by Leigh Hutton
13
Angel of Good, or Evil?
‘What the hell are you doing here, Francesca?’ Gerald stalked into the lounge room from the kitchen, his silver hair shining in the dim light, eyes narrowed to daggers and set in dark rings of exhaustion.
‘It’s Fia now,’ the woman said, leading Tully into the house. ‘Wanted to make it without you sending me ill wishes.’
Tully let go of the woman’s hand and stepped to the side, pleading with her eyes to her father. Her whole body had dropped with the weight of confusion and dread. What the heck is going on?!
‘You stole the money she’d been saving to get to Melbourne, and you left.’ Gerald sat down heavily in his chair, his hands clearly shaking. He pressed his fingers to his temples. ‘The week after your father died. You left her here, pregnant and heart broken. Now, fifteen years later, you have the nerve to show your face!’
‘We were saving the money together, Gerald,’ the woman said, taking a seat in the rickety chair in the far corner, across from him. ‘And I fully intended to return it, with interest. I just needed some time.’
Gerald groaned, sunk lower in his chair. ‘This is the last thing I need right now, Francesca!’ he boomed, raising his hands to heaven.
‘She wasn’t getting out of here, Gerald, and you know it. I tried to pay her back. I tried twice, just a few years later. She wouldn’t have it—damn Athens pride.’
‘Not a trait you share,’ Gerald scoffed. ‘But then, you’re always been a survivor, haven’t you? You changed your name, moved to Melbourne, gained a lot of weight by the sights of it and sank your teeth into the best trainer in the business, to claw your way to the top. ’
The woman laughed heartily. ‘Always were one for nailing it on the head, you were. And not afraid to say what you thought, either,’ she said. ‘It didn’t happen exactly in that order, but yes, I made the money and forged a career, and my little sister never spoke to me again. I didn’t change my name until after you all refused to speak to me, or even allowed me to come back and meet the baby. Cruel. But I’m not here to reminisce,’ she said, setting her bag on the floor. ‘I’ve brought the money back, with a considerable amount of interest. From what I hear, you are in need of it.’ She smiled at his look of surprise. ‘Yes, I do listen to what’s happening round the traps now and then. But more importantly, it’s time I met my gorgeous niece. Don’t let her grow up with no one, Gerald, certainly not on account of mistakes we all made well before her time.’
Gerald stared into space for what felt to Tully like an hour or more, before turning to the woman and rising from his chair. He shoved his hands into his pockets, glaring down on her, before shaking his head and heading for the kitchen. He stopped when he reached the doorway, rested against the frame for support, turning back to her. ‘Thank you for returning the money,’ he said. ‘Interest won’t be necessary. Dahlia would never have accepted it, or wanted it. In terms of my daughter, she is sixteen, or near as makes no difference. I’ve vowed to let her make her own decisions from now on, and no matter how badly I’d like to take that back at this moment, I would like to remain a man of my word.’
Tully’s legs went wobbly, her head spinning around the room. I have an aunt?! She thought, her eyes creeping across to the woman in the corner. Mum had a sister? And she’s in the business?!
The woman’s words, ‘She wasn’t getting out of here . . .’ flashed into Tully’s mind, sending her thoughts reeling. I’m the reason Mum never got to race the Melbourne Cup!
Because she got pregnant with me!
A immense wave of guilt and shame and sadness for her mother’s lost dreams swamped Tully as she fought the burning, sick taste rising into her mouth and tears tickled at her throat. She crossed the room to be next to her father.
‘Tully can decide if she wants to get to know you, Francesca,’ he said, then he turned to Tully and her heart leapt as he stared weakly into her eyes, tears cutting trails down his stubbly cheeks. ‘I’m sorry your mother’s gone, Tully. I didn’t want it to be like this; it isn’t fair to you and I know I’m no help.’ He rested a hand on her shoulder, then dropped his head and retreated to his room.
‘Wait—Dad!’ Tully cried, following him down the hall. ‘I don’t know what to do!’
‘You’re a smart girl, Tully. You’ll figure it out.’
His door shut in her face.
Tully leant against the door, slid to the floor. She put her hands over her mouth, trying to contain the sobs, but her body shook and shivered and burned with rage and frustration and fear.
‘I won’t impose,’ Fia said gently. ‘I’m sorry for the scene.’ She reached for Tully’s knee, squeezed it once. ‘Is there someone I can call?’
