THE ST JAMES’S Palace Stakes hundred-year-old silver trophy was indeed filled with champagne and handed around, each of the twelve syndicate members, including me, taking it in turns to raise it up like the winning captain of the FA cup, and then drinking from it, as everyone else cheered.
Nick and Claire Spencer had broken out the reserve bubbly from the boot of their car, but there was no sign of the American trio.
“Where are your American friends?” I asked Nick casually after the trophy drinking had finished.
“They’re having afternoon tea with the American ambassador in one of the private boxes. He’s also from Kentucky and is a good friend of theirs. Seems he’s regularly bought horses from their farm. But they’ll be along later. Herb told me the ambassador has to leave before the last to get back for some sort of diplomatic function this evening.”
“How did you meet Herb and Harriet?” I asked.
“I acted for them when they bought an apartment in a lovely new block in Knightsbridge, overlooking Hyde Park. About six years ago now. We became friends, and Claire and I have since been out to their place a couple of times.”
“Do you think it’s worth me talking to them about joining a syndicate?”
Victrix Racing already had several overseas members, including two that lived in the United States.
“You can if you like, but I doubt that they will. They have a whole string of racehorses in the U.S. And they breed most of them themselves.”
“But you can never have too many racehorses,” I said with a laugh.
The phone in my trouser pocket beeped and vibrated once.
“Excuse me,” I said to Nick, taking the phone out. “I need to take this.”
I walked a short distance away so that no one else could see the screen.
There was just one text notification showing.
Do not defy me. You were warned what would happen.
I turned around quickly to look back at the syndicate members, checking to see if any of them had their phones out.
They hadn’t, and the thoughts from earlier returned: Why would any of them have wanted Potassium to lose? What advantage would it give them?
But if it was one of them, they would have surely ensured that they put their phone away as soon as they had pushed “Send.”
I put my own phone back in my pocket and walked quickly back to Nick.
“Sorry,” I said. “I have to leave now. Something’s come up at home.”
I packed the trophy back into its carrying box, made my excuses to the rest of the syndicate members, and hurried out of Car Park 1.
I almost ran down the High Street to my Jaguar, placed the trophy box in the boot, along with my coat and top hat, and jumped in.
I could feel the panic rising in my throat, and I almost turned out onto the road right into the path of another car.
I slammed on the brakes just in time.
Calm down, I told myself. It won’t help to kill yourself in a car crash.
Although maybe it would.
I didn’t go home. Instead, I pulled up opposite the Raj Tandoori.
I went and banged on the front door of the flat above, but there was no answer. So I went back to the car and waited and waited and waited.
Georgina had called me on my phone’s hands-free system as I’d been passing Reading.
“Dad and I watched the race together,” she said. “It was so exciting. And we watched your interview afterwards. He is so pleased for you.”
“Thanks,” I said. “How is he doing today?”
“Much the same. Mum’s a bit better now she’s been able to have a couple of nights’ proper sleep after I moved her into the spare room. I’ve gone back into the bed I slept in before we were married. It feels very strange. And Mum keeps asking me what she will do if he dies, or rather when he dies.”
Not come to live with us, I hoped.
But Harrogate was a very long way away from south Oxfordshire, and after the early death of her sister, Georgina was their only child left.
A couple of years ago, we had investigated some sheltered-living bungalows in our village and had even put her parents’ name down for one, but there was a long waiting list—waiting for the current residents to die off.
Getting old was no fun, but it was probably better than the alternative.
“Are you going to Ascot again tomorrow?” Georgina asked.
“Every day,” I replied. “We have more runners, one on Thursday and another on Saturday, but I don’t really expect those two to win. I’m running them more because the syndicates are desperate for Royal Ascot tickets.”
“I can’t think of anything worse.”
“But you used to love to go.”
“No, I didn’t. I only went because you wanted me to. It was always too damned hot—or raining—and I hated wearing all those bloody hats, and as for the shoes! They always hurt like hell by mid-morning.”
I was surprised by her forcefulness.
“Well, you should be thankful you’re in Harrogate then,” I said. “It was hot and crowded at Ascot today, and according to the forecast, it will be even hotter tomorrow and again on Thursday, for the Gold Cup.”
“You’re welcome to it.”
Her attitude distressed me.
I wondered if Georgina was also sensing that our marriage was beginning to crumble around our ears. Did she mind? Or might it be a relief to her too?
What was it she really wanted from her life? Was my presence a necessity or a luxury? Or both?
