Pulse(46)

He didn’t look very happy at the prospect of more nights in his armchair.

‘How did the TV work go yesterday?’ I asked.

‘Really well,’ he said with a smile. ‘They’ve asked me back again today, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. I’ve decided I don’t enjoy sitting watching others ride when I can’t.’

I knew how he felt. I didn’t much enjoy watching the duty doctors working when I’d been excluded from their team.

‘Where’s your car then, doc?’ Dave asked, looking all around him.

‘What about my car?’ I asked sharply.

‘I just wondered where it was,’ Dave said. ‘We were parked next to each other yesterday.’

I thought it strange that he knew what my car looked like.

‘Do you recall seeing my car when you came out last night?’ I asked.

‘Sure, light blue Mini with a Union Jack roof,’ he said. ‘Very distinctive. Same as my missus – that’s why I remember it. But I left early. After the Stayers’ Hurdle. After I’d done my bit for the TV people.’

‘What time?’

‘I don’t know exactly. About four. Why?’

‘Did you notice anything unusual about my car?’

‘No. What sort of unusual?’

‘Were all the tyres flat?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Least, I don’t think so. I’d have surely noticed.’ He paused. ‘Blimey. Who did that then?’

‘I wish I knew,’ I said. ‘I’d give them what for.’

‘Did they do anyone else’s?’

‘No,’ I replied. ‘Just mine.’

‘That’s really bad luck,’ he said. ‘Did they slash them?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Just let them down. And it wasn’t bad luck. I was specifically targeted.’

Dave Leigh suddenly looked troubled.

‘What’s the problem?’ I asked.

‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘I’d better get on in.’ He turned to go away but I grabbed him by his good arm and swung him back to face me.

‘What’s the problem?’ I asked again, this time more forcefully.

He looked like a frightened schoolboy.

‘Somebody yesterday was asking about you.’

‘Who?’

‘I can’t remember.’

‘Come on, Dave,’ I said angrily. ‘Don’t give me that crap. Who was it?’

‘I really can’t remember,’ he whined.

‘What were they asking about me?’

‘I don’t know. I just heard your name mentioned and I’d just seen you so it registered with me.’

‘Where did this take place?’

‘In the changing room. I was getting ready to do my piece to camera. Someone mentioned your name and I remember saying that it was a coincidence because I was parked right alongside you in the car park. That’s all.’

‘Who knows your car?’ I asked.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Which of the other jockeys knows your car?’

‘All of them. We all know each other’s cars. Wives and girlfriends help get them home when one of us gets injured. My car was driven back for me by someone on Tuesday when I broke this.’ He pointed at his collarbone. ‘The valets organise it.’

‘Please try and remember who it was who was talking about me.’

He put his head on one side and stared into space. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It could have been anyone.’

‘How about him?’ I said, pointing at Mike Sheraton, who was driving an Audi into a parking space about twenty yards away from us.

‘No, not him,’ Dave said with bitterness but conviction. ‘I’d have remembered if that bastard had been the one.’

‘How about Jason Conway or Dick McGee?’

He thought some more.

‘It could have been, but it might not. Like I told you, I can’t remember.’

‘Who heard what you said about parking next to me?’

‘Anyone in there. I was hardly quiet.’ He laughed. ‘I was also miked up.’

‘Did he hear you?’ I pointed again at Mike Sheraton, who was removing a holdall from the boot of his car.

‘Might have done,’ Dave said. ‘I don’t know.’

I stood staring at Mike Sheraton. He glanced briefly in my direction and did a double take, turning up one corner of his mouth in a sneer, but I couldn’t be sure that he was sneering at me rather than at Dave Leigh. There was clearly no love lost between them.

Mike slammed shut the boot of his car and marched off towards the entrance without looking back.

‘Why do you two not get on?’ I asked.

‘That man doesn’t get on with anyone,’ Dave replied.

‘Why not?’

‘He’s too competitive.’

I laughed. ‘That’s rich. All jockeys are competitive.’

‘Yeah, maybe, but Sheraton is overly so. And he cheats.’

‘How?’ I asked.

‘He’ll swerve to take your ground at the last second as you approach a fence when there’s no head-on camera. Bloody dangerous it is, but he doesn’t care. And he uses his whip.’