Race Girl Read online

‘I can’t believe you’d even consider this after what happened to your mother.’

  ‘Mum always wanted to go to Melbourne, Dad!’ Tully said, the rage boiling up within her. ‘And don’t talk to me like I’m making all the same mistakes she did. That horse was lame. Aunt Fia told me all about it.’

  ‘Oh, did she now?!’ Gerald scoffed, turned to face the wall. ‘She still could have died, even if that bloody horse was a hundred percent sound. That’s the risk you take every single time you head out there, Tully. You think you’re a big shot up here now? Just you wait till you get to Melbourne – make one mistake, and they’ll eat you alive.’

  Tully opened her mouth to answer, but snapped it shut. The ball of nerves in the pit of her stomach was churning again and the last thing she needed was any more anxiety about what lay ahead. ‘I’ll be back as often as I can—’ She released a clenched hand, dropping it briefly on her father’s shoulder— ‘And I’ll transfer as much money as I can into the farm account, to help out here.’

  Her father shook his head, glaring at the gleaming surface of the table. Tully took a breath, the sting of his words, his rejection, his lack of faith in her singeing little holes in her already aching heart. She turned and headed for her room.

  Tully grabbed at clothes and shoes and hats, jamming it all in her duffel bag and the old suitcase she’d found in her mother’s closet. But before she could get beyond packing her little rearing horse and fave pics off her walls in her bag for carry-on, Tully decided she couldn’t take it anymore – there were two people left to discuss the move with, and she couldn’t handle any more tension. It was now or never; she knew what she was doing, was ready to make that breakthrough.

  Mr. Barnes didn’t sound surprised at the news and Tully found it less stressful to handle the conversation from the comfort of her bed, sitting cross-legged with Bear in her lap. At least Mr. Barnes said he understood and as their contract had only been for twelve months to begin with, so she wasn’t being unfair. Tully felt terrible for leaving after he’d given her a start, especially as she wasn’t able to give him the standard two weeks’ notice, but he assured her it was the right move and that he had another apprentice lined up to get started. ‘I had a feeling you’d be going someday,’ he said, then laughed. ‘No jockey or owner in their right mind would turn down a crack at one of the richest races on the planet, or a spot training in one of the most prestigious venues. You and that filly of yours – you’re stars, girl. I wish you all the luck in the world.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr. Barnes,’ Tully said, the tears she’d been holding back bursting free in hot flashes down her cheeks. ‘Thanks again, for everything.’

  ‘Go get ‘em, sweetheart. Show them blokes what you and that little fire cracker of yours are made of.’

  Tully had managed to calm down a bit and was into a rhythm with her packing when Tam arrived a few hours later. All they had left to organise was Tully’s limited selection of ‘fancy’ clothes. It was wonderful to see her bestie.

  Tully had already broken the news to Tam over the phone that morning before going to see Brandon. Tam’s initial reaction had also been frosty: ‘You can’t leave me, Tully!’ She’d cried. ‘Is it that Taneisha who wants you to go?’

  ‘Taneisha?! Tully said. ‘No, Aunt Fia.’

  ‘Oh, right. Fia. Are you sure it’s the best decision for you, Tulls?’

  ‘Would you go to the States to barrel race if you had the chance, Tam?’

  ‘Fair point. I’m just . . . I’m gonna miss you!’

  Tam handed Tully a takeaway coffee and a box of Labrador puppy tissues. ‘I’m sad, okay?!’ she said, stealing a tissue to dab under her eyes. ‘It’s not like I can help it. But you should be excited, girl! I’m going to be excited . . .’ She blew her nose loudly. ‘I promise. Now, we need to pack you something decent amongst all your jean shorts and polos. Melbourne’s totally rad, the shopping is in-sane. Don’t worry about Brandon, you two will make it work.’ Tam sighed loudly, falling back on the bed to sip her coffee. ‘Just think – my bestie, the Melbourne Cup jockey. I’m so proud of you, Tulls.’

  The girls headed out to take photos of Avalon once they’d set Tully’s bags out ready to go beside the front door. They used their phones to snap pics of Greg and Frangi and Bear, and the birds and the trees and the dam – ready to comfort Tully when she got homesick in the city.

