PD
I stared at the words. The horse in Victoria was also called Flame. Tingles ran down into my belly and coalesced into a rock. That surely couldn’t be a coincidence. I opened the photo. It was a bit blurry, maybe taken with a mobile phone, but the chestnut mare had the same thin, white stripe as Flame, the same white socks at the rear. She was slightly stockier, with more bone than Flame, but other than that, she was similar. Uncannily similar.
I didn’t reply to Penny Dreadful. There was nothing I could say without getting deeper into it. Instead, I dealt with the two emails for cabin bookings, one for the weekend—the day after tomorrow—the other for a couple of weeks’ time.
I opened the builder’s email. He said he could come and start site prep in three weeks’ time, with the works above ground to follow on a month later. It wasn’t ideal, given that the imminent wet season could turn the ground into a morass and wash out any underground work, but it was the best he could do, so I sent an email accepting that.
I went into the kitchen and tidied up, fed Tess, and made a coffee, which I drank on the veranda. The slow turn of the ceiling fan made the heat almost bearable. For a few minutes, I relaxed, listening to the shrieking chatter of corellas as they did an early morning fly-past. Tess raised her head but didn’t bark.
Josie arrived when I was in the barn, and the first I knew of her arrival was Tess, who wagged her tail and gave two short barks.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Josie stroked Tess’s head. “She looks happier each time I see her.”
Tess pressed her head into Josie’s hand. I envied my dog.
Josie was wearing shorts again, and I realised why. She wasn’t presuming we would ride. She’d taken that part of our friendship as being over. The thought saddened me. Riding with Josie had been something I’d looked forward to.
It was on the tip of my tongue to suggest we go for a ride, but I bit it back. Instead, I told her about the forums I’d found and the posts talking about horses that looked like Fiery Lights. I said I’d emailed someone in Victoria who knew of one such horse.
“I had a reply from her,” I said. “She sent a photo. The horse in Victoria is the spit of Fiery Lights. And she’s also called Flame.”
Josie’s eyes widened. “Really? That can’t be a coincidence.”
“That’s what I thought. The horse is obviously a thoroughbred. I wish we could get a look at the microchip.”
“Could you ask your forum friend to read it?”
“Not really. You don’t know who you’re talking to on the other side of an email. She could even be your Flame’s owner posing as a random person just to see if anyone is suspicious. Plus it’s a big ask to get someone to borrow a chip reader and all that.”
“We’ve got a horse called Flame with a chip that says she’s Fiery Lights. What if this horse in Victoria has a chip that says she’s Flame? What if it’s a simple old-fashioned switcheroo? What if it’s really Fiery Lights down there in Victoria, and they’re going to enter her in some race as ‘Flame’ at huge odds, and she’ll clean up?”
“Possible.” I thought a bit harder. “Probable. I think that was done a long time ago, in the ‘80s, maybe. I think that’s one of the reasons microchips were brought in. But if you have two horses that are the spit of each other and you manage to swap the chips, then it would be a lot harder to detect.”
Josie leant her arms on the railing, watching as I swept the bedding into a corner of Diesel’s stall. “We should go to Victoria.”
“What?” I straightened and stared at her, mouth agape. “Go to Victoria? Why?”
“With the chip reader. Do you still have it?”
“Yeah, I forgot to give it back to Alain.”
“Must be fate. If he doesn’t need it back for a couple more days, we can fly to Melbourne, drive to the stables—did your forum friend say which one it is?”
I nodded. “It was in her original post as she was promoting the trail-ride business. It’s in the Yarra Valley, about two hours out of Melbourne.”
“Easy, then. We hire a car at the airport and drive to the Yarra Valley, find the horse, read the chip in its neck, and then decide what to do after that.”
“Fly to Melbourne?” I realised how stupid I must sound. Josie wasn’t asking me to fly halfway around the world. She was suggesting we take a four-hour domestic flight. Very little advance planning required. “It seems like a lot of trouble.”
