Race Girl Page 24

  Dahlia ran hard in her first 2000 metre, but a mid-pack start and a dirty move by a jockey from the Hunter Valley cost them a money finish. The jockey was suspended for riding his horse straight into them, pushing Dahlia into the rail at the 650-metre mark. Tully was determined to ride more defensively and aggressively as they worked up to the finale of the carnival.

  Fin and Dahlia both claimed a class win each at Doomben’s second and third meets. Brandon’s horse improved with a fifth in one class, but Pearce was still fuming.

  Finale day neared and all the Barnes Racing staff and connections assembled in the mounting enclosure the Wednesday before the final meet at Doomben alongside racing’s elite for the all-important barrier draw for the Stradbroke Handicap. Fia and Pearce Weston both had contenders running

  Crushingly, Mr. Barnes pulled barrier sixteen out of the school boy’s hat, and even with one of the lightest handicaps, the big chestnut wasn’t able to outrun the country’s best sprinters to finish in the top-ten from the widest gate among the sixteen starters. Fia’s big black colt finished fourth, Pearce’s newest colt second. Tully watched on, struck by the lack of mention of Pearce’s missing yearling. The image of the promising little bay still haunted her every time she heard the name ‘Weston Park’. Pearce had immediately spent the insurance money on the new, more experienced colt – the stolen yearling and the ‘death note’ seemingly forgotten. Brandon said the detectives hadn’t found any solid leads and that his father had banned his staff from mentioning ‘the incident’ ever again.

  In the Barnes Racing camp, however, the mood was far from celebratory, with nerves fraying and sights shifting to Tully and Dahlia in the final big class for the carnival, the Brisbane Cup . . .

  Dahlia was fully focused on the track and shot out of the barriers with the win in her sights, not even bothering to snap at Pearce’s brutish colt beside them, or the wide bay that got the jump. Tully steered her straight in to the rail, cutting just in front of the favourite for the win – trained by a third generation trainer out of Eagle Farm and ridden by none other than Steven ‘Shot Gun’ Coalburn.

  The whole establishment rose to their feet with Tully and her filly, the roar from the several-thousand strong crowd deafening as they lead the pack down that awesomely long straight, crossing the line nose-to-nose with Shot Gun, his whip still cracking against the flank of his gorgeous dapple grey mount.

  Tully glanced back for confirmation, crying with shock and delight when she spotted the rest of the field filing in behind them and Avalon-Sky Dahlia’s number ‘8’ up in lights on the scoreboard. Winners of the Brisbane Cup, Tully thought, tears of joy and pride coursing down her cheeks. That one’s for you, Mum!

  Dahlia pranced like a true champion around the track to the winner’s circle, where Tully slid off – Peta parading Dahlia while Tully took her saddle to quickly ‘weigh in’. The stewards needed to make sure the horses ran with the correct advertised rate.

  Tully held her breath on the scales, before she and Dahlia were declared ‘CORRECT WEIGHT’ – making their first metro win official. She hurried back to her mare where the crowd was closing in, cameras flashing, music pumping from the bar areas and connections craning their necks to get a look at the winners.

  An immaculate brunette who Tully recognised from her last movie, dressed in a fuchsia dress and spiky black fascinator, presented Tully with the huge silver cup and offered her congratulations. Men in suits reached forward cautiously to lift a white sash around Dahlia’s neck – which she allowed, only to snap at the shortest, widest one when he didn’t step back as quickly as the rest. The other three placing horses lined up a safe distance from Dahlia, posing with their owners for pictures. Fia and Mr. Barnes stood with Tully and Brandon even snuck out for a quick pic or two, before heading back to his father’s stalls.

  After the rest of the horses had filed off, a pack of journos with recorders, photographers with huge-lensed cameras and TV cameramen closed around Tully and Dahlia and the winner’s music started up again, marking their success.

  ‘Tully,’ a tall, slick journo said from the front. ‘Extraordinary result today, and what an incredible filly you’ve got. What a story you pair make! Is it true you’re also her owner?’

  ‘It is,’ Tully said, slipping down off Dahlia’s back. Peta stepped forward to help hold the filly, offering a sneaky sugar cube to distract her from all the strangers. ‘She’s an Athens horse. And, obviously, trained by the amazing Curtis Barnes out of Gulherin Lodge.’

