John Francome - Declared Dead

'I thought about a hundred pounds a month. That would be fair, wouldn't it?'

The telephone rang before I could make any further comment, and Edward walked across the sitting room to answer it. Whoever was on the other end of the line soon had him breaking into a sweat and the hitherto complacent tone in his voice rapidly gave way to one of panic.

'You know that's impossible!' he shouted. 'It's not' my fault she disobeyed her instructions.' He kept shaking his head as the caller dominated the conversation. 'Don't do that,' he pleaded, when at last given an opportunity to talk. 'Just give me time. I guarantee I'll come up with some of it and I can assure you she won't make the same mistake twice. That's all I need, one more chance.' The call ended abruptly and he was still shaking as he put the receiver down.

I wasted no time in making my position clear. 'If it's me you're referring to, it was no mistake that I won yesterday, and I have absolutely no intention of doing your dirty work again. From now on, you can sort out your own mess. I'm leaving you, Edward, and I'm taking Freddie with me.'

'And leave me at the mercy of these people? No, you silly bitch, you're not going anywhere! You're going to stay here and next time, when I tell you to lose, you'll do just that.'

His first blow caught me just above the eye and I fell backwards onto one of the armchairs by the fire.

'Now will you realise that I'm serious?'

The noise attracted Freddie, who came running down to the bottom of the stairs. I shouted at him to go and get help. The next thing I knew Edward had leapt on top of me and started to throttle me with both hands. The pain around my neck was excruciating and soon spread to behind my eyes as I fought with increasing panic for air. At least my left arm was still free and I felt desperately along the top of the coffee table for something to grab and hit him with. The maniacal look in his eyes left me in no doubt that he was mad enough to kill me. I had no desire to die and leave my son alone with this monster as a father. With one final lunge I managed to pick up the silver ashtray, a present from his mother, which was on the edge of the table. Lifting my left arm and mustering all my strength, I hit him repeatedly on the side of the temple. He ignored the blows and tightened his grip. By now my head felt as if it was about to explode and all I could see was a warm red glow like a harvest moon. I was done for.

Suddenly Edward groaned, his hands went limp and he slumped down like a dead weight on top of me. I looked over his shoulder to see Freddie standing there, crying, a bronze statuette of a horse and jockey in his right hand. The head of the horse was covered in blood. The boy was hysterical.

'Mummy, are you all right?' he sobbed.

With considerable effort, I managed to push Edward off me and onto the floor.

'Is daddy dead?' Freddie asked, shaking with fear.

I gazed down at the motionless figure slumped against the side of the sofa. He was still breathing, if in a somewhat laboured fashion, and I felt for his pulse. It was regular. Mild concussion, I reckoned, which would give us about twenty minutes to get out. I reassured Freddie that daddy would soon be all right and rushed him upstairs to help me pack a few things. Five minutes later, we were in my car heading I knew not where, but at least as far away from Edward Pryde as wheels could take us.

When I'd calmed down, I thought of driving straight over to Tom's but on reflection I decided against it. I couldn't trust his reaction to seeing us in this condition. Instead, two hours later, after driving aimlessly round the country, we pulled up at Ralph Elgar's yard in the Cotswolds.

I kept looking in the rear-view mirror expecting to see Edward's Jaguar, but there was no sign of it and as soon as I'd pulled up and stopped the engine, Freddie and I darted inside the house.

Ralph jumped up from his chair as we ran into the kitchen.

'Whatever's the matter?' he exclaimed.

I began crying as I blurted out what had just happened, including how Freddie had saved my life.

By the time I had finished and had drunk a cup of tea, I felt much better.

'So that's it. I just wondered if we could both stay here for a few days until I can get things sorted out.'

'You know that you're both welcome to stay as long as you want,' said Ralph. And then added, 'If I were you, I'd call the police.'

I disagreed. As Freddie and I were both all right, and I had finally had the courage to leave Edward, I decided to let the whole thing resolve itself on its own. Once the police knew, then the press would get to hear about it and the story would be on the racing page of every daily paper in the country.

Freddie was still in a state of shock, and repeatedly asked if his father would be all right. About an hour after I had put him to bed, he came back downstairs crying, saying that he had had a nightmare, and he spent the rest of the evening asleep in my arms.

'He'll be a long time forgetting what's gone on today,' said Ralph.

'I know, and he's going to miss having Edward around, but I certainly won't. My main worry is what will happen when Edward finally comes looking for

us. It may be that the battle's only just begun.'

During the next two weeks, much to my surprise, Edward made no attempt to contact me. I expected him to turn up at the races and accost me or try to follow me home. I couldn't believe he would give up Freddie that easily. When the boy kept asking me where his father was, I told him that Edward had fully recovered and had gone away on holiday. I thought it was the most likely explanation, although when I had telephoned Mrs Parsons on the Monday after the attack, to say that Freddie would be away for a short while, she told me that our bed had been slept in and there was no sign of any of Edward's clothes missing. We agreed that she would take a paid holiday until Freddie and I returned.

Not surprisingly, my riding began to suffer amidst the uncertainty of my position. I found it difficult to regain my usual enthusiasm and managed to get beaten at Stratford on a certainty trained by Tom Radcliffe. Coming to the last I was two lengths ahead of my flagging rival and had only to jump it clear to win. Instead of settling my horse down to take it comfortably in his stride, I gave him a kick in the belly and asked for a long one. The stride I'd seen was a lot longer than I thought and the horse brushed the top of the fence and pecked on landing. I fell off him like a bad seven pound claimer and had to walk back to the jockeys' room through a jeering crowd of irate punters.

Fortunately, Tom was sympathetic, but we both knew that I was to blame. On the way home he asked me about Edward. I hadn't told him about our fight or, for that matter, that I had walked out. I was still anxious not to involve him at this stage if I could help it, fearing what he might do if angered.

'Do you know that I saw your husband on the Saturday night after the Gold Cup?'

'No. Whose idea was that?'

'Mine. I know I promised not to get involved but I couldn't go on letting him behave like that towards you. He's a bully and there's only one thing that kind of person understands.'

'Where did you meet him?'

'I phoned him up on the Friday evening and asked him to come for a drink at the Crown and Anchor on the Marlborough Road. I thought I'd choose a pub where no one was likely to recognise either of us.'

'And so?'

'It all turned rather nasty. I won't bore you with the details. I must have drunk too much as I woke up in the early hours of the morning in the car park with a splitting headache.'

'Is that all that happened, Tom?' I asked anxiously, although fearing to probe too far.