“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, Felix, but I think I will. After all, I’m the one who’s likely to end up in trouble for this. I’m the one who took possession of stolen goods—if that’s what Flame is.”
She stepped aside as I exited Diesel’s stall and walked out into the sunlight with a water bucket. Her casual acceptance that she would fly halfway around Australia to clear her name floored me. But then, what was so strange about that? I wasn’t so stuck in the mud that I wouldn’t do something like this; it was just that I never had. The little travel I’d done previously was planned months ahead, and usually by someone else: my parents or the school. All I’d had to do was show up.
But I wasn’t Josie. I wasn’t free as a bird, a flitter, a drifter. I had responsibilities, and most of them were staring me in the face right now: seven horses, a campground, cabins, a business, campers. And now Tess, who was sitting in the dust at my feet with a hangdog expression on her face.
“I can’t. This doesn’t run itself.” I gestured weakly at the surrounds.
“Would you come if you could?”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said. And then, “Yes. Definitely.” It was easier to be definite about something that wouldn’t happen.
“Okay, then.”
I stopped. What did that even mean? Okay that I couldn’t come, but she would go? Okay that she accepted my reasons? Okay that she would forget about it? I turned to ask her, but the yard was empty apart from me and Tess.
I stared at the space where Josie had been for a second and then shrugged and continued my chores.
I’d swept the barn, been out to the paddock, checked on all the horses, and made a circuit of the empty campground when she caught up with me.
“That’s sorted,” she said. “Sue and Moni will arrive tomorrow to look after things here, and we can fly to Melbourne. They’re fine for five days. Any longer than that might be difficult for them.”
“Sue and Moni? Coming here?”
“Yeah. I called Sue. I hope you don’t mind, but I used your phone. I’ll pay for the call.”
“You called Sue?” I was beginning to sound ridiculous, but my brain was fixated on Josie’s casual usurping of my life.
“Yeah. You said you’d come if you could. And who else would you trust to mind the place for a few days?”
“I wouldn’t have asked them. It’s too much of an imposition.”
“I looked up Sue’s number and called. I told her what was going on with Flame and why I was calling. She said, ‘Leave it to me.’ Then she rang back fifteen minutes later. She and Moni will be here at dusk tomorrow. They can stay until Monday afternoon. They were delighted.”
“What about the campers? And I can‘t ask Sue and Moni to clean toilets!”
“Why not? They clean their own. Just because they’re a lawyer and a doctor doesn’t mean they don’t do manual work.”
“They have a housekeeper. Mrs T cleans their toilets.”
“You know them better than me, but honestly, Felix, they don’t mind. Sue said you’d jib like a horse at a gate. She said to call her.”
She fell into step with me as I headed for the house. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe her, but I’d never left Jayboro in the hands of someone else since I’d opened the campground. I wanted to make sure Sue and Moni knew what they were in for, even if it was only for five days.
Josie perched on the end of the desk as I called Sue.
She answered on the second ring. “Whitely and Brent Law, Sue speaking.”
When she recognised my voice, s
he said, “I’ve just lost a bet. I said to Moni you’d wait at least an hour before calling. Twenty-two minutes. Not that I was timing you or anything.”
“You lawyers are good at timing,” I teased. “I know all about your six-minute billing increments.”
“Industry standard. Just like you provide fresh milk in the camp kitchen.”
In truth, I knew Sue’s six-minute increments would often run to double that, and she often undercharged her clients.
“Moni and I will be there tomorrow,” said Sue. “I called Moni at the surgery, and she’s already arranged for her part-time doctor to cover. I’m not particularly busy; I can swing it. We were thinking of having a long weekend away somewhere. Jayboro will be perfect—if you trust us with your business, that is.”
“There’s nobody better.” I shifted the phone to my other ear. “But Sue, there’s work to do. I have a booking for a cabin. There might be campers, trail rides, horses—”
“Felix, shut up. We’d love to do it. Just tell me what we’d have to do.”
