To keep her father’s attention, Lainey leapt off his knee and up onto the rocking horse Mr and Mrs Harras had brought over, their boys having been too old for it for years. When ordinary rocking didn’t seem to be achieving her aim she fetched out the small willow switch under the saddle. Crouching up like a jockey she began to use it down the shoulder at first.
‘Hey, darling.’ Her father was all eyes now.
In response she flogged the horse harder, whirling the whip in circles down the rocking horse’s flank.
‘Hey, Lainey! What ya bloomin well up to? Gunna upset George.’ Noah bent down to plonk George into Roley’s lap. ‘She’s worse than a flying fox. Can’t keep still a moment.’
‘This one has bin playin up!’ shouted Lainey.
‘Has he now?’ said Roley.
‘Yes he has too!’
‘So what ya gunna do?’
‘Well if the friggin bitch don’t settle in a minute it’s over to Kennedy’s to see stallion.’
Roley’s eyes met his wife’s.
Although on some other night it might well have led to tears, Lainey’s mouth being washed out with soap and water, the girl’s triumph was complete when, swinging round, she caught the shock of laughter coming up out of all of them. Even George, waving his own bright lollipop, like he knew exactly.
‘Get the rocking horse pregnant if it doesn’t behave. Oh, the things they come out with!’
‘Getting her mother’s mouth I’m afraid.’ Noah couldn’t take her eyes off Roley. ‘It’s me what needs her mouth washed out.’
‘Might just be we have to do that, Nella,’ he said, because every time he came back it was as if they were married again for the first time. Everything stayed fresh. Everything sprang with hope, even her hair.
‘By jeez,’ he said. ‘Reckon we could stuff a few saddles with that.’ He put a finger to her curls.
She could tell that he must’ve just had a haircut for the homecoming by the way his ears were standing out. His eyelashes were so thick they were like black ferns over bright water.
Roley, so glad to be home, couldn’t pretend to be angry. ‘We’ll let it go this once, Laine, but that ain’t no language for anyone, let alone a little girl. Lucky yer Nin was over in Main House and weren’t listening or it’d be trouble for you.’
Although in one way these would be the best years, it was also the start of the worried years. This was nothing to do with either the drought, or the beginning of that pretend war getting going on the other side of the world, or even the decision they’d reached that if Gurlie the old Chalcey mare hadn’t fallen this time then that was that. Have to cut their losses. To sale yard she’d have to go.
The worry was to do with what Roley began to tell Noah once George and Lainey, their mouths still sticky, had fallen asleep, curled up in bed around their hot rocks like a little pair of pups.
‘Well the thing is this, darlin—somethin in me legs. In a bit of strife. I might seem spruiky but they’re not. To tell you the truth they’ve bin givin me jip. Nearly can’t move that left foot when it gets a bit hot. It’s the strangest thing. Ever since that hit of lightning before George come.’ He struggled to find the words. ‘’Bout two year ago it’d be that I realised it was getting into me right side as well. And when it comes, the feeling goes.’
‘What do you mean, “it”?’
‘This damned numbness. Any rate, up until Sydney I managed. But at the Royal, even in the hunts—I’m pretty sure me balance is goin.’ He felt the bewilderment in him opening out like country that couldn’t be fenced.
Noah, unwilling to comprehend the little Roley had divulged, responded abruptly. ‘Hope you haven’t forgotten it’s Wirri on weekend after next and me and Min got you entered in everything. Prize money’s all gone up, you know.’
As if there was a choice. ‘Darlin, I’m that itchy-footed to get our truck and that happenin. Just had to let you know. Alright? Course I haven’t forgot Wirri. What you take me for? Me memory wasn’t struck now, was it? Let’s say I’ll give it a try. Put me best in . . .’
‘But look!’ Noah picked up the clippings he’d brought home. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, or if someone else has taken to copying Rowley Nancarrow and fooled even the newspapers, but this here is you flying that old Albert over seven less than a month ago, ain’t it?’
