by Leigh Hutton
Fia wriggled free, winked at Shannon, then handed a cube of sugar to Tully.
‘Um, thank you!’ Tully said.
Fia burst out laughing and Tully couldn’t help but stare at this bold, beautiful woman who shared her smile.
‘Gimme a call if you ever need anything, Tully,’ Shannon said, scooping her up for a quick hug.
‘Thanks again,’ Tully said. She reached up and pecked him on the cheek. ‘Thank you so much.’
‘My pleasure. Fia—see ya soon, darl.’ He kissed Fia on the cheek, then grabbed his gear and headed down to Greg and Frangi’s paddock to give them a quick trim.
Fia watched Shannon leave. ‘I’ll marry that man one day,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Such a bach, but such a babe.’
‘A bach?’ Tully said.
‘Bachelor . . .’ Fia laughed, patting Tully on the shoulder. ‘Kingston will be here in an hour. He’s much more serious and much less fun, but he’s the best horse vet around.’
Kingston was tall and slim, with small round glasses and a foreign accent. He came with an assistant who looked much the same just in a shorter version, carrying a laptop. Fia said they were both German. It was late in the day when they arrived, and Dahlia was already antsy from being kept in her stall to rest her feet and get accustomed to the new shoes.
Tully’s stomach knotted with apprehension as she watched the vet lift his stethoscope from around his neck and reach forward to press it against her filly’s body, just under where the girth would go . . . This could make it, or break it, she thought, her body trembling with nerves and anticipation as she imagined herself working up the courage to take Dahlia around the track for the first time . . .
Dahlia turned and snapped at the vet, then jumped straight up and went to bolt out of the stables.
Tully’s heart hit the roof, the lead rope ripping from her hands, burning against her palms. ‘WHOA!’ It took all of her strength to keep the filly from taking off out of her stall.
Bucko joined in to help, but as Dahlia was still wary even of him, Kingston asked Fia to finish the examination under his instruction. He asked for constant feedback, which his assistant typed in a steady stream into the laptop. Dahlia snorted, prancing the whole time, her eyes locked on the vet and his assistant and their strange little white van parked beside the stables. Fia felt each of her legs carefully, starting at her hocks, then running down her tendons to her fetlocks.
‘She have zee typical flat, thin sole of zee Thoroughbred,’ Kingston said, staring down his nose at her feet. ‘But her shoes look good, vill help a lot.’
Kingston got within about a metre to peer in and have a look at her teeth. He was impressed by Bucko’s vet skills and the cut on her rump healing nicely.
Then it was judgment time: the trot up for soundness.
‘Take her down zere,’ Kingston said, pointing down the row of jacarandas. ‘In bet-ven zee trees and zee fence, on zat grass? No rocks.’
‘Okay,’ Tully said, moving Dahlia forward.
‘Geev her a good look vonce, zen ve do flex for thirty seconds of each leg to check for tenderness.’
Tully nodded.
‘Now go.’
‘Right, sorry.’ She clucked lightly and went to move Dahlia forward. The filly’s eyes bulged at Kingston’s assistant, lurking in front of her with his scary silver laptop. Dahlia reached her nose out to sniff it, but changed her mind to flight and lunged forward, spinning back for home. She dragged Tully for a few metres before Tully could get her attention, bring her back under control. Tully pushed her weight hard into a prancing Dahlia’s shoulder as she led her back across the stable yard, down towards the internal road and the row of jacarandas.
She coerced the filly to the bottom of the row of paddocks, then crossed onto the grass and pointed her up towards the barn. Tully took it slow, letting Dahlia sniff the branches of the trees to assure her no bogey men were hiding there. After they’d made it back to the onlookers, Fia came forward slowly to flex Dahlia’s first leg. Then it was time for the filly’s first trot.
‘Good girl,’ Tully said, aiming her back down the strip of earth between the trees and the paddock fences.
Dahlia surged forward. Tully’s body lurched with the fear of being dragged back across the yard. Or worse, of Dahlia getting loose. Running down to the main road . . .
Thankfully, the filly fell back when Tully checked her. ‘Oh, good girl!’ Tully cried, tightening her grip on the lead. She grinned into the hot breeze, running hard to keep up with Dahlia’s pace as they trotted up towards the stable, her ponytail and Dahlia’s tail bouncing in unison.
