Race Girl

by Leigh Hutton

  Tully let out a quick breath, shoving her hands into the pockets of her shorts. She forced herself forward, gritting her teeth against the anger – she needed to help him, not yell at him. It was now or never. ‘We need to get this place cleaned up, Dad,’ she said gently, kneeling down beside him and slipping the bottle from his hands, setting it carefully on the coffee table.

  His eyes didn’t leave the screen of the TV, but he did lift a hand, running it over the salt and pepper stubble on his face.

  ‘We’ve got empty paddocks and people are always looking for agistment. I know you haven’t wanted outside horses here, but now . . .’ Tully swallowed and took a breath to steady her nerves before continuing, ‘Now that things have changed—’

  Gerald shook his head dismissively, but Tully kept going.

  ‘Yes, Dad, things have changed, and we need to change with them.’

  ‘Not as easy as that, Tully.’

  ‘I know it isn’t easy, Dad, but we have to try. The extra money would really help to pay the bills, and hopefully catch up on the mortgage so Weston can’t buy us out, right? We just need to get a few more paddocks fixed up, then we’ll be right. Tam was talking to Judy about it, and she—’

  Gerald shifted in his seat, sitting up a little straighter. ‘Don’t go talking about our problems with kids from school; we don’t need anyone’s sympathy!’

  ‘Tam isn’t just some kid from school, Dad—c’mon, you know that! She’s my best friend, she’s always been my best friend. You know how Mum . . .’ Tully stopped herself, knowing she’d gone too far. ‘Dad—sorry, okay, I won’t talk to anyone, just let me fix the paddocks up. Please?’

  ‘Fixing fences costs money.’

  ‘Bucko mentioned he has a mate at the hardware. And I’m happy to do the work.’

  ‘Fencing isn’t easy work.’

  ‘I’ve fixed a fence before!’

  Gerald sighed and retrieved his bottle from the coffee table. Tully pushed on.

  ‘I’m sure Bucko and Grace will help. I just need Cameron’s number, so I can ring him and see if he has any horses that need spelling.’

  ‘We are not getting Cameron Bloody Macintosh’s horses in here!’ her father exploded, standing up and wagging a finger at her.

  Tully’s eyes went wide and she took a step back, before stammering, ‘But why not? Mum always spoke very highly of him, and he’s got a lot of horses going on the Gold Coast now.’

  Gerald shook his head firmly, his face tightening and turning red with what Tully guessed was rage. ‘You’re not gonna bloody drop this, are ya?’ he said.

  She wanted to shy away, but instead squared her shoulders. ‘I’m not just gonna give up on Avalon.’

  Gerald turned to face her, studying her face. His eyes were squinty and streaked with red lines, with pain that made Tully flinch. ‘You’re just like her, you know that?’

  Tully’s heart throbbed, her father’s words stinging more than she was sure they should have, and she wasn’t sure why. She wanted to have her mum’s guts, her courage. But it was also her mother’s bravery that had taken her away from Tully. From her family. At that moment, Tully wished her mother had been weaker, like she feared she herself was.

  ‘Fine,’ her father said, sitting back down, his fingers pressed to his temples. ‘But we aren’t dealing with Cameron, no way in heck. Call Barnsey, I heard he was over capacity at Gulherin and looking for a new facility to spell a few.’

  Tully swallowed back tears, crossing her arms across her chest. ‘Curtis Barnes, the trainer based at Ipswich?’

  ‘His number’s in the book in the kitchen.’

  ‘Okay.’ Tully watched the TV for a few moments, chewing her lip and thinking about her mum. ‘Thanks, Dad,’ she said, wiping her palms on her shorts before heading for the kitchen.

  Curtis Barnes answered his mobile on the last ring. He sounded delighted to hear from Tully, but when he told her he’d already found a facility not far from Avalon, her heart plummeted. But he kept chatting, asking her about the farm and her father – all questions she answered with what she hoped would be reassuring ‘fines,’ and ‘greats’. Tully geared herself up to be disappointed, but was surprised when Curtis Barnes cleared his throat. ‘But we’ll go with you, Tulls,’ he said. ’As long as you can have five paddocks ready for me by the end of the week.’

