Paycheque (32 page)

And then there was the dinner itself. She'd chosen braised lamb shanks, rice and an assortment of steamed vegetables – a meal she'd cooked countless times. But this time she'd fussed over every detail, paranoid that everything would go wrong.

But why? It was nothing more than a business meeting. Claire rolled her eyes at her reflection, sighed and left the room, ready to answer the door.

She looked out the dining room window in time to see Jack greet Derek with a handshake, and Maddie with a friendly hand to the shoulder and welcoming grin.

As they were being ushered towards the house, Claire did one final
check of the pumpkin soup. She frowned as she stared at the bread rolls warming in the oven. She really hoped Derek had come clean with Maddie and that there wasn't about to be any awkwardness.

At what point should they start discussions? Between soup and main, or before they tucked into their bread and butter pudding dessert? And who should bring it up?
Just go with the flow
, she told herself, but cringed as Jack let their guests in through the laundry. Not that it mattered.
This was a business meeting, not a date
, she reminded herself for about the twentieth time.

Claire turned back from the oven as Jack, Maddie and Derek entered the kitchen, and instinctively wiped her hands on a tea towel. She wondered at the sidelong bemused smirk on Derek's face as he was ushered past her into the open-plan dining-lounge room, until she remembered with a flush of embarrassment she still had one of her mother's frilly green gingham aprons on. She probably looked the epitome of a 1950s housewife.

Halfway into their soup, Jack got right down to business.

‘So, Maddie, tell me what you've been up to at Al Jacobs's place – any newcomers we need to watch out for?'

‘To be honest, Mr McIntyre, there are a couple with some talent, but none that really
want
to win.'

‘We're going to get on just great, I can tell,' Jack said. ‘But please, I've told you before, it's Jack – none of this formal stuff.'

‘Maddie does know why she's here, doesn't she?' Claire asked, fixing a stare on Derek.

‘I've been totally up front; there's nothing Maddie doesn't know about our arrangement.'

‘Which is?' Claire knew she sounded like a school matron but didn't care. If the words were actually spoken with everyone involved present there could be no misunderstandings later.

‘It's all right. I know Dad's paying you to employ me. And I really am grateful. I promise I won't let you down.' Maddie smiled at each person around the table.

‘Well as long as you don't feel like your independence is compromised.' Claire hoped she didn't sound sarcastic, because she certainly wasn't meaning to.

‘Of course it is, but I'm not going to be bitter about it. Yes, I would have liked to go it alone, but in a boys' club such as racing, that doesn't seem possible for me right now.'

Claire was impressed with how grounded Maddie seemed. She really was a credit to her father, she thought, instantly feeling very old.

‘Apparently it is one thing to be strong and independent, but quite another to be petulant and stubborn,' Maddie said, looking pointedly at her father. Claire tried to hide her bemusement. She felt a whole new rush of respect for the kid.

‘Is it okay if I start tomorrow?' Maddie suddenly asked, looking quickly down at her bowl.

‘Okay with me,' Claire said. ‘Dad?'

‘Great.'

‘Why the hurry, Maddie?' Derek asked, staring at his daughter with raised eyebrows.

‘Oh, you know. No time like the present,' Maddie said, flipping a hand before returning to her soup.

Good on you
, Claire thought,
she's left the Jacobs place with a bang, naughty girl
. She looked forward to hearing the full story. But she'd wait. There were some things a father really didn't need to know.

‘Dad, how about you top up our glasses while I serve the main. Maddie, could you collect the plates? You're our slave now, remember,' she said, giving the girl a wink.

The rest of the evening passed in a pleasant haze of conversation, good food and Barossa Valley red. At around ten o'clock, Derek and Maddie bid their farewells with the promise of her returning at eight the next morning – she was allowed a sleep-in for her first day at the McIntyres'.

The next morning, Claire introduced Maddie to Larry and Bell and reintroduced her to Paycheque and Howie. Then she showed her through the feed room. She was relieved Maddie didn't seem at all perturbed to be in such a rustic, ramshackle outfit after the relative luxury of her previous post.

The tour ended in the tack room where, after showing Maddie where everything was kept, they sat down on the bench under the small window opposite the whiteboard. This was a crucial moment: what if their concept sounded like some fantastical pipe dream when explained to an outsider? Or worse, to herself, when she said it out loud? She took a deep breath and stared at the whiteboard, deciding where to start. But Maddie got in first.

‘So, is this what the jumps and bending poles are all about?' Maddie asked.

Claire nodded. ‘At this stage it's really only a plan. It might not even work,' she said, shrugging.

‘Of course it'll work!' Madeline cried. ‘It's great. They get so bored going round and round day after day – not to mention their riders,' she said, rolling her eyes. ‘I was only asking Al the other day if I could take one of the older stayers out over a couple of hunt fences. He wouldn't hear of it, was worried about injury – not to me, the horse…'

‘So you can jump, that's a relief. I forgot to ask your Dad.'

‘Just Pony Club grade three, and I'm a bit out of practice. I haven't done any since I started my apprenticeship.'

‘I was in Pony Club myself about a hundred years ago,' Claire said.

‘I know. You won't remember me, but I was at one of your jumping schools at Barossa Park when I was a kid.'

