He leaned back in his chair, splicing his huge hands together, his smile fading. ‘I need to talk to you both about something.’
Kenny shot me a panicked look, but I pretended not to notice.
‘It’s nearly the end of the year and Christmas is just around the corner. We need to organize things.’
Kenny slumped back in his chair with a great whoosh of relief. ‘Is that all?’
Laddie leaned forward. ‘Was there something else, Kenny?’
‘No! Nothing.’
‘Um,’ I piped up. Kenny nearly jumped out of his seat. ‘About Christmas …’ I started.
‘Yes, Jack,’ said Laddie. ‘Baldy is head lad and will be having two days off. Both of you will be needed at the stables.’
‘Oh,’ I began, then stopped. I hadn’t given it much thought: it never occurred to me that I wouldn’t be home for Christmas. But he was right. Who’d look after the stables?
‘Mrs O’Brien can organize any gifts you wish to send home,’ said Laddie. It slowly sank in as he shuffled his papers around his desk, tidying them into a pile. ‘There is one other thing I wish to discuss.’
Kenny stiffened, his gaze darting from me to Laddie.
‘We have to work as a team; in my stables and away at any future race meetings,’ said Laddie. ‘If there is any ill-feeling between my lads, it shows in my horses. And I will not tolerate that. There are other lads wanting apprenticeships.’ He looked from Kenny to me. ‘Is there anything you need to say to me?’
Kenny shook his head and turned to me, his wide eyes pleading.
‘No, Laddie,’ I mumbled.
After Laddie gave us more details about Christmas, we headed back to the stables.
‘Thanks, Jack,’ Kenny mumbled.
I stared at him. This was a Kenny I’d never seen. My mentioning the accident had really thrown him. Still, I didn’t trust him. ‘Just remember our deal. You shook on it,’ I reminded him. With a nod, he strode off.
As each day passed without any further sign of trouble, I began to relax again into the stable routine and the long summer days.
Apart from the money I spent at the billiard saloon with Billy and on the odd treat, I saved most of my wages. I began planning my gifts to send home, but Mum beat me to it. After dinner one night, Mrs O’Brien fetched me two parcels.
‘These came today. Christmas presents from home, maybe?’
‘It’s OK, Kenny,’ said Mrs O’Brien when his face fell. ‘I’m sure there’ll be parcels along soon for you.’
He scraped his chair back from the table. ‘Don’t bet on it.’ He stormed out, banging the back door behind him.
Chapter 16
I recognized Mrs Davis’s writing on the parcels. She’d crossed out her address and written Laddie’s above it. Had she wondered why they came to her? And how did she know where I was? Alone in my room, I slipped the string and brown paper off one package, and found a note.
Dear Jack,
I hope this letter finds you happy and well. These letters and parcels came for you, so I have forwarded them on. Sorry I didn’t send the letters sooner, but I wasn’t sure of your new address. It’s been very quiet since you left. We miss your company of an afternoon. Mr MacKenzie has been keeping to himselfand his horses, leaving Marmite and I to spend many an afternoon in the front parlour.
Have a lovely Christmas, Jack.
Kind regards,
Mrs Davis
Staring into space, I imagined her and Marmite sitting alone amongst all those photographs. I wasn’t going home for Christmas, but maybe her son would make it back to her.
Four more letters fell out of the second package. One from Annie and three from Mum. Guilt washed over me and I put Mum’s aside, delaying all the questions they would hold. I opened Annie’s letter.
Dear Wee Jack,
I hope you are well. I am fine. I miss you and so does Mum. You weren’t here for my birthday which made me sad, and I had to send this letter because Uncle Onslow told us you were very busy and might have to stay and look after the horses at Christmas time. How are Dazzle and Captain? I hope you like my present. I made it myself. Dixie is my best friend again. Do you remember her? Robert is captain of the cricket team and likes Dixie’s cousin Mavis. I think she’s awful with sticky-out teeth. Please don’t tell. I miss you.
Annie
Wee Jack. I hadn’t heard that name for so long. A name I couldn’t wait to leave behind. But it stirred up so many memories. The farm, Dad, Robert, Grandfather. But surely things would be different now? Since I was a working man myself?
