Promises

by Cathryn Hein

  Only when he could no longer hear the bike did Aaron let himself relax. He walked into the kitchen, filled a glass of water and drank it down in gulps. Still the foul taste in his mouth lingered. He refilled the glass and stared at his favourite photograph. Rodger Laidlaw grinned back at him, his arm around the little boy he’d once loved so much.

  ‘I’m sorry Dad,’ he whispered, and then, with a leaden heart, he headed back outside to wait for Sophie.

  Twenty-five

  Sophie stared at the leather head-collar in her hand and grazed her thumb over the shiny engraved brass nameplate fixed to its cheek strap. It seemed so long ago that she was excited by the prospect of bringing Rowdy home, thrilled by the challenge that lay ahead. But now there was no excitement, only heartache, anger and an appalling sense of self doubt.

  How could she have gotten things so wrong?

  All she wanted to do was hide in her room and cry, but that indulgence would have to wait until Rowdy was safe at Vanaheim. Facing Aaron again would take every drop of courage she had, and for that she needed anger, not anguish and pain. With an effort, she blinked her tears away and let resentment, indignation, insulted pride and outrage pile up like kindling for the bonfire of her fury.

  How dare Aaron accuse her of doping Rowdy? How dare he? She could no more hurt a horse than fly it to the moon. If there was any finger-pointing to be done it should be directed right at him. After all, he was the Laidlaw, not her. She grimaced. It was hard to admit but Tess and her father had been right all along. Loving Aaron would only lead to hurt. She could thank her lucky stars their relationship – what there was of it – was now over.

  Inflamed, itching for a fight and with not a single despairing thought to hold her back, she walked out of the tack room with her back straight and her head held high. She was bringing her horse home, and no one had better try to stop her.

  In the distance, someone revved a motorbike. She threw the halter in the float, and leaned against the side door, listening. As it gunned again, she whistled for Sammy and Del. Only one motorbike had that distinctive ning-ning and that was Danny’s, and by the sound of it, he’d turned the bike into Vanaheim’s drive and opened the throttle to flat out.

  The dogs at her heels, she ran into the tack room and, from a hook high up on the wall, took down her grandfather’s old stockwhip. It was heavy – over two and a half metres in length from stock to cracker – and made of fine plaited kangaroo hide. For a brief moment, she fingered the leather but then she took a deep breath and with the lash held looped, she walked back out into the yard.

  Sammy and Del were by her feet and the stockwhip uncoiled when Danny pulled to a halt. Sophie watched him, legs apart, shoulders squared, tense and ready. He removed his helmet and eyed her, then dismounted. The dogs took a pace forward. Danny ignored them, exposing his teeth in an ugly grin while continuing to walk toward Sophie.

  Del growled a warning. Sophie’s fingers tensed around the stockwhip’s handle.

  He halted, shaking his head and making a tutting sound. A trickle of blood leaked from his nose, but he didn’t appear to notice.

  ‘You didn’t listen to me, did you? I warned you the boss was no good, but you wouldn’t believe me. Now you’re all upset.’ He sighed theatrically. ‘Still, it had to come out sometime.’

  ‘You set me up. You doped my horse.’

  ‘Me? I wouldn’t do such a thing. The boss though, well, he knows all about doping horses. Bit of an expert at it, if you must know.’ He tutted again. ‘Terrible the way he let his father take the blame. The old man was as honest as the day is long. Killed him, it did, knowing his own son had nobbled his horses.’

  Sophie narrowed her eyes, her heart crashing against her ribs. ‘What are you on about?’

  Danny slapped his hand over his mouth. ‘Oops. Didn’t you know? Oh, what a shame.’

  Sophie swallowed. Her throat felt raw.

  ‘Well, I can’t say I blame the boss for not telling you. I mean, it’s not something you’d want to let on, is it?’

  He took another step forward. Sammy and Del bared their teeth, their hackles up. Sophie shushed them. She needed to know what Danny was talking about.

  ‘Are you trying to tell me Aaron drugged his father’s horses? I don’t believe you. If anyone was doing any doping, it’d be you.’

