Stephanie appeared in his doorway and he glanced up at her.
‘The cops just called,’ Stephanie said, confirming what Hope was telling him.
He frowned then turned his attention back to the phone. ‘Hang on, Hope.’ He looked back at Stephanie. ‘Is that why the cops called?’
She nodded. ‘Yeah. Apparently last week, the council reissued Clancy with his permit to drive his horses on the road and the protesters got wind of it. Last time they caused a stir and scared the horses. It got nasty.’
‘If the council approved the permit, then what’s the issue?
‘Politics,’ Stephanie said with a shrug.
Mitchell didn’t care two hoots about politics, but he did care about Clancy and his horses. Since taking care of Clancy’s cat and accepting Clancy’s offer to help at his house, the two men had become firm friends despite the age difference. Along with Ian, Clancy was a regular fixture out at The Ark. Some mornings Mitchell woke to find Clancy up a ladder repairing something. Other days he came home from work to find Clancy and Ian had ticked off another item on Mitchell’s long list of jobs. With the amount of work the men were doing, it wouldn’t be long before renovations were done. In return, Mitchell offered meals—prepared by Beth—and companionship.
He put the phone back to his ear. ‘Hope, can you let Clance know I’m on my way?’
‘Will do. And Mitch? Thank you.’
‘Don’t mention it.’
Heart racing, Mitchell grabbed his puffer jacket off the back of his chair and pulled on a beanie. He shoved a pair of gloves in the pocket of his jacket and left the clinic on foot, Indy in tow. It was quicker to walk down the street to the Esplanade than get in his car and drive. Head down against the icy gale, he set a brisk pace while reminding himself Hope’s request for help wasn’t personal. She’d merely been passing on a message from Clancy. Yet despite trying to rationalise the reason for her call, a hum of happiness buzzed inside him and the smile on his face refused to budge. He hadn’t missed the warmth in her voice when he’d said he was coming.
Indy trotted happily at his side, oblivious to the reason for the determination in his stride.
Reaching the final building on the main street, he turned right onto the Esplanade. The two-lane road was wide, with additional space for angled parking along the shop fronts on one side. On the other side of the road was a large grassed area that led towards the beach. The wind had picked up and the dark clouds threatened rain. He and Indy kept to the footpath and followed it towards the group near the bridge. They weren’t hard to miss.
At least a dozen people, many carrying homemade placards, surrounded two black horses and a white antique carriage. He couldn’t see Hope in the crowd, but he didn’t have time to look for her.
‘I do care for my animals,’ Clancy shouted. He waved his tattered Akubra in the air and tried to steer his horses clear of the fray. ‘Walk up, walk up. Come on girls.’ He flicked the reins across their backs and urged them forwards.
Even above the protestor’s voices, Mitchell heard the clip clop of shod hooves as they clattered on the bitumen and the tinkle of the bridles and harnesses as the horses flicked their heads up and down, clearly irritated by the noise around them.
Mitchell’s heart sped. The last thing these horses needed was to be spooked. If they took off, Mitchell wasn’t convinced Clancy would have the strength to hold them back. At least the police were here, although they weren’t doing anything now except observing.
Clancy somehow steered the horses around the protestors and a parked car, and he headed for the heritage-listed stone water trough on the corner of the Esplanade and the main street. The horses lowered their muzzles to drink, but Mitchell could see by the flick of their ears they were wary of the fuss following them.
He approached the policewoman who seemed to be in charge and held out his hand, recognising her from the supermarket. ‘Mitchell Davis. Local vet.’
She smiled grimly. ‘Aimee Wong. Thanks for coming. Clancy said he’d asked someone to call you. You’d know what to do.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘What do you need?’
‘I need someone who knows animals to speak reason to these people. They’re not listening to me.’
Mitchell glanced at her. Aimee looked like she was barely old enough to be in uniform; even soaking wet she’d weigh less than his mountain dog. Perhaps that’s why she was having trouble gaining the respect of the protestors.
A woman pushed through the crowd, headed their way.
