Paycheque (50 page)

Claire reflected on the race with a great sense of relief as she made her way back to the stalls. Paycheque's introduction to the turf at Caulfield had been drama-free. Although he'd finished mid-field in his race, it was more due to an unlucky start than anything else.
Team McIntyre was definitely back on track, so to speak
, she chuckled to herself as she strode on. Hopefully all would go well with Howie as well. Claire was at the gate marked ‘Authorised Entry Only' when a voice called from behind her.

‘Claire McIntyre?'

She stopped and turned. ‘Yes?' A middle-aged man in a battered straw fedora waved an arm at her. He hurried to catch up with an uneven, almost skipping gait. A large stomach hung below his belt and wobbled back and forth with every step. A lanyard dangled from his neck, but whatever was on it was covered by the notepad he clutched to his chest. The heavy creasing of his short-sleeved lemon shirt stopped where his stomach strained against the buttons.

‘Bill Holloway,' the man said, puffing and thrusting out his hand. The beginnings of sweat glistened in the stubble just below his dark grey sideburns. As Claire returned his rough handshake she wondered where she'd heard the name. ‘
The Age
, sports,' he added with a gasp.

‘You want to interview me?'

‘Yes, would you mind?'

‘I think you've got the wrong person. I train the horse that came fifth.' She laughed, and moved to push the gate open.

‘Damn sight better than at Werribee.'

Claire stopped. Something clicked in her mind. ‘Ah, you're the one who wrote that piece in the paper.'

‘Yeah. Hey, quite the turnaround – what did you do?'

Claire shrugged. ‘Just needed more time to settle after the trip. He's new to travelling.'

‘No way. What I saw last week was nothing to do with post-travel nerves. He was a total fruitcake.'

‘Gee, thanks – I imagine you got that from Todd Newman as well.'

‘That's why I'm trying to talk to you.'

‘Why, exactly?'

‘To get the full story. That horse has true potential.'

‘Really?' Claire said with unmistakable sarcasm. ‘Bet you didn't get
that
from Todd.'

‘No. So come on, what did you do between then and now? He's like a different horse.'

‘You wouldn't believe me if I told you.' Claire threw her head back and laughed.

‘Try me.'

‘Look I really don't have time – I've got another horse to get ready.'

‘Hazardous Waste. Yes, I know.'

‘You've certainly done your homework, Mr Holloway. Sorry, but I really do have to go,' she said, checked her watch and made to move on.

‘It's Bill, and I'm happy to wait.'

‘Well you're welcome to, but I'll be a while.' Claire offered an apologetic shrug. She held up her pass, got the nod from the security officer and pushed the gate open.

‘Who's your friend?' Jack said, pausing from towelling down Paycheque to indicate towards the man still standing at the gate.

‘Some journo. Wants to talk about Paycheque.'

‘Why?'

‘He wants to know what we've done to bring about such a miraculous change since Werribee – he's the one that wrote that small piece quoting Todd Newman.'

‘So, what are you going to tell him?'

‘Don't know if I'm going to tell him anything.'

‘But aren't you going to at least talk to him?'

‘Haven't decided. You can if you want. Toss you for it.'

‘No thanks. They don't want the ramblings of an old fart.'

‘Maybe he'll find someone more interesting before I get a chance.'

Derek strode towards the gate where the journalist was still waiting.

‘Bill Holloway, how the hell are you?'

‘Derek, old mate!'

‘Editor of the sports section yet?'

‘Not exactly. I'm lucky to even get a by-line half the time.'

Claire stood listening, hidden by Paycheque.

‘Hey, aren't you connected to Claire McIntyre?'

‘We're involved. Why do you ask?'

‘I wanted to talk to her about Paycheque's turnaround since Werribee last week – remarkable.'

‘Yes, it certainly is remarkable,' Derek said, shaking his head.

‘So, what have they done?'

‘You wouldn't believe me if I told you.'

‘That's what she said. What's going on?'

‘Not for me to say.'

‘Aw, come on Derek. Give me something here.'

‘Not without Claire's permission. Bill, you're a married man. Rule number one: don't piss the missus off, right?'

‘Well could you at least get her to talk to me? Here's my card. I'm heading back to the members'.'

‘I'll pass it on. You know, you could always do something on me – I own Humble Beginnings.'

‘Yeah, sorry mate. No offence, but there's no angle in consistently average.'

