by Kate Lattey
Clearwater Bay #2
“Against the Clock”
Kate Lattey
1st Edition
Copyright 2015 © by Kate Lattey
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
More books by this author on Amazon
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Someone’s opinion of you
does not have to become your reality.
Even though you face disappointments,
you have to know within yourself that
‘I can do this.
Even if no one else sees it for me,
I must see it for myself.’
- Les Brown
CHAPTER ONE
“It’s your birthday next week. Have you given any thought to what you want?”
I glance at Dad as we drive over the crest of the hill and head down into Ratanui township. He’s forcing me to come grocery shopping with him today, but I’ve only agreed on the condition that we can stop by the saddlery on the way.
“Only about a thousand things,” I tell him. “Each one more expensive than the last.”
“Anything within the realm of realistic?” Dad asks.
He’s smiling, but I know that he means it. Money is always tight around here, although he started a new job over the winter and now he’s making more than he used to, which is definitely an upside. The downsides are that he works longer hours, including some weekends, and that he has to iron his shirts every morning, which he’s frankly terrible at.
“Magpie’s puppies are due soon,” I suggest. “I’m sure Alec would let us have one.”
Dad shoots me a look and shakes his head. “Nice try. I don’t think Chewy would be too keen on that one. He’s used to being an only child.”
His big mongrel dog pants in my ear from the back seat, and I turn and look at him sympathetically.
“Poor Chewbacca. He’s dying to have a baby brother! Besides, it would be someone to keep him company while you’re at work and I’m at school,” I continue.
Another downside of Dad’s new job is that he can’t take Chewy to work with him anymore, and the dog has been a bit out of sorts lately, what with all the alone-time.
“I said no. Try again.”
I sigh. I’d expected that answer, but I’m still a bit disappointed. I’ve always wanted a puppy.
“What about something for the pony?” Dad asks, and it’s my turn to shoot him a look.
“She does have a name,” I remind him. “And sure, there are only about a million things I could use for Finn. Starting with a new helmet.”
Dad raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t know horses needed helmets.”
“You’re hilarious,” I reply, and he grins. “You know what I mean. Mine’s a bit banged up. I fell off a couple of times over the winter while we were out hunting and they say that you should replace them whenever you hit your head, which in my case would be both times. But the ones I want are really expensive.”
“How expensive?” Dad asks, braking slowly as we reach the bottom of the hill.
A dog barks from a nearby farmhouse as we pass it, and Chewy flings himself at the rear window, barking frantically in response.
“SHUDDUP!” Dad and I yell at the same time, and Chewy whimpers and sits back down.
I reach back and scratch his floppy ears apologetically as Dad turns onto the main road.
“About four hundred dollars.”
The old ute swerves slightly as Dad reels with shock. “Four hundred dollars for a helmet? You’re kidding!”
“Not even slightly.”
“Crikey. How’re you supposed to afford a new one every time you fall off if they’re that pricey?”
“If you buy me one, I’ll promise never to fall off in it,” I tell him, and he rolls his eyes at me. “Well I’d try really hard not to, anyway. And not all of them are that expensive.”
“Just the ones you want.” I grin at him, and he laughs. “Maybe you could ask your Gran for some help on that one.”
I bite my lip and look away. “Probably not.”
Dad looks at me sideways, a frown flickering across his features that so resemble my own. “Something wrong?”
I start to pretend that everything’s fine, but I catch myself in time. Honesty, I remind myself. Communication.
“I did ask her,” I admit. “But I don’t think she’s going to come through this time.” I chew the inside of my cheek for a moment as Dad slows to let an oncoming truck get past on the narrow, winding road. “I think she’s still mad at me.”
He looks genuinely surprised by this revelation. “What’s she mad at you for?”
“Oh, you know. Leaving her behind. Coming back here,” I remind him. “She wanted me to stay in England and go to boarding school and get a proper education, and I think she’s still upset that I changed my mind.”
“I didn’t realise she felt that way,” Dad admits. “Thought she was happy to be rid of you.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“You know what I mean.”
And I do, though it’s taken me a while to get a read on my father. When I first came to live with him eight months ago, we’d struggled to communicate at all. I hadn’t been able to tell when he was kidding around (most of the time, as it turned out) and when he was being serious, so I’d blown up at the least provocation. Being of a naturally placid temperament, Dad had tried to quell the storm by barely speaking to me at all. I’d taken his silence as lack of caring, and had shut myself off from him in response. We’d tiptoed around one another for months, and it hadn’t been until I’d decided to leave and return home to England that we finally managed to tell each other how we really felt. So when I had realised that the parts of my life that I had gone back to England for were no longer there, I’d asked Dad to take me back. He’d said yes without any hesitation, and since we’ve been reunited, we’re getting along much better than ever before. He’s starting to feel like my father instead of a stranger, although we’ve still got a lot of catching up to do after ten years of estrangement. But we’ve learned to enjoy one another’s company and, slowly but surely, our family is being rebuilt.