  ‘Um, are you sure, Mr. Barnes?’

  He chuckled. ‘Only if you are. Youse’ll be right to feed and rug for me, morning and night?’

  ‘Of course, sir, of course we will! Thank you so much!’

  ‘Always happy to help out an Athens,’ he said, then paused. ‘Get after him, Clarky!’ he yelled away from the phone.

  Tully vibrated on the spot, hopping up from the chair and dancing from foot to foot. She couldn’t wait to tell Grace and Bucko and Tam – their plan had worked.

  ‘See you Friday, Tully.’

  ‘You’re on, Mr. Barnes!’ Tully placed their home phone into the receiver, then marched through into the lounge room. ‘All sweet with Mr. Barnes,’ she said. ‘We didn’t talk dollars, but you can sort that with him on Friday, okay?’

  Gerald pursed his lips, then nodded.

  ‘Have you entered Rosie for Saturday yet, Dad?’

  He sighed heavily, slipping his cap back onto his head. ‘Not unless Bucko has.’

  ‘Well, you guys better get onto it—there should still be time to get an entry in. We need the money, Dad, and you need to get back out there.’ Tully didn’t mention that she also wanted him out of the house so she could get back on Greg.

  She was too excited for breakfast. Bucko met her on the verandah in his riding gear, his eyes light with surprise. ‘Tull,’ he said. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Better than a long time,’ she said with a nod. ‘Dad’s taking Rosie to Beaudesert on Saturday.’

  ‘Great plan.’ He nodded, looking past Tully, assessing her father. Gerald rose from his chair, straightened his hat on his head and tucked in his shirt.

  Tully’s face broke into a grin and she hurried down the steps to see Greg and Grace and tell them of the new plans.

  Tully got stuck straight in, starting with the farthest paddock in the row. The summer sun burned her arms as she pulled all the rotten rails down, heaping them in a pile off to the side of the paddock so she could pull all the nails out. She only paused to have a quick vegemite sandwich for afternoon tea under one of the jacarandas, watching Bucko breeze Rosie around the track for her light session. Then it was straight back into it and by sunset she was drenched in sweat, her head pounding from dehydration and her hands bleeding from cuts and blisters. It’d all been worth it, though – she’d managed to pull every drooping, termite, white-ant or horse-eaten rail off the square paddock, ready to straighten the posts and fit the new rails Bucko had picked up that afternoon. He’d even managed to get some new roof sheets, second hand but free from holes or rust, to fix the roofs of the shelters. Grace pulled all the rusted nails from the boards, nearly filling a ten-litre pail.

  Grace got Hawaiian pizzas for dinner, then Tully had a quick, freezing shower before falling into bed. She was hoping for a solid restful sleep so she could get even more done the next day, but woke in a cold sweat, her head pounding and eyes frantically searching the dark for Brandon and Greg. The wonderful, vivid dream of Brandon riding his grey along the road and of her and Greg chasing them had taken a terrifying turn when she lost control and crashed into the fence . . .

  Tully got up to change the Band Aids on her blisters and get a drink of water. Her phone read 1.05am. She lay back on her bed, hugging Bear, but sleep wasn’t coming anytime soon. Her eyes stayed open until the rooster started up down at the stables and her alarm followed at 3.30am – two hours earlier than she got up during school term, but the same time as everyone else on the farm.

  She crawled out of bed, nearly stepping on a plump mouse eating the end out of a muesli bar she must have dropped on her floor the night before. The mouse scurried
into a crack in the VJ, too fast to catch. Tully chucked the muesli bar in the kitchen bin, before returning to pull on her shorts and polo shirt, determined to get stuck into work and get her mind off the nightmare still lingering. She fed up the horses, then worked on the fences through a peaceful lavender sunrise, into the day’s heat. By the time Tully stumbled inside for some baked beans on toast for dinner and early bed, she, Grace and Bucko had fixed four of the paddocks and had already started painting one.

  Monday was Tully’s first day shift at work, but she managed to get straight home afterwards with Grace’s help and get stuck into fixing the fifth paddock as promised, ready to take Mr. Barnes’s horses by the end of the week. They even had a few spare paddocks, including the ones recently vacated by Gally and Diva.