‘Really? I hope it was useful.'

‘You were great. I was on a real scaredy-cat, a small nutty grey and black appaloosa that everyone at the club told me to get stuck into. I thought you'd say the same, but you didn't. You told me to take him easy and let him learn to trust me.'

‘I think I vaguely remember,' Claire said, wracking her brain. ‘Inky black face and legs – tossed his head and cat-leaped because he'd been ripped in the mouth by a previous rider?'

‘Yep. He had a really tough time before I got him.'

‘How did he turn out?'

‘He won Adelaide Hills Zone Horse of the Year, but a few months later we had a float accident and he had to be put down. Could have won the State title if he'd had the chance.'

Claire could see tears forming in the girl's eyes. ‘I'm sorry, Maddie,' she said, moving to put her arm around her. She was pretty sure Maddie was talking about the accident in which she'd lost her mother.

‘It's okay,' she said, gently shrugging Claire off.

‘So what do you think of our strategy here? Anything else to add?' Claire nodded at the handwritten notes.

‘Well,' Maddie said, recovering her composure, ‘I don't think you can go wrong with building a trusting partnership. And jumping them will develop their hindquarters and strengthen their tendons.' She got excited. ‘Claire, seriously, this is like a dream come true for me. I know it sounds really naff, but I've wanted to see something like this since I first set foot in a racing stable. I reckon most of them are going about it all wrong.'

‘I think having the same person working them and racing them will really help as well,' Claire added.

‘So when can we get started?' Maddie cried, leaping up.

‘Just one other thing.'

‘Yes?'

‘Dad and I want to keep this to ourselves for now – are you okay with that?'

‘Of course. We all had to sign confidentiality agreements at Jacobs's. I can for you too, if you want.'

‘No, your word's good enough for us.'

‘Well you have that. So, who are we going to start with?'

‘Do you have a preference – any one in particular that took your fancy?'

‘What's Larry like?'

‘Bit of a larrikin – hence his name. Staying focussed is his main problem. Has a tendency to throw his head up and look around – anywhere but where he's going. That's why I've got him down for poles on the ground. I figure if he trips over his feet enough he might learn to concentrate.'

‘Good idea. Let's start with him, then.'

Claire was glad she'd had the removalists pack everything and only had to meet them at the cottage. Bernie was right: how hard was it to empty a house? Claire didn't agree with her sentiment that whatever got broken wasn't meant to be in her new life, but it was easier than going back to the townhouse again.

She was nervous as she drove out to the cottage. It was a big step. It was so long since she'd seen it; she hoped she'd still love it as much. It was just after noon when she pulled up on the white gravel turnaround under the stand of tall, lean lemon-scented gums away from the front of the house. The autumn sun struck the car in random streaks and patterns. Claire was early, but still checked her watch and silently urged the removalists to hurry up. They should have finished packing up the townhouse and be on their way by now.

That morning she'd kept herself busy, despite Jack and Maddie trying to insist she take time off. She didn't want to change anything with the horses for fear of jinxing their progress. In just the week since Maddie had come on board the horses had improved markedly.
They had decided to give them a run in the Autumn Carnival at Strathalbyn.

Weary from her morning's exercise and comforted by the warmth of the car, Claire fought the urge to curl up and go to sleep, and instead got out to take a stroll around her new property. She smiled at the purple picket fence with deep green rose foliage and multicoloured blooms poking through. The gate opened with a creak. The lawn either side of the redbrick path had browned off over the summer. She paused.
It might be best just to gravel it over
, she thought, before moving on. She climbed up the three concrete steps to the front verandah and stepped onto the traditional pattern of tessellated tiles in terracotta, cream and coffee, with a hint of black in the border.

The key turned easily in the lock, and she entered the narrow hallway. The timber floor creaked a little underfoot, and even the soft soles of her runners beat loudly and echoed through the empty house. She stopped at the expanse of bookshelves flanking the fireplace. She didn't have many books. It would be nice to get into reading again. A large collection of photos in nice frames would look good up on the top few shelves. She'd have to start taking her camera with her to the farm and get some nice shots of Jack, Maddie and the horses.

She roamed through her house and felt more and more pleased with her purchase as she went. It really was lovely, and now that the clutter of the previous owners had gone, it looked even more spacious that she'd first thought. And Bernie was right about the tub. It looked so inviting. She looked forward to testing it out soon.

Claire was also relieved to see that the rugs and furniture hadn't been hiding evidence of white ants or rising damp. She took a deep whiff. Better to be cold and fresh than stuffy, she decided, and went back through the rooms, opening all the windows wide.

She went out the back and stood on the stone slabs of the back verandah overlooking the few acres that sloped down and away from the house. The grass was browner and the gums bluer, thanks to the harsh South Australian summer, but the setting was still lovely. The
quintessential rural setting – ideal for a tree change. Claire smiled. She was going to love living here.

Sitting on the back verandah with her legs hanging over, Claire unfolded the sheet of paper with her hand-drawn plan of where all her furniture would go. She'd measured and then cut out shapes representing each piece. Then she'd moved them all around until everything had a place. Hopefully all she had to do now was have the removalists follow her plan and all would be well. If only they would hurry up!