Paycheque

by Fiona McCallum

  ‘Least the journos will be too busy watching the big guns – they usually are.’

  ‘Small mercies. Cup of tea?’ she asked, getting up.

  ‘Yes, thanks.’ Derek opened The Age and went straight to the sports section. Claire stood by the kettle, waiting for it to boil.

  ‘I just wish we could do something – I hate him being so unhappy,’ she mused.

  ‘Least he’s still eating.’

  ‘Like I said, small mercies.’

  ‘Uh-oh.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You wouldn’t believe it, Claire, but you’ve made the paper.’

  ‘Great,’ she groaned. ‘So much for Gai and David hogging the spotlight. Here, let me look – it can’t be good.’

  ‘It’s only tiny, just on the side.’

  ‘Give it here,’ Claire growled.

  ‘Well okay, but you’re right, it’s not good.’ He gave a sympathetic wince as he turned the paper towards her.

  The small bold title read: ‘Paycheque should be “canned”, says former owner.’ Claire’s mouth dropped open. She read on:

  South Australian horse Paycheque showed some of the form that saw him previously banished to the abattoir. Former trainer Todd Newman said, “Difficult is an understatement. He was a bloody menace. Ate too much. Had a shocking temper. He deserves to be canned – literally.”

  ‘Only because you don’t know how to handle horses,’ Claire growled before reading on.

  Stewards at yesterday’s meet at Werribee might possibly agree, after the horse put up a fierce battle at the barriers before finally relenting to run last by what could only be described as a country mile. One can only wonder at trainers Jack McIntyre and daughter Claire’s logic in nominating the horse for the Caulfield Cup.

  ‘Jesus. It’s humiliating,’ Claire said, pushing the paper aside and rubbing her hands over her face. ‘And why would Newman care enough to comment anyway?’

  ‘Because he was asked. You know what he’s like – always looking for his five minutes of fame. Probably feeling threatened too – heard around the traps how well the horse he’d condemned was doing.’ Derek shrugged.

  ‘What am I going to do? It’s a bloody disaster.’

  ‘Nothing you can do. You can’t make a horse behave any more than you can control what these idiots write. You can only do your best to get the horse in a good frame of mind. Then it’s up to him.’

  ‘How, though? I don’t even know what’s upsetting him. It’s not like he’s on his own, and Howie seems fine.’

  ‘But he hasn’t been through what the little guy has. We all handle pressure differently. Could be he’s just picking up on your stress.’

  ‘I am stressed. What if all the progress we’ve made with him this year has been lost?’

  ‘You need a different approach.’

  ‘Like what? Seriously, Derek, if you’ve got any suggestions, I’m listening.’

  ‘Take the pressure off him.’

  ‘How do I do that?’

  ‘By taking it off yourself for a start. You’re already a success because you’re here: he’s qualified for the Caulfield Cup. Treat the rest as a bonus.’

  ‘I can’t put him in it like he is.’

  ‘So don’t. What does it matter?’

  ‘Well the money for a start – it cost us a bloody fortune.’

  ‘See, there’s my point – too much pressure. Claire, the money’s spent, gone. Let it go.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘It’s like people who insist on eating everything on their plate at a restaurant, even when they’re so full they feel sick. What do they achieve?’ He shrugged. ‘The meal is the same price, regardless of how much is eaten.’

  Claire threw her hands up. ‘So, I’m meant to pretend none of this matters?’

  ‘Yep. Just chill, enjoy the ride. Continue with your plans, but lose the high expectations.’

  Claire thought about what Derek had said. It made perfect sense, if only she could do it. But she had to, didn’t she, for Paycheque’s sake. He’d come too far to become a nervous wreck again. If only she’d inherited more of her father’s easygoing genes.

  That night they went to the pub for tea, all keen to escape the unravelling of their dreams. But they’d been seated less than five minutes before Paycheque again became the main topic of discussion.

  ‘So, what’s different for him here than at home?’ Derek asked.

  ‘Everything, nothing.’ Maddie shrugged. ‘He’s stayed in plenty of other stables and been fine. He’s eating and drinking okay, so he can’t be too distressed.’

  ‘Unless he’s eating for emotional security,’ Claire offered.

