Now he'd got the horse thinking about running and jumping, instead of beating up his fellow competitors, the animal was moving smoothly. Or maybe Psycho Sierra simply wanted to catch up with the other horses so he could take his bad temper out on them.
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Whatever the reason, the horse was employing his massive strength in a steady gallop. By the end of the outward straight - the big end of the pear -
they had caught up and passed half the field. When Sierra decided to apply himself, be could certainly shift.
The horse sailed over the open ditch on the shallow curve of the bottom end and pinged the first fence leading into the home straight. He was eating up the other runners as fast as he was devouring the ground.
Suddenly, Jamie found himself assessing his position in the race. There were five horses ahead of them and four fences to go. They took the next couple with powerful leaps, leaving two more of their rivals in their wake.
The three leading horses were a few lengths ahead, racing almost abreast.
Jamie kept his mount wide on the stand side, praying he could keep up this remarkable display for another couple of furlongs. If they could just nose out one other runner they'd be in the places and that would be something.
But the three ahead weren't giving up and Sierra made little impression.
Jamie gave the horse a smack with his stick as they approached the second to last and felt him respond. He saw the nearest horse clout the top of the fence just before Sierra took off. The other horse faltered and they were past him in a blur of wind and mud. Third - fantastic!
They were level with the second horse going into the last fence. Jamie looked to his left and saw his rider giving everything he'd got. It didn't seem to be doing much good; the animal was operating on autopilot.
Sierra was also tiring, Jamie could sense it. They only scraped over the last fence. For a moment, as his horse stumbled, he thought they were about to fall but he yanked Sierra's nose up just before it kissed the turf and the animal stayed on his feet. That was their chance gone, though.
They finished six lengths behind the winner in second place.
Irene was delighted. Ì say, how marvellous!' she crowed. Ì knew he had the ability but it's not easy to get the best out of him. You two got on like a house on fire.'
Jamie made a noncommittal noise and grinned; he didn't want to spoil the party atmosphere.
`You're a marriage made in heaven!' the big woman continued. `You will ride him next time, won't you?'
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Five minutes earlier, Jamie's first instinct would have been to say no, loudly and forcefully. But a ride was a ride - was he in any position to be choosy at this stage of his new career? And, to be fair, once he'd got going the horse had done nothing wrong. If he was to get to the top of this jumping game, Jamie knew he'd have to ride all sorts of animals, not just the good ones.
Ì'll look forward to it,' he said.
`Bloody well done on Psycho, mate,' said Ferdy's travelling head lad, Padraig, as the horse box turned onto the A1. Ì'd have had a couple of quid on him if I'd known.'
`Known what?'
`That you were going to ride him. I found out too late.'
`Really?' Jamie was chuffed. If knowledgeable lads like Padraig were beginning to rate him, then he must be doing something right. The journey back passed quickly. After just under an hour and a half they turned into the Ridgemoor Valley, past the familiar landmark of the Lord Nelson public house. A shadow fell over Jamie's good spirits as its Victorian bulk loomed. He'd been down this road before. Jamie gunned the car into the pub car park and reversed it at speed into a spot by a battered Mondeo. It had been a hard but exhilarating hammer north from Ascot and the thought of a long drink had been tantalising him since he d got off the motorway at Leeds.
He flashed his new Rolex and turned to his passengers. `Two hours fifty-six,' he announced proudly. `Told you I could do it in under three.' `You drive like a maniac,' murmured Richard from the back seat. Jamie noted that he looked a bit green around the gills. Rich could be a wimp sometimes. A thirsty maniac,' he said. `You guys owe me a beer.'
Ì thought you were buying, maestro.’ Malcolm opened the passenger door. `You're the day's big winner.'
That was true enough. First past the post three times at Ascot, including a cracking performance in a quality race like the Diadem. A nice present stuffed in his back pocket from a top owner. And that didn't include the morning in bed with the owner's daughter. It was his day all right. And the way he was going there d be many more like it.
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Jamie ordered a pint of lager and the same for Malcolm. Rich asked for a slimline tonic. Jesus.
`Sure you don't want a proper drink? Go on, man, live dangerously.' Rich didn't laugh. He was being a bit of a misery this evening. Well, screw him.
