‘Positive. He’s a dream next to cranky pants here,’ he said, slapping Paycheque’s damp neck affectionately.
‘Tell me about it,’ Claire groaned. ‘He tried to bite me as I was getting on.’
‘Didn’t get you, did he?’
‘Nope – I was ready for him. I don’t know what his problem is. He’s been here the longest and settled in the worst.’
‘Well these other guys have been stable mates at one time or another. Maybe he’s feeling left out.’
‘But he’s come home. Surely life’s good after what he’s been through.’
Jack shrugged. ‘He’ll be all right. Just give him time.’
Claire shrugged and tried to appear nonchalant as she led the horse into his stable yard. If this was how he was now, what would happen when they actually started putting him under pressure? She’d have to have him a bit better before that happened or else risk life and limb.
Claire shuddered with a mixture of dread and excitement. Other than the redundancy, the scariest thing she’d faced in her last few months at work was a paper cut – hardly life-threatening.
She stood with her arms folded across the top railing, enjoying the warm sun on her back as the three horses tucked into their breakfast. Howie’s ears still twitched, and he’d stop chewing at the slightest noise or movement, but at least he was eating in her presence. Only a week ago he would wait until completely alone before lowering his head into his feed drum. Claire had persisted with standing at a safe distance. With all the goings-on at Flemington, he’d have to get used to people. You couldn’t have a half-starved horse run the Melbourne Cup – not if it was to have any hope of winning.
Next she’d try to give him a brush while he ate. If she could manage that without him freaking, a routine could almost work. She made mental notes while she soaked up the rays and watched the rhythmic sway of the horse’s large glistening jaw.
The weeks after the Melbourne Cup blurred as Claire settled into a routine of working the horses in the mornings, and then bringing them in at night. But as the summer came on and the warm days grew longer, Claire began to feel the void of her empty afternoons and yearned for her own space.
Some days she just wanted to curl up with a good book or DVD but always felt self-conscious when her father came in, despite his cheery calls of ‘Sorry, don’t mind me’. She began spending more time in her bedroom when she wasn’t out with Bernadette or helping in her shop.
One Friday morning, Claire was taking a cup of coffee to her bedroom when she realised with a shock that she had come full circle. She was a teenager all over again – though without the lack of responsibility.
She stopped mid-stride, the coffee slapping dangerously close to the edges of the mug. Or maybe it wasn’t adolescence but the future – old fartdom – that she was seeing. She looked down at her large fluffy pink slippers and shuffled quickly to the phone, slamming her coffee down on the bench.
‘Bernie.’
‘Hey Claire, how’s it going?’
‘Bernie, I’m turning into an old fart.’
‘What, you’ve just realised this minute?’
‘I’m serious – you’ve got to help me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Tell me what you see when I say, “thirty-five-year-old jobless woman living with her father, wearing fluffy slippers at ten o’clock in the morning, carting a cup of coffee to her bedroom so she won’t get caught reading a book”.’
‘Ah, yes. All the classic symptoms. Two questions: is the coffee instant, and do you actually enjoy drinking it?’
‘Yes and yes.’ Claire laughed despite herself.
‘Well there’s only one cure.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Come over here and I’ll tell you. This calls for serious measures – I’ll break out the Tim Tams and get us some real coffee.’
Claire knew exactly what had to be done, but it was always so much easier having Bernadette take the lead – not to mention more fun.
‘Thanks Bern, see you soon.’
Just before she left, Claire phoned the city real estate agent she’d chosen for when this day came. She was in luck – a lovely couple had come in only the day before looking for a similar property, and gave the impression they were cashed up and ready to buy. Claire could almost hear the agent wringing his hands in delight at earning such an easy commission. She was glad she’d taken Bernadette’s advice a few weeks back and set the ball in motion.
