Paycheque (12 page)

‘No, not really.'

‘Significantly faster than you or just a bit?'

‘I have no idea. It all happened very fast.'

‘But they were definitely speeding?'

‘Yes.'

‘And you can be sure because…'

‘Because I was doing the speed limit – 100 – and they both went
past me. That means they were speeding, right? Look, I really don't have time for this.'

‘And you say you came around the bend and there they were?'

‘Yes.'

‘And then what did you do?'

‘I was trying to call emergency but my phone didn't have a signal. And then the couple in the four-wheel drive turned up.'

‘So they were the ones who called the emergency services?'

‘Yes – the woman did.'

‘So their phone had service then?'

‘I guess it must have done,' she said, a sarcastic tone creeping into her voice. She half expected him to tell her to change her carrier to someone more reliable.

‘Right. And then what did you do?'

‘Well I was trying to figure out how to disconnect the batteries. That's what I was doing when the CFS – and you – turned up. Please, can I go now?' She willed herself not to look at her watch.

‘If you're sure you've got nothing more to add.'

‘Yes, I'm sure. That's all I know.'

‘Right, thank you. Yes, you can go. But we might need to contact you at a later date.'

‘Fine.'

The police officer opened Claire's door and she got in. ‘You okay to drive?' the policeman asked. But it sounded more like a statement than a genuine enquiry.

‘Yes, fine, thanks,' she said, nodding. But Claire didn't feel fine at all. She felt shaken and traumatised, not at all like she should be driving. But she had to sort out Paycheque, and time was running out.

She started her car and looked down the road. She began to feel queasy at the thought of having to drive past the wreckage. Suddenly Keith was in one of those cars, fighting for his life, in immense pain but only able to offer groans as his body failed. She had to get out of here.

‘You sure you're okay? You look a bit pale. Maybe you should hang around for a bit longer.'

‘I'm fine, really,' she lied. She checked her mirrors, put the car in gear, and pulled carefully onto the road. After she'd passed the wreckage she noticed in her rear vision mirror that the CFS crew were beginning to block the road with witches' hats.

As she drove, Claire debated whether to call in and see if Bernadette was available to lend a hand. She felt wrecked. It had already been a long, difficult day and it was far from over. Claire pulled a sticky hand from the wheel, ran it across her forehead and let out a deep sigh. She'd gone off to clear her head with a bit of shopping before visiting Jack. If only she'd gone for a walk instead.

Claire pulled into the rough driveway and tried to ignore the depressing emptiness that was the absence of horses mooching about in paddocks. She consoled herself that all that was about to change. But would it? She wondered. One horse was a start, but it would hardly bring the old place back to life. Horses were social animals – what if Paycheque was miserable here on his own? She brightened – people were always trying to find homes for unwanted horses and ponies. Bernadette was bound to know someone who knew someone. That was one of the great things about country life.

Claire was so focussed on summoning the energy to go into the house she almost didn't see Bernadette's car by the front verandah. Her best friend was grinning cheekily at her from the back steps. Claire leapt out of the car and threw her arms around her.

‘What are you doing here?'

‘Little bird told me you might need a hand picking up a horse.'

Claire's eyes were wide. ‘How the hell…? This place is far too small,' she said, and laughed.

‘I'll tell you on the way,' she said, clapping her hands. ‘Let's get this show on the road.'

‘The ute keys are inside,' Claire said. She retrieved the house key from her glove box and then stood in front of the door. She wanted to be strong and just open the door and walk in. But she couldn't. She felt a complete fool – it was so damn childish.

In a split second Bernadette had grabbed the key.

‘Pathetic, huh?'

‘Not at all. But I say we deal with it another day – we've got a horse to get.'

‘Keys are on the shelf above the kettle, just inside the kitchen.'

‘Thanks. Now you organise a halter and fill a hay net. I'll meet you at the float.'

Rarely did Claire McIntyre enjoy being told what to do, even by her best friend. But right now she was relieved to have someone else giving the orders.

Twenty minutes later they were heading off.

‘I can't believe the ute started first time,' Claire said.

‘Obviously I had my tongue held right.' Bernadette grinned and patted the steering wheel, cooing, ‘Who's a good girl, then?'

Claire hadn't objected when Bernadette had climbed back into the driver's seat after hooking on the float. Now the adrenaline was starting to subside, she didn't think she'd be able to drive anyway. She stretched her legs out and noticed a pair of work boots on the floor at her feet. She picked them up and turned them over wondering what they were doing there.

Bernadette noticed her quizzical expression. ‘I grabbed the smallest from the laundry – I assumed they must be yours.'

‘Yes, thanks, but I can't possibly wear them.'

‘Why not?'

Claire indicated her attire with raised eyebrows.

‘I don't care how you look – safety first. I'm not having a cantankerous horse and you with a broken foot to deal with alone. Anyway, Jack would kill me. Remember the day he caught us without boots and helmets at the quarry?'

‘God, yes. And we were doing so well impressing those boys until he turned up. How embarrassing.'