`You know your problem, Rich? You're afraid to get stuck in. You had a gap in that last race and you hesitated, so you missed your chance.' Rich's face crumpled, like a kid who d dropped his ice cream, so Jamie knew he d hit a nerve.
Ìt's the same with women. You hang back and some other bugger's off the mark ahead of you.' Jamie turned to Malcolm. `Some other bugger like me.’ They both laughed.
'Seriously, mate,’ Jamie continued, 'you've got to stick up for yourself more. I reckon the best thing you could do'- he d been meaning to get this off his chest for a while and now seemed a good time - ìs jack in working for your old man.'
`What's that got to do with it?'
Ìt's not very impressive working for your daddy, is it? I mean, people will always wonder why you got the gig. I think you should go and sling your leg over some other trainer's horses. You know, just to prove you can.
What do you say, Mal? '
Jamie could tell that Malcolm was enjoying watching his brother squirm.
:Jamie might have a point, Richard,' he said. 7 bet Dad would be impressed if you made your way at another yard.'
Richard glared at him. `You can talk. You don't wipe your arse without his approval.'
Ì spent six years on my own in the Army, mate.'
And came running straight home when you ballsed up.'
Jamie was amused. Talk about light the blue touch paper and retire. `Now then, lads, you're spoiling my night.’ He pulled a £SO note from the bundle in his pocket and caught the barman's eye. Ì'm switching to vodka
- what about you?'
Richard declined, of course, but Malcolm opted for Scotch. Jamie cast his eye around for other likely recipients of his generosity. He had a good feeling about tonight.
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There were some Ridgemoor stable staff in the far corner, lads and lasses who worked all hours for not much. When his drinks arrived Jamie handed the barman the banknote. `Stick this behind the bar, would you, Charlie?
Anything that lot over there wants is on me. And yourself, of course.'
Charlie grinned. 7'11 take a half, thanks.'
Jamie added a splash of Coke to his vodka - Diet Coke, of course, as he had to keep an eye on his weight. `Let me know when the cash runs out.
There's plenty more.'
`Been a good day, has it?'
`You could say - and it's just getting going.'
Richard had taken himself off to talk to some of the lads and Malcolm had been joined by one of the Ridgemoor stable girls, a blonde bubbly sort.
Jamie moved in swiftly, aware it was his brotherly duty to keep an eye on his sister's boyfriend. Not that it was any of his business what either of them got up to.
The rest of the Ridgemoor group joined them and congratulations rained down on Jamie, inspired by his Ascot exploits and the free drinks. He was the man of the moment and it felt damn good.
The vodka hit him after a quarter of an hour. He got up to go to the Gents and sat straight back down again. It was if he d been sandbagged behind the knees. Well, he had been living on the edge all day. By rights he ought to be spark out somewhere, recharging his batteries. Stuff that, though, he was having too good a time.
The trouble was, he had no more of his magic pills and what he needed right now was a pick-me-up. Booze was all very well but there was nothing like a chemical stimulant to keep a man's motor running. He looked around for assistance. This crowd wasn't cool enough or rich enough to be carrying what he needed. Their idea of a wild night out was getting blatted on Alco pops.
He looked around the bar and recognised a couple of girls at a table on the far side of the room. His luck was in - of course. He took it carefully crossing the room - he could do without an attack of the wobbles. His target was a woman in a scooped-out pink top with appliqued sequins and a leather skirt. He knew she was pretending not to see him.
`Hi, Cassie,' he said.
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She looked up in feigned surprise. Her companion, Helen, followed her glance and said, `You can get lost for a start.'
Jamie ignored the spotty bitch. Quite why Helen had it in for him he wasn't sure - it wasn't her he d dumped, after all.
`Can I have a word, Cassie?'
`No, you bloody can’t,’ said Helen. `You've done enough damage.' But Cassie took no notice and got to her feet, as he d known she would. He put his arm around her waist and led her away from the table.
`Have you got anything on you?'
She stared at him without comprehension. `Pills? Coke? Anything but hash.'
He felt her stiffen. Oh God, surely the silly cow hadn't thought he was still interested in her?
