Deadfall

by Lyndon Stacey

  'You mean, you want one and that's a convenient excuse,' Linc teased. Crispin had showed him the cardboard box that was home to their tabby cat and her six young kittens when he'd first arrived.

  The meal was excellent, the conversation non-stop, and by midnight, when Linc reluctantly broke the party up by reminding the others that he had to be up early to ride Hobo at the one-day event, they decided they'd all attend the horse trials to cheer him on.

  With the possible exception of Crispin, who was neither pregnant nor driving nor due to ride the following day, wine had been drunk only in moderation, and Linc had no qualms about seeing Josie set off for home in the E-type. Crispin and Nikki thoughtfully waved goodbye from the doorway of the cottage, leaving Linc to walk her to her car.

  'Do you know . . .' Josie said, as they reached the gate . . . 'Nikki asked me how long I'd known you, and I realised it's only been six weeks. It feels like ages.'

  'I'm not quite sure how to take that,' he remarked, stopping and turning to face her.

  She laughed. 'No, it's just that so much has happened.'

  'You didn't tell her about the engagement?'

  'Of course not. We agreed, didn't we?'

  'Mmm. Did I ever tell you – you look beautiful in the moonlight?'

  'There is no moon,' Josie pointed out.

  'Oh, God! Where's your sense of romance, Jo Jo? What am I supposed to say, you little wretch? You look beautiful under a cloudy sky with spits of drizzle in the wind? Come here . . .' It was several minutes before the growl of the sports car's engine split the night air.

  Hobo looked fit and ready for anything when Linc joined him on the showground the next morning. Nina's groom had saddled him and was gently warming him up under his owner's watchful eye.

  'You'll soon be able to ride him again yourself,' Linc commented, noticing that her arm was no longer in plaster. He pulled on his new crash hat, wincing as it pressed on the remains of his bruises, and adjusted the strap under his chin.

  'Mmm. I've ridden him at home, but this is a bit different.'

  'Not that I'm anxious to lose the ride, especially with Noddy sidelined for the foreseeable, but I thought you must be itching to get back on.'

  'Mmm,' she said again, looking pensive. 'Actually, I'd be quite happy for you to go on riding him, if you'd like to. I think he goes much better for you. You give him confidence.'

  'Oh, I think that's just practice. Once you get into the swing of it again, you'll be all right.'

  Nina bit her lip and then took a deep breath. 'No. I've been thinking about it for quite a while, and I'd like you to ride him for me. If you want to, that is. To be honest, I'm not really brave enough. I prefer the behind the scenes stuff, getting him fit and schooling him, maybe the odd local hunter trial. But with something like this, I find watching you take him round is all the excitement I need!'

  'Well, I'd love to, of course. He's a super horse, but I want you to promise that if you ever change your mind, you won't hesitate to tell me – no matter what stage of his career we've reached.'

  'That wouldn't be very fair!' she protested.

  'Promise?' Linc was adamant.

  She nodded. 'Okay, I promise. But it won't happen.'

  Whether Linc's resulting high spirits lifted Hobo's performance or not it was impossible to tell, but the horse positively sparkled in his dressage test, and as they changed his tack for the showjumping it was with the knowledge that at this early stage he led the field by a comfortable margin.

  With a neat clear round in the showjumping behind him and the start of the cross-country delayed by a fault in the public address system, Linc was free to wander round the trade stands with his brother and the two girls, both of whom appeared to be in high spirits. Josie was, as usual, effortlessly elegant, in denim and cashmere topped off by a linen hat that stopped her long hair whipping about in the breeze. Nikki was equally chic, and side by side, one dark and one blonde, they turned quite a few heads.

  Crispin was experimenting with a new digital camera and was consequently taking pictures of anything vaguely photogenic – and quite a lot that wasn't, as far as Linc could see – and as a result, kept getting left behind. Linc and the girls browsed the stalls, collecting oddments that took their fancy and, in a charity tombola, Linc won a huge teddy bear that he presented to Josie with a flourish.

  Nikki leaned close and whispered something in Josie's ear. It made her laugh, and as they moved on, Linc thought contentedly that the girls' growing friendship boded well for the future.

  Crispin had crouched down, taking a picture of a small child who held the lead of a huge hairy dog, and Linc had paused to watch, leaving the girls to go on ahead, when a gust of wind lifted the brim of Josie's hat, snatching it from her head and tossing it on the rough grass between the two nearest stands. As she turned to retrieve it, three things happened almost simultaneously: the long-silent loudspeaker system whined and popped as it finally came to life, a rousing cheer went up from a group of youngsters outside the beer tent across the way and, just yards away from Josie's stooping form, the driver of an idling Land-Rover suddenly put it into reverse.

