Faster Than Lightning

by Pam Harvey

  To Bronte, Eliza and Jo. This book and series has been a long time in the making, but you all believed in it so strongly and never doubted its publication.

  MP

  To Mel, my artistic daughter.

  PH

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1 Teasdale Racecourse: Friday morning

  Chapter 2 Tamworth Street, Teasdale: Friday afternoon

  Chapter 3 Teasdale Racecourse: Saturday

  Chapter 4 Rogan’s Road, Teasdale: Saturday night

  Chapter 5 Bentley’s Stud Farm, Teasdale South: Monday

  Chapter 6 Tamworth Street, Teasdale: Monday

  Chapter 7 Bentley’s Stud Farm, Teasdale South: Monday afternoon

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9 Tamworth Street, Teasdale: Monday afternoon

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11 Tamworth Street, Teasdale: Friday morning

  Chapter 12 Tamworth Street, Teasdale: Saturday morning

  Chapter 13 Rogan’s Road, Teasdale: Saturday night

  Chapter 14 Brookwood, Teasdale: Monday morning

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Glossary

  Horse Trivia The Melbourne Cup

  What’s in a Hand?

  All about Horses

  Bits and Pieces

  Fast Facts

  History-making Horses: Three of the Best

  Top of the Class

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  Also By Michael Panckridge

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter 1

  Teasdale Racecourse: Friday morning

  The young horse threw his head up and reared again. Angus sat forward in the saddle, hands firmly on the reins either side of the colt’s neck, and gritted his teeth. For the twentieth time that morning, he wished he was riding King, his own gelding, and not this colt that had rarely been on the track before. As the horse landed on all four hooves, three strappers rode past. Angus saw Jack among them.

  ‘Having some trouble, Gussy boy?’

  Jack was riding his stable’s favourite mare. Her coat was a velvety chocolate in the early morning light. She looked magnificent. Angus scowled, wiped his brown curly hair away from his eyes and pushed his helmet down further.

  ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’

  ‘You can handle anything, so the rumour goes. Angus is the next strapper of the year.’ Jack didn’t look at him as he spoke but addressed the other boys. Angus could imagine the smirk on Jack’s face.

  ‘You know I’m not a strapper. You can’t be at thirteen. I’m just helping Dad.’ He would have said more but his horse grabbed at the bit and took off along the track.

  Angus sat down hard, trying to hold him back. The horse fought, shaking his head and kicking up his back legs. Angus talked as they struggled, trying to calm the colt. ‘Settle, you stupid horse,’ he said quietly, keeping his hands low. ‘Easy does it, easy…’

  By halfway around the track, the colt had slowed to a steady trot. Angus could lift his head to study what was going on around him. The sun was just beginning to rise and threads of light let him see most of the racecourse.

  Besides race days, this was the busiest time of the day for the track. Racing stables lined one side of the fence, horses coming and going in and out of their gates. Visiting stables, like his father’s Brookwood, parked their vans in a section along the end of the horse yards and used the stables next to them. Each van brought at least two thoroughbreds. Horses called to each other and trainers shouted and strappers ran here and there. It was hectic.

  Angus urged his horse into a canter and followed the outer rail. Every now and then, small groups of thoroughbreds galloped past and the colt would start to fight again.

  ‘You just keep it steady,’ Angus said to him. ‘It’ll be your turn to race one day.’ The horse flicked his ears back and forth at the boy’s words.

  They had nearly made their way around the track when the sound of thundering hooves made Angus look behind him. Usually strappers rode in twos or threes, but this was a group of at least ten horses, taking up the whole track. Angus steered his horse as close to the rail as he could, but it still seemed like there wasn’t enough room.

  ‘What are they doing?’ he muttered to himself as he tightened the reins to try to keep his horse in check. The colt heard the commotion behind him, tucked his back legs under him and threw his head up. Angus had to sit down in the saddle to stop the horse from going berserk.

  The group of horses drew level with Angus, the outside one brushing against him so that their stirrups clanged together. ‘Watch out,’ he said angrily.

  ‘Sorry, mate,’ called the rider but he didn’t move from his position.

