by Joe McNally
‘Maybe.’
‘Why?’
‘Don’t be mad, Eddie…I don’t know why. Maybe I won’t go. But I want him to see where his father used to live. Rory, his biological father.’
That changed things for Eddie. He knew it would be Marie’s first step in helping Kim find his father. And Eddie had no doubt about the longing in his sister’s heart for the boy she had loved and that time she had been happy and no longer clinging to the wreckage that was the remains of the Malloy family.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I didn’t mean to be sharp with you. The place haunts me. I don’t want Kim tainted by being anywhere around it.’
‘Eddie, you can’t blame the farm or the land around it. That was beautiful. It was always beautiful, don’t you think?’
‘I can’t see it that way, Marie. I’m sorry. I never will.’
‘It was them, Eddie. Mum and dad. It wasn’t Kyrtlebank. There was promise there. For me, at least. Hope. I spent a long time there hoping.’
‘Then ask him first, Marie, will you? Once you’re on the road, once he realizes where you’re going, ask him if he wants to go there. Don’t force it on him. He’d settle for Greystoke. He doesn’t have to see Kyrtlebank.’
‘I won’t force him. I promise.’
‘Where will you stay?’
‘At the Greystoke Inn. I’ve booked two rooms. Make Kim feel properly grown up.’
‘Want me to arrange a stable visit for him to the Richards’ yard?’
‘That would be brilliant, if you could.’
‘He’ll love it. Proper yard. Proper people. I’ll phone them now and call you back with the details. But when you’re settled in tomorrow night, get Kim to ring me, will you?’
‘Do you think I’d be able to stop him?’
25
Eddie had committed to Fakenham, and that’s where he stood in the changing room with other jockeys watching Nic Buley on Sky News. Buley was outside the Old Bailey burbling his usual buzz words in his supposed defence of the BHA’s decision to seek a criminal prosecution. The three jockeys had just been found not guilty of conspiracy to defraud. Blackaby, Sampson and Kellagher were free to resume riding.
Not much was said in the changing room, though Eddie heard the word farce more often than any other. He grabbed his bag and hurried to the car to call Maven Judge. The trial result had caught many off guard, Eddie included. It took fourteen rings before Mave answered. ‘I’m sorry if I woke you, Mave.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘The trial’s over. Not guilty on all three. The judge stopped it and directed the jury to acquit as there was no case to answer.’
‘Sudden.’ She yawned.
‘Want me to give you a few minutes to wake up properly?’
‘No…Well, let me make some coffee to clear my brain. Give me five minutes. I’ll call you back.’
‘I’m heading home. I’ll ring you when I hit the motorway.’
‘Okay.’
Pulling away from the exit, Eddie cursed the timing. Where was Sonny? Was Nina Raine still with him? Where was Jonty Saroyan? Three witnesses who could be vital to him keeping his licence. Eddie’s phone lit up: Barney Scolder.
Eddie composed himself and hit the answer button. ‘Mister Scolder. What can I do for you?’
‘Just wanted to offer you the chance to comment on the story we’re running on Sunday alongside those lovely colour pictures of you and Sonny Beltrami.’
‘My comment’s the same as when we last spoke.’
‘Remind me.’
‘Publish what you want. You were stitched up by Saroyan. Not only will you be on the end of a lawsuit, but you’ll be on the end of a lot of pointed fingers from your mates who’ll be pissing themselves laughing.’
‘Is that it?’
‘That’s it.’
‘Well, you’ve got my number.’
‘I have. I’ll pass it to my lawyers.’
‘You’re a sound bluffer, Malloy, I’ll give you that.’
‘Goodbye.’ Eddie cut him off, confident there was doubt in Scolder now. He’d be calling Jonty Saroyan and Jonty, if he was still playing out the cash he’d won from Mave’s tips, would not be answering.
Eddie rang Mave and told her.
‘Jeez. Scolder didn’t hang about.’
‘They’ll have had the story ready for a long time.’
‘Like they do with obituaries?’
