Bloodline

‘Cue Mark.’

‘Congratulations Austin Reynolds, trainer of Tortola Beach. A great run.’

I pushed the microphone towards his mouth.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Very pleasing.’

‘You said on the Morning Line earlier today that you were confident he would stay the seven-furlong trip, and so it has turned out. Do you think this confirms that his last run at Doncaster, when he faded so badly near the finish, was just a one-off anomaly?’

He looked at me with a certain degree of loathing in his eyes.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m sure it was.’

‘So will he run in the Two Thousand Guineas next year?’

‘Quoted at twelve-to-one for the Guineas by Corals,’ Neville said into my ear.

‘That’s the plan,’ said Austin.

‘I hear he’s currently being quoted at twelve-to-one for the Guineas by Corals,’ I said. ‘Do you think that’s a fair price?’

‘A bit short, I’d have said. He only started at tens today.’

Yes, I thought. And I wondered if part of the reason for ‘stopping’ the horse at Doncaster had been to get his starting price nice and long for this race.

‘Mark, OK, wrap the interview. Link to Iain for Ascot presentations.’

‘Thank you, Austin,’ I said, turning away from him and back to the camera. ‘And now, over to Iain Ferguson at Ascot for the presentations for their third race.’

‘Cue Iain,’ said the director and the camera’s red light went out in front of me.

I would have loved to have asked Austin Reynolds, right there and then, who he thought might be blackmailing him, and why, but I didn’t particularly want everyone else in the country to overhear his answers.

I decided to have a word with him later, after the transmission was over, and after my microphone had been removed.

The programme went to another commercial break while the cameraman covered the Newmarket trophy presentation, which was recorded in the scanner.

‘Mark,’ Neville said, ‘on return discuss the Two Thousand Guineas ante-post market caption, and then we’ll go to the VT of our trophy presentation. Coming back to you in five, four, three, two, one, cue Mark.’

I looked into the lens. ‘Welcome back to Newmarket where the place is still buzzing from that spectacular win by Tortola Beach. So let us look at the ante-post market for the Two Thousand Guineas next May.’ The graphic appeared on the screen and I went through the list, Tortola Beach now being quoted as joint sixth favourite. The graphic disappeared and I looked back into the camera lens. ‘And now we have the Millions Trophy presentation to the connections of Tortola Beach.’

‘Cue VT.’

The recently recorded footage of the trophy presentation was broadcast as I voiced-over it live while, at the same time, I had the director and producer wittering away in my ear. ‘Mark, Scoop6 update please — after four legs there are only twenty-six tickets still left in. Then hand over to Iain at Ascot. Back to you in picture in five, four, three, two, one, cue Mark.’

And so it went on, relentlessly, right through until twenty past four, when the production assistant finally said ‘shut-up’ and we could all relax.

‘Well done, everybody,’ said Neville. ‘Good job. See you all back here next week for Future Champions Day.’

‘Wow!’ said Emily when I went over to her. ‘I had no idea.’ The sound engineer had wired her up and she’d been listening to the chatter on the talk-back. ‘It’s amazing.’

‘It certainly is,’ I agreed. ‘Those Hollywood film stars have no idea how easy they have it, doing multiple takes until they get it right, and having breaks between scenes to learn their lines. I tell you, there’s nothing quite like live television to concentrate the mind.’

‘I could concentrate your mind,’ Emily said seductively.

We went to Clare’s cottage.

I didn’t think Clare would have minded as she was always telling me to get a proper girlfriend. And Emily’s place at Royston was simply too far away. We were both more eager than that.

I had intended seeking out Austin Reynolds to ask him more about the blackmailer but that, too, had been postponed due to the urgency of our more basic human urges.

We hardly made it up the stairs to the guest bedroom but, in the end, our lovemaking was gentle and tender, though not without passion and hunger.

For both of us it was a journey of exploration, a trip into new territory and I, for one, found the experience hugely satisfying.

‘Wow!’ Emily said again, lying back on the bed. ‘A day full of surprises.’