Chapter Three
THE TWO-YEAR-OLDS
THE toilet of the two-year-olds was proceeding in the more unfrequented portions of the paddock.
‘Come and see Rondavel saddled, Jon,’ said Fleur.
And, when he looked back, she laughed.
‘No, you’ve got Anne all day and all night. Come with me for a change.’
On the far side of the paddock the son of Sleeping Dove was holding high his intelligent head, and his bit was being gently jiggled, while Greenwater with his own hands adjusted the saddle.
‘A race-horse has about the best time of anything on earth,’ she heard Jon say. ‘Look at his eye – wise, bright, not bored. Draft horses have a cynical, long-suffering look – race-horses never. He likes his job; that keeps him spirity.’
‘Don’t talk like a pamphlet, Jon. Did you expect to see me here?’
‘Yes.’
‘And it didn’t keep you away? How brave!’
‘Must you say that sort of thing?’
‘What then? You notice, Jon, that a race-horse never stands over at the knee; the reason is, of course, that he isn’t old enough. By the way, there’s one thing that spoils your raptures about them. They’re not free agents.’
‘Is anyone?’
How set and obstinate his face!
They joined Val, who said gloomily:
‘D’you want to have anything on?’
‘Do you, Jon?’ said Fleur.
‘Yes; a tenner.’
‘So will I then. Twenty pounds between us, Val.’
Val sighed.
‘Look at him! Ever see a two-year–old more self-contained? I tell you that youngster’s going far. And I’m confined to a miserable “pony” ! Damn!’
He left them and spoke to Greenwater.
‘More self-contained,’ said Fleur. ‘Not a modern quality, is it, Jon?’
‘Perhaps, underneath.’
‘Oh! You’ve been in the backwoods too long. Francis, too, was wonderfully primitive; so, I suppose, is Anne. You should have tried New York, judging by their literature.’
‘I don’t judge by literature; I don’t believe there’s any relation between it and life.’
‘Let’s hope not, anyway. Where shall we see the race from?’
‘The rails over there. It’s the finish I care about. I don’t see Anne.’
Fleur closed her lips suddenly on the words: ‘Damn Anne.’
‘We can’t wait for them,’ she said. ‘The rails soon fill up.’
On the rails they were almost opposite the winning-post, and they stood there silent, in a queer sort of enmity – it seemed to Fleur.
‘Here they come!’
Too quickly and too close to be properly taken in, the two-year-olds come cantering past.
Rondavel goes well,’ said Jon. ‘And I like that brown.’
Fleur noted them languidly, too conscious of being alone with him – really alone, blocked off by strangers from any knowing eye. To savour that loneliness of so few minutes was tasking all her faculties. She slipped her hand through his arm, and forced her voice.
‘I’m awfully worked up, Jon. He simply must win.’
Did he know that in focusing his glasses he left her hand uncaged?
‘I can’t make them out from here.’ Then his arm recaged her hand against his side. Did he know? What did he know?
‘They’re off!’
Fleur pressed closer.
Silence – din – shouting of this name – that name! But pressure against him was all it meant to Fleur. Past they came, a flourishing flash of colour; but she saw nothing of it, for her eyes were closed.
‘By Gosh!’ she heard him say: ‘He’s won.’
‘Oh, Jon!’
‘I wonder what price we got?’
Fleur looked at him, a spot of red in each pale cheek, and her eyes very clear.
‘Price? Did you really mean that, Jon?’
And, though he was behind her, following to the paddock she knew from the way his eyes were fixed on her, that he had not meant it.
They found their party reunited, all but Soames. Jack Cardigan was explaining that the price obtained was unaccountably short, since there was no stable money on to speak of; somebody must have known something; he seemed to think that this was extremely reprehensible.
‘I suppose Uncle Soames hasn’t been going for the gloves,’ he said. ‘Nobody’s seen him since the Gold Cup. Wouldn’t it be ripping if we found he’d kicked over and had a “monkey” on?’
Fleur said uneasily:
‘I expect Father got tired and went to the car. We’d better go too, Auntie, and get away before the crowd.’
She turned to Anne. ‘When shall we see you again?’ She saw the girl look at Jon, and heard him say glumly: