Race Girl Page 29

  But racing did keep her busy, and spirits in the stable thankfully lifted when Tully and Dahlia began a six-race winning streak in a maiden at Wangaratta, which culminated in stakes wins three months later in the Werribee Cup and the longer, 2500 metre Queen Elizabeth Stakes. This big victory for Tully and Dahlia was celebrated with a blinder of a barn party, as it had qualified the filly for the following year’s Melbourne Cup. Fia shifted Dahlia into a lighter autumn campaign, which consisted of just two starts in relatively short races, with all plans ramping to the Cup.

  ★

  Before Tully realised it was the final year of her apprenticeship and her second year in Melbourne was about to begin, or so Fia reminded her. Fia had planned a surprise dinner to celebrate and had invited Zack and Shannon and everyone else from Germaine Racing and O’Grady’s, even Mr. Dodd and Ashlea.

  Fia sat Tully down at the head of the stable, hands clasped lightly over her eyes, and dropped them. ‘Ok, you can look now,’ she said: And Tully squealed with delight as the most handsome guy she’d ever seen sauntered into the room. Tall and broad, in dark jeans with a chunky leather belt and silver sweater, pink roses and a card in hand.

  Brandon stooped down to kiss Tully on the cheek, but she wasn’t having a bar of it. She grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him square on the lips. He laughed and pulled her up into his arms, his gorgeous cologne and warm familiar strength accosting her senses and sending her weak and dizzy with longing.

  Even through a euphoric cloud of happiness at seeing her guy again, Tully couldn’t ignore the friction between Brandon and Zack as everyone ate, drank and laughed through the meal. Brandon sat next to her, his hand on her thigh, his eyes fixed on her when he wasn’t glancing across the table at Zack, who directed questions like, ‘How long you here for?’ and ‘How’re your dad’s horses goin’?’ at him. His hand tightened on her leg and she excused them both after the cake, dragging Brandon out into the car park to kiss him under the city sky, the odd, faraway star washed out by blinding lights.

  After they’d said goodbye and thanked everyone for coming, Brandon took Tully to a lush, green park not far from the restaurant and they walked hand in hand beneath statuesque English elms, Tully relishing his presence and this refreshing dose of nature in the shadows of a Melbourne evening.

  Brandon agreed it was freezing in her flat but tonight Tully had never felt warmer, snuggling into his chest for real and kissing him deep into the night.

  Tully took Brandon to see Dahlia the next day and they had lunch at the Headquarters Tavern, but Sunday afternoon came much too soon, and she cried into his shoulder as Fia drove them to the airport. It’s too soon to have to say goodbye again . . . Brandon’s kiss lingered and he promised to be back as soon as he could get away.

  Tully and Dahlia kicked off their second cup season with a big win at Caulfield, on track for their maiden Melbourne Cup campaign. When Tully slowed down enough to think about it, which wasn’t very often, it did seem crazy to her that she’d be racing the iconic, gruelling, long race in just their second season in Melbourne. But Dahlia was truly on fire, and Fia was determined to carry the momentum from their debut to strike while the duo were hot, and were both still sound. ‘It’s the only way in this game, doll,’ Fia said with a grin, slapping Tully on the back.

  That night Brandon broke the news that Pearce was again keeping him home for the Cup season, but Tully decided it was finally time. She caught a red-eye flight home that Saturday night, after claiming a third on Calypso.

  She cried when she spotted Tam and Judy waiting outside the gate as she disembarked the plane. The trio laughed and sobbed their way back to Avalon, where Tully crashed out in her own bed but was still up early the next morning to drink in the land and see her horses. Her father had left a note to say he’d gone pig hunting for a few days and she wasn’t sure where Bucko was. Tully did her best not to be disappointed, telling herself to be grateful for avoiding any awkward hellos.

  Brandon picked her up to spend the day riding at Weston Park as Pearce was away in Sydney looking at horses. Again, it was wonderful to see him, but Tully couldn’t shake a sinking, depressing realisation that things had changed since before she’d left for Melbourne. Brandon was tense and distant and just when he seemed to lighten up and act himself, it was again and time to head to the airport.

  All the tension Tully been feeling between Brandon and Zack and the pain of the distance between them seemed to settle on Brandon’s shoulders as they paused at the gate, Tully ready to head down the tunnel to board her plane.

