Riding on Air (22 page)

I considered opting out of my last 10 laps as the increase in bodies in the lanes also increased the chances I might bump into someone or have their hand clip one of mine as they swam past. That had only happened a few times when the lanes were really busy, but was distinctly unenjoyable, for me at least. But then I thought of all the time Eleni and Tash were giving up to work Jinx for me, as well as how beautifully Jinx was going, and I changed my mind. I gave my goggles an experimental wiggle to make sure they were still securely in place and then pushed off backwards from the wall. I owed it to my friends and my horse to put in the extra miles—literally, in the case of lap swimming—to make sure I could do them all justice.

If my hands would settle down thoroughly enough so I could ride.

And if William didn't do anything else to get in my way.

I turned at the deep end and took a quick look down the pool to make sure nobody else had entered my lane. All good so far, so I eased my head down until my neck was comfortable and stretched my arms back and over my head, left, right, left, right.

I wondered if William was ever going to speak to me again. If he didn't it was going to be awkward next time he came round. I wondered if I wanted him to talk to me again and the spasm in my stomach at the thought of it not happening was an instant answer. I wondered if it had been doomed from the start and if, as I always suspected, nobody could handle my condition once it was in their face. I pushed that thought away as it was just too damn depressing.

That was the major drawback of having done lap swimming since I was six years old. Once I got settled into a swimming session my body sort of took over and I didn't have to concentrate on what I was doing. And that left me way too much time to think about stuff. Which was fine, except when there was a lot of stuff I didn't want to think about.

I tried to stop thinking about him, but I might as well have tried to stop breathing.

I couldn't sleep. Rolling over in bed for about the hundredth time, I opened my eyes and peered at the alarm clock on my bedside table. The glowing green numerals mocked me—11.52pm. I had to be up in around six hours to feed Jinx so he had plenty of time to eat before we left for Goulburn.

I couldn't believe the day had almost come. I couldn't believe William hadn't thrown any more conditions my way and that nothing else had gone wrong, touch wood. I really couldn't believe that on the night I totally needed to get plenty of sleep, I was wide awake.

I kept thinking of things I had to remember to do in the morning and crossing off mental check lists. Yes, Tash and Eleni knew what time to get here. Yes, I had packed everything I needed to pack. Yes, I did know the movements of my tests.

And then I'd start thinking about actually riding the tests and my stomach would rise up in a horrible, slow, but somehow weighty roll, then flop back down like a wheat sack. I'd only been back on Jinx this last week, riding under Eleni's critical eye with Tash sitting in the chair I'd occupied the previous weeks, commenting from the sidelines. I think the proper name for what she was doing most of the time was heckling. At least she'd made me laugh enough not to get too nervous.

My stomach rolled heavily again and I groaned and nudged the covers back. Nervous. Nervous about riding my own horse, just ridiculous. Although I'd get over that once I'd been on his back for five minutes. He was the same old Jinx, only better. And he was better alright. I should have been happy and grateful but a tiny, nasty part of me was jealous.

Wriggling out of the snug cocoon of my covers, I got up and went padding down the hall to the kitchen. I could get myself a glass of chocolate milk and see if that helped me sleep. It was supposed to and even if it didn't, it tasted good.

I walked into the kitchen, blinking like a startled rabbit in the bright light, and found Jennie sitting at the table reading a book. She looked up with her ever-ready smile and pushed her reading glasses up on top of her head.

“Can't sleep, huh?”

“No, worse luck.”

“Nervous about tomorrow I suppose.”

“Yes,” I said, stomach churning again. “I thought I'd get some chocolate milk.”

“Oh, honey, Gary polished the last of it off after you'd gone to bed.”

“Oh,” I hesitated, unsure whether to look for something else or just go back to bed. Maybe if I listened to some music on my iPod I'd eventually fall asleep.

“I could make you a hot chocolate, if you'd like?”

“Oh, yes please.” I loved Jennie's hot chocolates. They were awesome. I made a mental apology for any bad thoughts I'd had towards Gary. He'd done me an accidental favour, really.