Dahlia whinnied out to Wheeler as they passed by his paddock.
‘Got a boyfriend, have ya?’ Tully whispered, laughing as Dahlia nipped at her arm, then shunted Tully with her head. Tully was having so much fun as they reached the top that she wasn’t keen to stop when Bucko raised a hand for them to whoa up and do another flex.
‘Okay, so—’ Tully said, puffing to catch her breath after all four trots. ‘How’d she look?’
Fia smiled and gave her a thumbs up. Tully squealed, wrapping her arms around Dahlia’s neck. She fished a slice of apple out of her pocket, showering Dahlia’s face with kisses as she munched away.
‘Is early day, and she still have a lot of condition to put on,’ Kingston said, straightening his glasses. ‘But she iz settled and calm now—not out of breath after zee trots, which is very good sign. I zink she have big lungs, and a big heart . . . She alzo have good recuperative powers, could be a bred stayer . . .’ He frowned slightly. ‘Her left front iz a bit crooked, zo—zee how it flicked out to zee left?’
Tully’s eyebrows knitted together – she glanced down at her filly’s front legs.
‘No big problem,’ Kingston smiled, ‘Just keep an eye on it. She is a runner, zat is for sure, and she really pranzes with zee back feet – really brings zem up. She is a proud girl . . . very intelligent, too.’
‘That she is,’ Tully said, giving Dahlia a firm pat.
‘Hopefully she’ll have the will to win,’ Fia added, running a hand down the filly’s neck.
Kingston offered a thin smile. ‘I zay she good to vide in a month or zo, once she up to weight.’
‘Yes,’ Tully said, giving Dahlia a kiss on the nose. ‘Thank you all so much!’
The next night was Christmas dinner with everyone from Avalon. Grace seemed relieved to let Fia take over the meal prep, and rushed out to have dinner with her parents on the other side of town.
Tully set a spot for her mum at the head of the table, opposite her father. Then they tucked into stuffing, gravy and veggies. Tully placed a little angel on her mother’s plate and thanked her mum for looking over her and the family when she said grace.
Her father joined them to carve the turkey, and sat silently, cocking an eyebrow when Fia began regaling them with tales of her ex-husband, life in Melbourne, her excitement for ‘a special party she’ll be inviting them to for New Year’s’ and her horses in most states of Australia.
Tam and Judy stopped by a little while later with a homemade pavlova, fresh cream and berries for dessert. Tam hardly got through one piece before dragging Tully to her room to grill her about Brandon. ‘You could always text to wish him a Merry Christmas,’ she said, snatching Tully’s phone.
‘You’re really not gonna to drop this, are ya?’ Tully grabbed her phone, flipping her stifling doona over her head.
‘I’m really not,’ Tam said, tickling Tully’s feet until she emerged, sweaty, squealing and kicking.
‘God!’ Tully cried, pushing Tam onto the floor. ‘Off ya go now, cow face. Your mum’s waiting!’
It wasn’t until everyone had said their goodbyes and Tully was in her room alone, listening to the cicadas and staring up at her pitch-black ceiling, that the business card with Brandon’s number really started to call her.
She wanted to have a sweet sixteen, and she wanted to go with Brandon Weston.
I can invite
Tam, too, of course, Tully thought, flipping over onto her stomach and moving her face forward into the blow of her fan. Maybe Brandon can drive us . . .
But the niggling guilt, the nagging reality that Brandon was a Weston: read, not to be trusted, just wouldn’t leave her alone.
Does he know about his dad’s offer for our farm????
Maybe I could help, Tully realised, like a light bulb illuminating in the dark. Maybe if I could explain it all, so he understands where we’re coming from, then he could tell his dad to back off and leave us alone . . .
Anything is worth a shot. If it works . . .
Tully rose from the bed, slipped the card out from under her computer. She held it in her hand, running a finger over the sharp edges, tapping it against her thigh. Then she grabbed her phone, typed in the number and a text:
Merry Christmas, Weston. Can we talk? Tully
She considered a smiley face, or xo, to finish off the message, but deleted both and stabbed at send. She wasn’t expecting a speedy reply, but her phone beeped just as she was drifting off to sleep.
