Forever Is Over (75 page)

We walked down to Town Green t
rain station and jumped on the
Merseyrail train to Ormskirk, a ten minute trip with just one stop at
Aughton Park. Caroline wanted to let off steam about Donna, but
the way she wanted to constantly divert the conversation back to her
lovelife, seemed to me to indicate that this was more a lovers tiff than
a break up.

We met Dad as arranged outside the Brahms & Liszt wine bar,
which was literally just across the road from the bookmakers. Dad was
surprised to see Caroline walking up Moorgate with me.

“
Hi love,
”
he said to Caroline,
“
what are you doing back?
”

Dad kissed her cheek.

“
I just decided I would spend my holidays with the family, Dad. I
wanted to have some quality time with you all.
”

“
Good. Your Mum will be pleased. What are you doing with
Richie?
”

“
I just thought it would be fun to spend the afternoon with him.
”

Dad pulled a face.

“
It
’
s just that Richie and I have some business to attend to, love.
You may have to go to Taylor
’
s for a coffee for an hour and then he
’
ll
be all yours.
”

Caroline smiled.

“
Dad, calm down! Richie
’
s told me what
’
s going on! I will be the
soul of discretion. The rest of the Billinghams won
’
t hear anything about
this from me, especially Mum. I
’
ve never been into a bookies before, it
sounds like fun!
”

“
It
’
s not a place for young girls, love. It
’
s full of old men smoking.
”

Caroline looked like she was seething inside, but managed to control
her temper. She was determined to come with us and knew if she lost her temper and stormed off, Dad would be getting what he wanted.

“
Dad, it
’
s a bookmakers, not a strip joint or a peep show. I wouldn
’
t
have thought there
’
d be any women in there firing ping pong balls out
their jacksies! I
’
m sure I
’
ll be able to handle it! Come on, let
’
s go!
”

Caroline lead the way over the road to Stanley Racing. Dad rolled
his eyes and whispered to me,

“
What did you bring her for?
”

I whispered back,
“
I couldn
’
t stop her!
”

The bookmakers, as Dad had forecast, was a cloud of smoke. There
were about twenty people in there before us, nineteen men and one old
woman who was chain smoking her
own roll-ups. She was smoking
them until they almost burnt her tongue. She was probably younger
than she looked, which wasn
’
t hard as she looked like she was about
one hundred and thirty. Her face had more wrinkles than the skin of a
hot chocolate. The men were all ages from eighteen to eighty eight, but
all looked like desperation to escape poverty was their motivator. I
’
m
sure the wealthy gamble fortunes at Cheltenham and Royal Ascot, but
that type of gambler was not visiting Stanley Racing in Ormskirk on
a drizzly, damp Thursday afternoon. The Stanley threw its arms wide
open to Society
’
s outcasts. Those who questioned evolution by asking
where were the transitional phases between monkey and man, only had
to witness the reprobates in Stanley Racing on a Thursday afternoon.

The only smartly dressed man in Stanley Racing that afternoon
was my father. Despite not obeying the dress code of torn top and paint
splattered jeans or charity shop rejects perfumed in body odour, Dad
was a fully accepted member of this oddball clan. Everyone greeted Dad
warmly or nodded their hellos and the cash assistants and manageress
all greeted Dad by name.

“
Hi Charlie! How was the steak and kidney pie?
”

Sheila, the
manageress asked, revealing that this wasn
’
t Dad
’
s first visit to Stanley
’
s
that day. Dad looked uncomfortable with
this revelation, but Caroline
loved it.

“
Is this your first visit here too, Dad?
”
she mocked.

It was now ten minutes to two, Florida Diamond was running
at two o
’
clock. There was another race at Uttoxeter taking place, so
everyone gathered around the screens as an excited commentator belted
out his commentary. There was a tight finish, so half a dozen punters
came to life as three horses jumped the last fence (or hurdle, I can
’
t
remember which) in line.

“
Go on
‘
End Of Reason
’
! Give him a crack O
’
Leary!
”
yelled one
bloke.

“
Whip his arse, McKenzie!
”
urged another.

These guys were unlikely to be
paid up members of the RSPCA!

             
Once the horses reached the winning post, one guy jumped up and
down, the others cursed and ripped up their betting slips. Dad pulled
me over to a corner.