  It was strange behaviour for track riders. Usually other people kept out of the way when someone was training, even if they were arch rivals. Anyone can see that I’m on a young horse, Angus thought. What’s wrong with them?

  Even stranger was the way the riders were travelling. It seemed that one horse was in the middle and the others were spread around him like…well, like bodyguards.

  The young colt couldn’t handle it anymore. The others were just too close. He tensed under Angus and started bucking. Angus held the horse’s head up as best he could, but the colt was letting him have it big time. They ploughed sideways into the mob of horses, making them scatter.

  ‘Careful!’ yelled one of the men. ‘Move that horse out of here!’

  Like I’m not trying, Angus thought grimly as he tried to steady the colt beneath him. The horse was thoroughly spooked and had his own ideas. He kept kicking out. Angus felt hot slippery sweat along the animal’s neck. ‘Easy does it,’ he said quietly, trying to get the horse’s attention. ‘Settle down, take it easy.’

  Suddenly they were in the centre of the pack, next to the horse that the others seemed to be guarding. Angus glimpsed a tall black with a snip of white along its nose before his horse crashed into it. There was a roar of something angry from the man riding the black. Angus looked at him and saw the man looking down at his horse’s shoulder, checking for injuries. Angus felt bad but was struggling enough with his own mount to be too worried about the other horse. He settled down and tried to find his way out of the pack.

  The colt slowed, finally taking notice of its rider. The horses in the group pushed past, settling back in their positions around the black. Angus pulled the colt down to a walk and patted the wet neck. ‘Good boy,’ he murmured, keeping his voice calm even if his words weren’t. ‘Stupid morons. Why were they riding like that? Easy does it. Easy now.’

  He made the horse walk calmly along the rest of the track and then turned through the exit.

  The world off the track was still busy. Horses went past him, getting ready for their turn to run. Angus threaded his way through the trucks and made it to his father’s.

  ‘Okay then, Angus?’ Mr MacDonald was putting a rug on their other horse. He was busy doing straps up and checking the horse to see whether it had cooled down, but Angus wasn’t fooled. He knew his father would have seen everything that had happened on the track. ‘Bunched up a bit today, weren’t they? That’s the new horse from Bentley’s. Trying it out on this track before it races here this weekend.’

  ‘Could’ve given me a bit more room but I think the colt’s okay,’ said Angus, jumping off and flinging the reins over the horse’s head. He did a quick tour of its body just in case, running his hands over each leg to feel for heat or injuries. The colt was fine and even managed a playful nip on the boy’s arm. />
  ‘I’ll walk him out a bit more,’ said Mr MacDonald. ‘You go and have some breakfast. You probably need it after a ride like that. The thermos is on the front seat and food’s in the box.’

  His father took the reins of the young horse, pulling the saddle off and flinging a light rug across its back. Angus saw the way his dad rubbed the colt’s nose affectionately before he walked off to the cool-down yard. There was no doubt that Mr MacDonald loved his horses—you could see it in his eyes when he was around them. For some men, training racehorses was just a business. For Angus’s father, it was something he was born to do. And that’s how Angus felt too. Most times. At the moment, though, he was starving.

  He climbed into the front seat of the truck. Earlier that morning, hours before the sun had risen, Angus’s dad had made a thermos and packed their breakfast. Angus looked at the time. He still had an hour before he had to meet Hannah—an hour to eat breakfast, finish the horses, clean the truck and the box stalls they used every Tuesday and Friday mornings, have a shower and get ready for school. It sounded like a long time, but with horses you never knew what was going to come up. Sometimes he’d had to go to school without a shower, spending all day sniffing his clothes and wondering whether he stank. Luckily this was the last day of school before holidays.

  It would be easier to go home and get ready, Angus thought. But everything was in the truck; even his bike had been tied onto the metal bar that ran along the side, ready to be ridden to school. Usually Dad stayed on at the track. Since Mum had died, there was no hurry for his father to go home.

  Angus hunted through the box of food his dad had left and grabbed some bread and Vegemite. The thermos was full of steaming Milo and, as he sipped it, he felt better. The bad track experience began to fade, although he could still see Jack’s smirking face as the young horse had played up in front of him. And it was strange how the other horses had ridden past him in such a large group.

