by Cathryn Hein
‘Unfortunately, Danny’s part of the furniture.’
She nodded but didn’t look entirely convinced. Then she focused her grey eyes on his and he caught a glimpse of intense vulnerability.
‘Are you sure that’s all?’
Shame at his behaviour left him voiceless. He nodded, wanting to touch her.
‘You’d tell me, though, wouldn’t you, if I did do something that annoyed you?’
He smiled at her, needing to erase that look from her eyes. ‘Soph, you’re worrying about nothing. I’m just a moody old sod.'
‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive. How can someone bearing Anzac biscuits possibly be annoying?’
Aaron wiped steam off the mirror and tried to concentrate on shaving, but his mind was on Sophie and the way she’d looked at him that morning.
Most of the time, she exuded either bouncy good humour or spirited determination, but occasionally he caught glimpses of a twelve-year-old girl lost in the confusion of her mother’s suicide and the labyrinth of lies woven by the adults around her.
He didn’t like that little girl – she was like a ghost sent to remind him of all the things he’d done wrong – but at the same time he needed her. She was his conscience. One look from her snapped him out of the fantasy world the adult Sophie sometimes wove around him, and dumped him back into cold hard reality.
He wrapped a towel around his hips and wandered into the kitchen for the clothes he’d left warming by the stove. As he pulled on his good jeans, he stared out through the window at his mother’s old garden. The grass seed he’d thrown around was emerging in sickly swathes of lime and yellow, crying out for nourishment. It was unsightly, but even nutrient-deprived grass was better than the ragged reminders of his mother. He didn’t need Carol Laidlaw’s garden to remind him of the past; Sophie’s lost and haunted little-girl look did that. Pulling on his boots, Aaron grabbed his keys and headed outside, surprised to find Sophie’s Range Rover still in the yard.
He stared around, unease crawling insect-like over his skin. He’d left her playing with the horses, feeding them carrots, prattling her usual soothing nonsense to them. Had she been hurt? Kicked by one of the horses? Fallen somehow?
He looked at Rowdy’s box and realised that for once, the horse was quiet. He strode over and peered in. In the far corner, Rowdy stood with his eyelids drooping and his bottom lip flopping, while lying forward on his back with her arms around his neck and her eyes closed, was Sophie. Aaron rested his arms on the top of the half-door and watched them for a moment, thinking how peaceful they looked together and how pretty Sophie’s pale skin appeared against Rowdy’s dark, glossy-brown coat.
‘Don’t you have a home to go to?’ he said.
Sophie smiled but didn’t open her eyes. ‘Yes. And I’ve stock to move and a paddock to oversow and horses to work.’
‘So what are you still doing here? ’
‘Making friends.’
‘It’s a horse, Sophie.’
‘He’s a friend, too.’
‘Do you always hug your friends like that? ’
‘If I had them, I would.’
His smile faded. ‘Come on, Soph. You must have plenty of friends.’
She let go of Rowdy’s neck and sat up. Her hair was messy and a patch of dirt marked one side of her face. ‘Not really. Not close ones like other people have.’
She made friendlessness sound like it was the most normal thing in the world. Giving Rowdy a slap on the neck, she slid off his back, picked up his wool rug and tossed it over his rump, and then busied herself with the front buckle.
Aaron didn’t know what to say to her. He didn’t want to believe it, but somehow he knew she spoke the truth. The only thing she ever talked about was horses and the events she went to. She’d told him that occasionally, when something interested her, she’d show up at one of the Department of Agriculture’s farm field days to see if there was anything she could learn. But she’d said she didn’t do it often. The old-timers made her uncomfortable, and no one took her seriously. They made her feel like a labourer following her father’s direction, instead of Vanaheim’s farm manager. Only the new agronomist at the local farm supplies place had realised that she ran the show, but she’d said even he sometimes couldn’t help his ingrained sexism showing through.
Not once had Aaron heard Sophie mention going out to parties or catching up with friends at the pub, or even going to the movies. The peculiarity of this had never occurred to him. He’d simply assumed that she was like any other 22-year-old, that there was more to her existence than horses and the farm. That she had a life outside of Vanaheim he didn’t know about.
