Race Girl

by Leigh Hutton

  ‘Oh, yes, sir. Fully.’

  Gerald set his jaw. ‘Well, do me a favour, will you?’ he said. ‘Make sure she’s bein’ smart about it.’

  Tully shook her head, eyes narrowing at her father. ‘Thanks for that, Dad. By the way, being flooded in could be a great time to have a look for Mum’s silks and the purple-star colours, please? If you don’t mind giving me some ideas where I might be able to find them.’

  Gerald turned away, shaking his head. ‘Already told you, they’re lost.’

  Tully let the silence hang in the air, before raising her eyes to Brandon. ‘Is there anything else we can help with, Dad?’

  Gerald got to discussing horse feed provisions and the impending clean up. An hour or so and another cup of tea later, Tully kissed Brandon goodbye on the front verandah, her whole body surging with overwhelming happiness as she watched her boyfriend sprint out into the rain, headed home to help out at Weston Park.

  The rain eventually eased in the wee hours of day four and had stopped by morning. Tully took a cuppa onto the verandah just after sunrise and stood in her PJs, marvelling at the property she felt so fortunate to call home.

  Beams of sun broke through the clouds, lighting up patches of Avalon Downs. A mob of grey kangaroos stood on alert down near the flooded dam, just up from the thundering creek, flowing so furiously under the road into the Westons’ land. A kookaburra landed in a low jacaranda branch and let out a laughing call, then scanned the drenched, muddy ground, searching for worms. A pair of scarlet rosellas burst into an opening of blue sky, before swooping back to the stringy-bark beside the house, chortling away. The land was glorious even in drought, but it was truly magical after rain.

  Tully smiled at the leaves of the gum trees, washed and twinkling in the golden sun. The air was clean from the rain, like she was looking at everything through a fresh, crystal clear lens. The green shoots of grass that had been dormant in the dry were already pushing up to shine. The land would green up for a little while, and Tully prayed for some continual rain to keep it that way for as long as possible. Her fingers crept up to her necklace and she rubbed the cool, diamond horseshoe – her new good luck charm. She would never forget the Easter Ball, the night Brandon Weston became her first boyfriend.

  Tully smiled and turned for the screen door, shrieking when she spotted a giant hunstman spider the size of her hand stuck to the wall just above it. It’s long legs like fingers, nearly taking up the width of two VJ boards. It was the biggest spider she’d ever seen, one creature she would never get used to. Tully shuddered at the thought of the terrifying thing hovering there behind her this whole time, at it hanging above her when she’d walked outside . . .

  Tully spun and raced down the front stairs, her socks soaked by the time she hit the mud, her toes drenched and sticky with it by the time she made it around to the back door, into the sleep-out to grab the broom from the kitchen. She’d found a smaller huntsman in the lounge room on the first day of rain and remembered her father telling her to watch out for them as they often came in for shelter during the rains.

  That afternoon the police called with more questions about the colt and to let them know to be on the lookout and to be vigilant with their horses. Tully called Brandon to make sure he was okay – there was no news about Weston’s prized colt, but Brandon promised to come over the next morning to help Tully with the cleanup.

  She and Brandon got stuck in clearing logs from the fences the next day and getting them mended. Her dad headed out on the tractor to fix up the roads. Tully couldn’t wait to get the horses out of their stalls to enjoy some sun and a run and a roll.

  As soon as the water had receded enough to get out, Brandon drove Tully in to Gulherin to see Dahlia. Dahlia’s head shot up as they entered the barn. She flicked one ear forward at Brandon, the other pinned back, most likely deciding whether to snap or charge him.

  Tully and Brandon stopped a few paces back from her stall. Tully moved forward, slipping Dahlia a whole apple and leaning back to admire her filly. Dahlia’s rich coat gleamed like that of an absolute champion, her bands of ripped muscle and general aura of strength and confidence like horses Tully had only ever seen in photographs. Photos of Northern Dancer, Makybe Diva, American Pharaoh . . . True greats. Tully felt a rush of pride and intense love for her filly, an appreciation for this astounding animal she had the honour of getting to know and race with. She slid inside her stall to give her a hug, more sugar cubes, and to run her hands down Dahlia’s long, strong legs.

