‘There’s this pig in Italy,’ he said from his place at the breakfast table. ‘She’s called Mona Lisa and she’s sniffed out ten thousand pounds’ worth of truffles. I mean, how cool is that? Talk about bringing home the bacon before becoming the bacon!’
Harry had taken a sip of tea, but he was laughing so hard at his own joke that he had to spit it out before he snorted it out of his nose.
‘That’s gross!’ said Charlie, as she pushed her chair back and left the kitchen.
Her breakfast conversations with her brothers nearly always ended like this. It was as if they saw the line between appropriate and inappropriate and took a running jump at it to make sure they landed on the far side.
‘It’s all a game to the boys,’ said Charlie’s mum, Caroline, following her into the hall. ‘They think of things to say that will annoy or upset you and, my darling, you fall for it every time. You’re going to have to learn not to rise to the bait because it only encourages them.’
She reached out to Charlie and pulled her close.
‘My little warrior. I know you look for the best in everyone, but I fear your brothers are beyond redemption. You’ll have to do your own thing and there’s no point having dreams unless they’re big ones – after all, it was you who dreamed we could win the Derby and you got that one right. The bank would have taken the farm if it wasn’t for you.’
Charlie’s face was buried in her mother’s jumper so her reply was a bit muffled.
‘’Snot me you should fank. It was Noggy and Go who did it.’
‘What?’ Her mother released Charlie to let her breathe and speak clearly.
‘It’s not me you should thank,’ she repeated. ‘It was Noddy and Joe who did it.’
‘Ah, but we all know that without you and Percy it would never have happened.’
She gave her daughter one last hug.
‘Right, you need to make sure the yard is looking spick and span and I need to check on my gingerbread and mashed-potato cake.’
‘Are you sure it was meant to have mashed potato in it?’ Charlie queried. Her mother read books for a living, but her ability to follow a recipe accurately had never been a strength.
‘Well, it was meant to be grated carrots with the gingerbread, but we’ve given them all to Percy and Noddy, so I’ve used potatoes instead. We had a spare bag and I honestly don’t think anyone will notice.’
Charlie wasn’t so sure. She made a mental note not to eat any of the snacks on offer. By the looks of the crowds arriving, they wouldn’t have enough anyway, so she’d better warn the rest of the gang that it was a case of FHB: Family Hold Back.
Suddenly Boris started barking. A minute later, Charlie heard a car screeching to a halt outside. She ran to open the front door. Behind the wheel of a dark green convertible was a woman wearing a headscarf, large sunglasses and bright red lipstick.
‘Darling!’ she shouted, as she switched off the engine and violently pulled the handbrake up. ‘I’m so sorry I’m late. Got stuck behind a tractor. Crawling it was, no faster than a snail. So FRUSTRATING!’
‘Granny Pam!’ cried Charlie. ‘You came!’
Granny Pam was Caroline’s mother and she was always late. She would say it was the traffic or sheep in the road or a sudden eclipse, but Charlie suspected it was because she always left home half an hour later than she should have done.
‘Never mind, I’m HERE NOW!’ Granny Pam swung her legs out of the driver’s seat and slammed the door behind her. She glided towards Charlie and kissed her on both cheeks, making a lot of noise but no contact with her face.
Granny Pam had been an actress in her youth and still maintained something of a dramatic nature. She was always immaculately dressed and wouldn’t be seen dead without her hair and make-up in place. She was also slightly deaf, which may have been why she sometimes spoke VERY LOUDLY, as if she was still on stage. Projecting, she called it.
‘We’re going to put on such a SHOW this weekend,’ she said, as she sailed into the house. ‘This will be the Open Day to end all Open Days. We’ll give it a touch of the business of show. We need to make an entrance, shake a leg, create a little razzamatazz. THEATRE! That’s what it needs.’
Granny Pam pronounced ‘theatre’ as if it was three separate words – THEE-AH-TER. She gestured with her arms like a dancer. ‘But first I require TEA!’ she proclaimed. ‘That journey always leaves me parched!’
‘Come into the kitchen then, Mum,’ said Caroline, looking slightly flustered as she always did when her mother visited. ‘There’s a pot on the go. Charlie has things to do, don’t you, love?’
Charlie nodded. ‘See you later, Granny Pam.’