  ‘Ah, ain’t that nice. Love really is blind after all,’ he said, his voice sickly saccharine. Then he snarled at her. ‘Of course it was Aaron who doped the horses, you stupid bitch. Speedballs, stoppers, you name it. He used them all. Broke the old man’s heart when he found out.’

  Sophie didn’t want to believe him, but it explained so much – Aarons assertions that his father was innocent, his need for atonement, the terrible secret he harboured that prevented him from loving her. Danny was telling the truth.

  She wanted to cry for Aaron, for herself, but most of all she wanted to know why. Why someone as kind and sensitive as Aaron had done something so terrible, so out of character.

  With an effort, she kept her face blank, unwilling to give Danny the satisfaction of seeing her pain. ‘You know what, Danny? You’re full of it.’

  He sneered at her. ‘I am, am I? Just goes to show how little you know about the boss. He did it all right.’

  ‘Okay, then. You think you know everything. Tell me why. Why would Aaron do something like that?’

  As Danny considered the question, his eyes narrowing with contempt and guile, Sophie realised that whatever he admitted was unlikely to be the truth. The real story would have to come from Aaron.

  ‘For kicks, of course. I told you, the boss ain’t all he’s cracked up to be. He’s got a mean streak.’ He wiped his nose on the back of his hand and looked at it, then focused back on Sophie. ‘A real mean streak. Like his bitch of a mother.’

  That was rubbish and Sophie knew it. If Aaron had drugged his father’s horses, he must have had a compelling reason to do so. He loved horses as much as she did. The only animal he’d be capable of harming with callous indifference was Danny.

  Suddenly, she understood. She pointed to Danny’s nose. ‘He knew it was you all along. That’s why he wanted me out of the way, so he could give you the hiding you deserved.’ She walked toward him, the whip snaking behind her. ‘Looks like you got off lightly. If it were me, you wouldn’t be talking through that smart mouth of yours right now.’ She stopped and then brought the whip up as though she meant to crack it. Danny cringed and shuffled backwards.

  ‘Coward,’ she said, smiling. ‘But then blackmailers always are.’

  Danny gave her a filthy look. ‘It’s the truth.’

  ‘So what? You’re still a blackmailer.’ She cocked her head to one side. ‘What happened to loyalty, Danny, or have you forgotten about that now Aaron’s kicked your skinny arse off Hakea Lodge? Where are you going to go now? From what I can gather, there aren’t many trainers who’d be keen to take you on.’

  She smiled, enjoying herself. She felt safe in the knowledge that Aaron had acted the way he had only out of fear for her. Even if Danny’s doping allegation were true, it wouldn’t matter. She loved Aaron. He loved her. She’d forgive him no matter what he’d done.

  Danny eyed her and then smugly pursed his lips. ‘The boss’11 have me back – you’ll see.’

  ‘I wouldn’t count on it, Danny-boy.’

  ‘Oh yeah? You reckon the stewards wouldn’t be interested in what I’ve got to say?’

  Sophie kept her face impassive, but inside she was boiling. Poor Aaron. That’s what he’d been threatened with for all these years. No wonder he hated Danny.

  ‘Somehow,’ said Sophie with all the nonchalance she could muster, ‘I don’t think they’d believe a word that came out of your mouth. Admit it. You’ve got nothing left to bargain with.’ She rested the whip handle on her shoulder, and regarded him. ‘The way I see it, you’ve got two choices. You can keep your trap shut and maybe find someone stupid enough to take you on, or you can go squealing to the
stewards like the little rat you are.’ She lifted the whip off her shoulder and pointed the knobbed handle end at him. ‘Just remember, the moment you do, it’ll all be over. No one likes a telltale. No one.’

  He shrugged. ‘I might do it just for the fun of seeing the boss go down.’

  ‘But he won’t. I’ll make sure of it.’

  Danny studied her warily. ‘Oh yeah, and how d’you reckon you’ll manage that?’

  ‘Easy. You think my father would be happy about this coming out?’ She smiled, knowing she had him. ‘Dad might dislike Aaron, but he loves Carol, and would do anything to protect her. One phone call warning him that this could all be dragged up again and he’ll be onto you. You’d want to watch yourself then. Only an idiot would cross Dad.’

  ‘You’re bullshitting.’

