Longshot. Part 61

'Did you drop it on the path back?' Mackie asked sympathetically.

'No-' He thought about it. 'I must have left it where we had lunch. I hung it on a branch to keep it from getting damp. I just forgot it.'

He was upset enough for me to say, 'I'll get it tomorrow afternoon.'

'Will you?' Disaster swung back to hope. 'Oh, great.'

Tremayne said doubtfully, 'Will you find one little camera hanging in all those square miles of nothing?'

'Of course he will,' Gareth told him confidently. 'I told you, we left a trail. And oh!' He thought of something. 'Isn't it lucky I dropped all the paint, because now you can see where the trail starts, because we didn't paint any trees once we could see the road.'

'Do explain,' Mackie said.

Gareth explained.

'Will you really find the trail?' Mackie asked me, shaking her head.

'As long as someone hasn't parked on the patch of paint and taken it all away on their tyres.'

'Oh, no,' Gareth said, anguished.

'Don't worry,' I told him. 'I'll find your camera if it's still in the clearing.'

'It is. I'm sure. I remember hanging it up.'

'All right then,' Tremayne said. 'Let's talk about something else.'

'Grub?' Gareth asked hopefully. 'Pizza?'

CHAPTER 16.

On Monday morning, first lot, I was back on Drifter.

'He's entered in a race at Worcester the day after tomorrow,' Tremayne said, as we walked out to the yard at seven in the half-dawn. 'Today's his last training gallop before that, so don't fall off again. The vet's been here already this morning to test his blood.'

Tremayne's vet took small blood samples of all the stable's runners prior to their last training gallop before they raced, the resulting detailed a.n.a.lysis being able to reveal a whole host of things from a raised lymphocyte count to excreted enzymes due to muscle damage. If there were too many centra-indications in the blood the vet would advise Tremayne that the horse was unlikely to run well or win. Tremayne said the process saved the owners from wasting money on fruitless horsebox expenses and jockey fees and also saved himself a lot of inexplicable and worrying disappointments.

'Are you going to Worcester yourself?' I asked.

'Probably. Might send Mackie. Why?'

'Er... I wondered if I could go to see Drifter race.'

He turned his head to stare at me as if he couldn't at once comprehend my interest, but then, understanding, said of course I could go if I wanted to.

'Thanks.'

'You can gallop Fringe this morning, second lot.'

'Thanks again.'

'And thanks to you for giving Gareth such a good day yesterday.'

'I enjoyed it.'

We reached the yard and stood watching the last preparations as usual.

'That's a good camera,' Tremayne said regretfully. 'Stupid boy.'

'I'll get it back.'

'Along his precious trail?' He was doubtful.

'Maybe. But I had a map and a compa.s.s with me yesterday. I know pretty well where we went.'

He smiled, shaking his head. 'You're the most competent person. Like Fiona says, you put calamities right.'

'It's not always possible.'

'Give Drifter a good gallop.'

We went up to the Downs and at least I stayed in the saddle, and felt indeed a new sense of being at home there, of being at ease. The strange and difficult was becoming second nature in the way that it had when I'd learned to fly. Racehorses, helicopters; both needed hands responsive to messages reaching them, and both would usually go where you wanted if you sent the right messages back.

Drifter flowed up the gallop in a smooth fast rhythm and Tremayne said he would have a good chance at Worcester if his blood was right.

When I'd left the horse in the yard and gone in for breakfast I found both Mackie and Sam Yaeger sitting at the table with Tremayne, all of them discussing that day's racing at Nottingham. The horse that Tremayne had been going to run had gone lame, and another of Sam's rides had been withdrawn because its owner's wife had died.

'I've only got a no-hoper left,' Sam complained. 'It's not b.l.o.o.d.y worthwhile going. Reckon I'll catch flu and work on the boat.' He telephoned forthwith, made hoa.r.s.e-voiced excuses and received undeserved sympathy. He grinned at me, putting down the receiver. 'Where's the toast, then?'

'Coming.'

'I hear you played cowboys and Indians all over Berkshire with Gareth and Coconut yesterday.'

'News travels,' I said resignedly.

'I told him,' Mackie said, smiling. 'Any objections?'

I shook my head and asked her how she was feeling. She'd stopped riding out with the first lot because of nausea on waking, and Tremayne, far from minding, continually urged her to rest more.

'I feel sick,' she said to my enquiry. 'Thank goodness.'

'Lie down, my dear girl,' Tremayne said.

'You all fuss too much.

Sam said to me, 'Doone spent all Sat.u.r.day afternoon at the boatyard.'