She looked at him as she ducked under his neck to change sides for grooming. His eyes were almost fully closed in what looked like contentment. The herbs and acupressure must really be working to keep him calm and pain free. Whatever it was, if they could keep him in this state, it would make life a lot easier for all of them.
‘Okay, Claire. We’re off,’ Maddie called from outside.
Claire poked her head out of the stable and saw Maddie leading Howie out of the one next door. ‘Are you sure you’re okay to do this much riding so soon? Seriously, I can do it later.’
‘I’m fine. It’ll stop me getting stiff, and anyway, we have such a good routine going it would be a pity to upset it.’
‘A couple of days won’t matter.’
‘I’ll just take him on a long stroll, stretch his legs. Walk, trot and a little canter.’
‘Okay. But don’t overdo it. You might be even stiffer tomorrow if you’re not careful.’
‘You worry too much,’ Maddie said, putting the reins over Howie’s head and getting on.
‘It’s my job to worry – I’m the boss.’
‘Righto, I’m off.’
Claire finished brushing Paycheque’s tail, changed his rug, and hung the one he’d been wearing inside out on the day yard rail in the sun. She checked her watch. Damn, it was time to start the massage again.
She sat down heavily on the bucket, took a deep breath, and started pulling at the Velcro securing the bandage on his bad leg. Will certainly hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d warned them it would be gruelling. Her hands were still stiff from the last massage and her head ached from concentrating and lack of sleep.
At least the regime of an hourly massage was only for the first twenty-four hours. Then they’d get a bit of respite as it became every couple of hours until the swelling subsided. But they were still looking at two to four times a day for the next three months, until Paycheque was fully recovered and back in training. She just hoped it would all be worth it. What if they did all this for seven days and he was no better? Would they have to contemplate putting him down? No, she really couldn’t think like that. Will was adamant it could be done – he’d been successful before with the same injury, even with racehorses.
Claire finished doing up the straps of Paycheque’s rug, then went over to Jack and Will who were standing by the rainwater tank at the far end of the stables. Jack was leaning on a shovel.
‘What are you up to?’ she called as she got close.
‘Will thinks all the horses would benefit from a herb garden to pick at.’
‘It works well if there’s a variety and they can walk past and choose what they want. They’ll crave what they need to stay healthy,’ Will said.
It sounded a bit far-fetched, but so far he’d been right with Paycheque, so who was she to argue? ‘Okay.’
‘So, we’ve decided here by the tank is the best spot, see: we’ve marked it out. What do you think? We figure there’s enough sun in the morning, and when it gets hot in the heat of summer there’ll be shade from the tanks.’ Jack said.
‘Bernie’s better with gardening than me.’
‘This spot was her suggestion. She and David have gone off to get the herbs she has in stock and order what she doesn’t.’
So why bother even discussing it with me? She told herself off for being so catty and put it down to being tired. ‘Bernie said something about a mini spa – what’s the story there?’
‘Running warm water over the injury as much as you can will also be beneficial,’ explained Will.
‘We had a look around but couldn’t find anything the right size,’ Jack said. ‘So we might have to scrap that idea.’
‘How much would it help?’
‘Well not doing it wouldn’t jeopardise his recovery, but I do think it would help.’
‘Right.’ Claire thought for a few moments. ‘What about one of the fountains Bernie sells? They pump the water around and around. We could fill the pond with warm water and have the fountain run it up and onto his leg.’
‘Brilliant idea!’
‘Yes, I think that could work,’ Will said, thoughtfully. ‘Well I’ll leave that to you to figure out. You’ve got a few days before Paycheque can leave his stable. I’d better get going. I’ll just check in on him on my way past.’
‘Thanks for everything, Will,’ Jack said, shaking the man’s hand.
‘My pleasure. I’ll see you again soon.’
Jack started digging the soil for the herb garden as Claire and Will walked back towards the stables.