  ‘Finding his loyalty hard to believe? Well, you would. Because unlike you, you piece of human garbage, we Dixons understand the meaning of it.’

  Danny lunged at her. The dogs didn’t hesitate. They attacked, clamping their teeth down hard into his flesh. Danny bellowed, but kept coming. Sophie didn’t have time to think. She used the only weapon she had. She shoved the knobbed end of the whip handle into his stomach, forcing the breath from his lungs.

  He collapsed to the ground, trying to clutch at his stomach with an arm held fast in Del’s jaw. Sophie called the heelers off. They’d inflicted enough damage. The sleeve of Danny’s shirt was torn and bloodied where Del had locked her teeth. Around his calf, a row of puncture holes neatly circled another bite, the denim of his jeans staining slowly crimson. As if in sympathy, Danny’s nose started to bleed again.

  Sophie looked down at him, panting, adrenaline surging through her veins, and with deliberate menace, tickled the whip’s lash against his cheek. ‘Get off my property.’

  Like a cornered animal, Danny’s top lip curled up, exposing his yellow teeth. He crawled to his knees, his eyes glittery with hatred, and then stood. His hands clenched into fists at his side.

  Sophie stood her ground and drew on the anger she’d cultivated so carefully against Aaron. Sammy and Del monitored Danny with their hackles raised, baring their teeth in a savage imitation of his misshapen snarl.

  His fingers twitched and curled. The dogs growled a warning.

  ‘I wouldn’t, if I were you. Next time I won’t call them off.’

  His eyes dropped to the heelers and then rose back to Sophie.

  ‘Leave. Now.’

  He raised a finger and pointed it at her. She waited for him to speak, but he didn’t. He just glared at her with malignant eyes, his shoulders rising and falling with his heavy stinking breaths. He coughed, the sound bronchial and thick, then hoicked and spat a globule of smoker’s phlegm at her feet. Sophie didn’t flinch.

  ‘You’ll keep, bitch,’ he said, backing up to his bike. ‘You’ll keep.’

  She watched him leave, not allowing herself to relax until the sound of the trail bike had faded into the distance. Only then, when peace had descended on Vanaheim once more, did she fall to her knees and surrender to the fear she’d fought so hard to keep at bay.

  Aaron was where Sophie expected him to be – where he always was when something momentous had happened in his life – sitting on Hakea Lodge’s back step staring out over the yard. She turned off the Range Rover’s engine and smiled at him. He didn’t smile back. Instead, he looked achingly sad. A man who had been on the run from his past for so long that he’d shattered the moment it overtook him.

  She sighed and stepped out of the car, casting a glance at Rowdy’s stable. He wasn’t there. She felt a flare of panic, but then she heard a whicker and knew her big horse was fine. She blew a kiss towards his yard but didn’t go over to pat him. Miffed, he pointed his rump at her. She ignored him and headed for the steps.

  She approached slowly, as if Aaron were a jittery horse that might flee at any moment, her heart squeezing with worry and compassion. He didn’t move, just stared at her with his mouth turned down and his eyes full of that unfathomable guilt she’d grown so used to seeing. Stubble flecked his jaw and his eyes were bloodshot, while his blond hair stuck up in tufts, as though he’d tried to tear hanks of it from his head.

  She knelt in front of him and took his hands. He stared at their entwined fingers for a moment, and then pulled his from her grip as though he couldn’t stand her touch.

  She swallowed and shifted to sit beside him, and, unable to help herself, reached for his hand again.

  ‘Don’t,’ he said.

  Her insides curdled with worry. She didn’t know how to handle this. She didn’t know if he needed her comfort or if he’d be better left alone. Either way, it didn’t matter. She couldn’t go. The thought of leaving him in misery, having him believe she no longer loved him, was worse than enduring his rejection.

  She closed her eyes, wishing, as she had so often in the past, that her mother was alive to help her. But she had no mother, only herself; she’d have to rely on her own strength to get her through, just as she’d done so many times before.

  ‘You knew Danny did it all along,’ she said.

  He ran his hand down his face, and then nodded.

  ‘Why didn’t you just say so?’

  ‘I needed you away from here.’

  ‘So you could beat him up?’

  His head dropped and he stared at his hands.

