by Cathryn Hein
Aaron placed a hand on the filly’s hot neck and wished Sophie was there to help. The horses seemed to find her chitchat calming and he missed her cheeriness, the blind faith she had in each horse’s ability to win – even a no-hoper like Costa Motza.
He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since he’d waved her off on Friday. He’d bent to kiss her, just to wish her luck at Lake Ackerman, but she’d turned her face and he’d caught the edge of her mouth with his lips. He’d jerked away, mumbling apologies, but she’d stood there in the yard staring at him with a dopey smile and flushed cheeks, and even though he knew it was completely insane, all he’d wanted to do was kiss her properly.
He sighed and looked toward the jockeys’ room, wishing they’d hurry up, but there was no sign of them. The stewards were probably still having a word. Rough riding and interference had marred race two. They wouldn’t want a repeat.
His mind drifted back to Sophie. Cheerful, clever, tough, spirited, determined, talented. That was the Sophie he’d come to know, and she filled him with emotions he hadn’t felt for years. Emotions he liked far more than he wanted to admit. But he had to keep perspective.
She could be many things, but she was still Sophie Dixon, the living, breathing reminder of all the lives he’d damaged.
The jockeys emerged from their room. Todd Markham’s prune face was soon looking up at Aaron, waiting for instructions. Aaron didn’t like Todd, but he’d booked him because he was a good rider and Pollyanna needed an experienced jockey on her back to get her across the line.
‘Keep her close to the front,’ he instructed. ‘She’s got a hell of a burst of speed, but I think it’ll be a few weeks before she’s at peak fitness. She might tire if you go too early.’
Todd nodded. ‘Sure thing, boss.’
Aaron gave him a leg-up, keeping hold of Pollyanna as Todd sorted himself out and found the stirrups. When the jockey was set, Aaron gave Pollyanna’s nose a rub and let her go. She tossed her head and followed the horse in front out onto the track, breaking into a canter as she passed the judges’ box. Aaron shoved her lead in the jacket pocket of his race-day suit and headed toward the finishing post.
The brunette was leaning against the rail chatting to her friend and posing, as if this were Royal Ascot instead of Penola. Aaron stopped and studied her. She was pretty, in an over-made-up way, with perfectly manicured fingernails, expensive clothes and shoes so high she had to keep her weight on her toes to prevent the heels sinking into the grass. He could imagine her picking her way daintily through manure with her lips pursed, complaining about the smell, the horsehair on her coat, the muck on her shoes. And what was he supposed to talk to her about? Racing? She’d be bored to tears in ten minutes.
The brunette’s companion noticed him staring and nudged her friend, but when the brunette turned and smiled, he shook his head and walked away.
As the sun set over Hakea Lodge, Aaron took a can of beer from the fridge and walked out to the verandah to watch its descent and ponder the day. Chilly air bit his cheeks but he had grown up in the cold, and he barely noticed the sting. Rowdy whickered at him from the warmth of his stable, no doubt hoping for a scratch or a treat. When he realised Aaron wasn’t about to spoil him like Sophie, the horse turned away in a sulk.
Aaron sat on the step with his beer beside him and his mobile in his hand, idly scrolling through his contacts until Sophie’s name appeared on the screen. He stared at it, and before he could stop himself, hit the green button.
The call went straight through to her voice mail.
‘Hey, Sophie. It’s Aaron.’ He stopped. What the hell was he calling her for anyway? ‘I’ll talk to you Monday,’ he said, and then quickly hung up. He took a gulp of beer, his face burning.
Thirty seconds later, the mobile rang. Sophie’s name flashed at him. He stared at it, his stomach somersaulting, and thought about not answering, but the lure of hearing her voice was too much.
‘Hey, Soph.’
‘Are you all right? Is Rowdy okay? Costa Motza?’ She sounded breathless.
‘Everything’s fine. Costa Motza’s alive and well and I’m looking at Rowdy right now. Well, I’m looking at his backside. He’s sulking because I’m not giving him any attention. So it’s situation normal here. I just thought I’d call to let you know Pollyanna won.’