  ‘And you were able to get her registered, without parentage?’

  ‘We were very lucky,’ Tully said. ‘We have our suspicions about her bloodlines—but we aren’t willing to speculate publicly, because all it would be is speculation. We’ll never be sure, but none of that matters now. She’s just . . . Well, she’s extraordinary.’

  ‘Tully,’ an eager female TV journo said from the front. ‘You lost your mother just over two years ago now. Were you riding for her out there today?’

  Tully took a deep breath, fighting off the tears. Dahlia stamped her near-fore impatiently, pushed her shoulder into Tully, her ears pinned forward at the flashing cameras and the sea of people around them.

  ‘Easy, sweets,’ Tully said, her face breaking into a grin. She took Dahlia’s head under her arm, stroking the silky spot just above her muzzle. ‘My mum will always be my hero,’ Tully said, sucking in a breath and turning into the cameras. ‘I like to think I’m continuing her legacy, but I’m a different rider to Mum.’ She paused, scratching Dahlia’s sweaty face underneath her brow band. ‘I’ve accepted that, and I’ve had to make my own way.

  ‘Racing is in our blood; some of my favourite memories will always be riding with Mum on my pony and her favourite horse, Greg. We used to talk about the day when I’d be old enough to race alongside her. I like to imagine she’s proud of me when we blow across that line, and the win today was for her. But ultimately, I’m riding for Dahlia, and our farm, Avalon Downs. I want to have the biggest career I can, for my dad, and Dahlia and our family name. That would’ve made Mum proud, and it’s what I want, too.’

  ‘Well you’re certainly proving yourself out there,’ a gruff blogger-type said from the back. ‘And so is that filly. Many say she’s the best filly to debut here in a decade.’

  ‘And you’ve managed to land yourself a cute member of racing royalty,’ the woman journo grinned. ‘Brandon Weston?’

  Tully’s whole body lit up like a sparkler at his name. ‘Brandon is amazing, too,’ Tully laughed. ‘Yep.’

  ‘What’s next on your calendar?’

  ‘Well, we haven’t talked too much about that,’ Tully said. ‘We’ve been preparing for this carnival all year, and to win a Group One here in Brisbane is the most unbelievable feeling. We haven’t talked about what’s going to come next.’

  ‘All the best for your future, Tully,’ the woman journo said. ‘To you and the filly. Rising stars.’

  ‘She sure has a special bond with you,’ a short, kind-faced journo said from the middle.

  ‘Thank you!’ Tully grinned as Dahlia flicked her tail, spun, and dragged Tully and Peta back to her tie stall.

  Tully was wrapping a cosy rug over Dahlia after she and Peta had hosed her down and groomed her when Fia crept up, grabbing Tully in a tight hug. ‘My Little Racing Star!’ she cried, kissing Tully on both cheeks. ‘How does it feel to be a metro winner?’

  ‘This star did all the work,’ Tully said, reaching carefully under Dahlia’s belly to do up her blanket straps. ‘She really is something special, isn’t she, Aunt Fia?’

  ‘Too special to waste,’ Fia said, crouching down to run her hands down Dahlia’s hind legs. ‘It’s time, Race Ace,’ she said, giving Dahlia a pat on the rump, before moving around next to Tully. She leant in close, between Dahlia’s wither and the wall of the stall. ‘It’s time for you and this amazing filly of yours to live your dreams. To come try your hand on the biggest stage in the country, one of the biggest
in the world.’ Her green eyes met with Tully’s. ‘I want the two of you down in Melbourne, at Flemington, to train with me. How does Monday sound for the truck to come and collect you?’

  29

  Choose One, Lose Two

  Tully blinked, her mouth falling open, as her aunt spoke about making a dream she’d hardly allowed herself to contemplate become a reality. ‘The stable in Melbourne desperately needs my attention,’ Fia continued, resting a hand on Tully’s arm. ‘It’s been so hard – I want to be up here and close to you, but it’s come time that I have to be there.’

  Tully nodded like she totally understood. In reality, her head was already spinning with the questions, the uncertainties, the possibilities of continuing the climb to the glamorous pinnacle of her sport, and what it would mean for her and Dahlia’s future. For the future of her farm. For her and Brandon . . .

