In an hour Faith would be gone – flown to Paris. Sam concentrated on the road, on finding the airport turn-off, steeling herself against her mother’s constant stream of words. ‘You mustn’t move those two into our house while I’m away,’ said Faith, her voice taut with anxiety. ‘It’s just too hard for me, Sam – I can’t have Mary taking over my home as well as my daughter.’
Sam’s grip tightened on the wheel until her knuckles were white. Careful now. Faith would soon be in France. A long month away, breathing space for them both. ‘Why would you think that, Mum?’ she said. ‘I never said anything about them moving in.’
‘I’ve done my research. Charlene won’t be able to return to that backwater with her mother, not for ages. They’ll need ongoing treatment in the city and they’ll be looking for somewhere to stay. Don’t tell me Mary Kelly can afford to pay for accommodation here in town.’
‘I don’t know if she can afford to or not. It’s none of my business, and even less of yours.’
‘As soon as they know I’m gone, they’ll work on you,’ said Faith. ‘That Mary is a gold-digger, you can see it a mile off. Try to take advantage … and with you so naive …’ Faith shook her head in disgust. ‘I wish you’d change your mind and come with me. We could take a later flight.’
‘For the umpteenth time, Mum, I’m not coming.’
Faith let out a great sigh.
Sam repeated the secret mantra beneath her breath – jabberwocky, jabberwocky, jabberwocky – a psychological ploy she used to trigger a calm response in the face of extreme provocation. ‘You’re right about Charlie not being able to go home. She needs to stay in Melbourne for a couple of months. But don’t worry, the Leukaemia Foundation is putting her up in an apartment. Mary’s already there.’
‘She is?’ asked Faith. ‘You’ve seen it?’
Thank God. The airport was in sight. Not long now. ‘Yes,’ said Sam. ‘I’ve seen it.’
‘Where is it?’
‘In East Melbourne somewhere.’
‘What’s it like?’ asked Faith.
‘Nice,’ said Sam warily. ‘Room for one patient and one carer. There’s a rooftop gym, and a pool. Even an organic grocery store nearby.’ She was about to say what a fan of organic produce Mary was, but bit her lip in time.
‘Why on earth didn’t you tell me? Don’t I deserve to know anything?’
Past long-term parking, swinging around towards the international terminal. ‘You get upset when I mention Mary,’ said Sam. ‘I didn’t want to upset you.’
‘Why?’ demanded Faith.
‘What a stupid question!’ said Sam. ‘I didn’t want to upset you because I love you.’
‘You do?’ Faith’s face softened and she reached a hand out to stroke Sam’s arm.
‘Yes, I do love you,’ Sam repeated, and then, under her breath, ‘God knows why.’
‘I’ll see you off, Mum, then I’m going out to the stables. It’s been ages since I saw Pharaoh.’
For some reason, her mother seemed in a sudden hurry. ‘No need, just let me out, darling.’ Sam swung into the passenger drop-off lane and helped Faith with her bags.
‘I’ll be fine,’ said Faith, taking charge of her monogrammed Louis Vuitton luggage. ‘Call you when I get to Mamie’s. And have a lovely Christmas, darling.’ Sam embraced her in a mighty hug, like the bear hugs she used to give when she was small. Faith’s face lit up in a smile. ‘You’ll crush my suit,’ she complained, but they both knew she didn’t mean it. They both knew this was the very best possible note on which to say goodbye. Sam watched her mother stride off on her ridiculous heels, holding her breath until Faith disappeared into the crowd. Sam tossed her keys in the air and caught them with a deft flourish. Finally she could start living her life, her way. She couldn’t wait to tell Pharaoh.
‘Oh, that horse? That one ain’t here,’ said Brodie.
‘I can see that for myself.’ Sam had checked all the private turn-out paddocks – no sign of Pharaoh. She waited for an explanation, pretty confident no sensible one would be forthcoming. She’d have to spell it out. ‘So where is he?’
A slow, sleazy smile spread across Brodie’s pinched features. ‘Dunno, Miss. All I know is it’s gone. Some bloke loaded it on a float yesterday and took off. Ain’t seen it since.’
Why was she wasting her time talking to this creep? He probably couldn’t tell one horse from another, and there were half a dozen chestnut thoroughbreds at the stables. Perhaps Pharaoh was in the wrong loosebox? Sam turned to go.
‘Sal reckons your mum sold that horse.’
Sam stopped short. She swung around, her stomach coiled in nasty knots. ‘What did you say?’
Brodie’s face creased into a malicious grin. ‘Nothing.’
‘You said Pharaoh’s been sold.’
‘Did I, Miss?’
He deserved a good slapping. Instead Sam sought out Sally, the stable manager. She was in the office, on the phone, a mug of coffee in hand. Her cheerful face fell when Sam came in. ‘I have to go,’ said Sally, ending the call in obvious haste. Her expression was disturbing – Sally looked like she was preparing for a fight.
‘I’m sorry, Sam.’
