‘I don’t think so.’ He paused. ‘I think she was too busy doing good works for charities or going off to the West Indies for the sunshine. I remember being happier at school than I was at home.’
So sad.
‘Harrow,’ I said. ‘I know someone who was at Harrow. But he’s younger, so he’d have been there after you.’
Anthony took that as an insult. ‘I keep in touch with the old place,’ he said. ‘What’s his name?’
‘George Lochs,’ I said. ‘But when he was at Harrow he was called Clarence Lochstein.’
Anthony thought for a while.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Neither name rings a bell.’
‘How would I find out about his time at school?’ I asked.
‘Not still doing that stupid investigating, are you?’ said Jenny.
‘Now, now, Jenny,’ said her father. ‘You know perfectly well that Sid does very well at it and he is much respected in racing circles.’
Jenny didn’t actually say so but I could read from her expression that respect in racing circles didn’t rate very highly with her. I was sure that she must have read somewhere about Huw Walker, and also about my having found his body at Cheltenham, but I was equally sure that she wouldn’t say so in case it was interpreted by Anthony or Charles as her still having some interest in me or in what I did for my living.
‘You could always contact the old boys’ association,’ said Anthony, bringing us back to Harrow. ‘They have a resident secretary at the school, chap called Frank Snow. He’s a retired housemaster and there’s nothing worth knowing about Harrow that he doesn’t know.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘I’ll give him a call.’
Anthony suddenly looked somewhat irritated with himself, something to do with collaborating with the enemy, no doubt.
Finally, after soup, roast beef and then apple crumble, the lunch was over. Jenny had not failed to notice that Mrs Cross had cut my roast beef into fine strips that I could eat in single-mouthful portions, and that my Yorkshire puddings had been mini ones. She had said nothing, just rolled her eyes and smiled. But I knew that smile. It was more to do with irritation than with humour.
My injuries had been one of the major factors in our lost love.
Steeplechase jockeys get injured. It is an unfortunate but unavoidable consequence of the job. Horses do fall over. Sometimes they fall because they get too close to a fence, and sometimes they fall because they stand off too far from one. Occasionally they trip over other fallen horses that are already lying on the ground, and every so often they simply stumble on landing. The reasons may be varied but the outcome is pretty similar. Half a ton of horseflesh travelling at up to thirty miles an hour crashes to the ground and the jockey goes down with the ship. Eating grass at half a mile a minute becomes an occupational hazard, along with the bruises and the broken bones, the dislocating shoulders and the concussions.
Jenny found she couldn’t live with both the deprivations required to keep my riding weight down, and the need to pick up the pieces when things didn’t go to plan. Looking back, the injuries were always the catalyst for rows.
*
Marina and I made our escape soon after lunch, as we had planned.
Jenny came out to my car as I was loading our last few things.
‘How did we ever come to this?’ she said.
‘To what?’ I asked, but I knew.
‘To trading insults whenever we meet, to scoring points over one another.’
‘It doesn’t have to be like that,’ I said. ‘Are you happy?’
She hesitated. ‘Mostly. Are you?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Very.’
‘Good, I’m glad. Life with Anthony is more predictable than with you.’
‘Less exciting?’
‘Yes, that too. If you call spending nights on hospital sofas exciting.’
We laughed. We laughed together. Something we hadn’t done for a long time.
Marina, Charles and Anthony came out of the house.
‘Take care of yourself,’ Jenny said. She stroked my arm, the real one.
‘Take care of yourself, too.’ I gave her a kiss on the cheek and, just for a moment, there were tears in her eyes.
Marina gave Charles a hug, which seemed to embarrass him somewhat.
‘Thank you so much,’ she said. ‘This was just what I needed. I can go back now and face the world.’
‘It was nothing,’ said Charles. ‘Come whenever you want.’
‘Thank you, I will.’
Anthony gave her a peck on the cheek and Jenny didn’t seem to mind one bit. I shook hands with them both.
‘Thank you again, Charles.’
He waved a hand.
I drove away. In the end, I was thankful that we hadn’t avoided Jenny and Anthony.
The following day, Monday, Marina decided not to go in to work. We had both become rather obsessed with security and decided that, for the foreseeable future, I would take Marina to work and collect her every day in my car. I told the reception staff downstairs that on no account were they to allow anyone up to my flat without calling up on the internal phone system first to check with me that they were welcome. Absolutely, Mr Halley, they had said. They never would, anyway.
I called Harrow School and asked to speak to Frank Snow. They were sorry, they said, but Mr Snow is only in his office on Tuesday and Thursday mornings. Would I like to leave a message or call back? I would call back. Fine.
I phoned Archie Kirk to give him an update on my lack of progress with the internet gambling. I had a few questions still to ask and would get back to him soon, I said. Good, he replied, and hung up. Never trust anyone, not even a telephone.
I sat for a while in my office tidying up my e-mail inbox. I was restless.
Marina came in and caught me playing cards on my computer.
‘For goodness sake, Sid, go out and investigate. I thought we’d been through all this. Yesterday you were gagging to find the killer so why this change of heart all of a sudden?’
I shrugged.
‘I told you,’ she said, ‘I want the same protection as you, I want the same reputation.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Now get a bloody move on and stop wasting time.’
‘Right,’ I said standing up. ‘Action stations.’
I decided to go and see Kate Burton and the children, and Marina came with me.
I had telephoned Daphne Rogers to find out if Kate was still staying with her. No, she’d said, Kate and the children went home two days ago. So I had called Kate at home and she was delighted that we were coming.
I drove into the familiar driveway and pulled up outside the back door. Immediately the children came running out to greet us. Life seemed to be back to normal, deceptively normal.
The children dragged us both into the kitchen where Kate was waiting. She looked little better than when I had seen her last. Her eyes showed the signs of a great deal of crying and she looked thinner, almost gaunt.
‘Sid, how lovely to see you.’ She gave me a kiss.
‘Kate, this is Marina — Marina, Kate.’
‘You poor thing, what happened to your face?’
‘A car accident,’ said Marina.
‘How dreadful,’ said Kate. ‘Come and have a coffee.’
The children went out to play in the garden while the three of us sat in the same kitchen at the same table