‘Paycheque definitely seems better this morning, don’t you think?’ Will said.
‘Yes, there’s still some swelling but not nearly as much as I thought there’d be. And he seems calm enough.’
‘We’ll have the wee thing out and about in no time.’
‘And you really think he could be back racing in four months?’
‘Absolutely. But, remember, it’s important to be gradual. You’ll all have to have resist the urge to rush things.’
Will peered into Paycheque’s eyes before going into the stable. He ran his hands down all of the horse’s legs and gave him a general, quick going-over.
‘You’re doing well, son,’ he said, leaving the stable and giving the horse a solid pat on his neck.
‘I’ll see you in a few days, but feel free to phone if you have any worries,’ he called from the old Volvo’s open window.
Claire waved him off. She checked her watch – nearly time to start again. It was the last stint she had to do that day. Then she could go home for a snooze before the evening schedule of feeding and rugging all the horses. She was sitting down to begin again when she realised she’d forgotten to ask Derek to shut the kittens in the laundry when he left. God only knew what havoc they’d been up to for the last few hours. Speaking of Derek, he’d said he would drop in on his way past. So where was he?
At that moment Claire heard the crunch of tyres on gravel and the purr of a car engine. She returned her attention to Paycheque’s leg.
‘Hello there, little mate. I come bearing gifts,’ Claire heard Derek say from the gate.
‘Hello,’ she said from her perch on the bucket.
‘Ah, bucket. Good idea,’ Derek said, peering in at her.
‘Did I hear you say you come bearing gifts?’
‘Yes. Sorry – for him, not for you. Carrots. He’s allowed, isn’t he?’
‘Yep. Crawler!’
‘Guilty as charged,’ Derek said, pulling a carrot from inside his jacket and holding it out to Paycheque.
Claire returned to her massage amid the crunching as the horse devoured a number of carrots, one after the other. When she was finished ten minutes later, she got up from the bucket to see Derek holding his jacket open and Paycheque snuffling around at his chest.
‘Sorry mate, none left.’
Claire smiled at the touching scene, and slipped through the bars of the gate.
‘Can I now take you away from all of this?’ Derek asked.
‘Well for a few hours, yes.’
‘Come on then, we’ve got plans,’ he said.
‘I’ll have to go home first – to have a shower and check on Bill and Ben.’
‘No you don’t. They should be fine – I locked them in the laundry when I left. And where we’re going, they won’t mind one bit if you’re covered in horse snot.’
Chapter Thirty–five
They got into Derek’s BMW and drove off down the driveway.
‘So, where are we going?’
‘You’ll see.’
Claire watched the large gum trees and green pastures from the car window. Before long, acres of timber and wire trellising with bare woody grapevines dominated the landscape.
‘Remember, I said I have to be back around three.’
‘Yes, Claire, I haven’t forgotten. So, everything is going okay having Maddie working and living at the farm?’
‘Yes, great, thanks to your genero
sity.’
‘Well it’s win-win, so let’s just leave it at that.’
‘Thanks for shutting up Bill and Ben. I forgot to ask.’
‘At least you approve. They weren’t very impressed with me.’
‘No, I’m sure. Little monsters. They wouldn’t have to be locked up if they were better behaved. I hope getting them desexed is going to help. How are Terry and Sandy doing?’
‘Pretty cute – a lot more laid-back than your two. They’re like little old men.’
‘Ah. Are we going to your house, Derek?’
‘You’ll have to wait and see.’
Claire sat back and folded her arms across her chest.
‘Do you think Jack will mind having the two cats for a week? I’ve got to go to Sydney again.’
‘Wouldn’t have thought. Jack loves cats. Might be a good idea for the feed shed in case this mouse plague they’re forecasting hits. As long as they don’t get under the horses’ feet.’
‘Well they’ve got nine lives. Hopefully they’ll only need a couple to learn to steer clear.’
‘Very funny.’
‘I thought so.’ They shared a grin.
