by Penny Tangey
Mum is running late because Rhys threw up his breakfast. Mum’s friend, Brenda, comes over to look after Rhys while we are out.
I stand in the lounge room door waiting for Mum to be ready, trying not to look impatient because that makes her really mad.
Rhys is lying on the couch and Mum is patting his head like he’s Angel or something. Rhys says, ‘You can go.’
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ says Mum.
‘I’m fine. I’ll go to sleep.’
Rhys is very brave about throwing up now because he does it all the time.
‘Are you sure you’ll be okay with him?’ says Mum to Brenda. ‘The instructions and numbers are on the fridge, remember.’
Brenda says, ‘It’s okay, Miranda – I’ve played this game before, you know. I’ll call you if anything happens. You two go and have fun.’
They talk on and on like this until we finally go out to the car.
The trip to the hospital takes forever. If we don’t get there by ten o’clock Lara will think I’m immature and can’t be on time for appointments and will leave without me.
When we pull up at the McDonald’s entrance the car clock says nine fifty-seven.
‘Maybe I should come in?’ says Mum.
I quickly open the car door. ‘No, I’m fine,’ I say. I jump out and slam the door.
Mum winds down the window and shouts, ‘Bye, Stevie! I’ll be back at three!’
I walk towards the McDonald’s entrance. I turn around and see our car driving away. I wait until I can’t see our car anymore, then I run towards the hospital and up the steps. Inside the hospital I stop running because that is the rule. I walk as fast as I can to the lifts. The lift doors are just closing but I stick out my arm and they open again. The lift is very full but I don’t have time to worry about that. I just squash in. At least I don’t have a big box of fruit.
When I get to Lara’s room, she is still there, sitting on her bed.
‘You made it!’ she says.
‘Sorry I’m late – Rhys kept spewing this morning,’ I say.
‘What’s that?’ asks Lara. She’s pointing at the present I’m holding. Mum gave it to me to give to Morgan. It’s stickers and a box for putting jewellery in.
‘It’s nothing.’ I say. I put the present on Lara’s chest of drawers beside her bed.
‘We don’t have much time,’ Lara says. ‘See that wheelchair behind the door? Bring it over.’
‘Why?’ I say, pushing the wheelchair towards Lara.
Lara stands up. Her legs are shaking. She manages to grab onto the arms of the wheelchair and swivel around to sit.
‘Okay, let’s go,’ she says.
I walk towards the door.
‘Hey, Stevie?’ says Lara. ‘I need you to push me.’
At the lifts she is impatient. She mutters, ‘Come on, come on.’
I am sorry I have made us late.
The lifts ding and the doors open.
A nurse steps out. It’s Cecilia, who used to look after Rhys. ‘Where are you two off to?’ she says.
‘Just going out for some fresh air,’ says Lara.
‘Enjoy it while you can,’ says Cecilia.
I push Lara into the lift but Cecilia is still talking, ‘The radar’s showing rain for later. There’s a big swirly cloud coming up from Tas—’ The lift doors shut.
‘I feel a bit guilty lying to Cecilia,’ says Lara. ‘She’s one of the good ones.’
When we get outside Lara points at a taxi van and says, ‘That must be for us’. The driver winds down the window and says, ‘Taxi for Lara?’
I have never been in a taxi before, let alone in a taxi van.
The driver opens the back door and puts down a ramp. Then he pushes Lara up the ramp and helps put her seatbelt on. There’s a seat next to Lara for me.
‘Where are you headed to, love?’ the taxi driver asks Lara.
‘Killara Road, Coldstream.’
Coldstream is often on the news because it has the coldest temperatures, but I’ve never been there.
Lara and I don’t talk much in the taxi. I can’t believe I am finally going to a horse farm and Lara will finally see Finnigan again.
It takes us a long time to drive through the city. The taxi driver drives like Dad Tony. He keeps getting impatient, honking other drivers and braking really quickly. Finally, we get onto the freeway and the driving gets smoother. I can’t believe how far we are going. The meter says the trip has already cost more than forty dollars.
