Read Paycheque Online

Authors: Fiona McCallum

Paycheque (46 page)

BOOK: Paycheque
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Claire sat back, buckled her seatbelt and awaited the safety demonstrations. She was suddenly very weary. Their weekend had been jam-packed with trying to see as much as they could fit in.

They'd consulted the tourist brochure and decided to try and visit all the natural sites. But in the end they got sidetracked by wineries, art galleries, a honey farm and a sheep dairy. While she'd really enjoyed what they'd done, Claire was a little disappointed that they hadn't got to the other end of the island. Derek promised to bring her back for her next birthday, and David and Bernadette had joined in on the pact.

In the car on the way from the airport to the Adelaide Hills, she was glad they'd taken the extra day and come back on Monday morning. Jack had called to say Will was available that afternoon and they'd decided the time was right to put Paycheque through his paces. She was both excited and apprehensive.

Jack, Will, David, Bernie, Derek and Claire were standing at the fence down the long side of the paddock they used as a racetrack. Maddie warmed Paycheque up and then did a lap at a fast canter.

‘Righto, open him up,' Jack called, as she went past them to start her second lap. They watched as Maddie crouched low and then, as if he were a spring uncoiling slowly, Paycheque's stride lengthened and he shot forward. His stride went from three beats to four where all four hooves left the ground for an instant. After three months,
Paycheque was finally galloping again. Claire bit her trembling lip. She, Jack and Will watched through binoculars for the slightest sign his injury wasn't holding up, as he and Maddie made their way around the far side of the paddock. Claire let out a sigh of relief as they went past again. Everything was still looking good.

‘Pretty good time, too,' Derek said, holding out a stopwatch for Claire to see.

‘Look Dad.'

‘Not bad,' Jack said, nodding.

‘Not bad? It's bloody brilliant!'

At the far side of the paddock Maddie brought the horse gradually back into a steady canter and then a trot. Will had warned her not to pull him up too quickly and risk jarring his tendon. Finally the bystanders had stopped leaping about hugging each other and crying out with excitement and delight, and were calmly chatting amongst themselves when Maddie came to a halt in front. They clambered around her, some patting the horse, others patting Maddie on the legs.

Back at the stable they all stood around while Will gave him a going-over. They all held their breath as he stood up, stretched his back and patted the horse on the neck before declaring him sound. They erupted into cheers, startling the poor little horse.

Jack grinned. ‘Think it's time to break out the champagne.'

They were sitting, waiting for two batches of Claire's soup to defrost in the microwave, when Jack cleared his throat and began to speak.

‘Derek, now you're almost part of the family, I was wondering if I could pick your brain.'

‘Sure.'

‘It's about the Spring Carnival.'

‘Yes?'

‘Well have you entered for any of the spring races over in Melbourne?'

‘Cavalcade is qualified for the Cox and I've got Humble entered in the Caulfield, but he's yet to qualify – you?'

‘We've never gone before but I've been thinking about it – you only live once.'

‘Really? You didn't tell me,' Claire said, pouting.

‘Jeez Claire, give a bloke a chance. I only opened the latest newsletter over the weekend and saw the reminder that nominations were due soon. You were away, remember?'

‘But the cost, the logistics. Even if we could afford it, where would we stay?'

‘That's what I wanted to discuss with Derek. Old Scrubber Fitzpatrick has been offering me his stables forever, but I've never had the talent worth taking. I reckon both Howie and Paycheque might just be the ones.'

‘I agree,' Derek said.

‘But the fees,' Claire said. ‘Final declaration for the Caulfield Cup alone is over twenty grand. And then you've got all the other costs. We just don't have that sort of money, Dad.'

‘I'd be happy to help out.'

‘Derek, we can't…'

‘Claire's right. Derek, it's very kind of you to offer but we couldn't.'

Claire got up to check the soup. As doubtful as she'd been, she couldn't help feeling disappointed.

‘So, Derek, how long are you going for?' Jack asked.

‘Probably the whole two months – that's how long Jackson's going for.'

‘Two months?' Claire said, unable to hide her disappointment.

‘Claire, I wouldn't dream of not asking you. I just wanted to know exactly what I was doing before discussing it.'

‘I couldn't be away that long – wish we could go in our own right,' she said.

‘Well maybe you will; it's still a couple of months away. A lot can
happen in that time. Why don't you nominate them – only costs five or six hundred – and then worry about them qualifying.'

‘Derek, you're not listening – the final declaration fee for the Caulfield Cup is almost twenty thousand dollars. We just don't have the money for such a huge gamble.'