‘It was a fluke, Noey.’ Roley kept his voice low and reassuring as if talking to a spooked horse. ‘That ol horse knows me so well he decided to take pity. Easter and all. The crowds in Sydney had never been bigger. On Good Friday close to one hundred and fifty thousand. Thought it best to mention that things ’re not ’zactly right. It’s why I was out of the money at Maitland, then Newcastle. Why do you reckon Athol got someone else to ride for him at Bathurst?’
Seeing that Noah had shut her mind to the information, he didn’t go on to tell how he’d nearly flown sideways off the horse at the peak of that jump pictured in the bit of newspaper she was still holding. In her consternation she’d picked up what was left of George’s lollipop off the floor and was gnawing at it like some bloody windsucker of a racehorse.
That feeling that used to bring his arms spread out in the joy of it all? Gone. He would’ve fallen off the horse but that old Albert had gone out of his way to land kind.
‘Oh Rol.’ Noah came closer now. ‘You did look a bit stiff. Almost like you was in callipers. Just from the train is what we thought. No stiffer than anyone else.’
‘It’s the strangest thing.’
‘Entered Lainey in the tiny tots. Ral’s putting in her jam tarts and says she’ll pack up a picnic we’ll never forget.’ As if putting forward the thought of their first Wirri as a family was the solution.
‘Here, give us a go at that.’ Roley took a turn at the lollipop and for a moment the mood in the hut kitchen lightened. As if connected, in his sleep George let out a hoot.
‘And George?’ said Roley, getting to his feet to go and look at the children asleep in the bed in the corner. ‘Gotta give George his first Wirri. Specially cos there’s talk war’s gunna close down all the shows if it’s not over next year.’
‘Well, we put him and Laine down for quietest child’s pony. Can see on the day if ol Tad is going to behave.’
Speaking of quiet, in their own bed that night, though they hadn’t seen each other since January, all was very quiet. She heard Roley’s breath change to sleep and felt her desire for him as a hole so big it was a wonder anyone could lie there so seemingly peaceful. But he was dog-tired, she reminded herself, and worried not only about his walking but about the war. One of his Loxton cousins had joined up with talk of some cousins on his mother’s side doing the same.
Must’ve just been bunging it on a bit, Noah thought after the day at Wirri Show, her happiness returning. What bloody rubbish that he thought anything was the matter. She’d even run a few tests without telling him. Slyly picking up the pace whenever they were walking somewhere together. No worries. There didn’t seem a thing wrong. Then riding with him in the novice pairs on some new horses of Hirrips’, and just like the olden days before they were married, they began to scoop the pool. Only thing a bit different was that as they ate lunch, everyone soaking up the lovely autumn sun, Rol chose to sit in the shade.
All day, Roley jumped wearing the surprise that Ralda, under instruction from Noah, had been working on in his absence. The Nancarrow jumping colours were a miracle in themselves, being big golden hearts glowing on a turkey red background. The hearts seemed to hold all their high hopes so safely anything seemed possible.
Maybe the best bit of the day was when Len Cousins revealed that in a hen coop at the front of his truck was a tame joey for Lainey and George to have a borrow of for the quietest child’s pony. When it came time for the final judging, Lainey made George sit fair underneath Tadpole’s belly then joined him there with the joey sitting between them. The judge, the notoriously biased Milton Maroney, had no choice but to say that the Nancarrows were the winners
, hands down.
At first the road home was thick with stories. Len had all their horses and his too in the back of his new lorry. Although Lainey could’ve gone home earlier with Pop, George and the joey, she’d insisted that she was going nowhere without her father. She was squashed in between her parents, struggling not to sleep so that she could soak in all the talk.
‘What about what’s-his-name on that horse Wheelbarra? Against the height of that other pony? If that isn’t cheatin then call me Black Charlie.’
‘And Abbey Smith—fairly tanked, wasn’t he?’
Making Noah think how lucky it was that her own father Cecil had left the high-jump circuit soon after she married. No longer any risk of him popping up half-paralytic at this show or that. Gone off droving again up in far northern New South Wales and even across into Queensland.
‘What did you make of that new hack judge?’ Len drove the truck so slowly it was like a nursery rhyme, lulling them all.
‘Well, if you’re looking for my opinion,’ answered Noah, ‘wouldn’t trust it as far as I could kick him and that wouldn’t be far. The fat on it.’