  Tully was up before her alarm on Tuesday, hoping for a quick ride on Greg before work as her father and Bucko were taking Rosie in for fast gallops at the track in town.

  Tully ducked into Greg’s stall after tipping his feed into his bucket, then snuck around, listening to him chewing peacefully as she felt each of his legs. He was a bit cow-hocked in the back, so that never worried her. But her heart froze when she got to his off-hind leg. There was definite heat and swelling in the suspensory ligament, and he was resting it, obviously sore. No! Tully thought desperately, feeling his leg again and again, the heat beneath his skin sending needles into her heart.

  7

  Another Hit

  I’ve done this to him.

  The thought ricocheted like a bullet inside Tully’s brain.

  I’ve hurt him.

  Tully ran for the tack room to grab the poultice and leg wraps. ‘I’m so sorry, mate,’ she said soothingly as she smoothed the cool, clay-like substance onto all four of Greg’s legs, then wrapped them up snugly. It was unusual for an injury like this to take so long to come up, but the reality was that their ride was the most strenuous activity he’d done in a long time. She would tell anyone who noticed that the wrapping was mainly precautionary, as he’d tweaked his leg in the paddock. Tully prayed it wasn’t torn again – after the last time it’d taken her and her mum more than ten months to get Greg ready for riding, with eight months of total stall rest and two more of re-training. A lame horse was always on her father’s radar, and now there was no money to feed and keep an expensive ex-racehorse. Greg had already been given way more chances than most.

  I’m so sorry!

  She threw her arms up around Greg’s neck, face buried in his smooth coat, cursing herself. The thoughts came thick and fast as she breathed in his scent, listening to him chewing his breakfast. If I don’t even have a horse to ride, and I’m not sure I have the guts to ride a real racehorse on a real track, then maybe I shouldn’t even bother trying to convince Dad that I need to start my apprenticeship. Maybe I should return to school for Year 11 in eight week’s time, try to find something else to do – like, lead a more normal life?

  But this idea really made Tully uncomfortable. She wouldn’t receive her marks for another few weeks, but she already knew she’d be lucky to scrape by. She couldn’t remember enjoying anything she’d studied all year, with the exception of her agriculture elective and one of the books she’d studied in English. And even then, the best she’d been graded in either of those class assignments was a C. She’d never been a ‘smart kid’ – all she’d ever wanted to do was ride . . .

  ‘Ah—!’ Tully cried, pushing her face further into Greg’s mane. He brought his nose around to her, nibbling at her hair and down her neck. His whiskers tickled so much that she had to laugh. ‘Thanks for always being here for me, matey,’ she whispered, running her hand down his strong, broad face, pressing a kiss onto his black nose.

  Greg stared at Tully for a few wondrous moments, his eyes deep and brown and wise, before swishing his tail and getting back to licking every morsel of chaff from his bucket. Tully kept her arms around his neck, leaning back to watch what he did with his legs. The sick, heavy knot in her stomach tightened. He didn’t seem to be in pain, but he certainly wasn’t putting any weight on that off-hind.

  ★

  The next two days dragged like an anchor at work. Every customer was either sour-faced and difficult, or a kid from school who was annoyingly cheery and excited about their summer –hopeful about their lives. Then Annalise Belgrave and her posse came into the drive through in her brand-new BMW late on Wednesday afternoon, sending Tully spiralling into despair. Annalise, already sixteen, was driving with her older cousin, a dressage girl of the same princess variety. After recognising Tully’s voice, Annalise took a whole four minutes to order, then sneered and dropped her fifty dollar note, making no moves to get out and retrieve it herself.

  Annalise laughed her butt off along with the rest of the girls in the sleek SUV and honked her horn as Tully had to exit the joint, fish the bill out of the hedge, then return with the required McDonald’s smile and serve each girl her identical ‘skinny cappuccino with artificial sweetener with half the normal chocolate on top, served warm not hot’.

  Friggin’ hell. Tully smiled through gritted teeth, imagining how amazing it would feel to tip the coffees in Annalise’s designer-jean-clad lap.