  ‘I’d like you to fly down as soon as possible,’ Fia said, her eyes opening wide to soften the blow of her words. ‘So you can get started riding track work – one of my girls got knocked up, and I’m in dire straits. I can send Ashlea up to drive with Dahlia, she’ll be fine. I know it’s a huge decision, sweetheart, and I’m so sorry to lob this on to you. But, regardless, you have to keep this momentum—’ Fia’s mobile rang and she adjusted her sunnies on her head, staring down at the screen. ‘Bugger, sorry, sweetie. I’ve gotta take this. I’ll ring you from Melbourne tomorrow, okay?’

  ‘For sure,’ Tully said, kissing her aunt on the cheek. ‘Um, thanks so much, Aunt Fia. Speak soon, okay?’

  Fia gave her arm a squeeze, flashed her a grin and a thumbs up as she took her call, whisking back to her horses.

  Tully stared out at the passing industrial buildings, construction and city houses from the passenger seat of Mr. Barnes’s ute as they headed home. Her whole body still buzzed with the excitement of their win, the surges of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

  But her breath caught in her throat when the houses were replaced by the distant high-rises of Brisbane city, and her thoughts jumped from the thrills of the day to Surfer’s Paradise – to how exciting and terrifying it had been in the city. Fia’s offer of Melbourne returned to the forefront of Tully’s mind and she was again mulling over the consequences, turning and rolling the tough conversations she’d be forced to have once the decision had been made. Her father, Brandon, Mr. Barnes, even Tam – no one would be happy about her and Dahlia making such a move. What will happen to Brandon and me? To my farm? Anxiety twisted inside Tully like a living creature as she paused at the threshold of the most momentous decision of her life, at the knowledge that from today her and Dahlia’s lives would never be the same.

  There was no choice.

  They had to go.

  And Brandon needed to be the first to know.

  Tully rang Brandon that night, once she’d settled Dahlia at Gulherin and made it home. He was busy the next day – Sunday – in an emergency meeting with a new vet to discuss the treatment plan for Lucky Strike’s stomach ulcers.

  Tully decided to surprise him after feeding Greg and Frangi that morning and buzzed in at the front gate of Weston Park, checking her ponytail in her rear-view as the towering gates swung open. She was startled by her ghost-like reflection, by how navy her eyes were and by the dark violet shadows beneath each one. Then again, she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised – she’d hardly slept last night, as each tick of her clock weaved another strand of fear and dread over her already aching heart, making it impossible to relax or close her eyes. She was petrified of losing Brandon, of hurting her father and Avalon, but the cavern of regret she felt looming behind her if she chose to stay was as frightening as the Bermuda Triangle. When she thought about it, her aunt’s offer had hardly seemed a novel one – it was as if the obvious had been staring her in the face all her life and she just hadn’t been brave enough to dream it. The only option was to go.

  Tully could only pray that Brandon would understand – would consider becoming one of those couples who made the distance thing work . . .

  She pinched her cheeks to at least give some colour to her cheekbones and released the clutch, creeping inside the gate. Her ute lagged, seeming to buy in to the heavy thudding of her heart as she shifted down gears and revved the engine to keep pace up the driveway.

  ‘Hey, Race Ace!’ Brandon beamed, leaving the vet with Lucky and jogging across the stable yard to Tully.

  She parked across from the parade ring, pointing down towards the main barn. Her eyes welled with tears and she turned away, wiping her face frantically. Crap, crap, CRAP! She scolded herself, forcing a breath and smiling like she wasn’t having a panic attack. Quit being such a pussy!

  ‘You okay, babe?’ Brandon said, easing his long frame into the passenger side. He wrapped a steady arm around her shoulders, pulled her in for a hug. He was all cuddly in a white hoodie and ripped jeans, his hair tousled and golden, his skin warm and inviting from the chill of the day. She just wanted to cuddle into him, but his dark brown eyes burned relentlessly, forcing her forward.

  ‘Ah, Brandon . . .’ Tully said, chewing her bottom lip to keep from bursting into sobs. Why does this have to be so hard?!

