Removing the hat at the request of a whiskery lady behind her who was sweating profusely inside a beige pac-a-mac, Maddy craned her neck and squinted at the Prince’s Stand. Overlooking the home straight, it was the special reserve of owners and trainers. Drew would be there with Caroline. Was he scouring the crowds below, trying to pick out a dot in ludicrously expensive green?

She watched the loading into the stalls on the huge screen that spread eagled the downs. Suzy looked so very frail, but was smiling all the time, especially at Luke in dark blue and yellow as they continually circled past each other.

The race started. Mrs Beckett was screaming encouragement long before the commentator had bellowed. ‘They’re off!’, but this was swallowed up in the sort of tidal roar that raised goose bumps. Maddy stuffed her fingers in her mouth and prayed.

The ten runners were bunched together, moving like a multi-coloured arrow, then suddenly spearheaded by blue and yellow. The crowd were screaming for Luke. Obviously unable to let him out of her sight, Suzy, in pink and grey, zoomed forward. Dock of the Bay became a glossy brown blur. Luke and Suzy were neck and neck. Maddy’s stomach had disappeared. She could feel the thundering of hoofs beneath her feet, smell the divots of turf as they flew through the air, heard her mother’s yells becoming hoarser and her father’s shouts becoming higher pitched. Maddy thought incessantly of Drew.

They swept past, blue and yellow and pink and grey momentarily clamped together as closely as they were off the racecourse. An explosion of sound split the air as they reached the winning post. It had been the longest minute of Maddy’s life.

The commentator’s voice was completely obliterated. Through swimming eyes, Maddy looked at her parents. White faced, they shook their heads. Then the announcement: ‘First, number three, second, number ten …’

They looked at each other in speechless delight for a moment and then started laughing and crying and hugging each other. ‘She’s won! She’s bloody won!’ The whiskery lady who had backed Frankie Dettori snorted, tore up her betting slip, and marched away.

‘Winner’s enclosure,’ Mr Beckett said gruffly. ‘And bloody quickly.’

Having practically punched their way through the crowds, they stood pressed against the rails. Drew and the Pedersens were wearing ear-to-ear grins of delight. Caroline was looking coolly enthusiastic. Suzy, who had weighed in, appeared not to know where or who she was as the media pounced with bristling microphones. Digging her nails into the flaking white wood, Maddy shook. Drew raised his head and found her eyes. The message was crystal clear.