by Brian Cain
CHAPTER EIGHT
Royal Ascot was a picture, Stanton stood on top of the float in the driveway of the Ascot police station opposite the main entrance on the other side of the road. He had for month's concocted plans and thought of ways to access the parade ring just before the race. Ascot was a difficult place to work from a horse float, all places a float could access without to much fuss were a long way from the parade ring, Stanton scraped them all in favour of a bold attention grabbing plan under the nose of officialdom. The media and officials buzzing around the decoy float nestled among others in the parking area safely inside the Royal Ascot complex were becoming agitated. The float had been there for over two hours and no horse or person had made an appearance, no one directed any attention to the arrival of a plain float identical to the mobile billboard grabbing all the attention in the driveway of the police station. A British bobby stuck his head out of the police station door, upon seeing the float he walked to the driver's door; he looked at the number plate a second time, overseas registration he was unfamiliar with. He tapped on the window and Hildebrand opened with a smile. "Can I help you lad."
The Bobby was a London cockney, a young corporal. "You can't park this here mate, move immediately or you'll get done two hundred quid." Stanton looked down from the top of the float and startled the young police officer at the same time the rear ramp of the float struck the ground and Jessica Flametower led Flaxmead onto the tarmac of the drive way in view of the officer with Lindy Cumberland aboard. Trainer Graham and his wife Liz Harper appeared with bundles of paperwork under their arms and stood next to Flaxmead, Flaxmead reared up and the cry of the Banshee ripped through the stadium. The young officer put his hands on his hips. "Who's horse is this."
Stanton spoke down to him with a smile. "That is no ordinary horse, that's Flaxmead. In around an hour or so Flaxmead will run here at Ascot. We have brought the horse here, in this manner, to avoid the possibility of threats on the horses wellbeing materialising." Stanton climbed down foot holes and handles in the side of the float to the ground just back from the cab and looked in the face of the officer, now looking blank and bewildered. He shook the young officer's hand. "John Stanton, and you are."
"Tr....Trevor."
Stanton gestured toward the gathered, this is Flaxmead whom as you could hear is quite pleased to be here, strapper Jessica Flametower." Jessica waved and smiled. "Mr and Mrs Harper Flaxmead's trainers and on board jockey Lindy Cumberland. You have already met Ross Hildebrand." Ross climbed out of the cab standing next to Stanton with a nodding smile. "We need to cross the road and enter the complex, I thought under the circumstances of threats of harm to Flaxmead, you could stop the traffic and supervise our crossing."
"Blimey, I got a hundred quid on this thing mate." Several other officers had come out of the station and stood wide eyed in the driveway. The officer walked to a sergeant and explained.
The sergeant a rank cockney walked over to Stanton his entourage in tow. "I am disgusted with what I have read in the papers about threats to this horse, we'll have none of this bollocks here mate." He turned to his associates. "Right you lot, sort yourselves out, block the road off and escort this horse and staff across to the complex."
"There's two pandas pulled up in the road sarg, they can't get up the drive way."
"Pull em across the road, block the road completely, hold up all traffic." The street became a hive of activity as traffic was halted and an increasing police presence lined each side of the road to the main gate."
Flaxmead was led across the road, the sergeant accompanied Stanton as they led the group. "Just between you and I sergeant, how much has the station waged on Flaxmead."
The sergeant looked over both shoulders. "Two thousand quid that I know of, also sir, many years ago you trained my son, he's a lance corporal now, doing well."
They reached the gate and were stopped by gate officials.
"I didn't catch your name sergeant."
"Briscoe, Reginald Briscoe."
"An, private Briscoe, unit one, I remember him well, a fine lad."
A tall thin grey haired man approached them wearing a grey suit and id badge Clerk Of Course. He spoke with an opulent plum in his mouth. "What an earth is going on here, this ruckus was brought to my attention."
Harper handed some papers to the gentleman, he glanced through them, looked at Flaxmead and Lindy smiled at him. "Good Lord, this is most unusual."
The sergeant chimed in. "Never mind about that mate, causing a disturbance here, can we get this horse to where it's supposed to be."
Recovering from shock the gentleman pointed direction. "Of course follow me."
The sergeant pointed to a group of officers behind him. "You bleddin idle shower, follow this horse and don't let it out of your sight, anything happens to that horse other than run the race, and you'll be doing traffic in Brixton for duration."
"Right sarg." The officers walked with the group discussing strategy.
Stanton slapped Briscoe on the shoulder. "The float."
"You win that race and you'll be far less popular with the establishment than you already are, you'll need it quick smart mate. It's impounded under investigation right where it is, till you need to drive it away."