  ‘Oh, my God, Tulls,’ he leaned back, a hand on her shoulder, his eyes opening wide with concern. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Brandon,’ Tully said, fighting the urge to bury her head in his chest. ‘I can’t believe I even considered it—it was crazy. I’d miss you way too much!’

  ‘Wait, what’s going on?’ He hugged her hard, then took her by the shoulders and rested his forehead against hers. ‘Tell me.’

  Tully forced a deep breath, wiped her eyes. The risk is worth it, she told herself, doing her best to be strong, to be brave. He’s going to understand . . . ‘Aunt Fia wants Dahlia and me to move to Flemington,’ she said in as determined a voice as she could manage. ‘To train for the Melbourne Cup.’

  ‘Well… shit.’ His shoulders straightened. A stunned expression crossed his face, then he looked away, out his window, down over Weston Park. When his eyes finally returned to hers she was sure they were darker, crinkled at the corners. Fear. And she’d seen it in him before.

  The memory of her sweet sixteen, of how she’d finally had him after so many years, only to lose him completely, sent Tully’s mind reeling. Acid rose, burning her throat, her stomach twisting and dropping to the ground. So this is the end? The panic rose as she reached forward to grip Brandon’s arm, holding her breath, waiting for the end. He’s gonna run again!

  ‘That’s . . . one hell of an opportunity,’ Brandon said, his eyes softening as he leant into her. Tully’s heart burst with relief. Brandon Weston’s growing into a man. ‘It’s the dream, Tully. It’s your cream. I couldn’t stand in the way of that,’ he continued, reaching forward to brush a tear from her cheek. ‘But, you do want to stay together, right?’

  ‘Um, oh yes. YES!’ Tully shrieked in sheer relief, throwing her arms around his neck and breathing in the mind-blowing scent of cologne and horses and home that was Brandon. ‘Of course I do, Brandon. I love you.’

  ‘I love you too, Tulls.’

  They beamed at the words they’d never before spoken. Tully’s smile was warm enough to melt the fear in her heart, setting her soul alight with the possibilities of their future.

  ‘You know I never want to go back to the city, Tully. But I’d do it for you.’

  ‘I couldn’t ask you to come, Brandon. I never would. I’ll come back to visit, and you’ll be coming down with your dad for races, anyway.’

  ‘For sure. What’s sixteen hundred kilometres, anyhow?’ They both laughed nervously. ‘So, we’ll have a crack at the impossible long distance thing, then?’

  ‘We’ll make it look easy.’

  He smiled, pulling Tully against his chest. ‘I’ll miss you, my little Race Ace.’

  ‘I’ll miss you more, Master Weston.’

  ‘Have you broken the news to your dad, yet?’

&nb
sp; ‘Um, no,’ Tully said, snuggling in the hollow of Brandon’s shoulder. She reached unconsciously for her horseshoe necklace, running her fingers over the cool stones, the silky metal. ‘I was planning to, tonight.’

  Brandon leant down to kiss her. She arched against him, their lips meeting with a melting heat and eruption of sparks.

  He pulled away, ran a work-roughened finger down her cheek, then flashed a cheeky, lightning-bolt grin only Brandon Weston could get away with. ‘Well—’ he kissed her quickly on the forehead ‘—there’s one for luck, Ace.’

  30

  Impossible Goodbye

  Tully wasn’t sure who was more furious the night she broke the news of her and Dahlia’s move to Melbourne: her father, or Bucko. It was impossible to judge, she decided, as they had such different reactions to rage. Her father tended to lash out, then handle it, but Bucko brooded on things until his face went so red he looked like he’d explode.

  Bucko threw his hands in the air, turning to stalk from the kitchen.

  ‘Bucko—wait!’ Tully pleaded. ‘I value your opinion. You found Dahlia!’

  Bucko halted in the doorway, wouldn’t meet her eye. Tully was sure he hadn’t really looked at her since she started dating Brandon. His face was beet red, creased with emotion. ‘You found her, Tully. You’re the one that’s connected with her, paid for her. Now you’re making all the decisions.’

  He left before she could say any more.

  Tully’s father sat down heavily at the kitchen table, his head in his hands. ‘We’re just getting back on our feet, and you want to leave?!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Dad,’ Tully said gently, sliding a fresh cuppa in front of him. ‘Surely, though, Dad . . . surely you can understand why we have to go?’