Paycheque (30 page)

Jack already had a stack of books, a lined pad and a pen on the table when she arrived. He pushed the pad and pen towards her as soon as she sat down.

‘First, I want you to think about each horse's personality and what that translates to in terms of having fun together as a team.'

‘But I…'

‘No buts or arguments, Claire, just take your time. Think back to when you were a kid, the various partnerships you had and what made them work. For instance, remember Bennie, and how you loved to chase foxes…?'

‘Yeah, the time we ran one down and it was hissing and spitting. Bennie loved it. Remember how he won that endurance ride, sprinting at the end and I'd hardly spent any time getting him fit?'

‘Exactly – it just worked; on another horse that strategy might have been a disaster. So what we want to do here is match a strategy to each horse.'

‘But what do other trainers do? Shouldn't we be reading about horseracing, not thinking about my old Pony Club days?'

‘Claire, we don't give a toss what other trainers do. You've got to be true to yourself, first and foremost. Good and bad horses come and go. When it all boils down, all you have is your soul and self-belief.'

Is everyone thinking like Bernie these days?
Claire wondered.

‘So let's start with Howie. What are his strongest traits?'

‘Okay. Well he's calm and willing, not easily startled, but has a cheeky, feisty side…'

‘So that means…' Jack prompted.

‘Well if he wasn't so big, he'd probably enjoy gymkhana games. I'm too old for that, anyway.'

‘Nonsense. There's nothing to say you have to be good at it. We're just trying to add some variety.'

‘So what do you think makes Larry tick?' Claire asked.

‘Open spaces,' Jack said without hesitation. ‘He's had too many bad experiences cooped up. I've taken him out a couple of evenings for long rides, checking fences when you've been out with Bernadette and David and…'

‘When there's no one around?' Claire gasped.

‘Why, because I'm too old?'

‘No, because…' Claire flushed. ‘No, because if you came off we wouldn't know where you were.'

‘I'll be right, Claire.'

‘Well could you at least leave a note saying which paddock you'll be in?'

‘Okay, if you insist.'

‘I do.'

‘Right. Now Bell, he hates open spaces and being alone – much more suited to the round yard. Be a nice dressage horse or hack if he doesn't make it on the track. And Paycheque, well he needs to learn to focus.'

After an hour, several cups of tea and numerous pages screwed up and flung aside, Claire sat back in the high-backed chair and let her breath out loudly. There in front of them was a plan for each horse
and trainer for the next few weeks. Secretly, Claire wondered how Jack would be able to fulfil the physical demands. He hadn't even thought he could ride at all when he'd come home from hospital. He continued to surprise her every day, but she still wished they had another bum to put in the saddle.

Her father had been running this place single-handed all these years, regularly having as many as six horses in work at a time. With the two of them it should be a lot easier.

The key was to be organised – an area Claire was gifted in. She started making mental notes. If she organised meals ahead of time, measured out all the horses' feeds once a week, put out her clothes the night before… Hell, she'd coped for years with the pressures of an advertising firm full of difficult artistic types. Four horses and her father should be a doddle.

‘Dad, how about I get a big whiteboard to write this up on and put it in the tack room? That way it'll be right there to refer to.'

‘How much are they?'

‘Not much. But don't worry, I'll get it.'

‘Well I was just wondering if we could get one for the feeding schedule as well. I'd like to experiment more with individual feeds. I suspect Howie would benefit from more oats, but giving Larry more will turn him into a lunatic.'

‘Good idea. Two it is, then.'

Claire studied the menu and decided on the asparagus crêpes – she needed something to warm her up. She was halfway through a glass of water when Bernadette arrived at the café.

‘Sorry I'm late,' Bernie said, sitting down and grabbing a menu. Within seconds the waitress had pounced on them, taken their orders and retreated to the kitchen.

‘No worries, I was a bit early, anyway.' Claire poured her friend a glass of water.

‘Have you met someone?' Bernadette said suddenly, staring hard at Claire across the table.

‘Sorry?' Claire was genuinely perplexed. ‘I meet people every day – just saw Jillian Cooper at the post office, Bill Markson at the newsagent…'

‘There's something different about you, but it's not your hair, that's the same… Who is it? It's Derek, isn't it?'

‘What is? Bernadette, have you been inhaling too much glyphosate or something? You're not making sense.'

‘Look at you. You're positively radiant.'

Claire blushed slightly and brought her hand up instinctively to smooth her hair.

‘You've found love, it's the only explanation,' Bernadette said triumphantly, and took a deep slug of water.

‘All right, I confess,' Claire said, laughing and holding up her hands in surrender.