Charlie and Polly headed out into the yard. They fed the horses, the pigs and the chickens, and collected the eggs. Then they swept the yard and hosed it down, and took a cup of tea to Charlie’s dad, who was hosing down the milking shed.
When she had the chance, Charlie ran upstairs to change, leaving Polly to help Mrs Bass in the kitchen. She rummaged around for a pair of jeans that weren’t covered in mud and slipped on the jacket she had been given when Noble Warrior ran in the Derby. Granny Pam had added a bit of creative needlework to the back so that instead of saying Noble Warrior, Derby Runner it now read Noble Warrior, Derby Winner.
‘Hey, Boris,’ she said. ‘You need a new outfit as well. There we go – that looks splendid!’
Charlie stepped back to admire his new red-and-white spotted neckerchief. It set off his dark brown eyes and gave him a country cowboy swagger. Boris sat with his head on one side, not sure if the new addition was quite him, and let out a quizzical squeak.
‘Come on, boy, let’s get this show on the road,’ said Charlie.
Boris jumped up and barked his approval before slipping past her and galloping down the stairs. He turned a circle at the bottom, and then another, growling at his tail as if he’d forgotten it was actually part of his own body.
‘You are a daft dog,’ laughed Charlie at her beloved Border terrier.
‘Charlie, can you give this letter to Joe?’ asked Caroline. ‘It arrived this morning.’
‘Will do,’ replied Charlie, glancing at the postmark. ‘Looks like it’s from Ireland. I didn’t realize Joe knew anyone out there.’
‘Maybe it’s one of his dad’s old jockey friends,’ said Polly. ‘I’ll catch you up in a minute. I’m just helping put the icing on your mum’s rhubarb and radish scones.’
Boris ran across the farmyard towards Joe, who was busy grooming Noble Warrior, making sure he looked the part for his parade. Boris jumped up at Joe, who leaned down to scratch his ears. Boris squirmed with pleasure and rolled on to his back.
‘Ooh, that’s good, isn’t it, Boris?’ said Joe. ‘I know, yes, I do. I know. The best things in life are food, sleep and having a good tummy rub.’
Joe smiled up at Charlie. ‘Sometimes I wish I could be just like Boris,’ he said. ‘Not worry about anything, be happy just to be me and make the most of every day.’
Charlie looked at Boris, who was now digging himself a nest in the straw. Percy shot him a warning glance with his ears back, to make sure he stayed away from the hay he was munching.
‘It’s true,’ she said. ‘Noddy has his insecurity and Percy has his greed, but, apart from his tendency to wear manure as aftershave, Boris is pretty perfect.’
Joe had finished plaiting Noble Warrior’s mane and now started brushing him with a body brush, wiping him with a soft, brushed-cotton stable rubber after every stroke. Soon his body was gleaming like polished ebony. He was a beautiful animal. Strong and muscular, yet sleek and toned.
Joe moved on to brushing his tail, which flowed behind him like fine strands of cotton. Noddy was almost jet-black with no white markings on him at all. Percy, on the other hand, had nabbed all the colours in the paintbox. He had one blue eye and one pale brown, a golden body and a creamy white mane and tail. He had a pink nose and a broad white stripe down the centre of his face.
‘Beauty and the Beast,’ said Joe, as he looked from one to the other.
‘Shhh!’ Charlie put her hands over Percy’s ears. ‘He’ll hear you and you don’t want to get on the wrong side of him. He still hasn’t forgiven Harry for calling him U-G-L-Y when he first saw him.’ Percy had nearly broken Harry’s foot that day and Charlie was convinced it was because he could understand certain words in English. She’d tried grooming him as best she could, but, no matter how hard she tried to make his mane lie flat, it would always pop up again into a messy Mohican.
‘Oh, by the way, this came for you,’ said Charlie, remembering the letter.
‘Can you read it to me?’ said Joe. ‘I’ve got my hands full at the moment.’
Charlie carefully opened the envelope.
‘It’s from Seamus O’Reilly, the Irish trainer!’ she exclaimed. ‘He was so nice to me on Derby Day, even though we beat all his horses.’
‘Why’s he writing to me?’ asked Joe.
