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'Thanks a bunch。'
'Sid； seriously； look out for yourself。'
I felt as prepared as one could be for some sort of catastrophic pulverisation to e my way； but in the event the process was subtler and long drawn out。
As if nothing had happened； Ellis resumed his television programme and began making jokes about Sid Halley 'Sid Halley？ That friend of mine！ Have you heard that he es from Halifax？ Halley facts…he makes them up。'
And 'I like halibut…I eat it。' And the old ones that I was used to； 'halitosis' and 'Hallelujah。'
Hilarious。
When I went to the races； which I didn't do as often as earlier； people either turned their backs or laughed； and I wasn't sure which I disliked more。
I took to going only to jumping meetings； knowing Ellis's style took him to the most fashionable meetings on the Flat。 I acknowledged unhappily to myself that in my avoidance of him there was an element of cringe。 I despised myself for it。 All the same； I shrank from a confrontation with him and truly didn't know whether it was because of an ever…deepening aversion to what he had done； or because of the fear…the certainty…that he would publicly mock me。
He behaved as if there were never going to be a trial； as if awkward details like Land…Rovers； lopping shears； and confirmed matching DNA tests tying the shears to the Bracken colt were never going to surface； once the sub judice silence ended。
Norman； Archie and also Charles Roland worried that； for all the procedural care we had taken； Ellis's lawyers would somehow get the Land…Rover disallowed。 Ellis's lawyers； Norman said； backed by the heavy unseen presence that was motivating them and possibly even paying the mounting fees； now included a defence counsel whose loss rate for the previous seven years was nil。
Surprisingly； despite the continuing barrage of ignominy； I went on being offered work。 True； the approach was often tentative and apologetic…'Whether you're right or pigheaded about Ellis Quint 。。。' and 'Even if you've got Ellis Quint all wrong 。。。' the nitty gritty seemed to be that they needed me and there was no one else。
Well； hooray for that。 I cleaned up minor mysteries； checked credit ratings； ditto characters； found stolen horses； caught sundry thieves； all the usual stuff。
July came in with a deluge that flooded rivers and ruined the shoes of racegoers； and no colt was attacked at the time of the full moon； perhaps because the nights were wet and windy and black dark with clouds。
The Press finally lost interest in the daily trashing of Sid Halley and Ellis Quint's show wrapped up for the summer break。 I went down to Kent a couple of times； taking new fish for Rachel； sitting on the floor with her； playing draughts。 Neither Linda nor I mentioned Ellis。 She hugged me goodbye each time and asked when I would be ing back。 Rachel； she said； had had no more nightmares。 They were a thing of the past。
August came quietly and left in the same manner。 No colts were attacked。 The Hotline went cold。 India Cathcart busied herself with a cabinet member's mistress but still had a routinely vindictive jab at me each Friday。 I went to America for two short weeks and rode horses up the Teton mountains in Wyoming； letting the wide skies and the forests work their peace。
In September； one dew…laden early autumn English Saturday morning after a calm moonlit night； a colt was discovered with a foot off。
Nauseated； I heard the announcement on the radio in the kitchen while I made coffee。
Listeners would remember； the cool newsreader said； that in June Ellis Quint had been notoriously accused by ex…jockey Sid Halley of a similar attack。 Quint was laughing off this latest incident； affirming his total ignorance on the matter。
There were no Hotline calls from The Pump； but Norman Picton scorched the wires。
'Have you heard？' he demanded。
'Yes。 But no details。'
'It was a yearling colt this time。 Apparently； there aren't many two…year…olds in the fields just now； but there are hundreds of yearlings。'
'Yes；' I agreed。 'The yearling sales are starting。'
'The yearling in question belonged to some people near Northampton。 They're frantic。 Their vet put the colt out of his misery。 But get this。 Ellis Quint's lawyers have already claimed he has an alibi。'
I stood in silence in my sitting…room； looking out to the unthreatening garden。
'Sid？'
'Mm。'
'You'll have to break that alibi。 Otherwise； it will break you。'
'Mm。'
'Say something else； dammit。'
'The police can do it。 Your lot。'
'Face it。 They're not going to try very hard。 They're going to believe in his alibi； if it's anything like solid。'
'Do you think； do you really think；' I asked numbly； 'that an ultra…respected barrister would connive with his client to mutilate 。。。 to kill 。。。 a colt or pay someone else to do it to cast doubt on the prosecution's case in the matter of a different colt？'
'Put like that； no。'
'Nor do I。'
'So Ellis Quint has set it up himself； and what he has set up； you can knock down。'
'He's had weeks…more than two months…to plan it。'
'Sid；' he said； 'it's not like you to sound defeated。'
If he； I thought； had been on the receiving end of a long pitiless barrage of systematic denigration； he might feel as I did； which； if not prehensively defeated； was at least battle weary before I began。
'The police at Northampton；' I said； 'are not going to wele me with open arms。'
'That's never stopped you before。'
I sighed。 'Can you find out from the Northampton police what his alibi actually is？'
'Piece of cake。 I'll phone you back。'
I put down the receiver and went over to the window。 The little square looked peaceful and safe； the railed garden green and grassy； a tree…dappled haven where generations of privileged children had run and played while their nursemaids gossiped。 I'd spent my own childhood in Liverpool's back streets； my father dead and my mother fighting cancer。 I in no way regretted the contrast in origins。 I had learned self…sufficiency and survival there。 Perhaps because of the back streets I now valued the little garden more。 I wondered how the children who'd grown up in that garden would deal with Ellis Quint。 Perhaps I could learn from them。 Ellis had been that sort of child。
Norman phoned back later in the morning。
'Your friend；' he said； 'reportedly spent the night at a private dance in Shropshire； roughly a hundred miles to the north…west of the colt。 Endless friends will testify to his presence； including his hostess； a duchess。 It was a dance given to celebrate the twenty…first birthday of the heir。'
'Damn。'
'He could hardly have chosen a more conspicuous or more watertight alibi。'
'And some poor bitch will swear she lay down for him at dawn。'
'Why dawn？'
'It's when it happens。'
'How do you know？'
'Never you mind；' I said。
'You're a bad boy； Sid。'
Long ago； I thought。 Before Jenny。 Summer dances； dew； wet grass； giggles and passion。 Long ago and innocent。
Life's a bugger； I thought。
'Sid；' Norman's voice said； 'do you realise the trial is due to start two weeks on Monday？'
'I do realise。'
'Then get a mo