Taking the Fall Read Free Page A

something unearthly and magical about the jockeys. He got up as close as he could to them and studied them. Some were tight-lipped before a race, and some would be wisecracking and all smiles. But Duncan knew it was the same thing. It was the tension. The excitement. They glowed with it.
    And when he stood with his dad roaring them in near the whitewashed rail at the home stretch, there was something beyond beautiful in the growing rumble of the approaching riders. There was a moment when the silks flashed past, when the hooves thundered on the turf and the jockeys and their mounts seemed to be locked into position. If he could have frozen the world in time it would have been at that moment. It was perfection. It was life itself.
    This was the obsession. Not so much with gambling, though that was part of it, but with the racing. He wanted in. He wanted to be bathed in that glowing thing.
    He told his dad he wanted to start saving and would put his thirty-five pounds towards his own pony.
    His dad laughed and tipped his trilby back on his head. ‘Well, you’re about the right size and weight,’ he said, ‘so long as you don’t grow too much over the years. So long as you keep your weight down.’
    ‘What is it?’ Lorna said.
    ‘It’s no good. I need to pee. I’m going to have to pull over.’
    ‘Can’t you wait till the next services?’
    ‘It’s a desperate situation. I’ve got to go.’ The pills didn’t take any argument. He was already slowing down and indicating for the hard shoulder. He stopped the car, got out, went round and faced away from the motorway, and unzipped. The release of pressure was indescribable. His body sagged with relief. He stood there pissing heartily, in full view of passing traffic. He didn’t care. It seemed to go on. And on. He looked at his watch. He was still pissing when he sensed another car cruising along the hard shoulder to draw up behind the Lamborghini.
    The police officer was already getting out of his car. It made no difference.
    The officer walked towards him with slow, measured strides. ‘Not exactly discreet, is it?’ he said. ‘Not exactly discreet in a big yellow sports car, relieving yourself in full view on the Queen’s highway, is it?’
    Duncan finished the task in hand, vented a huge sigh and zippered himself up. He turned and offered the policeman a smile that went the full distance.
    ‘I mean,’ said the officer, ‘it’s all a bit of a circus, isn’t it?’
    ‘You’re right, officer. And I’m not going to try to argue my way out of this one. Let me say this: you fellows do a fine job. I’ve always said so. So I can’t complain when I’m found out myself, now can I? But in my own defence, I wouldn’t be standing here like this if there was any other way on this earth. Believe me, I wouldn’t. Now without taking anything away from you, or without trying to stop you from doing a proper job, will you give me permission to tell you how I came to be here, like this, on the Queen’s highway and all that?’
    The officer blinked very slowly. ‘Try me,’ he said.
    A few minutes later Duncan got back in the car, still smiling.
    ‘Did he book you?’ Lorna said.
    ‘Nope.’
    ‘What did you say to him?’
    ‘What did I say to him? He’s a racing fan. I gave him a winner.’
    ‘You did? Isn’t that a bribe?’
    Duncan toed the accelerator and got another big-cat squeal out of the engine before pulling on to the motorway. ‘Oh no. I just told him I was a jockey and that I was late for the two thirty at Doncaster and I was riding a mare called Trojan’s Trumpet and that it was guaranteed to at least get a place but that I needed to get there and that I was really sorry. That’s all I said.’
    ‘He went off pretty quick.’
    ‘Oh yes. He’s off now to find the nearest bookie.’
    She looked at Duncan with a mixture of admiration and disapproval. ‘How do you do it?’
    ‘How do I do what?’
    ‘That. People like you, doesn’t matter