Paycheque (47 page)

Claire frowned and looked down at the bowl in front of her.

‘Claire, I am not just saying it. Believe in yourself. Take a risk: put your horses in with the best of the best and see where the chips fall. That's all you can do. Sorry, I don't mean to go on.' He laughed, blushed ever so slightly, and picked up his paper again.

‘Thank you, it was a lovely speech.' Claire laughed, leant over and kissed him. ‘And I really do appreciate your faith in me.'

‘You may be new at this training thing, but you're damn good at it.'

And right there Claire McIntyre decided she would do everything in her power to give the horses the chance they deserved. And Jack. The Cup Carnival in Victoria that had always been out of reach was going to be a reality – just being there would be an honour for him. With the fluttering of excited butterflies in her stomach, Claire wondered how Paycheque and Howie would cope with the atmosphere, people, noise. How would she? She was nervous just thinking about it.

‘One step at a time,' she muttered. ‘Nominate and then qualify.'

‘That's my girl,' Derek said, leaning over and giving her a kiss. ‘Though you'll have to beat my Humble first,' he said, leaping up and ducking just in time to avoid being hit in the head with the paper.

‘You're on,' Claire said, gritting her teeth with determination.

Claire was at the café early. Neither Bernadette nor David were anywhere in sight. She grabbed an old copy of
New Idea
on the way to their usual table. Bernadette had never been very punctual, but was becoming less so the closer she got to the wedding date.

She and David had decided to wait until after the Melbourne Cup to get married, but were discussing having a pre-wedding honeymoon in Melbourne during the Carnival. Claire really hoped they would – she'd need Bernie on hand to keep her grounded.

But where would they stay? She, Derek, Maddie and Jack had arranged to put a borrowed caravan at the Fitzpatrick farm where the horses would be. Not exactly the glamour the Carnival was renowned for, and a far cry from a five-star hotel and a corporate box. Claire felt a clenching in her stomach, the flutter of nerves. She'd been getting it almost hourly since Saturday's race at Morphettville – Howie had qualified for the Underwood Stakes.

Unfortunately, Paycheque had missed out, only picking up a fourth and a sixth for the day. They were outstanding results, given his catastrophic injury of only a few short months ago, but still she'd hoped for more. If he'd qualified, she'd be able to get that worry off her mind. She couldn't believe Jack was so matter-of-fact about it; for him it was the culmination of a lifetime's work. Claire was more nervous than excited; so much could go wrong.

‘So sorry I'm late,' said Bernadette, plonking herself onto her usual chair and dumping her handbag on the floor. She tried to push some unruly tendrils from her flushed damp face but they bounced back.

‘What's going on?'

‘Oh you know, the usual stuff. Delivered half a truckload of cow poo to Tom Barnett but he reckons he ordered sheep poo,' she said, flapping a hand. ‘So I'm in the shit – well he is.' She grinned, rolling her eyes.

‘So, what are you going to do?'

‘He'll just have to get over it – Darren's got the paperwork clearly stating cow. End of story. So, what are we eating?' She turned around to consult the handwritten menu board behind them.

Claire stared in wonder at her friend. No matter what went wrong at the nursery, Bernadette sorted it with ease, yet the tiniest problem with the upcoming nuptials sent her over the edge.

She'd phoned the other night in tears because the Golf Club was already booked the night they wanted to hold their reception. She'd been nearly hysterical until Claire had recited back her own philosophy to her, saying it clearly wasn't meant to be and that there'd be somewhere much nicer available. Bernie had wailed that she'd wanted photos by the lovely big gum tree out front, and Claire had calmly pointed out that the land was a public reserve and she didn't need Golf Club permission to have her photos there.

Finally, Bernadette had let out a big sigh. ‘I don't know what is wrong with me. This wedding is doing my head in.'

‘They do that,' Claire had replied, thinking back to some of the ordeals she'd faced all those years ago. It was like some kind of test, a baptism of fire.

Derek had been married before, so he was unlikely to want a big wedding –
if
they decided to get married. Not that she and Derek had even discussed it. Nonetheless, she could picture a simple exchange of rings under the weeping willow out behind her cottage and a few select guests sipping champagne. Claire revelled in her daydream for a few moments before snapping her attention back to the menu.

‘You're a little calmer than the other night – got the wedding under control then?' she ventured.

‘Wedding! I don't know what I was thinking. I've never been so stressed in my life.'

Claire offered a sympathetic expression. ‘You can change your mind, it's probably not too late.'

‘That's the thing. I know it'll be fabulous on the day. I just want it to be easier.'

‘They don't call it the biggest day of your life for nothing.'

‘Enough of my whingeing. How are my boys? Sorry I couldn't make it on Saturday – how did they go?'

