Taunton Barr

by Brian Cain

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Grant Balderdash had written a somewhat contrasting article on his experience at Flax Burton, he was a commodities and stock market analyst and generally wrote for glossy magazines with the occasional column in The Sun. The Sun featured his column on page three, was the morning of a novice trial at Wincanton, Blake lent on the outside rail of the track on a gloomy autumn day, he occasionally chuckled as he read. Behind him Kalika assisted Lindy in preparing Flaxmead ready for the first race of the day, a novice chase. Blake occasionally laughed out loud as he read.

  TAUNTON BLAHH

  I was unfortunately invited to attend a press conference at Flax Burton in Somerset conducted by Winston Blake well know washing machine and laundry proprietor. Why I have no idea my perception of a horse is more on the lines of the next run of pet food at the Pal factory, no doubt Mr Blake was looking for a balanced opinion of his outrageous claims as to the tumbling mess they call the Grand National. I was subjected to witness a young woman sitting on a big black horse, tally ho what and all that spiffing gaff. Well it certainly is a big horse with a little girl rider, and the horse bearing the name of Taunton Barr and this is all supposed to mean something. Well let me tell you something Mr Blake, why don't you take a long walk off the end of a short pier, I found the interest value zero and haemorrhoid inflaming indeed if you have them. The horse will run at Wincanton in November in a race sponsored by Blake to the tune of one hundred thousand pounds, any takers, well of course, Wincanton will have entries coming out of their ears with nice shinny clean cash direct from Blake's Laundromat now operating right around the globe. Why doesn't he do something industrial like run a race car, or back a rising boxer, no not Blake. He plays with little girls on ponies, what a sad end for a man who once was the pride of the banking industry. You won't find me at Wincanton or any other place horses run round in circles, hey Mr Blake, we are too busy making things work, why don't you get off your high horse and do something. Shall write another column on this subject when next I wish to completely waste my time. Yours absolutely sincerely the fantastic Grant Balderdash.

  Blake closed the paper still giggling then suddenly looked very serious, he mumbled to himself. 'What a brilliant idea.' Taunton had been brought to the track in a small plain float, they parked out of the way along side a modest float from the Cotswolds. He put the paper under his arm and walked a few paces back to the float, he took Lindy to one side walking out into the open roadway, he pointed to a horse being saddled next door. 'Saracen, ten year old equestrian horse, his first trial.'

  Lindy looked over with interest. 'That horse did a clean in the last Olympic trials, failed to continue on although it won.'

  'Indeed, they didn't have the money.'

  'What are they doing here.'

  'Cotswold farmers, they came to me last year, were having trouble with the banks attempting to wind their farm up, they were duped into unworthy trust schemes.'

  'That didn't answer the question Winston you're avoiding the point.'

  'I put them onto someone who knows the law as well as the law makers, and here they are, like minded and now cashed up to do something.'

  'And where did all this cash come from.'

  'I didn't push or ask them, Roger requested I finance their path.'

  Lindy shrugged her shoulders. 'Why you telling me, I have a lot to think about at present.'

  'When you look under your arm that's the horse you'll see.'

  'Your financing the opposition.'

  'This horse is not here due to political support or interference, it's here because it can run and jump.'

  'Oh howdy dudey,' Lindy folded her arms. 'Anything else I need to know.'

  'That horse was trained by Roger, Cecelia it's rider uses no crop, it responds to vocal commands.'

  'I'll trounce it.' Lindy stormed off to Taunton, Winston watched Lindy brief Kalika in a rage. Kalika handed the reins to Lindy and stormed toward Winston, he waited, she looked across at the neighbours.

  She put her hand's on her hips and stood astride. 'Saracen and Cecilia Ridgehaven

  are you insane, Lindy tells me you brought them here.'

  'Yes, in a way.'

  'Every time I looked under my arm I saw that horse.'

  'I've seen this horse run and jump well aware it could hunt Flaxmead down.'

  'You'd do that to us.'

  Winston changed his tone. 'It never made the Olympics, was stopped by politics and money. You think this is going to be a walk in the park, somewhere out there we will find a horse that may run him down. We need take on the best all the time, make sure that doesn't happen, you did that but you never took them all on and this is one of them. So don't threaten or dictate to me until you are parading around the wining circle at Aintree, and even then I won't listen.'

