by Renée Dahlia
‘Tell me about him.’
Rachel breathed in sharply, ‘You remember at the races the other day, when Darnation won, you said you recognised him after he had a go at me after the protest.’
‘Is he the guy who was standing beside you? Yeah, I’ve seen him somewhere before.’ The Palace started rubbing his eyebrow.
‘Where?’ Jacob asked.
‘Mate, if you badger me about it, I’ll never remember.’ The Palace shrugged tightly.
‘Yeah, give me something concrete, and we can take it to the stewards. They can investigate.’ Rachel waved her hand in a dismissive action, and Jacob wondered if she cared about anything except herself. He still didn’t understand how Allira could be such good friends with her, unless it was simply her bold energy that attracted Allira. His sister was just like his mother, nurturing, caring, full of empathy for everyone, while Rachel had a don’t-give-a-fuck attitude about people, seemingly only caring about her career and success. Luckily they were just having great sex, a bit of fun, nothing too serious, because Rachel was nothing like the person he’d imagined he’d end up with.
‘Why is the field all yellow?’
‘Oh, Dad experiments with growing local plants for market. There are loads of restaurants in Melbourne who want bush tucker, so he’s figuring out which ones are best to grow, and which ones people want to eat.’ Jacob wondered if he should go into any detail about the yellow daisy yams in that field, or the purple Glossodia orchids that Dad was trying to grow in commercial quantities.
‘Cool. Yeah, bush tucker is going to be the next big thing, I reckon,’ The Palace said.
‘What would you know?’ Rachel asked. Could he hear a sneer in her voice? It matched the one in his head, wondering if the world would ever value his culture like he did.
‘Mate—I eat. I read the paper.’ The Palace slapped him lightly on the shoulder, a gesture of solidarity. ‘Laugh as much as you want, but I reckon it’s cool that the world finally wants to understand.’
‘Just the digestible bits, though,’ Jacob scoffed.
‘Ha, nice pun. Sure, small steps, though mate.’
Jacob ground his teeth, he didn’t want this conversation right before getting out of the car to see his parents. And the idea of introducing Rachel to his folks had seemed easy back in Melbourne; right now his stomach tightened. Maybe he should have dropped her at her farm first, not invited her to lunch with his parents.
His parents stood on the front porch of the small wooden cottage, his dad’s arm casually slung around his mum’s waist. They’d always been solid, his parents, the perfect loving relationship, even in the hardest times. He remembered the arguments they’d had when he’d won his scholarship—both of them trying to work out what was best for him—stay close with the family for loving support, or take the opportunity. Every weekend, they’d taken the bus into the city to spend time with him, dragging Allira with them, so he’d never missed out on family time while he lived away. And every holidays he’d come home to their little rented place on the edge of Tranquil Waters; his dad working as a farm contractor, and his mum cleaning people’s houses, all to give him and Allira the best chance at a good life. Life had been tough for them, and good for him because they’d cared for him. Seeing them together was a stark reminder that their life was the life he wanted—the good life wasn’t about success on the sporting field, or a clean reputation and a law degree. It was about a nurturing relationship, true love, and finding someone who cared deeply about you. Rachel bounced out of the car, and he followed her as she virtually ran up the steps to see his parents. His mum threw a hug around her.
‘Rachel Bassett, how are you?’ Mum said. Rachel’s answer was all muffled.
‘Is Allira looking after you?’
Rachel stepped back out of the hug and shook Dad’s hand. ‘I can look after myself, Mrs Mullagh. Your place is looking great.’
‘Son.’ Dad stepped forward and threw his arms around him. Jacob loved the way his parents were so openly affectionate, with each other, and with him. He hadn’t given much thought to the future of his burgeoning relationship with Rachel, but seeing his parents made him want what they had.
‘How’s the knee?’ Dad stepped back a bit, glancing down at the injured MCL.
Jacob smiled, ‘It’s fine. A minor tear, nothing that time won’t heal.’
‘How much time?’
‘Doc says about ten weeks.’
‘And he’s given you a program to work on?’
‘She. The team doc is a she, Dad. And yes, she’s put together a program to strengthen up the support system while letting the ligament heal. It should be fine for the pre-season.’