  ‘Have a great day, Tragic!’ Annalise sang as she accepted the tray, then peeled out of the drive through.

  Tully expected the next humiliation she’d have to endure would be Brandon driving in and mocking her hat and uniform. She was relieved, however, to see the next car in line was a maroon station wagon – after seeing Brandon’s quad bike, Tully reckoned he’d for sure drive a flash ute. The relief was shortlived: the lady driving greeted her with a string of expletives surrounding ‘being kept waiting in the heat with her air con broken and four kids playing up in the back’. Tully gave them all free soft serve ice creams for the inconvenience. At least the kids seemed happy.

  She was thrilled to see a friendly face when Tam and her mum came through for frappés a little while later. After getting their mango-flavoured frosty drinks, Tam reached across her mum to Tully. ‘Pick a hand,’ she said, smirking.

  Tully shook her head. ‘You’re gonna get me in sh—’

  ‘Go on!’

  ‘Fine!’ Tully smiled sympathetically at Judy – who was struggling for breath underneath Tam’s full chest – and jabbed at Tam’s right fist.

  ‘Nah!’ Tam said.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Tam!’ Tully said, glancing behind her to make sure Moe wasn’t back from her break.

  Tam brought her left hand around and opened it up, revealing a tiny rearing horse with a flowing black mane and wild eyes. ‘I got one, too,’ Tam said. ‘An early Chrissie pressie from Mum.’

  ‘Take care, love,’ Judy said, giving Tully’s hand a squeeze.

  ‘Thank you so much!’ Tully cuddled the smooth, cool model against her cheek, pressed her lips against its shoulder. ‘Is this a Breyer?’ She’d always wanted one of the coveted horsey collectables.

  Tam nodded, then yelled out as the car behind honked and Judy shifted into ‘Drive’, ‘Sleepover soon, Tulls?’

  Tully gave Tam a thumbs up, waved them off, then kissed her little horse again and tucked it into her breast pocket. She pulled it back out after her shift, while she was waiting out front with Taylor, enjoying the drench of orange sunset across the wide-open paddock beside their workplace, the dark mountain range framing the horizon.

  Tully almost didn’t recognise him, when he pulled alongside her in the rusty dual cab ute. ‘Bucko?’ she said, drifting around to the open driver’s side window. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Hop in, doll,’ Bucko said, a grin lighting up his rugged face in a way she hadn’t seen in months. ‘I’ve got a surprise for ya.’

  8

  The Pink Queenslander

  ‘You’ve gotta tell me where we’re going.’

  Bucko smiled, shook his head gently.

  Tully grinned, hugging her backpack in her lap. Her gaze drifted out to the open paddocks beyond the shop-fronts. The land was heavily
tinted a brilliant mandarin and rich pink, the parrots and lorikeets and galahs out for an evening feed, swooping in the brown grass and chattering in the trees. Tully’s mind whirled, she glanced back at the empty horse trailer squeaking and bumping along behind them. ‘Seriously, Bucko,’ she blurted, leaning across the middle seat, her seatbelt restraint bringing her up short and digging into her chest. ‘What’s going on? Have we picked up another owner?’

  Bucko grinned, clearly enjoying himself. He tipped his hat with his thumb, one hand resting casually on the wheel. They passed the timber yard, then the vet, heading out of town.

  ‘Are we goin’ to Ipswich?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Is that a yes?’

  ‘Probably not.’

  ‘Oh…’ she tossed her hands in the air in frustration, ‘How far are we going?’

  ‘As long as it takes.’

  Tully sighed dramatically, bit her bottom lip. She leaned an elbow on her door, resting her chin in her hand. The old ute creaked and whirred as they drove through the dip in the highway, past a new estate, its houses twinkling with red, green, even purple lights and festive displays reminding her it was only a few weeks until Christmas. On past the wide river land opposite, stretching far into the sunset.

  Her foot started tapping as they blew past the Billabong Hotel, with Santa in his green plastic sleigh being pulled by his reindeer fastened to the roof. Tully’s heart jumped, wondering if they’d be turning into the huge thoroughbred facility on the hill to their right, rivaled in the state only by Weston Park.