Race Girl (44 page)

Tully slept well past nine and woke in a cold sweat, screaming Dahlia's name. Fia brought her a cup of Chamomile tea and some dry toast, wrapping her in another soft blanket.

It was three days before Tully was able to force herself from the darkness of Fia's spare room, pull on some clothes and ride with Fia to the stable. She drifted into the barn behind her aunt, smiling vaguely when Mr. Dodd shuffled up, offering his condolences for the incredible horse they'd lost to Pearce Weston. It was as if her body would simply vanish in a strong breeze – she was a shell of a person, her heart hollow and bleeding, her soul and spirit crushed by the weight of her devastating new reality. She wouldn't find Dahlia in her stall; her beloved horse was gone. She couldn't speak to Brandon, couldn't speak to her father or ever return home. It seemed to her that one more kick in the guts like this would destroy her.

Tully took a rough breath and wrapped her arms around her body. Hair tickled at her cheek from the messy high ponytail she'd thrown it into. She pushed her hands into the pockets of her Germaine Racing jumper, letting her fingers smooth over the soft fabric, wind around loose strands of thread deep in the pockets.
You have to soldier on
,
Tully,
she told herself, taking another step down the barn aisle. Fia paused in the doorway to her office, mobile to her ear, smiling warmly.
Be strong . . . like Dahlia
.

Tully made her way unsteadily down to Calypso's stall, her Blundstones squeaking on the swept concrete. Calypso's head whipped out of his stall door and he let out a deep, desperate whinny.

‘Hey, matey,' Tully said, making her way to him. Her hands found his soft face, her lips met his muzzle. A smile rose despite her broken, frigid core, spreading a welcome heat into her cheeks. ‘I've missed you, handsome.'

Calypso brought his nose down to her waist, nuzzling at her pockets, then took a step in towards her and wrapped his neck around her body, a wonderful warm horsey hug.

‘Ah, thank you,' she said, flinging her arms up around his huge, strong neck. ‘I love you, too.' She buried her face in his mane, letting the coarse hair massage her skin and his reassuring scent seep into her soul, filling her back up again. She held him tightly, stroking his neck and his face, until Fia called out from the office. She wanted to get back into work, Tully realised, gazing deep into Calypso's kind, gleaming eyes. But first, she needed to see Dahlia – make sure she was being treated properly.
Enough hiding, wallowing,
Tully thought.
Dahlia needs me.

Tully gave Calypso one last rub of his ears, before heading down to Fia's office. ‘What have you got on today, Aunt Fia?' she said, pausing at the end of Fia's desk.

Fia looked up from a stack of files, her perfectly shaped eyebrows raising in surprise. ‘I'm sure Calypso would like a ride, if you're up to it?' She smiled, pushing her papers to the side. ‘The cup horses will be having their final gallops today,' she said wistfully, then shook her head. ‘But we've got big things to prepare for, haven't we? Die I tell you that I've got a new filly coming in from a syndicate in Queensland? A mate of Shannon's wants to move her down. Stunning black filly, you'll love her. Why don't you go get ready and take Calypso out for me first, though, please?'

‘Will do, thank you.' Tully smiled tightly, gave her aunt a quick hug, then ducked out into the aisle.
Calypso can wait a minutes for his ride,
she thought, quickening her step.
Dahlia will be meeting her new jockey today, if she hasn't already. It's now or never.

Tully jogged down to the tack room, pulled her gear bag out of her locker and dressed quickly in her exercise gear. She grabbed her ID badge out of her duffel bag and walked quickly and purposefully out of the barn, out towards the far eastern side of the complex. Pearce's horses were usually stabled with Richard's when he was in town for big meets, and the place was a mad house. She'd walked past a few times her first cup season to check out Fia's ex-husband's infamous outfit and had been shocked by the number of people and horses and officials and trailers and tarted-up girls coming and going. She prayed she'd be able to slip in without seeing Pearce or someone else who would recognise her as Dahlia's old owner, not a generic track work rider coming in for her morning rides.

Vicious blasts of wind whipped at her face from a darkening sky as she jogged through the rows of barns, past the Headquarters Tavern, the hot walkers and O'Grady's treadmill, to Richard's Barn One. Her heart fired up for the first time in days, thumping hard and quite solidly, filled with strength from the prospect of seeing Dahlia again.

A powerful sense of anticipation and anxiety surged through Tully as she neared the stable, dropping her chin to her chest, tucking her helmet, goggles and whip under her arm. A horse transporter was parked out front and from it sleek thoroughbreds were being unloaded, their ears pricked and nostrils flaring in the crisp morning. Two men stood out front, one on the phone, the other ready to ride – dressed like she was. A security guard with a walkie-talkie at his belt alongside what Tully was sure was a gun, stalked along the front of the stable, turned and disappeared around the side. Tully didn't remember seeing a guard at Richard's barn before.
Must be here for Dahlia,
she thought, her heart gaining pace.

Tully veered around the trailer and ducked into the barn, her step purposeful and assured like she belonged there. The rider glanced up, narrowed his brows, but nodded. She nodded back, quickened her step and lifted her eyes briefly to take in the stable. Two horses were being led out the end, tacked up and ready for gallops. Stalls to her right were being mucked and re-bedded by bright young girls chatting and singing along to the stream of country tunes filling the corridor.

Tully searched the stalls, two glossy bays looking up at the sound of her footsteps. She flinched at a stern male voice at the end of the barn and hopped to the other side of the aisle, her eyes darting into the stalls on the left hand side of the stable. She heard the pawing first and her heart leapt –
Dahlia
.