Dad shook his head, ‘Allira would be mad at my assumption.’ He smiled ruefully.
‘Probably.’ Jacob grinned, seeing his sister’s expression last night in the hallway, which naturally brought the image of Rachel, nude and feisty, to the front of his mind. He swallowed.
‘Let me introduce Willem Grandhomme, Dad, we call him The Palace.’
‘Hey.’ The Palace waved his hand awkwardly, then shook Dad’s hand as he stuck it out. ‘Great to meet you.’
‘The Palace? And what does the team call Jacob?’
‘They call me Lawless.’ Jacob spoke with quiet resignation.
‘Is that one of those ironic names?’ Mum interjected.
Rachel laughed, a deep throaty one, ‘Yeah, like how Melbourne’s memorial to Harold Holt is a swimming pool.’
‘Something like that.’
‘Who is Harold Holt?’ The Palace asked.
‘He was the Prime Minister, ages ago, like way before I was born. Anyway, he drowned while swimming at the beach, so of course, we now have the Harold Holt Memorial Swimming Pool,’ Rachel said.
‘I thought everyone knew that,’ Jacob said. ‘I used to swim there for school carnivals. You’ve been there, Mum.’
‘Not all of us went to a fancy private school, Jacob.’ The Palace said with an over-the-top wink.
‘Scholarship. Look around, Mr Grandhomme, you think we could afford a school like that without some footy club wanting sports stars?’ Mum said.
‘It’s okay, Mum, The Palace is jesting. He always makes dumb jokes whenever he’s uncomfortable.’
The Palace shoved him on the shoulder, ‘Says you. Lawless here always refers to the data and the precision of language whenever he’s bothered by something. He’s the worst to argue with—why do you think we call him Lawless? Because he’s a goddamned lawyer about everything.’
‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’
‘Hey, you two. Stop bickering. Come inside for lunch.’ Mum disappeared inside the cottage, and Rachel followed, stopping to take off her boots and leave them beside the front door in a neat pair.
‘And take off your shoes, just like Miss Bassett here. Her manners are excellent,’ Mum’s voice called out from inside the house.
‘Just well trained, Mrs Mullagh.’ Rachel followed his mother inside the house, leaving him standing next to The Palace and his father on the dusty driveway.
‘We’d better go in as well. You know your mother, she heard you had two friends coming and she’s gone slightly overboard with the lunch. I hope you are hungry.’
‘Always, Dad.’
‘Jacob says you grow Indigenous foods. Do we get to sample some?’ The Palace asked.
Jacob couldn’t make out his dad’s expression. ‘The Palace is a big foodie, he follows all the trends.’
‘Excellent. Let’s talk some shop, and after lunch, you can taste-test some new fruits I’ve been growing in the greenhouse.’ Dad thumped The Palace on the back, then waved them both inside. ‘Don’t forget your shoes, boys.’
‘I wouldn’t dare, Mr Mullagh.’ The Palace had a little tinge of awe in his voice as he walked up the three wooden steps onto the porch. Jacob saw one of the steps wobble, and he turned to his dad.
‘Dad, do you mind if I stay out here in a few weeks. I can do so
me maintenance around the house for you.’
‘I’m capable of fixing my own stairs, son.’
‘I know. But I also know you’d rather be in your greenhouse and your fields. Let me help a little with the boring stuff, free you up for the things that matter to you.’
‘You’re a good son, Jacob. Just as your Rachel is a good friend to Allira,’ Dad said.
‘She’s not my Rachel.’ Jacob’s mouth suddenly parched as he realised he might want her to be.
‘That’s not what Allira says.’
‘Ha, you can’t trust gossip, Dad. Rachel and I are just having a bit of fun. It’s not serious.’
His father roared with laughter, throwing his head back, ‘That’s what I said about your mother, and now I get to look back at thirty amazing years with an incredible woman.’ ‘Hmmm.’ Jacob made an uncommitted sound. His parent’s relationship had stood the test of time and thrived even during the toughest of days. It set an impossible benchmark for himself—he’d long ago figured he’d never find someone to love in the same way his parents found each other.