  After breakfast, he helped his dad with the stables and cleaned the truck. He’d only just finished getting himself ready for school when Hannah found him.

  ‘Hey, Angus. Oh, hello, Mr Mac.’ Hannah Williams stood a safe distance from the horses that were tied up at the truck. She’d been to the track enough times to know that they were unpredictable.

  ‘Hi, Hannah. I’ll just help Dad get the horses on.’ Angus went to untie the older horse.

  ‘No, you go, Angus. I’ll do it. I don’t want you to be late.’ Mr Mac gave Angus a pat on the shoulder.

  ‘If you’re sure, Dad.’ Angus hesitated, then pulled his bag on his back and flung his leg over his bike. ‘See you later. I might be over at Han’s after school.’

  Hannah waved to Mr Mac. ‘He’ll be home for tea.’

  She smiled at Angus’s father. He was a friendly, hard-working man who had worked even harder since Mrs Mac had died, and sometimes Hannah felt sorry for him. She knew that Angus didn’t like to leave him, but he had to go to school. She looked up and spotted Angus in the distance, looking back at her.

  ‘Come on, Hannah!’ he yelled. ‘Last day of school today!’

  ‘As if I didn’t realise that!’ Hannah muttered, pedalling like crazy to catch up with her friend.

  Chapter 2

  Tamworth Street, Teasdale: Friday afternoon

  ‘Hannah! Wait!’ A young boy riding his bike behind Hannah and Angus stood up on his bike pedals and pushed hard, trying to catch up to them.

  ‘Ride faster, Angus. It’s Sean.’ Hannah rode past Angus with her head down, her face red with determination.

  ‘Aren’t you meant to wait for him? He’s your little brother.’

  Angus grinned as Hannah stopped pedalling and let her bike slow down until it was next to him again.

  ‘He’s such a pain in the neck,’ Hannah said. ‘Always hanging around us. I reckon he’s big enough to ride home from school by himself.’

  ‘But your mum—’

  ‘Yes, I know. Mum would skin me alive if I came home without him.’ Hannah sighed and braked a bit. A small boy with a smile as big as a banana caught up with them.

  ‘Hi, Angus. How’s King?’

  Angus had let Sean ride his chestnut gelding the weekend before, and now Sean couldn’t stop talking about him. The story going around his school was how they’d been for a gallop around the practice track. Angus had really only led Sean along the path by the creek.

  ‘King’s good. Fat and happy in his paddock.’

  ‘He’s not fat. He’s the King. But he won’t race again, will he, Angus?’

  Angus smiled. ‘No, he’s retired now, but he’s a pretty good horse.’

  ‘Hey,’ said Hannah. ‘Looks like Mum’s got visitors.’

  They rode up the driveway to Hannah and Sean’s house, careful to avoid the sporty blue car parked there. They left their bikes on the lawn and went around to the back door. As they passed the kitchen window, Hannah looked in to see who was there. Suddenly she ducked and swung around the corner, stopping to lean back against the house wall.

  ‘What’s up?’ asked Angus.

  ‘Mum’s visitor.’ Hannah frowned.

  ‘Who is it, Hannah?’ Sean went to go back to the window but his sister grabbed him.

  ‘It’s Mum’s friend, Natasha Miller.’

  ‘Tash!’ said Sean. ‘I like Tash. She usually gives us presents.’

  ‘I know,’ said Hannah. ‘Like the time she gave you a yo-yo that fell to bits the first time you used it.’

  ‘It was a glow in the dark one!’

  ‘And the time she gave me a disposable torch that worked for a total of ten minutes.’

  ‘At least you got something,’ said Angus.

  Hannah sighed. ‘Yeah, I know. I’m not really complaining but she’s just so fake. Mum loves her; they went to university together. She just gives us things to make Mum think she’s nice.’

  ‘Well, I’m going to see her, anyway.’ Sean pulled himself free of Hannah’s grip and went inside the house.

  ‘She can’t be that bad,’ said Angus.

  Hannah shrugged. ‘It’s probably just me. Come on.’

