Race Girl Page 7

  She rolled over, cuddling Bear, stroking his soft black ears, but something hard pressed against her chest. She sat up, reaching into the breast pocket of her shirt—I’m still in my work uniform?!

  Tully pulled out the little bay horse that Tam and Judy had given her that afternoon. So like Dahlia . . . she thought, a strange prickling feeling racing over her skin. She smiled at the tiny horse, then glanced back out the window, checking again on Dahlia and Greg.

  Tully’s eyes finally closed, her body engulfed by exhaustion. She kept hold of the figurine, turning it over and over in her hands, and managed to force her eyes open for one more moment. The filly’s sleek body glistened in the light of the moon and the twinkling of the stars. Suddenly her mother’s words, a comment Tully was sure she had long forgotten, drifted into her mind . . . ‘All it takes is one great horse to change your life.’

  Tully fell asleep praying Dahlia would be the one for her, and that she would be the girl for Dahlia.

  9

  Strength and Passion

  Tully hit the snooze button when her alarm went off just two hours later, dozing for fifteen minutes before the motorcycle revving sound started up again. Bear stirred beside her, licked her face. Tully couldn’t be sure how many times she hit snooze. She eventually rolled over to avoid Bear’s wet tongue. ‘Ouch!’ she cried, pulling the little horse out from underneath her face.

  Dahlia!

  ‘Crap!’ She set the horse gently on her table, snatched up her phone. 4.15am. ‘Oh, bugger—bugger!’ Bear leapt down to the floor and scampered off towards the kitchen. Tully jumped up, groping for the light switch. She managed to pull on a pair of shorts, change her shirt and find two socks of about the same style and colour.

  Tully ran down to the stables in the dark humidity, sweat already beading on her skin. She slowed to a walk when Dahlia’s face emerged from the darkness, took a quick breath and smiled. Dahlia whinnied once at Tully and tossed her nose, her ears pricked forward in an excited, welcoming, gimme-more-of-that-tucker-girl way.

  ‘Nice new horse,’ Grace said, winking at Tully from Rosie’s stall at the end of the row.

  ‘Thanks so much, Grace,’ Tully said, freeing some of the anxiety in her chest with a short expulsion of air. ‘Seen Dad about?’

  ‘Not yet, matey.’

  Tully’s stomach lurched as she remembered the fight with her father last night. She stopped in front of Dahlia’s stall and a sick heavy guilt churned in the pit of her stomach – strong enough to nearly knock her on her butt. ‘Right. Well, maybe we shouldn’t have . . .’

  ‘Don’t waste your time with regret, doll—’ Bucko clapped her on the back as he came up behind her— ‘Ya got an extra one to feed and muck out now, and this one’s in desperate need of some TLC.’

  Tully’s father came down just as the first grey light of dawn crept into the valley, his sunglasses on and a mug in his hands. He walked straight past Tully and Dahlia to the office, and spent at least ten minutes ranting at Bucko, calling him pretty much every foul name Tully had ever heard – and some she hadn’t.

  When the yelling ceased, Tully took cover in Dahlia’s stall, but her father must have sensed she was there. ‘Don’t think you can hide from me,’ he said over the stall door. ‘You brought this horse here, so you’re responsible for her. Want to make adult decisions? Now you’ll have to face adult consequences. You feed her, you pay for her, you look after her. I don’t want you riding, and I can tell you that you’ll never wear the Athens colours—they will never be worn again.’

  Tully held her breath, sinking down lower in the bedding of the stall. Dahlia kicked the back wall and reared towards her father, ears pinned.

  He smacked something – sounded like his hand – on the stall door. ‘This is still my farm,’ he said. ‘I am your father. And I will be heard.’

  Tully gritted her teeth and stood up slowly, to find her father had already gone. ‘Easy, Dahls,’ she said, patting her filly’s bony shoulder. Tully fed her an apple slice from her pocket, then slipped out of the stall to retrieve a special mixture of morning feed for her new filly.

  As she stood watching Dahlia dig in, Tully was overcome by a heavy, dark cloud of emotion – of guilt and fear for her future. Her father had never spoken to her so sternly. It was like he was giving up on her. Tully had been left standing alone in a vast empty plain of decisions she had made, and she wasn’t sure she liked what her new found freedom had to offer anymore. The weight of responsibility settled on her shoulders and she hoped like crazy she’d be able to carry it. I guess this’s what growing up feels like . . . she thought, resting her chin on the cool metal of Dahlia’s stall. And I’m not sure I’m ready.