  Tully cried the next morning when it was finally time to rush off to catch the plane. It felt like she was leaving a huge chunk of herself behind. She kept digging through her bag, thinking she’d forgotten something. A horrible feeling, one she hoped wasn’t an indication of things to come.

  31

  Flemington Lights

  Tam drove Tully to the airport. Neither she nor Brandon felt they could handle another goodbye. Tully had saved a picture of them together in the winner’s circle at Doomben as the new screensaver on her phone, and couldn’t tear her eyes away from it during the hour and a half drive to the Brisbane International Airport. I love Brandon Weston, she thought, taking a long, deep breath. I love him, and I’m saying goodbye . . .

  And, at that moment, none of what Tully was doing felt right. What if we can’t make it work?! Tully gripped her phone in her hand, was dialling his number before she knew what to say. What if I’ve made the wrong choice?!!

  ‘Hiya, gorgeous,’ Brandon said, breathless after answering on the fourth ring. ‘You didn’t get very far.’

  ‘I . . .’ Tully took a deep breath, swallowed down a rising lump in her throat. Quit freaking out, Tully, she told herself. You know you’re doing the right thing!

  ‘Get off the phone to me, girl,’ Brandon said. ‘You’ve got a plane to catch, and a world to set on fire.’

  A smile broke across Tully’s face, she hoped the tears wouldn’t take over again. ‘I’ll ring you as soon as I land,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll be down to see you soon. Be strong, Tulls. And remember . . . breathe.’

  ‘Kay, thank you. I will.’ Tully exhaled, pushing the phone hard against her ear. ‘I love you, Brandon.’

  ‘Me too. See you soon.’

  ‘Oooh, yay!’ Tam squealed, cranking up the stereo. ‘It’s our song, Tull!’

  Tully held her phone tight, pushing it down between her thighs, the sound of Brandon’s deep, gravely voice still ringing in her ears.

  ‘Remember, Tull?!’

  ‘What? Oh, sorry, Tam.’ She smiled. ‘Um . . .’ Tully opened her ears to the music, and instantly recognising the doof doof beat and catchy, sensual lyrics. ‘Get do-wn,’ she sang, glancing across at Tam. ‘Get dir-ty . . .’

  ‘Come ’ere gurl—’

  ‘You’re mi-ne to-night!’ They sang in unison, cracking up.

  ‘I swear, I’m gonna have to come visit, just to see those jockeys again,’ Tam grinned.

  ‘You’d certainly make their day, huh, J-Lo?!’

  ‘OMIGOD—you did not just call me that! I don’t even look like J-Lo.’

  Tully raised her eyebrows, smiling. ‘So do.’

  ‘Yeah, no,’ Tam said. ‘I’ll be stoked if I look that smokin’ when I’m her age.’ Tam swung her hips, sending the RAV into the oncoming traffic lane.

  ‘Tam!’ Tully screeched, grabbing for the dashboard.

  ‘Holy cow,’ Tam said, laughing as she brought the little 4x4 back onto their side of the road. ‘But I’ve seen you pull way wilder moves on the track, Tull.’

  Tully shook her head, had to laugh. ‘I trust a racehorse way more than your driving.’

  ‘Ba-ha, very funny. Now, where the heck am I going?’ Tam took the off-ramp for the airport and they decided to follow the signs to ‘Domestic Departures’ and ‘Short Stay Parking’.

  It was less than thirty minutes before takeoff by the time the girls finally got all of Tully’s bags and suitcases to the check-in desk. Tully had kept her race saddle out so it wouldn’t get bent or damaged in her gear bag and they got plenty of looks, especially from the guys, as they ran down
the corridor to the gate, the pink-trimmed saddle flapping on top of her carry-on bags. A few young girls even recognised her, stopping for a selfie and an autograph.

  Tully was puffing by the time they found her gate and the short row of passengers already boarding, when she had to turn to say her last goodbye.

  ‘Call me—okay, Race Ace?’ Tam said, grabbing Tully to kiss her quickly on the cheek. ‘Love you.’

  ‘Like a sister,’ Tully said.

  Tam bawled loudly. Tully set her duffel and gear bags down near a curved row of plastic seats, reached up and grabbed Tam into her fiercest bear hug, until a last call for boarding rang through the corridor. Tully picked up her bags, blowing Tam a kiss as she rushed towards the vacant desk at her gate.