Lara gives the taxi driver instructions about when to get off the freeway. I’m glad she knows where we’re going because I have no idea.
We drive along a road with lots of shops, houses and car sale yards, but no sign of a horse farm. Then finally, there are no more houses and I start to see paddocks. The meter is up to seventy dollars. I hope Lara has that much money because I certainly don’t. Mum gave me ten dollars for lunch.
‘Do you have enough money?’ I ask Lara.
‘Sure,’ she says.
Lara tells the driver to turn left. There are white fences along this road, a promising sign. Horses in books always live in paddocks with white fences. And there really are horses in the paddocks. Big, proper horses, not ponies like Star and Cinnamon. It’s like a dream come true.
‘It’s left at the next gate,’ says Lara.
The taxi slows down and we drive through a red-brick gateway with metal horses on top of each post. At the end of the driveway I can see a big red-brick two-storey house with white columns. It is the fanciest house I have ever seen. In fact, I would say it is a mansion. The hedges along each side of the driveway block the views of the paddocks, but every so often I get a glimpse of a horse on the other side.
A man comes out of the house and stands on the front steps looking towards us.
‘I hope he’s not angry,’ says Lara.
He has a red beard that covers most of his face so I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
We pull up in front of the house and the taxi driver comes around to the back and opens the door. He helps Lara out first and then I jump out.
‘How much?’ asks Lara.
‘Ninety-seven fifty please.’
Lara hands over some notes, and says, ‘Keep the change.’
‘Have a great day, beautiful,’ says the taxi driver.
He gets back into the taxi and shuts the door. Lara says, ‘Sexist pig.’
The man on the veranda is still looking at us.
‘Hello,’ says Lara.
‘Hello,’ the man says. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I’ve come to see Finnigan.’
‘Shouldn’t you be in hospital?’ the man asks.
‘I’m still in hospital – I’m just having an afternoon out.’
‘Does your mother know you’re here?’
‘What do you reckon?’
‘I should call her.’
‘Go ahead, ruin my short life.’
The man sighs and says, ‘Alright then, you’d better come inside.’
I follow him, pushing the wheelchair towards the house. I stop at the steps. The man is already opening the front door.
‘Dad?’ says Lara.
‘What?’
‘We need some help here.’
He looks confused for a moment then realises what the problem is.
‘Oh, righto,’ he says. He comes over to Lara. ‘Do you mind?’ he says.
Lara shakes her head. Then he picks up Lara in the wheelchair and carries her up the stairs. He is very strong.
‘Do you girls want something to eat?’ he asks.
I look at my watch; it is already ten to twelve. We have to get back to the hospital by three o’ clock or Mum will find out everything.
‘Yes please,’
says Lara. ‘Stevie must be starving. By the way, Dad, this is Stevie; Stevie, this is my dad.’
‘My name’s Tim actually,’ the man says. ‘Nice to meet you, Stevie.’ He puts out his hand and I shake it, like people do on television.
Lara’s dad Tim wheels Lara into the kitchen. There are piles of dishes everywhere and I notice a pair of boots on the bench. No way would we be allowed to have shoes on the bench at our house. I don’t know how he can cook in this kitchen; there is no space for a chopping board or anything.
We sit at the table, which is also covered in stuff. There is a drill in front of me and a catalogue from Horseland, which is a horse equipment shop.
‘I don’t have much to eat,’ says Lara’s dad Tim. He throws a packet of Tim Tams on the table. ‘Would you like these?’
‘Yes!’ I say.
‘I’m not hungry,’ says Lara. ‘But you go ahead, Stevie.’
I take a Tim Tam. I haven’t had a Tim Tam for ages. Maybe not since Aunty Janet’s birthday. I take a bite and they are just as good as I remember.
I look at the Horseland catalogue. There are horse rugs on the front and they all cost more than two hundred dollars. That seems like a lot to pay for a piece of material. But it turns out that when you buy a horse rug you also get a dog rug for free, which makes it a bargain. Angel has never had a rug before.
