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??Roncey insisted that,lo pro boots, I should stay to lunch and filled in the time beforehand with a brisk but endless account of
all the horses he had ever owned. Over lunch, cold beef and pickles and cheese and biscuits served at two-thirty on the
kitchen table,ugg rainier, it was still he who did all the talking. The boys ate steadily in silence and Madge contemplated the
middle distance with eyes which saw only the scenes going on hi her head.
??When I left shortly afterwards Pat asked for a lift into Bishops Stortford and braved his father’s frown to climb
into the front seat of the van. Roncey shook hands firmly as before and said he hoped to receive a free copy of Tally.
‘Of course,’ I said. But Tally were notoriously mean: I would have to send it myself.
??He waved me out of the yard and told Pat brusquely to come straight back on the four o’clock bus, and we were
barely out through the sagging gateposts before Pat unburdened himself of a chunk of bottled resentment.
??’He treats us like children… Ma’s no help, she never listens…’
??’You could leave here,’ I pointed out. ‘You’re what -nineteen?’
??’Next month. But I can’t leave and he knows it. Not if I want to race. I can’t turn professional yet, I’m not well
enough known and no one would put me up on their horses. I’ve got to start as an amateur and make a name for myself,
Pa says so. Well I couldn’t be an amateur if I left home and got an ordinary job somewhere, I couldn’t afford all the
expenses and I wouldn’t have any time.’
??’A job in a stable… ‘ I suggested.
??’Do me a favour. The rules say you can’t earn a salary in any capacity in a racing stable and ride as an amateur, not
even if you’re a secretary or an assistant or anything. It’s bloody unfair. And don’t say I could get a job as a lad and do
my two and have a professional licence, of course I could. And how many lads ever get far as jockeys, doing that?
None. Absolutely none. You know that.’
??I nodded.
??’I do a lad’s work now, right enough. Six horses, we’ve got, and I do the bloody lot. Old Joe’s the only labour we’ve
got on the whole farm, except us, believe it or not. Pa’s always got a dozen jobs lined up for him. And I wouldn’t mind
the work, and getting practically no pay, I really wouldn’t, if Pa would let me ride in anything except point-to-points,
but he won’t, he says I haven’t enough experience, and if you ask me he’s making bloody sure I never get enough
experience… I’m absolutely fed up, I’ll tell you straight.’
??He brooded over his situation all the way into Bishops Stortford. A genuine grievance, I thought. Victor Roncey
was not a father to help his sons get on.
??
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??4
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??They held the inquest on Bert Checkov on that Monday afternoon. Verdict: Misadventure. Dead drunk he was,
said the girl typists who saw him fall. Dead drunk.
??And after he hit the pavement, just dead.
??When I went into the office on Tuesday morning, Luke-John and Derry were discussing whether or not to go to the
funeral on the Wednesday.
??’Croxley,’ Derry said. ‘Where’s that?’
??’Near Watford,’ I said. ‘On the Metropolitan Line. A straight run into Farringdon Street.’
??’What Fleet Street needs,’ said Derry gloomily, ‘is a tube station a lot nearer than blooming Farringdon. It’s
three-quarters of a mile if it’s an inch.’
??’If you’re right, Ty,ugg bailey button, we can manage it easily,’ Luke-John said authoritatively. ‘We should all go, I think.’
??Derry squinted at the small underground map in his diary. ‘Croxley. Next to Watford. What do you know?’
??I’d had a girl at Watford once. The second one. I’d spent a lot of time on the Metropolitan Line while Elizabeth was
under the impression I was extra busy in the Blaze. Guilt and deceit were old familiar travelling companions. From

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