‘And this is Leigh Dickson,’ Aimee said with a roll of her eyes so quick Mitchell almost missed it. ‘She’s in charge of the protestors.’
Leigh shoved her sign in Mitchell’s face and stuck out her ample chest.
‘G’day,’ Mitchell said. ‘I’m Mitch Davis. I’m a local vet. What seems to be the issue?’
‘I am outraged this man can do what he does,’ Leigh said, pointing at Clancy. ‘I’m here on behalf of the horses because they can’t speak for themselves.’ She pulled out a sheaf of papers from the pocket of her jacket and thrust them at Mitchell. ‘There’s social media outrage over what happens to these horses,’ she said, voice rising. ‘I have a petition with over five thousand signatures from locals calling for an end to horse-drawn carriages in Macarthur Point.’
A cheer and clapping erupted from the crowd.
Mitchell frowned. There weren’t even five thousand permanent residents in Macarthur Point, so he had no idea who she’d coerced into signing her petition.
‘Where do you live, Ms. Dickson?’ he asked politely.
She hesitated for a second. ‘Melbourne.’
‘Have you ever lived on a farm, Ms. Dickson? Grown up around animals? Owned horses?’
This time her hesitation lasted a fraction longer. ‘I have some experience with horses. But that’s not the point,’ she rushed on. ‘I have compassion for animals. All animals. I’m passionate about seeing them free from harm.’
‘Harm?’ Mitchell glanced at the horses. Their coats gleamed more than the metalwork on the carriage. They didn’t look like they were being harmed.
‘Horses should not be used as commodities,’ Leigh said.
Mitchell tried to interject but she spoke over him.
‘These horses are being mistreated. It’s cruel for two horses to work around the clock like they do.’
‘That’s bull,’ Clancy called out. ‘Do you know I have six horses? I use one pair one day and rest them for two days while I drive the other pairs. I rotate them. You’re too blind to tell the difference.’
Leigh ignored Clancy and drilled her eyes into Mitchell. ‘They are on hard surfaces twelve hours at a time and that must be jarring their bodies.’ She snatched the papers from Mitchell’s hand and rifled through until she found a series of photos enlarged to A4 size. ‘See these? These horses bolted and fell into a pile of rubbish bins.’ She flicked to the next page. ‘These ones stumbled, and one fell, pulling the carriage on top of it.’ Another page. ‘And this one collided with a tram.’ She thrust the papers at his chest again. ‘They need to be banned!’
‘Hear, hear,’ shouted a man Mitchell had never seen in town before. No doubt he’d been roped in as part of Leigh’s rent-a-crowd.
Mitchell took the photos from Leigh and waved them in the air. ‘Did any of these incidents involve Clancy or his horses?’ he asked, raising his voice to be heard.
‘They did not,’ Clancy stated firmly. ‘And, are you aware, that as well as resting my horses, I won’t take them out in temperatures greater than thirty-five degrees? Are you also aware that my horses only work for six hours, with an hour break in the middle of the day?’
‘That’s not the point,’ someone shouted out. ‘They’re an eyesore. We’re trying to be a progressive town and when tourists come to visit and see this, they think they’ve stepped into the gold rush era. We’re not Ballarat or Bendigo.’
‘And they crap everywhere,’ another voice said.
Mitchell looked at Aimee and shrugged. There was nothing he could do. Leigh and her cronies weren’t going to listen to common sense. He was debating how to handle this when he sensed Hope’s presence. He looked up and saw her on the edge of the crowd. The wind blew her long blonde hair across her face and pinked her cheeks.
When their eyes locked, she waved, smiled and gave him a thumbs up. It was all the bolstering he needed. He straightened and turned back to the crowd, glad he had a friend of his own on his side. Between himself and Hope, they weren’t going to get away with this type of intimidation.
‘Let me put all of you straight,’ he said, raising his voice. ‘These horses are bred to do what they do. They’re called Percherons and they’re known as the gentle giants of the horse world. As for the impact on bitumen surfaces? These horses are never lame because they are incredibly strong and robust, and, as I said, bred to work. What you need to understand, Ms. Dickson, is that horses like these need to work. They thrive on it.’
