The Dark Horse (17 page)

Back in the Convent courtyard she patted him gratefully. ‘Poor old Solomon's mouth was hard,' and, ‘Better with Strawberry,' she told Gulab who was already gleaming with pride.

‘And better still,' said Mr Leventine, ‘you will have the buggy.'

‘The buggy?'

‘The buggy, of course, is yours too.'

That did take her by surprise. ‘But, dear Mr Leventine, what should we do with a buggy? How would it hold our canisters? Protect the Sisters in wet weather? Yes, I know our canvas leaks, but… '

‘You could use the buggy for errands,' but she shook her head.

‘The poor don't have buggies and we are Sisters of Poverty; we do our errands as they do, by 'bus or tram, or on our own feet when we can't afford fares. We have the cart only for our “collecting” and Strawberry must pull that. It is most kind of you… ' She paused, then a look came over her face, a shrewdness, twin, he recognised with unexpected comradeship, of his own. ‘Of course, as you are so generous, perhaps the cost of the buggy could repair our cart.'

‘Repair
that
! You shall have a new cart.' Mr Leventine seemed unable to stop himself saying it and at once wanted to retract. He should have added ‘one day,' which would have meant never; he was just going to say it when the old Sister spoke, the one who had accompanied Mother Morag like a shadow and had never opened her mouth. Now, in a curiously deep and impressive voice, she said, ‘God bless you, Mr Leventine,' and a strange feeling of happiness that seemed to come from outside himself warmed and illumined Mr Leventine. He had never been blessed before.

 

Strawberry's papers and certificates had been handed over, ‘Now all we have to do,' said Mr Leventine, ‘is make our amicable exchange,' and another, even stranger, sensation filled him, a feeling of deep gratification, though why he should be gratified when he had been forced – yes, forced – to spend a great deal of money, he did not know, but he felt it, as he said, ‘our amicable exchange. The Quillan syces have arrived to fetch Dark Invader.' He bowed to Mother Morag in what was meant to be a farewell, but a crowd had gathered outside the gate, a crowd that was growing larger; the air was full of murmurs and wonderings and Mother Morag said suddenly, ‘It would be wise – I think imperative – that the people see the horse goes willingly.'

Dark Invader would not go willingly. After these two halcyon days, he had no intention of returning to the effort and stress of the racecourse. The quiet walks around the vegetable garden while he was talked to gently, or heard gentle talking – the fact that Mother Morag was saying a psalm made no difference to Dark Invader – the tidbits of bread and salt that came like manna from heaven at unexpected times, Gulab's and Mother Morag's gentle grooming, none of that thump and slapping, all suited his large, lazy and greedy self. When Gulab led him out of the stall he thought at first it was for another quiet wander or some more bread and salt. Instead, he saw Sadiq and Ali advancing. Dark Invader stopped, looking carefully, then laid back his ears, showed his teeth and, when Sadiq put his hand on the halter rope, taking it from Gulab, the Invader gave vent to a sideways swing of his head that hit his hard jawbone on Gulab's face and drew a gasp from the crowd.

Then they, Mr Leventine and the nuns, were given a display of such horse fireworks they had never seen or imagined. Dark Invader kicked, reared, beating the air with his forefeet, bringing them down on the cobblestones with a crash and going up again. Sadiq and Ali manfully held on, dodging the flashing hooves, shouting and cursing, while Mr Leventine wailed, ‘Last time it was on the racecourse on grass, here it is stone. He will come down. He will injure himself.' It was only the appearance of Sister Barbara and Sister Joanna bearing, like handmaidens, slices of bread and salt, calling in their cooing voices, ‘Beauty, Beauty, Beauty,' that made Dark Invader stop. As if nothing had happened, he accepted their tidbits and when Sister Joanna took the rope from Sadiq, let her lead him towards the vegetable garden leaving the two grooms out of breath and shamed, their turbans half off their heads, and furiously, ‘Allah! Ismallah! Shaitan! Satan!' Sadiq muttered, rewinding his turban, while Gulab staunched his nosebleed. ‘Do you think,' the shattered Mr Leventine asked Mother Morag, ‘that the sight of Sadiq could have brought back this famous fear?'

‘Not at all,' said Mother Morag. ‘The horse was not sweating or lathered or trembling. He simply wanted to have his own way – but poor Sadiq and Gulab.'