‘Still. Didn’t stop him from seeing how good Lainey rode in the tiny tots, did it?’
Inside the rich flow of congenial bitching, the small complaints and injustices recalled, warmth at the rightness of how the show had passed was spreading through the front of the truck. The weather had been perfect. The autumn sun had lit up the sulky harness horses in a way that made it impossible to believe that cars would be the go sooner rather than later.
From the truck’s rear-view mirror dangled all the ribbons except for George’s, which had gone home with him. Passing the Flaggy Creek wine shanty Noah was feeling so pleased that she didn’t even think to remember the pig drove or what had happened just close to here so long ago. She could hear the sound of Len’s Clydies in the back of the truck, shifting their weight against each other as they rounded the bends; she could hear the breath of her daughter under the laughter of the men, growing deeper, but struggling not to go right under. The cab of the truck was so full of contentment it was as if some of the peace of an emptied showground, something round and whole and quiet, was also travelling home with them. Something blessed. Everything possible.
Although Roley had almost no feeling remaining in either his left foot or hand, nothing could dint his happiness. ‘And George, eh? With all his whatnots. He was really the goods. Wonder Tadpole didn’t get the wind up when George blasted that whistle off.’
In the sky even the new moon was smiling. It hung in the south-west right over Main House where George lay curled asleep, Ralda bending to untwine the blue length of ribbon twisted like someone had been dancing the maypole around his neck. It hung too over the Chalcey mare still not in foal for certain at One Tree Farm. Roley could hear old Kingy Cooper, one of the last on this stretch of road to hold out against buying or borrowing a tractor, still at work in his paddock. ‘Oop there, Blackie. C’mon, Rose. Come over.’ In the cool air flowing through the top bit of the window he thought he could smell in the fresh-turned earth winter coming, and maybe turnips planted. ‘C’mon, Rosey.’
The thin crescent moon was like a happy mouth, made of silver. Then two twinkling stars, in exactly the right place for eyes. From out of her pocket Lainey drew the corner piece of Aunty Ralda’s Blanket Icing she’d been saving. Her father was smoking and Lainey, looking from him to the moon to the little red tip of his smoke, thought she’d never been so happy.
No one saw the moon except for Lainey, and unable to know that she would never see it in that position again she let the truck rock her to sleep at last, the icing falling into her lap.
Noah, missing the moon altogether, was trying to work out why yet again she’d made a mistake once the high jump had been raised to seven foot. ‘What is it, Rol? Why did we pull that rail?’
‘Reckon it was just bad luck.’ Roley switched his smoke to the other hand in order to caress the back of his wife’s neck. ‘That gelding of Hirrips’ can be like that. Mucking up before he’ll face the fence.’
She could smell Champion Ruby Cut. She could smell leather polished up with special yellow saddle soap, and the sweat of both her husband and horses. Underneath those good scents her disappointment hardly had the strength to stand up.
‘Always next year,’ put in Len.
‘That’s right,’ said Noah, curbing her impatience. There would be other chances. ‘Maybe if I’d swung in a little bit wider. Given him a longer run-up. Still—’ by way of consolation, she turned to talking of her husband’s day, ‘—reckon, Roley,’ and as she spoke she couldn’t help that the pride grew fat in her voice, ‘reckon that today might mean you’ve been over seven foot more than fifty times now. Min and me was trying to add it up.’
‘Reckon you might be right,’ he responded, the relief sweeping into him too that today his legs had seemed almost like new. Enough to mean that his old position had just happened. His arms opening out to the sky. The glory of everything just right as the horse came down the other side and he picked the reins back up. As nonchalant, as easy as that. At Wirri, the showground of his childhood, cantering into the applause of the crowd jam-packed around the ring to see the event.
‘Would’ve been that thrilling if we’d both won.’ In the dark she pulled her hair back into a tighter knot and for a moment, even inside the rich rightness of the truck, scowled. She knew it wasn’t the height that frightened her; rather some faltering of belief that of course went instantly from her hands and legs to the horse.