She felt a little guilty at how easily she’d been able to hand over the keys to Keith’s pride and joy. When she and Bernadette had gone down for a weekend to get some more clothes and check all was in order, she’d noticed how detached she felt about the place – like she was checking on the home of a friend, not her own. She’d also noticed the contrast to her father’s cottage – realising it was not just tidier and more orderly, but cold, sparse and almost unwelcoming.
On her way over to Bernadette’s shop, Claire decided to get a cat or two for company when she got settled. Then she checked herself – it could take her months to find the right house. December could be a tricky time to buy. She was setting herself up for disappointment if she thought she’d find the perfect thing so easily. And she certainly wasn’t going to settle on the first one she saw.
Chapter Twenty–one
‘Right,’ Bernadette said, ushering Claire into her office at the back of the shop. ‘Have a Tim Tam or three while we wait for the coffees. Now I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of collecting the brochures from the local real estate agents, though there’s not really much around. So, what exactly do you have in mind?’
‘Oh, you know: whitewashed stone cottage, picket fence, garden full of roses, a couple of acres…’
‘Jeez, don’t half want much, do we?’
‘“Discerning”, I think they call it in the industry.’
‘Oh industry is it? Well don’t go getting all high and mighty on me – the rental accommodation has never been very flash out here – unless you fancy cream brick or falling-down rustic.’
Claire was busy perusing the brochures. ‘Here, what about this one?’ she said, turning the page around for Bernadette to see. ‘ “Just move in and enjoy the country life”, it says.’
‘That one’s for sale, silly, not lease.’
‘And the problem is?’ Claire challenged with a gleam in her eye.
‘What? You’re going to buy! Oh goody. But are you sure? Have you thought it through? Don’t you think you…?’
‘Shut up Bernie, you’re rambling like a pessimistic old woman – two things you are definitely not! And yes, I have thought things through. I’ve done the figures – ballpark, of course – and I’ve even got a list of requirements, from “absolute musts” to “I wish”.’
‘Ah, you and your lists. That’s my girl. Here, give me a look.’
Claire handed her the piece of lined paper.
‘Uh huh, right, yep, seems okay to me,’ Bernadette said, and then handed it back. ‘But the real estate agents will tear their hair out.’
They raised their heads at the subtle aroma of milky coffee. Moments later, David appeared in the doorway carrying a takeaway box with three cardboard cups in it.
‘And what are you devilish women cooking up this morning? Must be serious to require delivery. It’s not secret women’s business, is it?’
‘No, of course you can join us.’
‘Thought you’d never ask.’
‘Now, what do we owe you?’ Claire asked, fishing in her handbag for her wallet.
‘On the house. If you’ll let me in on your little dalliance. I need a bit of excitement this morning.’
‘You might change your mind about that.’
‘Try me.’
‘House hunting for Claire – she’s going to buy. Isn’t it fantastic?’
‘Absolutely. Sure you wouldn’t rather rent for a while first? It’s a pretty big commitment.’
‘God
. What is it with you two? You sound like parents.’
‘Just want the best for you, that’s all,’ they said in unison and burst into laughter.
‘So, are you in?’ Bernadette asked David.
‘Only if it’s okay with Claire. I don’t want to be the third wheel.’
‘It’d be good to have a third opinion, won’t it Claire? You can be the voice of reason, the objective one.’
‘Wouldn’t bet on it,’ David smirked. ‘I’m a bit of a love-at-first-sight kind of guy, but I’ll do my best to curb my enthusiasm.’
Claire tried to ignore the private look that passed between Bernadette and David. What was it with those two?
‘Well we can’t have her signing up for the first one she sees,’ Bernadette said, her blush subsiding.
‘Now where would the fun be in that? No, she has to experience the full range of emotions househunting brings – disappointment, disappointment and disappointment.’
‘Hey guys? Excuse me, I’m still here you know.’
‘Voices. Do I hear voices?’ David said, pretending to search the room.
Bernadette laughed.
