Maddy sagged against him. For a second she longed to be back in the relative anonymity of Milton St John, and away from all this pomp and circumstance. She wanted Caroline to be fermenting, or whatever it was she did, her wines in the wilds of Jersey. She wanted to be back in her scruffy comfortable clothes drinking coffee with Drew in her odd-shaped kitchen with the cool misty rain sweeping from the Downs.

The list of runners and riders for the Woodcote Stakes was being hauled on to the board on the far side of the course. Suzy’s name and number in red on white indicated her apprentice status.

‘Next year she’ll have lost her allowance and be riding as a full jockey,’ Drew said. ‘She’s so determined, that next year she could even be riding in The Derby.’

Maddy looked at Suzy’s name and realised with a guilty pang that she hadn’t even asked about her. ‘Is she OK this morning? Not too nervous?’

‘Not at all. She’s very hyped up. Kit and Rosa adore her and Dock of the Bay is in love with her.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I really should be going down to the paddock. Are you coming?’

‘Caroline will be there, so I’d rather not. I do want to, you know that, but Mum and Dad want me to watch the race with them, of course – oh, goodness. Look.’ Maddy watched the last of the runners and riders being listed. Luke’s name had appeared. ‘I haven’t even opened my race card. I didn’t know they’d be riding against each other.’

‘It’ll make a change.’ Drew pulled her against him, making the huge green hat dip alarmingly. ‘I’ll give her your love, then, shall I?’

‘Please.’ She was very close to him. ‘And I’ll see you later …’

He kissed her, to the delight of the bookies and the Channel Four team who were just scanning the crowd and getting a distinct feeling of deja vu. Several people clapped. Maddy didn’t care.

She was still floating when she found her parents and the Pughs in the Grandstand. She’d put a reckless twenty pounds on Suzy at the Tote window, then a further five to win with a florid-faced bookmaker in the enclosure who was offering optimistic odds of 25 to 1 on Dock of the Bay’s chances. She’d be reduced to bread and water for the rest of the month – always assuming the water board didn’t cut her off.

Pressed against the rails between her parents, she cried openly as Suzy, in the Pedersens’ grey and pink colours, cantered down the course to the six furlong start. The commentator barked across the downs, the bookmakers shrieked the odds – Luke was hot favourite – and the tension mounted.