On the Right Track Read online

  ‘I’ve been uncomfortable all day. I’m on my way to the doctor now.’

  ‘I’ll drive you.’

  She shakes her head. ‘No need.’ She repositions herself in the seat and grimaces. ‘See you soon.’

  Over two hours later, well after six, I get a call from Elka’s father. ‘Mattie’s blood pressure has gone through the roof. We’re at the hospital now, in the labour ward. Emergency Caesar.’

  The following morning at nine o’clock, Sam sits on the floor in my office and puts toy cars into size order. Elka sits next to him, colouring in with crayons and singing to a Wiggles CD. She insisted on changing her clothes this morning, so she’s wearing one of my pyjama tops, a pink one that reaches her knees, and the fluffy pale blue socks a client gave me for Christmas. I’ve rolled up my jeans and taken off my socks, because my old wellington boots leaked through a split in a side seam.

  ‘Golden?’

  ‘Oh!’

  Tor stands in the doorway. His clothes and face are splattered with rain and his hair is damp.

  He looks at me accusingly. ‘You didn’t answer when I knocked.’

  As I lean across my desk to turn down the CD player, I position my legs so my feet and ankles don’t show.

  ‘I didn’t hear you.’

  He’s wearing black jeans and a navy T-shirt. I’m not surprised to see that his chest and arms are muscular. I’ve felt how firm they are.

  He wipes his forehead with the back of a hand. ‘The door was open so I let myself in.’

  ‘So I see. Why are you here?’

  ‘I called you, a number of times. You didn’t answer.’

  ‘I rarely pick up when I’m working. I was going to call you back later.’

  Sam must hear the tension in my voice. He tilts his head to the side and stretches out his arms. His voice wavers when he speaks. ‘Gold come here.’

  When I sit on the floor next to him he scrambles into my lap and touches my face with a small frightened hand. I pull him close and rest my chin on his spiky black hair.

  ‘There’s nothing to worry about, Sam. Tor is my friend, you’ve met him before.’ I feel Tor’s eyes on my face. ‘Tor? Would you mind saying hello to Sam?’

  Tor squats in front of us. ‘Hello, Sam. Last time I was here, you played with Golden’s cat. He’s called Seashell, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes,’ Sam whispers.

  Tor looks into my eyes. ‘I’ve come to see Golden.’

  I adjust the neckline of my jumper, a faded soft green knit. My legs are still curled under me. My left leg aches, but I don’t want to draw attention to it by straightening it out.

  ‘Sam?’ I say. He cups my face with his hands so he can feel the way my jaw and lips move. I talk through his fingers. ‘Tor said “hello” to you. Maybe you should say “hello” too?’

  Sam looks in Tor’s direction. ‘Hello,’ he whispers.

  I tighten my arms around him. ‘I love to hear your voice. It makes me so happy.’

  ‘I’mmm Elka,’ she says.

  ‘It’s lovely to hear your voice too, Elka.’

  ‘But I got a buuump,’ she says.

  ‘You can try again if you want to.’

  Elka sits up very straight. Her white-blonde hair has already escaped from the ponytail I neatened ten minutes ago. There are wispy strands all around her face. I’ll have to tidy her up before her grandmother arrives.

  ‘I’mmm I’mmm …’ She looks at me with wide blue eyes.

  I smile and shrug. ‘It doesn’t matter, sweetheart.’

  Elka sits next to Sam and me. She fiddles with my hand for a while, tracing around my fingers. Then she looks directly at Tor.

  ‘I got a baby,’ she says.

  I turn to Elka. ‘Very smooth talking. Well done.’ Then I address Tor. ‘Elka’s mother had a baby last night. Elka was here yesterday when Mattie was taken to hospital, so she stayed the night with me.’

  Sam strokes my hair. It’s loose and falls over my shoulders. The ends are still damp. ‘Gold wet,’ he says.

  Elka jumps to her feet. ‘Aaand me. Meee too!’

  ‘Yes, Elka. We got wet when we splashed in the puddles.’

  Elka grasps Tor’s hand and presses it against her hair. ‘See?’ she says. ‘Veeery wet.’

  ‘Yes, I can see that you’re wet. I’m wet too.’ He runs his fingers through his hair. ‘I didn’t use my umbrella in case it frightened the horses.’

  Elka grins. ‘Pepper’s scaaared.’

  ‘I thought she might be.’