  ‘Don’t talk to strangers!’ Tam yelled after her. ‘And fly safe!’

  ‘See you soon!’ Tully’s heart was skit-zing as she jogged down the square tunnel, to slip in behind the last few business-looking passengers just stepping aboard. She was fumbling for her ticket when a gleaming hostess stepped forward. ‘Just this way, Miss Athens,’ the immaculate blonde said, motioning to a wide leather seat on the window in the second row.

  First flight, and it’s first class! Tully thought, suppressing a grin of sheer pleasure in the moment. She dropped her bags on her seat, then stood on her tip toes, searching the stuffed overhead locker for a safe spot for her saddle.

  ‘Let me help you with that,’ the stewardess said.

  ‘Wow, thank you.’ Tully smiled, before pulling out her phone to shoot Fia a quick message to say thank you for the amazing seat. Then she switched her phone off, sat back in the ridiculously comfy leather seat, gazing out into the crisp pink sunrise – over the wide tarmac, bustling with planes and staff and airport vehicles. Tully had always dreamt of what it would be like to fly. She couldn’t wait for the rush of takeoff, to rise above her town, soar up into the clouds. To see the lights of Melbourne for the very first time.

  A patch of turbulence caused Tully to sweat a bit mid-flight, but it was mostly a mad rush. She sat with her nose pressed to the window most of the flight, enjoying the glimpses of green and brown countryside through the gaps in the clouds below them, feeling as if the freezing air at this high altitude was somehow seeping in against her skin. The land became a patchwork as they began their descent into Melbourne in what felt like no time at all.

  When the plane swung around to the left and Tully caught sight of the glistening buildings of the city, the vast blue sea meeting a mass of civilisation in a cove at the far side, her breath caught and the whir of excitement whipped to fever pitch within her.

  Tully imagined what her mum would have felt, slipping down inside this great metal bird, speeding towards the big time. How thrilled she would have been to have made it, after so many years of exhausting work and dreaming . . . Tully was sure she could see the turf and grandstands of Flemington even from this height and through the beige haze of smog hovering over the city.

  Tears welled in her eyes and a hot sense of achievement rushed inside her. At that moment, the race track, the battles to come, the hard work, the bloodthirsty competition – none of it scared her. She’d made it to Melbourne; for her mother, for herself. She had succeeded.

  ‘Please enjoy your stay in Melbourne, and thank you for flying with us,’ a stewardess announced.

  ‘Thank you,’ Tully whispered, gazing out at the approaching buildings, the ground speeding up to meet them.

  But I do want to win.

  The thought made Tully grin and she reached forward for her duffel bag, held it tightly in her lap. Her feet tapped the floor, she couldn’t wait to get on the track. To prove to everyone I have what it takes, she thought, her fingers creeping up to her necklace. To prove that Dahlia is a true champion, worthy of being written into the history books like she so deserves.

  Tully giggled with exhilaration as the plane lurched against the ground, speeding to a stop near the end of the runway. She was the first to unbuckle her seatbelt. She made it off the plane and through the airport like a race-ready thoroughbred out of the barriers – but had to slow up, wandering the baggage area, confused where to get her bags.

  Tully was relieved to spot a cab driver holding a placard reading ‘ATHENS’ once she’d managed to drag all her bags outside. She shivered and puffed a few times to try and see her breath as the icy winter air bit, pulled her black jacket out of her suitcase and slipped it on.

  ‘Flemington, Miss Athens?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  The city centre was in the distance as they cruised past, towering buildings constructed from colours and patterns and metals Tully had never imagined existed. She marvelled at the sheer number of cars and trams and people everywhere – the Melbournians so stylish, striding along the sidewalks in clothes she was sure were straight off the catwalk.

  Tully was wondering if the cabbie had taken her the long way, and hoping the crowd at the track were a little more like home as he hung a left on Racecourse Road, then another into Epsom Road. And then the buildings fell away and Tully’s eyes swept down over the most incredible sight she had ever seen . . .

  Flemington Racecourse.

  More than the sum of its parts, the venue had a vast, commanding presence, telling epic tales of battles past – of love, loss and triumph. The grandstands loomed large, presiding over the powerful oval of turf, so much larger and grander than any racing facility Tully had ever seen.