  ‘God, surely not,’ Derek scoffed. ‘Are they capable of that, like people?’

  ‘Don’t see why not,’ Claire said.

  ‘I don’t know about you people, but it’s driving me to drink. Anyone else?’ Jack said, getting up.

  ‘You stay put, Jack. I’ll get them,’ Derek said.

  ‘Don’t. You make me feel like an old man. What are we all having?’

  ‘House red, whatever it is, thanks Dad,’ said Claire.

  ‘Just another water for me thanks,’ said Maddie, before continuing her conversation. ‘He’s better during the day – other than being a bit cranky, which could be lack of sleep.’

  ‘So, what’s different at night here than at home?’

  ‘Well it’s no quieter, no noisier – except for the commotion he’s creating. It’s a bit on the chilly side but I don’t think it’s that. He’s moving about enough to keep warm. I had to swap the thick under-rug for the lighter one. Oh I don’t know, it’s doing my head in!’

  ‘Mmm, me too. Now, changing the subject, I’m ringing Bernie later to check on things. Any messages?’

  ‘A cuddle for Terry and Sandy from me,’ said Maddie.

  ‘Suppose you’re missing them keeping your feet warm at night?’

  ‘No, they don’t sleep with me. They chose early on to stay in the stables. Probably spend all night hunting mice.’

  Derek slapped his leg. ‘Oh well, there’s your problem! Your horse is missing all the night-time activity so he’s creating some of his own,’ he said with a laugh.

  ‘I thought they slept with you,’ Claire continued, ignoring Derek.

  ‘You’re kidding! They purred so loud that I turfed them out after the first night. And Sandy snores. It’s quite cute but it’s enough to keep a person awake,’ Maddie said.

  ‘Or put you to sleep, if you like that sort of thing,’ Claire said thoughtfully, staring at the table.

  Maddie noticed her father blush slightly. ‘You a snorer, Dad?’

  ‘Not that I was aware. Something you’re trying to tell me, Claire, darling?’

  ‘What? Sorry? No, not you – well only sometimes. I was thinking about Paycheque. What if the cats’ snoring and purring helps him sleep?’

  ‘Utterly ridiculous,’ Derek sneered. ‘Whatever next?’

  ‘Well it is something he has at home and not here,’ Maddie said.

  ‘Should I scout about, see if I can borrow some cats so you can test your little theory?’ Derek mocked.

  There was silence. Claire chewed on her bottom lip in total concentration. Maddie watched her. It was a full minute before she spoke.

  ‘I’m going to see if Bernadette can put them on the plane. What do you think, Maddie?’

  ‘We don’t have any other ideas and, quite frankly, I’m at the point where I’d do anything to get a decent night’s sleep – and I’m sure Howie would agree.’

  ‘Have you both gone completely mad? How are you going to keep them here? Tie them up with a miniature halter and lead-rope? They’ll try and find their way home – it’s what cats do.’

  ‘We’ll have to hope they don’t. They settled at the farm okay. Maybe they’re missing Paycheque as much as he is them,’ Maddie said.

  ‘Hopefully that’s the problem,’ Claire said.

  ‘I feel it m
y duty to point out to you, Claire McIntyre, that I think you are totally insane.’

  ‘Thank you, Derek. Your comment is duly noted,’ Claire said.

  ‘Well I don’t think it’s so different to the group bringing that Shetland pony – Henry, I think his name was – out from England to keep Jardines Lookout company,’ Maddie said, picking up her menu.

  Jack put a tray of drinks on the table.

  ‘Jack, you’ll back me up, won’t you? I’m being ganged up on here,’ Derek said.

  Jack held his hands up in surrender. ‘Sorry mate, not against these two – they’re always right. What is it this time?’

  ‘They’re only going to fly in two cats to keep a horse company! Whatever next?!’

  ‘Like Henry the pony? Good idea if it improves Paycheque’s disposition – cantankerous bastard tried to take a piece out of me before I left. And old Fitzpatrick’s getting worried his stable’s going to be destroyed.’

  ‘Jesus, I’m surrounded by nutters,’ Derek groaned, putting his head in his hands.

  ‘And that’s why you love us so much,’ Claire said, draping an arm around his shoulders.