‘Seriously, where are you taking me?’
‘Worry not, my dear – you’ll see soon.’
They turned off the bitumen road onto a well-maintained dirt road. After a few hundred metres they turned into a driveway marked by a large milk can mailbox painted in a rich, glossy ruby red, laying on its side atop a post. Underneath it hung a small white sign with ‘D.L. & A.T. Anderson’ in black.
Claire concentrated on taking in as much of the view outside the window as she could. The driveway ended after a right angle at a large double-fronted stone home set high on a wide verandah. A stand of large gum trees in neat rows flanked the house to the right, and ended in miniature against a range of blue-green hills in the distance.
‘Welcome,’ Derek said, stopping the car in front on the white gravel, and turning off the key.
‘It’s lovely,’ Claire said, staring up at the house.
‘Thanks. Come on, I’ll give you a quick tour outside before we go in.’
Claire was impressed at how neat and tidy Derek kept his property. As she went through his shed she noticed all the tools were lined up on a shadow board with spanners, screwdrivers and sockets all in graduating sizes. The benches were clear. An old ute and a ride-on lawnmower were neatly lined up at one end of the shed. Not a speck of oil was visible on the concrete floor. She wondered what Derek thought when he visited the run-down chaotic farm.
They finished the tour at the back of the house where an expansive sandstone patio overlooked a small running creek. It was one of the loveliest settings she’d ever seen.
‘Wow,’ Claire said, watching the water making its way over the rocks and around the bends. ‘That’s just gorgeous.’
‘It’s what originally sold us on the place. The previous owners were clever enough to sell in autumn when there was water but it wasn’t too cold and wet. Amy was a romantic through and through. So of course she fell in love with the idea of sitting out reading in the sun with the sound of water trickling around her.’
‘I’m not surprised. I would have too.’
‘Of course, romantic notions are all well and good until reality hits, aren’t they?’
‘Oh?’
‘We’ve had a couple of close calls with floods. Maddie’s old tack room is now home to a stack of sandbags all ready to go. And I have to pump out the cellar every few months.’
‘Cellar? Nice.’
‘Well not quite. But we’ll leave that for another tour. It’s a homemade job. Not by me – some idiot who just thought digging under the house and pouring a bit of concrete was enough. Didn’t think about the watertable or the drainage. One day I’ll get someone to deal with it properly. Or not – I’ve lived with it this long.’
The sun went behind the thick bank of clouds overhead, taking with it the heat Claire was enjoying on her back. Without it, it was a pretty chilly day. She shivered. She’d forgotten to grab her coat from her car before leaving the farm.
Derek put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Come on, it’s too cold to be standing around out here.’ He ushered her along the verandah to the front door. ‘Bad feng shui to have a guest enter through the back door.’
He put the key into the lock on the solid four-panelled door painted in the same rich red as the milk can mailbox. She wiped her feet on the mat and was just about to step over when her attention was caught by an enamel sign on the wall. She did a double take. It looked old and traditional like the coach light above it, but there was something different about it. She reread the wording carefully: ‘Friends welcome, family by appointment’.
‘Cute, huh?’ Derek said.
‘Very.’
‘Maddie’s doing – a present last Father’s Day. Who was I to argue?’
Derek stepped aside to let Claire pass into the wide central hall with a red oriental runner stretching its length. Floorboards were visible either side of the carpet. He dropped his keys into a polished brass bowl atop the first of three narrow hallstands. Photo frames stood on the second, halfway down, and a large empty Japanese porcelain vase in blue and white was on the other at the far end.
‘Sorry, but not quite tidy enough to give you the full tour,’ he said, nodding at the closed doors either side of them as they made their way down the hall.
‘These are lovely, Derek,’ Claire said, pausing and looking around at the various watercolours and oil paintings adorning the walls.