  Dahlia glanced up from her bucket, raising her nose to the brilliant sunrise. Her face was strong and curved with feminine lines and she had the cutest teacup nose Tully had ever seen. But the signs of her abuse and neglect were all too clear: her forelock was tangled and lifeless and her coat lacked the gleam of health and beauty that radiated through her sharp, smart eyes. Her jutting bones were especially apparent in the light of morning, and the cut on her rump looked angry and sore. Tully would find Bucko and ask to call the farrier and the vet, she decided, as the poor animal needed her feet and teeth done and injections for Hendra virus, worms, and anything else the vet deemed necessary.

  Dahlia flicked her tail at the flies, tossing her proud face in annoyance, before getting back to hoovering up the rest of her breakfast.

  Tully shoved her hands into her pockets, her chest suddenly constricting like a clenched fist as the emotion hit her – tears bursting hot and heavy down her face. Here I am feeling sorry for myself, she thought, squaring her shoulders and reaching forward to smooth the tangles and bits of dead grass out of Dahlia’s forelock. And she’s standing here, as strong as ever, after staring hell in the face . . .

  Shame on me.

  Tully sniffed once, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then moved briskly for the tack room to grab a halter and a wash bucket and to find Grace. She had a feeling she was going to need help washing this filly for the first time.

  10

  Tim Tams and Phar Lap

  Tam’s mum Judy called that afternoon after hearing of the ‘great filly rescue’ – as it was apparently being referred to all over town – and insisted Tully spend Friday night at their place.

  Grace agreed to do the afternoon feed and even offered to do her correspondence vet nursing study outside Dahlia’s stall for a few hours that night. The paddocks were all ready for the new horses arriving – now on Monday – for spelling. Their arrival had been pushed back a few days by an ‘incredibly busy’ Mr. Barnes. Tully also made sure to ask Grace to do the morning feed of her horses, feed Bear and make sure her father had something decent for dinner.

  Judy’s gold RAV-4 was waiting front and centre in the Macca’s car park after Tully finished work. Tam,in her favourite embellished jeans with big silver buckle and cowgirl boots, groaned as she tried to crawl between the two front seats to get back to sit next to Tully, her boobs nearly popping free from her tight collared shirt. Tully laughed, slapped Tam on the butt. Tam screeched with laughter as Tully pulled her into the back.

  ‘Thanks, babes,’ Tam said, sighing heavily as she settled herself next to Tully. ‘This is all so exciting!’

  ‘Thanks so much for the invite, Mrs. T,’ Tully said.

  ‘It’s been too long since we’ve had you, love,’ Judy said, smiling at her through the rear-view mirror. ‘Hoping to see a lot more of you now holidays are finally here. Congratulations on this new filly, too, by the way.’

  ‘I can’t wait for you to meet her!’

  ‘For sure,’ Tam said, giving Tully’s shoulders a squeeze. ‘Those other jockeys better watch out! I wanna be there the first time you ride her.’

  Nerves crept up Tully’s spine at the thought, but she nodded, forcing a smile.

  ‘And, hey—tomorrow morning,’ Tam said. ‘We should totally ta
ke my horses down for a swim. Been ages since we got to ride together.’

  ‘Righto,’ Tully said, reaching an arm over her bestie’s shoulders, smiling forward at Judy. ‘I’d love to.’

  As they cruised out of the car park and hung left onto the highway to head to the Thompson’s acreage, Tully could breathe a little easier. The sun was setting in brilliant canary yellow against the mountains, casting beams of light and shadow across the wide-stretching paddocks all around. It gave her confidence to know that Dahlia was settling in so well and looking glorious after a bath and a good grooming. They’d even discovered a cheeky white snip on her nose under all that dirt and grime. Her whiskers were white over the snip and black everywhere else on her muzzle – a beautiful, preternatural marking. They’d made a plan for the vet to come back in a week’s time, once Dahlia had gotten some solid food in her system and her energy up, to have a better look and trot her up to check for soundness. Maybe things are on the up? Tully found herself hoping . . .

  Maybe I can take care of Dahlia. Maybe I can ride and become a jockey and save our farm. Maybe I can forget about Brandon Weston . . .

