Jacob’s phone rang, and he jumped up, glad of the interruption, his book landing on the ground with a small thud. He’d spent the last couple of days with The Palace, trying to get in touch with the punter’s club. Other team mates had emailed the club with the same response, and the only person Rachel had connected with the scam was a fellow called Driscoll. He’d disappeared too. He knew he should just ring Rachel and ask her about it, update her on what was happening, to see if she knew anything else. If only it was simple, and she hadn’t bolted from his car like a scared rabbit, not wanting to be with him anymore. Damn it, even putting aside his complicated response to Rachel, he needed advice on what to do for his mates. If only all his downtime hadn’t been spent rehashing the conversation with Allira. He wanted to know what had happened when Rachel was sixteen. Something big, Allira had said. Presumably something traumatic to make Rachel prickly, hiding behind a bold exterior. He wanted to break this uncertainty between them and ring her, except there wasn’t much to say except that they’d guessed correctly. It was a scam, and people had lost considerable sums of money. He couldn’t call her, not when she didn’t want him. Frustrations boiled over into fidgets. He tried to pass the time in the usual off-season ways, but he couldn’t even train properly with his injured knee, just walk lengths of the pool, or do arm work.
‘Dad, what’s up?’ Jacob answered his phone.
‘Rachel has been injured.’
‘How bad?’ Jacob’s whole world stopped at those few words. The drama between them could be benched, he only needed to know she was going to be okay.
‘She got attacked at the racecourse this morning, and—’
‘Dad. How bad?’ Jacob paced, yelling at his dad’s ridiculous calm voice.
‘She has a broken nose and both eyes are blacked, but that seems to be the worst of it.’
‘But she’ll be alright?’ He asked the most important question. Surely Dad wouldn’t be fluffing about with other parts of the story if she wasn’t going to be okay.
‘Yes.’
Relief seemed to make his bones lighter than normal, his lungs expanded with air. She would be okay. His Rachel.
‘Where is she?’
‘The ambulance took her to Royal Melbourne.’
‘I’m on my way.’ Jacob grabbed his car keys and wallet. He tucked his phone between his head and shoulder as he put on his shoes.
‘Drive safe, son. You don’t need to rush. She’s in good hands there.’
‘With Allira?’
‘No, but Allira was on shift in ER when she came in. She rang me because she didn’t have Rachel’s family’s contacts.’ Allira rang Dad first—before she’d talked to him? What had Rachel told his sister about the reasons they’d broken up?
‘Surely Merindah Park has a website with all their details on it.’ Jacob sneered to cover his own doubt. He had so many questions for Rachel—once he knew she was okay. He had to see her. Beg her. His fingers fumbled with his shoelaces.
‘Funny you say that, son. Even an old bloke like me can google stuff! Her family are on their way in from the farm.’
‘Allira said you’d want to know, and the two of you seemed pretty tight the other day at the farm.’
‘I think I love her, Dad.’ Jacob admitted it for the first time aloud. He pressed his hand against his chest, his pulse racing erratically as he realised just how true his statement was. It’d been Dad’s comment at their farm about Mum, a throwaway joke, and yet full of truth which reflected on how Jacob saw Rachel.
‘Hell, son, why are you still talking to me then? Get yourself to the hospital. Allira knows which ward she’s in.’ Dad hung up, leaving Jacob no choice but to obey. His hands shook as he dragged on a shirt. Rachel had been hurt. His blood roared in his ears, the sense of being winded returning just like the day she’d broken up with him. The second Dad had said Rachel was hurt, he knew the truth. He loved her. This wasn’t a bit of a fun romp with a bold athlete, this was real and forever. He didn’t bother to finish tying his shoelaces, his shaking fingers couldn’t manage the dexterity required. His heart raced, blood buzzing in his veins—he needed to see her now—as he rushed out of the house, barely remembering to lock the front door. Car. Drive. Hospital. Now. His thoughts became fractured and urgent, each second spent away from her taking too long. She had to be okay.
The sight of Rachel in a hospital bed, surrounded by equipment, slayed him. Her eyes were swollen shut by colourful bruising, with a sharp red line across the bridge of her nose. He rushed to her side, his hands outstretched to hold her hand.
‘Rachel. It’s Jacob.’ He touched her hand and she clasped it tight.
‘You came.’ The weight in her voice gave him hope that he meant as much to her as she did to him.
‘Of course, I came.’
She opened one eye a crack, and peered at him through swollen lids, a slow smile growing on her face. ‘Thank you.’
‘What happened?’
‘Fucking Driscoll happened, that’s what.’ Her voice hardened.
‘I meant with your face.’
