Warned Off by Joe Mcnally, Richard Pitman Read Free Book Online Page B

booked to ride two today and one
tomorrow but his trainer told me he wouldn’t be riding for the rest of the
meeting.’
    ‘Roscoe?’
    ‘That’s right.’
    ‘Did he say why?’
    ‘Said he had a bad case of flu.’
    Bad case of a hangover, I thought, ‘When
did he tell you?’
    ‘About an hour before the first.’
    ‘Did he say who’d be replacing him?’
    ‘Young Phil Greene. The poor bugger just
got buried in the last.’
    ‘I know. He’s all right. I’ve spoken to
the doctor.’
    He nodded. ‘Didn’t look too good for the
horse though,’ he said.
    ‘No, he’s been put down.’
    He frowned and shook his head slowly.
    ‘I don’t suppose you know any of the
vets?’ I asked.
    ‘Yeah, most of them.’ He pulled a box of
small cigars from his coat pocket.
    ‘Skinner isn’t back on the Jockey Club
payroll, is he?’
    ‘You kidding, with his reputation?’
    ‘I know, but he was out there with the
vet when he put Craven King down.’
    ‘I heard he works for Roscoe now.’
    ‘Skinner does?’
    ‘Yeah, private vet to the stable so they
say. If Roscoe’s got any brains he’ll be watching what Skinner jabs those
horses with.’
    I smiled. Many a true word…
    ‘Smoke?’ he offered.
    ‘No, thanks.’
    ‘My only vice.’ He smiled, lighting one.
    ‘You’re lucky. Listen, is Greene
Roscoe’s usual standby?’
    ‘Not really. I’ve noticed he’s been
riding one or two in the last few weeks for him but before that Roscoe’s used
anyone who was available.’
    His mobile phone rang. I slapped his
shoulder lightly. ‘Thanks a lot, you’ve been very helpful.’
    He smiled, ‘Anytime, Eddie, any time.’
    I thought about going to the trainer’s
bar and asking Roscoe how my pal Alan was but I decided against it in case
Roscoe was smarter than he looked. A phone call to Harle’s hotel might pay
better dividends. The pleasant voice of the receptionist answered on the second
ring.
    ‘Can you put me through to Mr Alan
Harle’s room, please?’
    ‘Do you know the room number, sir?’
    ‘I’m sorry, I don’t.’
    ‘Hold on please.’
    I held on.
    ‘Hello, sir, I’m afraid Mr Harle left
this morning.’
    ‘When do you expect him back?’
    ‘We don’t sir.’
    I hesitated. ‘Did you see him leave?’ I
realised as soon as I asked that it was a strange question from her point of
view. She was non-committal. ‘I didn’t start till two o’clock, sir.’
    ‘Of course. Did he pay his bill?’
    ‘I’m sorry, sir, we’re not allowed to
answer questions like that about guests.’
    ‘I understand. Thanks for your help.’
    I hung up and headed for the paddock.
    Standing around by the weighing room I
waited for a homeward bound jockey. The race in progress on the other side of
the stands had most people’s attention.
    A figure came through the glass doors
and started across the lawn. My height, my age, dark hair still wet from the
shower. Falling into step beside him as he passed I said, ‘Hello, John.’
    He glanced across at me but kept going.
He walked pretty fast. ‘Hello, Eddie. Heard you were back.’
    Jockeys are a strange breed. When you’re
one of them it’s like being a member of some elite regiment in which your
colleagues will do almost anything for you. It’s a profession in which you put
your life on the line every time you pull on a set of silks. Your next ride
could be your last and everyone knows it; but no one discusses it. In a company
of men who are all taking the same risks there is a lot of comfort and
camaraderie.
    But as soon as you’re outside that
circle, unless through injury, you become a stranger again, a man in the
street, a passer-by. It is nothing intentional or preconceived, it’s just the
way it is. The way I’d known it would be. But it still hurt.
    I didn’t feel like spouting any small
talk and I knew John wouldn’t care to listen to any. Quickening my pace to
match his I asked, ‘Where’s Alan Harle staying now, is he still in Trowbridge?’
    ‘As