“Jay?”
“Mmm?” I look back over at Dad as he pulls up in front of the feed and saddlery store, and parks the ute.
“We’re here.”
“So we are.” I unclip my seatbelt and open the door. “Meet you back here in half an hour?”
“Hang on.” Dad drums his fingers on the steering wheel, looking thoughtful as I wait, half in and half out of the ute. “Do they have those expensive helmets you like in there?”
I look at him cautiously, unwilling to get my hopes up. “Yes,” I say carefully.
He meets my eyes and smiles. “Well, I guess we should go take a look at them then.”
“Seriously?
”
“Why not?”
Delighted, I leap out of the ute and shut my door in the dog’s face.
“Sorry Chewy, but we’ll be back in a minute,” I tell him, then dance around to the other side of the vehicle and wait for Dad to unfold his long legs out of it.
He laughs at my excitement as I lead the way towards the shop entrance.
“Just remember that if you fall off, I’m not replacing this helmet. It’s on your head. Get it?”
“Ha ha,” I groan. “That was so bad it actually hurt.”
An hour and a half later, I’m cradling the box containing my brand new helmet in my lap as we drive back home, groceries bouncing in boxes on the back seat.
“You look like the cat who got the cream,” Dad teases me.
“Feels like it,” I grin back at him. “You have no idea how badly I wanted one of these helmets! Finn and I are going to look so good this season.”
“You’ll be disappearing off all weekend, every weekend soon again then,” Dad comments, and I nod.
“I hope so! Not that I don’t like being at home,” I assure him quickly. “But taking Finn out show jumping is my favourite thing in the world.”
“I know. I’m not offended. Looking forward to the peace and quiet,” he says, but he’s smiling and I know that he’s only kidding. “When do you start?”
“Competing? Next weekend. We’re going to Kapanui on the Sunday, then the weekend after is Ratanui Sports, and then the weekend after that we’re going to Pukete, which is our first big registered event for the season. That’s the important one,” I tell him, as my mind fills up with painted poles and bright ribbons, gleaming tack and plaited manes.
Hooves digging into the soft green turf, the feel of the reins between my fingers, the smell of sweating horse rising to meet me. The clatter of rails as they fall down, the applause of spectators for a round well ridden, the crackle of the loudspeaker as the results are announced. Adrenalin, excitement and pride, all mixed into an exhilarating cocktail that I can’t get enough of. I can’t wait to get back out and compete again. Finn flew around the hunt field over the winter, impressing everyone with her courage and scope, and I’m more than ready to get her back in the competition arena.
“Jay, there’s something I want to talk to you about,” Dad says suddenly, pulling my thoughts back to the present.
“That sounds ominous,” I joke, but my stomach clenches tightly.
The last time a conversation started like that was when my mother had told me that the last round of chemotherapy hadn’t worked and there was nothing more the doctors could do to save her. My heart starts beating harder and I can feel my palms getting sweaty. I try to convince myself to calm down, that Dad would’ve told me much sooner if it was something like that, but I can’t be sure, and my hands are visibly shaking. I clench them together across the box in my lap that suddenly feels suspiciously like a bribe, and force myself not to freak out completely as he trips nervously over his next words.
“I…uh…well there’s someone I want you to meet.” I look over at him, frowning. “A friend of mine. Uh…a close friend.”
I blink at him, confused. “What? Who?”
“Um, well her name’s Nina,” he says, his face turning bright red, and I realise suddenly what he’s trying to tell me.
“You have a girlfriend?”
He nods. My first reaction is utter relief, and I relax back against the seat, able to breathe again for a moment.
“What do you think?” he asks tentatively and I shrug.
“I was expecting something a lot worse, the way you started that conversation,” I admit, my voice still shaking a bit.
Dad reaches over and pats my shoulder, keeping his eyes on the road. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay,” I reply, trying to convince both of us. “So how’d you meet?”
“Through work,” he explains, returning both hands to the wheel. “She’s an environmental lawyer.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
We drive on in silence for a while. Now that the shock has subsided, I can’t help wondering what this is going to mean for us. Dad and I have only just started to get along, and now there’s someone else in his life. I’m not very good at sharing – as an only child, I’ve never had to be. I try to imagine having a third person in our tiny house, and have to admit that I don’t like the thought.
“Does she know about me?”
“Of course,” Dad says quickly. “She’s looking forward to meeting you.”
“Oh.” I think for a moment. “How long have you two been, you know, going out?”
“We’ve known each other a while, but it’s only become a serious thing in the last month or so.”
