Race Girl (7 page)

Tully sighed and shoved the certificate into her backpack. She smiled quickly at her teachers, then parted ways with Tam and threaded her headphones in, letting Taylor wash over her as she hurried to work.

★

‘Diamond Someday's having a beautiful run,' said the race caller as Tully rushed through the kitchen the next morning, into the back sleep out to get ready for the dawning day – the first official day of summer. She had collected a surprise haul of
four
eggs from the old hens in the last few days, and hoped making a surprise omelet for them would help improve her father's mood. He had been in bed when she got home from work last night, and she was relieved to hear he was up this morning, in front of the telly by the sounds of it. She was ready to talk business.

Tully slipped on her Blundstones and walked lightly across the worn, uneven floorboards, down the hallway, her eyes taking a minute to adjust to the dark lounge room in the middle of the house. Her father was slumped in his chair, a bottle in his hand, watching recorded footage of Diva's last win with him as trainer, at Toowoomba's historic Weetwood meet over a year ago. Tully knew from checking the Racing Queensland website on her phone earlier that Diva would be racing for Weston for the first time at Doomben today. She'd expected to see her father tuned into the racing channel to see Diva run, and that would've only been
after
he'd overseen the morning feed, checked the horses and let Grace know who to ride out and in what manner. They did still have Rosie to get ready for the Beaudesert races next Saturday.
I guess he's skipping work again this morning,
she thought, a fist of dread tightening in the pit of her stomach. Her father sunk lower in his chair, taking a swig from his bottle.

Tully let out a quick breath, shoving her hands into the pockets of her shorts. She forced herself forward, gritting her teeth against the anger – she needed to
help
him, not yell at him. It was now or never. ‘We need to get this place cleaned up, Dad,' she said gently, kneeling down beside him and slipping the bottle from his hands, setting it carefully on the coffee table.

His eyes didn't leave the screen of the TV, but he did lift a hand, running it over the salt and pepper stubble on his face.

‘We've got empty paddocks and people are always looking for agistment. I know you haven't wanted outside horses here, but now . . .' Tully swallowed and took a breath to steady her nerves before continuing, ‘Now that things have changed—'

Gerald shook his head dismissively, but Tully kept going.

‘Yes, Dad, things
have
changed, and we need to change with them.'

‘Not as easy as that, Tully.'

‘I know it isn't
easy
, Dad, but we have to try. The extra money would really help to pay the bills, and hopefully catch up on the mortgage so Weston can't buy us out, right? We just need to get a few more paddocks fixed up, then we'll be right. Tam was talking to Judy about it, and she—'

Gerald shifted in his seat, sitting up a little straighter. ‘Don't go talking about our problems with kids from school; we don't need anyone's sympathy!'

‘Tam isn't just
some kid
from school, Dad—c'mon, you know that! She's my best friend, she's always been my best friend. You know how Mum . . .' Tully stopped herself, knowing she'd gone too far. ‘Dad—sorry, okay, I won't talk to anyone, just let me fix the paddocks up. Please?'

‘Fixing fences costs money.'

‘Bucko mentioned he has a mate at the hardware. And I'm happy to do the work.'

‘Fencing isn't easy work.'

‘I've fixed a fence before!'

Gerald sighed and retrieved his bottle from the coffee table. Tully pushed on.

‘I'm sure Bucko and Grace will help. I just need Cameron's number, so I can ring him and see if he has any horses that need spelling.'

‘We are
not
getting Cameron Bloody Macintosh's horses in here!' her father exploded, standing up and wagging a finger at her.

Tully's eyes went wide and she took a step back, before stammering, ‘But why not? Mum always spoke very highly of him, and he's got a lot of horses going on the Gold Coast now.'

Gerald shook his head firmly, his face tightening and turning red with what Tully guessed was rage. ‘You're not gonna bloody drop this, are ya?' he said.

She wanted to shy away, but instead squared her shoulders. ‘I'm not just gonna give up on Avalon.'

Gerald turned to face her, studying her face. His eyes were squinty and streaked with red lines, with pain that made Tully flinch. ‘You're just like her, you know that?'

Tully's heart throbbed, her father's words stinging more than she was sure they should have, and she wasn't sure why. She
wanted
to have her mum's guts, her courage. But it was also her mother's bravery that had taken her away from Tully. From her family. At that moment, Tully wished her mother had been weaker, like she feared she herself was.

‘Fine,' her father said, sitting back down, his fingers pressed to his temples. ‘But we aren't dealing with Cameron, no way in heck. Call Barnsey, I heard he was over capacity at Gulherin and looking for a new facility to spell a few.'

Tully swallowed back tears, crossing her arms across her chest. ‘Curtis Barnes, the trainer based at Ipswich?'

‘His number's in the book in the kitchen.'

‘Okay.' Tully watched the TV for a few moments, chewing her lip and thinking about her mum. ‘Thanks, Dad,' she said, wiping her palms on her shorts before heading for the kitchen.

Curtis Barnes answered his mobile on the last ring. He sounded delighted to hear from Tully, but when he told her he'd already found a facility not far from Avalon, her heart plummeted. But he kept chatting, asking her about the farm and her father – all questions she answered with what she hoped would be reassuring ‘fines,' and ‘greats'. Tully geared herself up to be disappointed, but was surprised when Curtis Barnes cleared his throat. ‘But we'll go with you, Tulls,' he said. 'As long as you can have five paddocks ready for me by the end of the week.'

‘Um, are you sure, Mr. Barnes?'