  Her mouth hung open, her eyes wide as they passed the Member’s Drive, with its grand gated entrance just like Weston Park. She laughed with delight, then spun in her seat to catch the last of the view as the road swept around past immaculate gardens and lush trees, the track disappearing out of sight.

  Flemington was even more magnificent than Tully had imagined. Her heart swelled at the thought of riding here, thudding like the hooves of a race winner as the cabbie pulled up out the front of white metal gates.

  Tully tipped the cabbie, then grabbed her bags, piling the saddle awkwardly on top, and headed towards the row of barns, hoping to see the Fia Germaine Racing signage as the cab driver said she would. A security guard stopped Tully just before the gates and she fumbled for her driver’s license, hoping Fia had let him know she was coming and didn’t yet have her ID badge.

  Sure enough Fia’s was the fourth barn in, with a white and black sign, neat garden and glass office at the front. Tully breathed in hay and leather and horse, a combination that instantly put her at ease as she stepped into the open, airy stable.

  There were more stalls than Tully could quickly count, with each horse’s blankets hanging on the doors, nameplates for each and an incredibly neat, clean aisle. Roller doors set in brick-coloured walls separated this first barn from an identical second barn behind, so they appeared as one long, never-ending row.

  Tully stopped to watch a short young guy in a black and white polar fleece jacket lead a ripped bay in from outside, down to his stall. A phone rang and men chatted nearby, horses snorted and stomped inside their stalls, others clopped by on the pavement outside. The place was alive with the pulse of racing and every breath Tully took made her more excited for the days ahead.

  She was truly lost in the atmosphere when a sharp-faced girl wearing a matching jacket to the boy, with blonde hair in a neat, tight bun and wonderful curves marched down the aisle towards her.

  Tully read the swirling Fia Germaine Racing logo embroidered over the girl’s right breast as she halted in front of Tully, one hand on her hip. ‘So you’re the boss’s niece,’ the girl said, looking Tully up and down. ‘Don’t know how Fia expects you to hold any of these horses, Scrawny.’

  Um, what?! The breath was punched from Tully’s chest and she found herself gaping across at the icy-eyed girl.

  ‘I’m Miena, Fia’s head track work rider—so technically, you’ll be working under me.’

  Tully blinked, completely baffled by the way this girl she’d never met had totally just paid her out. ‘Hi,
Miena,’ Tully said in her nicest, most professional voice. She lifted her whole frame from her toes to the tip of her head, milking every centimetre and muscle from her body to be the tallest, strongest version of herself. ‘I’m Tully Athens.’

  ‘Yeah? Good for you.’ The girl flipped a hand in the air, spun on her heel. ‘I’ll give you till the end of the week.’

  32

  Calypso Grey

  Tully crept down the hall, the sudden, eerie silence left in Miena’s wake singing at her nerves. She ducked into the tack room to her left, where masses of bridles, reins and breast-plates hung on hooks and saddles and girths rested on rails three high along the back wall. A bench with lockers set behind it ran the length of the wall opposite, with names written in chalk on the doors and tattered helmets, vests, goggles and whips spilling out of a few.

  Tully jumped when a rat the size of a kitten meandered in through a hole into the feed room, sniffed at a shell of corn in the corner, then headed back to no doubt roll around in the feed bins. Tully was used to mice – there were that many on the farm who were too full of feed and hay to be afraid of people – but she’d never seen a rat so huge before. The pigeons here surprised her, too, clattering around on the barn roofs in the hundreds, hoping for a sneaky meal.

  Tully stepped around the hole the rat had squeezed out of, set her bags in the far corner, pushing them under the bench. She and sat down lightly – ready to stand and face Miena again if she had to. What a piece of work she is, Tully thought, slipping out her phone to ring Brandon and let him know she’d arrived safely.

  She got his messagebank, left a quick message, then checked her Facebook – Izzie, Clover the Canadian Rev Girl and Tam had all sent her messages. She smiled and was shooting a reply to Tam when a stout, round man with a red face and bald head stumbled in, clipboard in hand. His eyes widened and roved her body in a way that had her shying away.

  ‘Tully?’ the man asked, shuffling towards her.