  Tully was frowning at the image of his annoyingly handsome smirking face as they pulled into the driveway of the Thompson’s property, on the northern outskirts of town. Tully always loved having sleepovers at the Thompson’s, especially in summer. The place was neat as a pin: five acres, with a newly-built Queenslander complete with a gourmet kitchen, polished timber floors and ducted air-con into every room. Even the toilet and the walk-in-robe. Tully smiled at the golden fairy lights draping the house and the plastic Santa and reindeer in the front garden as they drove in.

  Tam’s stepdad was into penning and her grandfather was a well-known Quarter Horse breeder based out of Tamworth. They had seven horses between them and galvanised steel-fenced paddocks, alongside a two-stall stable and a big sand arena to ride in. Tully loved it all, but her favourite part of the Thompson’s property was the central hallway of the house, where she would spend as long as possible gazing at all of the framed photographs of Judy and her mother. There were pics of the girls jumping at the local pony club, school photos in their uniforms, snaps from their sixteenth and twenty-first birthday parties – even framed photos of both of their weddings, when a much slimmer Judy had been Dahlia’s maid of honour and Dahlia had been the same for Judy.

  The girls were drawn by a wonderful garlicky lamb roast smell to the open-planned kitchen and sat down at the vast dinner table, ready to dig in.

  ‘So how’s your dad going?’ Judy said, glancing up at Tully from behind a goblet of red wine.

  Tully glanced down at her plate.

  ‘Don’t worry, love,’ Judy said. ‘He’ll come ’round. It’s going to be a hard few weeks, I know it is for me . . .’ She took a long sip from her glass and looked down at the table, fiddling with her napkin. ‘First Christmas without her.’

  Tully swallowed down a lump in her throat, shifted on her chair. ‘It’s really hard.’

  ‘Oh—I’m so sorry, sweets,’ Judy said, raising a hand to her mouth. ‘As if you need any more of a reminder. Forgive me, doll, please? Tell me about everything that’s been going on at Avalon?’ Judy nodded encouragingly, then made herself busy dishing up sprigs of asparagus and spoonsful of fluffy mashed potatoes for each of the girls. It was just the three of them tonight, as Tam’s stepdad was on night shift at the timber mill. Judy often worked double shifts as a nurse at the local hospital. Tamara, meanwhile, enjoyed sneaking out to meet boys in the Macca’s car park – a scene Tully had never really found appealing, and had been able to avoid as she was usually the one serving them Cokes and cheeseburgers.

  ‘Any more visits from Pearce Weston?’ Judy said.

  Tully pulled a long stream of air into her lungs, shook her head. ‘He isn’t going to get Avalon.’

  ‘I know he won’t, love. Here, try some lamb—we need to get some meat on your bones!’

  ‘Yummo, thanks heaps,’ Tully said, cutting a chunk off the succulent slice of meat. ‘Hey,’ she said, chewing slowly. ‘Are the Westons really as bad as everyone reckons? I know my dad hates them, but . . .’

  Judy snorted. ‘Oh, much worse, I’d imagine.’ Her sparse, penciled-in eyebrows came together, and she dropped her knife and fork on the table, leaning forward. ‘I’m sure you’ve heard the stories; the doping, and the bleeding, and the horses who aren’t performing just disappearing from Weston Park. And that’s only the half of it. Much of what goes on gets covered up, because Weston’s such a big player. He is a cruel man.’

  ‘And Brandon,’ Tully blurted before she could stop herself, ‘Is he just like his dad?’

  Tam raised a brow from across the table, but was apparently too absorbed with the roast lamb to say anything.

  Tully squirmed in her seat, staring down hard at her plate.

  ‘Never saw much of the boy,’ Judy said, sitting up a little straighter. ‘A few times with different nannies around town, but then that uppity snob of a woman packed him off to the city before he was even in school, poor thing. Nice looking young man though, isn’t he? He’s got a more down-to-earth, larrikin air about him than his dad. Must’ve gotten it from his grand-daddy. He was a legendary horseman.’ She smiled.

  ‘Mum!’ Tam said, shooting her mother a how-dare-you-look-at-a-hot-guy-that-way disgusted face.

