love that first night but it hadn't been through any lack of trying on Edward's part, or wanting on mine. It was just a matter of nice girls riot doing that sort of thing.
All of this happened on a Saturday evening and my 'niceness' lasted until about three o'clock the following afternoon, when, after having had a good lunch in a local pub, we spent the rest of the day in bed in Edward's cottage. From that moment on, we had been inseparable and were married six months later on Derby Day.
Unfortunately, Edward's parents disliked me intensely. It had been perfectly all right for him to go out and sleep with an apprentice jockey – even his mother accepted that her darling son would need to sow some wild oats – but to marry one and then father a child was beyond the pale. Still, at least we'd had a boy.
In the end, after that first assault, I decided to stay. I went upstairs and got into bed with Freddie but slept fitfully.
The following morning I crept out of bed and went to ride out for Ralph. My jaw was still sore, but it was a Tuesday and a work morning for the horses and I knew I would be needed.
When I returned Edward was already up. As I walked through the kitchen door, he rushed towards me holding something behind his back and I stood frozen in terror. As he brought his arm forward, I had never been so pleased to see a bunch of daffodils in my life. Edward put his arms around me, begging my forgiveness. But I would not be able to forget what he had done and knew things could never be the same between us again.
I told him it was time he found a job and pulled himself together, and for a little while he really did try. He didn't find a job as such, but at least he made an effort to help in the cottage, and cut out the drinking completely. Even Mrs Parsons, who came up from the village to look after Freddie for me while I was riding, commented on how much happier everything seemed.
Then one afternoon I came home from visiting my mother with Freddie and found Edward slouched in the chair with an empty bottle of whisky by his side. He immediately began shouting at me and Freddie clutched my skirt and began to cry. I told him not to worry and tried to send him upstairs, but he refused to go.
'You're going to help me out with my little problem,' Edward slurred, pointing his finger at me.
'It's not me you need, it's a doctor,' I replied, but he carried on. He saw my recent riding success as a way of getting 'out of bother' as he so delicately put it. 1 reminded him that jockeys gave notoriously bad tips and I was no exception but he just laughed and told me to wait and see.
I didn't have to wait long.
Three days later, just as I was getting dressed to go and ride out for Ralph, Edward called me over to his side of the bed. I was surprised to hear his voice as he usually slept to mid morning.
'I don't want you to win today,' he commanded.
'What are you on about?' I answered, trying to keep my voice down so as not to wake Freddie.
'I don't want you to win,' he repeated, grabbing my wrist.
'Thanks for your support, but if you don't mind, I do!' I tried without success to pull my arm free from his grip.
'Listen to me, you silly bitch.' Edward now sat up in bed, pulled me down towards him and started slapping me about the face.
'I want you to lose. Get it? Is that clear?'
His breath was foul with a mixture of alcohol and nicotine from the night before and his voice had taken on a menacing tone.
'This horse of Ralph's you're riding this afternoon at Worcester is going to be well backed but if you so much as look like winning I'll give you a hiding you'll never forget.'
He stopped hitting me and pushed me away. His eyes were wild with anger. Terrified of waking Freddie and afraid of being beaten further, I tried to reason with him.
'Don't be so stupid. If the stewards catch me and I lose my licence what the hell do you think we're going to live on?'
'Don't worry about the stewards. They're taken care of. It's about time you did your bit to help me out of my present difficulties.'
He grabbed me again and hauled me onto the bed. He no longer made any attempt to restrain his temper.
'You're going to do as I say. If Fainthearted wins today I'll not only give you a good hiding but I'll leave you and take the kid with me, and then apply for custody in the courts. After that, you'll have to leave the cottage. I don't somehow think that the word of a woman jockey, who spends every day at the races and leaves the upbringing of her child to a middle-aged cleaning woman from the village, would prevail over that of the son of a High Court judge when it comes to a decision about custody.'
Before I could reply, Freddie came in crying. As I picked him up and looked at him, I realised that for the moment I had no option.
I will never forget that afternoon at Worcester and the very first occasion in my life when I actually stopped a horse winning. Even then, it so nearly didn't go according to plan. Coming to the last and ignoring all my efforts to discourage him, Fainthearted was only a length behind the leader. To make matters worse, I was sitting with a double handful and I could have won almost without moving a muscle. Desperate measures were called for. I pushed him into the hurdle and really asked for a big one and then at the last moment deliberately changed my mind. He was completely confused and fell through the hurdle, breaking the top two bars and losing his balance with his back legs as he landed. I did nothing to help him and let the leader go as far away as I could before giving the impression to everyone in the stands that I was making a heroic effort to get back up to win. In fact we failed by a length.
Far from suspecting that I had been up to no good, Ralph was full of praise for the way I had managed to stay on board and comforted himself with the reflection that Fainthearted was nailed on next time out. The punters were less sympathetic. They had backed the horse down to 5-2 favourite and I had to listen to the usual cracks about how female jockeys ought to stick to the kitchen sink and bringing up children. If they had only known the real reason they had lost their money, they would have lynched me, woman or not.
It was now three months since that race and in the meantime my relationship with Edward had deteriorated even further. For the first time in years he had become interested in how I spent my day, cross-examining me in detail about whom I had seen and what I had done. Sometimes I felt he already knew the answers and was just trying to catch me out. One thing was clear. This sudden curiosity was not born of any desire to make our marriage work, as he took endless pleasure in ridiculing my friends and belittling my performances in the saddle. I had become a caged bird – to be played with and taunted with no chance of escape.
As I drove down the tricky Hungerford Hill into Lambourn my elation at winning the Gold Cup had given way to a profound sense of foreboding. However I viewed the future for Freddie and myself, it was shrouded in gloom. Edward was not going to forgive this afternoon's betrayal. Since that Worcester race he had made no secret of the fact that I now had to do what he ordered and each night before I had a fancied mount I went to sleep dreaming that I would wake up to be given the instruction not to try. In fact it had only happened on one other occasion, and I had duly caused the nominated horse to fall in a novice chase at Fontwell.
Little had I suspected that he had been saving up for the Gold Cup, the one race that every jockey dreams of winning. I could hardly believe my ears when he had casually mentioned the subject the night before as I turned off the light beside the bed. I had begged him not to make me do it, offering to cheat as often as he wanted in the future, but he just shook his head and laughed.
'I'm sorry, old girl, it's no good. You see, this is the big one, when I solve all my financial problems at a stroke. A touch of genius, I'd call it.'
'But why the Gold Cup?' I asked despairingly. 'I can't see how it makes any difference to you when I throw a race.'
'You wouldn't, would you? Think of all those greedy sods who'll be backing Cartwheel, believing he's going to win, and only you, me and one or two friends of mine knowing that it's the one certainty in the race that won't