So, it was true. ‘Where he is?’ Sam’s voice broke with emotion, with rage and grief and disbelief.
‘Pharaoh’s gone to Andrew Wolf,’ said Sally. ‘He was most impressed. You should be proud.’
Sam wanted to scream, accuse, demand to know how Sally could have done it. How she could take Pharoah away, cast him into the unknown, without Sam’s affection and protection. How Sally could face work and phone calls and coffee, all the while knowing that this moment would come. The moment when she’d have to confess the terrible thing she’d done.
‘Get me his number,’ said Sam, her voice hard. Sally looked unsure for a moment, then handed Sam her phone. Sam scrolled through the numbers, found Andrew’s and rang it. The conversation did not go well.
‘Sold by mistake, you say? I don’t think so. I have the signed transfer papers.’
‘My mother signed those. She doesn’t own Pharaoh. I do.’
‘According to the papers,’ said Andrew in an infuriatingly pompous tone, ‘Faith Carmichael was the horse’s registered owner. She told me about how you’d lost interest. It happens all the time,’ he said, like he understood everything. ‘You girls discover boys, and, well, horses take a back seat, don’t they?’ Sam tried to speak, but Andrew talked over her. ‘Shame to see Pharaoh going to waste like that.’ There was a long silence. Sam got the dreadful feeling that there was no point trying to defend herself against Faith’s wicked allegations. ‘Are you saying this isn’t your mother’s signature on the transfer?’
Sally sipped her coffee while Sam explained that Faith was Pharaoh’s owner in name only, over and over again. ‘I haven’t lost interest. That’s ridiculous. I broke him in myself when I was fifteen, and I’ve been the only one ever to ride him.’
‘That’s not quite true,’ said Sally in the background. ‘Rachael worked him sometimes.’
Sam ignored her. ‘Please, he’s my life! You have to send him home. You just have to.’ Her voice was a stammer. ‘I didn’t even get to say goodbye.’ But it was no use. Andrew just kept repeating that Faith had signed the transfer, rubbing it in again and again. Rubbing in her mother’s ultimate betrayal. Sam threw down the phone and fled. She had to talk to Charlie.
Charlie rewound her outlandish scarf, a colourful cane-toad print this time. ‘Mothers are like that,’ she said sagely. ‘They rip out your heart one minute, and then expect you to keep right on loving them the next. If she’s anything like my mum, she’ll twist this around until it’s all your fault.’
‘Mary does that too?’
Charlie nodded, swung her legs off the bed and stood up. She still looked so frail. If only they could leave the damned hospital and go to a bar or something. Drown their sorrows, make a plan to get Pharaoh home. But it was clear just from one glance that Charlie’s recovery was going to be long and slow.
‘Can’t you just buy him back?’ asked Charlie. ‘Isn’t your family loaded?’
‘I’ve tried,’ said Sam. ‘The buyer won’t budge. And anyway, there’s a limit of ten thousand on my credit card. That’s not nearly enough.’
Charlie whistled. The sound was surprisingly strong and melodious. ‘How much is Pharaoh worth, then?’
‘A lot more than that. It’s ironic, isn’t it? I spend all year training him, and now he’s worth so much, I can’t afford him.’
Charlie pulled a tissue from a frog-shaped box, gently lifted her sister’s mask, and wiped the tears from her face. The gesture was as sweet as it was unexpected.
‘I’m going to miss him so much.’ Sam’s words erupted in short gasps, like she’d been winded. ‘He was all I’d ever wanted. How will I live without him?’ Charlie murmured soft words of consolation, but her expression of sympathy only provoked in Sam a further flood of self-pity. ‘There’s nothing left,’ she managed, between sobs. ‘Dad’s away, and he’s always been too busy for me anyway. I don’t have any proper friends. Except for Cate, and she’s gone too. Pharaoh was it … All I had. There’s nothing left for me here in Melbourne. Nothing at all.’
Charlie reached out, stroked Sam’s hair and shushed her. ‘There are lots of horses back home at Currajong.’ She said it in an odd tone, as if the remark was imbued with some secret significance.
Sam blew her nose behind her mask, a great honking blow. ‘So?’
‘So you go home to Currajong for Christmas. Home to Brumby’s Run.’ Charlie slipped from the bed and fetched a box from the cupboard. Beneath some action shots of Charlie campdrafting lay a battered stockman’s hat. Charlie handed it to Sam. ‘For you. My lucky akubra. Try it on.’ Sam did as she was asked, catching her reflection in the mirror. She looked just like the girl in the photographs.
‘You already said that there’s nothing for you here,’ said Charlie. ‘The house back home is empty, and the stock need checking. Mum asked Max to look in on the place, but he’s a dodgy old bastard. You’d be doing me a favour.’ Charlie pointed to the horse in the pictures. ‘Tambo could use some TLC.’ Sam took a long look at the photos. ‘Well?’ asked Charlie, with a broad smile. ‘What do you say?’