jockeys, one tall girl with blond hair and very green eyes, the rest small and very slight. Binoculars were immediately focused on the transparent breeches which clung to the girls’ svelte figures in the heat.
Chrissie looked at them enviously.
‘Lazlo says if I lose two stone, he’ll buy me a racehorse,’ she said.
‘Which is Lazlo’s jockey?’ said Steve.
‘The prettiest one, of course,’ said Chrissie. ‘The tall one with green eyes.’
‘Do you think he’s banged her yet?’ said Rupert.
Angora’s eyes narrowed for a second, then she said lightly, ‘If he hasn’t, it won’t be long.’
The start was in a different place this time, but Bella was determined to place her bet with the same bookie on the other side of the track.
‘I’ll meet you in the members’ enclosure,’ she called to Rupert.
‘Bella, wait, you’ll get lost,’ he shouted after her.
She was returning across the course when, just as she reached the white railings, she realized she’d dropped her betting slip.
Turning, she saw it lying in the middle of the course. Without looking to left or right, she ran back to get it.
Suddenly there was a thundering in her ears and the ten runners had come out of a side gate and were galloping towards her down to the start.
Terrified, she stood frozen to the spot, then tried to run back to the rails, but it was too late; they were on top of her. She screamed. They must crush her to death. Then, miraculously, Lazlo’s black horse had swerved frantically to the right to avoid her, depositing his blond rider on the grass, and galloping off down to the start.
The next moment Lazlo was picking her up. She’d never seen him so blazing angry before.
‘What the fucking hell do you think you’re doing? Trying to sabotage my horse?’
‘What the hell are you doing, trying to kill me?’ jibbered Bella. ‘She was riding straight at me, no doubt at your instructions, and if it hadn’t been for that darling horse swerving out of the way, I’d be a dead duck now.’
‘Don’t be bloody fatuous,’ said Lazlo. ‘Get off the course.’
He went over to pick up the blonde, who had staggered to her feet, shocked but unhurt.
Baudelaire, having shed his rider, was now having a high old time. Black tail straight up in the air, reins trailing on the ground, he cantered round the course, using up valuable energy.
To the delight of the crowd, and the shredded nerves of Lazlo, the stable lad and his blond rider, he resolutely refused to be caught.
Rupert fought through the crowd to Bella’s side.
‘Darling, are you all right?’
‘Of course I am. I just dropped my betting slip and your dear cousin’s jockey rode straight at me.’
‘She couldn’t do much else,’ said Rupert. ‘They haven’t got very good brakes, these horses.’
‘He’s doing marvellously now,’ said Bella admiringly, watching Baudelaire scampering away from a couple of stewards and come cantering back down the course. ‘He’s got real star quality.’
‘He’s going to trip over the reins. They’ve got legs of glass, these horses,’ said Rupert in anguish.
At last, after ten minutes cavorting, Baudelaire got bored and came to a violent, slithering halt in front of Lazlo, uttered a long, rolling snort through flared nostrils, and started eating grass.
The blond girl was put up again. Rupert, Lazlo and Bella went back to the stands to watch the race.
‘Hasn’t got a hope in hell now,’ said Lazlo angrily.
They were off, and for Bella it was the same old rat race. Listening to the whisper of ‘Here they come, here they come’ growing into a great roar, not being able to recognize any of the horses in the shifting kaleidoscope of colours.
‘My God,’ said Rupert, ‘she’s going to do it.’
And suddenly the tall blonde, crouched over Baudelaire’s ears like a Valkyrie, by sheer force of personality and leg muscle, seemed to shake off the rest of the field and drive the black horse first past
Chrissie looked at them enviously.
‘Lazlo says if I lose two stone, he’ll buy me a racehorse,’ she said.
‘Which is Lazlo’s jockey?’ said Steve.
‘The prettiest one, of course,’ said Chrissie. ‘The tall one with green eyes.’
‘Do you think he’s banged her yet?’ said Rupert.
Angora’s eyes narrowed for a second, then she said lightly, ‘If he hasn’t, it won’t be long.’
The start was in a different place this time, but Bella was determined to place her bet with the same bookie on the other side of the track.
‘I’ll meet you in the members’ enclosure,’ she called to Rupert.
‘Bella, wait, you’ll get lost,’ he shouted after her.
She was returning across the course when, just as she reached the white railings, she realized she’d dropped her betting slip.
Turning, she saw it lying in the middle of the course. Without looking to left or right, she ran back to get it.
Suddenly there was a thundering in her ears and the ten runners had come out of a side gate and were galloping towards her down to the start.
Terrified, she stood frozen to the spot, then tried to run back to the rails, but it was too late; they were on top of her. She screamed. They must crush her to death. Then, miraculously, Lazlo’s black horse had swerved frantically to the right to avoid her, depositing his blond rider on the grass, and galloping off down to the start.
The next moment Lazlo was picking her up. She’d never seen him so blazing angry before.
‘What the fucking hell do you think you’re doing? Trying to sabotage my horse?’
‘What the hell are you doing, trying to kill me?’ jibbered Bella. ‘She was riding straight at me, no doubt at your instructions, and if it hadn’t been for that darling horse swerving out of the way, I’d be a dead duck now.’
‘Don’t be bloody fatuous,’ said Lazlo. ‘Get off the course.’
He went over to pick up the blonde, who had staggered to her feet, shocked but unhurt.
Baudelaire, having shed his rider, was now having a high old time. Black tail straight up in the air, reins trailing on the ground, he cantered round the course, using up valuable energy.
To the delight of the crowd, and the shredded nerves of Lazlo, the stable lad and his blond rider, he resolutely refused to be caught.
Rupert fought through the crowd to Bella’s side.
‘Darling, are you all right?’
‘Of course I am. I just dropped my betting slip and your dear cousin’s jockey rode straight at me.’
‘She couldn’t do much else,’ said Rupert. ‘They haven’t got very good brakes, these horses.’
‘He’s doing marvellously now,’ said Bella admiringly, watching Baudelaire scampering away from a couple of stewards and come cantering back down the course. ‘He’s got real star quality.’
‘He’s going to trip over the reins. They’ve got legs of glass, these horses,’ said Rupert in anguish.
At last, after ten minutes cavorting, Baudelaire got bored and came to a violent, slithering halt in front of Lazlo, uttered a long, rolling snort through flared nostrils, and started eating grass.
The blond girl was put up again. Rupert, Lazlo and Bella went back to the stands to watch the race.
‘Hasn’t got a hope in hell now,’ said Lazlo angrily.
They were off, and for Bella it was the same old rat race. Listening to the whisper of ‘Here they come, here they come’ growing into a great roar, not being able to recognize any of the horses in the shifting kaleidoscope of colours.
‘My God,’ said Rupert, ‘she’s going to do it.’
And suddenly the tall blonde, crouched over Baudelaire’s ears like a Valkyrie, by sheer force of personality and leg muscle, seemed to shake off the rest of the field and drive the black horse first past
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