‘Of course.' Mr Leventine slapped his thigh. ‘Of course, that fool Johnny should never have sent them,' and he bellowed, ‘Why didn't he send Ted Mullins?' and Mr Leventine ordered, ‘Telephone Quillan and tell him to send Mullins at once. No – wait,' and Mr Leventine said majestically, ‘I will fetch him myself.'

 

‘Mullins.
Mullins!
'

Ted raised his head. He was sitting where he had sat for most of the last two days – at the desk in the darkest corner of the darkened room – he had kept the shutters closed. There was nothing on the desk now; the photograph of him and Ella in her ‘lace curtain' had been shut away in the drawer, as had been the framed form of his new licence. From long habit he had gone to bed at night, undressed, put on his nightshirt, only to lie awake; at dawn when he heard the Jemadar's call, he got up, shaved and dressed but, as he heard the horses go out, he took a cup of tea from Ahmed's tray, leaving the toast and bananas untouched, and shut himself in the room again. ‘He will die!' Dahlia wept in her distress. ‘For two days he has taken nothing but that cup of tea, no food, no drink. He will die.'

‘No-one dies from going without food or drink for two days,' said John.

‘Papa – you must forgive poor Ted. You must.' The bandar-log were frantic. ‘You are not to go near him,' John had ordered them, but of course they disobeyed, or would have if Ted had allowed it, but, ‘If your Pa says no – no it is,' Ted's voice had said from inside. Still they kept vigil, tried to prise open the shutters with their fingers, to creep in through the bathroom, but he had locked the inner door.

‘Papa.
Please, please
,'
but, ‘Mr Mullins,' John had said, ‘is going straight back to England.'

‘But John, why are you so hard?' Dahlia pleaded. ‘You're not usually so hard.'

‘Because usually I know what to expect, but I trusted Ted.' There were few people John Quillan trusted and Dahlia knew he was not only angry but hurt, deeply hurt and, ‘I don't want to see him again,' said John.

Ted knew it and shut himself out of sight. Now, ‘Mullins, open the door.'

It was the voice of authority. Dazed, Ted got up, drew back the bolts and opened the shutters, wincing at the light.

‘And what do you think you are doing? Or not doing?' asked Mr Leventine.

‘Doing?' mumbled Ted.

‘Why are you not with your charge? With Dark Invader?'

‘The… the Invader, sir?' Ted croaked. ‘I knew he had been found, thanks be. Mr Quillan sent me a note.' ‘I had to, in decency,' John said. ‘But I thought… thought he was out of the race, that he wouldn't race now.'

‘And what business have you in thinking? Who says he's out of the race?'

‘Then – he isn't?' Joy lit up Ted's face. ‘You mean he's fit! But… ' and the shame came back. ‘Anyway, I'm out.'

‘Who says so?'

‘Mr Quillan.'

‘Who employs you?' Mr Leventine's ‘Who?'s grew more and more regal. ‘I – or Mr Quillan?'

‘I suppose… you do, sir.'

‘Exactly,' said Mr Leventine. ‘You will take your orders from me, and at this moment they are that you will come with me in my car and get this… this animal out of this ridiculous situation and bring him immediately home.'

‘Me?' Ted sounded as if he could not believe his ears.

‘Who else?' and Mr Leventine, looking down at the little man who seemed to have shrunk even more and aged by twenty years, put a plump hand on the rigid shoulder and said, ‘I think no-one else but you can do it, Teddy.'

Far from grating on him, the silly little nickname heartened Ted as nothing else could have done. No-one since Ella had called him Teddy and Ted took his clean handkerchief out of his pocket – by habit he had a clean handkerchief every morning – used it, put it meticulously away and said, ‘I'm ready, sir.'

 

‘We call him Beauty,' Sister Joanna told Ted and Ted's chivalry rose to the occasion. ‘A good name for him, ma'am.'

‘Not ma'am. I'm a Sister.'

‘Ain't never had a sister.' It was an emotional evening for Ted, but that did not prevent him giving Dark Invader a thorough rating. ‘You shocker! That's what you are, a shocker.'

A secret fear had been removed from Ted; he could not help remembering, even though he had been fuddled, how Dark Invader had not greeted him that night. ‘Thought he had gone off me for Mr Saddick,' but when Ted gave his whistle across the Convent vegetable garden, Dark Invader pricked his ears. There was a loud whicker of welcome and the Invader tried to break away from Gulab and Sister Joanna. Ted had gone quickly to the rescue. ‘Shocker! Putting it on for these kind ladies. Never heard of such a thing, but don't think you can get away with it. You've been too kind to him, ma'am – Sister,' and, ‘You're coming home, my lad,' said Ted to Dark Invader who looked at him lovingly, a cabbage-leaf dangling from his lips – nothing had been nicer than the nibbles of fresh vegetables in the Convent garden, but, ‘Home'. Ted said it sternly and, recalling his war years, ‘Toot de sweet and the tooter the sweeter.'