  She touched his shoulder. ‘You didn’t do a very good job of it. He was still able to walk and talk when he got to Vanaheim.’

  ‘Bastard!’ He turned to her, his eyes roving over her face. ’Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine. I had Sammy and Del, and Pop’s old stockwhip.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, returning his gaze to the yard.

  ‘It’s okay. I’m fine.’

  He shook his head. ‘I should have protected you.’

  ‘Aaron, I’m a big girl. I can look after myself.’ She smiled. ‘I only wish I could have hurt him more.’

  Aaron let out a bitter laugh. ‘Yeah, me too.’

  ‘But you didn’t.’

  ‘He’s half my size.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I hate myself enough as it is without adding that to the list.’

  She grabbed his hand. ‘Don’t say that. I love you. I’ll forgive you anything. Even horse doping.’

  He stared at her. ‘Danny told you?’

  ‘A bit.’ She squeezed his fingers, wanting him to look at her, wanting him to see that it was okay. ‘Talk to me, Aaron. Tell me everything. Let me prove to you that it doesn’t matter.’

  He looked away. ‘That’s not the worst, Sophie.’

  ‘I don’t care.’

  ‘I don’t know where to start.’

  ‘The beginning will do.’

  He pulled his hand from hers and pressed the heel of his palm hard into his forehead. His mo uth twisted, and for a moment, Sophie thought he was going to cry.

  ‘All right,' he said eventually. Sophie saw his chest rise as he took a deep breath. ‘I was fifteen the first time I nobbled a horse. I gave it Danthron. It’s a stopper, a scouring agent, the same one they used on Big Philou before the ’69 Melbourne Cup.’ He looked at her. ‘I got the dose wrong. The horse nearly died.’

  Keeping her eyes locked on his, Sophie swallowed her horror, afraid that if she let it show he’d clam up. ‘Why did you do it?’

  ‘Mum asked me to.’

  She frowned. His mother asked him to? Why would she do that? It didn’t make sense.

  Aaron put his head in his hands and grabbed at his hair. Her hand went to his back, a small comfort when what she really wanted to do was hold him, but the truth had to come out. He’d been burdened with it for long enough.

  ‘Why, Aaron?’

  ‘Mum wanted to leave but she had no money. Everything was tied up in this place. There was already a mortgage on it, not as big as it is now, but from what Mum told me, it was big enough. If she were to get anything, this place would have had to be sold an
d Dad would have fought tooth and nail to stop that happening. Any settlement would have been tied up in the courts for years.’

  ‘But she still could have left. They could have come to some sort of arrangement. Your dad could have paid her drawings from the business or something.’

  He shook his head. ‘She told me that, given the circumstances, Dad wouldn’t have paid her a cent.’

  ‘What circumstances?’

  ‘Come on, Soph. You can’t have forgotten.’

  Realisation dawned. Sophie closed her eyes. ‘My father.’

  ‘Yeah, your father. Our saintly Member of Parliament. I was fifteen and even I could see he was obsessed with her. The longer it went on, the worse he got. Any time they had together was short, so he made sure they put it to good use. I caught them at it. Several times.’ He shook his head. ‘They were so wrapped up in one another they never even noticed.’

  The house phone rang, making them both jump. Neither of them moved, or spoke. The ringing seemed to go on forever. When it ended, the silence was just as unnerving.

  ‘Where was your dad when all this was going on?’ asked Sophie.

  ‘At the races, in the yards, in the paddocks. Wherever the horses were.’

  Sophie remembered Aaron’s comment about his mother hating not being the centre of attention. She didn’t condone Carol Laidlaw’s behaviour, or her father’s, but she did understand a little how hard it was to come second best in the heart of someone who was supposed to love you.

  They were the same, Carol and her father. Carol came second to her husband’s horses. Her father came second to his wife’s mental illness. No wonder their need for each other became obsessive. It must have been like finding an oasis in the middle of a desert. You couldn’t drink from it enough for fear you’d never find another.

  ‘Mum came up with a plan that’d let her quietly leave Dad and move to Canberra to be with Ian,’ continued Aaron. ‘But Mum being Mum, she didn’t want to take responsibility for what she was going to do. She told me Dad would lose the yard if I didn’t help her, and I was stupid enough to believe her.’