He scrutinised her as she finished adjusting Rowdy’s rug. Sophie was too confident not to have had men in her life, and he knew from experience she could flirt, although in his case she only did it because she knew it made him uncomfortable. That wasn’t the behaviour of someone inexperienced, not from his perspective.
Unless she’s faking it.
A memory of Fiona Dixon floated in his conscience, how she had used her gentle smile to mask her tormented soul. Then he recalled the way her face had folded in on itself as she heard the words he’d sobbed and yelled at her. How she’d accepted them without question. And how, when her shock had passed, she’d once more slipped the mask back into place.
How he now accepted the terrible truth of what he’d done.
He’d learnt long ago a suicide takes more than their own life. They suck those who love them into the abyss as well, and Sophie was no exception. Her reclusion was his fault. Another fallen domino in the chain he’d started ten years ago when he’d done his mother’s bidding and doped his first horse.
He’d thought it had ended with the death of his father, five years before, that the burden of guilt would be his to carry alone, but he realised now the tiles had continued tumbling, catching an innocent in their wake. He had to make them stop.
For Sophie.
She patted Rowdy and kissed his nose. ‘Horses are so much better than people, don’t you think?’
‘I don’t know about that.’
‘I do. They’re like dogs, except bigger and not quite as demonstrative. No matter what you do, they love you.’
‘They’re still horses, Sophie. Not people.’ The words came out harsher than he intended, but she didn’t seem to notice.
‘What about you? Do you have lots of friends?’
Aaron had to think on that for a moment. He had friends, yes. He was either too busy, too tired or too broke to socialise often, but that didn’t make him friendless or isolated, like Sophie appeared to be.
‘I’ve got a couple of good mates, yeah.’
She stroked Rowdy’s cheek, her back still to him. ‘And lots of girlfriends, I bet.’
Aaron wanted to get off this topic. It made him nervous. He needed to keep things impersonal between them.
‘Not as many as I’d like,’ he joked.
Her hand stilled. ‘Do you have one now?’
‘Nope. Are you going to let that horse get some sleep?’
‘I suppose I’d better.’ She spent a few seconds fussing over Rowdy before stepping out of the stable. She looked him up and down.
‘You’re all dressed up.’
He smiled grimly. ‘Bank meeting.’
‘Oh. I hope it goes okay.’
Aaron shrugged. ‘It won’t be any worse than usual.’ And it wouldn’t be. The couple of placings he’d achieved at the last race meeting were enough to keep his head above water. And Sophie’s contra deal with the hay was a godsend.
Fortunately, the bank manager owned shares in a racing syndicate, and although his expensively bred, city-trained thoroughbreds were a far cry from Aaron’s gallopers, he at least appreciated the fickle nature of racing and understood fortunes could turn in a heartbeat. The bank manager would do his duty, though, and nag him about the usual things. The amount Aaron forked out for the rent on Danny’s flat for one. Aaron didn
’t want to pay for his jockey’s accommodation either, but it was that or have the blackmailing little bastard living at Hakea Lodge. That wasn’t going to happen again. Ever. It was hard enough getting rid of him the first time round.
Sophie nodded, told Aaron she’d see him tomorrow and headed for her car.
On impulse, as she reached for the door, he called to her. She waited until he walked over, eyeing him with curiosity.
He swallowed, suddenly feeling stupid, like a bumbling teenager trying to ask a girl out for the first time. He shoved his hands in his pockets to stop them fidgeting, and kicked at the ground, dirtying his clean boots.
She waited, her frown deepening as he struggled to get the words out.
‘You do have friends, Sophie. You have me.’
‘Do I?’
He nodded.
She stared at him for a second and then with a smile, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into his chest. At first he stood stiff and unsure, but as her soft body pressed against him, the awkwardness passed. He relaxed enough to pull his hands from his pockets and carefully fold his arms around her, surprised at how good it felt, like he was giving her the comfort he’d always wanted to. A tiny touch of humanity and kindness as reparation for his sins.
