Flaxmead

by Brian Cain

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Monday was another hectic day but Winston Blake was in luck, the very horse float he had inspected some months before was still available for sale. The only problem was the float was at the manufacturer in Melbourne. Blake dealt with a man he meet whilst inspecting the float called Neville Creighton the managing director of Heavy Transport industries. Blake was aware of how switched on Creighton was when it came to thoroughbred horse floats, Creighton mentioned he had a few horses of his own and remembers he dug at Blake to find out why he wanted the float. Creighton was aware of Wilson Hornswaddle and Bartholomew Fothrington but was defensive in why and Blake used the cloak of the eccentrics dealings with horses to cover his tracks. Blake put Creighton's knowledge and application down to industrial need if he manufactured state of the art horse floats but there was a deeper reason.

  Neville Creighton was in fact an entrepreneur and race horse owner of high standing. With many trophies in his cabinet including the Cox Plate and Caulfield Cup but one trophy a life long ambition had eluded him the Melbourne Cup. Creighton processed the payment and noticed the float had not been paid for in the name of Hornswaddle and Fothrington but Winston Blake. This aroused interest within Creighton, why would a managing director of a winery in the Hunter Valley require a half million dollar state of the art horse float that could transport horses anywhere in Australia with ease and why did he inspect the float stating it was for Hornswaddle and Fothrington then buy it himself. Creighton found these things a little odd and decided to do some digging. He arranged for one of his drivers to deliver the float as requested by Blake, he personally spoke to the driver before he left. He then spent some time on the internet; it wasn't long before he found something very interesting. Roger Palmer horse whispering services, Flax Bourton, United Kingdom, managing director listed as a one Winston Blake.

  Blake informed everyone of the pending arrival and arranged sign writers to decorate the exterior surfaces of the vehicle as a surprise. The truck was what he would call British Racing Green or close enough to it for his liking. Blake felt it was time to advertise what he had always believed that Flaxmead was an unbeatable champion, painstakingly in gold lettering the sign writers made the tandem Hino float into a work of art. Blake could stand back and look at what he had worked to achieve for so long, in bold gold lettering half a metre high.

  FLAXMEAD

  THE HUNTER VALLEY THUNDERBOLT

  The Shangri La, Loudbark and Harpers stable logos were neatly added to the doors of the cab. He looked at it but something was missing, he rummaged around in his computers pictures taken at the weekend on his digital camera and found a perfect shot. Head shots of Anna and Dylan with Flaxmead nestled neatly in the middle, the sides of the truck were redesigned with patience from the sign writers somehow convinced they were becoming part of history in the making. The picture of the trio became centre feature over two metres high on either side of the fourteen metre long truck. The gold writing moved to top and bottom of the bold picture the hunter valley thunderbolt in the shape of a horseshoe underneath. It took three days but it was worth it, Blake stood back and looked at it in all its splendour. It was grander than Ross Hildebrand's float from Scotland as this is what it brought to mind, Blake had envisaged what he could see before him at that very time. He never thought it would bear so much more meaning than what now graced his optic nerve. With this monster parked at Harpers and Flaxmead at Shangri La Blake knew the media and horse racing industry would have absolutely no idea what was going on. Already he had a plan of movement for the float to pick up Flaxmead from Shangri La that could be implemented with help from Loudbark.

  Friday and the float was shown to Anna Dylan Bob and Graham. They stood wide eyed with plenty to say but unable to say it. The children danced in circles as Harper inspected the facilities inside. Upon making himself familiar with the vehicle he stood with his hands on top of his head looking content. Flaxmead was due to run tomorrow at a Saturday meeting in Newcastle a class two race.

  "Well I never thought I'd see the day we can go anywhere in this thing," said Graham Harper.

  "Gives things a bit more perspective," remarked Blake.

  "Well leave from here in the morning and give this a whirl, they'll get the message tomorrow if they haven't already," said Graham.

  "On the other side of the property below the range there's a dirt track that leads to McDonalds road. If you come in one way and go out the other doesn't matter which and always park at your place will be most confusing," added Winston.

  "I know the road, bit of cloak and dagger I like it. The o'l mates black horse is already at my place, will hide him while were supposed to be gone. He's off to Sydney the weekend after this with Meadow all this will help, he's in a class three race when he gets passed all the build up the real stuff starts," said Graham.

  "If the traffic at your places gets bad well hide the float but see what happens first," added Bob. "Marie is coming to Newcastle this weekend with the kids I'll get her to take the kids in the punters entrance."

  Blake had to think, Marie had seen him at the Fields property with Stanton and explaining things was going to be difficult but he decided to wait and see if she recognised him. "I'm going in with Clifford, I'll find them in the crowd and say hello."

  Jessica had already moved in to the trucks living quarters and prepared the horse cubical for Flaxmead while everyone was admiring the view. She was well aware that transporters were not always wine and roses but this one impressed her. Final plans for the morning were discussed before the clan broke up and headed home.

