his left sleeve.
‘Now, Sid,’ he grinned, ‘what is it ya’d be after?’
‘Jonny Enstone.’
‘Ah,’ he said, ‘the good lord. What’s he done to ya?’
‘Nothing. In fact, I recently had lunch with him.’
‘Did ya indeed,’ he said. ‘Did he pay?’
‘Absolutely. We were discussing business.’
‘What business?’
‘His, not yours,’ I said with a smile.
‘Come on, Sid,’ he said, ‘I’m the very model of discretion.’
Indiscretion is more like it, I thought. Paddy knew everything there was to know about racing and racing people but he liked others to know he did, so he was forever telling little secrets to anyone who would listen. He didn’t do it with any malice, he just did it.
‘How about George Lochs?’
‘Ah,’ he said again, ‘young Lochs. Bit of a calculator on legs, he is. Real whiz kid.’
‘What might connect George Lochs and Jonny Enstone?’ I asked.
‘What’s this, a quiz?’
‘Do you know?’
‘Come off it, Sid. Ask me another. Dat one’s far too easy.’
‘What’s the answer then?’
‘It’s make-a-wager.com.’ He smiled broadly. He knew I was impressed. There was a swagger in his manner as he downed the rest of his pint.
‘Fancy another?’ I asked.
‘To be sure,’ he said. ‘I’m not driving today. Got a lift.’
I ordered him another Guinness and I had another Coke. I was driving.
‘So what about the good lord and young Lochs?’ he asked, after testing the new pint.
‘I only wondered how they met,’ I said.
‘Enstone helped Lochs set up his business. Years ago now. Must be seven or eight at least. Apparently, he put up some money to help start the company and so he became a director. Still is, I think.’
I nodded; I had learned as much from Companies House. ‘But how did George Lochs know him to ask for the help in the first place?’
‘What are ya up to?’ Paddy looked at me quizzically. ‘What are ya investigating? Is there a fiddle going on?’
‘No, nothing like that, I’m just curious. I met them together at Cheltenham and thought them an odd couple.’
‘Both bloody ruthless, if ya ask me,’ he said.
‘So you don’t know how they met then?’
‘I didn’t say dat.’ He smiled again. ‘Rumour has it that Peter Enstone knew Lochs first and introduced him to his father. I don’t know how Peter met him.’
‘Oh, interesting.’ I made it sound as though it wasn’t that interesting. I finished my drink. ‘Thanks, Paddy. See you at Aintree?’
‘Absolutely. Wouldn’t miss the National.’
‘See you there, then. Bye.’ I turned to go.
‘Is dat all ya want?’ he said. ‘Was dat really worth a couple of Guinnesses?’
‘Not everyone measures things so precisely,’ I said. ‘Maybe I just wanted to buy a mate a couple of drinks. For old time’s sake.’
‘Don’t be bloody daft,’ he said and laughed.
I hung around for the rest of the afternoon managing not to run into Andrew Woodward. I saw in the racecard that he had a runner in the last so I decided to leave immediately after the race to avoid meeting him again in the car park. I hoped that he would still be busy unsaddling his horse.
Roadtrain, the mount of Peter Enstone, the no-hoper, the waste of space, won by ten lengths at a canter. I glanced at the Tote payout information. Roadtrain had started at odds of 10 to 1 in a five-horse race. If that didn’t ring some alarm bells in the Stewards’ room nothing would.
I decided not to wait around to find out and made my way with the throng to the exits, coming up behind an unsteady Paddy O’Fitch.
‘Hello again, Paddy,’ I said. ‘Are you all right?’
‘To be sure I am,’ he said with a slur. ‘But I tink I’ve had a bit too much. All your bloody fault, forcing drink down me throat.’
He wobbled and grabbed hold of an iron fence.
‘Are you sure you’ll be OK?’ I asked again.
‘I’ll be fine just as soon as me bloody lift arrives.’ He peered into the faces of those behind me making their way to the car park.
‘Who’s giving you a lift?’ I asked.
‘Chris Beecher. We’re neighbours.’
Are you indeed? I thought.
‘I’ll leave you here, then.’ I had no wish to see Chris Beecher today, or any other day.
‘Right.’ He sagged against the fence. I left him there, still scanning approaching faces with unfocussed eyes. He’d be fine.
Marina was feeling much better when I returned to Aynsford, although the bruising around her eyes looked even worse than it had that morning. She and Charles were in the little sitting room and had already started drinking.
‘Sun’s over the yardarm, I see,’ I said, giving Marina a kiss.
‘Just a small sharpener before I change for dinner,’ said Charles. He waved at the drinks cupboard. ‘Help yourself.’
I poured myself a small Scotch with plenty of water. I was determined to take it easier that evening.
‘Have you had a good day?’ Marina asked.
‘No, not really,’ I said. ‘I had a row with a trainer who I should have kept as a friend, and I was cold and miserable all afternoon. Did you?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact we did.’ She smiled across at Charles, who smiled back at her.
‘You two look as thick as thieves,’ I said.
‘We’ve been talking about last night,’ said Charles.
‘About the attack?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ said Marina, ‘and also about your fears for me.’
I glared at Charles but he didn’t seem to notice.
‘Your Marina, here,’ he said, ‘is a truly lovely girl. I think I’m falling in love again.’
‘You’re too old,’ I said.
‘Sid!’ said Marina. ‘That’s not very nice. I do believe you’re jealous.’
‘Nonsense.’ But I was. However, not in the way she thought. I wasn’t so jealous of Charles liking Marina, more the other way round. Charles was
I shook my head and thought that I was being silly. These two people were, to me, the most precious things in the world. Why should I not want them to love each other? So why did I feel so resentful that they had been talking together without me there to act as the intermediary? I told myself to stop being such a fool, but I wouldn’t listen.
‘So what have you two decided?’ I asked rather haughtily. I heard the tone of my own voice and I didn’t like