Friendship was good. He could cope with that.
The sky wept drizzle and blanketed the racecourse in granite-coloured gloom. Beside Aaron, Sophie shivered and screwed up her nose against the misty rain. Aaron knew how she felt. Mornings like this were one of the worst things about training, and there was never any respite. The horses had to be galloped regardless of the weather.
He put a hand over his mouth to smother a yawn. Christ, he was tired. With one ear constantly tuned to the yard, he was naturally a light sleeper, but the previous night every creak of the house, rustle of wind and snort of a horse had woken him. He couldn’t settle, lying on his back staring at the ceiling and ruminating over Sophie’s lack of friends while his body ached with the need for sleep.
‘You look tired,’ she said.
‘Bad night’s sleep.’
Although he held his binoculars to his eyes as he watched another trainer’s horse gallop, he could sense her worried stare.
‘Didnt it go well with the bank? ’
‘No worse than normal.’ He dropped the binoculars. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’d sell myself before I’d let Hakea Lodge go under.’
She smiled a little. Would you?’
He nodded. ‘You bet. I probably wouldn’t get any takers, but it’d be worth a try.’
‘I don’t know about that.’ She nudged him. Tm sure old Mrs Carpenter would love a piece of you.’
Aaron groaned. Brenda Carpenter was an extremely wealthy, highly eccentric local widow, who seemed to think the district’s young men found her irresistible. Aaron had once had the dubious pleasure of being chased into the men’s toilets of a local watering hole by the oversexed septuagenarian.
‘I’d never be able to perform.’
Sophie grinned. ‘Don’t worry. I’d save you.’
‘You would?’
‘Of course. You’re no good to me exhausted all the time. Who’d train the horses? Anyway, I may not be filthy rich like Mrs Carpenter, but I bet even I could afford your gigolo’s fee.’
‘Are you sure about that, Soph? A bloke like me comes pretty expensive.’
‘How expensive?’
He puffed out his cheeks. ‘Oh, I dunno. Twenty bucks?’
‘What? An hour?’
He shook his head, grinning. ‘Nah. A night.’
She burst out laughing and he had the ridiculous idea of kissing her, of putting his mouth to hers and breathing in her laughter, as if he could steal it from her and make it his own.
He waited for her to sober up. ‘Do you reckon I’m over-selling myself?’
She shook her head, her eyes luminous. ‘Definitely under, Aaron. Definitely under.’
And even though she was joking, Aaron felt as though she’d once again wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face into his chest.
With trackwork over and breakfast eaten in Hakea Lodge’s warm kitchen, Aaron sent Sophie outside to play with Rowdy while he made a few phone calls. Though still cold, a breeze had risen, driving the worst of the early morning drizzle eastward. Between the racing clouds, scraps of sun appeared, helping to dry the yard. It wouldn’t have mattered if it was still freezing. Sophie took any chance available to spend time with Rowdy and Costa Motza.
Ten minutes later, he found her leaning against the half-door chattering to the horse, arm stretched as she caressed Rowdy’s neck. The flickering sunshine shot Sophie’s mousy hair with pretty, pale-gold highlights. Her shirt had come loose, and he caught a glimpse of white as each reach of her arm caused her snug-fitting fleecy jumper to pull up, dragging the shirt with it. Aaron crossed the yard, unable to take his eyes off that tiny patch of skin.
As he approached, Sophie didn’t move, her attention focused on Rowdy. Aaron halted, his throat feeling rough as he sucked in cool air. He closed his eyes but the image of her skin stayed, like his mind had taken a photograph. He opened them again, staring at her as if he’d never seen female flesh before. Oblivious to his scrutiny and still happily chattering, Sophie reached up higher to fondle Rowdy’s ears, rucking her jumper up even further.
If he waited long enough, she’d turn around, break the enchantment, but Aaron didn’t want her to. Holding his breath, he took another step forward and slowly reached out, his fingers hovering over that small exposed area on her side.
Very gently, he brushed his fingertips against her skin.
She jumped and then giggled, twisting around to face him. ‘That tickled!’