‘I know! I listened to the race on the radio. She was wonderful. You must be so proud, but you know the best thing?’
He smiled. ‘What?’
‘I just checked my TAB account and I’m three hundred and seventy-two dollars and thirty-five cents richer!’
He laughed. ‘That’s great, Soph. But I reckon I can beat that. Pollyanna made three grand and I scored a case of the sponsor’s wine, so I was thinking maybe you and I could grab a couple of steaks and try a bottle one night.’ The words tumbled out of his mouth unbidden. He closed his eyes and banged his head softly against the verandah post. What was he thinking?
There was a long pause, and when she spoke, he could picture the shy smile behind her words. ‘I’d really like that, Aaron. Thanks.’
The pleasure in her voice sent his heart hiccupping. ‘So what about your day?’
‘Up and down.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do about Buck. He hates me. His dressage test was terrible and he knocked up a cricket score in the showjumping. I don’t want to sell him, but I don’t know what else to do.’
‘He’ll come good, you’ll see,’ he said, trying to cheer her up. ‘What about Chuck?’
‘Oh, he was wonderful! It’s almost like he knows this could be his last event. You should have seen him in the dressage. He was amazing. Even his counter canter was brilliant and that’s always been his worst movement, and then in the showjumping, he just bounced around like the jumps weren’t there. He’s such a superstar.’
‘So where does that put you?’
‘In the lead, but only by two and a half penalties. We can’t afford to put a foot wrong tomorrow in the cross-country. We have to go clear, and we have to go fast, but the weather isn’t looking too good. I don’t know how we’ll go if it gets slippery.’
‘I’m sure you’ll do great.’
‘I hope so. I really want him to win. I just wish Mum was here to see it.’
Aaron’s heart constricted, gripped by an invisible clawed hand. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Every breath sent the talons deeper into his chest.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
‘Aaron?’
He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned forward, his hand tight around the phone’s plastic shell, his breath held to stop his gasps. This is what he’d left her with. An aching hollow that would never be filled.
‘Aaron, are you there?’
He pulled the phone away from his ear and pressed it hard against his side, then exhaled in a shuddering heave. He forced himself to take a couple of deep, long breaths. It was half a minute before he felt able to speak.
‘I’m sorry Sophie. Something’s come up,’ he said, straining to keep his voice even. ‘I’ll catch you later.’
‘Aar—’
He hung up.
As the sun slid away and the yard dissolved into darkness, Aaron stayed on the verandah staring at nothing. Cold seeped in through the cheap fabric of his race-day suit, but still he didn’t move. It wasn’t until he started shivering uncontrollably that he forced himself into the warmth of the house. The barely touched can of beer stayed on the verandah, slowly turning flat.
Aaron’s skin turned red under the heat of the shower and he cursed himself for being stupid enough to sit in the freezing cold, brooding over something he couldn’t change. Who’d look after the horses if he became sick? Who’d train them? Race them? Feed them? Hakea Lodge would be broke within a month.
Stepping from the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist, he headed for the kitchen where his jeans and an old rugby jumper were warming by the combustion stove.
He was
halfway across the room when he saw her. She’d made herself at home. A tumbler full of red wine sat on the table in front of her, a half-drunk bottle alongside. He glanced at the label. Redgrove Estate, the race sponsor’s brand. The wine he’d asked Sophie to share with him. The box sat on the kitchen bench where he’d left it, except now the cardboard flaps gaped where they’d been torn open.
‘Well, well, well,’ said Tess. ‘Haven’t you grown up?’
Aaron glared at her. ‘What are you doing here?’
Tess picked up her glass and downed the contents in three gulps. She nodded her approval before reaching for the bottle. With one hand holding the towel around his waist, Aaron used the other to snatch it away from her. She shrugged and sat back, smiling.
‘I’ve come to talk about Sophie.’
He placed the bottle on the sink and under cover of the towel pulled on his jeans and quickly tugged the jumper over his head.
‘What about Sophie?’