I have finished my Tim Tam. I would like to have another one, but I don’t want to be greedy. The packet is so brown and shiny, my mouth is watering just looking at it.
Lara’s dad Tim says, ‘Have as many as you want’, and pushes the packet towards me.
I take another Tim Tam.
‘I’ll go and get Finnigan,’ says Lara’s dad Tim.
He walks out of the kitchen. His boots leave a fresh set of muddy marks on top of the old ones across the kitchen floor. I am glad I don’t have to clean up this house. It would be a full-time job. It looks fancy from the outside, but inside, it has problems.
‘How many Tim Tams is too many?’ I ask Lara.
‘More than seven,’ she says. ‘Seven is the perfect number but you should never eat more than seven Tim Tams in a twenty-four-hour period.’
I turn the page of the Horseland catalogue and get to the saddle section, which is even more interesting.
I take another Tim Tam.
I look at the saddles in the catalogue. They are beautiful but they are so expensive. Maybe I could just ride Atta Girl bareback. That would save a lot of money.
‘Sorry my dad’s so weird,’ says Lara.
‘He’s okay,’ I say. ‘He’s a bit messy, but so are lots of people.’
I turn the page. It has horse boots. I have never even heard of those. Some of them are really expensive, like a hundred and fifty dollars – heaps more than my own boots cost.
‘No, trust me, he’s a deeply weird man,’ says Lara. ‘I mean, don’t you wonder why he never visits me in hospital?’
‘Um, Lara, if you have a horse, do you have to buy boots for them?’
‘Not necessarily.’
That’s good.
‘I mean,’ says Lara, ‘if you had a kid in hospital, wouldn’t you want to visit them?’
There’s a pair of horse boots for only $32.99. That’s not so much. I already have nearly forty dollars in my favourite sock. But maybe that isn’t fair to Atta Girl. I know what it’s like to wear cheap boots. My boots from Kmart really hurt my feet when I first got them. I wanted Blundstones but Mum said in my dreams, because they were way too expensive.
‘Mum says Dad can’t cope with the fact that I’m going to die.’
The horse boots go blurry in the catalogue. I stand up. The catalogue slides off the table and onto the floor landing inside out.
‘What?’ I say.
‘I said, he can’t cope with me dying.’
‘What do you mean? You’re not going to die!’
‘Well, I’m not getting any better. I thought you knew that?’
I didn’t know that. I thought Lara was going to get better, like Rhys. But now she’s saying she’s going to die. Going to die. Lara said she was going to die. Everyone dies, but she means soon.
‘Are you okay, Stevie?’ says Lara. ‘You’re breathing kind of funny.’
She’s right, it’s like I’m near a cat but there are no cats here.
Lara’s dad Tim comes back in. ‘Finnigan’s ready and waiting.’
He wheels Lara out of the room. Some of the Horseland catalogue gets stuck in the wheelchair spokes. It goes round and round in the wheels until it comes untangled and is muddy and crumpled on the floor.
I follow them outside.
A big black horse is standing in front of the house. He is bigger than I expected. He could trample me easily.
Tim wheels Lara up to him. She reaches up and Finnigan puts his head down so she can pat him on the nose.
‘Hello, Finny,’ says Lara.
‘He remembers you,’ says her dad.
‘No he doesn’t,’ says Lara. ‘But I remember him. Stevie, come and say hello.’
I walk over. Finnigan is enormous. I put out my hand and Finnigan snorts. I take a step back. I don’t want to pat him in case he bites me.
‘He likes you,’ says Lara. ‘Dad, Stevie wants a horse.’
‘Have you ridden before?’ Lara’s dad Tim asks me.
‘No.’
‘I could give you a lesson on Buttercup.’
‘That’d be great!’ says Lara.
‘I don’t know how to ride,’ I say.
‘Don’t worry, Buttercup is a really quiet pony to start on. I’ll go get her.’