‘Not my doing, I’m afraid. Amy was a bit of a whiz with decorating. I’ve left everything pretty much as it was. Because I like it, not out of holding onto the past or anything,’ he added, looking Claire in the eye. He opened a door with etched glass panels at the end of the hall and stepped through onto a flagstone floor. To their left was an open-plan kitchen in tasteful but dated timber cabinetry and matching bench tops. To the right was a round rustic pine table and six high-backed chairs. Everything was tidy – nothing out of place. Claire found it hard to believe the rooms off the hall – no doubt bedrooms – were too untidy to be shown.
Derek continued forward, and they stepped down into a sunken living area, with huge modular sofas in worn brown velour taking up two sides. ‘And now, let me present the best spot in the whole house in winter,’ he said, opening his arms wide.
Claire looked around her. He was absolutely right. They were facing a bank of glass sliding doors overlooking the patio, and beyond it, the creek. Just then the sun came out from behind the clouds and flooded through the windows and across the floor to where they stood. Over to their left was a glass-fronted slow-combustion fire with glowing coals.
‘You sit there in the sun,’ Derek said, pointing to the position closest to the windows, ‘and I’ll just put some more wood on the fire.’
Claire did as she was told and sat, both watching Derek and taking in the rest of the space around her. She could see why he’d stayed on and left the décor unchanged after his wife had died.
Finished with the fire, he went to the kitchen. ‘Right. Would you prefer red or white wine?’
‘I’m not sure I should be drinking at all – I’ve got to drive later.’
‘Not for hours. And so do I. Just a glass or two. But don’t feel pressured. I’m having a red myself, but I’m happy to open both.’
‘A glass of red would be nice, thanks.’
Derek brought the bottle and two glasses and put them down on the large antique trunk that served as a coffee table. ‘Feel free to kick your boots off and stretch out,’ he said, offering her a glass of wine. ‘I’m just going to rustle us up some lunch.’
‘We’re having frittata and salad. Hope that’s okay,’ he said, now back in the kitchen.
‘Perfect. Have you been baking, Derek?’ she teased.
‘Now, when would I have had time to do that? No, this is courtesy of David. But I assure you, I can actually cook.�
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‘I can’t believe you’ve had time to organise lunch and light the fire and everything. You could have just given me directions to make my own way – saved you the trouble.’
‘Come on Claire, you wouldn’t have come. You would have gone straight home for a nap. Which you can do here once we’ve eaten.’
Claire checked her watch.
‘Stop looking at your bloody watch – I’ve got everything under control.’
‘I know, but…’
‘But what? You don’t trust me? Is that it?’
‘Well I’ve got…’
‘Claire, please just let yourself relax for a few hours. Indulge me – and yourself – will you?’
Claire sipped her wine. It was a nice rich Barossa red: thick and syrupy. She guessed it to be a Shiraz, given the peppery finish. She put the wine on the table, took off her boots and tucked her feet underneath her to warm them up. She stared across at the now blazing fire. The sun was still streaming in through the windows. Claire turned slightly so it could warm her back. She closed her eyes and drank in its heavenly heat, seeping through her clothes and into her bones. Moments later she detected movement and opened her eyes to see Derek standing before her holding cutlery and two plates piled high with food. Claire accepted a plate.
‘Bon appétit,’ he said, sitting down with a plate on his lap.
‘Thank you. This looks great.’
‘I’m sure it will be, but as I said, I can’t take the credit. Maybe next time.’
They exchanged smiles and clinked glasses.
‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers.’
Derek and Claire ate in silence for a few minutes until two ginger kittens – one pale and one dark – appeared in front of them stretching and yawning.
‘Ah, here they are. Where have you guys been?’ Derek said. They looked him up and down for a moment, sniffed at the coffee table, and went over to the fire and lay down. ‘Isn’t it amazing how much cats sleep?’
‘Apparently around twenty-two hours,’ Claire said. ‘At least yours don’t seem to roar around in destruction mode for the other two hours like mine do.’
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