  Kalika turned away kicking the dusty ground with her boot. 'Jesus Christ!' She looked up straight into the face of Cecilia Ridgehaven being led past on Saracen. She suddenly wore an automatic beaming smile. 'Oh Cecelia how wonderful to see you again.'

  'Thank you must keep going in the first race.'

  'Best of luck.'

  'Thanks,' they faded into the distance.

  Kalika turned back to Winston, she continued to kick the ground her hair wafting all over the place as she shook her body. 'Bloody hell! Right that's it, that horse will get the flogging of it's life.' She stormed off, Lindy mounted and she led Taunton away. Winston watched with his hand's on his head with a half smile.

  He mumbled to himself. 'After that little episode if anything passes them I'm staying in a motel tonight. With all this determination around wait till Flaxy gets the drift. I have to watch this but I don't think I can stomach it.' He walked to the track rail.

  Bevan Porterhouse was a form guide writer, he was sitting at an outside table along side the track in front of the jockey club reading The Sun article was being read out loud and all present were rolling around laughing. He was very much tuned to racing colours having been in the game for twenty years, he was paying little attention to anything as the tabloids had gripped everyone's focus. A friend sitting opposite spoke, he had just finished reading the Hayford article in a magazine. 'Seriously, Hayford thinks Blake is dead serious.' Porterhouse had a flash of colour as the horses for the first trial headed along the back straight toward the start. One horse caught his eye, it thundered past everything causing some to become uneasy, his eyes opened wide as he computed the colours.

  He picked up a pair of binoculars he had on the table then climbed on the table and focused on the horse. 'Bless my cotton socks, that's Lindy Cumberland on Flaxmead.' He climbed down and looked for a race fixture on the first race. 'Anyone got a fixture on the first.'

  His friend was sitting at the table franticly going through the days fixture, he found the first. 'Novice trial.' He looked down the fixtures. 'Fifteen runners, holy shit number seven Taunton Barr, jockey Lindy Cumberland, owner Winston Blake, and that's not all. Number four Saracen, owner Cecilia Ridgehaven, jockey Cecilia Ridgehaven.'

  Porterhouse continued to scan the horses. 'What colour is the horse Saracen, anyone know.'

  'It's a bay stallion, comes from the Cotswolds, Ridgehaven's are farmers there.'

  'I got it, riders wearing Blake's colours.'

  Someone else at the table spoke up. 'He's a genius you know, invites some idiot to a press conference to keep us all occupied talking about a race here in November and rolls up right under our noses without so much of a how do you do.' Porterhouse grabbed his phone and franticly punched at the keyboard.'

  'To late for that ol boy, that thing just got loose here at a hundred to one.'

  The gathered raced to the rail and waited for the start. Taunton Barr was causing havoc on the go line, used to stalls he kept rearing up and putting on a show, Lindy took him wide away from the pack all favouring the inner rail side and pulled him round in a circle to the right every time her reared up keeping him inside the tape lines. Lindy was in a similar mood to Ta
unton and their anger with each other grew, the starter released them and she shot him toward the first fence with a 'Go!'

  The gathered listened to the race caller, Winston walked away from the fence to the front of the float, he listened with his back to the track, arms folded with his right hand fiddling with his chin. 'And that's a pretty tidy start with number seven Taunton Ba...' The caller stopped and spoke to his aid alongside. 'Taunton Barr, is that the horse that was in the news of recent.'

  His assistant studied the fixture. 'Owner Winston Blake jockey Lindy Cumberland.'

  'Couldn't someone have informed me of that.'

  'All been busy talking about the tabloids, unexpected, for goodness sake its a novice steeplechase.'