Tully gritted her teeth, shook her head.
‘I’ll stay in the spare room, if that’s okay? I wouldn’t want to crowd you, but it seems the thing to do, just until your dad’s feeling a bit better?’
‘We’ll be okay,’ Tully said, sucking in a breath through her teeth, the emotion crashing down on her with renewed force. ‘But, why have I never met you?’
‘I tried to make it happen, darling.’ Fia knelt down in front of Tully. A floral scent as sweet as jacarandas wafted from the silk waves of her dress. ‘Then time got away from me, and it wasn’t until I heard of your mother’s death that I woke up. I’m so sorry, Tully. I’ll go.’
‘I . . .’ Tully couldn’t meet the woman’s eyes. ‘Don’t go.’
‘Oh, sweetie,’ Fia laughed lightly, ‘I’ve missed nearly sixteen years, I’m not going far. I’ve got a holiday unit at Surfer’s Paradise—it might be more appropriate if I stay there. But I’ll come back tomorrow, okay? I’ve heard that you came across a filly. I’d love to see her.’
Tully nodded briskly.
‘I’ll come back tomorrow morning, if that’s alright? Your dad will settle down. It’s the holidays, after all. A time for family, and love, and forgiveness.’
Tully sniffed, wiped her nose and eyes with the back of a hand. ‘I’d love to introduce you to Dahlia—’ she snapped her lips shut after the name had tumbled from her lips and froze, hoping her father hadn’t heard. Everyone had been careful to just call her ‘filly’ around Gerald.
Fia smiled and a single tear rolled out of each of her eyes, taking with it a great glob of black mascara. ‘You’re amazing, Tully,’ she said. ‘Just like she was.’
Tully didn’t know when to expect Fia the next morning. The fact she had an aunt just wouldn’t sink in, didn’t seem real. With no sign of visitors after the morning feed, Tully was starting to think the day before had indeed been a strange crazy dream as she glanced down the driveway, on her way to turn Greg and Frangi out.
Tully was trying to remember the woman’s face as she lead Dahlia down the internal road to her new paddock, under the branches of one of the ancient jacarandas lining the drive. All of the flowers had dropped into the dirt, their lovely mauve colour fading to brown, the branches of the trees left like skeletons all the way up the driveway. Dahlia was now strong enough to be turned out and was settling in nicely next to Wheeler 8, a big solid chestnut – one of Mr. Barnes’s horses who was out for a spell.
Tully had just released Dahlia into her paddock when a black Range Rover came tearing up the driveway, pulled into the internal road. Tully braced herself for Pearce Weston to slide out, but the red hair was unmistakable. Tully did have an aunt. And it appeared she was here to stay, for now anyway.
‘Good hind end,’ Fia said, leaning against the rail next to Tully. She was dressed more casually today, in jeans, leather boots, a blouse and pearls. Tully could imagine her trackside now.
Bucko joined them at the rail. ‘Fia,’ he said, slotting in next to Tully. ‘Been wonderin’ when we’d see you around here. How ya bin?’
‘Going round and round, you know how it is.’
‘Gerald isn’t too happy about you bein’ here.’
‘Understandable. I’m hoping to butter him up at dinne
r tomorrow night.’
‘Luck with that,’ Bucko said.
‘Nice little filly you found there.’
‘Isn’t she what,’ Bucko said, his stance softening. ‘Loves Tully something fierce, too.’
‘What have you got her on?’
‘The usual, but we do slip her a bit extra—two chaff, two corn, and two oats. With her hay, morning and afternoon.’
‘I can get you some bran with molasses for her afternoon feed, and some more salt and bicarbonate, if you’d like?’ Fia said, her eyes lighting up. ‘Also, some Muscle-E, Livermore, and I’d start giving her two cups of water with honey in her morning feed – will moisten it up and give her a nice new taste. Oh, and some oil to get that coat shining. And I’d love to get my personal vet and farrier out for you too, if that would be alright, Tully?’
Tully stammered to portray her appreciation. ‘Wow . . . Thank you.’
‘That would be very generous,’ Bucko said.
‘Least I can do.’
Bucko squeezed Tully’s arm. ‘I’d better leave you ladies to it.’