‘But how do you think you'll get him there?' asked Sister Joanna.

‘Ride him, of course. Would you ask that man of yours to bring the saddle and bridle?' My saddle, Ted almost said, Ching didn't ought to have touched it, but remembering the reason, blushed and kept quiet and was glad that he had when John Quillan appeared with Gulab. He did not speak to Ted but gave him a leg up when Dark Invader had been saddled and bridled; he had not objected even when Ted tightened the girth. ‘He's wise enough to know when the game's up,' Ted told Sister Joanna. Once more in the saddle he gathered up the reins. ‘Say goodbye and thank you.'

‘But wouldn't it be safer,' Sister Ignatius said, ‘if we opened the garden gate and he went out that way?'

‘That wouldn't do,' said Mother Morag. ‘He must leave through the crowd,' and, ‘It will probably be
with
the crowd.'

The crowd was getting bigger, they could hear the rising hum and, ‘Can you manage him?' asked anxious Mr Leventine.

‘Gawd Almighty!' said Ted; back in the saddle with Dark Invader under him, that was almost the power he felt. ‘The Invader and I, ain't we used to crowds?' and he ran his finger in the familiar Ted gesture up the long line of Dark Invader's mane, but there was a doubt in Ted's mind. John Quillan had given Ted his chance, almost equally with Mr Leventine, gone along with him all the way and, though John now was silent, hostile, Ted was not taking Dark Invader out without his permission and, ‘Mr Quillan, sir?' asked Ted. It was a beseeching.

John raised his head and perhaps only Dahlia could have told what the quirk of a smile he gave Ted meant, and, ‘Go to it, Ted,' said John.

 

‘Almost as big a crowd as for the Cup,' said John.

There had been no trouble, no Invader antics. Mother Morag had pulled his ears and given him a most un-nun-like slap on the rump. Sister Joanna had whispered, ‘We shall miss you, Beauty,' and Ted had ridden him out of the vegetable garden, through the courtyard, past the rows of nuns, past Gulab who, with a swollen nose, was standing guard over the stable where Strawberry was eating his supper, past Dil Bahadur who saluted, and into the crowd which parted respectfully then, as Mother Morag had predicted, arranged itself to accompany them up the road. Bunny had driven up – ‘I thought it wise to ask him,' said Mother Morag – and he controlled the concourse, but Ted sat easily, using the long rein. Only once did he jerk it when Dark Invader nosed too eagerly for the jilipis and sweets that were offered. Marigolds were thrown down too and both were garlanded. Dark Invader put his head down graciously as if flowers were his due, but Ted turned a deeper bronze and hunched his shoulders. Sadiq and Ali followed, chastened, and as they neared the Quillan stables, the bandar-log came dancing down, and, as Ted dismounted, Dahlia, who was waiting by Dark Invader's stall, threw her arms round Ted's neck and kissed him.

 

‘A little fast work tomorrow morning,' John gave Ted his orders, as if nothing had happened, thought Ted. ‘You can take him as far as the four furlong mark. Ching can pace you with Flashlight. Repeat on Christmas Day, then, on the morning of the race, a two furlong sprint just to clear his wind. Got that?' asked John.

‘Yes sir,' said Ted.

 

Sir Humphrey met Mr Leventine on Christmas Day in the billiard room where both had taken refuge – sanctuary, thought Mr Leventine.

‘Well, how are you, Leventine?'

‘Thank you. I'm in clover.'

‘Hear you had some trouble with your horse down on the course.'

‘Just nemesis,' Mr Leventine waved his hand. ‘We were foolish enough to let another jockey try him.'

‘Doesn't answer so close to the race. Hope it hasn't impaired his chances.'

‘We still hope to turn a nimble shilling on him.'

The Judge looked slightly astonished but only said, ‘Well, good wishes for the day.'

‘Bless you, Sir Humphrey,' said Mr Leventine.

 

The Sisters had made a small crib in the Chapel. ‘In the excitement I had almost forgotten tomorrow is Christmas Eve,' and Dahlia brought the bandar-log to see it.