  The caller went back to his binoculars and microphone. 'Sorry about that just checking facts, Taunton Barr leading by a clear ten lengths covering the first three hundred and over the first fence doesn't even touch it, followed two lengths behind by Saracen with another clean jump number seven both horses pulling away from the rest of the field bunched and pacing well. Oh and Beachers Mill and Landsdow tangle and fall at the first, both up straight away jockeys look okay as well. But it's still Taunton Barr followed by Saracen they cover the hundred and thirty to fence two and... both clean the jump. Covering the one twenty to the water holding a cracking pace and number ten Focusrite pulls away from the pack after the second but loosing ground to the two front runners, a two horse race by a country mile here. They clean the water don't ever break stride, round the first bend and Taunton Barr begins to put more light between them gaining a length and a half on the bend. That's Cecelia Ridgehaven on Saracen and Lindy Cumberland on Taunton Barr and their experience shining through here today on two mature horses that have never raced a chase before. Over the ditch at the forth and into the bend two and again Taunton Barr gains ground on Saracen tucked in behind Taunton Barr's ears from the front you could imagine no rider on that steed. Sucking every little bit of advantage that can be had from her mount Lindy Cumberland the pocket rocket from the land downunder has not finished writing her obituaries as yet because she is alive and well and showing her wares here at Wincanton today. A cracking pace down the back straight, over the fifth with ease and into the two hundred to the sixth, Saracen now tailing by six lengths, neither of them looking like they are on a Sunday afternoon jaunt I can assure you. Over seven all fences cleared not so much as a brush with fate, over eight and into bend three again Taunton Barr gains ground on the corner now holding a lead of eight lengths on Saracen, into the short straight to turn four and over fence eight clean as a whistle form both of them, into the final straight and Lindy Cumberland has a quick look under her arm, she gets down to it and Taunton Barr continues to pull away from the only other horse in the race Saracen, Focusrite has pulled away from the field that has broken up to a series of individual runs with two further falls along the back straight but the third runner is now a good thirty lengths from the leading pair. And with two fences to go Cumberland has lost her left stirrup as she lands! she grabs the main of Taunton Barr to steady herself, the horse senses a problem and eases up. She finds the stirrup but Saracen is upon them, she gets down to it and approaching the second last it Saracen by a nose, now Taunton Barr, Saracen, Taunton Barr stride for stride. Over the last together neck and neck and Taunton Barr gains a neck on landing, and in the last hundred and ten Taunton Barr streaks away, three lengths, four, five and Taunton Barr wins by six lengths to Saracen and coming down the middle of the last straight Focusrite well out of the pace but with a third to her name. And just handed the times for this, the fastest two mile chase ever run here by four point two seconds that horse with another record to it's credit and of course could only be the Blake owned Flaxmead. Taunton Barr a clear winner in this two mile trial with Saracen also breaking the standing record here for two miles over hurdles by a considerable margin and stamping their intentions of running in the national and damn good luck to them. And Lindy Cumberland and Cecilia Ridgehaven off their rides and both hugging the neck of their mounts, neither of them took a crop to their horses, I do feel a credit to the recently deceased Roger Palmer is warranted here, could be his legacy see's the national overrun by his talent.'

  Blake was still on his haunches with his back to the track, he hunched down and held his head when Lindy lost her stirrup. He looked drained, drawn, he shook his head and looked at the sky and mumbled. 'Well I suppose that's why your champion's you do this far better than I.'

  Winston was leaning on his vehicle as the float began to move out, they had loaded up Taunton immediately and headed away just before the few that could run that far arrived at the stable float park area. Porterhouse made it just before Winston was going to leave caught him watching the float drive away. Porterhouse lent with his palms on his knees unable to talk until he got his breath. Winston looked down at him wide eyed. 'Bevan how are you, haven't seen you for quite some time.'

  Bevan spoke sparsely between breaths. 'Since you backed air bnb you are the last person I wanted to see.'

  'Borrowing too much money for ventures that are being watered down by market interruption is a risky way to do business Bevan.'

  'Why did you set those people up, they just had an idea, without you that's all it was and I would still have my hotel chain.'

  'At twelve percent on a loan that financed ninety eight percent of the venture, your talking to the wrong people Bevan. Air bnb was and is a great idea, every little room on the planet available at one location on line, use it myself.'

  'Multi storey hotels all over the place empty.'

