"He"s running to get out," Matthew shouted. "Let"s head him off."
It was almost a game to him, but his enthusiasm infected several other racegoers who had come early out of the races and found their windows in splinters.
"Head him off," I heard a man shout, and another "There, over there. Head him off."
I leaned in hopeless weakness against a car, and dimly watched. Carthy-Todd caught sight of the growing number converging on him. Hesitated. Changed course. Doubled back on his tracks. Made for the only free and open s.p.a.ce he could see. The green gra.s.s behind him. The racecourse itself.
"Don"t..." I said. It came out a whisper, and even if I"d had a microphone he wouldn"t have heard.
"Oh G.o.d," Nancy said beside me. "Oh no."
Carthy-Todd didn"t see his danger until it was too late. He ran blindly out across the course looking over his shoulder at the bunch of men who had suddenly, aghast, stopped chasing him.
He ran straight in front of the thundering field of three year olds sweeping round the last bend to their final flying effort up the straight.
Close bunched, they had no chance of avoiding him. He went down under the pounding hooves like a rag into a threshing machine, and a second later the flowing line of horses broke up into tumbling chaos... crashing at thirty miles an hour... legs whirling... jockeys thudding to the ground like bright blobs of paint... a groaning shambles on the bright green turf... and side-stepping, swaying, looking over their shoulders, the rear ones in the field swerved past and went on to a finish that no one watched.
Nancy said in anguish, "Colin!" and ran towards the rails. The pink and white silks lay still, a crumpled bundle curled in a protective ball. I followed her, plod by plod, feeling that I couldn"t go any further, I simply couldn"t. One car short of the rails, I stopped. I clung on to it, sagging. The tide was going out.
The pink and white ball stirred, unrolled itself, stood up. Relief made me even weaker. Crowds of people had appeared on the course, running, helping, gawping... closing in like a screen round the strewn bodies... I waited for what seemed an age, and then Colin and Nancy reappeared through a thronging wall of people and came back towards the car park.
"Only stunned for a second," I heard him say to a pa.s.sing enquirer. "I shouldn"t go over there..." But the enquirer went on, looking avid.
Nancy saw me and waved briefly, and ducked under the rails with Colin.
"He"s dead," she said abruptly. She looked sick. "That man... he... he was Acey Jones... Colin said you knew... his hair was lying on the gra.s.s... but it was a wig... and there was this bald white head and that pale hair... and you could see the line of grease paint... and the black moustache..." Her eyes were wide. Full of horror.
"Don"t think about it," Colin said. He looked at me. "She shouldn"t have come over..."
"I had to... you were lying there," she protested. He went on looking at me. His expression changed. He said "Nancy said you were hurt. She didn"t say... how badly." He turned abruptly to Nancy and said "Fetch the doctor."
"I tried to before," she said. "But he said he was on duty and couldn"t see to Matt before the race in case he was needed..." She tailed off and looked over at the crowd on the course. "He"ll be over there... seeing to those two jockeys..." She looked back at Colin with sudden fright. "Midge said Matt had cut his arm... Is it worse...?"
"I"ll fetch him," Colin said grimly, and ran back to the battlefield. Nancy looked at me with such flooding anxiety that I grinned.
"Not as bad as all that," I said.
"But you were walking... you threw that bomb with such force... I didn"t realise... You do look ill..."
The Duke and young Matthew and Midge reappeared from somewhere. I hadn"t seen them come. Things were getting hazier.
The Duke was upset. "My dear chap," he said over and over again. "My dear chap..."
"How did you know it was a bomb?" Matthew asked.
"Just knew."
"That was a pretty good throw."
"Saved our lives," said the Duke. "My dear chap..."
Colin was back.
"He"s coming," he said. "Immediately."
"Saved our lives..." said the Duke again. "How can we repay..."
Colin looked at him straightly. "I"ll tell you how, sir. Set him up in business... or take over Derrydowns... give him an air taxi business, based near Newmarket. He"ll make you a a profit. He"ll have me for a customer, and Annie, and Kenny... and in fact the whole town, because the Fund can go on now, can"t it?" He looked at me enquiringly, and I fractionally nodded. "It may cost a bit to put right," Colin said, "But your Fund can go on, sir, and do all the good it was meant to..."
"An air taxi business. Take over Derrydowns," the Duke repeated. "My dear Colin, what a spendid idea. Of course. Of course."
I tried to say something... anything... to begin to thank him for so casually thrusting the world into my fingers... but I couldn"t say anything... couldn"t speak. I could feel my legs collapsing. Could do nothing any more to stop them. Found myself kneeling on the gra.s.s, keeping myself from falling entirely by hanging on to a door handle of the car. Didn"t want to fall. Hurt too much.
"Matt!" Nancy said. She was down on her knees beside me. Midge too. And Colin.
"Don"t b.l.o.o.d.y die," Nancy said.
I grinned at her. Felt light-headed. Grinned at Colin. Grinned at Midge.
"Want a lodger?" I asked.
"Soon as you like," Colin said.
"Nancy," I said. "Will you... will you..."
"You nit," she said. "You great nit."
My hand slipped out of the door handle. Colin caught me as I fell. Everything drifted quietly away, and by the time I reached the ground I couldn"t feel anything at all.
Books by d.i.c.k Francis
THE SPORT OF QUEENS (autobiography)
DEAD CERT.
NERVE.
FOR KICKS.
ODDS AGAINST.
FLYING FINISH.
BLOOD SPORT.
FORFEIT.
ENQUIRY.
RAT RACE.
BONECRACK.
SMOKESCREEN.
SLAY-RIDE.
KNOCK DOWN.
HIGH STAKES.
IN THE FRAME.
RISK.
TRIAL RUN.
WHIP HAND.
REFLEX.
TWICK SHY.
BANKER.
THE DANGER.
PROOF.
BREAK IN.
LESTER: The Official Biography BOLT.
HOT MONEY.
THE EDGE.
STRAIGHT.
LONGSHOT.
COMEBACK.
DRIVING FORCE.
DECIDER.
WILD HORSES.
COME TO GRIEF.
TO THE HILT.
IO-lb PENALTY FIELD OF THIRTEEN.
SECOND WIND.
SHATTERED.