The feds had found the real Fiery Lights in Darwin, her white socks dyed to match her coat, and her mane and tail coloured black to make her a bay mare, not a chestnut. The article said that as a result of multiple tip-offs, all horse movement out of the country had been under scrutiny, and that was when Fiery Lights had been found. She was apparently bound for a Middle East racehorse breeding program.
I rose and went to look out of the window. I could see the horses in the paddock, nose to tail, flicking flies from each other’s faces. Flame was paired with Smoke. Their grey and chestnut tails were swishing away. I wondered again where she had come from.
The phone rang, and my first thought was that it was Josie. I waited a moment before picking it up. It might be a potential booking; it might be Pen. But it was Mario, the local policeman from Worrindi.
After the pleasantries were exchanged, Mario got down to business. “It’s about the horse you have out there. Flame. Have you seen today’s news?”
“Yes. They found Fiery Lights.”
“They did. However, I’m calling about the horse you have. Do you have any idea where she might have come from?”
“None. She apparently came from South Australia, but that might have been part of the deception.”
“I’m asking you to hold onto her for the time being. We’re trying to trace her owner, but it’s difficult. No horses like her have been reported stolen in the last few months—well, apart from an old nag called Fiery Lights.” Amusement coloured Mario’s voice. “It’s unlikely we’ll be able to find where she came from—or indeed, if she was purchased, the previous owner may not want her back. Would you mind keeping her there for a bit? I know it’s a big ask, what with the drought and lack of fodder and all, but I’ll see if I can do anything for you in that regard.”
“I’ll do that. Don’t worry too much at this stage. I have another couple of weeks paid on her agistment. After that, we can see.”
“She may be with you for a lot longer than a couple of weeks,” warned Mario. “Is that a problem? We want to keep tabs on all the lookalike mares for the moment.”
“That’s okay.”
“Thanks, Felix. That’s all I wanted.” There was a pause, while he talked to someone in the background. “One other thing: your friend, Josie. Is she with you?”
“No. I’m not sure where she is. She left yesterday to go back to the Commercial. You might try there.”
“Been there already. Madge says she no longer works for them. If you see her, can you tell her to call Worrindi Police Station? We don’t want to lose track of her either. She needs to be where we can reach her. She hasn’t surrendered her passport yet, although she still has the rest of the day to do that.”
“I’ll tell her if I see her.”
The call ended, and I sat back in my chair. When would I learn that my initial assessments of people were more often than not spot on? I’d thought Josie was a drifter, one who would float away like morning mist when it suited her to no longer be around. And with no job, she had even less reason to stay around Worrindi.
I should be happy. I should take the memories of our nights together, wrap them in the pleasure of her easy company, the help she’d given me around the stables and campground, and file them away under the heading Good Friend Gone. I should keep the good things in my head, as memories of a happy time, and let the rest go. Josie wasn’t a bad person. I should remember that.
But it was hard to let her go that easily. For a moment, I sipped my cooling coffee and remembered the laughter and the good times riding with her in the brush of an early dawn, our horses’ hooves thudding hollowly on the baked ground, the touch of her hand as she pointed out a flock of budgies wheeling across the blue sky. Her company had made life lighter and brighter, and her presence in my bed had sent me to the stars and back.
I missed her.
I rose from the desk and chucked the rest of the coffee over the veranda railing.
Followed by my faithful shadow, Tess, I went down to the stables. Even Tess reminded me of Josie—her face when she’d given Tess to me: wistful, open, giving. Wanting me to be happy with the dog. Wanting Tess to have a forever home.
On an impulse, I grabbed a bridle and went across the paddock to where Flame grazed. I bridled her and vaulted up bareback. I relaxed as I eased her into a walk, feeling her muscles move under my legs, the warm smell of dusty horse in my nose. Flame flickered her ears back and forth, probably wondering what was up. I stayed relaxed and encouraged her into her free-swinging walk over to the gate and out to the long paddock. Keeping to a walk, we rode along the creek, Tess panting at our heels. She crisscrossed our path, nose to the dirt, taking in new and exciting smells.