He chuckled. ‘Only if you are. Youse'll be right to feed and rug for me, morning and night?'

‘Of course, sir, of course we will! Thank you so
much
!'

‘Always happy to help out an Athens,' he said, then paused. ‘Get after him, Clarky!' he yelled away from the phone.

Tully vibrated on the spot, hopping up from the chair and dancing from foot to foot. She couldn't wait to tell Grace and Bucko and Tam – their plan had worked.

‘See you Friday, Tully.'

‘You're on, Mr. Barnes!' Tully placed their home phone into the receiver, then marched through into the lounge room. ‘All sweet with Mr. Barnes,' she said. ‘We didn't talk dollars, but you can sort that with him on Friday, okay?'

Gerald pursed his lips, then nodded.

‘Have you entered Rosie for Saturday yet, Dad?'

He sighed heavily, slipping his cap back onto his head. ‘Not
unless Bucko has.'

‘Well, you guys better get onto it—there should still be time to get an entry in. We need the money, Dad, and you need to get back out there.' Tully didn't mention that she also wanted him out of the house so she could get back on Greg.

She was too excited for breakfast. Bucko met her on the verandah in his riding gear, his eyes light with surprise. ‘Tull,' he said. ‘Everything okay?'

‘Better than a long time,' she said with a nod. ‘Dad's taking Rosie to Beaudesert on Saturday.'

‘Great plan.' He nodded, looking past Tully, assessing her father. Gerald rose from his chair, straightened his hat on his head and tucked in his shirt.

Tully's face broke into a grin and she hurried down the steps to see Greg and Grace and tell them of the new plans.

Tully got stuck straight in, starting with the farthest paddock in the row. The summer sun burned her arms as she pulled all the rotten rails down, heaping them in a pile off to the side of the paddock so she could pull all the nails out. She only paused to have a quick vegemite sandwich for afternoon tea under one of the jacarandas, watching Bucko breeze Rosie around the track for her light session. Then it was straight back into it and by sunset she was drenched in sweat, her head pounding from dehydration and her hands bleeding from cuts and blisters. It'd all been worth it, though – she'd managed to pull every drooping, termite, white-ant or horse-eaten rail off the square paddock, ready to straighten the posts and fit the new rails Bucko had picked up that afternoon. He'd even managed to get some new roof sheets, second hand but free from holes or rust, to fix the roofs of the shelters. Grace pulled all the rusted nails from the boards, nearly filling a ten-litre pail.

Grace got Hawaiian pizzas for dinner, then Tully had a quick, freezing shower before falling into bed. She was hoping for a solid restful sleep so she could get even more done the next day, but woke in a cold sweat, her head pounding and eyes frantically searching the dark for Brandon and Greg. The wonderful, vivid dream of Brandon riding his grey along the road and of her and Greg chasing them had taken a terrifying turn when she lost control and crashed into the fence . . .

Tully got up to change the Band Aids on her blisters and get a drink of water. Her phone read 1.05am. She lay back on her bed, hugging Bear, but sleep wasn't coming anytime soon. Her eyes stayed open until the rooster started up down at the stables and her alarm followed at 3.30am – two hours earlier than she got up during school term, but the same time as everyone else on the farm.

She crawled out of bed, nearly stepping on a plump mouse eating the end out of a muesli bar she must have dropped on her floor the night before. The mouse scurried into a crack in the VJ, too fast to catch. Tully chucked the muesli bar in the kitchen bin, before returning to pull on her shorts and polo shirt, determined to get stuck into work and get her mind off the nightmare still lingering. She fed up the horses, then worked on the fences through a peaceful lavender sunrise, into the day's heat. By the time Tully stumbled inside for some baked beans on toast for dinner and early bed, she, Grace and Bucko had fixed four of the paddocks and had already started painting one.

Monday was Tully's first day shift at work, but she managed to get straight home afterwards with Grace's help and get stuck into fixing the fifth paddock as promised, ready to take Mr. Barnes's horses by the end of the week. They even had a few spare paddocks, including the ones recently vacated by Gally and Diva.

Tully was up before her alarm on Tuesday, hoping for a quick ride on Greg before work as her father and Bucko were taking Rosie in for fast gallops at the track in town.

Tully ducked into Greg's stall after tipping his feed into his bucket, then snuck around, listening to him chewing peacefully as she felt each of his legs. He was a bit cow-hocked in the back, so that never worried her. But her heart froze when she got to his off-hind leg. There was definite heat and swelling in the suspensory ligament, and he was resting it, obviously sore.
No!
Tully thought desperately, feeling his leg again and again, the heat beneath his skin sending needles into her heart.

7

Another Hit

I've done this to him.

The thought ricocheted like a bullet inside Tully's brain.

I've hurt him.

Tully ran for the tack room to grab the poultice and leg wraps. ‘I'm so sorry, mate,' she said soothingly as she smoothed the cool, clay-like substance onto all four of Greg's legs, then wrapped them up snugly. It was unusual for an injury like this to take so long to come up, but the reality was that their ride was the most strenuous activity he'd done in a long time. She would tell anyone who noticed that the wrapping was mainly precautionary, as he'd tweaked his leg in the paddock. Tully prayed it wasn't torn again – after the last time it'd taken her and her mum more than ten months to get Greg ready for riding, with eight months of total stall rest and two more of re-training. A lame horse was always on her father's radar, and now there was no money to feed and keep an expensive ex-racehorse. Greg had already been given way more chances than most.