  Bending over to pick up the hat, Josie's hair had fallen forward like a curtain, obscuring her vision, and with a stab of panic Linc realised she was completely unaware of the danger.

  'Josie, look out!'

  Linc lunged forward as, all around, people appeared rooted to the spot. Time seemed to slow as Josie, hearing his shout, looked up at him instead of at the vehicle.

  He hit the back of the Land-Rover with both fists and one hip, in the same instant yelling at the driver to stop. The response was immediate. Even as he rebounded from the moving vehicle, staggering to remain upright, its driver stamped on the brakes, finally averting the tragedy.

  Suddenly it seemed as though the rest of the world came back to life. There was a collective gasp, somebody screamed and several people swore out loud. There was even, as Linc turned to find Josie, a smattering of applause.

  She was standing upright now, still clutching her hat and the soft toy, ashen-faced with shock as she stared at the vehicle that had almost knocked her down. Putting his hands on her shoulders, Linc gave her a gentle shake.

  'Josie! Look at me, sweetheart! It's all right now,' he said with quiet urgency.

  With an effort she transferred her gaze to his face. She blinked, as if to restore focus, and said, 'What happened?'

  Linc heaved a sigh, pulling her into a hug, teddy bear and all. 'Nothing, thank God!' he said. 'Nothing.'

  The Land-Rover's engine died away, the driver's door opened and a young man sprang out.

  'What the fuck's going on?' he demanded as he came forward, fright breeding aggression. Then, seeing Linc comforting Josie, 'She all right?'

  'No, she's not all right, you imbecile!' Linc responded furiously. 'What the bloody hell did you think you were doing?'

  'I never saw her!' the youngster protested defensively. Twenty-ish and wearing denim jeans, a tee-shirt and a padded body-warmer, he had a shaved head and a loveheart tattooed on his bicep.

  'You didn't see her because you were on the phone,' someone from the gathering crowd called out.

  Linc looked at the driver. 'Is that true?'

  Something in his low-voiced inquiry seemed to put the wind up the lad, because he backed off a step or two.

  'Is that true?' Linc asked again, more forcefully.

  The young man took three quick steps, jumped back behind the wheel and slammed the door.

  Linc would have followed him, but Josie dragged on his arm and suddenly Crispin was there, in front of him.

  'Leave it, Linc! He's not worth it.'

  Uncharacteristically angry, it took a moment or two for Linc to simmer down. He watched the Land-Rover pull away then said, 'Yeah, you're right. Sorry, Bro.'

  The drama over, most of the crowd began to drift away, one or two congratulating him as they passed.

  Linc turned back to Josie.

  Ni
kki was with her now. 'Are you okay?' she asked him. 'I think you dented his Land-Rover.'

  'I didn't feel a thing,' he said truthfully. 'But I'd like to have dented him! Are you all right, Jo Jo?'

  She nodded, her colour back to normal. 'Thanks to you. I feel so stupid, but I was looking the other way and honestly didn't hear it.'

  'It was the loudspeaker,' Nikki agreed. 'I didn't either.'

  'Nor me,' Crispin put in. 'Good job Linc was on hand to do his heroic bit.'

  'Yeah, that's me,' he agreed. 'I'll do anything to impress a crowd.'

  Above their heads the public address system crackled into life again.

  'Ladies and gentlemen, once again we apologise for the delay. The cross-country phase of the competition will get underway in ten minutes. Will the first competitors please report to the stewards at the start? Thank you.'

  'Looks like I'd better go and find my mount,' Linc observed.

  Leaving the three of them to walk out on to the cross-country course to find a good vantage point, he hurried back in the direction of Nina Barclay's horsebox, only to be accosted on the way by Sandy.

  'Hi. I didn't know you were here,' Linc said, not slowing but nevertheless looking round nervously for Tiger's brindle form.

  'He's shut in the lorry,' Sandy informed him, rightly interpreting his actions. 'Yeah, I've got a pitch up the other end. All above board and legal, this time.'

  'Glad to hear it. Look, I can't stop now. I've got to warm Hobo up for the cross-country . . .'

  'Oh, okay. Well, can you come and see me at the unit sometime? Soon. You see, I think I might have found a sponsor for you.'

  That stopped him.

  'You what?' Linc asked, slightly breathlessly.

  'I think I've found you a sponsor,' Sandy repeated, patently pleased with himself.

  'Wow! Who?'

  'Not now. You're in a hurry, remember? And I've left a mate looking after the stand. Can you come to the unit – say, tomorrow? About eleven?'

  Linc was desperate to know more, but at that moment he was hailed from across the showground and looked round to see Nina leading Hobo towards him.

  'Yes, okay. Tomorrow, eleven o'clock. And you'd better not be winding me up!' he warned.

  Sandy shook his head, all injured innocence, and Linc turned away to meet Nina. Seconds later, he was on board and, when the girth had been tightened, rode away to limber the horse up.