Eddie smiled. ‘Your sense of humour never fails you when I’m in the shit, Mave.’
‘I work hard at it, believe me.’
‘You heard from Sonny?’
‘Not a word since the last bet.’
‘Any idea where he is?’
‘I’d love to say with Raine in Spain, but they were thoughtless and went to Turkey, ruining my rhyme.’
‘Will you ring him, please?’
‘I already left him a message and emailed him too.’
‘Thanks, Mave.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ve got the bet data and the recordings with Nina Raine. Want me to call Scolder and arrange to meet him?’
‘Then you’d be outed.’
‘It doesn’t matter. I’ve got more money than I’ll ever need.’
‘And you’ve got a bulletproof winning system. Unfortunately it’s alongside a non-bullet-proof body.’
‘We can worry about that later.’
‘No we can’t. We can make sure we don’t have to worry about it at all by keeping this out of the papers. I can do a deal with the BHA to protect your identity.’
‘Really? The same BHA you constantly slag off as being useless? The same BHA who’ve spent a fortune bringing a worthless prosecution against three jockeys everyone knows are bent, yet still can’t get a conviction? You’d trust them with my identity?’
‘Mmm. Maybe not.’
‘At least Scolder sounds competent.’
‘Mave, don’t call Scolder. Okay?’
‘Okay! Okay!’
‘I’ll drop in and see Mac on the way home.’
‘I’ll have another coffee and get to thinking.’
‘Good.’
‘And listen, Eddie, if it comes to lawsuits against newspapers, what’s mine is yours. There’s plenty here to pay for the best.’
‘Thanks, Mave. I doubt it will come to that. Getting Saroyan to retract before Sunday would kill the story. Let’s try and find out where he is.’
‘Okay. I’ll work on that. Let me know what Mac says.’
‘I will.’
26
In the deep dusk, as Eddie pulled in through Mac’s gates, he recalled that Mac had warned him this was exactly how the case would end, a dismissal by the judge.
Mac’s driveway was empty. The house was in darkness. Eddie got out and walked to the back to check for lights. None. The gravel crunching under his shoes seemed loud as he returned to the car. Lambourn’s small cluster of streetlights glowed down the valley. Eddie called Mac’s number.
‘Eddie.’
‘I’m at your place.’
‘I’m five minutes away.’
‘See you soon.’
Eddie rolled down the window and switched off the car lights, and watched the half-moon on the rise over the woods. Autumn. The air blew cool, gusting here on the hill. Winter waited with its usual promise for Eddie of big races, of hope, of renewal.
Spring was nature’s renewal; winter was Eddie’s. It had always been. The cold, the falls, the wasting to make weights, the best horses returning from summer breaks…inspiration for him. Even the wasting nourished Eddie in a strange way. It deprived his body, but fed his spirit, challenged him, brought him out fighting, restored all his confidence. Whatever race-riding could throw at him, Eddie could handle. If you’ve achieved something even once, you can do it again. And again.
But a licence suspension was almost certain now. At least Eddie could use the time to track down Jonty Saroyan. Mave was much more confident than Eddie was about the evidence she’d bui
lt on Eddie’s behalf. Saroyan was the key.
A cloud covered the moon. Mac’s headlights swung in and filled Eddie’s mirror. Eddie got out.
With three lamps lit in the living room and the paraffin smell of white firelighters in the air, they settled in easy chairs, drinking coffee. Mac loosened his tie and laid his head back to stare at the ceiling and a long sigh came out of him. ‘You okay?’ Eddie said.
‘Been to the cemetery. My first visit this week. Been getting lazy on it, so I sat with Jean until the sun went down.’
Had Mac not been a friend, Eddie would have found some platitude to spout. But the big man was entitled to the respect of silence. He rarely spoke of his personal life or his feelings. Mac stared at the blueish fire flames as they enveloped a split log. ‘Strange how you adjust to living with someone so long,’ he said. ‘You become blind. Deaf and blind to how they feel and who they are. You’re only interested in how they react to you within the relationship, not as people themselves, not as individuals. I wish I could have seen through the shell. I knew Jean was ill, but that just became part of us, part of a joint life. To me, that is. It was way bigger than that to her, but as long as I could file it in a drawer in my mind and accept it, then life just rolled on. Mine rolled on. Jean’s was ebbing away. Under my eyes…Shameful.’