Fia smiled, and Tully caught a glimpse of her mother’s broad smile, of her own smile, in her aunty’s rounded face.
Tully bit her bottom lip and glanced across the paddocks to the jagged line of the mountains. The sun was rising slowly, spreading across a never-ending blue sky streaked with thin clouds. A galah landed not far from them, chirped in the cute little way they do, then waddled along, pecking the dirt for some grain. Its partner landed not long after, joining in.
‘She’s cute,’ Fia said, turning back to Tully.
‘We sure think so.’
‘I’ll get my guys out from the Gold Coast. Would tomorrow suit?’
‘Oh, yes please . . . Fia, ta. So, you’ve got horses here, and in Melbourne?’
‘Won’t get to the top without racing wherever you can, whenever you can, Tully. Magic Millions is huge now. That, and I love the Goldie.’
‘That’s exciting.’
‘Seen your father this morning?’
‘He was down at the office early,’ Tully said. ‘I wasn’t expecting him to surface, to be honest. I was really relieved to see him.’
‘He’ll be right,’ Fia said, running her eyes down the row of paddocks. ‘Place’s looking good . . . I’m sure you’ve got some questions for me, though, haven’t you?’
Tully’s breath caught in her throat, her body clenching up. She managed a nod. She’d spent the night Googling ‘Fia, Australian horse racing’, and it didn’t take long to work out who she was. Fia Germaine is my aunt. The Fia Germaine. It was still too surreal to believe. ‘Your horse won the Sydney Cup this year,’ Tully said, plucking a piece of rogue hay off the post next to her and wrapping it around her finger. ‘Will you be going for another Melbourne Cup with him?’
‘You follow racing,’ Fia smiled, ‘I’m not surprised – your mother’s daughter. You ride too, I presume?’
Tully nodded.
‘I’ve given the money to your father, but I doubt it’ll be enough to get the family out of serious trouble. Any more news from Pearce’s camp?’
‘Did Dad tell you about that?’
Fia sighed. ‘It’s a small industry, I’m afraid. Word spreads like wildfire—especially when it’s goss about two of the best known families in the sport.’ Fia took Tully’s hands in hers. ‘I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to see you, Tully. I wanted to wait until you were old enough to answer for yourself. But I can leave if you want me to.’
Tully pulled a long stream of air into her lungs and shook her head, then smiled, watching Dahlia rear and squeal at Wheeler. Dahlia tossed her head in annoyance, pranced in a circle, then returned to the fence to bite at the chestnut, then nibble his neck lovingly. ‘She gives the boys hell!’ Tully said.
‘I like her already,’ Fia winked. ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’
Tully’s body stiffened at the question. Heat flared in her cheeks and her stomach tingled with excitement. ‘Um, no,’ she said, cringing at the image of Brandon’s face – there again, maddeningly, smirking within her mind.
‘Mmm, well—who will accompany you to your sweet sixteen, then?’
‘Sorry?’ Tully said, her eyebrows pulling together.
‘I’d like to throw you a party for your sweet sixteen, if that’s okay?’ Fia said. ‘Your birthday’s January first, isn’t it? I’m sure that’s what that birth announcement in the paper said . . . I kept it, you know, all these years. When your mum wouldn’t speak to me, I hoped one day I could at least make amends with you.’
Tully’s stomach tightened and she had a deep, crippling throbbing yearning for her mother. The last thing she wanted to do was betray her mother’s memory, but Tully couldn’t shake a powerful longing to get to know this woman – Fia might have changed her name, but she was still an Athens. Still Tully’s blood.
‘You must have a sweet sixteen,’ Fia continued, ‘And I would absolutely love to be the one to help with it. As big as you want, of course. Can do it here, although you might find it more exciting at my unit on the coast.’
‘Oh, wow,’ Tully said, her body suddenly buzzing. ‘This is all a bit crazy, to be honest, Aunt Fia! And . . . fast. I can’t believe you’re my aunty, I mean.’
Fia laughed heartily, slinging an arm around Tully’s shoulders. ‘We will have plenty of time to talk, my girl, and you’ll be able to ask me everything. I have so much to tell you, and you have so much to tell me. But let’s get this horse of yours sorted first, eh, then we’ve got a Christmas dinner to help organise, and a sweet sixteen to plan!’