Tess casually walked over to the sink, picked up the wine and carried it back to her seat. She eyed him as she topped up her glass.
‘Her father and I are very concerned about her.’
Aaron snorted. No doubt they were concerned. He knew every secret rattling around in the Dixon family closet. Secrets no one had ever bothered to tell Sophie.
‘Are you worried about what I might tell her?’
Tess took a sip of wine and eyed him. ‘Possibly.’
‘I suppose Ian’s shit-scared I’ll tell her about him and my mother. Why is it such a bloody big secret anyway? They’ve been together for ten years.’
‘To protect Sophie, of course. She’s very…’ Tess clicked her tongue and raised her eyes as if searching for the right word. ‘Sensitive.’
‘She’s twenty-two. I’m sure she can handle it.’
He reached for the bottle, wanting to wrap his lips around the neck and pour wine down his gullet like his father had once done. Something about Sophie’s aunt made his skin crawl. It wasn’t that she was ugly. When she put in the effort you could almost call her handsome. Tonight, she’d styled her hair into a loose but neat bun at the back of her head and attempted to cover her worst of her reddened skin with makeup. But her hair looked dull and brittle, and though she’d used eyeliner and mascara to highlight eyes as startlingly grey as Sophie’s, they bore none of her sweetness. Her clothes looked clean, but they hung off her thin frame, and the hand she held around her glass seemed more birdlike than human. If Tess’s aim was to appear normal, she’d failed. Aaron recognised her demon too well.
Tess sighed. ‘Oh dear. She obviously hasn’t told you about her illness. Poor thing. Such a disturbed child.’
Aaron stared at her, his heart beating hard. ‘What are you on about?’
‘Just like her mother. It does make you wonder if this sort of thing isn’t genetic.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sure you can understand our concern.’
Aaron wanted to choke the words out of her. ‘What are you talking about?’
Tess smiled and patted the seat next to her as though this was her house and not his. ‘Pour yourself a drink and sit down, and sit tell you all about it.’
‘I’ll stand, thanks,’ he said, upending the bottle he still held into an old Vegemite glass. He moved toward the stove but then thought better of it. It’d only make him hotter and angrier than he already felt. ‘Spit it out,’ he said. ‘I don’t have all night.’
‘But, Aaron, I think you do. When it comes to our Sophie, I think you have all the time in the world.’
‘Get on with it, Tess, or get out. I’m not in the mood for games.’
‘I’m ashamed to say that Sophie suffers from severe depression. Her illness is acute, suicidally acute. The first time she tried to kill herself, she came very close to succeeding. If I hadn’t found her when I did, she’d be dead.’
Unable to look at Tess, Aaron stared into the deep burgundy depths of his wine. He wanted her to stop, but he also had to know. The more he heard, the more he suffered. And suffering was what he deserved.
His throat felt raw. ‘When was this?’
‘The first time? When she was fifteen.’
Fifteen. The age when she’d last had a boyfriend.
‘What do you mean, “the first time”? How many times are we talking about?’
Tess shifted her eyes from his. ‘Quite a few.’
He swallowed. Why?’
She held out her glass. ‘Confession is such thirsty work.’
Aaron felt like he had no choice but to top it up.
Tess smiled her thanks. ‘The first time it was over some totally unsuitable boy she had a crush on. She was going through this rebellious stage. Attention-seeking, of course.’
‘Are you talking about her rebelling or her suicide attempt?’
‘Both, I should imagine.’
‘But you said she almost succeeded. It sounds like she meant it.’
Tess shrugged. ‘Maybe she did. You’d have to ask her about that.’
Aaron intended to. ‘And what about the other times?’
‘No idea,’ said Tess, inspecting the sleeve of her jumper.
Aaron watched her closely. Was Tess lying?
She plucked at a tiny ball of matted wool and dropped it on the floor. ‘Probably something to do with her father. Who knows? Maybe she just wants to follow in her mother’s footsteps, so to speak.’