Eddie watched him. Mac watched the fire. ‘You’re being awful hard on yourself, Mac. If it wasn’t for the operation, well…what I mean is, you couldn’t have known.’ Eddie said.
Mac nodded slowly, still staring at the blooming flames. They sat in silence until the coffee was done and Eddie stood and took his empty cup. ‘I’ll wash up.’
‘Thanks.’
Eddie washed and dried in the bright kitchen and found the cupboard where the cups lived. He stood in the doorway watching Mac. ‘That’s it, Guvnor,’ Eddie said, echoing a saying from his past when evening stables had finished and the horses were locked up for the night. Mac smiled. ‘Sit down, Eddie and let’s try and sort your troubles out now.’
‘Mine can wait, Mac. They’re insignificant.’
‘Not to you.’
‘They can wait.’
Elbows on his knees, he looked up at Eddie. ‘We’ve got a relationship too, you know.’
‘I didn’t know you cared.’
‘I’ve taken it for granted over the years.’
‘You’re not the only one, Mac. Ease off on yourself.’
‘Sit down, Eddie. I want to help you. It’s important to me.’
Eddie sat, and Mac hauled his bulk from the chair. ‘I’ve got some whiskey somewhere. Let me find it, and we’ll make a start.’
‘Thanks. I guess I’ll be meeting Broc Lisle soon, if he’s still in a job. Did he come to see you the other day?’
Mac apologized for not phoning Eddie after the meeting. ‘There was nothing to tell, in the end. Lisle came to pick my brain in the hope of gathering something on Jordan Ivory. I’m afraid he went home disappointed.’
‘Must have been a last gasp, considering today’s verdict. Lisle would have known it was coming.’
‘Indeed.’
‘What’s he like?’
Mac returned from the kitchen with a whiskey bottle and two glasses. ‘A character. Unusual man, but likable. I feel for him. I hope he holds onto the job after this. They’ll try to force him out, of course, but perhaps Buley will take the hit this time.’
‘No chance.’
27
By Saturday morning Eddie and Mave knew everything there was to know about Jonty Saroyan except where he was. Mave had tracked down his parents, two brothers, ex-wife, and most of the people he’d worked with in the past. Mac and Eddie, with some help from Mave, had spoken to all of them.
Sonny called from Turkey to say Nina Raine had heard nothing from Saroyan since they’d split, but she’d had a call from the private detective Jonty was supposed to have paid to help find her son; he claimed Saroyan had paid him nothing of the ten grand they’d got for selling Eddie’s pictures.
Nina said Saroyan was an alcoholic. Eddie was told he could be anywhere…on a round-the-world binge or photographing The March of the Cane Toads in Northern Australia. The project title had been Jonty’s and, when he was drunk, he had often bored people with his ‘project’.
Mac used his contacts to find out if Saroyan had visited Australia since July. "Not using his own passport, he hasn’t"
So, twenty-four hours before Scolder’s paper was due to go to press, Eddie had some visits to make. He’d have to go and see Kim and Marie and Dil Grant.
As Eddie zipped up his kitbag, Mac rang. ‘I thought you might want me to tell Nic Buley in advance about the pictures? He doesn’t like surprises.’
‘Fuck him. He can find out tomorrow along with the rest.’
‘I know you can’t stand him, Eddie, but it might make things easier for you if he feels you respect him enough to let him know.’
‘Mac-’
‘Whoa! You don’t actually have to respect him. Just let him believe it.’
‘That’s worse!’
‘Okay. Okay. Let me warn Lisle, then.’
‘So he can tell Buley! No! How can you even suggest this shit, Mac?’
‘Er, because I care what will happen to you?’
‘What will happen to me if I start playing games like that is I will wither inside. That’s what’ll happen to me.’
