按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
CHAPTER 3
Back in London I met Kevin Mills； the journalist from The Pump； at lunchtime in the same pub as before。
'It's time for both barrels；' I said。
He swigged his double gin。 'What have you discovered？'
I outlined the rest of the pattern； beyond what he'd told me about two…year…old colts on moonlit nights。 One chop from something like a machete。 Always the off…fore foot。 Always near a water trough。 No insurance。 And always just after a major local race meeting： Cheltenham； the Gold Cup Festival； the Grand National at Liverpool； the Spring Meeting at York。
'And this Saturday； two days from now；' I said levelly； 'we have the Derby。'
He put his glass down slowly； and after a full silent minute said； 'What about the kid's pony？'
I shrugged resignedly。 'It was the first that we know of。'
'And it doesn't fit the pattern。 Not a two…year…old colt； was he？ And no major race meeting； was there？'
'The severed foot was by the water trough。 The off…fore foot。 Moon in the right quarter。 One chop。 No insurance。'
He frowned； thinking。 'Tell you what；' he said eventually； 'it's worth a warning。 I'm not a sports writer； as you know； but I'll get the message into the paper somewhere。 'Don't leave your two…year…old colts unguarded in open fields during and after the Epsom meeting。' I don't think I can do more than that。'
'It might be enough。'
'Yeah。 If all the owners of colts read The Pump。'
'It will be the talk of the racecourse。 I'll arrange that。'
'On Derby Day？' He looked sceptical。 'Still； it will be better than nothing。' He drank again。 'What we really need to do is catch the bugger red…handed。'
We gloomily contemplated that impossibility。 Roughly fifteen thousand thoroughbred foals were born each year in the British Isles。 Half would be colts。 Many of those at two would already be in training for Flat racing； tucked away safely in stables； but that still left a host unattended out of doors。 By June； also； yearling colts； growing fast； could be mistaken at night for two…year…olds。
Nothing was safe from a determined vandal。
Kevin Mills went away to write his column and I travelled on to Kent to report to my clients。
'Have you found out who'？' Linda demanded。
'Not yet。'
We sat by the sitting…room window again； watching Rachel push Pegotty in his buggy round the lawn； and I told her about the three colts and their shattered owners。
'Three more；' Linda repeated numbly。 'In March； April and May？ And Silverboy in February？'
'That's right。'
'And what about now？ This month 。。。 June？'
I explained about the warning to be printed in The Pump。
'I'm not going to tell Rachel about the other three；' Linda said。 'She wakes up screaming as it is。'
'I enquired into other injured horses all over England；' I said； 'but they were all hurt differently from each other。 I think 。。。 well 。。。 that there are several different people involved。 And； I don't think the thugs that blinded and cut the ponies round here had anything to do with Silverboy。'
Linda protested。 'But they must have done！ There couldn't be two lots of vandals。'
'I think there were。'
She watched Rachel and Pegotty； the habitual tears not far away。 Rachel was tickling the baby to make him laugh。
'I'd do anything to save my daughter；' Linda said。 'The doctor said that if only she'd had several sisters； one of them might have had the right tissue type。 Joe…Rachel's father…is half Asian。 It seems harder to find a match。 So I had the baby。 I had Pegotty five months ago。' She wiped her eyes。 'Joe has his new wife and he wouldn't sleep with me again； not even for Rachel。 So he donated sperm and I had artificial insemination； and it worked at once。 It seemed an omen 。。。 and I had the baby 。。。 but he doesn't match Rachel。 There was only ever one chance in four that he would have the same tissue type and antigens 。。。 I hoped and prayed 。。。 but he doesn't。' She gulped； her throat closing。 'So I have Pegotty 。。。 he's Peter； really； but we call him Pegotty 。。。 but Joe won't bond with him 。。。 and we still can't find a match anywhere for Rachel and there isn't much time for me to try with another baby 。。。 and Joe won't anyway。 His wife objects 。。。 and he didn't want to do it the first time。'
'I'm so sorry；' I said。
'Joe's wife goes on and on about Joe having to pay child support for Pegotty 。。。 and now she's pregnant herself。'
Life； I thought； brought unlimited and plicated cruelties。
'Joe isn't mean；' Linda said。 'He loves Rachel and he bought her the pony and he keeps us fortable； but his wife says I could have six children without getting a match 。。。' Her voice wavered and stopped； and after a while she said； 'I don't know why I burdened you with all that。 You're so easy to talk to。'
'And interested。'
She nodded； sniffing and blowing her nose。 'Go out and talk to Rachel。 I told her you were ing back today。 She liked you。'
Obediently I went out into the garden and gravely shook hands with Rachel； and we sat side by side on a garden bench like two old buddies。
Though still warm； the golden days of early June were greying and growing damp： good for roses perhaps； but not for the Derby。
I apologised that I hadn't yet found out who had attacked Silverboy。
'But you will in the end； won't you？'
'I hope so；' I said。
She nodded。 'I told Daddy yesterday that I was sure you would。'
'Did you？'
'Yes。 He took me out in his car。 He does that sometimes； when Didi goes to London to do shopping。'
'Is Didi his wife？'
Rachel's nose wrinkled in a grimace； but she made no audible judgement。 She said； 'Daddy says someone chopped your hand off； just like Silverboy。'
She regarded me gravely； awaiting confirmation。
'Er；' I said； unnerved； 'not exactly like Silverboy。'
'Daddy says the man who did it was sent to prison； but he's out again now on parole。'
'Do you know what 〃on parole〃 means？' I asked curiously。
'Yes。 Daddy told me。'
'Your Daddy knows a lot。'
'Yes； but is it true that someone chopped your hand off？'
'Does it matter to you？'
'Yes； it does；' she said。 'I was thinking about it in bed last night。 I have awful dreams。 I tried to stay awake because I didn't want to go to sleep and dream about you having your hand chopped off。'
She was trying to be grown up and calm； but I could feel screaming hysteria too near the surface； so； stifling my own permanent reluctance to talk about it； I gave her an abbreviated account of what had happened。
'I was a jockey；' I began。
'Yes； I know。 Daddy said you were the champion for years。'
'Well； one day my horse fell in a race； and while I was on the ground another horse landed over a jump straight onto my wrist and 。。。 um 。。。 tore it apart。 It got stitched up； but I couldn't use my hand much。 I had to stop being a jockey； and I started doing what I do now； which is finding out things； like who hurt Silverboy。'
She nodded。
'Well； I found out something that an extremely nasty man didn't want me to know； and he 。。。 er 。。。 he hit my bad wrist and broke it again； and that time the doctors couldn't stitch it up； so they decided that I'd be better off with a us