  It was difficult to keep his mind on the task in hand whilst he did so.

  A sponsor!

  Money to bolster his own, barely adequate input. The prospect opened up all sorts of new possibilities. More horses, a horsebox, relief from some of the most pressing horse-related bills. If it hadn't been Sandy's doing he would be happier, though. The saddler's approach to most things was just a tad too relaxed to be reliable. Would he have briefed this potential Godsend on the full nature of the commitment?

  As he was called into the start box, Linc had to make a conscious effort to put the whole thing out of his mind. The responsibility he had to Nina, Hobo and himself, was too great to permit anything but his complete concentration. In what is one of the most dangerous of sports, a momentary lapse can spell serious injury or even death. After his fall the previous week, Linc had never been more aware of that fact.

  As the countdown began, he shortened his reins, settled his feet firmly in the stirrups and, last of all, set his stopwatch running. On the word go, Nina called out to wish him luck, and he was away.

  Hobo was sublime. In the few weeks Linc had been riding him, he had improved more than could ever have been hoped and today never felt like putting a foot wrong. Recalling that the ride was his for the foreseeable future, Linc's heart was singing as they took the last line of three fences and galloped in a good ten seconds inside the time allowed. Unless someone topped their dressage score, which so far no one had even looked like doing, there was now no way they could lose. It began to look as though Hobo had won his first one-day event.

  When Linc set off for Shaftesbury the following morning he couldn't entirely suppress the glow of excitement he felt, in spite of his very real reservations about Sandy's reliability. Waking in the early hours, he had done a good job of convincing himself that the offer would turn out to be one made on spec, with no real understanding of what it entailed, but even so a glimmer of hope refused to be extinguished.

  Outside Sandy's unit a familiar white BMW stood on the tarmac, and Linc glanced at it thoughtfully as he passed, remembering that the last time he'd seen its owner he'd been tearing a strip off Sandy.

  'Linc, hi. Come on in.'

  Sandy had come to the door and now stood back to let him enter. He looked eager, Linc thought as he returned the greeting, but there was also a touch of something that could have been apprehension.

  'You okay?' he asked.

  Sandy nodded. 'Yeah, sure. Listen, this could be your big chance, mate. Don't blow it.'

  That was a strange choice of words, Linc reflected, as he followed the saddler into his office. If the offer were a good one, he would certainly do his best not to blow it.

  Getting up from a chair by Sandy's desk as Linc came in was the BMW's owner. He stepped forward with a smile and an outstretched hand on which several chunky gold rings were displayed.

  'Morning, Linc. I assume I can call you Linc, if we're going to have a business relationship?'

  'Everyone calls me Linc,' he said, effectively robbing the privilege of any importance. 'And you are?'

  'Alan Judge. Judge Haulage. Everyone calls me Al,' Judge informed him. 'It's pointless waiting for Larry to introduce us.'

  'Sorry, Al. I was about to,' Sandy said. 'Can I get anyone a coffee?'

  He didn't react to Judge calling him Larry, and Linc wondered if it was his real name.

  'Not now, later perhaps,' Judge replied, answering for both of them before Linc had a chance to speak. 'What we would like is a little space so we can get down to business.'

  'Not for me either, thanks, Sandy,' Linc added quietly.

  'Right. Well, I'll leave you to it, then,' the saddler said, apparently unoffended by this cavalier dismissal from his own office.

  As the door closed behind him, Linc found himself a seat and sat opposite the businessman, looking at his short, thick wavy hair and well-formed, if slightly heavy features, and wondering why he was struggling to like the man. His rather autocratic manner was nothing unusual among those at the helm of large businesses, and Judge Haulage was a large business; Linc had seen their lorries in all parts of the country. The man plainly had a talent for making money, and was just as plainly accustomed to getting his own way. It was possible that he wasn't actually aware that he was brusque to the point of rudeness, but even more likely, in Linc's view, that he knew and didn't care. Maybe that was what Sandy had been trying to prepare him for.

  He sat back and tried to keep an open mind. After all, he hadn't got to like the man to do business with him, and offers of sponsorship hadn't exactly been flooding in so far.

  Half an hour later, having discussed the proposed deal at length, as an outline and then in more detail, Linc's opinion of Judge's business acumen had been confirmed. When he'd asked what the sponsor expected to get out of the deal, bearing in mind that eventing is anything but a high-profile sport with even wins at world level rarely making it on to the national sports news, Judge had had his answer ready. His business was primarily haulage, he'd explained, but to keep his sizeable fleet of lorries on the road it had become necessary to have facilities for their maintenance and repair. The huge garage he'd set up in the Midlands had begun to branch out into lorry conversion and customising, and he was now turning an eye to the horsebox industry.