Stanton chuckled and left the smiling sergeant to return to his duties.
There was a meeting in the operations room, board members including Stillwell were present, they were interrupted by a knock on the door and a burly man in a suit burst in. "John Stanton parked a float in the driveway of the Ascot police station ten minutes ago, Flaxmead has entered the parade ground, the place has gone mad."
Stillwell discussing the scratching of Flaxmead threw his pen on the table and sighed. The course legal representative burst in the door and confronted Stillwell. "I just had a call from a one Anthony Stanton, Sydney Barrister. He brought my attention to scratching clauses in the contract signed for the appearance of Flaxmead, why would he do that." He waited stern faced for an answer.
There was silence and still as the gathered studied Stillwell's face. "There's no problem, there's no scratching, and I have no further comment."
"This is the biggest crowd we've ever had here, revenue in all areas is way up, The biggest press contingent ever from areas of the globe we only dreamed of reaching, what's wrong with you man you should be bathing in champagne. I have informed Stanton lawyers everything is fine and Flaxmead is in the parade ground."
Stillwell smiled at the two men. "Thank you gentleman would you leave us." They left, the lawyer slammed the door behind him."
A worried face at the table directed his scowl at Stillwell. "What now."
"We go and watch a horse race gentleman, not much more we can do. This Flaxmead will no doubt set a new record here, in May next year the horse will go to the US in a one on one race with the American unbeaten thoroughbred Thunderbolt. Two major Middle East stables will now scratch their runners in the King George. Things were made very clear to me, they did not want to take on this damn horse at this event and loose."
"Doesn't make any sense, if they wish to reap the fruit you have to shake the tree."
"Would appear there is more to it than I anticipated, I am now extremely concerned about things."
Stanton stood inches from Lindy at the weigh in. He mounted a nearby viewing rostrum overlooking the parade ring, he never took his eyes off her or Flaxmead. As Lindy mounted for the race, two strapper's led Flaxmead to the course access lane, Jessica Flametower and Kalika Palmer, Roger Palmer spoke with the most elite making a point of passing him in the member's area. As Lindy passed Stanton she smiled and winked, Flaxmead entered the course and cantered toward the starting gate. Stanton felt helpless, although he watched her every move he knew help should it be needed was out of reach in time to do any good. Flaxmead played up and the crowd was becoming verbal and restless, Flaxmead had drawn the outside gate and the favourite Royal Ransom the inside. A complaint was lodged regarding Flaxmead's aggressive manner behind the sta
rting gate; the clerk of the course tore it up. Flaxmead was the last in, the light came on, Stanton turned away leaning on the rail of the rostrum and listened to the very English race caller, a celebrity guest for the occasion and not a professional race caller but with a life ambition to call the race.
'They are under starter's orders and away in this years King George, and it's the outside barrier flashes to the lead and takes the rail the Australian stallion Flaxmead. I have a little difficulty hearing myself over the crowd, never experienced such an atmosphere, amazing how much noise a few Australians can make. Favourite Royal Ransom way back in the field as Flaxmead continues to set a cracking pace, the field suffering several scratching prior to starters orders leaving gaps between the gates some taking advantage, Royal Ransom pulls to the outside shadowed by Flushing Meadow and Celtic Storm. New Zealand stayer Won-Tolla second this horse has come close to the Australian champion Flaxmead on more than one occasion, but still a commanding performance from the unbeaten Flaxmead. Good lord at the half mile a new course record by nearly two seconds. It's Flaxmead from Won-Tolla closing on Won-Tolla Sinead Courtney aboard the Irish stayer Malachi, she's pushing up the field at an alarming rate the only grey in the field. Its still Flaxmead, Won-Tolla, American sprinter El Toro, Nathaniel a previous winner of this event, midland stayer Crossbow, Celtic Storm, Flushing Meadow, Royal Ransom boxed in by the Australian and just as I mention it Celtic Storm draws clear and Royal Ransom comes off the rail and goes with her and at the mile Flaxmead sets a new course record of, hang on, nearly three seconds that would explain the current ten lengths to Won-Tolla. This really is a cracking pace what, of all the races I get to call its one that breaks records here at Ascot. Prince Sinbad moves up with Persian King changing places with Lords Play and Limerick champion steeplechasers. Flaxmead continues to power on, now a good fifteen lengths clear of the of Won-Tolla pressed by Malachi and Sinead Courtney moves into second place from Won-Tolla, nearing the two mile and Royal Ransom is pushing up flanked by the Australian pair Celtic Storm and Flushing Meadow. Malachi draws clear and Nathaniel moves past Won-Tolla to take third place closing on the Irish stayer. Royal Ransom pushing Celtic Storm and Flushing Meadow but the Australians go with the Brit champion, Royal Ransom pulls clear, past Won-Tolla, presses Malachi into second place with four furlongs to go and we have a new two mile record by over three seconds set by Flaxmead." The caller stood up in amazement. "The little girl on Flaxmead or indeed that's what she looks like form this distance has hunched down notably behind his ears and he has shot to the outside rail as he enters the final straight, good lord have a look at that horse go never seen anything like it, that is an incredible kick, no chance of Royal Ransom catching him now but he's having a damn good try. And that's it ladies and gentleman, Flaxmead ridden by Lindy Cumberland they call the pocket rocket wins this year King George by a massive margin of around twenty five lengths shattering the previous record by Harbinger of 2.26.78 seconds, the course record now standing at 2.22.4 a start to finish whitewash that will be hard to beat. Second and just outside Harbingers record is Royal Ransom, a magnificent run jockey Lester Elliot followed by Sinead Courtney aboard Malachi, Sinead Courtney the first jockey to ever ride Flaxmead made the statement at the time and on British soil, give me that horse and I'll give you the world. Well the world called and Flaxmead answered, it is indeed the best horse in the world that won here today.'