“Have a seat.” Jennie said, getting up herself.

“What are you reading?” I asked her as I slid onto one of the kitchen chairs.

“Jane Eyre.”

“Again?”

Jennie laughed. “Don't you listen to your favourite songs over and over?”

“Yeah, I didn't mean that. I re-read my favourite books, too. I meant—didn't you only just read it again?”

“At Christmas, yes.”

“That long.” The kitchen tiles were cold and I tucked my feet under my chair, wishing I'd stopped for my slippers. I couldn't believe how fast the year was flashing by; it seemed like Jennie had been immersed in that book only a couple of weeks ago.

I watched her as she moved around the kitchen, admiring the thick blonde plait that dangled down her back and the long elegant lines of her back. She would have looked wonderful on a horse, she was so tall and slender, but she always shuddered and giggled whenever I suggested it.

I rubbed my feet together, shivering, and blushed sheepishly when I looked around to see Jennie looking at me. She just grinned and came over, kicked her slippers off, then went back to what she was doing in her socks. Gratefully, I poked my feet into the pre-heated warmth of the sheep-skin ankle boots. “Thanks.”

“Welcome.” Jennie poured milk into a mug and reached over to open the microwave door.

I thought for about the thousandth time how lucky I was that Jennie had married my Dad. I could have ended up with a stepmother who sucked, but Jennie was great. I'd liked her right from the start, though that might have had more to do with the excitement I felt at getting two instant big brothers—I was only eight at the time. Jennie had stepped in to fill the hole Mum's absence left without ever trying to actually take her place. I might not have understood the difference then, but I appreciated it now I was older.

I tucked my hands under my pyjama top, resting them against the warmth of my belly while I waited for the microwave to finish. Jennie disappeared into the walk-in pantry, reappearing with the jar of marshmallows, then assembled a saucer and a long spoon. With a conspirator's grin in my direction she put three marshmallows onto the saucer—two vanilla and one raspberry. I grinned back at her. She knew exactly what I liked.

As she moved between fridge, kettle and microwave I thought about that. How even though Jennie didn't ride herself and actually didn't even seem to like horses very much, she understood my need to ride Jinx. And yet Mum, who'd been a champion show rider when she was my age, seemed so dead against it.

“Jennie,” I asked, “why don't you like horses?”

“Too big. Lots of teeth.”

I snorted at the idea of Jinx biting anyone or of Jennie being daunted by anything, let alone Jinx.

“Nothing bothers you. Why don't you like them, really?”

“Lots of things bother me, honey.”

“Like what?”

The microwave dinged and Jennie busied herself with putting the finishing touches to my hot chocolate before carrying it carefully over to the table. She sat back in her seat and picked up her mug of tea. I started to wonder if she was avoiding answering me.

“Well, the big things, of course, like the thought of something happening to you or your Dad or the boys, but lots of stupid things too. Like when a shop assistant ignores me or I buy a coffee and it's cold, or petrol was 10 cents cheaper in the morning only I was in too much of a rush to fill up and now I have to pay extra. Stupid insignificant stuff.”

“Me too. Well, except the petrol,” I said, amazed that someone else—an adult—could be annoyed by the same kind of trivia that bugged me.

“It will one day,” she said. She sipped her tea and looked at me thoughtfully.

“Do you want to talk about it, honey, or just sit?”

I shrugged. “You can go back to your book if you want.”

“That's not why I asked.”

“I know.”

Jennie sipped some more of her tea and just looked at me, waiting.

I shrugged again.

“I'm just nervous, I guess.”

“It's a big deal for you tomorrow, isn't it?”

“Yes. I just—I don't know. I don't normally get this nervous.” I thought about the solid weight of my hands, resting against my stomach. Back riding for barely a week and already they were getting sore. Today I'd thought about taking one of the stashed painkillers, except I remembered I no longer had any, thanks to William, and then had been shocked at myself. I hadn't realised I'd been relying on them so much. Without any way of self-medicating, I'd had to ask Tash to give Jinx the last preparation ride today because I needed to keep my hands in the best possible shape for tomorrow. Maybe that's what was really bothering me, but I could hardly confide that to Jennie.

