Making Allowances

Chapter 14 Part 1

Audrey Dupre was as good as her word. Two days later, a call came through to my office. Through the repeated, almost embarrassing expressions of gratefulness, she told me that she had been diagnosed as having severe whiplash injuries, and whilst she had been discharged from hospital, she was living at her son’s house in London, because she was in a great deal of discomfort. As for her husband, he had been transferred to a private hospital less than a mile away, and whilst it was confirmed that he had, indeed, broken both his legs, he was comfortable and in good spirits. 

I asked if they would be able to make it to the Cheltenham Festival, and suggested that, if they did, then perhaps we could meet up for a drink in Town one evening. Mrs Dupre said that it was unlikely, but that she would stay in touch with news. 

But it wasn’t just news. The following day, I had a call from reception to say that a delivery had been made for my wife, care of my employers. I called in to collect the largest bouquet of fresh flowers I had ever seen, bearing a simple card addressed to my wife;

Sorry we spoiled your dinner! With sincere thanks and warm wishes, Dupre. 

Ellie’s squeal of delight, I am sure, could be heard in London. 

A week or so later, the phone rang at home one evening. To my surprise, I was greeted by an ageing American accent.

“Hey, good evening, it’s Mitchell Dupre..”

“Hello sir,” I faltered…”how are you?”

“Well, I’m doin’ real good…I’ve been discharged and I’m staying here at my son’s house in the City for a while.”

“I’m glad you’re out,” I replied, “How are those legs?”

“Well..” he lamented. ”I’m going to be in plaster for about five or six more weeks yet, but at least the casts are only knee high on each of the legs, so I can bend them. Thing is, though, I’m stuck in this damn chair most of the time.”

“Well,” I remarked, looking for consolation, “it could’ve been much worse, sir, it was a bad smash. When I reached you, I wasn’t sure what I was going to find.”

“Well, let me tell you something,” he confided, “you did everything right, young man, and it’s thanks largely to you that Audrey and I are in such good shape after all that. I really can’t think of the best way to thank you.”

I began to feel a little uneasy, “well, please, don’t preoccupy yourself, because I just did what anyone passing by would have done. I’m sure you’d have done the same for me, so as far as I’m concerned sir, there’s no need for any of that.”

“Well, we’ll see, son..” he murmured quietly.

I spoke to the Dupres regularly over the next month or so. Mr Dupre finally came out of plaster on the Thursday before the Grand National. He rang me on Grand National Day with the latest update, urging me also to have a few pounds on Crepuscule in the high profile hurdle race which immediately preceded the main event. Sure enough, the lightly raced ex-Champion Hurdler saw off the new Champion, the strongly fancied Irish raider Full Nine Yards, at a backable 7-2, giving a healthy dividend on my twenty pounds. With Ellie’s pin-sticking technique, she made a mockery of my form-studying, to bag herself an unlikely National winner in the shape of Stately Minuet, at a tasty 18-1.

I phoned Mr Dupre on the Sunday to thank him for the tip, and asked him if he could oblige me with a similar tip for the Scottish National at Ayr on the following Saturday.

“I think I can do a bit better than that..” he murmured coyly. “I’m running Artistic Licence and I wondered if you and your wife would like to come with us, as our guests..”

I was speechless, but managed to gather myself quickly enough to accept.

Seven days later, Ellie and I were being private jetted and chauffeur driven to the VIP Lounge  at Ayr Racecourse. On several occasions during a relaxed and highly enjoyable afternoon, I cast my mind back to the early days, the foot-slogs with Granddad to the Point-to-Point course, the Clampitt family excursions to the modest enclosures of Towcester and such like. Now, champagne and vol-au-vents, first class views and prestigious company, it felt almost surreal.

The Dupres were excellent hosts. Mitchell Dupre, despite his ongoing discomfort, was full of energy and conversation. He introduced us to all of his acquaintances and appeared to be using some Artistic Licence of his own, as my modest efforts to make him and his wife comfortable on that night, began to take on epic proportions.

In quieter moments he would quiz me about fancied runners for the afternoon’s card, and asked me more about my experiences with my family in the Racing Game over the years. He hung on every word and asked very relevant questions and offered his own opinions freely. I could not understand his interest, and just hoped that I was not being treated as some quaint “novelty” item. Whatever the truth was, the Dupres certainly were making this a very special day’s racing to remember.

To my delight, and with some disbelief, we found ourselves in the Parade Ring as the big race drew closer. I was re-acquainted with Dennis Eaves, as we awaited Ryan Kellett to saddle up.

“Ay up then, ‘hero’”, teased Dennis, “I’ve heard all about it!”

“I had forgotten that you two already know each other,” remarked Dupre, “but now I remember. Dennis told me all about your father, he sounds like quite a guy.”

“He’s a bloody handful,” I quipped. Dennis nodded his head and cackled.

The race, as it transpired, was an anti-climax, with Artistic Licence, leading four fences out, fading badly to finish a distant fifth, as the favourite Waxworks won convincingly. Nevertheless, the for the Dupres, the fact that they were back on the circuit, was victory enough on this occasion. As for us, we had a wonderful insight into the other side of Racing.

On the plane trip home, the conversation returned to my own family, and in particular, the exploits of Dad.

“What do you think drove him to keep riding when it nearly killed him?” asked Audrey Dupre.

“All I can think,” I offered, “is that he had such a deep-set love for the sport, that the urge was more powerful than anything else in his life. When the feeling is that strong, then I guess there isn’t much you can, nor want to, do about it.”

“Do you think if he had gotten some better horses to ride, he would have won on them?” asked Mitchell Dupre.

“Oh I think so,” I replied, “and I think Dennis would say that, too.”

“Is he still riding?”

“Hmm, not now.”

“Was it age?”

“Not really,” I said, “I think he just got tired of waiting for something wonderful to happen.”

“Something wonderful, huh?”

“Yeah, it was something my Grandfather said once, and it has stuck with me. I think that one bit of good fortune would have made all the difference. “

“Luck does have an awful lot to do with things,” sighed Dupre, “in any sphere you care to imagine, business, pleasure, even love!”

I nodded quietly; he was a beneficiary and I was more of a victim, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings; after all, it had been a quite lovely day.

As we bid our farewells that evening, Mitchell Dupre had another proposition.

“I’m giving Loch Naver Lad a run in the Whitbread Gold Cup at Sandown next week, what say you? Shall we do the same thing again?”

“I would love to,” I accepted, beaming unashamedly, “Loch Naver Lad is one of my favourites; I’ll never forget roaring him up the hill at Cheltenham to beat Jupiter Raider in the Arkle Challenge Trophy.” 

Dupre smiled, eyes closed, in satisfaction “That was a great day” he sighed happily.

Chapter 14, Part 2

Synopsis

If you would like to contact Richie, please email him at: richie@baylands.fsnet.co.uk

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