‘Very funny. I’ll have you both know I’ve had my share of real estate nightmares. This is not my first purchase.’
‘Right then,’ David said. ‘Back to being serious – the requirements. I’m guessing whitewashed solid stone, picket fence, roses, cottage garden; not too untidy, set on a couple of acres; not too much to manage, but not too close to any neighbours.’
Claire was wide-eyed. ‘How did you know?’
‘Isn’t that what we all want? I keep forgetting you still haven’t seen my little place yet. So how about dinner? My place, Sunday night? You’ll need taking care of after a day of househunting. I say we sweet-talk the agents into opening privately for us. Then we won’t have to be ushered through like cows with everyone else.’
‘Oh David, you are cheeky.’
‘Besides, you’re off to the races at Morphettville tomorrow, aren’t you?’
‘Meanwhile, some of us have to work for a living,’ said Bernadette. ‘Might as well make the agents do the same.’
‘Exactly. They wouldn’t know what it’s like to have to do the hard sell – this place has been selling itself for years. So, how about you leave it to me? I’ll make a couple of calls and pick you girls up around ten from here.
‘Oh, and if the weather’s good we’ll put the top down, so you might both want to put your hair up or wear secure scarves. We don’t want any Bridget Jones moments, do we?’
‘No.’ Claire and Bernadette groaned and then laughed.
‘Well I’d better get back to my customers before they think I don’t love them – they’re already jealous of you two getting all my attention. So, just be here at ten o’clock Sunday unless you hear otherwise. It’ll be such a treat to be out with two gorgeous girls.’ David got up, kissed them each on the cheek, grabbed a Tim Tam, and left.
‘See ya,’ he called. Both women watched in silent admiration until David was out of sight.
‘So Bernie, you’re spending a lot of time with David these days.’
‘Isn’t he just the best fun?’ she said, and shook away the dreamy expression beginning to creep across her face. But Claire had noticed it – they’d been friends too long, shared too much of the good and bad for her not to.
‘There’s more to it than that.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Claire. He’s gay, remember? So, are you excited about the races tomorrow?’
‘Don’t remind me, I’m nervous as hell.’
‘Ah, you’ll be right.’
‘I’m not sure the horses are really ready.’
‘But you can withdraw them if they totally freak out or something, can’t you?’
‘Yeah, but we’ve paid entry fees. And it wouldn’t look good.’
‘To whom, Claire? Withdrawing would look a damn sight better than a horse wiping itself and its jockey out on the rail – not to mention all the other horses.’
‘Jeez, you really know how to put a girl at ease.’
‘Sorry, but you know what I meant. Anyway, who are you taking?’
‘Paycheque and Howie.’
‘And?’
‘And what?’
‘Their form – do they have any chance? Should I be putting some money on?’
‘Howie, maybe. The rate we’re going Paycheque will be withdrawn because of his temper. The son of one of Dad’s mates came by the other morning to have a ride – we were hoping he’d be our jockey – but the poor lad nearly lost a chunk out of his skinny little arse and now he won’t go anywhere near him.’
‘So will you find someone else on the day?’
‘Hopefully, but most of the half-decent jockeys are already booked. Whatever happens, it’ll be good to judge ourselves by what everyone else is doing. I’m learning to lower my expectations these days – less distance to fall.’
‘Though there’s a fine line between not having faith and setting the bar too high,’ Bernadette warned. ‘Remember, Claire: a step forward is a step forward, even if you end up taking two steps back. It’s still a learning experience.’
Claire wanted to tell Bernadette there wasn’t time in her twelve-month grand plan for any steps back. But she didn’t get the chance.
‘Want me to come? Be strapper, moral support, coffee carrier?’
‘Would you?’
‘Yeah, why not?’
‘The shop for one – I feel guilty taking you away so much.’
‘Now how am I going to be semi-retired at forty-five if I can’t leave my trainee manager in charge a few days a week? Anyway, it’ll be a fun day out.’