‘Yeah, but don't worry, no one will see you today.'

They were bound to bump into the whole damn town if her current track record was anything to go by, but Claire was too tired to argue. She just hoped Paycheque would behave himself. At least they had safety in numbers, if not strength. She and Bernadette had always been a great team – highly competitive at times, but a great team when it counted.

After a few moments, Claire snapped to attention. ‘Oh my God! I still haven't rung the hospital,' she blurted. ‘Jack'll be wondering where I am.'

‘It's okay – I rang them and explained. Well sort of. They said they'd make up some innocuous story. They're still keeping things simple with him until he's stronger. So don't worry, it's all under control.'

‘I can't thank you enough, Bernie – you're the best…'

‘I know, I know. Don't go getting all carried away,' Bernadette said quickly. ‘We've a mission to complete.'

Claire sat upright. ‘So how did you find out about all this anyway?'

‘About third hand I think – you know how the bush telegraph works. Daryl Hannaford came into the shop – you remember him, has the cherry orchard out on Grey's Road. Anyway, he was at the post office and overheard one of the guys from the abattoir telling someone else the hilarious story of some crazy, dolled-up city chick by the name of McIntyre turning up and paying double to save a horse from the knackery.

‘Oh great,' Claire groaned, ‘I'm now my very own urban myth.'

‘Country actually,' Bernadette corrected with a grin.

‘But I didn't tell anyone my name.'

‘It's stamped on your cheque, silly.'

A few hours later they had kicked off their shoes, poured glasses of wine, and were curled up on Bernadette's couch. Paycheque was settled at the farm with plenty of food and water.

The horse had behaved perfectly, loading and unloading like a dream – though Bernadette hadn't given him any choice. She'd marched up to the little horse, put the halter on him, and was leading him up the ramp before he had a chance to object. All the time she spoke in a commanding tone, telling him she didn't have time for any games, and to consider himself very lucky not to have ended up in the shed like his friends. He hadn't stood a chance.

Claire had barely gotten her boots on before it was all over, but she didn't mind at all. She didn't have the energy and patience for a battle of wills, which invariably occurred when it was the last thing one could cope with.

Horses always knew the best time – or worst, depending on how you wanted to look at it – to put up a fight. Often you only had to show you had all day and were prepared to win at all costs and their
bravado would crumple like a haystack piled too high. Most people just didn't take the time to understand what made them tick.

The girls were silent, enjoying their wine. Claire was too exhausted for chit-chat, Bernadette too deep in thought.

‘Claire?' Bernadette asked after a few minutes.

‘Yeah,' Claire said wearily.

‘What now?'

‘What do you mean, what now? Oh. I've outstayed my welcome, haven't I?'

‘Of course not! Don't be ridiculous – you've only been here twenty-four hours. No, I mean, what now for Paycheque?'

‘Tomorrow I'll turn him out into the paddock and he'll stay there until Dad's well enough to deal with him.'

‘But that could be weeks, maybe months. Meanwhile you'll have to check on him at least every second day. How are you going to do that from the city?'

‘So I
have
worn out my welcome.'

‘No, but you probably will have in a few weeks. Anyway, you're a city chick now, remember? You hate being up here in the sticks for too long. Ringing a bell?'

‘Bloody hell, Bernie. You're the one always saying, “feel it inside, listen to your unconscious, follow your heart, blah blah blah.” And what do I do? Take a step in that direction and instantly I've done the wrong thing…'

‘I'm not saying you've done the wrong thing at all. Paycheque needed saving – Jack needed him saved. But you know there's a lot more to it than that. What the hell are you going to do with him?'

‘I don't know. I need a few days to think things through.'

‘If only you'd done that the first time around,' she muttered. Claire's face fell. ‘Sorry, that wasn't fair.'

‘No, it wasn't. Bernie I feel guilty enough about getting rid of Dad's horses so quickly without you rubbing it in, thank you very much. Anyway, this time it's only Paycheque – it's a totally different situation.'

‘So why
were
you in such a rush to get rid of them?'

‘Dad wouldn't have wanted anyone to be burdened with looking after them.'

‘You could have done it, you're his daughter. I think that's a little different.'

‘How was I going to do it while working and living in the city?'

‘You could have used some of that leave you never took and moved into the farm for a while.'

‘Yeah, and what would I have done all day? I would have been bored out of my brain.'

‘I don't know – maybe chilled out, enjoyed the fresh country air and contemplated life? You could have kept Jack's horses fit. It would have been good for you. Instead you had to bulldoze your way into his life and take charge.'

‘I had to. Jack wouldn't want to be a burden.'

‘So you keep saying – you're starting to sound like a broken record. Anyway he was in a coma, he wouldn't have known. It's time you stopped with the bullshit and admitted the truth.'

‘What do you mean?' Claire sat up.

‘Claire, just bloody admit it – the reason you were so quick to sell his horses was to force him into retirement, regardless of what happened with his health…'