  ‘Please, don’t go,’ Brandon said, grabbing for her at the last moment, pulling her up into a crushing hug.

  ‘I’m sorry it’s so hard, Brandon,’ Tully said, tears sliding cold and fast down her cheeks. ‘I’m so sorry! This isn’t forever, you know that. Please, Brandon, just let me get through the Cup, okay, please? I love you too much to see you in pain.’

  He wouldn’t meet her eyes, but Tully could see his were red and strained. His jaw hardened and he hung his head, taking her strong, slender fingers in his warm rough hands.

  ‘It’s killing me,’ he said, blinking back tears and glancing up at the ceiling. ‘This whole thing, but I don’t know what to do about it . . . Can’t you just make friends with some of the girls?!’

  Why does he have to keep carrying on about Zack?! ‘Even if Zack has intentions, Brandon,’ Tully said, her voice rising. ‘They’re not going to lead to anything. I’m not interested in him; you should know that! It’s always been you.’ She lifted onto her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. ‘Trust me. Please?’

  Brandon nodded, but Tully knew how empty he felt when they were apart, could feel his anger and frustration at this distance splitting them in two – she felt the exact same. Tully prayed they would survive, but doubt had begun corroding her spirit. Why can’t he just understand?!

  She took a cab to the unit after arriving back in Melbourne, but decided she couldn’t stay another second within the cement block walls.

  Tully imagined her remarkable mare on the ride over to the barn, the horse who had given her so much hope and life and strength. The horse who had battled through more than most could ever withstand, held her head high and never tolerated less than what she deserved. The mare who had stayed true to herself and exceeded everyone’s expectations. The mare who was tipped as second favourite to a foreign champion for the Cup, the Melbourne Cup. And Tully would be riding her.

  Tully paid the cabbie, pulled her jacket tightly around herself as she flashed her ID at the security guard at the gate and rushed across the yard to Barn Fifteen.

  The yellow nighttime lights buzzed, the horses deep in peaceful slumber. She took a moment to breathe it all in, before moving down the aisle to the second last stall on her right. Calypso stood up from his shavings, shook and whickered at her in delight. Tully stopped to pat him and feed him a treat before moving next-door to Dahlia.

  Her phone started ringing in her pocket as her eyes met the vacant space of a stall just recently vacated. She let it ring, her heart beating into her throat.

  Dahlia was gone.

  35

  Shock Waves

  Tully glanced around the empty stall, panic rising hot and tingly in her chest. Where’s my horse?! she thought desperately, flinching at the shrill rev of her phone. She’d only just taken it off airplane mode in the cab, hadn’t even checked for missed calls. She caught the call just before it could go to Messagebank – it was Fia, ‘I’ve been trying you for hours, Tully!’

  ‘Where’s Dahlia, Aunt Fia? Have you had to take her somewhere?’

  Fia paused, then sniffed, before blurting: ‘Pearce came this afternoon, Tulls—I’m so, so sorry!’

  ‘What do you mean, Pearce came?’

  ‘He had the transfer papers, and everything,’ Fia rambled, ‘They were signed by your father! He handed me a cheque for the acceptance fees we’ve already paid for the Cup, then he said, ‘I’ll take it from here’. Th
e bloody, arrogant . . . He had three big blokes with him, sweetheart—there was nothing we could do. She’s gone, our mare’s gone to the Westons!’

  ‘Whaa—’ Tully cried, sinking down against the wall of Dahlia’s stall. She gazed across at the imprint of Dahlia’s body in the shavings, where she would have slept the night before. Her cheeks went cold from the tears and she cried out, her whole body suddenly frozen like a glacier, shaking so violently she dropped her phone into the bedding. A sharp pain stabbed at her chest, she was gasping for breath. She pulled her knees up, heaving with the utter heartbreak and betrayal and rage that ripped through her like a bulldozer. She’s gone, the realisation pinged around her throbbing brain. He’s taken her . . . And my own father let him—let Pearce Weston shatter our dreams!

  ‘Tully,’ Fia’s voice rang out from the phone, ‘Tulls—where are you, sweetie? Are you at the stable? I’m coming to you.’

  Tully closed her eyes, her wails shattering the serenity of the barn, waking all the horses. Calypso brought his nose around, pawing to get to her. She shut her eyes, enveloped in the darkness.

