the Gold Cup and the police are going to call him as a witness at the trial. Poor old Jamie! I'm sure he thought it would get you and not me into trouble. He never did like women jockeys! I understand the police are claiming that I drove Edward out to the pit – do you remember the time we had a picnic out there? – and then killed him and set fire to the car to destroy any evidence or any trace of the body. I can't remember what happened that night after we left the pub; all I know is I'm innocent. My solicitor tells me that you're trying to find out who really killed him. Please be careful. Freddie mustn't grow up an orphan. Yours with love, Tom.
Looking again at the envelope, I suspected that it might have been opened and resealed before reaching me. Thank God the letter didn't contain anything that might incriminate Tom, except possibly the reference to our picnic at the chalk pit. I remembered it well.
I couldn't be sure, looking back, whose idea it was; all I knew was that it had been a glorious summer's day and, I suppose, like any other illicit lovers, we had gone up there in search of privacy. We had made love on an old rug that Tom kept in the back of his car, covered in dog hairs. It was the first time I had ever done it in the open air. What I would give to be able to do it again with him. The sound of Ralph's voice telling me that Amy was on the phone put an end to any such further reflection. I rushed to the receiver in the hope that she had some news from Ireland.
'I think we've hit the bull's eye!' she said, gleefully. 'After three obscene calls and a man who tried to sell me a share in a racehorse, I eventually got a call this morning from the man himself.'
'How can you be sure it was him?'
'I did what you told me. I asked him the amount of wages that had been taken that day from Tom Radcliffe's yard. He sounded a bit shaken but still managed the correct answer – nineteen hundred and fifty pounds.'
'Great, that's our man all right. Will he talk to me?'
'Yes, but only on certain conditions.'
'Go on, tell me the worst.'
'He'll only meet you in Ireland; you mustn't tell the police beforehand and you've got to come on your own. And finally he wants five thousand pounds to admit publicly that he was being blackmailed by Edward.'
'Obviously this blackmail business is contagious. But five thousand pounds! Where will I find that kind of money? I've only got about five hundred in the bank and it's not as if the winners are coming in by the handful.'
'What about your percentage for winning the Gold Cup?'
'The bank's already been promised that. You see there's the additional bank loan on the cottage to keep up and clothes and food for Freddie.'
'Couldn't Ralph lend it to you?'
'I've asked enough of him already. I can't even raise any money against the cottage as it was in Edward's name and now belongs to Freddie, in trust of course.'
'You could always ask your father-in-law, or Sir Arthur,' Amy chipped in.
'You mean, do my own spot of blackmailing?'
'I'm only joking – or I think I am. Even if you do somehow raise the money, how can you trust Corcoran? For all you know he could make you hand it over in some dark lonely spot and then do a runner. Result, unhappiness.'
'I know, the same thing had occurred to me. All this stuff about coming on my own and not telling the police is pretty damned suspicious.'
'First Edward and then you?' Amy asked rhetorically. 'It's unlikely. He wouldn't have talked to me about it if he had that in mind.'
'I suppose so, but he might see it as the only way to get at me. He's not very bright, you know.'
'Does that mean you no longer want to see him? He's phoning back at three o'clock for an answer and if it's on to make the necessary arrangements.'
'No, I'm definitely going ahead. I've no option, whatever the risks. What's the time now?' I had left my watch upstairs in my bedroom.
'Ten-thirty and I'm just wondering which client I'm going to charge the last hour out to!'
'I'm sorry, Amy. I really do appreciate what you're doing for me and I'll try to pay you back one day.'
'Don't worry, I wasn't being serious. Look, why don't I come with you? Corcoran doesn't know me from Adam, or rather Eve, and provided I keep at a safe distance I can keep tabs on what's happening and at least be near at hand if he tries anything.'
'I couldn't ask that of you. You've done enough already and as you yourself just said, this could be dangerous.'
'All the more reason for me to be there. You set about trying to raise the money and I'll try and beat Mr Corcoran down on his charges. I'll be in touch after he's called back this afternoon.'
'Thank you, you're a real friend.'
'Don't embarrass me. By the way, is Saturday all right for you to rendezvous?'
'Fine. I'm not riding again until Monday and we can fly there and back over the weekend. At my expense of course.'
'We'll argue about that later. Perhaps we could go to the races before meeting him. I've never been racing in Ireland before.'
'What a great idea. Hold on, I'll have a look and see where they're running. You never know, I might even try and find someone to give me a spare ride.'
I put the receiver down and walked across the hall to the kitchen, where a racing calendar was pinned up on the wall beside the Aga. Limerick and Fairyhouse had the honour. I returned to the phone and suggested that we tried Limerick and met Corcoran in the town afterwards. Amy sounded delighted.
'It's agreed. I'll tell Corcoran we'll meet him there after the races. For the kind of money he's demanding I don't see why we can't lay down the odd condition.'
'Bravo, that's fighting talk. I'll wait to hear from you.'
I liked the idea of having a ride over there and on the basis of nothing ventured nothing gained, decided to call Willie O'Keefe, a trainer with stables in County Limerick. Willie had chatted me up over the years and had promised to give me a ride if I ever came over.
I obtained his number from directory enquiries and dialled it straight away. Willie was at home, but only just. He was on his way to the races where, he said, he had a sure thing running. He sounded delighted to hear from me and when I told him I was coming over for the weekend to Limerick he took the hint and asked if I wanted that spare ride he had always promised.
'I'd love to,' I said, 'if you've got anything entered.'
'For sure I have,' he replied in his rich Irish brogue. 'What an honour this is for the rider of the Gold Cup winner to be phoning me, a humble Irish trainer and asking for mounts.'
'Stop taking the mickey,' I replied. 'The honour's all mine.'
'I've just the thing. He's called Jimmy the One and he's entered in a two mile handicap chase. He's a stone cold certainty.'
I remembered that with Willie they always were. 'But haven't you already promised the ride?' I asked, not wanting to go round jocking somebody else off.
'No bother. It's only my nephew, Shaun, and the way he's riding at the moment even the horses are begging for the virus. I think it's a great idea and I look forward to seeing you in the weighing room before the first.'
I thanked him and spent the rest of the morning in Cirencester and then Cheltenham trying to pawn my wedding ring and a gold bracelet my grandmother had left me.
That afternoon Amy phoned me back with Corcoran's proposals. At four-thirty, I was to go to Mrs Moloney's tea rooms in Limerick, where I was to await further instructions. After ten minutes' tough negotiations Amy had been able to beat his financial demands down to four thousand pounds, two thousand up front on the day of the meeting and the remainder after he had made a statement to the police in England. It was agreed that he would travel back with us that weekend to avoid any risk of his having second thoughts and pocketing the money.
Amy herself was becoming a little sceptical.
