Harold met me outside the weighing

Harold met me outside the weighing room at Sandown on Saturday
'You look better. Have you seen the doctor?'
'He signed my card.'
'Victor's here,' Harold said. 'He doesn't want to talk to you here. He's coming to Lambourn on Monday and he'll talk to you then. And, Philip, be careful what you say.'
'Mmm,' I said. 'How about the horse today? Is Coral Key running to win?'
'Victor said nothing.'
'Then I'm riding to win.'
Steve Millace was in the weighing room. He was annoyed because he had ridden in last. But his mother was much better.
Lord White was outside. He looked at me quickly and then looked away. He would never be comfortable with me.
Victor Briggs was waiting with the horse. Coral Key was a good horse, a young horse who could run well. Victor said noting. He watched me and kept his mouth shut.
The race began. Coral Key started well. He jumped the


first two fences, then up the hill, round the top bend. Then downhill,to the next seven fences. We were in second place them, but Coral Key began to tire as we ran up the hill-and the other horse won.
Harold said, 'He ran well.'
Victor Briggs said nothing.
I won my second race, but the horse didn't belong to Victor.
'Good race!' the owner said. 'You rode well!'
Victor Briggs watched, and said noting.
Clare and I went to see Jeremy. He was lying, Thinner than ever, his face grey, in a hospital bed.
'I'm sorry,' I said. 'It was my fault.'
'Don't forget I was there because I wanted to be.' He looked carefully at me. 'You face looks OK. you got better fast.'
'How long will you be in here?'
'Three or four days. I'm breathing much better. That gs was so quick. I had no time to do anything.'
We were silent.
Clare said, 'A gas like that would kill somebody immediately-if they were alone in the house.'
On Sunday, I went to Lambourn. My house was cold and it no longer felt like home. The person who had lived there was going away. I was changing.
I put several photographs of different people on the table in the kitchen and then I asked my neighbour Mrs Jackson to come in and look at them.
'What am I looking for, Me Nore?'
'Anyone you've seen be fore.'
She studied them carefully, one by one, and stopped at one face. 'How extraordinary!' she said. 'That's the man from the water company, the one who came here.'
'Are you sure?'
She didn't hesitate. 'Absolutely. He was wearing the same hat, too.'
I gave her a pen. 'Please write on the back for me, Mrs Jackson, and sign you name.'
'Are you giving this to the police?' she asked. 'I don't want them round again, really. Will they come back again, with their questions?'
'I don't think so.'
Victor Briggs came in his Mercedes on Monday. He told me to get in the car and he drove up into the hills. He parked and turned off the engine.
'Do you know what I'm going to say?' I asked.
'I hear thing,' he said. 'I heard about den Relgan. I heard that you got him out of the Jockey Club faster than he got in. I heard that he beat you.'
He watched my surprise.
'George Millace sent you a letter,' I said quietly.
He moved in his seat. 'How long have you had it?'
'Three weeks.'


'You can't use it. You'd be in trouble yourself.'
'How did you know that I had it?' I asked.
He said slowly, 'I heard that you had George Millace's
papers, from Ivor. And Dana. Separately. Ivor said that you were worse than George.'
I thought about the letter.
Dear Victor
You will be interested in some informatin which I have about five of your horses. All five horses were ridden by Philip Nore. They were favourites but they didn't win their races. And you made a lot of money.
The Jockey Club would be interested in this information.
I will ring you soon, however, with another idea.
Yours sincerely
George Millace
The letter had been sent three years ago. For three years, Victor Briggs had allowed his horses to win. When George Millace died, Victor Briggs went back to the old game.
'I didn't want to do anything about the letter,' I said.
Victor stared at me. 'Yesterday I added up my money,' he said. 'I've made more money since you began to ride honest races, than I made when you lost races on my orders. I know that you've changed. You're a different person. Older. Stronger. I won't ask you again to lose a race.'


He stopped. 'Is that enough? Is that what you want to hear?'
I looked away, across the windy hills. 'Yes.'
We were silent. After a while, Victor said, 'George Millace didn't ask for money, you know. At least...'
'The Injured Jockeys Fund?'
'You know everything, don't you?'
'I've learned.'
Victor drove away and I walked back over the hills to Lambourn. I thought about the past weeks. I thought about Samantha and Clare, about Jeremy. People I cared about. I looked down at Lambourn. I saw Harold's house and stables, the row of houses with mine in the centre. It had been my home for seven years. But now I was ready to leave.
I would race, I thought, until the end of the season. Five or six more months. Then, in may or June, when Summer came, I would put away my boots and stop racing.
I was ready to move on ,Tolive in another house. To marry Clare...I would be a photographer.
I went on down the hill.