It was another beautiful day.
The chaps were all up and ready. They were suited and booted, but every one of them looked absolutely shattered. Ron didn't want to know what they'd got up to the night before, but it looked like they'd got stuck in. Ibrahim seemed very hungover. He had a route printed out for Ron to take them to the races, and passes for them to get in. The passes said that they had booked 'the platinum experience.'
The racecourse was in the countryside, just to the south of London. It was a big race meeting and thousands of people would attend. They made reasonable time. The racegoers who were entering the main building with them looked well-heeled. There were some very glamourous women in dresses and hats. A female employee greeted them. She spoke to Ron at first, unsure if the chaps were able to speak English.
'Hello there, is it the Malouf party?' she said. She was very young, and attractive. She had dyed blonde hair.
'Yes,' said Ibrahim.
'Ah. Mr Yousef Malouf?' she asked.
Ibrahim pointed at Yousef. 'This is Yousef Malouf,' said Ibrahim. Yousef shook hands with her.
'Ok. My name is Alex. I'll be your hostess for today. We have your box ready. Would you like to come up with me?' she said.
Ibrahim and Mo translated for the non-English speakers, and Alex led them through the lobby, which was teeming with racegoers and staff members, and up four flights of stairs. Yousef and some of the other older or heavier chaps were out of breath by the time they got to the fourth floor. Alex let them rest for a second. She took them through a couple of sets of double doors, and then into their box.
The box had a balcony from which people could watch the races. Glass doors lined the front and gave access to the balcony. Their box was on the highest floor of the course's main building. The view of the track was incredible. The box was sumptuously furnished, it looked to Ron like the officers' mess of his regiment, when he had served in there as a waiter when he was a young soldier. There were tables with chairs around them in the middle of the room. Large paintings hung on the walls depicting racing and hunting scenes, and a chandelier hung from the ceiling. Alex showed them the suite's large en suite bathroom. A whole table by the side of the room was covered in bottles of champagne, vodka, gin, and even more blue label whiskey.
'We have friends coming,' said Yousef.
'Ok. We can let them up if they tell reception they are with your party. Were you here last year?' asked Alex. Yousef didn't understand the question, so Ibrahim answered.
'Yes, we were here last year,' Ibrahim said.
'Did you have friends with you last year?' asked Alex.
'Yes,' said Ibrahim.
'I think I remember. We'll bring them up here when they come to reception,' said Alex. Ron thought she seemed like a nice girl.
Three of the chaps had gone into the toilet together. Ron hoped Alex didn't notice. He wondered if he'd have to have a word with them and tell them to be more discreet. They could at least take it in turns.
People started to claim chairs. Mo and Faisal were pouring themselves glasses of champagne even though they both looked dreadfully hungover. Ibrahim 2 came out of the toilet. He looked much fresher and more energised.
Alex told them that dinner would be at one, and that the first race would take place at half past two. There were menus on the tables. A waiter came in to take their orders. Ibrahim and Yousef insisted that Ron join them all for the meal.
***
The chaps had been in and out of the toilets frequently. The cocaine certainly seemed to be waking them up. Ron was sure Alex knew what was going on, but she seemed happy to turn a blind eye. A lot of champagne was being consumed. The chaps would often go out onto the balcony to look at the crowd gathering below. Alex sat and chatted. Ibrahim 2 seemed to be trying to charm her. Alex was telling Ibrahim 2 that she had just got her A-Levels and that she was going to university in Wales in the autumn. Ibrahim 2 didn't know what A-Levels were, and she had to explain, then she tried to tell him what Wales was. She told him she worked at this event every year as her dad worked as a cleaner in the course' stables, he had been able to get her different jobs there, and now she had worked her way up to this one. She really did seem nice. Ron hoped they wouldn't try to pay her to have sex with them when they were drunk.
'You like to watch horse racing, Ronaldinho?' Mo had come and sat next to him. The previous afternoon, they had seen a young boy in a Barcelona football shirt in Knightsbridge, and the chaps had remembered the Barcelona player Ronaldinho. Now it seemed to have been decided that Ron would be exclusively referred to as Ronaldinho by all of them for the rest of the trip. Because of their accents, they pronounced the name curiously, it always sounded like Ronaldeeeenio. Ron didn't mind.
'Not really. My dad loved the horses, but I never got into it. Do you have horse racing in Saudi?' said Ron.
'Oh yes,' said Mo. 'We have horses. We cannot drink at racing in Saudi Arabia. No whiskey, no champagne. We have fun here,' said Mo.
Lunch came. Everyone took seats at the tables. Waiters brought in course after course. Ron thought the food was delicious and felt very grateful for yet another presumably very expensive meal. Ibrahim sat next to him on his left, Faisal was on his right. Faisal seemed to have been significantly revived by cocaine and alcohol and was in good spirits. He told Ron how fast and strong horses were in the middle east. He said that Arabic horses had always been much sought after by European owners and riders.
On Ron's other side, he heard Ibrahim's phone ring. Ibrahim got up and walked to the very back of the box to answer it. After a few seconds he walked over to Alex.