‘Oh, I’ve probably broken my nose, and you can probably see the black eyes.’ Her smile grew.
‘Damn, you are tough. How can you grin while lying here with a broken nose?’ No wonder he loved her. Her determination came with a decent dose of humour. She knew what she wanted, and she chased after it with everything she had. If she ever decided he was worth the same effort … He swallowed. Loving someone who didn’t yet love him back seemed poignant in the hospital where Allira worked. An act of selflessness that made his chest tight.
‘Because I floored the fucker. Have the cops caught him yet?’
‘That’s my Rachel.’ He squeezed her hand. He would be here for her, love her, and not worry about whether she loved him back. Wasn’t that love at its finest? ‘What do you mean, the cops?’
‘Did no one tell you?’
‘Nope. Allira told Dad you were here, so he could tell your family.’
‘But not you?’ Rachel tried to sit up.
‘Relax.’
She lay back against the pillow and he stroked her wrist with his thumb. Jacob had figured it out as he’d driven to see Rachel.
‘I’m guessing Allira didn’t want to interfere with you and me. She knew we’d had a fight, so she got Dad to tell your family. Dad rang me after ringing your farm. Your family are on their way, by the way. Allira was on the ER shift when you came in, and I’m guessing she didn’t have your family’s contacts.’
‘Why your dad?’
‘Same town?’ He shrugged, ‘Now what is this about the cops?’
‘Driscoll attacked me.’
Rage filled his veins, hot and heavy, and he bounced on his toes. ‘That fucker.’
‘Yeah.’ Her smile grew and she squeezed his fingers. The simple gesture relaxed him away from the brink of an angry outburst. She didn’t need his anger when she was hurt. She needed his support. Love was what he had to offer her.
‘I told Allira when I arrived in the ambo from the track, and she said she’d pass it on to the cops. But it’s been hours since then and nothing …’
‘Hours? Was this at work this morning?’ Jacob asked.
‘Yeah. What’s the time now?’
‘It’s only lunchtime. These things take time. I’ll chase it up if you want so you don’t have to tell the story more than once.’
‘Thank you.’ She paused, and he started to leave, but she grabbed his hand and held on tight. ‘Hey, I’m sorry I overreacted the other day. It’s just you were late, and I freaked out a bit.’
‘It’s okay. Allira told me you—’
‘What?’ Rachel barked out the word with a desperate note in her voice.
‘Settle.’ He wanted to wrap her in a big hug, comfort her but wasn’t sure where he could touch her without hurting her injured body. ‘Allira said it wasn’t her story to tell, but I should ask you.’
‘Okay?’ Rachel tried to frown, and flinched, her whole body wincing in pain. He reached up, automatically, to brush her hair and soothe the pain, stopping before he touched her.
‘Where are you okay to touch? I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘Just my eyes, nose, and forehead are the worst. I have a bit of bruising on my shoulder, but it’s nothing, really.’
Next time he saw this Driscoll bloke, his fist would find the asshole’s face. ‘I wish I’d been there.’
‘At trackwork? Why would you have been at work with me?’
‘Just because it makes no sense, doesn’t mean I don’t want to have done it. I could have helped you.’
‘I sorted it out myself, just fine.’
‘Yeah, it certainly looks that way.’ Sarcasm probably wasn’t the best plan right now. Jacob rubbed his temple, she was so damned tough and self-reliant, not needing or wanting his help. She was breaking his bloody heart, and she didn’t even know it.
‘Driscoll, the fucker, attacked me, and I headbutted him with my helmet. It slipped as I did it and smashed the bridge of my nose. A couple of strappers helped me to the ambo. It’s not that big a deal, I’ll be back riding in a week once the swelling goes down enough for me to see. I just want him found.’
Rachel’s insistence that she’d be riding racehorses so soon after being attacked made him want to both shake her for being ridiculous and congratulate her for knowing what she wanted.
‘I’ll text Allira and see if the cops are coming.’ He remembered his sister mentioning that ER doctors had to call the police when someone came in with an assault injury, to check that they knew about it and were investigating.
‘Thanks. I hope he’s hurting too.’
A loud knock interrupted, and a couple of uniformed police officers nudged the door open.
‘Rachel Bassett?’
‘Yes, that’s me.’
‘We need a statement from you. A Mr Driscoll has accused you of assaulting him.’
A muscle in Rachel’s jaw clenched.
‘I think it’s obvious who has been assaulted.’ Jacob told the two officers.
‘And you are?’
‘Jacob Mullagh. Rachel’s partner.’ He flicked a glance at her. Her mouth stayed in a tight, thin line. At least she didn’t protest against his claim.
‘The footy player?’ one of the officers asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Shame about your knee. We might have won without that injury.’