Leigh opened her mouth to speak but Mitchell held his ground and spoke over her. ‘Trust me, the last thing Clancy would do is drive a horse that isn’t one hundred per cent fit because it would be immediately visible to the public.’
‘Too bloody right,’ Clancy said.
‘Clancy looks after his horses exceptionally well. He loves them, and he loves doing this work, and I see no reason why he shouldn’t continue doing what he’s doing.’ Mitchell faced Leigh. ‘Have you seen the reports from the RSPCA?’
She shook her head.
‘Animal inspectors have not been called out to investigate reports of harm to the Macarthur Point carriage horses and there have been no prosecutions on the grounds of cruelty to animals. Ever. The RSPCA does not oppose the use of horses for sport, work or entertainment, as long as the welfare of the animal is paramount.’
‘Which is my point,’ Leigh said with a huff. ‘The welfare of the animal is the most important thing. And they can’t possibly be happy.’
Mitchell pointed to the horses. ‘Take a good look at them. You don’t need to know a thing about horses to see how well they’re cared for and how happy they are.’
The horses stood quietly, their molasses brown eyes inscrutable to the furore over their fate.
‘You clearly don’t know anything about horses, Miss,’ Clancy said. ‘If they don’t want to do something, they won’t do it.’
‘Do you want to know what annoys me?’ Hope called out loudly.
The crowd parted like the Red Sea to let her through. Eyes flashing, she plucked a curl from her eyes and peeled back another stray tendril from her lips. When she glanced over at him, Mitchell gave her an encouraging smile.
Facing Leigh, she stood as tall as she could. ‘I get that you’re an activist, but what annoys me is that instead of agonising over carriage horses or the conditions of the sheep being shipped off for slaughter or saving the whales or whatever other thing you’re currently opposing, you ignore the suffering and pain of people in our own community who need us to help them. There are little kids like Zoe Cuthbertson dying of brain cancer and you’re more concerned about keeping horses off the streets.’
If it hadn’t been so windy, a pin could have been heard dropping on road.
Hope’s hands went to her hips. ‘Instead of stopping a good man from earning a living, how about you put your effort and energy into making this world a better place for people like Zoe’
No one spoke or moved.
Hope stood her ground, eyes flashing, as if willing the crowd to disperse. It didn’t take long, less than a few minutes, and she didn’t have to utter another word. Mitchell smiled again. He’d forgotten how feisty she could be.
Hope gave Clancy a quick hug before helping him climb back up onto the carriage. He clicked his tongue at the horses and left.
Soon Mitchell and Hope were the only two people on the Esplanade. Mitchell half expected Hope to make an excuse and leave too, but she didn’t.
‘You were amazing,’ Mitchell said finally.
Hope shrugged. ‘They needed to hear that. It’ll come back to bite us if something happens to one of those horses.’
‘It won’t.’
Hope bent down to rub Indy’s ears. ‘How have you been anyway?’ she asked.
‘Good. Busy. You?’
She kept patting Indy. ‘Good.’
‘Sorry about acting so weird the night of the storm. I probably should have called to say thanks for dropping me home.’
‘No big deal. You okay now?’
She nodded.
The silence between them was thick and awkward and he hated that it was his fault. She started walking across the grass towards the beach and he followed her. When she stopped on top of the sand dune, he stopped and cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry about how I handled things the other day when you dropped me home.’
Her eyes found a spot over his shoulder and she stared at that rather than at him. ‘It’s fine, Mitch. I just wish I’d known you had a girlfriend and I wouldn’t have thrown myself at you.’ She gave him a tight smile. ‘But like you said, that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.’
‘Anna and I broke up,’ he blurted out.
Her head shot up to look at him, eyebrows raised in question.
‘It wasn’t going to work. I didn’t love her the way I loved you.’