“What are you nervous about?”

“Huh?”

“Being nervous is natural before something like this, but it's non-specific and that makes it hard to deal with it. What exactly is making you nervous? Are you worried about falling off? Doing badly? Failing?”

“I—maybe, I'm not sure.”

“Do you understand what I mean about being specific, though?”

“I think so, I just hadn't thought about it before.”

We sat in silence, me thinking, Jennie waiting. She might have been thinking, I suppose, although I didn't know what about. With Jennie it could be anything from the book she was reading to a case she'd had at work that day to what to plant in the garden next year. You just never knew. It made her kind of interesting.

“Getting anywhere?”

“No,” I admitted, feeling about as sheepish as the slippers warming my toes. “I got distracted wondering what you were thinking about.”

“I was thinking about you and wondering if maybe this wasn't just nerves.”

“What do you mean?”

Jennie gave me a long glance and the softness around her eyes warned me.

“Breaking up is hard. I was thinking maybe William has a lot to do with it.”

I swallowed, stomach lurching, mortified at the rush of tears that threatened. I blinked rapidly, hoping Jennie wouldn't do anything well-meaning like cuddle me and bring the tears on, because I did want to talk to her, desperately. I didn't want to go on feeling like this and I didn't want to cry because that just never made me feel any better.

“I stuffed it up,” I choked out.

“Maybe. But I'm sure you could fix it.”

“I'm not. He was really mad at me.”

“I don't know what you two argued about but I do know this: that boy is totally besotted, Melly, and it wouldn't take much effort from you, I'm sure.”

“He wants me to do something I can't,” I said and almost fell over myself as Jennie's eyes widened. “No! Not that. He wouldn't—I wouldn't, not yet anyway—oh!”

Jennie laughed and shook her head, miming putting her fingers in her ears.

“Never mind, never mind. I'll just say though that if you think you might be going there one day soon, come and see me first and we'll make sure you're safe. Better that than sorry.”

I shook my head again, sniffling, embarrassed. Heartbroken.

“That's not going to happen now. He's not even talking to me.” William hadn't spoken to me since the night we came back from the hospital. He'd sent me one text at the end of the third week: ‘U kept ur side Ill keep mine gd luck @ Goulburn'. So I knew he wasn't going to tell Dad or Jennie why I'd had those falls and that was all I knew. That and he didn't want to be with me anymore. If he ever really did.

“I should have known it was too good to be true,” I said. I might have managed not to cry, but it was backlogging my sinuses badly. I sniffed again and bent down to blow cautiously on the hot chocolate, but I could feel the heat rising off the rich brown liquid. Still too hot to drink.

“What do you mean?”

I slid my hand out and carefully picked up a marshmallow, dropping it in the hot chocolate. I held my hand up, showing Jennie my crooked puffy fingers.

“This is why.”

Jennie frowned.

“I don't understand. What has your hand got to do with it?”

“Everything. My hands are ugly and horrible and freakish. People can't handle them. Even Mum couldn't stand it, so she left. I think part of me has always known it was too good to be true. With William, I mean. I knew sooner or later it would put him off.”

Jenny put her mug down on the table and looked at me carefully.

“Wait a minute. Are you saying you think William broke off with you because of the arthritis? And that your mother left you—left your father—because of you?”

“Because I had JRA, sure.”

Jennie's face blanked out in a way I'd only seen her do once or twice before, when she was completely flummoxed.

“What on earth put that idea into your head? Did somebody tell you that?”

I shrugged. “I've always known. After I was diagnosed she went all stiff and then she left.”

“Your mother loves you, honey—”

“I know that—”

“Don't interrupt,” Jennie said sternly, making me shut my mouth with a snap. She didn't often have to put on the parental voice, not since I was thirteen or so, but I listened when she did. Jennie would always keep a promise and always carry out a punishment. She didn't do threats or bribes; she didn't need to.