‘If that’s what you call dodging teeth, hooves and horseshit, and getting covered in dust, snot and slobber.’
‘Actually, that doesn’t sound unlike running a nursery. I’ll wear my steel caps and wet-weather coat then, shall I?’
Claire let out a huge sigh, unaware she had that much breath to let out. ‘You’re a lifesaver.’
‘I know, I’ll just add it to your IOU.’ Bernadette laughed, got up and made a show of going to the whiteboard on the wall and picking up a marker. They both chuckled.
Claire drained her cup and got up. ‘Well I’d better get back and get these monsters at least washed and presentable so I can have an early night.’
‘Yes, it’s going to be a whirlwind weekend, what with the house-hunting on Sunday as well. We might like being chauffeured around like ladies.’
Claire was secretly pleased she’d have Bernadette to herself tomorrow at the races. She really did like David, but it was true about three being a crowd.
That afternoon, Paycheque was a completely different horse to the one who’d bared his teeth and tried to grab Claire by the ponytail a few hours earlier. He stood patiently in the sun to be washed, doing nothing more than closing his eyes and putting his ears back to stop them filling with water. He even allowed his mane and tail to be vigorously shampooed.
Claire was stunned when he lowered his head to waist level to be dried and gave a contented sigh. Normally, she had to fight to get a towel anywhere near his face. If she hadn’t seen it for herself she would never have believed it.
Jack wandered past and she expressed her surprise, only to be greeted with a shrug. ‘Told you he wasn’t that bad.’
Claire stood with the horse and soaked up the sun for a few minutes before starting on the big chestnut, Howie – also known as Hazardous Waste – who was never any trouble.
Back in the house, after packing the ute with tack and feed for the next day, Claire marvelled at how similar and yet how different it felt to the old days when she was competing in Pony Club. She was experiencing a few pangs of apprehension, but nothing like the fear of failure that used to stop her eating for most of the twenty-four hours before an event. And she certainly wouldn’t miss the diarrhoea when she woke up, and the urge to vomit that always lasted until she went through the start flags for th
e cross country.
She lowered herself onto the lounge, savouring the first long slug of a large sherry.
‘Ready for your first big race day?’ Jack asked, sitting in the armchair with a beer in hand.
‘Dad, it’s not my first race day.’
‘It is as a trainer.’
‘Officially, I’m just your sidekick. I’m not actually qualified, remember?’
‘Yes you are.’
‘Dad, that’s really sweet, but we both know officially I’m just your daughter who helps out.’
‘Not any more.’ He reached down beside his chair and handed her a piece of paper, beaming.
Claire took the paper with a perplexed frown. ‘What’s this?’
‘Your very own trainer’s licence.’
‘What? How? Oh Dad, I don’t know what to say.’
‘Thanks will do, and how about a big hug for your old man?’
Claire jumped up. ‘Thank you.’ They hugged tightly. Her eyes prickled with tears. ‘But how? Don’t I need to be examined or something?’
‘Well a friend in the know called and said he’d heard the rules were changing. Soon all newcomers will have to do the course, regardless of family connections. Thought we’d better get in first.’
Chapter Twenty–two
Claire stood in front of Howie and Paycheque’s stalls while Bernadette went in search of a hot caffeine fix. Claire said she wanted to keep the horses company while they settled in, but really it was just to make sure Paycheque didn’t try to have a go at passers-by. It was as though he chose to rile people just because he could.
Today the horse seemed relatively relaxed, which was amazing given his last race day experience. He had his head over the gate and was snoozing in the sun like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.
There was a gentle nudge to her shoulder, and Claire half turned as Howie nuzzled under her arm, trying to get his nose in her pocket.
‘Sorry. Nothing for you, spoilt monster,’ she laughed, turning out her pockets as proof. She rubbed the horse on his wide forehead and ruffled his forelock. Howie closed his eyes, long lashes fluttering.
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