A tiny smile tugged at one corner of Hope’s mouth and she pushed back a stubborn tendril of hair behind her ear. ‘Sorry to hear that.’
She didn’t look or sound sorry and Mitchell worked hard to keep a straight face.
Thick silence fell between them again and even the waves crashing on the shore sounded muffled. He wasn’t sure whether to be the first to break it. He glanced at Hope, but she was staring out across the water and he couldn’t make out the expression on her face.
‘Looks like you’ve been out running.’
The words came without thought and he mentally kicked himself for being so stupid. Hope couldn’t run anymore.
‘Sorry, Hope. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable about running. I remember how much you used to love to run and now I guess. . .’ He didn’t know how to finish his sentence.
For a split second her gaze hardened, and her expression grew suddenly fierce. He wished he hadn’t opened his mouth except to apologise which is all he seemed to be doing around her.
‘I can still run, you know.’
Before he had a chance to say anything, she took off down the sand dune towards the water.
Whistling for Indy, he followed, chasing her across the loose sand towards the hard-packed sand closer to the water’s edge.
She wasn’t wrong. She could still run. And he was out of breath by the time he caught her.
She chuckled and slowed to a walk. ‘Told you.’
‘Cheat. You had a head start,’ he replied as his heart thudded against his ribcage. If his breathing was any indication, he needed to work on his running, or he’d never be able to do the fun run in November.
They walked along the beach at the water’s edge, jumping away each time the waves threatened to get them wet.
‘Do you mind people asking about it?’ he asked.
‘It?’
‘Your leg.’
‘Doesn’t bother me.’ She glanced at him. ‘But does it bother you?’
Did it? ‘No.’
‘I prefer not to have it brought into every conversation,’ she said, ‘but if you want to ask questions, now’s the time.’
He had a hundred questions, but none of them were about her leg, so kept his mouth shut. Instead, he started talking about himself.
They walked and talked for over an hour. He told her all about his job and the clinic, the houses he’d flipped over the years, the renovations he still had to finish on his house, about meeting Clancy and about his dogs and animals.
Everything and anything except the way his heart was hammering every time he looked at her. Everything except how much he wanted to find
out if she still had feelings for him. Was it just him who felt the sexual tension whizzing between them?
When they got to the end of the beach where the rocks made it impassable unless the tide was out, they turned and headed back the way they’d come.
‘Memories are strange things, aren’t they?’ Hope said after a while.
He glanced over at her, but her face gave nothing away. ‘I suppose so.’
‘You can’t touch them or hold them in your hands, yet it’s like they have an incredible power over you if you let them.’
‘Yeah, I guess they do.’
He wasn’t sure where she was going with this.
‘I remember everything about that night, Mitch.’
He swallowed. He didn’t need to ask which night she was referring to. It had been the best night of his life.
She stopped walking, turned to face him, and exhaled in a rush. ‘I’m going to put my heart on the line here, Mitch. When I came back to Macarthur Point it was to help Margot and Courtney, to take a break from my job, and to catch my breath. I was in a toxic relationship that I didn’t realise I was in until it was almost too late. To be honest, you weren’t on my radar. I didn’t even know you were living in Macarthur Point until I got here. Then I saw you that day delivering the calf.’ She blew out a long, slow breath. ‘Wow. I had no idea I still had feelings for you. But here’s the thing, Mitch; I don’t know if I can let myself fall for you again.’ She reached for his hands. ‘I can’t deny how I still feel about you. I care about you, think about you. Want to get to know you again as more than friends.’
He sensed a “but” and waited for it.
‘When you made love to me, then walked out of my life like I’d never existed, I thought my world had ended and I’m not sure I’m ready to put myself in that position again. Do you have any idea how you made me feel when you never called?’
Her words were like arrows, straight through his heart, each one true. He dipped his head and studied his feet. She was right. He’d hurt her deeply. At least now he had his chance to apologise.
Squeezing her hands, he looked her straight in the eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, Hope. Sorry for hurting you. If I could turn back time, I’d . . .’
Holding onto Hope Page 14