  Kerry Snow and the Greedy Piggy Creek mob punters also had big plans for the Newcastle race meet. Busses had been arranged to take the growing host of punters to the track. The Fixed Hole mob were also to the fray, a firm flutter on how many lengths Flaxmead would win had been discussed between the groups with the wager of a full round of beers for the winner. The Come Fly With Me Union officials had noted the coming together, opposing union lodge delegates had been at loggerheads for years. Poor communication caused by stern differences of opinion on union affairs this would be the first time the groups had mingled since mass sackings by the mining giants years before. Union officials saw the coming of Flaxmead as a god send and planed to attend to encourage a common following of the horse.

  It was an early morning for everyone, by ten the Newcastle Jockey Club in Darling street Broadmeadow was at near full capacity. A horse float had to be moved to a position where it could be cordoned off by security staff; it was the most photographed horse float on the planet. Race seven was the big puller a two thousand metre handicap and Kerry Snow predicted a win of fifteen lengths plus. There was not a horse in the race that could hold a candle to the powerful black stallion. Flaxmead again carried top weight from barrier four in the field of fifteen runners. Little Lindy Cumberland had the usual problems with Flaxmead in the muster area and trot up to the starting barriers unfortunately a long way from the complex at Newcastle and with well rehearsed precision entered the barriers last. Another track record fell to the thundering monster again leading from start to finish with the roar of the crowd carried on the breeze across the suburban rooftops. With Jessica now present Flaxmead was kept in the winners circle for extra time with a very excited Anna and Dylan before being taken back to the float. Two CFWMU lodge officials were seen shaking hands at the bar both had predicted winning margins in excess of fifteen lengths Flaxmead had won by twenty plus. They all bought each other beer and planned next week's trip to Randwick in Sydney.

  Winston Blake had spent time with Marie and the children as the meeting began to break up he joined the clan. Flushing Meadow had won her first grade three race the feature race of the day and Little Lindy Cumberland had two wins and was now second in the New South Wales jockey premiership points standing.

  "I've had you're wife's ear most of the day Bob been a great chin wag," said Winston.

  "Yeah I never have to say much when Maries around," replied Bob. />
  "Will they be coming to Sydney next weekend?" asked Winston.

  "No bit much for them maybe later events during the holidays. Grahams going down Friday setting up shop in the grounds the float is making things much easier," replied Bob.

  "Things are panning out well with Jessica on board," added Harper. "I'm going to get going this thing is a breeze to drive. I'll go in from the back entrance go through the fence and come out of Loudbark the media won't know what's going on." He climbed into the float cab, Jessica comfy in the passenger seat watched the closed circuit TV monitor of Flaxmead and Meadows cubicles. The regal vehicle left with a final few snapshots from the keen as it carefully negotiated the main gate.

  Blake had successfully talked with Marie and the children about things in general and the visit to the Fields property had not come up. Whilst walking to the car park a red Ford Mustang powered out of the gate onto Darling Street in a cloud of smoke, Dylan made a comment. "Hey that's the car with Flaxmead on the front."

  Marie looked to be locked in deep thought but Blake continued on in a nonchalant fashion. "Yes the Mustang emblem does look a bit like Flaxmead in full flight," said Blake. He thought it odd he had not seen Stanton amongst the crowd although he recognised the car from the ominous supercharger shining in the sun protruding well above the bonnet.

  "Id like a Flaxmead car one day," added Anna.

  "That may be sooner than you think if Flaxmead has anything to do with it," added Blake.

  "I've seen that car before," said Marie. "It came to our house a while back."

  "Mmm me too, I think he's a horse salesman," replied Blake.

  Marie nodded with a look of realisation. "Yes I think he is, no wonder he's here today, probably trying to sell a few horses."

  The red Mustang had not powered onto Darling Street for nothing, it tailed a black Mercedes Benz. The Benz followed the horse float, after tagging the Benz well out of sight by the time it reached the New England Highway Stanton pounced convinced it was tailing the float on purpose. Stanton pinned it to the kerb cutting its exit path and blocking the inner lane at some traffic lights, the Benz could not move blocked in by traffic behind it. Stanton casually approached the vehicle amid protests from his wife Jodi and knocked on the tinted window. It opened half way and Stanton recognised the driver, the security guard from Taggart's stud in Wyong. "This car is registered to Taggart. If I see it anywhere near these people again even in the same state Taggart will have to move to the moon. These people don't deal with underhanded crooks but I do. You won't be able to drive down the road, you won't be able to show our face in public, you won't be able to even show your face in the cross. This is the last time I tell you, bugger off and don't come back."

  Stanton returned to his vehicle tailing the car directly behind it until it accessed the F3 freeway and headed for Sydney. His wife once briefed on the vehicle could only think of the children.