Read Online Front Runner by Felix Francis - Free Book Online Page B

happy with the result?”
    â€œI’d have preferred it if he’d won, obviously, but he ran above his rating, so I can’t complain.”
    â€œWere you happy about the way he was ridden?”
    â€œI suppose so. Dave Swinton rode him.” He opened his hands, palms up, as if to say how could he possibly complain about the late champion jockey?
    â€œBut the horse was badly boxed in coming round the final bend and had to drop back before making his run.”
    â€œI know,” he said, “but I’d told Dave Swinton that Chiltern Line liked to run close to the rail. Always does at home, so it may have been my fault he was in that position.”
    I wasn’t completely convinced, but there seemed to be nothing further to say on the matter.
    â€œWell, that’s all,” I said. “Thank you for your time.”
    â€œNo problem,” Tom said, and Mr. and Mrs. Valdemon smiled.
    I began to turn away but then turned back to face him. “Just one last thing. Did Dave Swinton ever ask you for an extra ‘gift’ to ride your horses?”
    He blushed.
    â€œIn what way?” he asked, but he knew exactly in what way I was talking about.
    â€œAs an extra riding fee?”
    â€œWhy would he do that?”
    â€œLook,” I said. “I know he asked others. I just want to knowif he asked you. It’s not against the Rules of Racing.” At least, I didn’t think so, even though any unregistered payments in cash were always frowned upon, and maybe they did break one or the other of the myriad obscure BHA regulations.
    â€œHe called me and said he’d ride my horses, but he wanted an extra hundred and fifty pounds each time to ride them. I said I wouldn’t pay that—I couldn’t afford it—so I told him I’d get someone else to ride them. But then he said he’d do it for just a hundred, and an additional cut of any prize money.”
    â€œHow big an additional cut?” I asked.
    â€œAs much again as the rules state, paid in cash to him as a gift. I had to get my owners to agree, as they had to pay it.”
    Mr. and Mrs. Valdemon nodded at me in unison.
    â€œWe thought it was worth it to get his services,” said Mrs. Valdemon in a soft Black Country accent. “He won two races for us before.” She squeezed her husband’s hand. “And he should have been riding Peach of a Day for us this afternoon. It is such a dreadful thing to have happened to him, isn’t it?”
    â€œIndeed it is,” I agreed.
    I left the three of them to their drinks and went outside to watch the second race from the grandstand—a not very exciting-looking two-and-a-half-mile novice hurdle race for conditional jockeys.
    Inexperienced riders on inexperienced horses—not surprisingly, it was a recipe for disaster.
    Southwell racetrack is a flat oval with two long stretches joined by sharp semicircular bends. It is just over a mile around, which means that in a two-and-a-half-mile race the horses have to complete two and a bit full circuits. Hence, the start was between the second last and final hurdles.
    The seven runners jumped off fairly well and, as is always the way in novice hurdle races, they clattered their way noisily over the first obstacle.
    As they passed in front of the grandstand for the first time, one of them tried to dive back down the chute toward the parade ring and the stables. The poor fresh-faced jockey was caught completely unawares and was unceremoniously dumped onto the turf in full view of the meager crowd, much to the enjoyment of most.
    The remaining six continued on their way around the sharp turn and down the back stretch, negotiating the hurdles with little drama.
    That was reserved for later.
    Two of the young jockeys obviously couldn’t count up to three and rode out a finish between them when there was still a whole circuit of the course to complete. Their embarrassment was compounded when