On the Right Track

by Penelope Janu

  ‘I’m having Tuesday off.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear that.’ He squeezes my arm. ‘A special occasion?’

  ‘Angelina is taking me to the Melbourne Cup.’

  His eyes light up. ‘The race that stops the nation! Flemington racecourse, how delightful.’

  CHAPTER

  42

  Angelina and I walk through the VIP entrance to Flemington Racecourse. She wanted to come for the day but we could only get a midmorning flight. It’s already one o’clock and the race starts at three.

  ‘When I came here with Grandpa,’ I say, ‘I wore jodhpurs and riding boots.’

  ‘We’re not in the stables,’ Angelina says, smoothing creases from her red and white dress. ‘We’re in the sponsor’s marquee. Heels are compulsory.’

  I shove my sneakers into my bag and zip up my boots.

  ‘You don’t really have to wear them,’ Angelina says.

  ‘If I don’t dress up I might not fit in with the other ninety thousand people here.’

  She laughs and kisses me in the way we kissed as children. Left cheek, right cheek, left cheek, right. Then she takes my arm and we walk through the crowds together. Angelina is about a foot taller than me; she’s taller than many of the men who look her up and down as well. Her hair is in a chignon at the nape of her neck. I’m wearing my cinnamon lace dress and my hair is loose and straight. Angelina narrowed her eyes when I told her I wouldn’t wear the hat she’d selected. Then she smiled sadly. ‘You’re pale, Golden, just like a fairy. Have you heard from Tor since you told him not to call?’ I shook my head.

  The best thing about being in the marquee—complete with fountain and faux-marble staircase—is that it’s not as crowded in here as it is outside, and there’s a good view of the racecourse. Angelina and I are on the bottom level with a hundred other people, including a bevy of beautiful women dressed in the airline sponsor’s uniform. On the top level there’s a formal dining space for the extra special VIPs.

  I find a chair near an open window and bury my nose in a form guide. Angelina returns every fifteen minutes. ‘Are you all right?’ she says.

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Now go away before your legion of friends follow you over here again.’

  ‘Should I get you some lunch?’

  ‘I’ll get it myself.’

  The buffet is loaded with platters of oysters, scallops, prawns and salads. Waitstaff circulate and fill people’s glasses. Even so, there’s a rowdy group at the bar.

  ‘Hey, Gumnut.’ Marc smiles as he joins me in the buffet queue. ‘I spotted Ange. Couldn’t believe it when she said you were here. I’ve got a table upstairs. Join me?’

  ‘No, thanks. Shouldn’t you be outside taking bets?’

  He holds up his iPad. ‘All I need is this, but Dad’s out there for old time’s sake. He said he saw you at the Bong Bong track last month. God only knows why he was out there.’

  ‘He looked well.’

  Marc spreads his arms out wide. ‘What about me?’

  He has friendly blue eyes and a handsome face. I frown as if I’m considering his question carefully.

  ‘When we broke up you said you were searching for a woman who’d fit in.’ I look around the room. ‘Have you found her yet?’

  His smile slips. ‘Give me another chance, Gumnut. I’ll do better this time.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’re a pain in the arse, no getting around it.’

  I’m watching him walk away when I hear a crash near the entrance. A woman screams. Silence. Then everybody seems to talk at once.

  I can’t see what’s going on because of all the people in the way. But then the crowd shifts, creating a pathway. Only then do I see him, walking towards me with his thoroughbred stride. He hasn’t shaved for a few days so his jaw is dark with bristles. His tie is slightly askew and he has blood on his knuckles. As he passes the buffet table he takes a white linen serviette and wraps it around his hand. His eyes are fierce.

  My eyes are wide. When I finally speak, my voice is thin and high-pitched. ‘Tor? What are you doing here? What happened?’

  ‘I saw one of Garcia’s security men.’

  ‘The one with big hands? Did you hit him?’

  ‘Self defence.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘Raised his chin.’

  Nate appears at Tor’s side, grinning. ‘Hey, Golden. Fancy seeing you here.’ He puts an arm around my shoulders and shepherds Tor and me to a quiet corner, near where I was sitting before. Angelina catches my eye as she walks to the bar. She smiles and mouths I love you. So I’ve been set up?

  ‘Tor?’ I say. ‘What’s going on?’

  His jaw is tight. He appears to be angry with me as well as the man with big hands. ‘We have unfinished business,’ he says.

  ‘What?’

  He turns to Nate. ‘Garcia is upstairs. Bring him down.’

  I grasp Tor’s arm. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Nate!’ he snaps. ‘Now!’

  Nate runs up the stairs two at a time.

  ‘You think you don’t fit in,’ Tor says, nodding towards his hand. ‘Maybe I don’t either.’

  I want to kiss his lips until they soften. I want to tell him I’m sick of secrets and spying and hurting each other. But no words come out. When he lowers his head I hold my breath.

  He speaks slowly and precisely. ‘You want to live your own life, your gum trees and your children. I want to be a part of that. I have to be.’

  I turn away and stare out of the window. The horses—blacks, a grey, bays and chestnuts—make their way to the starting gates.

  ‘Golden? Would you look at me, please?’

  Dr Makepeace said pushing people away might not always be for the best. Eric said I’m stronger than I know.

  I don’t look up but take his hand, carefully securing the serviette over his knuckles and smoothing down the fabric. My face is curtained by my hair. He lifts it with his other hand and puts it behind my ear. He touches the skin on my neck with his fingertips. I press my face against his hand and kiss his palm.

  When Nate comes down the stairs with Alessandro, I step away from Tor. But Alessandro doesn’t try to kiss me, or even shake my hand. When he nods, his eyes are guarded and wary.

  ‘We got a match,’ Tor says to Alessandro. ‘The writing on the condolence card, and the card you gave me.’

  ‘I see,’ Alessandro says. ‘What happens next?’

  ‘My investigation is over. But if Golden chooses to report what you did, I’ll back her.’

  ‘What I wrote to John Saunders would only be circumstantial evidence. I’d dispute any allegation of misconduct.’

  Tor speaks between his teeth. ‘Just try it.’

  Nate is standing behind us, screening us from the other guests, not that anyone seems to be interested. Those who aren’t watching the horses through the windows have their eyes on the screen that takes up most of the wall at the end of the room. Many of the horses are already confined to their gates; others are being led into them.

  Do I want to report Alessandro? I think of his young adult children, and his grey haired uncle who was kind to me at the cocktail party. Exposing Alessandro would hurt them, and I know how that feels. At first I wanted nothing to do with Tor’s investigation, and then I wanted to find out about my father. But my primary concern has always been Grandpa. Maybe I can do something for him.

  I turn to Alessandro. ‘What did you think of my grandfather?’

  Alessandro blinks. Maybe he thinks I’m trying to trick him? When the race starts there’s a roar from the crowd and cheers from the guests in the room. The horses spring from the gates and the jockeys position their mounts for the arduous two-mile distance. Alessandro waits until the noise dies down.

  ‘John Saunders was devoted to you, and to the horses he trained,’ he says. ‘He was a fine horseman, honest, hardworking.’

  ‘Nobody listened when I told them that.’ My voice breaks and I turn awa
y. The horses are packed tight in the middle of the field. Harlequin, the Solomon-trained horse that won last year, is hemmed in on the rail. I twist my fingers together and face Alessandro again. ‘You’re influential and powerful—people will listen to you. I don’t want a grand announcement, but I want you to tell the truth. When Grandpa found out the money in his account shouldn’t have been paid to him, he reported it to my stepfather and arranged to have the money paid back. Grandpa was a fine horseman. He was also kind, hardworking and honest. That’s what I want you to say.’

  When Alessandro holds out his hand, I take it. His clasp is firm and his eyes are sincere. I believe he’ll do what he can. When he steps back we stand side by side, facing the window. A stayer from Germany leads into the straight. Harlequin and another horse are a length behind but gaining on him. The jockeys swing their whips in frantic arcs.

  Tor is behind me, watching over my shoulder. He’s not touching me, but I feel the strength and warmth of his body, the faint fresh smell of him.