Tess’s flippancy made Aaron sick. This was Sophie they were talking about. The smiling girl who made him laugh, who bought useless horses from knackers for him to train, who was willing to work for nothing because she’d fallen in love with a steeplechaser. The girl Tess described bore no resemblance to the Sophie he knew. Although sometimes full of self-doubt, his Sophie was determined, resilient and tough. Tess was talking about a stranger.
Or was she? Aaron had seen that twelve-year-old girl Sophie kept so expertly hidden, but did that make her as damaged as her aunt alleged? He wanted to call her, to ask if it was true, but first he had to deal with Tess.
‘So what’s all this got to do with me?’
Tess leaned forward. ‘There’s to be a shake-up in the ministry in the next few weeks. Ian’s tipped to take over Agriculture.’
‘And you’re frightened Sophie might cause a scandal?’
Tess nodded.
‘Get out.’
‘Pardon?’ said Tess, blinking at him.
Aaron pointed to the door. ‘I said get out.’
‘I haven’t finished.’
Two strides and he was in front of her. He yanked the glass from her hand and threw it in the sink. It shattered on impact. Tess jumped. Aaron grabbed her by the jumper, stretching it as he forced her to stand.
He let her go. ‘I’m giving you ten seconds to get out that door. One. Two. Three.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, calm down.’
‘Four.’
Tess stared at him, and he saw the fear in her eyes. Good. She should be scared, because right now he could strangle her with his bare hands.
‘Five.’
She took a step backwards, and stood with her palms held up to him. ‘Just listen for a minute. Sophie’s sick. She’s been under the care of a doctor for years. Anything could set her off.’
Aaron ignored her. ‘Six.’
Suddenly, Tess’s demeanour changed. Fright morphed into guile and she started to laugh. ‘Oh my God. You’ve fallen for her, haven’t you? You’re in love with the daughter of the man you hate. The irony!’
Aaron kept his face blank. He wanted this monster out of Hakea Lodge. He needed her out, before the seal on his rage melted and spewed his hatred throughout his house.
‘Seven.’
Tess poked a finger toward his chest. ‘You don’t frighten me, Aaron Laidlaw. You’re nothing. The son of a horse-doping drunk and a whore.’
His hands clenched into fists. ‘Eight.’
‘I should have left Sophie bleeding in that bath,’ she spat. ‘At least I’d have e
scaped this place.’
Aaron breathed in deeply through his nose, trying to keep calm. ‘Nine,’ he said, but his voice was cracking. What sort of monster had Sophie had to endure all these years?
They stared at each other, their mutual loathing curdling the air. Then Tess’s bravado failed and she wilted as though poisoned by her own bile. With a turned-down mouth, she regarded Aaron with defeat in her eyes. ‘You of all people should know when Ian sets his sights on something nothing stands in his way. Don’t fight him. You won’t win. Trust me, I know.’
He didn’t need to count the last number. With that warning Tess left, a different woman, but Aaron felt no pity. Whatever her issue was, he had no time for it. He waited for her car to fade into the night before dragging out a chair and slumping into it. He pressed his forehead hard into his hands, trying to erase what he’d heard.
How much of it was true? If any? Tess could be bullshitting about Sophie for all he knew.
Despite any rumours you might hear and all appearances to the contrary, I’m actually not screwed up. At least, not any more.
Sophie had told him she was fine, but what if she was lying? What if she wasn’t fine at all?
The only thing he’d managed to determine from the whole miserable mess was that Tess hated her brother just as much as she hated Sophie. All Ian Dixon cared about was his career, all Tess cared about was herself, and no one, it seemed, cared about Sophie. No one.
Except for him.
Tess was right. The irony of it was unbelievable.
Nine
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six …
Sophie kept her breathing steady as the timer droned the count-down for the cross-country. Beneath her, Chuck trembled, ready to burst out of the starting box and take the first jump at a gallop. As the numbers dropped, her fingers twitched and curled around the reins. This meant everything to her. Not only could this be her first two-star win, it would do much to repair the confidence Buck’s behaviour was slowly destroying.