Tully broke into a run, crossing the aisle in a few steps and turning her shoulders away from two more girls, who stumbled, giggling, from an office in the middle of the barn. She kept her pace, not daring to look back, the image of Pearce's sneering face in the forefront of her mind – of how his expression would morph into anger, aggression, if he spotted her in his barn. Near his horses.

Dahlia's stall door was closed. She was in a padded stall at the very end – Tully had never even
seen
a padded stall in a racing stable before. The crash of her body connecting with the thinly padded metal sent a tingle though Tully's skin. She searched the stalls, frantic for a way in.

‘Anyone seen Miena?' A man called from behind her. ‘Richard—get her in to settle Dahlia, will ya? We can't have that bloody horse hurting herself!'

Weston
, Tully would recognise that clipped, arrogant voice anywhere. She thought of Brandon, of how his voice was so much deeper, his words so much softer when they had caressed her skin.

‘Dahlia!' Tully whispered, dropping low and slipping the neighbouring stall door open, shutting it silently behind her. The mare froze, then pawed hard at the wall, the thud of her hooves and a frantic, shrill whinny could be heard through the stable. ‘
Shh, shhh!
' Tully hissed, moving briskly to the far back corner of the stall where a band of daylight shone through from the padded stall next door. She dropped into the shavings, turned her head to peer in through a narrow gap. Dahlia's shining coat was wet with sweat everywhere that wasn't covered by a thin Weston Racing sheet. Her eyes wild, her mane flying as she paced along the stall, trying to reach Tully.

Tully whistled softly and pulled a slice of apple from her pocket, feeding it in through the slit. The mare sniffed along the base of the stall, dropping nearly to her knees to wrap her lips around the apple. Her deep brown eyes met Tully's and she nearly cried out from the pain and the longing to fling her arms around her horse's neck and ride her far from here. Back to home.

‘It's okay, Dahlia,' Tully spoke softly, soothingly, from some calm, strong place within herself. ‘You're going to be okay, alright, Dahls? Calm down, please, girl.
Calm
. . .' Dahlia sniffed at the slit, smelling for Tully, munching the last of her apple. Then she pulled back, dropped her head to see right into Tully's eyes, listening.

‘I need you to behave yourself okay, please?' Tully continued, reaching a finger in to feel the velvety softness of Dahlia's nose. She stroked her gently, hot tears racing down her cheeks. ‘I need you to be a good girl, Dahlia. You need to put up with these people, you need to run this cup, and you need to do it without me, okay?' She peered in again, locking eyes with her mare. ‘You can do it, Dahls.'

The mare tossed her head, pawed at the matting. Then she dropped her nose to Tully, nodding, like she was trying to fit through to snuggle her. ‘Be good, Dahls. I'll be with you, even if you can't see me.' She fed her mare the last piece of apple just as Miena's voice, nasal and fake, rang out from the end of the barn. The
clop, clop
of a horse's hooves followed her words, ‘Just have to put Terminator away! He hates being beside that friggin' psycho, Richard, can't we move him along?'

‘Be good,' Tully said one last time, looking up at her mare and smiling. ‘You can do this without me.' She bit her lip to keep from crying out, then reached desperately for one last brush of Dahlia's whiskers, before crawling across the stall to the door.

Dahlia called out and the sound of her pleading splintered Tully's heart. She sobbed silently, wiping her eyes and nose with the sleeve of her jumper. Miena had paused at the office, Terminator bashing his face impatiently against her back. Tully grimaced at another
crash
against the wall of Dahlia's stall, slid the door open and ducked out into the hall, her eyes fixed on the light of day beyond the guard.

‘G'day,' she said casually, the guard nodding in greeting before turning to continue his rounds around the barn.

Fear of being discovered kept Tully walking as long as she could, but once she was past the second barn, around the side of the swimming pool and one of the walkers, her legs gave out, and she slumped to the ground. A clap of thunder shook the sky and she glanced up at the angry black clouds, before curling into a ball, pushing her body into a corner created between a green-clad stable wall and a walker, her forehead on her knees. She punched out at the side of the building until her knuckles ached and dripped with blood.

Why does it have to end like this?
she thought desperately.
Why does Pearce have to ruin my life, Dahlia's life, Brandon's . . .
Tully shut her eyes; couldn't bear to think of him at that moment. The fear that she'd never feel his arms around again her swamped all her other emotions, despite her concern for her horse.

Dahlia's not okay,
Focus on Dahlia!
Tully told herself, sending a final, crushing punch at the wall. Pearce Weston had little tolerance for horses that didn't toe the line, even ones capable of winning the Melbourne Cup.
Dahlia's in danger, and I don't know how to help!

Rain was pattering against the tin roof of Barn Fifteen by the time Tully stumbled in, down to the tack room. She found her phone at the bottom of her bag, sat down heavily on the wooden bench, pulling her knees up to her chest. She was about to scroll for Brandon's number, to call and apologise and beg him to come and help her free her horse, when an incoming call from an ‘03' Victorian number lit up the screen.

She swiped a finger to answer, hoping like hell it was Brandon from the airport or someone with positive news about her horse. ‘Um, hello?'

‘Miss Athens?' A man said, then cleared his throat.

‘Yes, this is Tully . . .'

‘Miss Athens, my name is Sergeant Kayhill, I'm from the Flemington Police Station. We've just received a call from our officers up at Albury/Wodonga. I'm sorry to have to notify you, Miss Athens, but we visited your listed address here in Melbourne, and were unable to locate you in person . . .'

‘What?' Tully said. ‘Sorry?'

‘Your father is Gerald Athens?'

‘Gerald is my dad's name, yes.'

‘Your father was killed this morning in a light plane crash, Miss Athens. I'm so sorry for your loss. The plane he was in went down just east of Albury. And according to the flight logs, he was headed down to Melbourne.'

37

Battle till the End