  After we made love he looked into my eyes and whispered, I didn’t know it could be like this. He let me deal with Alessandro as I thought best. He acknowledged I want to live my own life. But what if I want to share it with him? He’s arrogant and protective and travels the world as a diplomatic spy, but he needs a home. He needs someone to convince him he doesn’t have to save the world. That he’s nothing like his father and he didn’t let his brother down.

  We’ll have a garden. A horse and a cat. And children. When I turn around I find he’s just as close as I imagined him to be. He puts his hands on my shoulders, slides them down my arms and takes my hands.

  ‘You shouldn’t have hit the man,’ I say.

  ‘He hurt you.’ His voice is gruff.

  ‘You shouldn’t have contacted Eric behind my back.’

  ‘Granted.’ His eyes are darkest grey. ‘You shouldn’t have left me after Grasmere.’

  The serviette is loose again, so I tuck in the ends to secure it. Then I thread the fingers of his other hand through mine.

  ‘I don’t … ’ I take a deep breath and force the words out. ‘I don’t want to go back to where I was. I don’t want to go around you or crash through you or jump over you. I don’t want to push you away. I want to be with you.’

  His eyes are bright. He squeezes my hand and brushes my mouth with a kiss.

  ‘I have to fly home with Ange tonight, and I have clients all day tomorrow. Will you come after that?’

  ‘I’ll be there at five.’

  When Harlequin crosses the line, the noise in the room is deafening. Waitstaff pop champagne corks. Angelina appears, takes Nate’s arm and bounces up and down on the spot. The race announcer calls out the odds.

  CHAPTER

  43

  Pepper steps delicately up the steep rocky incline, but as soon as we reach the top of the ridge she prances and tosses her head. The native grasses are thick and springy and the track is soft and wide. I’ll give Pepper her head, and then we’ll go home.

  ‘Easy, girl,’ I say, leaning low over her neck as she lengthens her stride. The wind loosens my plait and blows hair across my face as the gums, shrubs and wildflowers pass by in a palette of colour. When the track veers towards the creek I slow Pepper’s pace and once she’s at a walk, I loosen her rein. I take off my hat and link my arm through the strap. The tree canopy above us filters the afternoon sunshine. Meandering water trickles over the smooth wide rocks. I draw a deep breath and take in the scents of the leaves.

  When we reach the bottom paddock we trot towards the silver-white ghost gum at the top of the hill. And that’s when I see the car, a steel grey version of Tor’s BMW.

  Tor makes no effort to hide what he’s feeling. His body is rigid. He paces, turns towards me, paces again. He opens the gate to the stable yard.

  ‘You’re never early,’ I say. ‘Elka has a cold so I had an hour off.’

  He rubs a hand over Pepper’s muzzle and she breathes into his hands. He combs her forelock with his fingers and strokes her neck. When I pass him my hat, he tosses it behind him, onto the ground.

  ‘You should have been wearing it.’

  ‘I was before.’

  I ease my left foot out of the stirrup iron slowly. He watches, mouth tight.

  My words run together. ‘Ramsay will be here soon. Why are you angry?’

  ‘Your front door was locked. Your back door was open. You said you had clients all day. You left your phone at home—I was concerned.’

  ‘Why?’ I smile tentatively. ‘When you’ve locked up the criminals.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake!’

  Tor needs to know that I’m safe. And I need to know that he wants me. I ease my right leg over the saddle and Pepper’s neck without moving my left leg too much. Now I’m sitting sideways and looking down on him.

  ‘What do you think of me?’ I say.

  He stares into my eyes and slowly shakes his head. ‘You’re loyal and beautiful. And you’re obstinate.’

  ‘Two out of three is good.’

  ‘You speak with your eyes but not with your mouth. You’re loving, afraid and secretive. And I never know which part of you I’ll get.’ When he presses his chest against my legs, I feel his steady heartbeat. ‘I love you, Golden. You’re complicated and difficult. I love everything about you.’

  I could take the easy way out—burst into tears and tell him I love him. But women probably say that all the time. He deserves more.