‘Let’s find out. “Dear Joe,” ’ Charlie read. ‘ “I hope you’ll remember that we met briefly on Derby Day” –’
‘Remember?’ Joe interrupted. ‘He’s the champion trainer. He’s my hero. Of course I remember meeting him!’
‘Maybe he’s just being modest,’ explained Charlie, ‘and doesn’t want to assume that you’ll only remember him because he’s famous. Anyway, listen to what he’s got to say.’
She continued reading.
‘ “I was very impressed with your riding that day. In fact, it was more than just that, it was your horsemanship that I noticed. Many jockeys can ride a fast finish and plenty are good judges of pace, but not everyone is a natural horseman as well. You have a very special gift, Joe, and I wanted to ask if you might be interested in working for me” –’
Charlie stopped suddenly and looked at Joe, her mouth dropping open.
‘Here,’ said Joe. ‘Give it to me.’
He quickly read the rest of the letter while Charlie practically skipped on the spot. For Joe, who wanted to have a career as a jockey, this was the chance of a lifetime.
‘Gosh,’ Joe said when he had finished the letter. ‘He says that he knows I’ll always want to ride Noble Warrior and he’d let me do that, even if he has a runner in the same race, but that he’d love me to be a part of his team.’
‘Joe, that’s fantastic!’ Charlie exclaimed. ‘He’s the best trainer in Europe, probably in the world, and now he wants you to ride his horses! It’s amazing!’
Charlie beamed up at Joe, expecting him to be grinning back at her. But his face was serious, sad even.
‘What’s the matter, Joe?’ she asked. ‘This is good news, isn’t it?’
Joe swallowed and answered slowly.
‘It’s great news. It’s what I’ve always dreamed of. But there’s a problem. A big problem.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Charlie, confused.
‘Charlie, he wants me to move to Ireland.’
Chapter 3
‘Oh.’
Charlie finally understood. This was one of the biggest jobs in racing. Of course Joe couldn’t do it from a farm in the middle of nowhere. Of course he couldn’t milk cows in the morning and ride at Royal Ascot in the afternoon. That would be impossible.
‘What are you going to do,’ she asked in a small voice.
‘I don’t know,’ Joe replied. ‘I mean, I want to be a jockey and win races, but … how can I leave Folly Farm? Your family has given me everything.’
Charlie’s head was swimming. This was a huge decision for Joe. She didn’t want him to leave, but she didn’t want to stand in his way either. This was his big break, his opportunity to ride the best horses in the world rather than just one. But she couldn’t imagine what the farm would be like without him.
Joe looked at his watch.
‘Well, I can’t think about it now. It’s almost time for the parade.’
‘OK,’ said Charlie. ‘Let’s talk about it afterwards. I’ve told Larry to hit the music at ten thirty exactly and we’ll make our entrance.’
Mr Bass came into the barn in his overalls and cap.
‘You wouldn’t believe how many people have turned up,’ he said. ‘Hundreds! They’re all out there in the yard, drinking fresh milk and eating your mother’s cakes.’
Charlie looked surprised.
‘I know! They must be hungry!’ Bill Bass let out a deep, warm laugh, full of love and appreciation for their good luck.
‘Polly’s talking to her parents,’ he said. ‘They’ve brought some of the staff from Cherrydown and a couple of owners who wanted to see the Derby winner. Most of your teachers from school are here and I think all of your year too. The butcher is chatting to the landlord from The Swan. Granny Pam is talking to everyone and I’m a bit worried as to what on earth she’s saying. It’s quite a crowd.’
Joe smiled and stroked Noble Warrior’s neck.
‘All for you, boy. They’re all here for you.’ Charlie noticed the look of complete adoration in his eyes. Joe loved Noble Warrior so much. No wonder he was in a pickle about whether to accept Seamus O’Reilly’s offer.
‘Are you getting changed, Dad?’ asked Charlie.
‘Nah,’ Bill Bass replied. ‘I got a terrible rash from that tweed suit I was going to wear at Epsom and I feel a lot more at home in overalls. Given that we are at home, I think I’d better stick with what makes me comfortable.’
Charlie grinned at him. She loved her dad and his refusal to be swayed by the expectations of other people. When they won a million pounds from the Derby, he said all he wanted were a few things for the farm. No new car or cashmere jumper, no meals in fancy restaurants or expensive holidays. Just a second-hand tractor called Eric and four more cows that they named Jenny, Venetia, Sue and Lucinda after the four women who had trained Grand National winners.