  In the kitchen, Sean was wrapped in the hug of a woman with long blonde hair and nails like pink spikes. ‘It’s sooo lovely to see you, little Sean!’ she was saying.

  Angus saw Sean flinch at the ‘little’. ‘I turned nine in August,’ Sean said.

  Natasha smiled widely and turned to Hannah. ‘And Hannah! You’ve grown so big!’

  Hannah’s usually pale face went rosy. She’d grown heaps in the last year, upwards and outwards too. Her mother had said she was a throwback to her Celtic ancestors who were proud warriors. In a way, this made Hannah feel good. Not today, though. She didn’t want to look big in front of Tash. ‘Hello, Tash. This is my friend, Angus.’

  ‘Hello, Angus. How are you?’ Angus would have replied, but Tash had already stopped looking at him. She let Sean go and fumbled around for a bag at her feet. ‘I’ve got something for the children.’

  ‘Tash has just been to a conference in the city. She’s a genetic scientist,’ Mrs Williams explained to Angus. ‘The conference was about how to use DNA.’

  ‘You mean cloning?’

  ‘That’s just one thing DNA is used for.’ Tash blinked at the trail of mud Sean had brought in from outside. ‘We had a great debate about the uses of DNA taken from dead tissue.’

  ‘Dead tissues?’ Under his mother’s glare, Sean was about to wipe up the mud from the tiled floor.

  Tash was looking at Mrs Williams. She seemed to have forgotten the rest of them. ‘They were talking about whether they’d be able to clone dead famous people like Elvis Presley or Walt Disney just from using bits of their skin.’

  ‘That wouldn’t be possible,’ said Hannah’s mother. ‘You can’t make famous living things out of famous dead things. They’re usually buried and turned to dust.’

  Tash laughed.

  ‘Not all famous dead things have turned to dust,’ said Angus. ‘I went to
this museum with Dad about four years ago where they had parts of dead famous racehorses. We’d tried to go the week before but there’d been a break-in.’

  ‘Parts of dead famous racehorses? That’s disgusting,’ Hannah said.

  ‘No, it was great! They had Perfection’s hoof and Too Late Now’s tail and Natural Disaster’s head.’

  ‘They had a horse’s head in the museum?’ Sean was looking horrified.

  ‘Heads and hearts and skeletons. All sorts of stuff.’ Angus would have said more but Tash cut him off.

  ‘Oh, my goodness! Look at that time!’ She was on her feet suddenly, holding a glossy paper bag out to Sean. ‘Have this, darling. Share things with your sister. It’s full of bits and pieces from the conference: pens and paper and a computer mat. Look! Some opera glasses.’ She pulled out a small pair of binoculars and waved them at Hannah. ‘You could use them for boy watching. I don’t need any of this stuff. It’s all yours. I must go—I’ve got things to do.’ She spun around the room, kissing everyone, even Angus, on the cheek.

  ‘I’m going to get Tash to drop me off at the shops so I can get some milk. I’ll be back in ten minutes.’ Mrs Williams took Tash’s arm and they went out the front door. The blue car sped out of the driveway and took off down the street.

  ‘Weird,’ said Hannah.

  ‘Mum isn’t weird!’ said Sean.

  Hannah rolled her eyes. ‘Not Mum, the other one.’

  The phone interrupted her.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ yelled Sean.

  ‘I’m the oldest. I’ll get it.’ Hannah picked up the phone. ‘Hello. Oh, hi, Gabby. School’s finished for the term! Cool, isn’t it? You want to speak to Angus? How did you know he was here? Just a guess? Yeah, right. Hang on; I’ll put you on speaker phone.’ She pressed a button and a girl’s voice filled the kitchen.

  ‘Thanks, Hannah. Angus? Are you there? You won’t believe what’s happening!’

  Hannah rolled her eyes. Gabby sounded like she was exaggerating again.

  Angus tried to listen but it was increasingly hard. A motorbike was coming across the empty paddocks opposite Hannah and Sean’s house, its high-pitched two-stroke scream getting louder and louder. It stopped at the fence line while its rider kicked a gate open, then went across the road into Hannah’s driveway and stopped outside the kitchen window. The rider grinned and revved the bike.