  ‘Hello, lovely girl,’ Brandon said, leaning his forearms carefully on the stall door. ‘She’s looking fit.’ Tully marvelled at Dahlia’s gorgeous bay face, with her cheeky white snip like a splash of paint across her muzzle, then scanned her muscular, arched neck, down her tight frame to her huge, powerful hind end.

  ‘Ready for a metro run, I imagine,’ Brandon said. ‘How’s her soundness?’

  Tully smiled when Dahlia turned to her, ears forward, nipping at her hands and pockets. ‘Going really well—touch wood. She still needs a bit more fitness, though. I think Mr. Barnes has some ideas up his sleeve.’ She fed Dahlia the last of the treats, then joined Brandon on the outside, watching as Dahlia moved smoothly across her stall to have a long drink from her waterer.

  ‘Have you hit the beach with her yet?’

  ‘No,’ Tully said, meeting his eyes. ‘Does your dad train on the beach much?’

  ‘He doesn’t as much as I’d like him to. It’s a great way to build their fitness, with low impact on their legs.’

  ‘For sure. I’ll have to have a chat with Mr. Barnes about it.’

  ‘Some jumping can be great for them, too.’

  ‘Would you like to do some jumping, Dahls? Tully asked, rubbing her mane. ‘You’re full of ideas, Weston. When’s your dad gonna make you head trainer?’

  Brandon scoffed. ‘As if that’ll ever happen. I’d love to watch you train, though – if I’m allowed.’

  ‘We’d love that.’ Tully grinned. ‘We’ll be getting back into morning track work as soon as the track re-opens.’

  ‘I’ll be there.’

  ‘I’ll hold ya to it,’ Tully said, glancing down the aisle to make sure they were alone, before reaching forward to steal a kiss. Brandon took her by the elbow. She moulded her body against his, her hands finding their way up inside his jumper. She ran her fingers up the warm ripples of his stomach, over the rounded muscles of his chest.

  ‘Whoa—watch it, Miss Athens,’ he said.

  ‘Or what?’ Tully stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the neck, over his Adam’s apple, up to the concave just behind his ear. He shivered, yanking her closer.

  ‘Or I’ll have to lure you back to my place again.’

  Tully laughed. ‘Wouldn’t be so bad.’

  He reached down, kissed her slowly, sensually, his tongue tracing over her lips.

  ‘Yeah, no,’ Tully said, holding a finger to his lips. ‘On second thought, I’d be happy to avoid your dad.’

  ‘Good answer. I’m always happy coming to yours, but. Come to mention it, how does a steak at the pub for dinner tonight sound?’

  ‘A real date, with Brandon Weston?’

  ‘Promise I won’t wear a tux.’

  Tully grinned, kissed him gently, her fingers curling over his skin. ‘You’re on, handsome.’

  28

  ‘Brisvegas’

  Tully’s first ride on the beach was even more glorious than she’d dreamed it would be. Galloping Dahlia next to Taneisha and Fin the following week at Sandgate, the wide, soft beach stretching out in front of them – ideal at low tide – was the stuff dreams were made of. The commanding force of the sea, crashing waves, the splashes of salt and sand flicked up by the horses’ hooves; the sunrise turning the never-ending expanse of rippling ocean to golden fire. The thrill she experienced of freedom and adventure was comparable to her first ever ride on Frangi, or that first race along the road with Brandon.

  Dahlia especially loved p
laying in the surf and dared to go much further out than Fin to cool off after their gallops, ducking her head right under and pawing until Tully was drenched and whooping with laughter. The filly always beat Fin down the beach and kicked at him terribly in the trailer on the way home – they had to put an extra barrier up inside after she bit chunks out of the gelding next to her on her first journey for Mr. Barnes.

  Dahlia was less impressed by the jumps, however. She ground to a halt in front of the little cross-rail in their first jumps session the following week, sending Tully sailing over her ears. After two more refusals Tully gave in and led her up, let her sniff the jump, and gave Dahlia a few sugar cubes to reward her bravery and to let her know it wasn’t a terrifying pole monster. Tully led her up again and again, then was able to get Dahlia to pop over the fence following her and eventually could take the jump at a run, with Dahlia trotting along beside her, snorting and flicking her head in excitement, then popping huge over the tiny fence. After a few days of this training interspersed with Dahlia’s regular track work, Tully got back on and trotted her up with a firm hand and leg, her stirrups long like a show jumper to get contact with Dahlia’s sides.

