‘That wasn’t bad luck,’ said one of the young men sourly. ‘Just stupidity.’

Clive gathered himself just enough to introduce me.

‘I hear you’re in the army,’ I said.

‘Officers in the Royal Lancers,’ one of them replied proudly. ‘Queen Elizabeth’s Own.’

‘Lancers?’ I said. ‘Surely you don’t fight with lances?’

‘We did once, on horseback, but now we’re mechanised,’ said another. ‘Reconnaissance light tanks. But we’re still considered to be cavalry.’

‘Death or Glory,’ boldly claimed the third, even if his words were slightly slurred.

No glory today in that race, I thought. But thankfully, no death either.

The trio went on towards the owners’ bar, while I managed to steer Clive away for a quiet word.

‘So, next time, will you pay the trainers’ premium?’ I asked him.

He stopped and stared at me. ‘No, I bloody won’t. Why should I pay anything to some jumped-up bullies who do nothing for racing except bleed it dry? I hate the agents.’

So say all the bosses of every football club too, I thought, but it wasn’t going to make them go away from that sport either.

‘How could someone have deliberately left me in the lurch like that? We’d all be in a mess if booked jockeys don’t turn up when they are supposed to.’

‘You should count yourself lucky,’ I said. ‘They burned down Gary Bremner’s stable yard when he wouldn’t pay.’

‘What!’ Clive was truly shocked. ‘Is that why he killed himself?’

‘That’s if he actually did kill himself,’ I replied. ‘And I have serious doubts about that.’

Clive was shocked again.

‘So what are you going to do about it?’ he asked.

‘Me? Why should I care? You’re the trainer. What are you going to do?’

‘I’ll report it to the racing authorities,’ he said confidently.

‘On what grounds?’ I asked. ‘The Authority has made it quite clear that the financial arrangements concerning a jockey and his agent is nothing to do with them, and it should be negotiated directly between the parties without them getting involved.’

‘But that surely doesn’t include the trainers.’

‘I bet it does. And I’m sure that many of the jockeys, maybe all of them, would agree that the trainer should pay some of the agent’s fee rather than all of it coming out of their pay.’

‘Whose side are you on?’

‘Neither side. I’m just stating the facts.’

‘But what happened here today was nothing short of blackmail.’

‘I agree, and that was appalling.’

So too, I thought, was Gary’s claim that the agents did far more than simply charge the trainers a fee—they also directed the running of the horses.

‘Was this the first time you’ve had a run-in with a jockeys’ agent?’ I asked.

‘What do you mean?’ Clive responded.

‘Have any of them demanded money from you before?’