I sorted through Mum’s letters and began with the oldest. She talked about the farm and how busy Dad was. Robert was working hard, and Annie was growing up fast. Grandfather was well, too. Uncle Onslow had told them I was fine and enjoying my work, but very busy working long hours. He’d said I’d write again as soon as I could.
The other letters were much the same. In her final letter she wished me a lovely Christmas and all that, and forbade me to open my presents until Christmas morning. I grinned. I didn’t know whether I could keep to that.
Right, I decided then and there: when I sent their presents, I’d send a letter telling them my new address.
But when I finally wrote, I left my address off the back. Dad would want to know why I didn’t tell them the truth for all those months. Like Grandfather, Dad was very strong on honesty. Even though I was doing better, they’d be cross that I’d lied.
Everything was fine now, and why spoil things at Christmas? I’ll write again soon, I thought. That’s when I’d tell them I’d moved.
The first Christmas I ever spent away from my family was not so bad. Mrs O’Brien and Isobel made decorations for the table and put up a real tree in the dining room, covering it with silver and gold balls.
Before Mrs O’Brien went home to her own family, she cooked us a huge meal of roast turkey and vegetables swimming in thick, brown gravy, with trifle for pudding.
Laddie gave us all a new shirt and trousers, and Kenny got an extra present. I think it was because Laddie knew he’d received nothing from his own family. Even though it was stifling in the dining room, Kenny wore his new jacket all day. I heard him thank Laddie three times.
Before long we were back to the normal routine. While Baldy was away, it made me think about Mrs Davis and William. He’d left home so young, yet Baldy, a grown man, was still living with his mother.
I shrugged and carried on mucking out, whistling as I worked. I couldn’t imagine going back to live at home now that I’d been away so long. Not that I’d need to. Things couldn’t have been better.
As it turned out, I couldn’t have been more wrong.
That night, as I undressed for bed, I shivered against the unusual chill in my room. It had been stifling for weeks and had been too hot for my pyjamas. As I searched for them through my dresser, I thought of Isobel and smiled. She’d worn a new blue dress to tea, and Mrs O’Brien had secretly hinted that it was for me. Kenny hadn’t even noticed.
Still smiling, I finally found my pyjamas screwed up under my bed. I gave them a shake and pulled them on. As I buttoned up the top, I frowned. Strange — the sleeves had shrunk.
I looked down. So had the pants. Puzzled, I stared at my feet. Two toes on my right foot were red. I’d ignored my rubbing boot, thinking it was just the heat. ‘It … it can’t be.’
I yanked on my sleeves, trying to pull them down. ‘No!’ Again I tried stretching the material, hoping I was wrong. I sank down on my bed, realizing it couldn’t be anything else. Why now? After years of wanting it more than anything, then after all the training and hard slog — when it was the last thing in the world I wanted — I’d finally begun to grow.
Laddie’s words on my first day came back to me. ‘I like my jockeys as small as possible. Got to have an edge to win races, son.’
I felt sick, gazing around the room. Would I have to leave it all? Copper, Satin and … Isobel. I stared at the wall, imagining
going home and facing my family after all.
Kenny. Screwing my blanket around in my fist, I could almost hear him laughing already. He’d think it was marvellous. Gritting my teeth, I punched my pillow. He couldn’t find out. No one could find out.
The next morning I dragged myself out of bed and trudged across to the stables. My eyes were gritty from staring into the darkness all night, going over and over everything in my head. The only snatches of sleep I’d got were plagued by people’s faces. Isobel, sad. Kenny, laughing. Baldy and Laddie shaking their heads.
My boots felt full of concrete and my insides weren’t much better. How long would it be before someone noticed? I’d heard Mum talk about growth spurts. Robert used to laugh and tell me he’d pinched mine in my sleep.
‘Don’t worry, son,’ Mum always said. ‘You’ll grow.’
And it was finally happening. A flicker of hope danced across my mind. Maybe I’d stopped already? Maybe that was it? My hopes slumped again as I remembered the rest of Mum’s little chats. ‘Remember your poppa, Jack? He was little too, then all of a sudden he shot up.’