Or neither?
And what did I want from my life?
Could we go back to how it had been, or should we go forward into uncharted waters, either together or separately?
All I knew was that something had to change. I didn’t want to go on as we had been recently, not for the next twenty-five years or so.
Nothing was moving outside the takeaway—nothing that I was interested in anyway. A steady stream of customers came and then went again, clutching their white plastic bags of food. I reckoned the last thing anyone would want on such a hot June evening would be a vindaloo or a madras, but perhaps they were just having a korma.
By nine o’clock, there was still no sign of Amanda or Darren.
I climbed out of the car to stretch my legs, walking up and down the road a few times, before going once more to the flat front door. No one had come in or gone out since I’d arrived, but I banged on the door again, nevertheless. Again, no one answered my knock, nor did anyone open any of the windows above.
I went back to the car once more and climbed in.
Where were they?
Perhaps I should have gone straight to Tesco to see if Amanda was working. Maybe she’d only just gone in when I arrived and was working the night shift at the twenty-four-hour store. That would mean she wouldn’t be back until the morning.
What would I do then? Stay here all night?
Should I call the police?
But what would I say to them?
“My daughter’s life has been threatened.”
“Who by?” they would ask. “And how do you know?”
Then what would I say? Would I tell them about the phone calls from Squeaky Voice and show them his texts?
“And why didn’t you tell us about this immediately you received the first threatening phone call? Or on the days you received the other calls or the texts? And how did you make Dream Filler lose? What did you do with the weights you removed from his weight cloth?
“You are now under arrest for race fixing.”
I shook my head to dispel the thoughts.
There was clearly no way I could ask the police for help.
Amanda and Darren arrived back at a quarter to eleven, by which time I had convinced myself they weren’t coming. Even the Raj Tandoori was getting ready to close for the night, and I was about to go home.
I saw them walking towards me along the pavement on the opposite side of the road to where I was parked. I didn’t immediately get out of the car, in case they saw me, turned around, and briskly walked away.
I let them get to within about ten to fifteen yards from their front door before I climbed out of the car.
“Amanda,” I called across the road. “Can I have a word with you please?”
“I thought I told you to piss off,” Darren said aggressively. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
I ignored him.
“Amanda, it’s about your grandfather.”
I saw her hesitate, and then she walked over the road towards me. Darren started to follow, but she told him to wait.
“What about Grandpa?” she asked gravely. “Is he all right?”
“Mum has gone up to Harrogate to be with him, and with Granny. Grandpa wasn’t at all well on Sunday, but he’s perked up a bit since then. But we have no way of contacting you if anything does happen, because you won’t give us your new telephone number. So I’ve been waiting here all evening for you to come back to tell you. Please call Mum. And will you give us both your number?”
She took her phone out of her pocket but hesitated again.
“Darren says I’m better off without either of you.”
“Then Darren is a fool,” I said. “Why don’t you come with me now, and we’ll call Mum on the way home. I’m sure she’ll still be up.”
She half turned and looked back at Darren, who was waiting by the front door, and there was almost a look of fear on her face, rather than adoration.
“No, Dad. I’m staying here.”
She turned to go.
“Look,” I said, grabbing her by the arm to stop her, “I’m worried about you. Someone took you away from our party, and they could do it again. You will be much safer at home, where I can look after you.”
She pulled herself free from my grasp.
“I’m quite safe here. Darren will look after me.”
Short of picking her up and bodily throwing her into my car, there was nothing more I could do.
“Be very careful,” I said urgently. “Please don’t go out on your own, especially at night.”
“Dad, stop it,” she said. “I’m quite old enough to look after myself. Go home.”
“Not until you have rung your mother.”
“I’ll ring her in the morning.”
“Then please call my phone right now, so I have your number. If Grandpa dies, I will need to call you.”
She hesitated once more and glanced back over her shoulder.
“Is it on silent?” she asked, almost in a whisper.
I took it out of my trouser pocket and made it so.
“It is now.”
She touched her screen a few times, and my phone began to vibrate. I didn’t answer, and she stopped the call.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, adding the number to the “Amanda” contact in my phone.
“But, please, don’t call me unless you absolutely have to.” It was almost a desperate plea. “Now go home.”
I waited while she walked back across the road, and the pair of them went in through the door. As a parting gesture, Darren stuck two fingers up at me just before he closed it.
Charming, I thought.
I was almost as concerned about Amanda’s safety at his hands as I was at those of Squeaky Voice.