I lined up the thoughts in my head. “Well, greet the guests, check emails for bookings, clean the amenities block, clean the cabins, check on the horses, feed them hay daily, check the water trough, oh, and of course, there’s Tess now—”
“Tess?”
“I hope Ripper doesn’t eat her. You are bringing him, aren’t you?”
“Of course. Is Tess human or what?”
“She’s my dog.”
“Dog. Of course. She’s got such a doggie name. Felix, how about Moni and I try and make it early afternoon tomorrow, then you can show us exactly what needs doing.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“We’d love to. Honestly. From what Josie said, you have good reason to go. And we get to stay somewhere beautiful, go riding anytime we want, and relax away from the metropolis of Mungabilly Creek and its eight hundred residents. Don’t worry about Rip. He’s cool around other dogs.”
“Come in the four-wheel drive, and you can stay in the house. Unless you want to bring the camper, of course.”
“House will be good. Thank you.”
I hung up and stared wide-eyed at Josie. I’d never done anything so impulsive before, and the logistics were starting to build a wall in front of my eyes.
She hopped down from the desk. “Great. Now let’s book our flights. Can I drive?” She gestured to the computer.
I shifted to one side to allow her to sit. “Be my guest.”
She pulled up a chair and started clicking and typing. “It would be best if we could fly from the Isa to Melbourne. I doubt there are direct flights—we’ll probably have to change planes in Brisbane or Sydney.”
For a moment, there was silence, and then she said, “Hmmm. Now that’s annoying.”
“What?” I moved closer again so that I could see.
“There’s only a flight from Mount Isa every other day. That’s yesterday and Friday. But Friday’s flight is chockers. Completely booked. Sue and Moni are arriving tomorrow and have five days. If you wait until they arrive, there won’t be time to get to Melbourne and back if we fly from the Isa.” She clicked and typed some more. “However, if we leave tomorrow morning, we can drive to Townsville by nightfall, get a late flight and be in Melbourne by midnight the same day.”
“Sue and Moni won’t be here until the afternoon.”
“They can let themselves in. You don’t lock the house anyway. Leave a note with instructions.”
“What if they get delayed? What if there’s a problem?”
“Felix.” Her exasperated sigh shuddered through the room. “You said you’d come. I would like you to come. Really, what can happen in the six or so hours when the place is unattended?” She scooted her chair around the desk and picked up my hand from where it was clenched on the desk. “I admit my motives aren’t pure. We were well on the way to…well, something, you and I. Kisses. And I hoped there would be more. But now, since you don’t entirely believe me, that’s all gone west. I’m not saying I blame you, but I want to try and get back what we had. You coming with me is part of that. Please, Felix. Say you’ll come.”
I stared at her light brown eyes, lit with hope and something else, something undefinable, but also promise.
I turned my hand so that I could link her fingers. “I’ll come. Book the flights.”
CHAPTER 18
We left at dawn the next morning. I’d spent an hour typing a long list of instructions for Sue and Moni, but I knew that Josie was right. They would be fine. Tess had seen us off with sad eyes. Given her history of abandonment, she must have wondered if we’d be coming back.
And then we were speeding along the road with ten hours’ drive in front of us to Townsville. We’d taken my ute in preference to Josie’s old Subaru, and it rattled and bucked its way over the corrugated dirt road out to the main highway. Once it got fully light, I increased speed to ten kilometres over the limit.
Josie sat back and put her feet on the dash and handed me one of the two travel mugs of coffee that we’d made before we left.
She’d returned to Worrindi only long enough to grab some clothes, plead an unexpected emergency to Madge and Chris, and get a few days off. She’d then come back to Jayboro. To save time, she’d slept in my spare room rather than pitch her tent. And so she banged on my door at just gone four, when the dawn was still a faint eastern glow.