‘Second. That’s pretty good too, Noh,’ soothed Len, who understood his neighbour pretty well. ‘And bloomin nearly got there. Six foot nine—that was the open record at Grafton for more years than you’d know. So you equalled that.’
‘Should’ve et another of Ral’s gingernuts. Told you that,’ joked Roley. ‘And maybe I was particularly lucky cos I got to wear the new Nancarrow colours.’
‘And by gee,’ said Len, ‘no missing you in those.’
‘And there’ll always be next year,’ one of them said again.
The day after the show they worked hard as usual, Roley off with Sept, Noah with half the herd milked before Minna even out of bed, then seeing to the horses.
The hard work kept the young couple from thinking of the night coming but even so, underneath their weary muscles and sweaty brows, their fear grew. The fear concerned that which neither had the faintest clue how to voice. Bigger than the highest jump, wider than the largest water, it saw them begin to go to bed at different times.
By springtime of the same year they looked away from each other when the merry jokes started up that wasn’t it about time they got another baby happening? They saw the jaca changing yellower each week and Ralda fit to burst with excitement about how the strawberries were shaping up. There were two ten-foot rows, absolutely loaded.
‘Any day now,’ they heard her telling George as she and Lainey shooed him away from the ripening berries. ‘Don’t know how many strawbs there’ll be but we’ll have a feast.’ George letting out a few whoops to make up for the silence of his mother and father but Ralda seriously disconcerted that, unlike other years, Rol and Noey seemed to have stopped scheming for her on how to keep back a bit of cream for the first picking.
CHAPTER 7
The following year, with the war seeing an end to all the shows, many of the greatest jumping teams were being sold. The Sandersons had dissolved theirs and the Hirrip brothers were probably going to be next.
These are the hallowed years, here is your golden day. Roll up roll up roll up, drummed the hooves of Seabreeze, the genuinely famous horse Sept and Rol had agreed they’d be mad not to buy off Withrows. These are the golden days, here are your chances, but by now Noah knew the land could tell lies. The rhythm was coming up into her boots after she’d let the horse go in home paddock.
‘How do you intend feeding another hungry horse?’ asked Minna, looking out to Seabreeze carrying on with the gr
ey pony that Sept had recently bought on impulse for George. ‘Sixteenth frost in a row. Or am I the only one been counting?’
‘Don’t you worry, Mum,’ Sept said. ‘We’ll keep ol Breezy going with that molasses pigs never got to finish. Noey’ll file his teeth. Won’t you, Noh?’
‘Bit of bran and pollard and that,’ agreed Noah. ‘They’ll be right. But mind not too much molasses,’ and leant back so that the front two legs of her chair left the ground. ‘Cos according to my uncle a molasses-addicted horse ends up with the equivalent of polio.’ And couldn’t help but wonder if Roley had dipped a spoon into the molasses drum one too many times as a boy. As if liquid blackness, nothing to do with any lightning after all, might’ve been the beginning of all his problems.
‘How old is it anyway?’
‘Well,’ ventured Septimus, ‘got a bit of age on him has Seabreeze. Rising eighteen,’ he said, automatically slicing off a few years to lessen Min’s horror. ‘But so what? A horse of his ability could be good for another decade. You ask your sister next time you see her. Get Irmie to tell you about the great old Raymond at twenty-nine and what he jumped for her.’
For a moment they all looked over to the grease-spattered photograph of Aunty Irma in its frame on the wall as if it might talk.
‘If Gurlie’s fallen she’ll be needin a bit of feed too,’ continued Sept. His cheeks filled with a sense of triumph. Seabreeze for the Nancarrow team. You couldn’t get better than that.
‘How many more years are you going to keep hoping with that old mare?’ said Minna, jabbing at the coals of the Lighthouse.
‘Now Mum, I reckon she’ll have a foal next year.’
What about me own self ? Noah was thinking, and would’ve liked to give the firebox a few savage pokes herself. Would there ever be another baby for her and Rol? She comforted herself with silent comparisons. At least I won’t end up all slummocky in the way of Doss Cousins, who said after her fourth there was no getting her figure back. At least there’ll be more time for the horses.
Foal's Bread Page 9