‘She’s got a lot of energy, she’ll be good for you.’
‘Let’s go and eat. We don’t want to disappoint Mum,’ Jacob said awkwardly, as his father continued to laugh. He wanted to know when Dad had known Mum was the one—he’d always assumed it’d been instant. He’d chased that instant connection, kind of, enjoying the thrill of the new beginnings over and over. Maybe it took time, like Dad said, it hadn’t been serious at the start, not until he fell. He followed him up the steps, taking his time to remove his shoes. He doubted he’d ever be as lucky as Dad.
Chapter 16
Rachel jumped off Tsuyoi Red after riding him at a slow steady walk around the training track. Shannon had picked her up from Jacob’s parent’s farm after lunch and had expressed his frustration that her distance made it impossible to do fast work on the big bay during the week. She’d agreed with him and told him he was welcome to bring the horse into Flemington the night before, so she could ride him in the morning. Too much hassle, he’d said, and anyway, now she was here, she could ride him for his afternoon walk, rather than using the walking machine. She reminded Shannon that she’d ridden the horse every day when he was in quarantine, so it wouldn’t take much to renew the connection between them. And she’d been right. The big bay stallion had flicked his tiny ears and wandered with his head long and low, nice and relaxed, as they walked the outside of the grass track over the last hour.
Rachel pulled off the heavy stock saddle and led Tsuyoi Red over to the hose bay. He hadn’t sweated at all during their walk, however, a good clean always made a horse feel well for the next day. Efficient movements had the horse washed down quickly, and she scrapped off the excess water before towelling him dry, massaging his muscles as she went. He’d tightened up nicely since she’d last seen him, and still had that lovely loose stride. A real middle distance classic type. Shannon strode over as she finished up, and checked each of his tendons, and stretched out his legs.
‘He’s looking in great nick, Shannon.’
‘Of course. I thought John was out of his fucking mind going all the way to Japan to buy him, but you know, I think we are going to have an incredible spring with his lad. He’s strengthened up as he’s gotten fit too. I’m going to aim him at the Caulfield Cup.’
‘Cox Plate too?’
‘Maybe. Depends on how he pulls up.’
‘Now is probably not a good time to tell you I’ll be riding Darnation in the Cox Plate, then.’ Rachel couldn’t contain the grin at the prospect. Her first ride in one of the big three spring majors.
‘Nice. I’ve nominated him for all three. The Caulfield Cup is the main aim, and I think the Melbourne Cup will be too far, he’s not a true staying type,’ Shannon said.
‘Gotta be in it though.’
‘Absolutely. It’s relatively cheap to do the early nominations, and we can make the final decision depending on how he goes.’
Rachel nodded. ‘Want me to put him back in his box?’
‘I’ll do it.’ Shannon took the lead rope from her and walked the big horse away. Tusyoi Red’s relaxed stride, and easy way of holding himself made him the perfect racehorse. Nothing would faze him, she reckoned. She gasped, if he could relax this well on race day, he might just see out the two miles of the Cup. Could she let herself imagine a Melbourne Cup ride? Barely any women jockeys had ridden in Australia’s most famous race, and only one had won it. Even making the field would be a massive achievement. She followed Shannon back to the boxes with Tsuyoi Red, patting each of the other horses as they leaned out to greet her on the way past. She ran her gaze over the names and pedigrees listed on blackboards outside each box, keeping an eye on Shannon and Tsuyoi Red as her brother led the big horse into his box. Shannon had a few nice colts in this barn—maybe she should spend more time out at the farm, once the spring carnival was finished, and get to know some of the new season’s two- and three-year-olds. The banging of buckets made all the horses lean eagerly over their doors, even Tsuyoi Red shoved Shannon, stepping back out of his box. Shannon gently pushed on the big horse’s chest, backing him into his stable, then shut the door. Rachel turned to help Annie, one of Shannon’s strappers, with the feed buckets.
‘Which one is Tsuyoi Red’s?’
‘This one, and this one is for Biographical, the chestnut opposite. Careful though, he’s very bitey. Bloody colt.’ Annie passed the two feed buckets over, and Rachel carried down towards the two. Biographical was flicking his head up and down impatiently, his long chestnut mane and forelock flopping like a supermodel’s locks in front of a fan.