  ‘So, who’s for a big juicy steak?’ Jack asked, rubbing his hands together.

  Maddie groaned. ‘I have weights to make, remember? Maybe in a couple of months.’

  ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to tease you,’ Jack said.

  ‘The smell of steak is but a distant memory,’ she said with a resigned sigh. ‘I’ll have the warm chicken salad – minus the dressing.’

  Chapter Forty–two

  ‘I hope they’ll be all right,’ Maddie said, poking a finger into the carry box on her lap where the two cats huddled. ‘I don’t think they liked flying much: they look terrified.’

  ‘Pity we didn’t think to bring them in the car and save them the trauma. Not long now. You’ll be all right,’ Claire said, addressing the carry box. ‘At least they have each other.’

  ‘Look, we’ve got a surprise for you,’ Maddie called to the horses. Paycheque and Howie’s heads appeared over their gates. Maddie and Claire each took a cat from the box and held the wriggling creatures up for the horses to see. The wide-eyed felines took in their surroundings and gradually calmed. Paycheque stretched his neck out and nickered as he sniffed the closest, Sandy. Howie blew a gentle puff of hot air at Terry, who threw out a paw and whacked the horse on the nose.

  ‘No claws. That must have been a friendly wallop,’ Maddie said, and laughed.

  ‘Hey, Sandy’s purring,’ Claire said. She could feel the gentle vibrations through her rugby top.

  ‘So is Terry,’ Maddie said, holding the smaller of the two up so his stomach was at her ear. ‘Think it’s safe to put them down?’

  ‘We’ll have to do it sometime.’ They squatted down and released the cats. Terry and Sandy looked about briefly before disappearing together into Paycheque’s stall. Claire and Maddie leaned over the gate to watch, and laughed when the cats went to separate corners and dug holes in the sawdust. The cats stopped mid-dig to look back at them.

  ‘Sorry, we’ll give you some privacy,’ Maddie said, turning her back to the stall. Claire followed suit.

  When they turned around a few moments later, the cats were climbing into Paycheque’s empty feed bin, the curious horse snuffling at them playfully.

  ‘Let’s set up their food and water out here. That way Howie will get a look-in. He seems just as pleased to see them,’ Claire said.

  ‘I could watch them for hours,’ Maddie said with a contented sigh.

  ‘Me too – might just do that yet. Make sure they’re not going to run away.’

  Derek appeared behind Claire, putting his head over her shoulder. ‘How’s “Operation Feline” going?’

  ‘So far, so good,’ Claire said, turning her head and kissing him on the cheek.

  ‘So, they’ve arrived safely then,’ Jack said, peering over Claire’s other shoulder.

  ‘Yep. Tonight will be the big test,’ Claire said.

  ‘So, how did we sleep?’ Claire asked Maddie the next morning, when she came into the caravan for breakfast. Jack and Derek looked on.

  ‘Like a baby,’ Maddie said, beaming as she squeezed into the booth next to Jack.

  ‘What, woke every four hours and cried?’ Derek said.

  ‘Dad, you’re so hilarious. Not,’ Maddie said, slapping at him across the table.

  ‘So, you slept all right – the horses were quiet?’ Claire asked.

  ‘Yes and yes!’

  ‘Mere coincidence,’ Derek said.

  ‘You wish, Dad. I’ll have my twenty bucks now, thanks,’ she said, holding out a hand.

  ‘But there’s actually no proof it was the cats.’

  ‘And no proof it wasn’t.’ Maddie shrugged, snapping her fingers. Derek reluctantly pulled his wallet from his pocket and removed a twenty-dollar note. He slapped it on the table in front of his daughter.

  ‘Pleasure doing business with you,’ Maddie said with a treacle smile.

  Claire laughed to herself at the similarities between father and daughter. ‘So, I want the full report.’

  ‘Well when I last checked at around eleven-thirty, Paycheque was curled up with both cats wedged against his chest. I wish I’d had a camera, it was so cute. This morning Sandy and Terry were off roaming around, checking their new kingdom, and Paycheque was at his gate looking bright-eyed – like his old self. I’d better give him a decent workout on the lunge before I get on – looks too full of beans.’

  ‘How’s Howie?’