I patted Flame. At this pace, she was the perfect ride. Gentle, easy, comfortable.
“You like it here, don’t you, girl?” I said to her. “Relaxed life with your friends. No stress.”
Her ear flickered back to listen to my words.
I turned her back along the fence line. Twenty minutes walking was enough for her. I didn’t want a repeat of our previous time.
While the ride had cleared my head, it hadn’t made the decisions I faced any easier. I wondered if Pen had spoken with Josie and what she had said.
I exhaled slowly.
Josie had been gone less than a day, and already I missed her in my life.
The day passed and then another. I hadn’t heard from Josie, and I wondered if she was still in Worrindi or if she’d moved on. Twice I picked up the phone and started to dial her mobile, but twice I clicked off before the call could connect. I wanted to call her, but pride held me back. After all, she had said she was thinking of moving to Victoria, and now that she had lost her job in the pub, as soon as the police lifted their travel restriction, there was nothing to stop her. Once, I had hoped that she might want to stay around, but her silence, her lack of contact, made me curl up into a big insecure ball, afraid to put myself out there. I thought of driving into Worrindi, but really, I had no other reason to go, and quite simply, I was too busy.
Even though it was now the first week of November and the heat was already blistering, I had a bunch of tourists staying. There were six four-wheel drives, each with a couple or a family on board, all members of a touring club from Victoria who planned on staying three nights while they explored the area. They were a jolly bunch and had ranged their tents over the campground. My amenities block was stretched to the limit. Many of them also used the camp kitchen rather than their own vehicle-based set ups. Both cabins were also occupied, and so many people wanted to ride that I was taking a morning and an evening ride each day. It was great for my finances, and also kept me busy enough that I didn’t have much time to dwell on Josie and what might have been.
I borrowed a saddle that fit Flame’s narrow back from the main Jayboro Station and was able to use Flame for the guests a couple of times, although she wasn’t the easiest horse to match to a rider. Too large for children, too feisty for an inexperienced rider, and of course the experienced riders wanted to go faster than Flame could manage. But I had one family where the mother was knowledgeable enough to manage her, but wanted to stay with her beginner children. Flame was perfect for that.
The four-wheel drivers had a roaring campfire every night and didn’t need me to lay on entertainment. I brought out the damper anyway—it wasn’t a novelty for this bunch as it had been for the others, but they enjoyed it nonetheless. And the guests in the cabins also came over to join the fun. But I missed Josie. I missed her relaxed company, her friendly manner that could draw out the most introverted guests and get them talking about themselves. Josie’s easy knack of including everyone, her light-hearted nature… I missed it.
I missed her.
The Melbourne Cup came and went and was won by a horse from New Zealand. I got an email from Ger saying how pissed off Young Seánie was that Fiery Lights hadn’t entered at the last minute, but as he had picked the winner, he was still quite happy.
“Where do I have to go?” I asked, thinking of my overflowing campground and mountains of work.
“We’re using the Worrindi Police Station,” said the efficient sounding voice on the other end. “Can you be there at ten tomorrow?”
I’d arranged a ride at eight for some of the campers. I wouldn’t be able to do that and get to Worrindi in time. Then I remembered Sue’s instructions for times like this. “I’ll need to check with my lawyer,” I said. “If she can make that time, then I’ll be there.”
“That’s fine. Just let us know.”
I hesitated. “Can you tell me if Josephine Beccari will be giving her statement at the same time?”
“I can’t tell you that.” There was no inflection in the voice. Nothing to give me any clues as to whether Josie would be there as well.
“No worries. I’ll get back to you.”
I hung up, and called Sue. She answered on the third ring.
“Whitely and Brent Law. This is Sue.”
“Still no receptionist,” I teased.
“Not unless there’s a multiple vehicle pileup of wanna-be divorced criminals with outstanding debts who were all just about to purchase a house in Mungabilly Creek. That’s the only way I need a receptionist. Although Mrs T’s friend, Rosalie, has been hinting she’d like more work.”