Mac went quiet, then said, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s all right. Forget it. Just a return of that old infection, office politics.’
‘I think it’s my soul that’s infected, Eddie.’
‘Oh Mac, forget it, will you? Damage limitation’s been your default position for the past quarter of a century. It’s not going to change overnight. It doesn’t turn you into Doctor Evil. Lighten up.’
Dil was in the owners and trainers bar, sitting by the window with two other trainers. Eddie knocked on the window and signalled five with his fingers. Dil smiled and signalled back two and Eddie wandered toward the door to meet him. ‘What’s up?’
Eddie told him as they walked toward the stables.
‘But you weren’t giving the tips?’
‘A friend of mine was doing the tipping. I was just helping move the cash around.’
‘Any of my horses involved?’
‘None.’
They walked ten paces in silence. ‘You know what pisses me off most, Eddie? I could have done with a few of those tips myself.’ He shook back his heavy hair.
Eddie smiled. ‘I’m glad you’re taking it so well.’
He stopped and touched Eddie’s arm to turn him. ‘I’m serious,’ he said. ‘You know how tough things are, running a yard!’
‘Dil, listen. I’m sorry for your troubles, but I didn’t know the horses. I didn’t know what the tips were. I made a point of that, in case something like this Scolder business ever came up. But even if I had known the names of those horses, I wouldn’t have told you. The tips didn’t belong to me. They weren’t mine to give.’
‘You could have asked, at least! Who is this friend?’
Eddie reached toward him now and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It doesn’t matter who my friend is. If you had something running that you thought was a good thing, would you expect me to be giving that out to all and sundry?’
‘I’m not all and sundry, am I, Eddie? I’m the guy that employs you. And you’re supposed to be my friend.’
‘Dil, I wouldn’t care if you were my brother. The tips weren’t mine to give and I didn’t fucking know them anyway!’
‘Keep your voice down, for God’s sake.’
‘I’ll keep my voice down when you get a grip on reality!’
Dil raised his eyes to the skies and his fringe flopped into them and he cursed and pushed it away and leant against the redbrick wall surrounding the stables. He massaged his face with both hands and blew a breath, then looked at Eddie. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly.
Eddie had three rides for Dil.
Grey Heron, the one at longest odds, was in the big race of the day, a handicap hurdle worth £25,000. Grey Heron was a 20/1 shot and Eddie held out little hope until they’d jumped the first flight and Eddie realized everyone was travelling too fast.
No matter how experienced jockeys are, sometimes the wash of adrenaline as the tapes rise in a big race clouds judgement in some, and sows doubt in others. The ground was firmer than the official description of “good”. A combination of unexpectedly fast ground, a decent prize and the knowledge that the race was televised across the country, seemed to stir everyone up.
After the first jump, Eddie decided to take a pull and drop out last. By the third hurdle, they were ten lengths behind the pack and Eddie knew that if he’d got this wrong, it would look to some as if he was riding to lose. But Eddie was confident he was right. Often, the best horse does not win the race. Nor does the fastest, nor the one with most stamina or jumping ability. The winner is usually the horse whose energy has been used to best effect throughout the race; the horse who has kept the most even time fractions furlong by furlong.
This racing pack away ahead of him had to run out of steam. Most racehorses can keep up a decent gallop for a while when fresh. But gradually, the effort takes its toll. The less talented and less fit would be dropping away before turning into the straight for the last time. The better ones would hang on longer. But all of them were racing hard. Grey Heron was lobbing along in a lovely steady rhythm, taking little out of himself. Passing the stands first time, the pair were loudly but good-naturedly jeered for being so far behind.
Eddie smiled and cheekily tipped his cap.
On the final bend before the long straight, they began passing the panting stragglers. Straightening up for home, there were still a dozen in front of them, but Eddie kept Grey Heron galloping at the same pace they’d gone throughout. To those watching, it would seem they were accelerating, cutting through the pack. They were not. The optical illusion as the others faded and drifted from a straight line as they ran out of steam, made it look as though Eddie was powering up through the gears.