Been wondering when you were gonna be in touch, Athens. Should we meet at our secret spot?
Tully stifled a grin, her stomach dancing with nerves and excitement. She forced a frown. This is just business, she told herself, her bottom lip curling in between her teeth. Re-con for our farm. And maybe a date for my party—or not. Probably just farm talk. And re-con to find out if he’s a wanker or not . . .
But he probably is a wanker.
She shook her head at her own confused thoughts, bashing out a reply:
We don’t have a secret spot, Brandon, and don’t forget the lookout is inside OUR property line.
He replied quickly: Lol settle down. Where then?
Tully: Down by my dam, near the jetty . . . Tonight?
Brandon: It’s a date.
Tully’s body went cold and shook with the shock of what she’d just done. She stared at her phone, disgusted by her impulsiveness. What have I gotten myself into?!! Her belly was invaded by butterflies, her hands so shaky she could hardly pull on a clean shirt.
She dug out her least grubby jeans, redid her ponytail and found an old lip-gloss her mum had left in her bottom drawer from dress-ups. It’s not a date, she told herself, taking in her pale reflection in her cracked dresser mirror. You can’t like him, Tully. But Avalon needs all the help we can get.
15
Brandon Weston
Tully crept as stealthily as she could manage from the sleeping house. She stopped in the back sleep-out to slip on her boots and a cap, holding her breath as she threaded her ponytail through the back. She pulled her phone from her pocket and used the light from the screen as a torch as she loped off down the driveway, past the stables and the slumbering horses, down past the turnout paddocks to the entrance of the exercise track and dam. The night was warm and less than refreshing, the air still and laden with humidity. A near-full moon sent a swathe of light across the dam to the jetty and the pump they used to get water up to the stock waterers and the secondary tank for the house.
Tully scanned the shadows as she reached the shimmering water. He didn’t turn up . . . She thought with a stab of panic. He’s playing me!
I’m an idiot!!
She’d spun around, ready to bolt back to the house, when a rustling in the tall, dead grass around the jetty made her heart stop. Bear bounded out, barking and grinning like mad.
OMG!
‘Shhhh, mate—please!’ Tully whispered, cursing herself for forgetting to pull the wooden back door shut when she’d left the house. Tully scooped up the warm, wriggling body, rushing down the slope to the bank of the wide dam where she prayed they’d be out of sight from the house or the cottage on the far side of the track. She collapsed on the bank, cradling Bear in her lap, her arms wrapped around him.
‘Nice dog,’ a deep, rough voice said from behind her.
‘Holy—sit!’ Tully grabbed the front of Brandon’s T-shirt and pulled him down next to her. Bear leapt up, licking his face.
‘Whoa, whoa!’ He chuckled, leaning down to help Tully contain Bear in her lap. ‘I was hoping for that kind of reception from her—’ he nodded down at Tully.
‘God, shush!’ Tully pushed her face against Bear’s smooth head, her eyes drifting across the sparkling dam to the violet outline of the mountains, and up into the silver diamonds – bright and full across the sky. Tully took a long breath to calm her thumping heart, when suddenly her whole body was swirling like wonderland – her mind lost, struggling to comprehend what that rich-wonderful-earthy-soapy-manly-scent could possibly be. Oh, she realised, opening her mouth so she could block off her nostrils. Him; of course he’s got the best cologne . . .
Just get down to business . . . ‘So,’ Tully said, clutching to Bear’s smooth body. ‘Brandon, did you know your dad’s trying to buy our farm out from under us?’
‘No,’ Brandon said, rising to his feet. ‘No way.’ He paced along the bank, picked up a stone and flipped it over in his hand, then bent down low and flicked it out across the silver water. Tully counted six skips before it disappeared into the depths of the dam. Solid effort, she thought, studying the moonlit outline of his tall frame.
‘There’s no way he’d do that to you guys,’ Brandon said, sitting down next to her, a little too close for comfort. His heat washed over her and she shifted away quickly, the seat of her jeans catching on a rock and spiking her in the butt. She grimaced, but didn’t move back.
Brandon smirked, closing the gap. ‘You’ve been here for as long as we have, longer, probably,’ he said, resting his arms on his knees and casting his eyes down the valley. ‘He wouldn’t do it—especially now, after what happened to your mum . . . I’m really sorry, by the way. I only found out about it the other day.’
