Race Girl (14 page)

It sounded ridiculous.

Tully was utterly relieved when she waved goodbye to Judy and Tam, standing on her front verandah in the beams of their headlights later that night. She prayed they'd listen to her plea as she watched them back out and turn around, head back down her driveway – they'd sworn not to say anything about any of it to anyone. Although tonight she might be too tired to care.

The next morning, however, as Tully woke to the realisation of what had transpired the day before, she certainly had the energy to care. And worry.

She found the business card with Brandon's number in the pocket of Tam's old jeans that she'd borrowed, now lying in a heap on her floor. Tully stared at the blue scrawl for some time before her alarm went off again and she remembered she hadn't seen Dahlia or Greg – or Frangi or Bear for that matter – since she'd been away from her farm.
She cursed herself for being distracted from what really mattered, jumping out of bed and shoving the business card under her school laptop on her desk, laden with a heavy film of dust. She threw on some clothes and, suddenly ravenous, found some food to eat, as she hadn't been able to stomach anything after seeing Brandon yesterday afternoon.

Dahlia greeted her with a whinny when she got down to the stables, right on sunrise. Grace waved from the far end of the row of stalls, dumping Rosie's morning feed into her bucket as the filly had been worked and hosed down early. Tully raced to the feed room to mix feeds for her two, plus Greg, breathing in the thick scent of lucerne and oats and horse. She was deep in thought about how it would feel to ride Dahlia, standing with her arms slung over her filly's stall door and listening to her chewing her breakfast, when a voice sounded behind her.

‘So what's your plan for her, then?'

‘Geez!' Tully gasped, spinning around, a hand on her heart. ‘Dad! You scared the crap out of me.'

Her father stood a distance back, arms crossed, sunnies on and ball cap pulled down low on his forehead. His blue work shorts and shirt hung loose from his frame and there was at least a week's stubble on his face. Tully knew that his once radiant blue eyes, the same colour as her own, would be bloodshot and squinting behind the camouflaging lenses of his sunnies. She took a slow breath. ‘Well,' she said, looking to her filly. ‘The vet's due back after Christmas to check on her progress. Looks like she's filling out already, and the feed and the grooming and supplements are doing her a world of good. Her eyes are so clear and sharp, Dad, she really is something special. Bucko thinks her legs are as strong as steel, and I know she's got a big heart. I saw her spirit in the way she wouldn't let that horrible place, or that horrible man, break her. It won't take long to build her muscle and get her in shape. She's gonna be
something
.'

Gerald sighed, pushed his hands into his pockets. Tully's heart rate accelerated and she kept her eyes on Dahlia, afraid that with a word from her father, in an instant, she could just disappear. There was no way she could lose Dahlia a second time.

Tully sensed her father step forward. He rested a hand on her shoulder and for a moment she froze, not sure where to look or what to do. Then he cleared his throat as if to say something, and was gone just as quickly as he'd appeared.

Whoa,
Tully thought, glancing back. Her father's frame disappeared into the office, the door slamming shut behind him.

Tully's heart soared, a new wave of hope crashing through her. ‘He's comin' 'round, Dahls,' she said, reaching forward to stroke her filly's soft, shining forelock. ‘It won't be long until we hit the track.'

Tully prayed she wouldn't let her filly down.

★

Tully had too much time to think as she waited for her lift after work on Monday, even though she couldn't wait to get home and meet the new horses that should have been dropped off that morning. She'd again found herself expecting Brandon to turn up at the drive through in his flash white ute, and wondered if he'd think it rude that she hadn't called.
Should I call him?
She stared out at the expanse of the paddock and the glowing, setting sun.
What would I even say?!

Tully was sure she'd have twenty or so missed calls and messages from Tam waiting on her mobile. She didn't even want to look. There was too much to think about and focus on in her life without
some boy
mucking things up worse, especially when she was – she hoped – gaining her father's respect and trust and acceptance of Dahlia.
There's too much to lose . . .
She'd heard her father on the phone to the bank and their accountant several times over the last week and knew their situation was still dire, even with the prospect of the new agisters and some winnings from Rosie. Tully needed to get on the track and get her dad back on his game or Weston would get their farm.
Brandon will get our farm—what's he even doing talking to me?!
She thought, the anger raging inside her once more.
Does he even know his dad's trying to buy us out?

She couldn't call him.
And she told herself not to be sad about that.
That's life.

Grace got to Macca's just on nightfall, then sped to Crazy Clarke's so they could stock up on Christmas gear. They had needed a new Christmas tree for the last few years as every year a limb had been bent, broken or lost in the process of Tully's mum shoving their old tree back into its box. Tully had looked at the cardboard box marked ‘Chrissie' on the top of the pile in the spare room, but she couldn't bring herself to open it. There were too many memories in there, of happy Christmases past. She didn't want to upset her father, either, especially when he finally seemed to be emerging from the darkness, fighting back to life. A fresh start for Christmas – she hoped it would help them all.

Tully bought a fake tree and a set of decorations with little angels, bells and ribbons in silver and gold, along with a pack of red and green tinsel and some fairy lights for the front verandah. Grace had already ordered a turkey from the butcher in the main street. It was set to be an Avalon Christmas with some new fans going flat out, a feast that Tully hoped would be busy and cheerful enough to distract them all from the gaping absence at their table.