A month? Wow. I guess we still don’t talk to each other much, and certainly not about this kind of thing.
“So that’s why you’ve been working all those late nights,” I comment, and he blushes again.
“Sometimes.” Dad clears his throat and slows down as we reach a junction in the road. He flicks the indicator to the left, and the tick tick tick fills the ute as we wait for a gap in the traffic.
“Nina’s offered to come over and make dinner for us sometime soon. She’s a great cook. Maybe she can teach you a thing or two,” he adds, and I stick my tongue out at him, pretending that the joke hasn’t hurt my feelings.
I’ve been taking cooking classes at school this term, but so far my attempts to recreate dishes that come out perfectly in the Home Ec kitchen have been unmitigated disasters at home. Dad has manfully suffered through them, but he’s not a good enough liar to pretend he’s enjoyed them.
“Me? What about you?” I ask. “Does she know the only thing you know how to make is beans on toast?”
“Well now, that’s not fair. I can fry an egg, and boil rice, and all kinds of other things.”
“I’ll tell the Michelin people, they’ll award you five stars,” I reply, and he chuckles as we head up the big hills that lead into Clearwater Bay.
As the road narrows and Dad focuses on driving, I wonder about the mysterious Nina. What will she think of me? What if she doesn’t like me? What if I can’t stand her?
My spirits sink lower as we drive, and even the sight of the glistening ocean and rolling farmland sweeping out in front of us as we crest the top of the hill doesn’t reassure me. I look out across Clearwater Bay and wonder. What if she doesn’t like it here? What if she tries to make Dad move?
I can’t leave. My best friends live here, my pony grazes just down the road from our house, even the tiny bedroom up under the eaves of our house is part of the fabric of my life that I’ve carefully woven together in the past few months.
What if she wants to come in and unpick all of that, and weave it into a new pattern with herself in it too?
“You okay?”
I nod. “Fine.”
It’s the first time in a while that I’ve lied to my father.
“Man, I hate my mother!”
I sit down next to Tegan on the bus and look at her deep scowl. “No you don’t.”
Tegan flips her thick black ponytail over her shoulder and her dark brown eyes glower. “Sometimes I do. She won’t stop going on about buying me a new pony. You’d think that after telling her a thousand times that I’d rather die than have her replace Nugget that it would get through her thick skull, but no.”
I shake my head at her, knowing how this conversation will go. My best friend’s difficult black pony is a bone of contention between her and her mother, who is desperate for her daughter to move onto something a bit safer, and more competitive. Nugget is a clever jumper, but he’s not up to the bigger heights that both Tegan and I aspire towards. But Tegan has trained Nugget herself, and she won’t hear a word said against the wilful gelding.
“So let her buy you one. Then you have two! Sounds good to me.”
But Tegan shakes her head. “It won’t work like that, trust me. We have
a three-horse float. That’s Lizzie’s pony Tish, Maddie’s pony Hamlet, and one space left for mine. And if I have a new pony, Mum will insist that I take it out to ‘give it a chance’. And then it’ll need another chance, and another one. And she’ll have bought me some pushbutton robot pony, and it will win everything just to spite me, and there’ll be no excuse to take Nugs instead of the stupid new pony. And if I ever try Mum will be all like ‘I paid too much money for that pony for it to sit in a paddock’. So Nugs will never get to go anywhere, and then Mum will decide one day that he’s going to waste because I’m not competing him anymore, and she’ll make me sell him and it will be the worst day of my life.”
Tegan’s voice goes faster and faster until all of her words run together in one sentence. A few months ago I wouldn’t have been able to follow her conversation, but I’ve spent enough time around her now to decipher her ranting.
“All right settle down, it hasn’t actually happened yet,” I remind her.
“And it’d better not. If I get a new pony, Nugs will be as good as dead,” Tegan replies. “I’ve poured my blood, sweat and tears into that pony, and I’m not giving up on him just so that Mum can see me win things. My sisters might like it that way on their stupid poncing show ponies, but I want to earn my success.”
I can see Tegan’s point. Despite his many challenges, Tegan has made Nugget what he is today, and he has won quite a few classes for her. And every victory she has with him is a bigger victory for herself – and a victory over her mother, which possibly counts for even more in Tegan’s book.
“Fair enough,” I say amenably, but she’s not done complaining.
“I just wish Mum would bugger off and leave me alone!”
Her words sting, and I bite back immediately. “Careful what you wish for,” I mutter.
Tegan’s hand flies over her mouth, and she looks immediately guilty. “Oh crap, sorry. I didn’t mean…”
In the face of her obvious regret, I feel embarrassed for her, and quickly offer reassurance. “I know you didn’t. But you only get one mother, and when she’s gone, it…well, you don’t get another one.”