I kicked the bale of straw outside Copper’s stall. So why had Uncle Onslow bothered with me at all? And Grandfather had helped, too. Was it all for nothing?
‘Jack!’ Baldy poked his head around the door of the feed room. ‘Wakey, wakey. Don’t just stand there. There’s work to do.’
Luckily no one noticed I ate less at breakfast and had only half-helpings at dinnertime. I figured if I ate less, it might slow things down a bit. Even when Billy shouted me a meat pie after a billiard game, I turned it down. He gave me a strange look and offered it to Old Frank. Billy was a good mate, but I couldn’t tell him, either.
By the end of the week I was starving every night at bedtime, but I was determined to stay at Laddie’s.
After dinner on Saturday, Kenny and I rode down to the billiard saloon. Billy wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and somehow I felt relieved. Frank sat in his dim corner as usual, the glow of his cigarette bright in the gloom.
When Kenny joined in a game with some of his mates, I brushed off their invitation to play. I had too much to think about. I was sure my secret was safe, but still … I yawned. Sleeping had been almost impossible, and, when I finally dropped off each night, nightmares usually woke me again.
Frank nodded as I approached. I leaned against the wall next to him.
‘Good Christmas, lad?’
‘Pretty good.’
‘Back to work?’
‘Yep.’ For a while we watched the room in silence.
‘Something troubling you, lad?’
He caught me off-guard. ‘Um, no, well …’
‘I’ve known you long enough to know something’s up,’ he mumbled. ‘You’re usually full of beans, yabbering about Copper or Satin, or the track. What’s wrong?’ He stared up at me.
I turned away, taking a sudden interest in Kenny’s game. ‘Nothing.’
‘Please yourself,’ Frank grumbled, as I strolled over to Kenny’s table.
Soon it was time to leave, and I glanced over in Frank’s direction. For the first time, his stool was empty. With a shrug I followed Kenny to the curtain. He slipped out, leaving me alone for a moment.
I gasped when a strong grip fell on my shoulder. Behind me, Frank leaned heavily on a walking stick. ‘I’ve seen it happen before, lad.’
‘Eh?’
‘Many an apprentice before you has done some growing.’ He nodded gravely. My jaw dropped open. ‘How—’
‘Folk around you all the time don’t notice.’ Frank tapped his temple. ‘But Old Frank sees everything.’
Heck! If Frank knew, how long would it be before the others noticed?
‘Gin, lad.’
‘Eh?’ I said again, not sure what he was on about. ‘A bit of regular gin will slow up the growing, Jack. Something my old trainer told me years back. I swear by it.’
Suddenly Kenny stuck his head through the curtain, and was startled at seeing Frank standing there. ‘You coming or what?’
With one last glance at Frank, I followed Kenny out of the shop and home to Laddie’s.
Frank’s advice swam around in my head for the next few days. Laddie had us busy with extra work around the stables, and we hadn’t had the chance to get back to the saloon.
Gin? I couldn’t drink gin. Anyway, where would I get it? I’d never get into the Waverly Hotel where the local trainers and jockeys drank. No, Frank’s idea was madness. I’d just keep watching how much I ate.
Something Mrs O’Brien said the next week made me think again. We all sat at dinner while she served up sausages, eggs and fried bread. My mouth watered at the smells. It was torture taking just one sausage from the centre plate. I bit into it, savouring the taste.
‘Only one, Jack?’ said Mrs O’Brien. ‘Here.’ She slid two more onto my plate along with a slice of fried bread. ‘A growing boy like you needs more than one.’
Nearly choking on my sausage, my appetite vanished. Looking Laddie in the eye for the rest of the meal was near-impossible as I pushed the bits of sausage and bread around my plate.
‘Not feeling well, Jack?’ he asked.
I shook my head, staring at my plate.
‘Maybe a lie-down is in order?’ fussed Mrs O’Brien.
‘Yes.’ I slid my chair back from the table. ‘I’ll see you later,’ I muttered, dashing from the room.