  ‘You didn’t let your brother down. If another person trusts you absolutely like he does, you may learn to trust yourself.’

  His eyes soften. ‘Where would I find a person like that?’

  I inch forward. ‘Catch.’ When I tumble from Pepper’s back Tor grasps me around the waist and lowers me carefully to the ground. He dips his head so his lips are just above mine.

  ‘Anything else to add?’ he says.

  ‘You have to put down roots. You need a home. And I can help you with that.’ I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. It’s one of my kisses, soft and gentle, and he tolerates it for about five seconds. Then he growls.

  ‘Fuck, Golden. Kiss me properly.’

  I smile against his lips. ‘I gave you a loving, afraid and secretive kiss.’

  He looks searchingly into my eyes. He’s suddenly serious. ‘Say that word again, the fifth one.’

  When the car horn blares he stiffens, groans, buries his face in my neck.

  ‘That will be Ramsay,’ I say. ‘I have to go. Can you see to Pepper?’

  He curses under his breath, but then he takes her rein.

  After seeing Ramsay and his father to the door I run to the bathroom. The hot water eases the stiffness in my leg and washes away the smell of the stables.

  Tor is sitting on my bed and leaning against the bedhead when I walk into my room. His legs, long and lean in black jeans, are straightened. His feet are bare.

  ‘You locked the bathroom door again,’ he says, holding out his hand. ‘Come here.’

  I tuck in the corner of my towel more securely. ‘I’ll make you wet.’

  When he smiles, my knees go weak. ‘I like wet.’

  I climb carefully onto the bed so my towel stays in place. He cups my face and tips up my chin. ‘I missed you,’ he says.

  ‘I missed you too.’

  He nibbles my earlobe, then nuzzles my neck. He traces the freckles on my cheeks with the tips of his fingers. He loosens the towel and makes patterns on my shoulders.

  I open his shirt buttons, pressing my lips against his skin. ‘You have so many clothes on.’

  As if I’ve reminded him of something, he stills. He tucks the towel tightly over my breasts.

  ‘Tor? What’s the matter?’

  He looks down at me, kisses me briefly and looks straight ahead. He’s very serious.

  ‘When we were in the stable yard, you said I needed a home,’ he says. ‘Did you mean a home for both of us?’

  He told me he loved me. I shou
ld be honest with him. ‘Yes.’

  ‘We have to talk.’

  I feel sick with doubt. Maybe he doesn’t want a home? ‘It doesn’t matter where it is,’ I say. ‘Or what it’s like. It’ll just be rented while I’m saving up. You wouldn’t have to live there all the time.’ His silence makes things worse. ‘A home is having something to come back to, that’s all.’

  ‘And someone to come back to?’

  Will he only come home when he’s in the southern hemisphere? Or am I supposed to travel the world with him? When I inch away he mutters something unintelligible and hauls me onto his lap. He rests his chin on the top of my head.

  ‘I’ve never loved anyone before,’ he says. ‘I thought acknowledging it would make things easier. What the fuck is going on?’

  I swallow. ‘You have a big life and I have a small one. I refuse to be baggage.’

  ‘That doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘You’re the one who said we had to talk. Maybe you should take the lead.’

  My hands are clenched tightly in my lap. He forces my fingers open and silently strokes my palms. When I relax against his chest, he combs his fingers through my hair.

  ‘When we were at Bowral, Eric told you I agreed with him—that selling your home was for the best.’

  I nod.

  ‘It wasn’t as bad as it sounded. He was referring to a conversation we’d had earlier, about Grasmere.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘He told me months ago he was thinking of selling.’ He rests his chin on the top of my head. ‘I was sitting next to you when Nate drove over the cattle grate—it was the first time you’d smiled since we’d picked you up. The next morning I thought, why not? When I spoke to Eric on the phone I told him I wanted it for you.’

  ‘What? Why didn’t he tell me?’

  ‘I swore him to secrecy.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I went behind your back in talking to Eric. I should have consulted you. And everything went to shit that day anyway.’

  ‘You’d live there with me?’