“Maybe I should come and work for you. It might be an easier life right now.”
“Everything okay, Felix?” Sue’s voice was carefully neutral, but I knew from past experience that she’d be there for me if I needed to talk.
“Yeah. I’m fine. But thanks for asking.”
“You always say you’re fine. You can whinge, you know. It’s only Moni who’s not allowed to complain around here.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard Moni whinge about anything.”
“She does.” Laughter in Sue’s voice. “Trust me, she does. But anyway, I’m sure you didn’t call about my office staff or Moni’s complaints.”
“You’re right.” I sat at the desk and moved three dirty coffee cups from one side to the other. “I got a call from the feds. They want me to give a statement. They told me ten tomorrow, but I said I had to call you.”
“Okay. I’m sorta free tomorrow, but it will be hard to make it by ten given the distance. I can do noon. Would that suit you?”
“Much better than ten. I’ve got a trail ride at eight.”
“Perfect. Can you call them back and say… No. I’ll call them. It will sound better coming from me. If they can’t do noon, are you okay for later?”
“Yeah. And of course you can stay over if that’s easier for you.”
“Thanks. If it’s late, I’ll take you up on that, but otherwise, I’ll get home to Moni if I can. I was in Worrindi two days ago, actually, when Josie had to give her statement. I would have called you, but I honestly didn’t have time to see you. It was hard enough to squeeze Josie in as it was.”
“That’s okay.” I shuffled the coffee mugs into a line, all the handles pointing at the same forty-five-degree angle. “Was Josie’s statement okay?”
“Yeah. I think she’ll be right, but the feds aren’t letting her off the hook just yet.” Sue hesitated, then said, “I asked if she’d seen you, but she said she hadn’t and changed the subject. What’s happening, Felix?”
I didn’t try to pretend I didn’t know what she meant. “I don’t know. You heard her; she wants to move on. She went back to Worrindi to see if she could save her job, but apparently they don’t want her back. I haven’t heard anything since. I guess now that she hasn’t got Flame as the drawcard, she has no reason to come out here.”
Sue heaved a gusty sigh. “That makes no sense. You make no sense. I don’t know why Josie hasn’t come to see you, but what’s stopping you going to see her? She’s still in town—she hasn’t been told she can leave yet. My guess is she thinks you don’t want to see her. You haven’t been particularly open to her since you got back from Victoria.”
“We slept together the last night you were here.”
“Yeah, and did you say anything about wanting to see her again?”
“She didn’t say anything either.”
Sue was silent for a moment. “Felix, she’s on your turf. Your house, your barn, your horses. Plus she was the one who was less than truthful with you. If I were in Josie’s place, I think I would wait for the invitation too.”
I swallowed, the thickness in my throat choking my words. When I could speak, I said, “Maybe I’ll see her tomorrow. We’ll be in Worrindi, after all. Maybe we’ll bump into her—it’s hardly the metropolis of Sydney.”
“Maybe.” Sue’s voice was noncommittal. “Anyway, I’ll meet you tomorrow in Worrindi. If they don’t agree to the change of time, I’ll call you. Otherwise, let’s say 11.45am in The Drover’s Rest coffee shop. If you’re there first, I’ll have a long black, double strength, with hot milk on the side.”
“No worries. See you then.” I hung up.
There were thumping feet on the veranda, and one of the campers stuck their head around the door. “Hi. I just wanted to let you know there’s no hot water in the showers.”
“Sorry about that.” I gave him an apologetic smile. “The gas must have run out. I’ll come down and switch the cylinder.” At least I was going to Worrindi tomorrow; I could get a replacement then.
