Declared Dead

I chose to ignore the jibe. 'Is Lingfield still on?' I asked.

'The racing is, but Mainbrace isn't running. I've checked with the Clerk of the Course and as the going's so heavy we're allowed to withdraw without incurring a penalty. I've discussed it with the owner and she's not prepared to take the chance. That means you've got a day off and if you want my advice, and you're going to get it anyway, you won't spend it with that rascal Radcliffe.'

'Don't be so cruel. He's very nice really. In fact, I'm going off any minute to see a friend in London.'

'London? That's the last place you'd catch me spending a free day. Ah well, it takes all sorts. Make sure you look after yourself: you know you're my favourite girl jockey!'

'I know, and I'm also your only girl jockey!'

I put the phone down and smiled at Tom. 'Good old Ralph. I owe him so much.'

'Dirty beast. I reckon he's got a soft spot for you.'

'Who, Ralph? Don't be ridiculous! He's twice my age.'

'When's that ever stopped anybody? By the way, who's this friend you're going to see in London? Is he anyone I know?'

'That'd be telling. But for your information, it's a she.'

* * *

I drove to Didcot station and took the next train to town. An hour and a half later, I was sitting in the lounge of the Waldorf Hotel in the Aldwych having coffee with Amy Frost, an up and coming solicitor and old school friend. Even though she had been against my marrying Edward and studiously avoided his company ever since, Amy had remained loyal and supportive to me and if anybody could help me now it was going to be she. I told her the whole story, beginning with the Worcester race and ending with the previous night's attack with the boiling water. She listened impassively, even making the occasional note on a jotting pad perched on her shapely crossed legs.

'So there it is,' I concluded. 'My husband's a vicious and egotistical lunatic who is knee-deep in debt and it seems I can't leave him without losing custody of my child. Is he really right when he says the courts would prefer him to look after Freddie rather than me?'

Amy picked up her coffee. 'It's not quite as simple as that. I suppose you've seen the announcement in this morning's papers?'

'No, why? I read the Sportsman on the train and planned how I could do away with my husband without being caught. Weedkiller ought to do the trick.'

'I'll treat that as a joke. It's your beloved father-in-law. He's just been appointed Lord Chief Justice, probably the most important legal job in the land.'

'Is that as bad as it sounds?'

'From your point of view, it couldn't be much worse. I can't somehow see the Lord Pryde, as he will now be called, sitting back and watching his son lose custody of the heir to the family name.'

'Nor can I. I can just picture Lady Pryde turning up in court to say what a decent loving chap her son has always been, forced to stay at home and care for Freddie while I gallivant about the country riding racehorses.'

'Hold on, Victoria, it's not that hopeless. There is some justice in this world. However impressive Edward's pedigree, it'll end up being your word against his and if you can show him to be an outright scoundrel you'll win custody even if his father's the Pope, if you know what I mean.'

'Isn't that a bit of a problem – and I'm not referring to the Pope! I'd have to come clean on all this horse fixing business and surely the courts aren't going to be that attracted to a self-confessed crooked jockey?'

Amy looked genuinely worried. 'I'm afraid you could be right. What's more, if that found its way to the Jockey Club you'd lose your licence and in the present climate might even end up on a conspiracy to defraud charge. I'm sorry I'm not being very helpful.'

'It's not your fault. I didn't expect any miracle solution. What about divorce? Would my position be any different?'

'It could be if you were the complaining party. These days, though, they go in for the consent approach, trying not to talk about blame.'

'There's no way Edward would ever consent. What about unreasonable behaviour?'

'You mean other than the race fixing? You'll have to keep a record from now on every time he hits you and any other disagreeable piece of conduct. Do you still sleep together?'

'He insists on it. Sexual relations, as they say, are virtually non-existent although he hates the idea of anybody else touching me.'

'And have they?'

'Do I have to answer that one?'

She gave me a quizzical look and continued. 'Well, tell me when you feel ready. You see, the courts aren't too keen to find irretrievable breakdown when the husband and wife are still cohabiting. They do sometimes, but it's pretty unusual.'

'So in a nutshell, my position is hopeless.'

'You make me feel terrible. I'm sorry, I just wish you had told me about this earlier. I could see you weren't happy but I didn't want to pry or do the 'I told you so' bit.'

'You're the last person I can blame. To be honest, it's an even bigger mess than it seems. Do you mind if I keep in touch? It helps so much, being able to tell someone.'

'You must tell me,' said Amy firmly. 'And something may just turn up.'

'And I thought an optimistic lawyer was a contradiction in terms! Aren't you meant to be back at work? You said something about a meeting at twelve-thirty.'

Amy glanced at her watch and rose to leave. I kissed her, paid the bill and hurried back by taxi to Paddington. All I wanted to do now was see my little boy.

Chapter 3

I arrived back in the early afternoon and gave Mrs Parsons the rest of the day off. During the National Hunt season, I didn't have a lot of opportunities to play with Freddie and I wanted to make the most of having his undivided attention. We were playing hide and seek when he discovered the diary. He had hidden in his father's huge mahogany wardrobe which, apart from the bed, took up most of the spare room. Edward usually kept it locked, but for some reason had forgotten to take away the key when he had gone out at lunchtime. Freddie handed me the diary as if he had discovered the crown jewels.

'Do you think it's special? Will daddy be pleased with me?'

'Let mummy have a look at it, and then we'll decide.' I gave him some toys to play with and, curiosity getting the better of me, sat down beside the fire and went through it. It was a small, well-worn pocket diary in black leather with Edward's initials embossed on it in gold. It was five years old and to my disappointment the calendar entries merely recorded his appointments or lunch dates and contained no chronicle of his innermost thoughts. I had hoped that I was going to learn something new about my husband.

I flicked through to the back and to the pages intended for addresses and telephone numbers. No names were listed, only sets of initials and against each a figure. Some of the initials had been crossed out and the different coloured inks suggested that the list had been added to and amended over the years. I wondered whether it stood for his investments on the Stock Market or even the bookies to whom he was indebted and decided to make my own list to try and decipher the code when I had more time. I was just going to fetch a pen and paper when Edward returned. It was obvious from his unsteady gait that he had been drinking and I thought I noticed his right hand shaking as he tried to hang up his coat. He kissed Freddie and, ignoring me, moved uncertainly towards the stairs. I decided to go on the attack: 'You had a phone call last night. Some man who wouldn't give his name. He just said that my victory had upset a lot of people. Your bookie, I presume?'

Edward went visibly grey. 'What did he sound like?'

'There was nothing particularly distinctive about his voice. Very flat and matter-of-fact. I didn't get the