Stanton took solace in Lindy Cumberland's beaming face, she ran to him to be taken to weigh in when she dismounted in the winners circle. She embraced her rock. "He just ran Mr Stanton, all I could do was hide behind his ears, I didn't laugh, I never said a word after light. He was like a rocket, all I could hear was his hooves I was concentrating so hard. I realised what we'd done when I passed Anna and Dylan at the post. Wow we won the best race in the world." Stanton put his arm around her and led her to the weight in. Lindy noticed Winston Blake was absent, he stalled talking about it too much changing the subject. Correct weights were given and as Stanton and Lindy returned there was Bella, looking over the Anna, Dylan and their parents like a bird of prey. She saw Stanton and tossed her hair to one side with the look of a vixen, Lindy noticed. "Do you know that lady Mr Stanton?"
"Yes I do poppet."
"She's very beautiful."
"Yes."
"How do you know her?"
"I went to school with her."
"Oh that's Bella."
He looked into Lindys eyes. "You know, someone's told you. You enjoy your day poppet because we can't always have what we want, we must focus on what we need. Need and want are a long way apart."
Lindy looked puzzled. "I hope I know what you mean one day Mr Stanton."
"When will you call me John?"
"Never Mr Stanton, you will always be Mr Stanton to me."
"You better go over to Flaxmead, the Queen is looking at him, and she will want to meet the pocket rocket."
"Oh goodness what will I say?"
"Whatever you want, today is your day and if it's your day its mine."
Lindy hugged Stanton. "I love you Mr Stanton."
"I love you too poppet." Lindy made her way to the winners circle from the rail, a few metres; she was greeted by the Queen.
Harper left Flaxmead after meeting the Queen walking over to Stanton, he took Stanton's arm and led him from earshot. "I just had a call from American rancher Hank Bryce, owner of the American horse Thunderbolt. He wants a one on one in May of next year at the Kentucky Derby meeting in the US."
"What do you think?"
"Bryce said he often argues with his wife but not the American president, apparently the president was on the phone soon as the race finished."
"Makes no difference to us what the president thinks, what do you think."
"Bryce really believes his horse is better."
"Did you tell Lindy?"
"Yes, I did mention it to try the water."
"What did she say?"
"Bring it on dude."
They laughed. "I must admit I haven't felt so good for a long time when I saw her beaming face when she rode into the winners circle here."
"I mentioned it to the Fields."
"What did they say?"
"They must have heard Lindy."
"Its ten months to next May, the focus is getting Flaxmead back home. Get Flaxmead and we'll put him in the float and get going, were not out of the woods yet. There are a lot of pissed of looking flamboyant types getting around. Call this Bryce and get the ball rolling, I'll be there. I have to find Winston and his daughter, god knows where they are. Has anyone had a call?"
Harper shook his head with a pout. "No, haven't heard anything."
Stanton climbed over the rail and headed towards Flaxmead. "Come on lets go."
In the early hours of darkness a jumbo transporter landed at Foulness Island, three vehicles climbed the ramp and the nose cone closed. It took to the air bound for Australia. Dave Burrows peeked out his window at the dull lights of the giant plane in the distance; he went into the Garden and watched it lift off and vanish into the night. He walked toward his tractor thinking of the prestige in telling his story from the bar stool of the local pub. He sighed as he climbed the ladder to his cab and muttered to himself. "Dahh, no one would believe me like."