Paycheque (24 page)

Back in the house, after packing the ute with tack and feed for the next day, Claire marvelled at how similar and yet how different it felt to the old days when she was competing in Pony Club. She was
experiencing a few pangs of apprehension, but nothing like the fear of failure that used to stop her eating for most of the twenty-four hours before an event. And she certainly wouldn't miss the diarrhoea when she woke up, and the urge to vomit that always lasted until she went through the start flags for the cross country.

She lowered herself onto the lounge, savouring the first long slug of a large sherry.

‘Ready for your first big race day?' Jack asked, sitting in the armchair with a beer in hand.

‘Dad, it's not my first race day.'

‘It is as a trainer.'

‘Officially, I'm just your sidekick. I'm not actually qualified, remember?'

‘Yes you are.'

‘Dad, that's really sweet, but we both know officially I'm just your daughter who helps out.'

‘Not any more.' He reached down beside his chair and handed her a piece of paper, beaming.

Claire took the paper with a perplexed frown. ‘What's this?'

‘Your very own trainer's licence.'

‘What? How? Oh Dad, I don't know what to say.'

‘Thanks will do, and how about a big hug for your old man?'

Claire jumped up. ‘Thank you.' They hugged tightly. Her eyes prickled with tears. ‘But how? Don't I need to be examined or something?'

‘Well a friend in the know called and said he'd heard the rules were changing. Soon all newcomers will have to do the course, regardless of family connections. Thought we'd better get in first.'

Claire stood in front of Howie and Paycheque's stalls while Bernadette went in search of a hot caffeine fix. Claire said she wanted to keep the horses company while they settled in, but really it was just to make sure Paycheque didn't try to have a go at passers-by. It was as though he chose to rile people just because he could.

Today the horse seemed relatively relaxed, which was amazing given his last race day experience. He had his head over the gate and was snoozing in the sun like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

There was a gentle nudge to her shoulder, and Claire half turned as Howie nuzzled under her arm, trying to get his nose in her pocket.

‘Sorry. Nothing for you, spoilt monster,' she laughed, turning out her pockets as proof. She rubbed the horse on his wide forehead and ruffled his forelock. Howie closed his eyes, long lashes fluttering.

‘How about I give you a brush,' Claire said, deciding she needed to stop looking like a bouncer outside a nightclub. She grabbed a brush from the box on the ground, opened the gate and entered the bulky
chestnut's stall. He stepped aside to let her past. She undid the straps of his rug and folded it back onto itself. The horse let out a deep sigh as she settled into the rhythm of long strokes along his sleek coat.

Suddenly there was a shout from outside the stall. ‘Oi! Bloody menace!'

Claire's heart flip-flopped as Howie snapped to attention, nearly planting a hoof on her foot. In two strides she was at the gate and had to put her hand to her mouth to quell the rising laughter.

Paycheque had something in his teeth and Todd Newman was standing, beetrootred, trying tug-of-war style to retrieve it. ‘Give it back,' the man growled. Claire stayed hidden in the shaded stall, peering out from beside Howie.

At that moment, Bernadette arrived carrying two takeaway cups. ‘What do you think you're doing to that horse?' she demanded.

Todd let go of the book and turned to Bernie. ‘Bloody menace bit me. I'll sue, I will.'

Paycheque disappeared into his stall.

‘I'll give you the details of my insurer, after you've shown me the damage. Hang on a sec. I've got a camera on my phone.'

‘Well there's no mark as such,' he stammered, peering down at his chest.

‘Looks like you've been slobbered on, not bitten. Sort of goes with the territory though, wouldn't you say? I'm happy to pay for the dry-cleaning…'

‘Just make the damn horse give my form guide back. It's in his mouth.'

‘Ooh really? What a clever boy.'

Claire nearly erupted as she watched.

‘Just go in and get my bloody book will you!'

‘No thanks. Maybe if we ask nicely. Paycheque? Do you have the nice man's book?' There was a shuffle and Claire saw Paycheque's head reappear in the doorway.

‘Doesn't look to me like he's got anything.'

‘Well he took it from my pocket. He must have dropped it in the stall.'

‘You're welcome to go in and check,' Bernadette offered with a shrug.

‘He's bloody dangerous.'

Bernadette shrugged again, put the second cup down, and made a show of engrossing herself in removing the lid from her coffee.

‘It's my bloody form guide – I need it.'

‘Here's two dollars – buy another one,' Bernadette said, fishing a two-dollar coin from her pocket. They're selling them over by the gate.'

Claire cringed. She really should warn Bernadette who she was messing with.

‘Not today's form guide you stupid woman. Anyway, what would you know about form?'

‘Diddly-squat apparently, because I happen to think those horses you wrote off are destined for great things.'

Shit, she does know who he is
, Claire thought, torn between wanting to cheer her friend on and slapping her to shut her up. She started to gather her wits in preparation for her entry into the firing line.

‘You're right about one thing: you know absolutely fuck all about form. Keep the book, you clearly need it.' He let out a cynical laugh and strode off.

Claire breathed a sigh of relief and emerged from Howie's stable.

‘Ah, that's where you were hiding. Did you hear that smug bastard?'

