Dick Francis - Under Orders

I called out again. ‘Bill, Kate, it’s Sid, Sid Halley.’

No reply. The labrador stood up, came and sniffed around my legs, then returned to lie down again on its bed.

I went through into the hallway and then into the den, a small sitting room where I knew Bill spent many an afternoon watching the racing on the television.

He was there, lying on a leather sofa. He was fast asleep.

I shook him gently and he sat up.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Didn’t sleep too well last night.’ He struggled to his feet. ‘Fancy a coffee?’

‘Love one,’ I replied.

We went into the kitchen and he put the kettle on the Aga. There were no mugs left in the cupboard so he took a couple from the dirty stack in the sink, rinsed them briefly under the tap, and measured instant granules into them with a dirty teaspoon.

‘Sorry,’ he said again. ‘Kate’s not here. Left with the children on Friday morning.’

‘How long will she be away?’ I asked.

‘Don’t rightly know.’ He sighed. ‘We had a row… another row, but this was a big one. This time, maybe, she won’t be coming back.’

‘Where’s she gone?’ I said.

‘Not sure. To her mother’s I expect, or her sister’s.’

The kettle started to boil and clouds of steam appeared above the spout. He didn’t seem to notice. I stepped round Bill and took the kettle off the heat, closing the lid on the Aga. I poured the boiling liquid into the mugs.

‘Haven’t you tried to call her?’ I asked. I sniffed the milk. It was off.

‘I did call her mother’s number,’ he replied. ‘I’ve never got on with my mother-in-law and she predictably put the phone down on me. I haven’t bothered to try again. Kate knows where I am if she wants me.’

I put a steaming mug down beside him on the kitchen table. ‘It’ll have to be black, the milk’s off,’ I said, taking my mug and sitting down on a kitchen chair.

‘Oh, there’s more in the fridge,’ he said but made no move to get it. He just sat down with another sigh.

‘It hasn’t been very good for a while, not since Alice was born, that’s my youngest. Three she is now.’ He paused briefly and smiled. ‘We’ve been married twelve years. Bloody marvellous it was at first. I was the envy of the jockeys’ room.’

I remembered. We had all fancied Kate who was the elder daughter of the successful trainer for whom Bill rode. We had all thought it had been strictly ‘hands off’ if he wanted to continue riding for her dad, so it had been a big surprise when Bill, twenty-eight at the time, had announced one day that he was going to marry Kate who was six years his junior. It had been the wedding of the year in Lambourn.

‘We were so in love,’ he went on, ‘and I was proud as proud could be of my beautiful wife. We both wanted masses of children and she got pregnant as soon as we tried. She came off the pill on our honeymoon and “bingo” first bloody time.’

I knew — I’d heard this story numerous times before.

‘That was young William. Then there was James and Michael, and finally we had Alice. Always wanted a girl.’ He smiled broadly at the thought of his lovely little daughter.

‘But since then, things have been going wrong,’ he said. ‘When I was riding it was easy. I went to the races, rode what the guv’nor told me to, and came home again. Or ended up in hospital. You know. Never had to bring work home. Easy.’

I remembered that, too. I agreed with him. It was easy if you were one of the top jockeys with plenty of rides, and plenty of money, as we both had been.

‘This training lark is much tougher. Always kowtowing to the bloody owners. You try telling them that their horses are useless and only good for the knackers without upsetting them to the point of them taking my advice and having the bloody things put down. Then where would I be? No bloody horses and no training fees.’ He stopped to take a gulp of his coffee, made a face and fetched the fresh milk from the fridge.

‘Then there are the entries, the orders and the staff.’ He sat down again, leaving a second opened milk carton on the table. ‘You wouldn’t believe how unreliable staff can be. They just pack up and leave whenever they feel like it, usually immediately after pay-day. Someone offers them a job with a bit more money and they’re off. I had one lad last week told me he was leaving while we were in the paddock at the races. There and then. After the race he was gone. Didn’t even turn up to take the horse back to the racecourse stables. I tell you, staff drive you nuts.’

He took another drink of coffee.

‘Anyway, what with all the problems and the lack of money compared to when I was riding, Kate and I started to row. Usually it was about nothing, or something so small I can’t even remember now. We would laugh about how silly we were and then go to bed and make it up. But recently things have been worse.’ He stopped and looked at me. ‘Why am I telling you all this?’

‘You don’t have to,’ I replied. ‘But carry on if it makes you feel better. I won’t tell anyone.’ Especially not Chris Beecher.

‘I’ve heard that you can keep a secret,’ he said, looking at my false hand. Far too many people, I thought, had heard that story.

‘It all came to a head on Thursday night.’ He seemed relieved to be able to tell someone. ‘For some time now Kate has been coming to bed late, really late, one or two in the morning. Well, I have to be up at five thirty for the horses so I’m usually in bed by ten, ten thirty at the latest.’

He finished his coffee.

‘Well, that doesn’t do much for your love life, I can tell you. If I tried to wake up when she came to bed, she would shy away from me. It was as if she didn’t want me even to touch her. So about ten o’clock on Thursday I said to her that I wanted her to come to bed now. She said something about wanting to watch some programme on the telly. So I said to her, “Why are you so frigid these days? You used to love sex. Is there anything wrong?”’

He paused and looked out of the window. The memory obviously hurt.

‘I thought she might have a medical problem or something. I only wanted her to get back to the old ways. Then she said something I’ll never forget.’ He stopped and I sat and waited as his eyes filled with tears and he fought them back by swallowing hard a couple of times.

‘She said that Huw Walker didn’t think she was frigid.’

‘Oh.’

‘I thought she must be joking.’ he said, ‘but she started to goad me. Said that he was a much better lover than me and that he knew how to satisfy a woman. I still didn’t believe it so I went to bed. But I couldn’t sleep. She never did come to bed that night. She packed some things for her and the children and left while I was out with the first lot. I came back to find the house empty.’

He stood up and leant against the sink, looking out at the stables beyond.

‘It isn’t the first time she’s left,’ he went on. ‘Third time since Christmas but before it was only for one night each time. I wish she’d come home.’

He stopped and began to cry.

‘Is that why you were so angry with Huw on Friday?’ I asked, hoping he would continue talking.

He turned round and wiped his eyes with his shirt sleeve. ‘I tried to be as normal as possible, so I went to the races — it was Cheltenham, after all. I hoped Kate would come home while I was out. And I still didn’t really believe her about Huw Walker. I thought she had just said it to upset me.’

‘What changed your mind?’ I asked quietly.

‘I was about to give him a leg-up on to Candlestick in the first when he turned to me and said, “Kate called me. Sorry, mate.” I was stunned. I just stood there unable to feel my legs. Juliet, you know, Juliet Burns my assistant, she had to do everything. I stood in the paddock for the whole race.’ He laughed sardonically. ‘My first winner at the Festival and I never saw it.’ His laughter died. ‘I was still there when Candlestick returned to the winner’s enclosure. I hadn’t moved an inch. Juliet came and fetched me. Sort of woke me up. Then I lost it. God, I was so mad with that bastard! I could have killed him.’