‘Howie qualified for the Underwood Stakes.'

‘Wow, that's fantastic. Shit! That means he won sixty grand – drinks are on you, then.'

‘Yeah, well, it sounds a lot but it isn't even enough to clear the farm's overdraft. I still can't get over how much money is tied up in the game.'

David appeared beside them holding two effervescing glasses of champagne. ‘Here you are girls,' he said, putting them down. ‘On the house.'

‘What are we celebrating?' Claire asked, looking from David to Bernadette.
Don't tell me you're pregnant
, she thought – though that might explain a few things.

David shrugged. ‘Life, future happiness, Paycheque's return to health – take your pick,' he said, and laughed.

‘Thanks. Care to join us?' Claire asked.

‘Can't. Sorry.'

‘He's so sweet,' Claire said, picking up her glass.

‘Isn't he just the best?' Bernadette said, staring after her fiancé all doe-eyed.

‘So, what are we drinking to?' Claire asked, breaking the spell.

‘I don't know.'

‘Okay, what about the good life? About sums it up.'

They clinked glasses and toasted, ‘The good life'.

Claire took a deep, savouring sip of champagne as they waited for their chicken and avocado crêpes. She really did feel life was perfect. Except for one niggling issue. It had been bothering her since she and Derek started spending so much time together.

‘Bernie, I need your opinion on something.'

‘Yes darling, anything. Madam Bernadette awaits you.'

Claire hesitated, looked away.

‘Sorry, I was being silly. Seriously, what's up?'

‘Well, do you and David… Do you ever get competitive?'

‘In the bedroom?'

‘No, life. Like earning more money, businesses doing better – that sort of thing?'

‘Oh, he earns a tonne more money than me. I don't care. This place takes a lot more effort than my little patch,' Bernadette said, waving an arm around.

‘But does it ever bother you? Like when he has heaps of customers and your business is quiet?'

‘No, we're in two completely different industries – there is no competition. Ahh, I get it. You're worried about you and Derek both being in horseracing.'

‘Exactly.'

‘Well for one thing, Claire, you're a highly competitive person – which I'm not – so you can't compare you and Derek to David and me.'

‘But you want to do well.'

‘I'm determined, passionate and strong-willed, but if I'm competitive, it's only with myself. If you compete with someone else then essentially someone has to win and someone has to lose.'

‘I hadn't thought of it like that. So what do I do?'

‘About what, exactly?'

‘I'm worried it means our relationship can't work long-term.'

‘Why not? You adore each other!'

‘I know, but I've kind of stopped telling him what I'm up to with the horses and I think he's noticing.'

‘Claire, you can't compete with someone who isn't in the same race.'

‘We might both have horses in the Caulfield yet, fingers crossed.'

‘You're missing my point. You're a trainer, he's an owner – you can't compete directly.'

‘But I'll want my horse to win, which – as you pointed out – will be at the expense of his. That's competition.'

‘I don't think you've been truly tested. If your horse beat his I think you'd be genuinely disappointed for him.'

‘Of course I would.'

‘Oh God, I don't know.' Bernadette laughed, gave a shrug and downed the dregs in her glass. ‘Talk to Derek, that's the best I can offer.'

Their meals arrived while Claire was still trying to sort out what Bernadette had said, and decide whether her advice was worth heeding.

‘Eat while it's hot, Claire, and forget I said anything at all. My head's all over the place at the moment,' she said, waving her fork.

As she picked up her own fork, Claire couldn't help wondering if indeed Bernadette had been on to something. One thing that made sense was to talk it over with Derek. She felt a little guilty; not so long ago she'd promised him she could talk to him about anything, and would, no matter how difficult.

Claire was pleased Derek was at the cottage when she got home – she really wanted to get this off her chest. She made them a cup of tea and asked him to sit down. He looked worried, which made her feel terrible. She pushed on.

‘Oh, you silly thing. Is that all?' he asked with obvious relief when she'd finally lowered her silencing hand indicating he was free to speak. ‘You're worried we're too competitive?'

She was annoyed with herself for building it up into such a drama.

‘Your drive and determination are what I love most about you. Just don't ever say, “nah nah, beat you,” or else I shall have to spank your pretty little arse.'

‘Promises, promises.' She laughed.

He playfully tried to grab her behind. She squirmed and wriggled, pretending to resist, but was pinned down on the couch beneath him, her body already tingling in anticipation.

Three months later
.

‘Oh Derek, it's so exciting just to be here,' Claire said, clapping her hands before accepting a cup of tea from him.

‘Yes, truly five-star,' Derek deadpanned, looking around him.

She slapped at his arm. ‘Not
here
, silly, Melbourne. The Cup Carnival. I just can't believe we're actually taking part.'