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?’
‘Yes. I hate that old-fashioned notion that a horse should stay in work when shinny. The owner agreed, sent him here for a spell and pre-training, liked what we did with Biographical and we’ve been lucky enough to keep him.’
‘But he hasn’t raced since he was an early two-year-old. That’s nearly eleven months away from the track?’
‘Because the stupid trainer pushed him too hard, instead of giving him time out in the paddock early in the piece. He’s good enough to have run in the Slipper.’
Rachel grinned, ‘You wouldn’t be training him if the trainer had done the right thing. And now you have a promising three-year-old about to enter his classic season with form on the board.’
Shannon smiled slowly, ‘He gets on well with Serena. It’s weird, because she doesn’t usually click with the colts, doesn’t push back enough when they want to rule the world. Biographical seems to respond to her though.’
A guilty weight pressed down on Rachel’s shoulders. She’d come out to the farm with only the horse in mind, and a million buzzing worries about Jacob, and hadn’t spared a single one of those thoughts for her twin.
‘Where is she?’
‘No idea. If she didn’t come down from the house to watch you, maybe she’s gone into town or something. I don’t think she was riding today. She might be.’ Shannon shrugged carelessly.
‘Thanks bro, so helpful.’
‘Anytime.’
Rachel nodded goodbye to Shannon, but he’d already disappeared into a box to check one of his horses. She paced through the racing stables towards the little family cemetery on the hill behind the house. The tiny fenced paddock sat alone on a rolling hill about a furlong’s walk on the other side of the homestead, and was filled with all the family graves, dating back to, well, she didn’t actually know. She’d never given it much thought, had only gone in there to visit Dad, something she didn’t do often enough. Would Merindah be buried there with everyone else? Jacob had been cynical about it, probably for good reason, but Rachel couldn’t help the build up of hope in her chest, each step towards the cemetery leaving the heavy guilt behind, as a lightness pulled her up the hill. Talking to Dad might give her some answers and finding Merindah in the family cemetery would be amazing.
Climbing the hill with long strides didn’t usually make her heart beat like this, loud thumps in her chest cavity, increasing in speed and volume as she approached the little family cemetery. John must have had the sheep in here recently, all the grass was cropped short, making the cemetery look neat and tidy, with all the gravestones standing up to attention. Rachel paused long enough to look around her. The view over the farm from here was amazing, probably one of the best spots on the farm, definitely the best spot near the house, and a slightly better view than the one from the house’s veranda. She marched right up to Dad’s grave, her fists swinging beside her.
‘Dad,’ she choked out his name, battling the ugly cry welling up, ‘I wish you’d been here. It’s been the most magic few weeks. Fuck, Dad, you’d be so proud.’ The tears overflowed, streaming down her face, ‘You always said I had the ability to win a Group One, and you were right. I did it.’ She swallowed, blinking hard, and let out a long shaky breath.
‘I fucking did it, Dad. Twice!’ She squeezed her eyes shut, dashing away the last few tears, her heart trembling in a combination of joy and hurt.
‘Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for pushing me when I was down. Hell, I wish you were here to raise a glass with.’ She breathed in the country air, spring grass, gum trees, the cool wind from the mountains, and a content settled understanding rolled over her. The farm would always be home, no matter how much she loved her city life. Being here, and talking to Dad, reminded her of how proud he’d be of her achievements.
‘I miss you, Dad. So bloody much. I wish I could ask about Serena, and about Jacob, and shit, about this mess in my head.’ Rachel stared out over the farm’s front paddocks. Dad’s grave truly did have the best view, angled directly at the front gate and the sign declaring Merindah Park to the world. The wind whispered, seeming to quietly say Dad’s favourite phrase, ‘Money lost, nothing lost. Confidence lost, everything lost’. Rachel’s head jerked up, chasing the wind, as a chill ran across her shoulder blades.
‘Dad?’ she murmured. Had she imagined that? She kicked the ground, Dad’s most used saying constantly rattled around her head, so it was probably just her own brain tricking her. She shook out her hands and wandered around the small cemetery hunting for Merindah’s grave.
‘Hey, Rachel, are you alright? I saw you standing up here for ages.’
‘Serena.’ Rachel’s voice cracked as she flinched at Serena’s sudden presence. ‘I’m fine, just wishing I … had more time to come here more often.’ The last part of her sentence galloped out in a rush of breath. Rachel knelt beside the old sandstone block and brushed her hand over the indents and ridges carved into the stone. Time had worn away most of the writing, the sandstone whittled away by the weather, leaving only indecipherable grooves. She pulled back the grass at the bottom and uncovered a phrase protected by the grass: ‘Beloved wife of John Bassett.’ The line above might be dates, but she couldn’t work them out. A rush of wonder filled her veins. Could it be?
Serena’s sharp tone interrupted Rachel’s discovery. ‘I’m sure you’ve had time. It’s been nearly a year since you visited Dad.’
‘How do you know?’ Rachel rocked back on her heels and glanced up at Serena, who stood with her arms crossed.
‘I live here, Rachel. I know how often you come home, and I remember things like that.’ Serena’s throwaway comment about not being on the farm often enough punched her in the gut. Did Serena not remember why she didn’t come back to Tranquil Waters?
‘Yes, it’s been a while. What of it?’