Tully was putting the golden angel on the top of the tree the next night after work when Bear hopped up from his spot curled at her feet, scampering and barking at the door. Her Dad's working cattle dogs were going nuts, too – in their kennels beside the house.

Bear barked and whined, glancing back at Tully with concerned eyes. ‘Who is it, fella?' she said, placing the angel carefully on the highest branch of the tree, leaning back to make sure it was straight, before heading for the door. The back of a woman was visible through the screen door. A beaming face greeted Tully as she pushed it open.

‘Tully!' the woman cried, scooping her up in a musky-fragranced hug and spinning her around in the dull verandah light. Tully stood back, taking in the women's short, shocking red hair, big sunnies pushed up on her head and billowing floral dress. A mobile was ringing loudly in her huge Louis Vuitton handbag.

‘Hello,
gorgeous!
' The woman said to Tully as she fished her mobile out of her bag with one hand, silenced it. ‘I'm
so
sorry it's been so long . . .' Her eyes swept over Tully and she took a deep breath, one hand flinging to her large round chest, her sharp green eyes hazing over, glistening with tears. ‘Good Lord, you look like her.' The woman took a moment, then gave Tully another fiercely tight hug, before asking, ‘Did your mum ever tell you that she had a sister?'

Tully found herself taking a step back into the house.

The woman took a deep breath, then nodded curtly. ‘Well, I'm Fia,' she said, grasping Tully's hand. ‘I'm your aunt, darling, and I've stayed away far too long.'

13

Angel of Good, or Evil?

‘What the hell are
you
doing here, Francesca?' Gerald stalked into the lounge room from the kitchen, his silver hair shining in the dim light, eyes narrowed to daggers and set in dark rings of exhaustion.

‘It's Fia now,' the woman said, leading Tully into the house. ‘Wanted to make it without you sending me ill wishes.'

Tully let go of the woman's hand and stepped to the side, pleading with her eyes to her father. Her whole body had dropped with the weight of confusion and dread.
What the heck is going on?!

‘You stole the money she'd been saving to get to Melbourne, and you left.' Gerald sat down heavily in his chair, his hands clearly shaking. He pressed his fingers to his temples. ‘The week after your father died. You left her here, pregnant and heart broken. Now, fifteen years later, you have the nerve to show your face!'

‘We were saving the money
together
, Gerald,' the woman said, taking a seat in the rickety chair in the far corner, across from him. ‘And I fully intended to return it, with interest. I just needed some time.'

Gerald groaned, sunk lower in his chair. ‘This is the last thing I need right now, Francesca!' he boomed, raising his hands to heaven.

‘She wasn't getting out of here, Gerald, and you know it. I tried to pay her back. I tried twice, just a few years later. She wouldn't have it—damn Athens pride.'

‘Not a trait you share,' Gerald scoffed. ‘But then, you're always been a survivor, haven't you? You changed your name, moved to Melbourne, gained a lot of weight by the sights of it and sank your teeth into the best trainer in the business, to claw your way to the top. '

The woman laughed heartily. ‘Always were one for nailing it on the head, you were. And not afraid to say what you thought, either,' she said. ‘It didn't happen exactly in that order, but yes, I made the money and forged a career, and my little sister never spoke to me again. I didn't change my name until
after
you all refused to speak to me, or even allowed me to come back and meet the baby. Cruel. But I'm not here to reminisce,' she said, setting her bag on the floor. ‘I've brought the money back, with a considerable amount of interest. From what I hear, you are in need of it.' She smiled at his look of surprise. ‘Yes, I do listen to what's happening round the traps now and then. But more importantly, it's time I met my gorgeous niece. Don't let her grow up with no one, Gerald, certainly not on account of mistakes we all made well before her time.'

Gerald stared into space for what felt to Tully like an hour or more, before turning to the woman and rising from his chair. He shoved his hands into his pockets, glaring down on her, before shaking his head and heading for the kitchen. He stopped when he reached the doorway, rested against the frame for support, turning back to her. ‘Thank you for returning the money,' he said. ‘Interest won't be necessary. Dahlia would never have accepted it, or wanted it. In terms of my daughter, she is sixteen, or near as makes no difference. I've vowed to let her make her own decisions from now on, and no matter how badly I'd like to take that back at this moment, I would like to remain a man of my word.'

Tully's legs went wobbly, her head spinning around the room.
I have an aunt?!
She thought, her eyes creeping across to the woman in the corner.
Mum had a sister? And she's in the business?!

The woman's words,
‘She wasn't getting out of here . . .'
flashed into Tully's mind, sending her thoughts reeling. I'm
the reason Mum never got to race the Melbourne Cup!

Because she got pregnant with me!

A immense wave of guilt and shame and sadness for her mother's lost dreams swamped Tully as she fought the burning, sick taste rising into her mouth and tears tickled at her throat. She crossed the room to be next to her father.

‘Tully can decide if she wants to get to know you, Francesca,' he said, then he turned to Tully and her heart leapt as he stared weakly into her eyes, tears cutting trails down his stubbly cheeks. ‘I'm sorry your mother's gone, Tully. I didn't want it to be like this; it isn't fair to you and I know I'm no help.' He rested a hand on her shoulder, then dropped his head and retreated to his room.