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say pleased to meet you. Charmain tried it
from my side. ‘Eddie, this is my husband Howard Stoke.’
    I smiled my most pleasant smile. It
upset him.
    ‘Who invited you?’ The growl was still
level.
    ‘I’m a friend of Alan Harle’s.’
    ‘I could have guessed that,’ he said.
‘You jockeys all have the same dumb look.’ He smiled at his little taunt and
his eyes kept watching me from their four-inch height advantage. I drank.
    ‘Are you always so nice to new
acquaintances?’ I asked. He leaned forward and down. ‘You won’t ever be an
acquaintance of mine, son.’
    I feigned deep disappointment, shaking
my head. ‘And after we’d started on such friendly terms.’
    He leaned even closer. I could hear him
breathe in his nostrils. ‘And you won’t ever be an acquaintance of this lady
either, you randy little bastard!’ The grey in his eyes was darkening and I
felt like saying, I’ve got news for you, mate, but for Charmain’s sake I
didn’t.
    Charmain clutched his sleeve. ‘Howard,
please come and introduce me to some of your friends!’ He hesitated, glaring at
me for another five seconds, then he grabbed her arm and turned away. She
didn’t look at me as she followed him. I called after him, ‘Very nice meeting
you, Mr Stoke.’
    He turned and snarled, ‘Up yours.’
    ‘Likewise.’ I smiled. They went into the
throng and I watched his head bob away across the room as he dragged Charmain
behind him. Beauty and the beast. How the hell had she got tied up with him?
    Taking another glass of champagne I went
looking for Alan Harle. I saw him standing by the entrance and started making
my way across. When I was half a dozen steps away he opened the door and went
out. I followed him.

8
     
    Six
paces ahead and weaving unsteadily along the corridor Harle stopped and pushed
carelessly against a door. It swung back and he went in. I reached the door; Gentlemen ,
the sign said. I was one of those.
    The door of the middle cubicle was
closed. Harle was behind it. I stood by the sink nearest the drier and waited.
A minute went by. There had been no sound.
    The door opened and Harle, fiddling with
his jacket collar, took two paces out. He almost caught his breath in surprise
when he saw me and, turning back in, flushed the toilet. When he came out again
he looked completely calm and so pleased to see me you’d have thought I was his
dinner date.
    He walked right up to me and shook
hands. ‘Eddie! They told me you were back. Great news, eh? How’ve you been
doing?’
    I smiled back at him. He was small, even
for a jumps jockey, about five three, but he had what bodybuilders called good
symmetry though his face was far from symmetrical. He’d been a stable-lads
boxing champ in his younger days. Some said he was a hell of a lot better at
boxing than jockeying.
    He couldn’t have been that good because
his nose was spread a fair bit and had been for as long as I’d known him. His
face was chipped in one or two places from racing falls and a crescent-shaped
thick pink scar showed through his dark thinning hair.
    ‘I’ve been doing all right,’ I said,
‘but not riding Champion Hurdle winners.’
    ‘Magic, eh?’ he beamed. He was drunk but
looked lively.
    ‘Fantastic,’ I said, ‘but no more than
you deserve after all the dogs you’ve ridden in the past.’
    He turned to the mirror, still smiling,
and smoothly drew a comb from his back pocket. Only his head and shoulders
showed in the mirror as he combed his sparse hair. ‘Yeah, you can say that
again. And you won’t see me on no dogs in the future either, it’s going to be
all top quality stuff from here on in.’
    ‘Yes, I heard you’d landed a good
retainer with, eh, whaddyacall’im?’
    The comb still moved in useless sweeps.
‘Roscoe,’ he said, ‘Basil Roscoe.’
    ‘That’s right. I couldn’t remember the
name. He’s a newcomer, eh?’
    ‘After your time anyway, Eddie.’
    ‘Yes, I’ve been out of touch.’
    The comb stopped.