‘I didn’t know you were ticklish.’
‘I’m not,’ she said quickly. ‘Not really. Only a little bit.’
Ticklish. The idea sent Aaron’s heartbeat racing. With a grin, he snuck out his hands. Sophie’s eyes widened and she shook her head.
‘Don’t even think about it!’
But it was all Aaron could think of. Though Sophie jammed her arms against her sides and tried to duck away, he was too fast. He grabbed her, locking one arm around her chest and pattering the fingers of his other hand up and down the edges of her flat stomach. She squealed before breaking into uncontrollable giggles, her mouth wide and her grey eyes enormous.
Twisting and wriggling around to face him, she attempted to get him back, risking exposure of her ribs as she attacked. He wasn’t ticklish – not like Sophie – but the sheer fun of playing around had him laughing with her, their voices echoing around the yard.
Laughter clutched at Aaron’s belly and stole his ability to concentrate. Sensing her advantage, Sophie increased her attack. She ducked and swerved, giggling as he tickled harder. With a lunge, she threw herself at his chest and raced her hands over his sides. As he tried to push her away, their arms tangled, then their legs. Aaron reached for something to balance himself but the only thing was Sophie. He stumbled, accidentally dragging her with him, her weight causing him to overbalance. They fell, landing on their backs, chests heaving, grinning like idiots.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked when he could get the words out.
‘Fine.’ She turned her head toward him, her mouth and eyes still wide with laughter. ‘Never been better.’
Hanging over the door, Rowdy peered down his long nose at them before snorting and tossing his head in disgust. Sophie raised her head to poke her tongue at him and, despite the wet ground, flopped back down again.
‘God, I haven’t laughed so much in ages.’
Aaron smiled at her. ‘You should do it all the time.’
She slid her hand across the space between them and touched the tip of her little finger to his, causing his nerves to buzz as if they’d been electrified. ‘So should you.’
He closed his eyes. He should get up. Stop this nonsense. But the moment was too perfect.
‘I suppose we s
hould do some work,’ he said after too many seconds had passed. Damp was seeping through his jeans and jumper. He didn’t want Sophie catching a chill, plus they still had horses to ride out and the morning was slipping away.
‘I suppose we should. My bum’s getting wet.’ But she made no move.
Aaron propped onto his elbow and twisted to look at her. She lay on her back with her eyes closed, pale skin like porcelain, smiling at the sky.
‘Thanks,’ he said.
Eyelids flicking open, she frowned. ‘What for?’
He shrugged, suddenly embarrassed, and looked away, heat crawling across his cheeks. ‘I don’t know. For making me laugh.’ He swallowed and refocused on her. ‘For being you.’
The frown faded and her mouth parted slightly, then a shy smile broke over her face like spring sunshine. And with that single look his embarrassment disappeared, smothered by the addictive thrill of knowing that for a few too-short moments, he’d made her happy.
It wasn’t until they were riding out that Aaron found the courage to ask the question that had been nagging him since the day before.
He’d wanted to ask her in the dim light of the track, where she wouldn’t be able to see his face clearly, but his nerve had failed him. Then at breakfast, she’d been so engrossed in some farm magazine article on bloat prevention in cattle, he hadn’t wanted to interrupt her reading, and at morning tea he’d been too tied up with nominations. Now he’d run out of excuses, and the tickling episode had only made his need for an answer worse.
He just had to find the guts to ask.
He looked at Sophie on Psycho and shook his head. The once-lunatic gelding now behaved like a besotted donkey whenever she was on board. When he’d asked her what she’d done to his horse she’d laughed and said she wished she knew, because Buck certainly wasn’t under the same spell.
Pollyester Girl, the horse he was riding, was another of Tony Johnstone’s gallopers – the half-sister to Pollyanna he had wanted for himself but couldn’t afford to buy when she came up for sale. An injury had interrupted her autumn preparation and though Aaron felt a spell would be better for the horse, Tony insisted she finish her campaign. He should have given her to Sophie to ride, but he’d wanted an excuse to trail behind the much fitter Psycho if things became awkward.
