then took him through a gate into a railed field alongside and quickened the pace to a working canter. Constantine Brevett watched with heavy good humour, Kerry Sanders with hope, Clem with impatience and I with relief. Whatever I thought of his financial methods, Ronnie North had delivered the goods.

Nicol came back, handed the reins to the stableman, and strode over and kissed Kerry Sanders with enthusiasm on the cheek.

‘He’s great,’ he said. His eyes shone. ‘Absolutely great.’

Her face filled with joy enough to melt the hardest case. Nicol took note of it, and as she