Дик Фрэнсис - Banker

Oliver himself had had four weeks by then in that house without Ginnie, but to me, on my first visit back, she seemed still most sharply alive. It was I, this time, who kept expecting her to walk into the room; to give me a hug, to say hello with her eyes crinkling with welcome. I felt her presence vividly, to an extent that to start with I listened to Dissdale with only surface attention.

‘It might be better to geld him,’ he was saying. ‘There are some good prizes, particularly overseas, for geldings.’

Oliver’s instinctive response of horror subsided droopingly to defeat.

‘It’s too soon,’ I said, ‘to talk of that.’

‘Tim, face facts,’ Dissdale said expansively. ‘At this moment in time that horse is a walking bomb. I’m making an offer for him because I’m a bit of a gambler, you know that, and I’ve a soft spot for him, whatever his faults, because of him winning so much for me that day the year before last, when we were all in my box at Ascot. You remember that, don’t you?’

‘I do indeed.’

‘He saved my life, Sandcastle did.’

‘It was partly because of that day,’ I said, nodding, ‘That Ekaterin’s lent the money for him. When the request came in from Oliver, it was because Henry Shipton — our chairman, if you remember — and Gordon and I had all seen the horse in action that we seriously considered the proposition.’

Dissdale nodded his comprehension. ‘A great surprise, though,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry it’s you and Gordon. Sorry it’s your bank, I mean, that’s been hit so hard. I read about the deformed foals in the papers, of course, and that’s what gave me the idea of buying Sandcastle in the first place, but it didn’t say which bank...’

I wondered fleetingly if Alec could claim that omission as a virtue along with everything else.

Oliver offered Dissdale more coffee which he accepted with cream and sugar, drinking almost absentmindedly while he worked through the possible alterations he would need in approach now he’d found he was dealing with semi-friends.

Having had time myself over several days to do it, I could guess at the speed he was needing for reassessment.

‘Dissdale,’ I said neutrally, deciding to disrupt him, ‘Did the idea of buying Sandcastle come from your profitable caper with Indian Silk?’

His rounded features fell again into shock. ‘How... er... did you know about that?’

I said vaguely, ‘Heard it on the racecourse, I suppose. But didn’t you buy Indian Silk for a pittance because he seemed to be dying, and then sent him to Calder?’

‘Well...’

‘And didn’t Calder cure him? And then you sold him again, but well this time, no doubt needing the money, as don’t we all, since when Indian Silk’s won the Cheltenham Gold Cup? Isn’t that right?’

Dissdale raised a plump hand palm upwards in a gesture of mock defeat. ‘Don’t know where you heard it, but yes, there’s no secret, that’s what happened.’

‘Mm.’ I smiled at him benignly. ‘Calder said on television, didn’t he, that buying Indian Silk was his idea originally, so I wondered... I’m wondering if this is his idea too. I mean, did he by any chance suggest a repeat of the gamble that came off so happily last time?’

Dissdale looked at me doubtfully.

‘There’s nothing wrong in it,’ I said. ‘Is it Calder’s idea?’

‘Well, yes,’ he said, deciding to confide. ‘But it’s my money, of course.’

‘And, um, if you do buy Sandcastle, will you send him too along to Calder, like Indian Silk?’

Dissdale seemed not to know whether to answer or not, but appearing to be reassured by my friendly interest said finally, ‘Calder said he could give him a quick pepping-up to get him fit quickly for racing, yes.’

Oliver, having listened restlessly up to this point, said, ‘Calder Jackson can’t do anything for Sandcastle that I can’t.’

Both Dissdale and I looked at Oliver in the same way, hearing the orthodox view ringing out with conviction and knowing that it was very likely untrue.

‘I’ve been thinking these past few days,’ I said to Dissdale, ‘First about Indian Silk. Didn’t you tell Fred Barnet, when you offered him a rock-bottom price, that all you were doing was providing a dying horse with a nice quiet end in some gentle field?’

‘Well, Tim,’ he said knowingly. ‘You know how it is. You buy for the best price you can. Fred Barnet, I know he goes round grousing that I cheated him, but I didn’t, he could have sent his horse to Calder the same as I did.’

I nodded. ‘So now, be honest, Dissdale, are you planning again to buy for the best price you can? I mean, does twenty-five thousand pounds for Sandcastle represent the same sort of bargain?’

‘Tim,’ Dissdale said, half affronted, half in sorrow, ‘What a naughty suspicious mind. That’s not friendly, not at all.’

I smiled. ‘I don’t think I’d be wise, though, do you, to recommend to my board of directors that we should accept your offer without thinking it over very carefully?’

For the first time there was a shade of dismay in the chubby face. ‘Tim, it’s a fair offer, anyone will tell you.’

‘I think my board may invite other bids,’ I said. ‘If Sandcastle is to be sold, we must recoup the most we can.’

The dismay faded: man-of-the-world returned. ‘That’s fair,’ he said. ‘As long as you’ll come back to me, if anyone tops me.’

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘An auction, by telephone. When we’re ready, I’ll let you know.’

With a touch of anxiety he said, ‘Don’t wait too long. Time’s money, you know.’

‘I’ll put your offer to the board tomorrow.’

He made a show of bluff contentment, but the anxiety was still there underneath. Oliver took the empty coffee cup which Dissdale still held and asked if he would like to see the horse he wanted to buy.

‘But isn’t he in Newmarket?’ Dissdale said, again looking disconcerted.

‘No, he’s here. Came back yesterday.’

‘Oh. Then yes, of course, yes, I’d like to see him.’

He’s out of his depth, I thought abruptly: for some reason Dissdale is very very unsettled.

We went on the old familiar walk through the yards, with Oliver explaining the lay-out to the new visitor. To me there was now a visible thinning out of numbers, and Oliver, with hardly a quiver in his voice, said that he was sending the mares home with their foals in an orderly progression as usual, with in consequence lower feed bills, fewer lads to pay wages to, smaller expenses all round: he would play fair with the bank, he said, matter-of-factly, making sure to charge what he could and also to conserve what he could towards his debt. Dissdale gave him a glance of amused incredulity as if such a sense of honour belonged to a bygone age, and we came in the end to the stallion yard, where the four heads appeared in curiosity.

The stay in Newmarket hadn’t done Sandcastle much good, I thought. He looked tired and dull, barely arching his neck to lift his nose over the half-door, and it was he, of the four, who turned away first and retreated into the gloom of his box.

‘Is that Sandcastle?’ Dissdale said, sounding disappointed. ‘I expected something more, somehow.’

‘He’s had a taxing three weeks,’ Oliver said. ‘All he needs is some good food and fresh air.’

‘And Calder’s touch,’ Dissdale said with conviction. ‘That magic touch most of all.’

When Dissdale had driven away Oliver asked me what I thought, and I said, ‘If Dissdale’s offering twenty-five thousand he’s certainly reckoning to make much more than that. He’s right, he is a gambler, and I’ll bet he has some scheme in mind. What we need to do is guess what the scheme is, and decide what we’ll do on that basis, such as doubling or trebling the ante.’