He shifted his shoulders a little at the untimely compliment, ‘It’s a team effort. One player doesn’t win or lose a match.’
‘Maybe, but you have a talent for making space and setting up the plays.’
Jacob schooled his snarl back to neutral. ‘How about we focus on Rachel, and how this Driscoll character assaulted her at her place of work this morning?’ There was no point pissing off the cop trying to be nice even though he couldn’t help be sarcastic.
‘Ms Bassett, Mr Driscoll has made a formal complaint that you broke his nose this morning.’
Rachel made a throaty spluttering noise as if she was trying to hold back a long sequence of swear words.
‘Your injuries indicate that his story may not be the whole picture. Can you tell us what happened?’ the other officer asked, flipping languidly through a notepad for an empty page. The shuffling paper complimented the regular beeping of the machines in the ward.
‘I’d just finished riding Justa Lad, and was walking towards where Shelley ties her horses up in the morning to ride Darnation, when someone grabbed me and pulled me between the sheds. He pushed me up against the wall and wanted to know where his money was.’
Jacob bit back a gasp. Wasn’t Driscoll the guy Rachel suspected?
‘What money?’ the officer asked.
‘That’s the thing, right. I had no idea what he was talking about. He spat in my face, and said my agent told him I had his money.’
‘What money?’ the officer repeated.
Jacob cleared his throat. ‘A couple of my team mates joined a punter’s club, and, well, long story short, Rachel asked her sister about it, and her sister said it might be a scam. My mate found out yesterday that they’ve taken all his money and disappeared.’
‘Oh shit, The Palace?’ Rachel asked.
‘Yeah, and a few others. The email they used for communication is broken. And the guy who recruited them has disappeared.’
‘Driscoll?’ Rachel asked.
‘No. The Palace got recruited by the V8 driver, Max Bianchi, and he mentioned a Daniel Poulos.’ Jacob said, as the officer scribbled furiously in his notebook. Rachel shifted awkwardly in her bed.
‘I think Driscoll got scammed too. He seemed to think that I had his money.’
‘Why you?’ Jacob and the officers spoke together.
‘Fuck knows.’ She paused, then gasped. ‘Oh, no. I know why. He said something weird and I’ve just remembered what it was. He asked my agent, Matthew Walton, about the money, and Matthew told him I had it. That dodgy asshole.’
‘Who?’
‘My agent. The scam is his. It has to be.’
‘Can you contact him?’
‘Yeah, his number is on my phone.’ She inhaled quickly, ‘Blast, my phone is in my car at Flemington.’
‘You don’t know his number?’
‘No. Why would I? It’s saved in my phone.’ Rachel twisted against the pillow as if she’d tried to shrug but it hurt.
One of the officers spoke, ‘What sort of agent is he?’
‘I’m a jockey. He arranges all my rides with different trainers and sends me a text each day with the meeting and list of horses. I confirm that I want to ride each one, and he lets the trainer know who does the update with Racing Vic.’
‘And you pay for this?’
‘Yeah. Five per cent of my earnings. It’s totally worth the money. I don’t want to spend all my spare time ringing trainers and begging for work.’
‘And does he do this for other jockeys?’ the officer asked.
Rachel started to shake her head, a rueful grin on her face, then winced, pain wiping away her smile.
‘Absolutely. I hardly earn enough for me, let alone enough to pay a full-time agent. If he wants to eat, he’d need to have at least ten other jockeys on his books. Plus, he can ring one trainer and set up rides for several jockeys, so it makes sense for him to have a bunch of clients.’
‘Right. I was wondering about that, because if he’s only making a fraction of what you earn, then he’s motivated to use his knowledge of racing to scam people.’
‘That’s entirely plausible. He complained the other day that bloodstock agents have it good because they get to spend huge amounts of their client’s money, while he struggles along on the amounts we earn for him. He doesn’t have any big-name jockeys on his books, just a bunch of sometimes city riders like me, and some country riders, so he can’t be pulling a huge income.’ Rachel bit her bottom lip.
‘Other than that, has he given you any indication that he might be running a punter’s club?’
‘Why would he? He’d know I’d take him to the stewards if I suspected any dodgy shit. I have a reputation to maintain.’
Jacob swallowed back a sharp intake of breath. So did he. All along he’d been stressed that getting involved with Rachel, and by extension horse racing, would dent his clean reputation and ruin his future as a lawyer. He needn’t have worried. She had the same singular focus. She just had a dirtier mouth than him. Warmth filled his body, the final hurdle in his love for her conquered—apart from her loving him in return. He eased out the breath, slightly shaky at the lack of guarantee.
‘The stewards?’ asked one of the officers.