  Tully felt arms around her and for a moment, she imagined they were her mother’s. Stroking her hair, whispering that everything would be all right, just as she had when Tully was a little girl and she’d had a bad dream. ‘It wasn’t real, My Little Race Girl,’ her mother would say. ‘I’m right here, we’re ready for the Cup, and Pearce Weston has never tried to ruin our lives . . .’

  But Tully knew all of this nightmare was real.

  Her mother was dead, Dahlia was gone. Her father and the Westons had stuck a knife in her heart. She had to face it, and somebody needed to pay.

  Tully looked up at Fia, blinking through gritty, sore, wet eyes. She wiped her nose, shook her head to try and distract herself from the sickness and the shock roiling in her stomach. She opened her mouth to speak but had no idea what to say. What could she say?

  Fia wrapped her arms around Tully, sobbing loudly into her shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry, Tulls,’ she said. ‘I never imagined she’d be taken from us, never. Not again.’

  ‘It’s okay, Aunt Fia,’ Tully heard herself say. ‘It’s my fault, really. I was the idiot who registered Dahlia in Avalon’s name. It seemed ridiculous to have a racehorse registered in the name of a sixteen-year-old girl! But I see now how ridiculous that attitude was . . .’

  She is my horse, and I’m gonna fight for her . . . Tully shook her head, the ball of pain, dread and regret dropping down to the pit of her stomach. ‘Friggin’ hell! How frigging stupid was I not to see this coming!’

  Tully snatched for her phone, wiped away the shavings, blinking through the tears to stab her home number. It rang four times before her father finally answered.

  ‘I was at home what, like six hours ago, Dad?!’ Tully said, sitting up in Fia’s arms. Fia sniffed and straightened to her, watching her intently. ‘You didn’t think to tell me that you’d sold my horse, to Pearce Bloody Weston!’

  ‘It was the only way, Tully. Would you have wanted us to lose Avalon?’

  ‘You couldn’t have warned me?’ Tully cried. ‘You couldn’t have waited just two weeks, until after the Cup? Did you not believe that maybe I could’ve won the money that we needed?!’ You could have believed in me, in Dahlia!

  Her father was silent, papers shuffled. Tully kept her jaw clenched to keep from screaming down the line.

  ‘It’s the business, Tully. I had to save the farm. I thought you’d understand.’

  ‘She wasn’t your horse to sell! I’d asked you about money, I’ve asked you heaps of times and you said we were right. You lied to me, Dad, you betrayed me and worse yet, you betrayed Mum’s memory! What did Bucko have to say about all this?!’

  Her father cleared his throat. ‘Kyle’s gone.’

  ‘Of course he left, you drove him away!’ Tully hung up, a fresh wave of hysteria shaking her frame.

  Three missed calls from Brandon popped up onto the screen of her phone, but she couldn’t even think his name without tasting bile and nearly spewing. Does Brandon know about this?!

  She furiously typed a message:

  Brandon - make sure your father takes good care of my horse!

  Hit Send, before shoving her phone back into the shavings. Tully clung to her aunt and they cried their broken hearts out together. Fia insisted Tully stay with her and that tomorrow they’d make a plan to get Dahlia back. But Tully knew it was too late. Pearce would never sell her now – Dahlia was gone, forever.

  Everything in Tully’s life: her dream of finally seeing the Athens name in the Melbourne Cup, her dream of riding Dahlia in the race that would see her name etched in the history books where it belonged, her dream of having a life with the boy she loved, of returning home to Avalon Downs – everything was shattered.

  The darkness dragged her down and there was no way out.

  36

  Blood Ties

  Tully slept well past nine and woke in a cold sweat, screaming Dahlia’s name. Fia brought her a cup of Chamomile tea and some dry toast, wrapping her in another soft blanket.

  It was three days before Tully was able to force herself from the darkness of Fia’s spare room, pull on some clothes and ride with Fia to the stable. She drifted into the barn behind her aunt, smiling vaguely when Mr. Dodd shuffled up, offering his condolences for the incredible horse they’d lost to Pearce Weston. It was as if her body would simply vanish in a strong breeze – she was a shell of a person, her heart hollow and bleeding, her soul and spirit crushed by the weight of her devastating new reality. She wouldn’t find Dahlia in her stall; her beloved horse was gone. She couldn’t speak to Brandon, couldn’t speak to her father or ever return home. It seemed to her that one more kick in the guts like this would destroy her.