‘What did you have to antagonise him for?'

‘Someone's got to defend those who don't have a voice of their own. Bastard deserves to be brought down a peg or two.'

‘No, all you did was set us up for further failure,' Claire groaned.

‘Lighten up, you're giving him way too much power.' Bernadette sat heavily on an upturned bucket and handed the second cup to Claire.

‘I just so badly want to beat him.' Claire sighed and plonked herself on another bucket.

‘I know. And you will.
Many forms can winning take. Many forms
.'

‘Thanks Yoda, but I prefer the old-fashioned way: first past the post.'

‘Patience, my dear, patience.'

They were startled when there was a slap and a small booklet appeared on the ground between them. They laughed.

‘Had your fun, hey? Cheeky boy,' Bernadette said, reaching up and poking the lips that hung over the door.

‘Careful,' Claire warned.

‘What? I think he's been significantly cheered by his little victory. He looks like he's ready to take on the world.'

‘No, I think he just wants your coffee.'

‘Well you can't have it. Auntie Bernadette needs her caffeine fix – she got up way too early.'

Claire checked her watch. ‘Shit, I've gotta have Howie ready in an hour. Where's that bloody jockey, anyway?' She drained her lukewarm coffee and got up. ‘I'm going to look for him.'

‘What can I do?'

‘Make sure his lordship here doesn't pick anyone else's pocket. Since you're feeling so game you can brush him if you like.'

When Claire returned – the jockey still nowhere to be seen – she found a small, lean, twenty-something girl in jodhpurs and a loose green knitted jumper leaning on Paycheque's gate. Paycheque seemed to be lapping up the attention – there was not a twisted nostril or flattened ear in sight. The girl stepped aside and Bernadette emerged from the stall with the brush in her hand.

Claire was about to continue on her way when Bernadette turned and spoke to someone out of sight.
Don't tell me David's here as well
, she groaned inwardly, instantly annoyed with her childishness.

As she rounded the corner the person Bernadette was talking to came into view. Claire almost dropped her bundle of tack.

‘Derek, what are you doing here?'

‘I'm in this game too, you know.'

‘Yes, of course,' Claire said, surprised to find herself blushing violently.

‘Great to hear you got your own training ticket,' Derek said with a grin.

Claire opened her mouth. How could he possibly know that?

‘What? You're really a trainer – in your own right, not just with Jack? Why didn't you tell me?' Bernadette cried, leaping forward and hugging her friend, startling Paycheque into the darkness of his stall, and causing Howie to open his eyes and check out the commotion. Over Bernadette's shoulder Claire noticed the young lass was still at Paycheque's gate, speaking to him in soothing tones.

‘Oh, just some red tape someone managed to cut through or something,' Claire said, withdrawing from her friend's embrace, but keeping her eye on the girl at the gate.

Paycheque was back, peering out warily as the girl stroked his face. ‘See, you big goose? Nothing scary out here, just people doing silly people things.'

Claire stared, perplexed, impressed.

Derek cleared his throat. ‘Sorry Claire, this is my daughter Madeline. Maddie, this is Claire McIntyre.'

‘Hi,' Madeline said, beaming and putting her hand out. ‘Nice to meet you.'

Claire shook the hand while appraising Derek's daughter. She could see a slight resemblance. Their eyes were a similar blue-grey and both had long, narrow noses.

‘Derek, I didn't know you had a daughter.'

‘Hasn't been around much – ran away to join the horsey world, didn't you sweetheart?' he said, putting his arm around the blushing girl.

‘So, are you a jockey?' Bernadette asked.

Madeline didn't get a chance to answer because just at that moment Jack McIntyre sauntered up to the group.

‘Derek, great to see you again,' Jack said, thrusting out his hand.

‘Likewise, Jack. These two look like they're coming along,' Derek said, nodding at the horses.

A few pieces of jigsaw fell into place for Claire. ‘It was you, wasn't it?' she demanded of Derek.'

‘What? What was me?'

‘The one who told Dad about the changes for trainers?'

‘I might have mentioned it.'

‘Suppose I'm meant to thank you for interfering in my life?'

‘Claire, don't be like that. He's done us both a favour,' Jack said.

‘Dad, rarely does Derek Anderson do anyone a favour, unless there's something in it for him. So what is it this time?'

Bernadette and Madeline were shifting on their feet, looking about awkwardly. Madeline was blushing violently, obviously totally embarrassed.

‘Well, er…' Derek stammered.

‘See, you can't just do something nice for someone – there's always a catch.'

Derek had recovered his composure and was now looking Claire in the eye. He had a grin on his face, which annoyed her even more. He grabbed her by the arms and before she had a chance to protest said, ‘If you would stop being so bloody prickly, Claire McIntyre, you would know that Jack here rang me to see if Madeline would come by and meet Paycheque. Seeing as he's as prickly as you, we thought a woman rider might be the answer. Female jockeys aren't getting much of a look-in at the moment.'

‘It's true, Claire,' Jack said. ‘I thought maybe we needed a female jockey, since you can't race him.'

Now it was Claire's turn to burn beetrootred. ‘Oh right, well then I'm sorry, especially to you Madeline. I didn't mean to embarrass you.'