It took me longer than usual to do the rounds that morning. Every camper wanted to talk—either to ask about trail rides, or tourist attractions in the area, or simply to whinge about their cold shower. The showers were a mess, and all the rubbish bins were overflowing. The cabins had to be turned over, and the new guests for them arrived before I was finished. I suggested they take a walk around the campground or down to the horses while they waited, but they unloaded all their bags onto the cabin’s tiny veranda and sat waiting, making it very difficult for me to get around them. To cap it off, when I went to catch the horses for the evening trail ride, Smoke was hobbling, barely able to put her near foreleg to the ground. It turned out to be a stone wedged in her hoof, but even when I removed it, the poor lady was still tender with a bruised sole.
I went back to the house for a late lunch. The light was blinking on the voicemail. I sat and pressed the button, but it was someone wanting to book a cabin. The disappointment was crushing.
I picked up the phone again. I wanted to call Josie. I should call Josie, but as my finger hovered over the button, I remembered once again the lightness in her voice when she talked about moving on. I remembered, too, the lies she had told me. I knew her reasons, and to an extent, I understood them. But she had still lied to me. My family had valued truth, and I always found the casual white lies that people told very hard to accept as normal.
“You call a spade a bloody shovel,” Narelle often said to me. And she was right.
So once again, I put the phone down, jammed my hat on my head and went to groom the horses.
Sue was waiting the next morning when I arrived at The Drover’s Rest. A coffee and a cheese and ham toastie were beside her, and a second coffee sat in front of the vacant chair opposite. She was reading a sheaf of papers, something dense with black ink, and making occasional marks with a red pen. I sat opposite and picked up the coffee. She peered at me over her specs, and set down the papers.
“Glad you could make it!” She grinned and tapped the side of her mug with her pen.
“I’m only five minutes late,” I protested. I took a swig of the cooling coffee and set it down again.
“Your coffee would have been hotter if you were here on time. Anyway,” she changed the subject swiftly, putting on her serious lawyer face. “You’re going to give a statement. I’m not going to tell you what you can and can’t say—indeed, I can’t give you that advice. You must obviously tell the truth, without embellishment or exaggeration, and equally without deliberate omiss
ion. They may ask you questions. It’s okay to answer them, but if I put a hand on your arm, you stop talking immediately. Got that? I’ll only do it if I think they’re trying to steer you in one direction or to trap you. I doubt it will happen, but if I do that, you stop. In midsentence.”
I nodded and picked up my coffee again. “Did you have to do it with Josie?”
“No. Which is why I doubt they’ll try and trip you up. Josie was always more in the firing line than you.”
“Do you know if she’s still in Worrindi?” I couldn’t meet Sue’s eyes as I asked the question. It felt wrong, asking my friend where my lover was, but my guts were still tied in knots. The coffee hit my stomach, and suddenly I felt queasy.
Sue took her specs off to see me better. “You haven’t called her. Felix, you are bonkers. Utterly bonkers. She’s so perfectly right for you, and you’re sitting here asking me where she is.” She took a bite of her toastie. “Do you know where she’s staying in Worrindi?”
I shook my head. “No idea. Not at the pub though. You must know though, if you were there when they took her statement.”
Sue was shaking her head before I’d finished the sentence. “Can’t tell you that.” She put her hand on my arm. “Sorry, Felix, but I can’t. But it’s really easy: you call her. You can even use my phone, which is better than your old thing.” She pushed her mobile closer. “But after you’ve given your statement. Not now. Finish your coffee and we’ll go.”
I’d been nervous about giving the statement, worried that I would inadvertently say something that would make it worse for Josie. But the policewoman who took my statement set me at my ease from the start, and her questions were easy and unthreatening. I related how I’d come to have Flame, how Josie had told me about her, and how she’d arrived in the beat up cattle truck with no accompanying tack or kit. I answered questions as to when I first became suspicious and what led Josie and me to take the trip to Victoria. Throughout the questioning, Sue remained quiet. When the policewoman asked why I didn’t call Crime Stoppers when I found Flame’s microchip identified her as Fiery Lights, Sue’s hand hovered briefly over my arm. But my answer must have been okay, as she withdrew her hand.
Fenced-In Felix Page 25