  Tully took a rough breath and wrapped her arms around her body. Hair tickled at her cheek from the messy high ponytail she’d thrown it into. She pushed her hands into the pockets of her Germaine Racing jumper, letting her fingers smooth over the soft fabric, wind around loose strands of thread deep in the pockets. You have to soldier on, Tully, she told herself, taking another step down the barn aisle. Fia paused in the doorway to her office, mobile to her ear, smiling warmly. Be strong . . . like Dahlia.

  Tully made her way unsteadily down to Calypso’s stall, her Blundstones squeaking on the swept concrete. Calypso’s head whipped out of his stall door and he let out a deep, desperate whinny.

  ‘Hey, matey,’ Tully said, making her way to him. Her hands found his soft face, her lips met his muzzle. A smile rose despite her broken, frigid core, spreading a welcome heat into her cheeks. ‘I’ve missed you, handsome.’

  Calypso brought his nose down to her waist, nuzzling at her pockets, then took a step in towards her and wrapped his neck around her body, a wonderful warm horsey hug.

  ‘Ah, thank you,’ she said, flinging her arms up around his huge, strong neck. ‘I love you, too.’ She buried her face in his mane, letting the coarse hair massage her skin and his reassuring scent seep into her soul, filling her back up again. She held him tightly, stroking his neck and his face, until Fia called out from the office. She wanted to get back into work, Tully realised, gazing deep into Calypso’s kind, gleaming eyes. But first, she needed to see Dahlia – make sure she was being treated properly. Enough hiding, wallowing, Tully thought. Dahlia needs me.

  Tully gave Calypso one last rub of his ears, before heading down to Fia’s office. ‘What have you got on today, Aunt Fia?’ she said, pausing at the end of Fia’s desk.

  Fia looked up from a stack of files, her perfectly shaped eyebrows raising in surprise. ‘I’m sure Calypso would like a ride, if you’re up to it?’ She smiled, pushing her papers to the side. ‘The cup horses will be having their final gallops today,’ she said wistfully, then shook her head. ‘But we’ve got big things to prepare for, haven’t we? Die I tell you that I’ve got a new filly coming in from a syndicate in Queensland? A mate of Shannon’s wants to move her down. Stunning bla
ck filly, you’ll love her. Why don’t you go get ready and take Calypso out for me first, though, please?’

  ‘Will do, thank you.’ Tully smiled tightly, gave her aunt a quick hug, then ducked out into the aisle. Calypso can wait a minutes for his ride, she thought, quickening her step. Dahlia will be meeting her new jockey today, if she hasn’t already. It’s now or never.

  Tully jogged down to the tack room, pulled her gear bag out of her locker and dressed quickly in her exercise gear. She grabbed her ID badge out of her duffel bag and walked quickly and purposefully out of the barn, out towards the far eastern side of the complex. Pearce’s horses were usually stabled with Richard’s when he was in town for big meets, and the place was a mad house. She’d walked past a few times her first cup season to check out Fia’s ex-husband’s infamous outfit and had been shocked by the number of people and horses and officials and trailers and tarted-up girls coming and going. She prayed she’d be able to slip in without seeing Pearce or someone else who would recognise her as Dahlia’s old owner, not a generic track work rider coming in for her morning rides.

  Vicious blasts of wind whipped at her face from a darkening sky as she jogged through the rows of barns, past the Headquarters Tavern, the hot walkers and O’Grady’s treadmill, to Richard’s Barn One. Her heart fired up for the first time in days, thumping hard and quite solidly, filled with strength from the prospect of seeing Dahlia again.

  A powerful sense of anticipation and anxiety surged through Tully as she neared the stable, dropping her chin to her chest, tucking her helmet, goggles and whip under her arm. A horse transporter was parked out front and from it sleek thoroughbreds were being unloaded, their ears pricked and nostrils flaring in the crisp morning. Two men stood out front, one on the phone, the other ready to ride – dressed like she was. A security guard with a walkie-talkie at his belt alongside what Tully was sure was a gun, stalked along the front of the stable, turned and disappeared around the side. Tully didn’t remember seeing a guard at Richard’s barn before. Must be here for Dahlia, she thought, her heart gaining pace.