I sprinted across the yard to my room, slamming the door shut behind me. Mrs O’Brien must know! And now Laddie and the others would, too.
Frank’s voice crept into my head. ‘Gin, lad … I swear by it.’ I knew that somewhere, somehow, I had to get some gin — and soon.
I avoided talking to anyone that afternoon, and, aside from the odd crack from Kenny, they let me be. Mrs O’Brien accepted my excuse from tea and sent over two slices of toast and a cup of baking soda and boiled water to settle my stomach.
I gobbled down the toast and tipped the contents of the cup down the bathroom sink.
Again I drifted off into a broken sleep, this time wondering how to get hold of Frank’s remedy. During the night I woke in a sweat. Laddie’s office! There were three decanters on a tray, next to the bronze horse. Would one of them hold gin? It meant sneaking in somehow, and getting past Mrs O’Brien. But what if I was caught? It was my only chance. I had to find a way.
Chapter 17
Bang! Bang! Bang! ‘Come on, sleepyhead!’ Kenny yelled through the door.
‘Coming,’ I groaned. Was it morning already?
Baldy gave me a funny look when I finally made it to the stables. ‘Feeling better, Jack?’
‘Fine, thanks,’ I lied, heading for the tack room.
Laddie met us at the track, and when he asked me the same question a bolt of guilt shot through me at his worried look. Could I really do what I planned?
A few laps around the track on Copper reminded me of what I’d lose. The thrill of galloping along the home stretch — imagining I was in my first race, blood pumping in my chest as I pounded around the corners alongside other riders. I couldn’t leave now; I was too close to the real thing. I had to get that gin.
My chance came sooner than expected. Later that day I headed inside for dinner, and overheard Laddie: ‘I have some business in town this afternoon. I should be back in time for tea.’
‘That’ll be fine,’ said Mrs O’Brien. ‘There’ll be something put aside if you’re not.’
Standing in the doorway, I wondered if I had the courage to do it so soon. All through dinner, try as I might, I couldn’t help flicking a look towards the hall, which led to Laddie’s office. While the others chatted away — and I joined in trying to act normally — my thoughts were on the crystal decanters on that silver tray.
Later on, when Baldy went home and Kenny left for the saloon, I hung around the rear of the house. I returned Laddie’s wave as he drove off, swallowing hard at the sour taste rising in my throat.
Somehow I had to get past Mrs O�
�Brien, through the dining room, and down the hall to Laddie’s office. With one last look around, I ambled over to the back door and slipped inside. Quickly pulling off my boots, I hid them behind a sack of potatoes in the storage porch.
The sound of clattering dishes came from the kitchen over Mrs O’Brien’s singing. I peeped around the doorway and saw her standing at the bench, her back to me.
She fell silent for a moment. I held my breath. Then she launched into a new song, even louder than before. Any other time I’d have burst out laughing.
I crept across the kitchen and into the dining room. Turning the handle on the hall door, I slipped through and closed it again behind me. The long rug that ran up the centre of the hall muffled my footsteps.
There were four doors. Which one? I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to remember, then tiptoed to the end of the hall. Even though I’d seen Laddie leave, I pressed my ear to the door. Silence.
Slowly I turned the handle. Once inside I gently pushed it closed with a loud CLICK! My heart thumping, I wiped my palms down my trousers.
Laddie’s desk looked even bigger than the time before. The giant leather chairs crouched as if ready to leap out and grab me. I edged past them, scanning the room. Again the bronze horse caught my eye — but the decanters were gone! I searched the office, holding my breath. Had Laddie guessed?
There! I spotted them on a drinks cabinet on the other side of the room and scooted over, peering through the thick crystal. Which one was gin? I lifted each lid and took a sniff. Jerking back at the strong smells, I screwed up my nose.
Was it the golden liquid or one of the clear ones? Dad liked a beer, but I’d never seen him drink spirits. Which was which?
I was pretty sure gin was clear. I’d seen Uncle Onslow spill his hip flask once, and Mum had said he liked his gin. When I picked up the decanter, it was heavier than it looked. I could tell it was expensive and knew I couldn’t take it.
Just Jack Page 9