‘Racing police, or at least, that’s the easiest way to describe what they do. They have loads of power to sort through people’s betting accounts and shit, so they’d be a great place to start if you need information. Ring Racing Victoria and ask for the chief steward.’ For Rachel to give advice to the cops on how to do their job was so on brand Jacob had to fight not to laugh.
‘Thank you.’ The officer replied tightly. Jacob’s stomach muscles clenched as he kept his laughter inside.
‘Would you like to press charges against Mr Driscoll?’ the other officer asked.
‘Only because he’s doing that against me.’ Rachel’s answer made it almost impossible to hold his amusement inside and he crossed his arms in front of his guts. ‘I reckon if you can find Matthew and get Driscoll his money back, he’ll be bound to drop the silly trumped-up charges against me.’
‘We’ll be in touch.’ The officers left and Jacob held his breath until their footsteps faded away.
‘That fuckwit. I mean, he’s always been weird, but shit, to do this is a dog act. I wish I had my phone.’
‘Who? Your agent?’
‘Yeah. Who else would be I mad at?’ Rachel’s sneer made Jacob grin. He wanted to stand beside her as she lived her life with her wonderful attitude, and he hoped she would let him.
‘Don’t tip him off. Let the cops find him.’ Jacob reached out for Rachel’s hand again, his thumb stroking over the racing pulse in her wrist. ‘Rest, get better, and let them sort it out.’
‘I hate lying here, not being able to see properly. Not being able to do something.’
‘I understand.’ He gently lifted her hand to his lips and kissed.
‘Hey! What are you doing?’ Her response was so perfectly Rachel, the laughter he’d been holding back burst out, and he replaced her hand on the bed before doubling over, his hands on his knees.
‘Jeez, Jacob, what is wrong with you?’
He straightened up and smiled, even though she probably couldn’t see through her bruised, swollen eyes.
‘Ever since I met you, I’ve wondered the same thing. It turns out this lack of balance is a symptom of falling in love.’
‘What are you talking about? Who have you fallen in love with?’ The jealousy in her voice stretched his smile across his face.
‘A brave, bold, fascinating—’
‘What are you talking about?’ She paused, then gasped, her eyes almost opening. ‘Fucking hell, Jacob, did you mean me? Are you falling in love with me?’
He cleared his throat, ‘Not falling. Fallen. I’m in love with you, Rachel.’
‘Well. Fuck me. I told you not to do that.’ Bright pink splotches on her cheeks added to the vibrant colour on her face. He slapped his hand over his mouth, holding back another wave of laughter.
‘Sometimes you can’t control everything, Rachel.’
‘But. But it was just sex, Jacob. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I’m supposed to be concentrating—’
‘On your career, I know. I’ve heard it all before. Can’t you have both?’ Rachel sighed, ‘That’s the problem. I’ve chased love before, and every time I’ve been burned. I can’t trust people, and now my bloody agent has proven that too.’
Jacob clenched his teeth. He’d picked the worst time to declare his love to someone who didn’t trust people, if Rachel really mattered, he’d need to prove to her that she could trust him.
‘Is this to do with what happened when you were sixteen?’
‘Are you psychoanalysing me now?’ Her hand bunched into a fist on the side of the bed.
‘No. Just that Allira said something happened, and I should ask you. It would help me understand you better.’
Rachel made a clicking noise with her tongue. She was probably rolling her eyes underneath all that bruising.
‘Yah for Allira. Yes, a bunch of girls in Tranquil Waters were shitty to me. It doesn’t mean anything. Allira is freaking out, reading too much into it. It’s not that big a deal.’ Rachel’s shoulders shifted towards her neck, tension radiating from her bed-stricken body. Jacob didn’t want to push her into revealing the story, not when it obviously hurt more than she wanted to acknowledge.
‘It’s cool. If you say it’s no big deal, it can wait until you want to tell me.’ He drew in a deep breath, ‘But know this, Rachel. I love you, and I want to be here for you.’
‘You are confusing good sex with love. It’s not love you feel, just lust.’ Her lip curled up in a sneer, her cheeks still flushed with colour. Hell, she was so determined to push him away. He pushed his fist against the ache in his chest.
‘I understand my feelings, Rachel. But if you want me to leave, I’ll do that.’ He leaned down, kissed her taut fist, and started to leave before he broke down and begged her to let him stay. As he reached the door to her room, he turned for one last look at his Rachel, battered and bruised—all alone—yet so brave in the hospital bed. He paused, suddenly understanding that if he left, it would be for the last time—what she really needed was someone who could stand beside her, be there for her. True love meant sticking around. Slowly he walked back towards her bedside, and sat quietly in a chair, waiting for her.