“$50 at 9/4,” I reply.

$112.50,” he says, in no time at all, although no money changes hands. This is just for practice. 

He coughs and splutters

I lean in close, and listen.

And look at the ring on his index finger, coated in diamonds. Or something that sparkles.

He might be dying.

And, by the sound of that cough and the sight of fleck and spittle spraying into my drink, so might I be soon.

But lean in I do.

After all, this is Cup week.

The William Farrer Hotel is abuzz for the Town Plate Calcutta (although everyone says, ‘Wait til tomorrow night - you won’t be able to move in here.’

‘Look at this’ says another. ‘All blokes… That’s a problem. Wait til tomorrow night. You won’t be able to move in here.’)

Among the familiar faces is a face that looks kind-of-familiar. Nondescript but interesting, with the nose of a boxer and the eyes of an accountant. 

‘Who is this bloke? He knows people,’ someone says.

A Cups Character.

I still don’t know whether he was more brickie than bookie, let alone what to back.

But I think he knew something.

A concreter who says his connection to Wagga is that he worked here once –  “You know when they were building Homebase, near KFC there on the highway? I did that,” our man-possibly-in-the-know says.

He is a fly-in fly-out worker in Queensland, who lives in Melbourne. He normally gets one week off a month but arranged two for Wagga Gold Cup week. Which explains nothing.

He’s in Wagga to catch up with a mate who’s a bookie and is coming to the carnival ‘not to work as a bookie, just working for another bookie’.

Which explains less but is certainly intriguing.

He was a penciller once, my man asking for ‘bets’. A bookies’ right-hand man, now calling for tests about fractions and odds. And soon there are stories about carnivals passed – from Hanging Rock to Warrnambool; of bets gone bad and bets come good; of trackwork riders with mail you can trust and blokes with tips two days before pay day – when no-one had any money to back them.

“I was good at English too,” he says.

“English and maths. I wasn’t so good at French.”

An unusual response. The sort that makes a mug look for an omen.

One horse with a French name in the Cup is Secateurs.

But asked for a Cup tip, our man is not sure yet.

“I’ll be reading the form in the early hours of the morning. And you’ve got to watch the money. If the money comes for something, it’s worth watching. Sometimes.

“But then again, sometimes it’s no good at all.”

The character doesn’t appear to bid in the Calcutta. That’s left to the likes of the Pitbull from Bega, who launches late.

The bidding is slow and steady to begin with down in the weights. Count Dekroner (auctioned off for $1850) and Hill Spy ($1700) are the horses of interest.

At Gamblestown ($3600) the punters get excited, and the betting rockets past 2K in no time. An earnest pursuit in hope of holding the winning ticket, worth more than  $16,000.

The Plate favourite is Sure and Fast, a stablemate of Count Dekroner, trained by Paul Murray at the first carnival in decades without his father, Bede.  

Fittingly, Sure and Fast sells quickly as the Pitbull wipes out the competition with a sledgehammer bid of $4000. Sure and Fast indeed.

Matthew Dale’s Unanimously isn’t far behind ($3500) while the top weight, Decision Time – a Black Opal winner and Golden Slipper runner-up – sells for $1700.

By the time the bidding is done, the character is gone.

Back to his hotel to study the form, in the early hours.