  Tully excused herself to use the loo – she was sure Tam would notice how red her cheeks had gotten. She splashed water on her face, told herself to get it together, and returned just as Judy was dropping frosted mugs brimming with raspberry lemonade on the table. ‘But that’s enough talking shop,’ Judy said, sitting down heavily. ‘I propose a toast—’ She raised her glass— ‘To my two favourite girls, and their sweet sixteen summer . . .’

  Tully and Tam looked at each other. Tam rolled her eyes, but they giggled and raised their glasses anyway. ‘May it be everything you’ve always dreamed of, and more . . .’ Judy winked, and they all burst out laughing.

  ‘Hey, on that note,’ Tam said. ‘What are we doing for your sweet sixteen?’

  ‘Not sure that’s really a priority right now, Tim-Tam,’ Tully said.

  ‘Mwah,’ Judy cooed. ‘Such a cute name for my little princess.’

  Tam halted her mother with the raise of a palm. ‘Tully is only allowed to call me that, and never in public. Now—’ she looked back to Tully— ‘this is special. We’ve got to do something. We never go anywhere!’

  ‘I doubt anything’ll happen, Tam. Besides, I really should work it—get the extra overtime and holiday pay to help out with all our bills.’

  ‘Bullcrap you’ll work! Mum’s been talking about heading to the coast.’

  Judy nodded enthusiastically from behind her glass of wine.

  Wow, the beach! Tully thought, her heart skipping with excitement. It’s been ages since I’ve been . . .

  ‘Remember the last time the oldies took us to the beach, Tull?’

  How could I forget?! Her father had given her an earful about missing her shift at Macca’s and the money she would’ve earned. ‘I’d love to go to Bribie, Tam, but—’

  ‘But nothing. Work, and horses, and everything else will be here when we get back. It’s only one night! I’ll get something organised . . . this New Year’s is gonna be in-sane!’

  ‘Hopefully, Tim-Tam.’

  ‘You’re gonna have the best sweet sixteen summer ever darlin’, despite everything that’s going on.’

  Tully smiled gratefully and sipped at her raspberry lemonade. Her mother had always organised her parties. It wouldn’t be the same without her, Tully hoped she could handle the pain.

  The girls headed to Tam’s room as soon as they’d polished off their mains and second helping of sticky date pudding for dessert. Tam jumped straight up on the huge queen-sized bed and started to bounce, scattering the purple cushions all over the place and laughing as Tully chucked them back at her. Tully had always admired Tam’s room, with its white French
-style furniture and bay window overlooking the garden and the horse paddocks and barn.

  They changed into their pajamas and curled up on the lush bed with pillows, blankets, a bowl of popcorn and a pack of Tim-Tam’s, to watch Phar Lap winning that race for about the 56th time. Tully hadn’t worn her PJ’s since the middle of winter, but she sure loved the feeling of being all snugly and warm inside the air-conditioned room. Her pink pony-heart PJ’s were at least two sizes too small and only stretched about half way down her arms and legs. ‘We need to get you some sexier ones, Tull,’ Tam said, snuggling in next to her.

  ‘Whatevs,’ Tully said, elbowing Tam in the side. They polished off the chocolate first, before hooking into the popcorn and should have been safely engrossed in the movie when Tam turned to Tully and said, ‘So, have you seen the boy since your race?’

  ‘Huh?’ Tully said, fumbling not to spill the popcorn into her lap.

  Tam turned to face her. ‘You heard me, darlin’.’

  ‘Um, no.’ Tully glanced away. She knew her red hot face and reluctant smile were giving her away, but there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  ‘Tully!’ Tam sat straight up, her eyes burning through Tully’s skull. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing!’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘I dunno.’

  ‘You are such a liar!’

  How does she know?!

  ‘Tell me.’

  Tully rolled her eyes and pushed her hands into her lap, rocking back and forth. She considered keeping up the lie, but the name was literally on the tip of her tongue, begging to be said. ‘I’m pretty sure,’ Tully said, taking a quick breath. ‘I’m pretty sure it was Brandon Weston.’

  ‘What?!’ Tam screeched, her hands wrapping over her mouth. ‘Holy heck, that’s seriously major!’ She hopped up and clapped, before pausing, a finger to her chin. ‘I saw him the other night at Macca’s, actually,’ she said, tilting her head to the side. ‘Hey – d’ya reckon he was lookin’ for you?’