  'At two hundred quid a night, not surprising, hasn't been a wage rise that gets anywhere near inflation at consumer level for years. Lot of people with withering cash supply, was a success waiting to happen, just scathing at myself I never thought of it first.'

  Bevan recovered and stood up. 'Nice one Winston, you collar the tabloids about running here in November and roll up in complete stealth.'

  'We are running here in November, just that today no one really needed to know, just due process, we need five runs you know the rules.'

  'He got loose at a hundred to one, how much did you make.'

  'You assume everybody carries on like you Bevan.'

  'I've had to turn my phone off, the abuse started part way through the race.'

  'Your supposed to post on form man, had you done your job you would be praised up.'

  'So many people hate your guts Blake you've really done it now.'

  'I don't keep a ledger perhaps you can email me the list.'

  Porterhouse looked away with a sneer. 'Wait till Ashby finds out what your up to.'

  'Been having trouble contacting him, your dealing with the wrong people, Ashby feel on his sword ol man, just happened to happen all at the same time, just as we brought Taunton Barr down here. Looks like the expected chain of information broke down and their was no contingency plan, you better fix that if you'll pardon the expression.'

  'You bastard, and Saracen, wearing your colours, if you had another horse here you would have.....good god.'

  'Yes, had a trifecta of records.'

  'They wont let you get away with this.'

  Winston walked around to the door of his vehicle. 'I've told you before, horses that run fast and in this case jump as well win races, all the rest is chess game. Checkmate.'

  'Where next.'

  'You write form, start doing your job, that's if anyone will ever listen to you again, excuse me.' Winston climbed in his vehicle and left in a cloud of dust.

  Stan and Maude Miller had lived in their terraced house in Summer Street London for the sixty five years they had been married, Stan was born in one of the upper bedrooms during the second world war. They had gathered at the Rose and Crown near Southwark for their entire time together as it was where they first meet. Stan arrived home in rapture, he called to Maude as he came through the door, she shuffled out from the living room into the modest hallway as Stan put his herrin
gbone cap on the hat stand inside the front door. 'Stan settle down what is it like.'

  'The horse.'

  'Wot horse.'

  'The one in the paper.'

  'Oh the one with the little girl, wot about it.'

  'It ran today at Wincanton.'

  'No, that's later I'm sure.'

  'No, no listen.'

  'All right give over.'

  'I was watching the screen.'

  'Stan I've told you about that.'

  'No no no, listen, don't say anything till I've finished.'

  'Oh I don't know about that Stan.'

  Stan gently pushed her toward the living room. 'Go sit down, your gonna need to be sittin down.'

  Maude put her hand up to her mouth and sounded concerned as she shuffled into the living room and sat down on the tattered lounge. 'Oh Stan you haven't done something silly, oh dear, oh no, back to your old ways.'

  Stan sat down beside her and took her hand. 'Now, I remembered the name, and just happen to see it flash up on the screen, running at Wincanton at a novice trial, no one takes much notice of em like, no one knows the form so hard to pick a winner bit of a lottery like.'

  'Oh no Stan.'

  'I asked you to listen pet. Now, geezer next to me had a paper, we had a quick gander at the fixture and blow me down jockey listed as Lindy Cumberland.'

  'Oh a, that's that...'

  'Shut up.'

  'Oh Stan you've never spoken to me like that.'

  'It was another hour to the race, I went to the bank on the bus and got back five minutes before cut off.'

  'Oh Stan no, you went to the bank, how much.'

  'A thousand quid.'

  She fell back on the lounge looking at the ceiling. 'That's all we have Stan.'

  'Not any more love, I sort of had this gut feeling, it was im, hundred to one love.'

  'Hundred to one, what does that mean.'

  'Means we won a hundred thousand pounds love, he ran em into the ground, broke the course record for two miles. It's all in the bank, except for four quid bought Bob the barman a drink, he needed it like, thought I was mad.'

  Maude felt faint, she looked around in a daze. 'Oh Stan I can't take this, what we going to do.'

  'Well be going to Aintree in April for sure. And I might buy a motor.'

  'You don't have a licence.'

  Stan looked down at the floor. 'Oh yeah, I'll get you a cup of tea love, fact I need a cup myself like.'