‘It's only money.'

Fine for some
, Claire thought, beginning to doubt whether two people with such clearly different attitudes to money could work long-term. She shook away the thought.

‘Oh, Claire Bear, I almost forgot,' Jack said suddenly. ‘Some mail came for you Friday – mustn't have caught up with your new address. It's over on the bench by the phone.'

Claire got up to retrieve the items. One was a clothing catalogue, another was an offer for a new credit card. ‘Maybe we should sign up for this,' she said, tossing it onto the table.

The last item was a business-sized envelope with Sydney G.P.O. return address in the top left corner. She opened it thinking advertisers were getting craftier by the day. Inside was a letter on the letterhead of the insurance company Keith had dealt with.
Oh God
, Claire thought.
What now?
It had been months since they'd notified her of their ‘final decision' not to pay out on his vehicle and life policies. That reminded her: she hadn't had a response since writing to the Insurance Ombudsman. That was ages ago. Should she follow it up?

As she unfolded the letter something fell to the table. Claire ignored it and read. The colour drained from her face and her hands began to shake.

‘What is it?' Derek and Jack asked together.

‘This fell out. Looks like a cheque,' Maddie said, holding it out to Claire.

‘Oh! My! God!' Claire said, staring at the letter in one hand and the cheque now in the other. Her mind was swimming.

In stunned silence she reread the figure at the bottom of the letter,
trying to keep track of the zeros. It said the accompanying cheque was for three hundred and seventy-eight thousand dollars.

Just when she'd finally managed to banish his memory to the far corner of her mind, Keith was effectively securing her future from the grave – her future with another man.

Chapter Thirty–nine

Lying in bed that night, Claire was still surging with a heady mix of emotions. Derek held her tightly to him, not even hinting he wanted to make love.

‘I'm here if you want to talk about it,' he whispered, kissing her on the forehead. Claire hugged him tighter, and buried her face in his smooth soft shoulder. She started to cry. He stroked her hair and offered soothing words of comfort, which made her cry harder for a few moments. She was annoyed with herself for being so ridiculous. Why should she feel guilty anyway? Keith
would
want her to be happy, wouldn't he?

Derek had said months ago that he thought you never
got over
the pain and loss, but rather
got through
it to the other side, where life went on but was different. It had taken him two years to even consider looking for a new partner. Was she callous to feel so much for someone so soon? Or was it different for Derek because he'd had a daughter to raise and protect?

The kittens, as if sensing the emotion in the room, made their way
across the pillows behind Claire and Derek's heads, pausing to sniff at the tears on Claire's cheek. She laughed at the playful paws patting away her troubles and reached up to stroke Bill, the gentler natured of the two.

Ben, sensing he was missing some fun, launched himself onto Derek's chest and tried to snuffle his way under Claire's hair. He put his wet nose in her ear. She and Derek erupted into a fit of giggles, sending the cats leaping about the bed, pouncing on imaginary mice they thought were moving under the quilt.

Slowly they quietened down and curled up at the end of the bed for a nap.
They really are the best medicine
, Claire thought with an inward sigh. She eased herself up onto an elbow and looked at Derek.

‘Derek, I'm really sorry. It's just taken me by surprise, made me think about things I didn't want to – hadn't – for ages.'

‘I know. You don't have to explain, and you certainly don't have to apologise. I've been through it too, you know,' he said, pulling her back to him and kissing her tenderly on the lips. ‘Just promise you won't bottle things up. I want you to feel that you can talk to me about anything.'

‘I do,' Claire said, and genuinely meant it.

Claire was deep in thought as she slowly munched her way through her toasted muesli. Derek was reading the morning paper. She was glad he'd decided to wait until after the peak hour traffic before heading to the office.

‘Derek?'

‘Hmm?'

‘Can I have your honest opinion?'

‘Of course. On what?' he said, looking over his paper.

‘Do you really think it's worth taking Howie and Paycheque to Melbourne? It's just, now I've got the money…'

Derek put his paper down. ‘Absolutely. As you rightly said the other
night, horseracing is a big gamble, but I certainly think their form is up there with the best of them.'

‘But we're just small fry from the bush.'

‘So are the majority of trainers out there – it's only the media who'll have you think it's just the big boys with all the money that do well. They figure so prominently because they have the numbers. But if you looked into the stats you'd find success is pretty evenly spread. You've seen how much it costs to enter the group ones. That's what excludes the smaller outfits – not the quality of their training, or their horses.'

BOOK: Paycheque
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