‘Are Harry and Larry keeping the crowds entertained?’ asked Charlie.
‘Well,’ said her dad, ‘in a way. They’ve set up a game with the pancakes your mother made. Seems they’re a bit on the tough side, so the boys are turning that into an advantage and seeing who can throw their pancake the furthest. It’s like the discus competition at the Olympics, only the winner gets a carton of eggs rather than a gold medal. The cameras are loving it.’
‘The cameras?’
‘Yes,’ said Bill. ‘Harry and Larry invited loads of TV and radio reporters. There are a few of them here, including a crew from the BBC who are talking about making a documentary. Maybe we’ll all end up as famous as Noddy.’
Charlie shrugged. There were girls at school who always talked about wanting to be famous, but she didn’t care for the idea at all. She had only agreed to this Open Day because she thought it might be good for Noddy’s confidence, not because she wanted to be admired by a crowd of strangers.
As they were chatting, Joe and Charlie put the finishing touches to their charges. The plan was to lead Noble Warrior and Percy into the farmyard where Charlie would make a short speech. Then people would be allowed to take personal photographs with the Derby winner.
‘Are you ready?’
Polly had appeared, gloves on and ready to lead Percy. Charlie looked at her watch. It was 10.29 a.m. She sighed.
‘Oh, well. If we’re going to do it, I suppose we’d better try and do it properly. Let’s go.’
Joe peeled off his overalls to reveal his sparkling clean racing kit. The green-and-gold colours shimmered as he moved. Polly giggled nervously. Joe reached into his bag for his crash hat, covered by the gold cap, and put it on his head.
‘I feel a bit of an idiot in this get-up when I’m not riding in a race,’ he said.
‘You shouldn’t. You look very smart,’ said Polly quietly. So quietly that Charlie wasn’t even sure Joe had heard her.
Suddenly the sound of ‘We are the Champions’ by Queen came belting out of the portable speakers Larry had ordered from eBay and set up in the yard. The chickens, who had been happily pecking round the cobbles, sud
denly scattered, clucking frantically. Those dance lessons from the boys had clearly scarred them for life.
The crowd started clapping as Boris trotted out with Charlie, ahead of Percy led by Polly, and Noble Warrior led by Joe. They walked in a circle and then came to a stop in the middle of the yard. Hundreds of phones were held up to take photos and videos.
‘I’d like to thank you all for coming!’ shouted Charlie before Larry ran up to her with a microphone. Suddenly her voice was coming out of the speakers. Noble Warrior raised his head and pricked his ears as Joe stroked his neck to soothe him.
‘It really is lovely to see so many people who helped to make our dream come true,’ continued Charlie. ‘From Mr and Mrs Williams, who let us use their gallops and their horsebox; to Mr Dawson, who gave us the high-protein racehorse feed we needed; Eugene the farrier, who shod Noble Warrior before the Derby; my parents and brothers for being so supportive; and Joe for riding such a brilliant race. But most of all, ladies and gentlemen, today is a celebration of our equine heroes, so three cheers, please, for Percy and for Noble Warrior! Hip hip …’
The crowd roared back: ‘HOORAY!’
The next hour was taken up with letting people take selfies with Noddy and answering questions from all of the children in the local area, most of whom wanted to know more about Percy. Noble Warrior was beautifully relaxed and responded kindly to the children, reaching down and gently nuzzling them. He pricked his ears as the cameras and iPhones clicked constantly but didn’t startle or shy away. Charlie smiled with relief. Maybe the Open Day was good for his confidence.
Bill took various groups to meet the cows, who all seemed very pleased to have some attention – apart from Madonna and Princess Anne, who looked even grumpier than usual. Harry was selling eggs at an inflated price and Larry was playing up to the TV cameras by giving them a long and serious lecture about the difficulties of training chickens to dance and the detective abilities of pigs. Meanwhile, much to their surprise, visitors to the milking shed found Granny Pam giving a full-volume rendition of Alan Bennett’s A Woman of No Importance. Some stayed out of politeness while others shuffled quickly away again.
The Racehorse Who Disappeared Page 2