Our flight wasn’t until seven that evening, but we were allowing for the unexpected. We made good time on the paved road, pushing the ute when it was safe to do so and buying sandwiches at fuel stations, rather than stopping for a proper lunch. Josie shared the driving, which allowed me to watch her under the guise of looking out of the driver’s window. She had a slight wrinkle in her forehead above her cheap sunnies, and her hands either relaxed on the wheel or impatiently pushed buttons on the radio to find something to listen to other than news.
We pulled into the car park at Townsville airport just before four, which left us plenty of time to grab a beer and a bite to eat before boarding.
Once on the plane, Josie propped her head against the bulkhead and immediately fell asleep, so I stared across her out the window as the plane lifted off. As it dipped a wing and circled, I had an ideal view of the coast and the blue, blue Coral Sea. Then it headed inland, crossing the outback as night fell.
Queensland’s lack of daylight saving put us an hour behind the other eastern states, which meant we didn’t touch down in Melbourne until midnight. Neither of us had thought to book a motel, so we took a bus to the city. The friendly driver told us about a backpackers’ hostel in one of the city laneways that had twenty-four hour check-in, so we headed there through the throngs of late-night revellers and the tantalising smells coming from Chinatown.
It was years since I’d been in a city that was as big and vibrant as Melbourne, let alone in the middle of the night. The noise, the traffic, the strangeness of it all was fascinating, and my head swivelled constantly as I tried to take it in. Josie seemed relaxed and pushed through the crowds spilling out from the laneway bars with a muttered “’Scuse me, mate.” I bobbed along in her wake as she found the hostel, which luckily had two dorm-room bunks available.
By then, I was so tired I just stripped to a T-shirt and knickers and fell into bed, which was as saggy as a hammock and half as wide.
The next morning, we snagged a discount leaflet for car hire from the receptionist and called them. An hour later, we drove away from Melbourne in a tiny, bright yellow car that, after my ute, seemed as small and insubstantial as a matchbox. Josie drove, which I was relieved about, as the early-morning city traffic was fast moving and chaotic. Josie expertly negotiated a hook turn—a road rule peculiar to Melbourne to allow for the trams—and I grinned across at her.
“I am so glad you’re driving. We’d be under that tram by now, needing jaws-of-life extraction, if I were at the wheel.”
“It’s not too bad when you get used to it.” Josie crept along
in first gear in a line of traffic crawling towards the Melbourne Cricket Ground. “Let’s see if we can go a bit further before stopping for breakfast.”
I nodded. The instant coffee we’d had at the backpackers’ would keep me going for a while longer.
It was just over an hour later when we pulled off the highway into the small town of Yarra Glen. By then, I was starving and bursting for a pee and a coffee. We found a bakery in town and sat outside on a bench to eat some tasty bacon-and-egg rolls.
I found the map I’d printed from the internet and studied it. The map said the trail-riding place abutted the state forest, about forty minutes away. Josie slid back behind the wheel, and we started off again.
“This is rather fun.” Josie kept her eyes on the road, but her hand reached over the space between the seats to squeeze mine. “I feel like I’m in a detective show. You know, where the female protagonists banter back and forth and throw sparks off each other before one of them gets captured by the bad guys and the other saves her skin.”
“No capturing,” I said. “And I’m not much good at the banter either. But apart from that, well, maybe.”
“Those shows generally end with one detective going home to her husband, while the other stares moodily into her scotch in a bar and waits for someone to flirt with.”
“No flirting either,” I said.
She glanced at me sideways before she returned her eyes to the road. “None? Really? I was hoping that, as we’re stuck in a car together, there might be just a little.”
I looked out the window to give myself time to collect my thoughts. Victoria’s landscape was very different to outback Queensland. It was only October, still spring, and the winter rains had obviously been kind.
“Are you going to answer me?” Josie’s voice had an amused lilt to it, as if she knew my inner dilemma. “Or are you going to change the subject and talk about the scenery?”
I faced her again, wishing the matchbox car had a little more room. “We need to sort out about Flame before we can consider flirting.”
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