,Sorry, Cassie, that came out wrong. It's just that I'm in a rush tonight. I was going to call you.'
`Were you?’ Her mouth softened. `Were you really?'
They d spent a boozed-up weekend in bed three weeks back. Just long enough for Jamie to enjoy all that she had to offer and leave well satisfied.
The trouble was, her appetite had only just been whetted - or so he gathered from the phone messages and notes that had followed him since.
`Look, I'm tied up tonight but what about tomorrow? We could do dinner out or pizza in, you choose.'
She was wavering, he could see. Id like that,’ she said at last. `Great. I'll call tomorrow morning.’ Fat chance. `But I'm dead on my feet, Cassie. I just need something to keep me going.'
He knew she usually carried some stuff- their weekend stimulants had not all been served in a glass.
Ì've got a little coke,’ she admitted. `Great! I'll buy it off you.,
'No, you bloody well won't. What do you think I am?’ She pulled away from him and stalked through the door that led to the toilets. He followed and caught up with her in the passage. She rummaged in her bag and extracted something.
`Promise you'll call me.'
Ì promise. Tomorrow night's a date.'
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She leaned against him and slipped the small cellophane packet into his shirt pocket.
He had to kiss her, it was only fair. She tasted of cigarettes and Bacardi and smelt of something sweet and heavy, her familiar perfume. It was OK
and so was the kiss. But he d moved on since then, he thought as he pushed open the door of the Gents and made for the cubicle. Perhaps he d call Vanessa tomorrow instead.
The bog in the Lord Nelson wouldn't win prizes but at least the cistern had a flat top. Jamie wiped the porcelain clean with his shirt sleeve and carefully tipped the white powder onto the gleaming surface. He chop-chop-chopped the powder with his Visa card, then scraped it into two thin lines - one for each nostril. Excellent.
He pulled out one of Hartley's fifties and rolled the red banknote into a tight tube. He was going up in the world all right. The last time he d sniffed some coke he d used a bent straw.
He walked back into the bar with a spring in his step and set a course for the Ridgemoor table, steering well clear of Cassie and her stupid friend.
A hand tugged at his elbow. Richard. `Have you seen Malcolm?'
`No.'
Ì can 't find him.' Jamie shrugged. `So?' Ìf I flush him out can we get going?'
So that's what it was. Richard wanted to go home. Jamie was tempted to tell him to cadge a liji off someone else. On second thoughts, it might be a good idea to get out of Cassie's sight. He could nip down to the Rose after he d dropped the Priest boys off. The new barmaid was a looker.
ÒK, Rich. Give me ten minutes.'
His place had been saved at the table and a couple of fresh drinks were lined up. He splashed Coke into the two vodka glasses and downed the first in one.
`Thanks, lads,' he said though, come to think of it, it was probably his money that had paid for them. Which reminded him. He looked round at the Ridgemoor gang. Malcolm had reappeared. He was at the back with that blonde.
Ì've got a toast,’ Jamie shouted and all heads turned in his direction.
`Horses can't run and jockeys can't ride without lads and lasses like you.
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I've had a bloody good day today but it's all down to you lot. Cheers!’ He raised his glass then drained it.
The group responded enthusiastically and voices called out their appreciation.
`Fantastic performance today, Jamie.' `Great riding, mate.'
Jamie got to his feet, fumbling in his pocket. `Hang on,' he said, pulling Hartley's wad from his pocket and tossing four £50 notes on the table. Ì'm off but bung this on the tab. You all deserve to get pissed!'
Their gratitude was heartfelt- God, it was easy to be popular if you bought your round and told people what they wanted to hear. Not that he didn't mean it.
He broke away from the noisy, back-slapping group and pushed Malcolm in the direction of the door. Richard followed.
As they stepped out into the twilight he murmured to the big man, `Don't think I didn't notice you slipping off with that lass.'
Malcolm's reply was lost as the fresh air hit Jamie, sending his thoughts into a whirl and turning his legs to jelly. He grabbed the other man's arm to save himself from pitching headfirst onto the gravel.
`You all right, Jamie?’ came the anxious voice of Richard.
He steadied himself and took a deep breath. Ì'm fine,' he said carefully, the words coming from a distance. `Never felt better in my whole life.'