‘Thank you so much for a fabulous lunch,’ I said to Nick and Claire. ‘Nick, I’ll see you in the parade ring later. Claire, I’m so sorry I don’t have a paddock badge for you.’
‘No problem,’ she said. ‘But I’ll get in there somehow if we win.’
‘You bet,’ I said with a laugh. ‘I must dash now as I’ve arranged to meet Owen Reynolds at half past one.’
‘Please come back after racing,’ Nick said. ‘Either to celebrate a win or to drown our sorrows. We’ll be here until late either way.’
‘That’s very kind,’ I said. ‘Let’s wait and see how we get on.’
I turned to go.
‘Can I come with you, Chester?’ Toni asked suddenly. ‘I promise I won’t be a nuisance, and it would be nice to be shown around by someone who really knows what’s going on.’
I smiled at her. ‘I’d be delighted to show you around, but we’ll have to go right now.’
‘I’m ready,’ she said.
We both hurried over to the enclosure entrance, queued for a minute to get through, and then went on through the Royal Enclosure Gardens, past the temporary restaurants and London club members’ tents and bars, towards the weighing room, where I had arranged to meet Owen.
I tried to take her along the horse walk under the bridge into the parade ring, but we were stopped by an official wearing a dark suit and a bowler hat, who asked to see our badges.
I showed him my owner/trainer badge.
‘And for the lady?’ he asked.
‘She’s with me,’ I said, trying to move on.
‘Sorry, sir,’ the man said firmly but politely, blocking the way. ‘If the lady has no badge, she cannot gain entry. You know the rules.’
‘Yes. Sorry.’
The security was indeed tighter than it looked.
We retraced our steps and went up the steps onto the upper level. People were already beginning to congregate around the parade ring in anticipation of the arrival of the royal family, but I found a space on the rail, near the steps down to the weighing room.
‘You stay here,’ I said to Toni. ‘Don’t move or you will lose your place. I have to go and briefly see the trainer of our horse, but I will come back here to join you.’
‘I’ll stay right here,’ she said, gripping the rail with both hands.
I rushed down the steps, hoping that Owen wouldn’t be late.
I wondered why I had bothered to arrange to meet him.
But I knew the answer. Because meeting up with my trainers before racing was what I usually did. It made me feel comfortable to know that everything was in order with the horses and there was no panic going on over forgotten colours or broken tack. Indeed, I always kept a set of Victrix silks and a spare bridle in the boot of my car, just to be on the safe side.
Perhaps I could have phoned him instead, but calls were often not easy to make on a racecourse, especially one as crowded as it was today. Getting a signal could be difficult with so many people making calls, sending texts, and sharing photos all at the same time, and the background noise of people talking or music playing through the public address system was a problem, even if you were able to get through. Face to face was always better anyway — I was then able to read their body language, which often told me more than their words.
Thankfully, Owen was there ahead of me.
‘Everything all right?’ I asked.
‘Absolutely fine,’ he replied. He appeared very relaxed, which was an encouraging sign. ‘Jimmy has rides in the first two races, the second for me in the Coventry, so we’ll get an accurate assessment of the going. It’s officially “good,” which suits us perfectly.’
‘Great,’ I said. ‘I’ll see you later then. In the saddling boxes.’
I went back up the steps to where I’d left Toni. The whole place had filled up noticeably, even in the few minutes I’d been away, and I had some difficulty getting to her.
‘I’ve been trying to save you some room,’ she said as I squeezed in beside her. ‘But everyone keeps pushing forward.’ She said it in a manner that implied that she could hardly believe that gentlemen in full morning dress and ladies in elegant frocks plus equally impressive millinery could act so much like a football crowd.
‘Thank you anyway,’ I said, personally quite enjoying the sensation of being pressed so close to her body.
I looked again at her Royal Enclosure badge with Mrs Antonia Beckett written on it in black ink.
‘Is there a Mr Beckett?’ I asked.
‘Not anymore,’ she replied, turning her head and looking straight at me. ‘Is there a Mrs Newton?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘There is.’
‘Huh, there would be.’ She looked away. ‘Goddammit. All the men I fancy these days are hitched.’
So she did fancy me.
I turned and faced forward, towards the parade ring, so that she wouldn’t see me blush beneath my top hat.
By the time two o’clock approached, there was not a single space to be found anywhere around the parade ring that provided any sort of view of where the Royal Procession would pass.
We watched on the big screen at the far end of the parade ring as, at two o’clock precisely, the first of four open-topped landau carriages made its way through the Golden Gate at the end of the straight mile.
‘Which one is the King in?’ Toni asked.
‘The front one. The one that the four Windsor Greys are pulling. The other three are pulled by Cleveland Bays.’
‘Do they come all the way from Windsor Castle in those?’
‘They did once upon a time, but these days they come most of the way in a fleet of cars and then get into the carriages just a short distance from the racecourse.’
We watched on the TV as the procession made its sedate passage down the centre of the racetrack, with the horses trotting. Each carriage was driven by two postilion riders wearing their special Ascot livery of scarlet, purple, and gold jackets with black peaked riding hats, all inspired by the royal racing silks.
They were accompanied by red-uniformed outriders and followed by four mounted police officers. More police were stationed on foot every twenty yards or so down each side of the course.
‘Who are the other people?’ Toni asked.
‘The Queen is sitting next to the King, and more members of the royal family are in the carriages behind. The other people with them are their guests. They will all have had lunch at Windsor Castle. It’s a massive honour to be invited to ride in the Royal Procession.’
‘Have you ever?’
I laughed. ‘No. Nor likely to be. Although I have been in the royal box. I was invited in for a drink after one of my horses won a race here a few years ago.’
‘So you’ve met the King?’ She sounded impressed.
‘I actually met him two weeks ago, at Epsom, when Potassium won the Derby. But I also met Queen Elizabeth the Second here at Ascot.’
I could see that she thought that even more impressive.
We watched the screen as the procession was shown slowing to a walk, and then it turned in to the tunnel under the grandstand that, later, the horses would use to access the track for the races. After another minute or so, the King’s carriage appeared at the end of the parade ring to our right, to rapturous applause from everyone around us, and then made a complete circuit of the ring, to give everyone a good view.
Finally, the carriage stopped just below where we were standing, and we were in the perfect position to see the King and Queen step down and from it, to be met by the waiting dignitaries.
The royal party disappeared from sight into the grandstand at the lower level, and I breathed a small sigh of relief. No one had taken a pot shot at them.
‘Wow!’ Toni said. ‘That was neat. I’ve never seen one of our presidents up that close. Does it all happen again in reverse when they leave?’