‘Well, worth a try.' Derek grinned. He turned and walked back to where Claire was doing up Paycheque's rugs.

‘Saw you talking to that journalist,' Claire said.

‘Bill Holloway? I've known him for ages – he's harmless enough.' He shrugged.

‘So, did you say anything? About us, Paycheque?'

‘Not my place.'

‘Good, thanks.'

‘But you probably should – give him his interview, that is. I think it would be a good idea.'

‘Yeah, I've been thinking about it.'

‘He left his card – he'll be at the members' bar for a while yet.'

‘Oh, I'm nervous now. What do I say?'

‘Whatever you want. Just be your gorgeous, charming self and you can't go wrong.'

‘Hope he doesn't want a picture, I'm covered in horse snot and sweat.'

‘So, how did your first big media conference go?'

‘I had a drink with him – a ten-minute chat – hardly a big media conference, darling. But it was relatively painless. He's going to try and get something in for Monday, so we'll see then if we're the laughingstock of the Spring Carnival.'

‘You told him about the cats, then?'

‘I had to. He was obsessed with Paycheque's suddenly reformed character. I didn't want him raising speculation we were into doping or anything.'

‘Good point. I wonder if he'll do a serious piece or take the piss.'

‘You know what? I don't care. People can laugh all they want, but the fact is, it worked.'

‘That's my girl,' he said, hugging her tightly.

Claire had been both eagerly and apprehensively awaiting the article and was surprised by how disappointed she felt when it failed to appear in Monday's paper. She tried to pretend she hadn't noticed, but
Derek knew her too well. He gave her hand a knowing squeeze and her forehead a sympathetic kiss. She tried to put it out of her mind by being annoyed at the journalist for letting her down.

But then she stopped. Why was she taking it personally? It was totally beyond her control. For all she knew the article had missed its deadline, or been too long for the allocated space. Even if they'd decided she wasn't interesting enough to cover, it wasn't her fault. She'd been pleased with how she'd conducted herself. She'd spoken honestly and openly, displaying a good mix of pride and humility, charm and determination. She expelled the tension with a slow outward breath, something she'd become very good at recently. Really, what good did worrying about things you couldn't change do? She smiled up at Derek.

Claire was startled when Jack burst into the caravan crying, ‘Check this out!' He laid a newspaper open on the table in front of her. She stared – almost in disbelief – at the article stretching across two columns with small photo of her standing next to Paycheque peering out of his stall: ‘Cats Save Caulfield Cup Campaign'.

In a move not dissimilar to Jardines Lookout being accompanied by Henry the Shetland pony, part-owner/trainer Claire McIntyre's move to fly in two moggies has put her Caulfield Cup campaign back on track
.

All indications point to success, with the unorthodox move seeming to have worked wonders on the cantankerous Paycheque. Just over a week ago the pint-sized bay kicked up a storm at the barriers at Werribee, leaving those in the industry to scratch their heads over the McIntyres' decision to nominate the horse for the Caulfield Cup. On Saturday he lined up in race four for his first run at Caulfield, and while his feisty nature could be seen bubbling just below the surface, he behaved every bit the perfect gentleman. He was unlucky, only managing fifth after a poor start and being pushed out wide on the first turn
.

After the race I asked Claire McIntyre about the turnaround in his behaviour. ‘Well it seems he's no different to the rest of us,' Claire said. ‘He gets cranky when he doesn't get enough sleep. I just underestimated how much influence the cats had.' Apparently Paycheque sleeps lying down with two cats, Sandy and Terry, curled up against his chest, and when he was here without them, he spent his nights fretting and pacing
.

‘
Maddie, our jockey, was sleeping nearby and being kept awake. We had to do something and thank goodness it seems to have worked,' Claire said
.

After thirty years as a trainer out at Mount Pleasant, this is Jack McIntyre's first Melbourne Spring Carnival. Look out for the McIntyres' other promising mount, Hazardous Waste, in the sixth at Sandown Wednesday
.

‘Not bad. Not bad at all,' Jack said with obvious pride.

‘Wish I sounded more intelligent,' Claire said, blushing. ‘I thought he'd paraphrase, make it up.'

‘Be grateful he didn't or else we could have come across the freaks of the carnival.' Jack laughed.

‘Nah, Bill's one of the good guys,' Derek said.

‘Let's hope Howie lives up to the hype,' Claire said, closing the paper and pushing it aside.