“
Listen Richie, if we win these races, whatever you do, do NOT
celebrate like old Welby did there. The guys know him and will let him
have his moment of glory, but they know he
’
ll have only had a couple of
quid on. If you start celebrating like a fool and they see you picking up
over a grand, it just takes one of them to decide he needs it more than
you and they
’
ll have it off you before you can say
‘
Red Rum
’
.
”

“
Thanks Dad!
”
I replied.
“
Here was I worrying about losing and
now you
’
ve got me worrying if I win too!
”

“
Just keep your mouth shut son and you
’
ll be fine. Come on, I
’
ll
show you how to write the slip out for the double.
”

I was expecting some sort of complex bet completion process, but
it was just a case of writing
£
350 win double on Florida Diamond
and Quartz Starr and the times of their races, Wincanton 2.00 and
Wincanton 2.30. The only com
plicated bit was the taxation.

             
“
Are you going to pay the tax, son?
”
Dad asked.

“
I get taxed for betting on a horse! There
’
ll be a toilet tax soon or a
fresh air tax! I can
’
t believe they tax betting!
”

“
Well, they do.
”
Dad responded not empathising with me at all.

“
You
’
ve got a choice, you either pay tax on your bet, 10% of your stake,
or you don
’
t pay the tax at all and they take 10% of your winnings off
you.
”

I did a quick calculation.

“£
35 tax on the bet or a
£
140 tax on the win! It
’
ll have to be on the
win, I haven
’
t got
£
35!
”

“
You could lower your stake.
”
Dad explained.

“
No. Let them tax me if I win. I
’
d still have
£
1 260. I
can handle
that.
”

“
You say that now, but I haven
’
t met a winner yet who hasn
’
t wished
he
’
d put more on and paid the tax!
”

Once I
’
d completed the slip, I went to the queue to put my bet on.
There was one person in front of me
…
.CAROLINE!
”

“
Cal, what are you doing?
”

“
What
’
s it look like I
’
m doing? I
’
m having a bet!
”

“
How did you know what to do?
”

“
Margaret showed me!
”

Caroline waved over to the old dear with the face like the skin of hot
chocolate. Margaret waved back with h
er yellow fingers and roll-up.
Five minutes later, despite the warnings from Dad, I was shouting
on
‘
Florida
Diamond
’
at the top of my voice, as
‘
Fingers
’
Marling came out from
the slipstream of the grey horse that had been in the lead the whole way
and suddenly told
‘
Florida Diamond
’
to
“
GO!
”
The horse reacted like it
had been injected with bionic powers and scooted clear.

“
GO ON THE DIAMOND!!
”
I yelled, as it left the rest of the
field eating dust,
“
YOU BEAUTY!
”

I did a victory dance as it crossed the line, too fuelled with delight to remember my instructions.

“
Did you have that one then?
”
asked a bearded bloke next to me
with a beer belly big enough to store sextruplets. I rembered my responsibilities.

“
Me? No.
”
I replied.
“
My sister did though.
”

IVF man looked over at Caroline who was tearing her betting slip
up and mumbling to herself about two quid going down the drain.

“
She backed two horses,
”
I explained.

Once again, Dad dragged me to a corner of the shop. Even Dad
was getting excited.

“
What did I tell you, son, what did I tell you? Just less of the Hokey
cokey, Richie, remember what I said about playing it cool?
”

Cool? I thought. How can I keep it cool? In just over half an hour,

I will be collecting over a thousand pounds and heading out of here with
pockets stuffed with notes, to book my trip to Singapore! Raffles Hotel,
here I come! In forty eight hours, I would be ordering a Singapore Sling
and a bottle of champagne with two glasses for me and my gorgeous
girlfriend!

“
Oh my God! It
’
s Richie! I can
’
t believe you
’
ve come! Thank you
so, so much! You
’
ve come all this way to see me, how can I ever thank
you?
”

Thirty minutes between races when you have seven hundred quid
rolling on to an evens favourite is too long. Twenty nine minutes and
fifty nine seconds too long! As soon as
‘
Florida Diamond
’
flashed past
the winning post, I wanted the next race to start. I was on a high
and wanted it to continue before reality kicked me in my surviving
testicle.