  Dahlia surged at the jump, leaping like a jungle cat – her ears pinned forward, knees tucked up tight. She let out a series of bucks after landing and it took all of Tully’s strength to haul her up. She patted Dahlia hard and slipped a few sugar cubes from her pocket, reached down to reward her clever, keen filly.

  ‘That’s it, girls!’ Brandon called from the rail. He and Mr. Barnes exchanged a smile. ‘That’ll loosen you up, and get those muscles working, Dahls.’ They went out for a coffee after training that day. Brandon and Curtis had hit it off like old mates, chatting about horses and upcoming meets.

  Dahlia and Fin were both in fighting form for their next provincial races, and Tully scored her first double with the pair at the Sunshine Coast. But Dahlia pulled up tender after a hard run at the next country meet, so Mr. Barnes suggested she have a two-week spell back at Avalon.

  The filly greeted the only horse she’d ever really tolerated – Wheeler – with a whinny and a squeal, followed by a nose-kissing fest, but she grew antsy and bored after about the first week, chewing at the top rail of the fence and pacing badly. When Mr. Barnes came back to pick her up at the end of the second week, Dahlia dragged Tully up the ramp of the trailer. She ran her fastest time yet in her first gallops that Friday morning. Mr. Barnes decided it was time to try their hand in the big smoke.

  Tully’s first metro ride was a Saturday Ladies’ Day at Doomben. The sheer size of the facility, set in the heart of ‘Brisvegas’, thoroughly overwhelmed Tully and she rode nervously in her first class.

  Mr. Barnes gave them another go the following weekend.

  Tully was determined to cast the looming lawns and grandstands and VIP tents and bars and restaurants packed with rowdy revellers all in their finery from her mind, and focus only on the fluorescent green turf, the white rail to her right and the thundering horses in front.

  The race ended in a dead heat, with Tully and Dahlia being called in fourth – to an eruption from the Curtis Barnes Racing connections in the Owner’s Stand and cheers from Brandon, Tam, Curtis, Fia and all the others from the stable at the rail. Tully and Fin came third in the feature sprint of the day, meaning even more celebrations back at the shed row.

  After making her metro debut and featuring in the local papers, Tully started getting a steady stream of friend requests on Facebook and about a thousand new followers on Instagram – a number that grew daily. She started posting more pics of Dahlia and details about what they were up to and when they were racing next. Fia explained in one of their phone catch-ups that social media could be a powerful tool, if used in a professional manner and Tully began to really enjoy interacting with her growing fan base and other horse mad girls. She especially loved posting pics of her ponies, snapping shots of Greg and Frangi, and a few of her little Breyer, and found a huge contingent of fellow collectors on Instagram. Now and then, she’d load a selfie or two with Peta and Pete, and Simmons and Taneisha – whom she’d been racing with quite consistently – as well as Mr. Barnes and Brandon.

  The pics with Brandon got the most likes – nearly as many as those of Dahlia – and, as time went on, Tully found herself posing more confidently in shots for photographers and her accounts, beaming a confident smile that felt more and more her own.

  ★

  Christmas this year at Avalon finally felt like the holidays of years gone by. Despite the absence of her mother, a year on from her death, Tully’s emotions seemed more to be of sweet nostalgia than searing pain. She was sure Brandon’s presence was making a lot of difference, and he seemed equally thrilled to be part of a rural Christmas, his first since his mother had taken him to live in the city. He helped Tully put up the tree and decorations, even helped to make her father and Bucko, Fia, Tam, Judy and Mr. Barnes a proper Turkey dinner. They did get carried away making out and burned the turkey, but it was still edible, and the garlic mashed potatoes and stuffing they made from Tully’s grandmother’s recipe were, Brandon said, to die for.

  Brandon’s celebratory mood only heightened on Boxing Day, when his mother rang to let him know she’d met a French diplomat and was moving to Paris. ‘Hopefully you’ll never have to meet her,’ he said to Tully, stealing another kiss under the mistletoe, fastened to the archway fretwork in the central hallway. ‘I only ever saw her some weekends – she sent me to an elite Brissie school as a boarder, even though her house was only about twenty minutes away! Then she’d shove me off to footy or cricket or tennis on the weekends . . . I guess it was good I didn’t have to see her much. But it’s all good now. I’m finally free of the city,’

  They celebrated New Year’s with a dinner party at Tam’s, then a few of Brandon’s mates from school, including Heffo – whom Tam had apparently been in touch with – took them out to the pub to see a hard-rocking local band play and to celebrate Tully’s eighteenth.