Shannon chuckled quietly, ‘He’s a great eater that one.’
‘Easier to train a horse that eats,’ Rachel replied, passing the feed bucket to Shannon. He could deal with the colt’s teeth, while she spent a bit more time with Tsuyoi Red before Jacob came to collect her. Jacob. Hell. Hanging out with his parents for lunch had been a lot more fun than she’d expected. His dad’s sense of humour was subtle, while his mum had the same nurturing style of Allira, easing her nerves at meeting them both after so many years away. Rachel hadn’t been prepared for the way they gushed over her friendship with Allira, making all the old mixture of guilt and memories of rejection return.
Her view of herself at high school was quite different to the way Jacob’s parents saw her, and the view of the popular girls had been even harder to take. She’d buzzed along for most of high school, assuming she was one of them. In many ways, she had been popular, good at sport, from one of the town’s famous farming families with hot older brothers and she’d used her vibrant personality to fit in as best she could. The rejection on her sixteenth birthday had shocked her: it was completely unexpected for Rebecca to out her in such a fashion, and before she’d really understood herself properly. Dad had done the right thing by helping her move to the city. She’d buried the hurt deep, tucked it away, never to be looked at again, simultaneously using the time away to figure out herself. In some ways, Rebecca’s bullying had helped her discover ways to be strong faster than she might have learned without the shitty incident. Sitting in Jacob’s family cottage for lunch brought the whole incident stinging back, especially the knowing look of pity on Mrs Mullagh’s face. Allira must have shared the sorry saga when she arrived late that day, all those years ago. She squared her shoulders. She’d moved on since then, and she was bloody proud of how far she’d come. Seeing them shouldn’t have this cutting emotional reaction, the past was the past.
‘Hey, Shannon, I’m going to visit Dad before I go back to the city.’ Rachel gave Tsuyoi Red a final pat and buried her face against his neck. The big stallion kept eating, the rhythmic chewing allowing her to breathe in his perfect horsey smell, deep down into her lungs to banish all the other ugly emotions. Heat gathered behind her eyes. Life was about tough choices—going to the city had been great for her, and her career. The downside had been spending less time with her family, less
connection with Serena, less careless life advice from Dad, less of a relationship with Mama. When times got hard in the city, when the boys club of racing gathered close and shut her out, she craved her family, and the simplicity of the farm. Dad had died three years after she’d moved away, and every day she regretted the time lost with him. Her family had three years with him that she’d missed because … well, because of a decision he’d made for her own good. Had it all been an illusion? Spending lunch with the Mullagh family today made reality crash home. Eight years ago, Dad had helped her make the right choice. She had no regrets. She dashed the back of her hand under her eyes, only to find dryness where she expected tears. She’d spilled countless tears for Lisa, and the loss of trust, and yet now when old hurts and new promises piled up in her guts in a confusing heap, she couldn’t manage to let out any emotion.
‘Thanks for dropping by today.’ Shannon opened Tsuyoi Red’s stable door for her, and she gave the big horse one last pat before leaving him to eat in peace.
‘No problem. He’s improved so much since he got off the plane.’
Shannon laughed, low and quiet, ‘Has he ever! Remember that wanker Driscoll’s reaction. I mean, Tsuyoi doesn’t have the prettiest face, but hell …’
‘Driscoll isn’t the greatest measure for good judgement.’
‘Obviously not. Tsuyoi has a wonderful stride, long and flowing, so athletic. We are going to have an amazing spring.’ The awe in Shannon’s voice made Rachel smile, all her worries dissipating.
‘I’ll win the Caulfield Cup on Tsuyoi Red, the Cox Plate on Darnation, and maybe grab myself a Cup ride.’
Shannon thumped her on the back, and she stumbled slightly before straightening up. ‘Fuck yes. And Serena can win the Guineas on Biographical.’
‘You think he’s that good?’ Rachel shot a look of surprise at her brother.
‘I know he’s that good. You are forgetting he won a stakes race on debut as a two-year-old before he went sore.’
‘That’s right. Shin sore, wasn’t it?’