14
Takeoff
Fia’s farrier pulled up in his ute first thing Christmas Eve, Fia following in her Range Rover. Tully had two days off work for Christmas and had fed Dahlia, picked out her stall, and spent about an hour grooming and pampering the filly. Dahlia’s coat was really starting to shine and her ribs were less apparent. Tully had been brushing her mane, forelock and tail every day and they were starting to thicken up enough to be trimmed straight.
Dahlia raised her head when Fia and the farrier approached the stable, darting back in her stall. ‘Easy, girl,’ Tully said, tightening her hold on the lead rope. ‘Might do her feet in here, if that’s okay, please?’
‘Of course,’ the farrier said, pausing in the doorway of the stall. ‘Hey there, little darlin’,’ he said with the slight drawl of a north Queenslander. He pushed his hand into the front pocket of his jeans, slipped out a few sugar cubes. His front-leather chaps were worn, his boots scuffed nicely – Tully sensed he knew what he was doing.
‘This one’s a real charmer,’ Fia said, squeezing the broad man round on the waist. ‘Hopefully our girl will let him work on her.’
Tully put a hand on the side of Dahlia’s face, stroking her soothingly, speaking softly, as the farrier approached, his hand outstretched with the sugar resting in his palm. ‘Steady, darlin’,’ he said, an easy grin slipping across his ruddy face.
Tully smiled. ‘Thanks so much for coming.’
‘My pleasure, doll,’ he said. ‘It’s Shannon, by the way—Queen Fee’s never the best with intros.’
‘Hardy-har,’ Fia said, resting her arms on the top of the stall.
Dahlia snorted and pawed at the shavings, her neck arched and ears pinned firmly back at this strange new man in front of her. Shannon continued his approach ever so slowly, his words soft and soothing, the sugar resting enticingly in his palm. He held his other hand out in surrender, letting the horse know he meant no harm. ‘She’s got the cutest face I think I’ve ever seen,’ Shannon grinned. ‘Look at the ears, aye, Fee?! They curl in like a Friesian’s. And that little muzzle . . .’ He was close enough to touch her. Dahlia sniffed, ears flopping to the side as she felt his hand with her whiskers, then glanced back at Tully for reassurance.
‘Yummy, Dahls,’ Tully said with a grin. ‘Yummy yummy, or I’m gonna eat it.’
Dahlia tossed her nose, paused for a m
oment, then reached forward and licked the sugar off Shannon’s palm. ‘Atta girl,’ he said, closing the gap to her, but turning his body so he wasn’t blocking her exit if she wanted to get away from him. ‘Pretty girl,’ he said, stroking her gently on the nose. ‘Clever girl. Wow, she sure loves you,’ he said, raising his thick eyebrows and nodding at Tully.
Tully beamed, leading Dahlia forward in the stall.
‘Now, you’re gonna to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?’ Shannon said, letting his hand brush down Dahlia’s face; her whiskers; her rare white snip – it was unusual for a thoroughbred to have a splash of white on their nose with no other markings. She nudged him hard in the side, nibbling at his pockets. ‘Ahh,’ Shannon laughed, ‘Want some more, do ya?’ He slipped a few more sugar cubes out of his pocket. Dahlia gobbled them up, ears forward with happiness and contentment. She allowed Shannon to give her a gentle pat, before going to his ute to grab his gear.
Tully stayed at Dahlia’s head while Shannon got to work, holding her still as she hopped forward and kicked free of Shannon’s hands. ‘Whoa,’ he said, letting the filly put her off-hind down. He managed to hold onto it through the next few kicks and got her long, cracking hoof trimmed and a shining new shoe fitted. Dahlia kept him on his toes, dancing to the side and kicking out – it took him about three times longer than normal to get her trimmed up and all her shoes fitted.
Sweat poured off Shannon’s sandy hair and his blue work shirt was drenched by the time he was finished. ‘Wow, I know she’s still under conditioned,’ he said, wiping his brow with the back of a big, callused hand. ‘But this filly needs to get out on the track!’
Tully grinned, patting her like crazy. ‘Such a good girl! Can she please have another sugar cube, or some apple, Aunt Fia? She was such a brave girl.’
‘Of course!’ Fia laughed, swept over to Shannon and slipped her hand into his front pocket, feeling around.
‘Hey, there!’ Shannon laughed, grabbed Fia and pulled her into a bear hug.