  Brandon drove Tully home that night, but pulled off on a dirt track just before Mrs. Hoxton’s driveway. They parked and spread a blanket out in the back of his ute, along with a picnic Brandon had organised consisting of two bottles of champagne and a block of Vegemite Cadbury. They lay together in the hot, humid night, under the twinkling silver stars until dawn, kissing and laughing and luxuriating in each other’s company. It was the new best night of Tully’s life – since meeting Brandon she’d had more than a few, and she prayed they would continue.

  The next afternoon Brandon rode his stunning grey mare, Jillaroo, over for a visit, his shaggy little dog with the long floppy ears running along after them. Milo and Bear had hit it off straight away and tore around after each other around the stable yard while Tully tacked up Greg, then bounded up ahead as they set out for a ride up to the lookout. Tully and Brandon egged each other on into a dash up one smooth-ish hill, whooping and yelling encouragement to each other and the horses. Tully and Greg won by a length.

  It wasn’t long until Tully had even more celebrating to do, after finishing her HSC via correspondence and receiving her high school diploma in the mail. Her father framed the diploma and hung it on the wall of the lounge room, but didn’t respond when Tully asked if he’d be coming to watch her next race.

  The wet season brought more bumper storms and enough rainfall to keep the grass green and plentiful for the horses and cattle to graze on. After cleaning up from one particularly wicked tropical cyclone, Tully and Brandon headed out for another ride.

  Brandon rode Frangi out as he’d been distraught when Greg left without him the first time. They cracked up with laughter, Frangi snorting and trying to buck Brandon after they had to ride around a fallen spotted gum at the top of the back paddock. But the pony was thrilled to be out and settled in, trotting happily along next to his best buddy Greg, who was plunging with excitement below Tully. They made it half way to the lookout before the horses needed a rest, turned and headed for hom
e. Brandon’s ropers dangled inches from the moist ground on the roly-poly pony, and his worn Akubra looked even better than that first day on the road. He even let Tully wear it once they got back, when they were grooming the horses and tucking them in their stalls for the night. He had to tip the brim of the wide hat with his thumb when he reached down to kiss her.

  ★

  Brandon finally talked Pearce into letting him train two of Weston Park’s promising colts and was up against Tully and Dahlia late that May in their Queensland Winter Racing Carnival debut.

  Tully and Brandon eyed each other competitively across the mounting enclosure of Doomben, underneath the far-reaching branches of the great fig tree. They both grinned, Tully blushing wildly, wishing she could stop doing that around him. It was so embarrassing and he definitely enjoyed the effect he was having on her a little much for comfort.

  She admired the effortless, powerful way Brandon moved as he strode up to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek for good luck, telling her as he always did to ‘ride safe’. Tully shook her head, grinning, ‘No room for that in this sport, mate!’ Then she winked at Brandon and loped back to help stretch Dahlia’s legs and get her ready for the race.

  Mr. Barnes hadn’t had a runner in the carnival for years; he’d just been focusing on earning his money at provincial meets, but had entered Fin, Dahlia and his best colt, Radical Rae, in classes in the Doomben dates, with Dahlia working up to the prestigious 2400 metre Brisbane Cup. Everyone’s fingers were crossed that Fin’s nomination for Australasia’s premier sprint race – the 1350 metre, $2-million-dollar Stradbroke Handicap – would hopefully be accepted.

  Mr. Barnes called Taneisha back in to ride Fin so Tully could focus solely on Dahlia – it made sense, anyway, as the older, stronger Taneisha had more Group One experience under her belt.

  Fin and Taneisha ran to a solid fourth in the BTC Cup on the first Saturday at Doomben, sending elation through the Barnes Racing camp. Brandon’s new charge, Lucky Strike, however, ran to a lacklustre eighth. Tully avoided the Weston Racing stalls afterwards. Pearce’s bellows could be heard the length of shed row.