John Francome - Declared Dead

I watched the first race, which was won by an outsider who led all the way, changed and weighed out. Willie was waiting for me in the paddock grinning from ear to ear.

'There he is,' he said, pointing to Jimmy the One being led round by a ginger-haired lad. 'What a picture. Remember he's got speed and stays all day, so do what you like, my darling.'

The horse certainly looked superb. He wasn't exactly thin, yet there wasn't an ounce of fat on him either. He followed his lad around with an air of the utmost confidence, as though he could take on anyone. I began to think this might be my lucky day after all. The bell rang for the jockeys to mount and Willie legged me into the saddle. He just smiled benevolently and wished me luck and I couldn't believe he was so relaxed and confident. He was acting as if Jimmy the One had at least two stone in hand and the only interesting question was who would come second.

Once on the course, we hacked alongside the iron railings in front of the old stand and then cantered back to the two mile start on the far side of the course. Five minutes later, having had my girths adjusted, we were called in by the starter and I lined up on the outside. If Jimmy the One was the business, that was the position I wanted to go round.

For the first couple of fences I just felt my way, sitting about eighth of the ten runners and finding out how Jimmy liked to jump. In fact he was as near perfect as I could have hoped for, measuring the takeoff point for each fence to within the inch. I was beginning to enjoy myself, flying through the air at thirty miles per hour on the back of an animal who oozed confidence. Provided Brennan stayed out of my way, I was going to have an enjoyable race.

Everything went smoothly until we came to the regulation fence, or the ditch as we call it in England. Eamon had dropped back on his mount to race beside me on the inside and as we galloped towards the fence, matching strides like chariot horses, he deliberately bumped into me. This attempt to unbalance Jimmy and bring him to the ground failed miserably. Jimmy just changed legs and popped over as if nothing had happened. I now began to make up ground on the leaders and as we jumped the final fence on the far side there were only three horses ahead and I knew I could pick them off whenever I wanted. Feeling cocky, I decided that it was time to teach Brennan a little lesson.

As we rounded the far bend, I took a pull and let Brennan come almost upside me before cutting in sharply and jamming him against the plastic running rail. I could hear him shouting a stream of obscenities as his ankle bounced off the rough pieces of plastic where the rail was held by the uprights, I didn't bother to look round and instead coolly picked off the leaders going down the steep hill and pinged the last to win hard held.

The roar from the stand told me that Willie and his muckers had got their money on and for a few brief seconds I was the toast of Limerick. The cheers that greeted me in the winners' enclosure brought back memories of Cheltenham and Gold Cup day.

1 weighed in and changed. Willie couldn't understand why I wanted to leave the course straight away and seemed surprised when I asked him to escort me to my car.

'The bookies won't lynch you, you know. They're a friendly bunch here, even if you have taken thirty thousand out of the ring!'

I smiled, seeing no need to tell him that it was Eamon Brennan whom I really feared.

'My darling,' Willie put his arm around me paternally as I unlocked the car door. 'You were magnificent. Are you sure you won't come to the stables tonight for the party? It'll be one hell of a hooly.'

'I wish I could, Willie, but I've already accepted an invitation from friends in Kilmallock.'

'Bring them along too.'

'They're teetotal.'

'No problem, we've all been vaccinated against it!'

'No, it's just not possible, but thanks all the same. And thanks again for the ride.'

'The gratitude's all mine,' he replied, throwing what looked like a wad of Irish punts onto the back seat, 'and if you ever want a job over here just give us a call. Shaun will understand.'

I'm sure he will if he gets that well paid every time I ride a winner, I thought to myself.

Five minutes later and with no sign of Brennan I was on the road to Limerick town and the first step on the way to my rendezvous with the elusive Corcoran. I killed an hour or so walking round the town and by the time I arrived at Mrs Moloney's tea rooms it was fairly crowded. I was shown to a small table in the corner and a pretty, dark-haired waitress took my order.

Over on the other side of the room I could see Amy hiding behind a copy of The Irish Times, doing her best to appear inconspicuous. I had been told to wait at the tea shop for further instructions and that was just what I proposed to do. I wondered whether they would be delivered over the phone or by written message. I looked inquiringly at the middle-aged woman behind the till, whom I took to be Mrs Moloney by the way she shouted commands at the waitresses and asked the customers if they had enjoyed their tea. She smiled back and turned away. My pot of tea and two pieces of toast arrived. Twenty minutes later, having finished both, I was beginning to feel like a prize lemon and tried desperately to catch Amy's eye. I was sure she could see me, although she steadfastly refused to give any acknowledgement of my presence. Perhaps she thought Corcoran might be watching us, but unless he was under one of the tables, he was nowhere to be seen.

What, I wondered, if the whole thing was a practical joke and we were out here on a wild goose chase? At least I hadn't parted with any money; in fact, as a result of the race, I was another thousand-odd pounds better off. I looked over again at Amy and saw Mrs Moloney talking to her. Amy was shaking her head and for a brief second she lifted up her hand as if to indicate in my direction, but then just stopped herself in time. Mrs Moloney was carrying a letter in her hand and now walked over towards me.

'You're not Victoria Pryde, by any chance, are you?' she asked.

I nodded.

'Well that's good, because I've just asked that young lady over there and I was beginning to worry that there'd been some mistake. I've a letter here for you which I was asked to hand over at five o'clock on the dot. A friend of yours, perhaps?' She winked knowingly as she handed it over.

I just smiled, took it from her and waited until she was behind the till again before opening it. The instructions had been typed out: 'Leave here and drive out of Limerick in the direction of Tipperary. After half a mile, take a left turning signposted Kilconnell. Go through the village, and then take the third turning on the right signposted Tipperary. After two miles turn right at a crossroads and after another two miles you will come across a track on the left, leading to Milligan's Farm. Drive down the track, park in front of the farm and enter by the back door.'

I began to feel tense and uncomfortable. One thing Amy and I had omitted from our plans was how I was to pass on any further directions. She couldn't just walk out of the tearooms behind me, as Corcoran could be watching me for all we knew. My only course was to copy out the instructions and leave the original piece of paper behind where Amy was bound to find it. The waitress was hovering near my table waiting to clear up; by now there was only one other couple and Amy still having tea. In a voice loud enough for Amy to hear I asked the waitress where the lavatory was and then paid it a visit.

There was no obvious place to hide the letter other than in the cistern, which was black and peeling and could be reached only by standing on the seat. I climbed up, lifted the cover off and put the letter on the top of the ballcock. I just had to hope it wouldn't slip into the water. As I was about to open the door, it dawned on me that if I didn't pull the chain someone – I didn't stop to think who – might regard it as suspicious. I therefore recovered the letter, pulled the chain and then replaced it again inside the cistern. It was obvious I would make a lousy secret agent.