|
Making Allowances
Chapter 14 Part 2
|
|
Sure enough, next week, there we were again; chauffeur driven, VIP Lounge, rubbing shoulders with the wealthy, famous and privileged; the lucky. I found myself, once again, thinking how, were it not for a few bad breaks, we may have been here, in our own right. Maybe, if Vendredi had escaped that freak accident, she’d have gone on to be a top class hurdler or chaser. Maybe, if National Service hadn’t intervened, Dad would have been a top class jockey. Maybe, if Grampy had remembered the letter, or if Mum hadn’t fallen pregnant, Dad would have got here, on his own, at least.
“Do you think he’ll get the trip?” I asked Mitchell Dupre as the runners left the Parade Ring. “All of his wins have been over shorter distances, haven’t they?”
He shrugged and nodded. ”The thrill of racing isn’t always about winning. Often, you can have just as much fun changing the picture, you know, what would happen if we did this, if we did that. It may not always work, but it’s never boring.”
“Sounds like a philosophy,” I commented.
“Well,” he smiled, “it sort of is! You know, I never liked things to be too cut and dried, even in my business dealings. Changing things does not necessarily make things easier, or better, in the short term, but I always figured that you had to experience as many things as possible, to give you as many options as you needed, to make considered decisions about things. I happen to believe it enriches your life, too, you know, makes it more interesting, gives you less regrets too!”
“But you must admit,” I ventured, bravely, “you have been fortunate.”
“I agree,” he replied, “and I thank the good Lord for my blessings, but I hope I have not squandered those blessings idly, or ignorantly. It still takes some courage, some fibre or fortitude..”
He looked at me, “you do understand, son?
I looked back questioningly.
“I hope you do.” He tapped my shoulder like a father does to a grown-up son.
“Follow your heart.” He walked away to join Ellie and Audrey.
I stood and wondered what he meant.
The 14 runners in the Whitbread Gold Cup jumped off. Having enjoyed such wonderful hospitality over the last fortnight, I felt obliged to have a few pounds on Loch Naver Lad, even though I knew that this was a much longer distance than those to which he was used to racing. I had been an admirer of the horse ever since I had backed him in the Arkle trophy a couple of years before at Cheltenham, and had laid a number of sympathetic bets on him since then; some paid off, some didn’t.
Here, there was some hot competition, not least from stable companion, Scheduled Stop, a true Gold Cup class chaser. Then there was First of Many, narrowly beaten in the Gold Cup itself less than two months before, and hot favourite to add to another trophy to his owner’s creaking shelves. Lilliput and Young Tavish had both completed a gruelling Grand National a few weeks before on soft ground, whilst Quiet Words was back to defend his title. It was going to be a tall order.
With a circuit to go, all of the runners were jumping well, with less than 15 yards covering the entire field. Loch Naver Lad was travelling well, jumping safely, and not in any apparent trouble. Into the back straight, the field began to stretch as the Railway Fences loomed thick and fast; the wheat and the chaff were starting to separate.
By the Pond Fence three out, First of Many had come off the bridle and cruised up to dispute the lead with the hard-ridden Scheduled Stop. A quintet of horses trailed by three lengths, all getting reminders, being spurred into a final bid for glory; this included Loch Naver Lad. Jockey Declan Flynn made his move; he surged out of the group to pursue the leaders over the penultimate fence. Ellie began to squeeze my arm and jump up and down.
“C.mon Lad,” I urged through gritted teeth. Suddenly, my modest twenty pound bet at 10-1 looked to be a very attractive proposition.
As the three leaders negotiated the last I held my breath, oblivious to the roar of the excited crowd, but as soon as they regained their momentum, it was clear that Loch Naver Lad had shot his bolt. First of Many moved up a gear, blazing on to the line, with Scheduled Stop gamely but vainly labouring in his wake and Loch Naver Lad, some fifteen lengths back, cantering across the line for a gallant but exhausted third place.
I stood back and watched the placed horses enter the Unsaddling Enclosure.
“He wasn’t quite strong enough, was he?” Ellie summarised.
“No, love.” I agreed. “But he jumped well, and he survived the distance, even if he didn’t actually get the distance. On another day, maybe in a more attritional race, different circumstances, a ‘survivor’ might win.”
As the entourage dispersed, Mitchell Dupre looked around, and on seeing us, he beckoned us over.
“Can you two come back to the stables with us?” he asked, “I’ve something important I want to ask you.” I glanced questioningly at Ellie, almost furtively, through a furrowed brow.
We strolled back to the stable area, discussing the race.
“Well,” I began, “he gave you another great race, even though it wasn’t really his distance, and he was only beaten by two real ‘greats’. Look at all the horses he beat; Quiet Words, Lilliput, Wishgranted, Young Tavish, he’s still got a big heart.”
Dupre smiled, “You seem to have a lot of affection for him”.
I nodded, smiling, “how could you fail to love him, he’s a star.”
“I am glad you feel that way,” he said. He looked at his wife and they both smiled.
Dupre gathered Ellie and I towards him.
“The thing is,” he said, in a quiet, almost whispering tone, “Audrey and I would like it very much if you would accept him from us, as a gift.”
I squinted, looked at Ellie, looked at Dupre “Say again?”
Dupre repeated, “We would like you to have Loch Naver Lad.”
I stood in stunned, disbelieving silence; Ellie, rendered completely speechless, stood, hand over mouth, in shock.
“Let me just get this straight,” I said, still stupefied. “Are you offering this horse to me?”
“That’s about the size of it,” he replied. “I’ve been thinking, ever since the accident, of some way in which we could thank you..”
“I told you I didn’t want anything sir” I began to interject, but Dupre raised both palms in a motion to stop me talking.
“Please..” he insisted, “ I thought about it long and hard; I discussed it with Audrey and my son Lyle and we all agreed that we couldn’t think of anything better than to share some good luck with you. God only knows you deserve some. You clearly love this sport, what with all your family history and stuff, and this old game hasn’t been too kind to you. Now I know he’s getting old , but I know how fond you are of him, and I am sure you’d get a big thrill from seeing him run in your own colours, in your name. I’m sure you and Ellie and all your folks would have great fun. I want you to have him as a token of mine and Audrey’s thanks and friendship. Without your help that night, things could have gotten a whole lot worse than they did. This is the best way that we could find to say ‘Thank You’. Please, I hope you will accept this gift in the spirit that I offer it. Here’s a chance for you to make a change”
I looked, in amazement, at Ellie, tearful, still rendered motionless with shock. Finally she spoke: “It’s always been a dream of yours,” she enthused, “and we don’t have any children, yet! We can afford it, and you may never get another chance like this.”
“I’d be happy to help you with training fees,” Dupre offered.
“No sir, thank you, but no” I refused, “we can afford to do it, and your offer is more than generous.”
“Well, OK” he replied, “but have we got ourselves a new owner?” He offered his hand, and we shook vigorously, and the air filled with the warm echoes of laughter.
I had just become a racehorse owner.
And a week later, I found out that I was also to become a father.
|
|
If you would like to contact Richie, please email him at: richie@baylands.fsnet.co.uk
© Copyright Richie Phillips. No unauthorised reproduction allowed. |
|
Hosted by www.HorseData.co.uk. The web's equine information service. |