  ‘Good, even calmer. His resting heart rate is back to what it is at home.’

  ‘Great, so we’re right back on track then,’ Jack said, clapping his hands together.

  ‘I still don’t believe it was the cats,’ Derek said later, when he and Claire were again alone.

  ‘You don’t have to, darling. Remember,’ she said, batting her eyelashes, ‘the world’s bigger than us – some things are beyond our control.’

  ‘Yep, I deserved that,’ he said with a wry laugh.

  Claire reflected on the race with a great sense of relief as she made her way back to the stalls. Paycheque’s introduction to the turf at Caulfield had been drama-free. Although he’d finished mid-field in his race, it was more due to an unlucky start than anything else. Team McIntyre was definitely back on track, so to speak, she chuckled to herself as she strode on. Hopefully all would go well with Howie as well. Claire was at the gate marked ‘Authorised Entry Only’ when a voice called from behind her.

  ‘Claire McIntyre?’

  She stopped and turned. ‘Yes?’ A middle-aged man in a battered straw fedora waved an arm at her. He hurried to catch up with an uneven, almost skipping gait. A large stomach hung below his belt and wobbled back and forth with every step. A lanyard dangled from his neck, but whatever was on it was covered by the notepad he clutched to his chest. The heavy creasing of his short-sleeved lemon shirt stopped where his stomach strained against the buttons.

  ‘Bill Holloway,’ the man said, puffing and thrusting out his hand. The beginnings of sweat glistened in the stubble just below his dark grey sideburns. As Claire returned his rough handshake she wondered where she’d heard the name. ‘The Age, sports,’ he added with a gasp.

  ‘You want to interview me?’

  ‘Yes, would you mind?’

  ‘I think you’ve got the wrong person. I train the horse that came fifth.’ She laughed, and moved to push the gate open.

  ‘Damn sight better than at Werribee.’

  Claire stopped. Something clicked in her mind. ‘Ah, you’re the one who wrote that piece in the paper.’

  ‘Yeah. Hey, quite the turnaround – what did you do?’

  Claire shrugged. ‘Just needed more time to settle after the trip. He’s new to travelling.’

  ‘No way. What I saw last week was nothing to do with post-travel nerves. He was a total fruitcake.’

  ‘Gee, thanks – I imagine you got that from Todd Newman as we
ll.’

  ‘That’s why I’m trying to talk to you.’

  ‘Why, exactly?’

  ‘To get the full story. That horse has true potential.’

  ‘Really?’ Claire said with unmistakable sarcasm. ‘Bet you didn’t get that from Todd.’

  ‘No. So come on, what did you do between then and now? He’s like a different horse.’

  ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’ Claire threw her head back and laughed.

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘Look I really don’t have time – I’ve got another horse to get ready.’

  ‘Hazardous Waste. Yes, I know.’

  ‘You’ve certainly done your homework, Mr Holloway. Sorry, but I really do have to go,’ she said, checked her watch and made to move on.

  ‘It’s Bill, and I’m happy to wait.’

  ‘Well you’re welcome to, but I’ll be a while.’ Claire offered an apologetic shrug. She held up her pass, got the nod from the security officer and pushed the gate open.

  ‘Who’s your friend?’ Jack said, pausing from towelling down Paycheque to indicate towards the man still standing at the gate.

  ‘Some journo. Wants to talk about Paycheque.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He wants to know what we’ve done to bring about such a miraculous change since Werribee – he’s the one that wrote that small piece quoting Todd Newman.’

  ‘So, what are you going to tell him?’

  ‘Don’t know if I’m going to tell him anything.’

  ‘But aren’t you going to at least talk to him?’

  ‘Haven’t decided. You can if you want. Toss you for it.’

  ‘No thanks. They don’t want the ramblings of an old fart.’

  ‘Maybe he’ll find someone more interesting before I get a chance.’

  Derek strode towards the gate where the journalist was still waiting.

  ‘Bill Holloway, how the hell are you?’

  ‘Derek, old mate!’

  ‘Editor of the sports section yet?’

  ‘Not exactly. I’m lucky to even get a by-line half the time.’

  Claire stood listening, hidden by Paycheque.

  ‘Hey, aren’t you connected to Claire McIntyre?’