Tim ties Finnigan to a post next to Lara and walks away.
‘I don’t want to ride a pony,’ I say. But I’m not sure if Lara hears me.
I sit down on a rock on the edge of the garden.
‘Are you okay, Stevie?’ asks Lara.
‘I’m fine,’ I say, but I’m not, and I don’t know how Lara can act like everything is normal when she is going to die.
I hear the sound of footsteps and hooves and look up. Tim is standing beside a tan pony with a black mane. The pony is bigger than Star but not by very much.
‘This is Buttercup,’ he says. ‘Don’t be scared, she’s very quiet.’
Tim goes away again and comes back carrying an armful of stuff, including a saddle.
He shows me how to brush Buttercup with a currycomb and then a body brush. Tim cleans her hooves.
Then he shows me how to put the horse blanket on and the saddle. The saddle has a strap called the girth that goes under Buttercup’s tummy. Buttercup doesn’t like it, so she puffs out her tummy. Tim waits for her tummy to go down and then does up the girth. Next we put on the bridle. Buttercup looks completely different wearing her saddle and bridle. She looks bigger.
‘Okay,’ says Tim. ‘Are you ready?’
‘I guess so.’
Tim tells me to come up close to Buttercup on her left side. He holds the stirrup for me and I put my left foot in the stirrup and put my hand on the saddle. He tells me to hold on to Buttercup’s mane and says it won’t hurt her. To get on I have to bounce up and swing my right leg over.
Then I am sitting on Buttercup. I am riding a horse – or a pony at least.
I try to put my foot in the right stirrup too, but I can’t get it in. Tim walks around to the other side and holds the stirrup out for me to put my foot in.
Then he tells me I am sitting all wrong. I should keep my heels down and my thumbs on top of the reins, and I should sit up tall.
Tim stands in the middle of the driveway with Buttercup on a long rope. He says not to be scared because he can control how fast Buttercup goes. I have to give Buttercup a squeeze with my knees to get her started. I squeeze but nothing happens. Buttercup just stands there. I tr
y again and she starts walking in a big circle around Tim.
It is easy, but then Tim shouts at me, ‘Keep your heels down.’ I had forgotten about that bit. Then he yells, ‘Sit up straight!’ and then, ‘Thumbs!’ I look down and see that I am holding the reins wrong again.
We walk around in a circle with Tim shouting at me, and I start to get used to it.
Tim says, ‘Okay, Stevie, that’s looking better. Would you like to try a trot?’
‘I guess so.’
Tim makes Buttercup stop and explains what to do. It is very complicated. I have to look at Buttercup’s outside shoulder and when her shoulder is forward I should stand up out of the saddle a bit. When Buttercup’s shoulder is back I should be sitting down.
When Tim tells me, I squeeze Buttercup with my legs and she starts walking. Then Tim makes Buttercup go a bit faster. I hold on to the saddle. Tim shouts out at me, ‘Up! Down! Up! Down!’
I try to do what he says, but I’m all out of time. Maybe it is too much, too soon.
‘Look at the outside shoulder!’ he shouts.
I stare at Buttercup’s shoulder going forward and back, forward and back.
‘That’s it!’ shouts Tim. And I realise that I am going up and down, up and down in time with Buttercup.
‘Good stuff, Stevie!’ shouts Lara.
Buttercup’s hooves go thud, thud, thud, thud, thud. Lara is going to die. Lara is going to die. Lara is going to die.
‘Okay,’ says Tim. ‘That might be enough for today.’ Buttercup slows down and then stops.
Tim tells me how to get off, which is called dismounting. I take my right foot out of the stirrup and swing it over the saddle. Then I slide off down the left side.
Standing on the ground again, my legs are wobbly. Lara is smiling at me. ‘Wasn’t that great?’ she says. ‘You’re a natural!’
‘You remind me of Lara when she was your age,’ says her dad. ‘You look very relaxed.’
‘How old are you?’ I ask Lara.