never speak to each other?” He seemed slightly embarrassed by his own seriousness. “Carole was just giving me her views on the first race at Lingfield.”
“Was she?” asked Jude, with some surprise.
“She fancies Deirdre’s Cup, and I can see the way her mind’s working, but I just wonder whether he can produce his turf form on the all-weather.”
“That’s obviously the big question,” said Carole, trying to avoid her friend’s eye. Out of Gerald Hume’s sightline, Jude let her jaw drop in a parody of stunned surprise.
“Well, I might be swayed by your opinion,” said the retired accountant. “I’ll wait till just before the off, see how the market rates Deirdre’s Cup.”
“Good idea,” said Carole.
“We can actually go now,” said Jude. “Our meeting’s going to be later in the day.”
“Oh,” said Carole. “Well, may as well just stay and see this first race at Exeter.”
“Yes, wait and see if Deirdre’s Cup floweth over,” said Gerald Hume, rather pleased with this verbal felicity.
“Very well,” said Jude, still bemused.
In the few minutes before the race, the odds on Deirdre’s Cup grew shorter and shorter till he was seesawing for favouritism with the horse which had started the day odds-on.
“Someone knows something,” observed Gerald Hume. “Where do you get your information from, Carole?”
“Oh, here and there,” she replied airily. “One keeps one’s ear to the ground.” Again she looked studiously away from Jude, on whose face was a pop-eyed expression of disbelief.
“Right, I’m going to grab that eleven to four while stocks last,” said Gerald Hume and hurried up to the counter with open wallet.
“Are you not betting?”
“No.” Carole still avoided Jude’s eye.
“Well, I’m going to do something. I can’t watch a race without having a financial interest in it.”
Jude went each way on a wild outsider called Lumsreek, which she got at thirty-three to one. Already planning how she’d spend her winnings, she rejoined Carole and Gerald, who seemed as relaxed as if they’d known each other since schooldays.
Before the race started, Wes and Vie rushed in from some other abandoned decorating job and just managed to get their bets on in time, so the actual running was accompanied by their raucous shouts of encouragement.
Not that they did much good. In both cases, the horses whose praises they had been singing before the ‘off’ were condemned at the end as hopeless nags. Deirdre’s Cup did better, though. Never out of the first four, he put in a big challenge in the last furlong, actually leading for a few strides before the favourite reasserted its class and got home by a short head.
“Worth watching, that horse,” said Gerald Hume. “Going to win a race soon.”
“Yes,” Carole agreed sagely.
“So how much did you lose?” he asked.
“Oh, I didn’t bet on it.”
“Canny. You fancied it, but you knew something…?”
“Well…”
“Thought he needed the race?”
Carole wasn’t quite sure what the question meant, but it seemed to invite agreement, so, ignoring the flabbergasted look on Jude’s face, she agreed.
“Yes, I should have thought it through,” said Gerald Hume. “Are you going to do something on the next?”
“Oh no, I think Jude and I had better be off. Things to do, haven’t we?”
Jude, still mystified by Carole’s behaviour, agreed that they did indeed have things to do. “Also,” she said, “if the way my luck’s going is characterized by the running of Lumsreek…” Her fancy had come a very distant last “…I think I should keep out of betting shops for the next few days.”
“Still, maybe I’ll see you in here again?” asked Gerald Hume, directing the enquiry very firmly towards Carole rather than Jude.
“Oh, I don’t think so. As I said, I’m not an habituee.” This time she didn’t feel so stupid saying the word. In fact, she felt rather classy. Confident even.
“Well, I hope we will meet again somewhere,” said Gerald.
“I’m sure we will. Fethering’s a very small place, and I only live in the High Street.”
“Good heavens, I’m in River Road.”
“Very close then.”
“I’m sure we’ll meet up.”
The two women were nearly back at their respective homes before Jude asked, “So what was all that about, Carole?”
Her friend looked all innocent. “What?”
“Gerald Hume. Had you met him before?”
“Never.”
“Well, you behaved as if you knew each other very well.”
“Yes. Strange, that, isn’t it…?” Carole mused.
“Any explanation…?”
“No, it’s just…there are some people one meets, with whom one just…clicks. Do you know what I mean?”
“Oh, definitely,” said Jude, suppressing a smile. “I’ve fixed to meet Ryan in the Crown and Anchor soon after five-thirty. Are you coming?”
“I certainly am,” Carole replied.
“Very well. See you then.” And Jude went into Woodside Cottage, her bewilderment by no means reduced.
Carole went into High Tor, feeling really rather good. She really had clicked with Gerald. For a moment she toyed with the unfamiliar sensation of being a bit of a femme fatale.
? Blood at the Bookies ?
Twelve
“I speak to Tadek’s landlord. Nothing,” said Zofia. Her voice down the phone was cold and disappointed.
“What do you mean – nothing?” asked Jude.
“It is like he do not know who he rents his rooms to. So long as they pay, he doesn’t care who they are. Tadek was just another student for him. If the police had not questioned him, he would have forgotten my brother’s name.”
“So you didn’t get any idea of how Tadek spent his time?”
“The landlord does not live near the house with the rooms in. It is just for money. He might as well be taking profits from slot machines.”
“Did you go to the house?”
“Yes.”
“And did you manage to speak to any of the other residents?”
“Not many are in. Two I speak to. They also only remember Tadek because the police have been round asking questions. How can people live so close and not know each other?” the girl asked plaintively.
“They can do it because they’re English,” Jude replied. “I’m afraid there’s a strong tradition in this country of keeping oneself to oneself. Have you heard the expression: ‘An Englishman’s home is his castle’?”
“No. And certainly where Tadek was living was not a castle. It was very bare, not a nice place.”
