Дик Фрэнсис - High Stakes

He had always economised on labour, reckoning that he and Felicity between them could do the work of four. His inexhaustible energy in fact ensured that no lads stayed in the yard very long as they couldn’t stand the pace. Since the last so-called head lad had left in dudgeon because Jody constantly usurped his authority, there had been no one but Jody himself in charge. It was unlikely, I thought, that in present circumstances he would have taken on another man, which meant that the cottage at the end of the yard would be empty.

There were at any rate no lights in it, and no anxious figure came scurrying out to see about the stranger in the night. I went with care to the first box in the first court and quietly slid back the bolts.

Inside stood a large chestnut mare languidly eating hay. She turned her face unexcitedly in the torchlight. A big white blaze down her forehead and nose. Asphodel.

I shut her door, inching home the bolts. Any sharp noise would carry clearly through the cold calm air and Jody’s subconscious ears would never sleep. The second box contained a heavy bay gelding with black points, the third a dark chestnut with one white sock. I went slowly round the first section of stables, shining the torch at each horse.

Instead of settling, my nerves got progressively worse. I had not yet found what I’d come for, and every passing minute made discovery more possible. I was careful with the torch. Careful with the bolts. My breath was shallow. I decided I’d make a rotten burglar.

Box number nine, in the next section, contained a dark brown gelding with no markings. The next box housed an undistinguished bay, the next another and the next another. After that came an almost black horse, with a slightly Arab looking nose, another very dark horse, and two more bays. The next three boxes all contained chestnuts, all unremarkable to my eyes. The last inhabited box held the only grey.

I gently shut the door of the grey and returned to the box of the chestnut next door. Went inside. Shone my torch over him carefully inch by inch.

I came to no special conclusion except that I didn’t know enough about horses.

I’d done all I could. Time to go home. Time for my heart to stop thudding at twice the speed of sound. I turned for the door.

Lights came on in a blaze. Startled I took one step towards the door. Only one.

Three men crowded into the opening.

Jody Leeds.

Ganser Mays.

Another man whom I didn’t know, whose appearance scarcely inspired joy and confidence. He was large, hard and muscular, and he wore thick leather gloves, a cloth cap pulled forward and, at two in the morning, sun glasses.

Whomever they had expected, it wasn’t me. Jody’s face held a mixture of consternation and anger, with the former winning by a mile.

‘What the bloody hell are you doing here?’ he said.

There was no possible answer.

‘He isn’t leaving,’ Ganser Mays said. The eyes behind the metal rims were narrowed with ill intent and the long nose protruded sharply like a dagger. The urbane manner which lulled the clients while he relieved them of their cash had turned into the naked viciousness of the threatened criminal. Too late to worry that I’d cast myself in the role of threat.

‘What?’ Jody turned his face to him, not understanding.

‘He isn’t leaving.’

Jody said ‘How are you going to stop him?’

Nobody told him. Nobody told me, either. I took two steps towards the exit and found out.

The large man said nothing at all, but it was he who moved. A large gloved fist crashed into my ribs at the business end of a highly efficient short jab. Breath left my lungs faster than nature intended and I had difficulty getting it back.

Beyond schoolboy scuffles I had never seriously had to defend myself. No time to learn. I slammed an elbow at Jody’s face, kicked Ganser Mays in the stomach and tried for the door.

Muscles in cap and sun glasses knew all that I didn’t. An inch or two taller, a stone or two heavier, and warmed to his task. I landed one respectable punch on the junction of his nose and mouth in return for a couple of bangs over the heart, and made no progress towards freedom.

Jody and Ganser Mays recovered from my first onslaught and clung to me like limpets, one on each arm. I staggered under their combined weight. Muscles measured his distance and flung his bunched hand at my jaw. I managed to move my head just in time and felt the leather glove burn my cheek. Then the other fist came round, faster and crossing, and hit me square. I fell reeling across the box, released suddenly by Ganser Mays and Jody, and my head smashed solidly into the iron bars of the manger.

Total instant unconsciousness was the result.

Death must be like that, I suppose.

Life came back in an incomprehensible blur.

I couldn’t see properly. Couldn’t focus. Heard strange noises. Couldn’t control my body, couldn’t move my legs, couldn’t lift my head. Tongue paralysed. Brain whirling. Everything disconnected and hazy.

‘Drunk,’ someone said distinctly.

The word made no sense. It wasn’t I who was drunk.

‘Paralytic.’

The ground was wet. Shining. Dazzled my eyes. I was sitting on it. Slumped on it, leaning against something hard. I shut my eyes against the drizzle and that made the whirling worse. I could feel myself falling. Banged my head. Cheek in the wet. Nose in the wet. Lying on the hard wet ground. There was a noise like rain.

‘Bloody amazing,’ said a voice.

‘Come on, then, let’s be having you.’

Strong hands slid under my armpits and grasped my ankles. I couldn’t struggle. Couldn’t understand where I was or what was happening.

It seemed vaguely that I was in the back of a car. I could smell the upholstery. My nose was on it. Someone was breathing very loudly. Almost snoring. Someone spoke. A jumbled mixture of sounds that made no words. It couldn’t have been me. Couldn’t have been.

The car jerked to a sudden stop. The driver swore. I rolled off the seat and passed out.

Next thing, bright lights and people carrying me as before.

I tried to say something. It came out in a jumble. This time I knew the jumble came from my own mouth.

‘Waking up again,’ someone said.

‘Get him out of here before he’s sick.’

March, march. More carrying. Loud boots on echoing floors.

‘He’s bloody heavy.’

‘Bloody nuisance.’

The whirling went on. The whole building was spinning like a merry-go-round.

Merry-go-round .

The first feeling of identity came back. I wasn’t just a lump of weird disorientated sensations. Somewhere, deep inside, I was... somebody.

Merry-go-rounds swam in and out of consciousness. I found I was lying on a bed. Bright lights blinded me every time I tried to open my eyes. The voices went away.

Time passed.

I began to feel exceedingly ill. Heard someone moaning. Didn’t think it was me. After a while, I knew it was, which made it possible to stop.

Feet coming back. March march. Two pairs at least.

‘What’s your name?’

What was my name? Couldn’t remember.

‘He’s soaking wet.’

‘What do you expect? He was sitting on the pavement in the rain.’

‘Take his jacket off.’

They took my jacket off, sitting me up to do it. I lay down again. My trousers were pulled off and someone put a blanket over me.

‘He’s dead drunk.’

‘Yes. Have to make sure though. They’re always an infernal nuisance like this. You simply can’t risk that they haven’t bumped their skulls and got a hairline fracture. You don’t want them dying on you in the night.’

I tried to tell him I wasn’t drunk. Hairline fracture... Christ... I didn’t want to wake up dead in the morning.