‘After you raced me . . .’
He nodded. ‘Sorry, you must have thought I was such a tool. I’m not, I promise . . .’ He grinned, and his mouth twitched up more at one side than the other. It wasn’t intentional, just naturally the way he smiled: a lot naughty, really sexy, and kinda sweet, she found herself thinking. ‘You’re an awesome rider.’
‘Thanks . . . I just need to relax a bit, hey?’
Brandon chuckled. ‘Sorry again.’
But Tully knew he was right. She let her eyes meet his, linger, and a flame flashed like petrol thrown on an already shouldering fire. She glanced away, out over the outline of the mountains. ‘That’s why he came over that night, your dad; to tell my dad we had to sell to you. The night I, ah, whatever . . . Why did you think you were there?’
‘You mean, the night you fell up the stairs?’ He laughed, shoving her playfully on the shoulder. ‘Dad said he was talkin’ to your old man about your horses bein’ let out. We’ve had some strange stuff goin’ on at our place, too.’
‘Like what?’ Tully said.
‘Dad’s Rover was keyed and the quad bike tyres were slashed.’
‘For real?’
‘For real.’
‘Any leads?’
Brandon shook his head, then laughed sarcastically. ‘Dad reckoned it coulda’ been someone from Avalon—’ Tully punched at his arm, but he caught her fist, letting it down slowly and deliberately like he was enjoying the feeling of his skin against hers. ‘I knew it wasn’t,’ he said, keeping his hand on hers. ‘And I reckon he does too. He suspects everyone but that’s just how he is.’
‘Who do you think it was?’ Tully choked out. His skin was warm and rough and amazing. She yanked her hand away, rubbed it on her jeans to extinguish the flame.
‘Dunno,’ Brandon shrugged, ‘A lot of people have it in for my dad.’
‘He doesn’t seem to be great at making friends.’
Brandon smiled wryly. ‘He makes friends with the right people. But even those friendships seem to bite him in the butt eventually. Really, I had no idea he was trying to buy you out. That’s low—even for him . . .’ He locked eyes with Tully. ‘I’ll say somethi
ng to him, if he gives me the chance.’
‘That’d be great, Brandon,’ Tully said, her heart pulsing and filling with hope. ‘Thank you. I’d seriously appreciate it.’
‘No worries. So, when are you gonna come out with me?’
‘Um, huh?’ Tully scrambled, ‘Isn’t this a date?’
Oh God, what a nerd!
New plan: keep your mouth shut.
Brandon grinned, leaning in even closer. ‘If it is, I reckon I deserve a good night kiss.’
‘Whoa—’ Tully shot to the side, clinging onto Bear. ‘You’re not bad, are ya?’
‘Had to try.’
A grin slid across her face, her body burning with nerves and excitement. The pull of him was earth-shattering, and before she knew what she was doing, Tully had moved her shoulder against his, asking, ‘Come to my sweet sixteen?’
Brandon sat up, his face blank, eyebrows raised.
‘Um, sorry,’ Tully said quickly, hiding her face with a hand, turning away. ‘Sorry! Oh God, I shouldn’t have said anything.’
‘You should say something more often,’ Brandon said. He ran a hand down her arm and a bolt of lightening struck at her core – goosebumps racing down her arms. ‘When is it?’
‘Ah, New Year’s,’ Tully said. ‘At my aunty’s unit, on the Gold Coast.’
‘Cool. We had this thing at the Belgrave’s on New Year’s, but I’ll see if I can get out of it.’
‘You don’t have to, I mean, if you’d rather go there.’
‘Nah,’ Brandon said, lowering his face to hers. ‘I certainly wouldn’t. Dad won’t be happy, but it’s all good. Let’s meet in town, though, yeah?’
‘Yeah, totally,’ Tully smiled, ‘Maybe, you could pick Tam and me up from her house, please?’
‘A threesome—sa-weet!’ Brandon laughed, jabbing her in the ribs. ‘Bringin’ the bestie to chaperone, I get it. Don’t you trust me, Athens?’
Tully braced against a swell of emotion, holding her breath. ‘I trust you, Brandon.’
16
Sweet Sixteen
