The start for the two-and-a-half-mile handicap hurdle was in front of the stands and the horses would have to complete two full circuits of the rectangular course, jumping five hurdles on each one.

The starter dropped his flag as the horses moved towards him, and they were off. There was no hanging back at the rear for the red-and-blue colours on this occasion, and Jimmy settled Ricardian in about fifth place as the horses galloped away from us towards the first flight of hurdles.

Over the next three hurdles, the field remained closely bunched and the pace was sensible, with no one wanting to overexert themselves too soon. As they swung sharply left-handed into the home straight for the first time, Ricardian appeared to be travelling well in fourth place and the crowd gave them all a cheer as they passed the winning post with still a full circuit to go.

Down the back for the second time, the pace quickened and some of the outsiders began to lose touch with the leading pack. Sedgefield is an undulating track and the constant ups and downs can unbalance even the best of horses. As the leading group of five, including Ricardian, turned for home, some of the others were already pulling up.

The finishing straight is initially downhill but then with a steep incline in the final half a furlong up to the line. Ricardian made the most of the downhill section, closing up and jumping the second-to-last flight of hurdles in third place. Jimmy then switched him to the stand-side rail, where he found firmer ground, and he passed the second horse as they ran towards the last, before producing a mighty leap at the final hurdle, overtaking the leader in the air, before running up the hill to win easily by three lengths.

Jimmy Shilstone had just provided a master class in how to ride the perfect waiting race, and he and Ricardian were duly cheered into the unsaddling enclosure by the crowd, many of whom had clearly backed the favourite to win.

Waiting for them there were Harry Asquith and his family, together with Simon Paulson. Little Henry was almost jumping up and down with excitement, but I wasn’t sure whether his elation at Ricardian’s victory was shared by his grandfather, who remained somewhat tight-lipped. Simon Paulson, in contrast, seemed neither content nor disappointed by the victory.

Jimmy slid down off the horse’s back and undid the girths. But he wasn’t smiling as he removed his saddle, and he walked off towards the weighing room to weigh in without looking back. Neither the owner nor the trainer appeared to say anything to him—no word of congratulation on a well-ridden race, nor any terse reprimand for winning when he shouldn’t have.

No doubt, the second of those would come later, in private.

I had positioned myself close to the rail, close enough to call out.