‘I knew it,' Bernadette cried. ‘So, spill – tell me everything.'

‘Well, the first one,' Claire began, noting with amusement the startled expression on her friend's face, ‘has the biggest brown eyes you've ever seen. He's easygoing, gentle yet big and strong.' Claire paused, wondering how much further she should go. Bernadette was leaning across the table hanging on her every word. Just then David appeared. A subtle waft of aftershave stalked him as he kissed Bernadette and then Claire on the cheek.

‘Don't you smell yummy,' Bernadette said.

‘It's “CK Contradiction”. Do you like it?'

‘Lovely,' Claire said, sniffing close to him.

‘Thanks. And how are my two favourite girls today?'

‘Well I'm good,' Bernadette said, ‘but apparently Claire here is in love.' She rolled her eyes.

‘Ah, do tell,' David said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. Claire looked from one to the other, a bubble of laughter rising up in her chest. She felt naughty, but their inquisitive expressions were just too much.

‘Bern, it's Howie – the horse – you moron!'

‘Sorry? I don't follow,' David said, frowning.

‘We've been had, David. Claire's been a deceitful cow.'

‘You're the one who insisted I was in love.'

‘So you're not?' David said, clearly disappointed.

‘No, she's not,' Bernadette snapped.

‘Actually I am – with life,' Claire said in an airy tone, waving her arms around.

‘Oh God, here we go,' Bernadette and David groaned in unison, and then laughed at their synchronicity.

‘Well, clearly nothing juicy here. I'll get back to my boring café, then,' David said, getting up.

‘Thanks a bloody lot Claire,' Bernadette groaned, putting her head on the table. ‘I feel like a complete idiot.'

‘Oh well, you'll get over it. Teach you to jump to conclusions, won't it?'

‘Probably not, but you're right. I'll get over it. Okay, so tell me what's making you so happy?'

‘Well everything. I don't know, it's like life is finally falling into place, making a bit more sense.'

‘So you're on track for the move, is that what you mean?'

‘Yeah, that's all fine, but it's the horses really.'

‘What, finally the McIntyre marvels are showing signs of promise? I didn't know you'd been to another race meeting.'

‘We haven't.'

‘Then what the hell are you talking about? You are
so
not making sense.'

They were interrupted by the delivery of their meals by David's waitress. Claire picked up her cutlery and began to eat. After a few mouthfuls she paused, fork poised mid-air.

‘I never thought it would be so much fun.'

‘What, winning?'

‘No. God, Bernadette, we haven't
won
anything. Not yet, anyway.'

‘And you're okay with that?' Bernadette stared at her friend in disbelief.

‘Not that I have a choice but, actually, yes I am. It's like I kind of get it all now. Dad's right. It's about the journey, not the destination.'

Bernadette shot her friend a doubtful look.

‘What is it you find so hard to believe?'

‘You. This. It's weird.'

‘Haven't you been telling me for years to lighten up and “trust in the cosmos”? Have faith in myself?'

‘Yes, but Claire, now you're actually doing it you're scaring me.' She laughed tightly. ‘You're sounding like a new-ager.'

‘I don't know – I've been trying to put my finger on it.'

‘So, what exactly is it that has you so excited?'

‘Promise not to laugh.'

‘No. I will promise not to laugh
at
you, though.'

‘Okay, I can live with that. Well it's not one particular thing, more a philosophy…' Claire stopped, suddenly it didn't feel right to tell anyone what they were doing. She couldn't understand it – they discussed everything. She could probably count on one hand the number of secrets she'd kept from Bernadette over the years.

‘Ah, I won't bore you with the details. It'd be like you telling me what you feed each individual species at the nursery,' Claire said.

‘Fair enough.'

‘What evil plan are you concocting now?' David said, appearing at the table and sitting down again.

‘I was just about to have another go at convincing Claire to have a housewarming since she's in such a good mood. You can help twist her arm now you're here.'

‘And what is it that has the lovely Claire so chipper?'

‘Well not love, apparently,' Bernadette said, pouting.

‘Just country life in general,' Claire cut in. ‘You know? Clean, fresh air, good food, friends – the usual things.'

‘Claire, you have to have a party. I've got a few recipes I'm dying to
try out. I promise we'll do most of the work, and not leave until the place looks better than it did to start with. Right, Bernie?'

‘Really?' Claire asked with raised eyebrows.

‘Absolutely. Won't we Bernie?' He nudged Bernadette hard.

‘All right, if you say so.'

‘Okay. And I'll have that in writing, thanks, signed by both of you.' Claire reached over and pulled David's order book and pencil from his shirt pocket and slapped them on the table. She read what was being written and then waited silently while both signatures were added.