‘You don’t have to get all defensive.’ Serena didn’t seem to see the irony of her statement as she stood in the cemetery with her arms folded and a mulish look on her face. Rachel stared back at the driveway. Nothing. When would Jacob be here? In moments like this one, Rachel wondered if Serena understood what had happened that day when they’d both been sixteen. But maybe she didn’t—after all, she’d been having her own party with her own friends. Mama had taken them to the nearest big town to see a movie. The whole drama around having separate parties, for the first time ever, was seared on her memory. Why had she pushed for that option? Maybe if she’d gone along with Serena’s choice, instead of wanting to have her own party and be seen as her own person, not half a twin, her life would be different now. She stared out over the distance and tried to see if she could imagine a different life. A life without Static Alarm, or Darnation, or learning about Merindah. Imagine not having Jacob in her life. Shit. Her whole torso clenched at the idea of a life without him. Oh fuck, she’d fallen hard for him. She pressed her hands against her stomach.
‘Are you ok? You look like you are going to vomit.’ For the first time, Serena’s voice filled with her usual empathy, soft and caring. Rachel managed to shake her head and stood up, brushing her fingers over the rough sandstone of what she hoped was Merindah’s gravestone.
‘I’m fine. It’s hard being here, I miss Dad.’
‘So do I.’ Serena gathered her up in a hug, and Rachel let herself be held by her twin. She shut her eyes, rather than continue to scan the driveway for Jacob. Needing him to arrive, to tell him what she’d discovered, built in her stomach. She wanted to shed Serena’s hug and run far away. The same nagging desperate need for Jacob had so many ugly parallels to her past that she almost couldn’t bear being here. It suddenly reminded her of the gratitude she’d had when Lisa had arrived at the pub after Static Alarm’s win. Shit. Shit. This was all bad. She’d fallen for him, fallen far too hard, and she didn’t know if she could extract herself enough to be strong and independent. She had to make space between her and Jacob before it was too late, and she lost herself completely.
‘Are you sure you are okay? You’re trembling,’ Serena said. Rachel tugged herself free from Serena’s hug.
‘Yeah, just a bit cold. That wind, you know.’ Rachel brushed off the concern. Reality was too hard to discuss now, not here where grief sat close by, complicating everything. She glanced at her phone, and once more at the driveway. Jacob was ten minutes late. What if he didn’t turn up? She blew out a series of short breaths, trying to stop her heart racing into panic. What if he’d been in a car accident on the way here? Oh fuck, she couldn’t bear to think of him hurt somewhere out there on a country road. She tried to slow her breathing and shoved her phone back into her jeans. What if she’d misread the whole thing and he didn’t want to spend time with a queer girl? What if he’d decided they had no future? What if … Her lungs stopped working, her breath so shallow she couldn’t even summon enough air to swear about it.
‘Come inside and have some tea. You are shaking with the cold.’ Serena gently held her hand and pulled her towards the house.
***
Rachel pressed her fingers against her temples as Jacob drove up the driveway to Allira’s house. He’d only been half an hour late, armed with apologies about The Palace and his dad talking too much and losing track of time. It didn’t matter. Her tension headache slowly ratcheted up through the long drive. She’d pretended to sleep in the back seat, letting The Palace’s chatter wash over her, as she tried her best to ignore the way her body hummed in Jacob’s presence. If she couldn’t rely on him to turn up when he said he would, without even a fucking text or anything, she couldn’t rely on the way her body reacted to his either. And now they arrived at her house, after dropping The Palace off, just the two of them. Should she continue letting Jacob into her bed? Her body wanted it, but the way her brain needed him, and would be grateful for any attention he paid to her, made her fight against the comfortable silence. She couldn’t do it. She’d couldn’t succumb to this desperate need. Combined with the sick feeling she’d had when he hadn’t arrived on time, she knew it was time to get away. She had to be alone and strong.
‘Are you getting sick?’ Jacob turned off the engine, resting his hands on her shoulders.
Rachel made the hardest decision of her life, ‘Yes. Do you mind if you don’t stay tonight?’ She heard his quick intake of breath, his hurt making her want to abandon her desire to be strong and let him comfort her.
‘If that’s what you want.’
‘It’s what I need.’ At least that was the truth. She needed to not need him, even though she suspected it was already too late to be making this decision. Her heart ached at the necessary choice, her blood turning to ice in her veins. Better to be cold and correct than to deal with him betraying her later. She didn’t think she’d survive that and had to get out first. She’d barely coped with him being thirty minutes late, she didn’t need to imagine how devastating it would be if he stopped being there at all.
‘Okay. Do you want me to come in and tuck you in?’ His cheeky grin broke her heart. She wanted to keep him forever, safe against her chest, where he’d always be there for her. She pushed away the fantasy. He’d already proven he wasn’t reliable, not in the way she needed.
‘Thanks.’ She squared her shoulders and lifted his hands off her body. ‘Look, I think it’s best if we don’t see each other for a while. It’s become too intense. I have a plan and a life to live and I can’t be waiting around for you.’
‘What?’ His face dropped, all the cheekiness replaced by hurt and confusion.
‘I’m sorry.’ She choked on the words she had to get out before she pleaded with him to be there for her. No one could possibly be trusted to always turn up for her. Even Dad had pushed her away for her own good. Well, no more. She would do the pushing, even when waves of nausea flooded her body and her mouth filled with bile. She leaped out of the car, grabbing her shoulder bag and phone, before she could change her mind and ran inside, her chest heaving.