Free Taking the Fall by A.P. McCoy

female jockey had competed on equal terms in the Grand National, and the television company had responded by commissioning a former model – but one with a family background in racing – to co-anchor their racing programme. Her name was Mandy Gleeson. Duncan had seen her interviewing jockeys on the TV. She was no slouch. She knew her stuff all right.
    Duncan stayed out of the banter. His nerves only expressed themselves inwardly. He liked instead to get focused and descended in on himself. He didn’t like to talk much with anyone before a race.
    The weigh-in was sound – but only just, thanks to more pee pills. What with the big one at Kempton coming up on Boxing Day, there wasn’t going to be much of the turkey and pudding for him. Outside in the paddock, Petie was waiting. At 10–1 Wellbeing was not much fancied. He was on the small side, with legs that didn’t seem all that well constructed. He was also physically nondescript. He didn’t stand out, not in any sense, and the average punter trying to size him up would probably consider him physically average or below average.
    But Petie Quinn wasn’t your average punter, and Duncan too knew that this horse had reserves. In the parade ring Petie told him just to go for it and gave him a leg-up on to the horse. Duncan made his way to the start, where there was a white camera van ready to track the race from the rail. Something about it spooked Wellbeing, but Duncan walked him round a few times and the horse settled.
    Wellbeing got off to a strong start. Duncan knew that whatever he decided, the horse was going to take some holding. He was straining to get out there in front. Duncan felt that sudden and familiar knock of blood to the brain where the instincts took over. Petie had said to let him fly. Wellbeing didn’t need asking. Duncan let him go and the horse streamed out there in front. It was glorious. From that moment early in the race Duncan knew he’d got it won. The horse was like a flag in the wind and Duncan felt like he was doing nothing more than holding the pole. His own heartbeat and the pounding of hooves underfoot were inseparable.
    Wellbeing led the whole way round. Nothing else in the race had an answer. In fact Duncan eased up well before the post because he was afraid the margin of victory combined with the outside odds might have looked suspicious to the stewards. As it was, he had nothing to worry about.
    ‘Would you believe that?’ Petie said to him back in the paddock. ‘Would you believe that? We’ll be looking for a better class of race for this fella!’
    Duncan jumped down. He was still patting the horse when he saw a camera crew heading towards him across the winners’ enclosure. They were being led by Mandy Gleeson. She held a microphone with a furry windsock, like it was a torch lighting the way in front of her.
    ‘Here’s the press,’ Duncan said.
    Petie turned and looked startled. ‘Oh, fuck that,’ he said, and scuttled away, leaving Duncan to handle things.
    ‘Where you going?’ Duncan called after him. But Petie had already melted into the crowd.
    It was the first time Duncan had had a microphone stuffed under his nose like that. He was still holding Wellbeing by the rein. Mandy Gleeson was a tall, dark-haired beauty and she fixed him with intelligent eyes. A breeze blew her hair across her face and she smiled as she scraped it back with an elegant fingernail. ‘Just having a word now with the jockey, Duncan Claymore: Duncan you had it from the off.’
    ‘Sure enough, we knew what the horse was capable of, but even we were a bit surprised. I just steered him home.’
    ‘Modest, I’m sure. You’re having a good few days and let’s hope it continues for you. Perhaps we can have a word with the trainer when he gets here? Tell us a bit about him.’
    Duncan cast about to see where Petie had gone. The cameraman and the sound man circled. ‘Petie Quinn is a terrific trainer and you’ll be hearing a lot more about him.