  His T-shirt is tight across his chest. I wrench my gaze away.

  ‘You tell Tor what we did to stay dry, Elka. Slowly and carefully so he’ll know what to do next time he goes in the rain.’

  Elka takes a deep breath. ‘We got boots and raincoats.’

  ‘Such smooth talking, Elka. Fantastic work.’

  My leg has gone to sleep and pins and needles numb my foot. I nudge Sam off my lap but I can’t stand yet. Tor watches as I stretch, looking at the raised red scars and misshapen ankle. A blush rises up my neck to my face. Just like I told him under the scribbly bark tree—my body is fragile and damaged.

  ‘Don’t stare,’ I say, holding out my hands.

  He frowns as he pulls me to my feet. When he lets me go and I teeter, his hands grasp my waist. I’d be furious if anyone else touched me like that, but it never seems right to yell at him when I like the feel of his hands on my body.

  I have difficulty making out his words because he speaks so softly. ‘Should I pretend your leg isn’t part of you?’

  ‘It’s not relevant to your investigation. Spy on your criminals, not me.’

  Elka tugs on his arm. ‘My baaaby …’ She frowns in concentration. ‘My baby is a boy baby.’

  Tor finds a smile from somewhere and solemnly holds out his hand. Elka laughs and grabs it, shaking vigorously.

  ‘Congratulations, Elka. On the birth of your brother.’

  ‘Tor has a brother too,’ I say. ‘He loves him very much. He told me he’d do anything for him.’

  A shadow passes over Tor’s face. His jaw tightens and his eyes darken. There’s a hint of a frown. What is he hiding? Is it guilt?

  ‘Can we talk?’ he says.

  ‘I’ll see you out.’

  He smiles stiffly and turns to the children. ‘Goodbye, Sam, Elka.’

  ‘Bye, bye,’ Sam says.

  Elka waves her hand in the air without looking up. She’s busy again, playing on the floor with Sam’s cars. As Tor and I watch, they argue over which car goes where. Sam wants to keep them in size order. Elka wants to help him sort them into colours.

  ‘Stay there, children,’ I say. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

  I follow Tor down the hall and face him on the threshold to the porch. The old slabs of sandstone that mark the entry to my home are cool under my feet. It’s still raining but the gable shelters Tor. He’s one step down but I still have to look up to meet his eyes. There’s no sign of the gentleness he showed to the children.

  ‘If Tomas Farmer contacts you, call me immediately,’ he says.

  ‘Is he important?’

  ‘He could be.’

  ‘He’s not dangerous though, is he?’

  ‘I wish I knew.’

  ‘You’re trying to put me off by frightening me.’

  ‘Just for the thrill of it?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘I’m not going to make this easy for you, or hide the risks, not when I’m opposed to your involvement.’

  ‘I got that impression. When do we talk to Tomas?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Who else then? You must have someone in mind.’

  He nods abruptly. ‘On Saturday fortnight there’s a cocktail party to mark the end of the racing season. Alessandro Garcia is hosting it.’

  ‘He was on my list. So I come to the cocktail party too?’ I take

  Tor’s tight lips as assent. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘At Garcia’s golf
club, the Royal Sydney. What do you know about him?’

  ‘Not much. He has a lot of money. His family is wealthy, but he’s made his own money too, in casinos and so on. I guess he’d be in his fifties by now, because he was a similar age to Dad. In addition to being crazy about golf, he owns racehorses—trained by Solomon. My father used to ride for him in Sydney, and in Hong Kong. Why do you want to talk to him?’

  ‘He has a connection to the race fix that happened the year you were born.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘And an interest in the horse that killed your father.’

  ‘My father died in an accident.’

  ‘That’s one scenario.’

  ‘Are you saying it wasn’t an accident?’ My voice wavers. ‘Is that what you mean?’

  Tor shoves his hands into his pockets. ‘You’d better get used to this. We can’t rule anything out.’

  ‘You’re trying to frighten me again.’

  ‘I’m being straight with you.’

  Elka turns up the CD player. The Wiggles are singing ‘Hot Potato’ and she and Sam are laughing. She’s probably holding his hands and dancing with him, like she did before we went on our walk.

  I force myself to speak in a detached way, like Tor is. ‘Alessandro and my father got on well.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean Garcia can be trusted.’

  Does Tor think I don’t know that? The racehorse owners, Sol and the other trainers, the Turf Club officials and the bookies like Marc senior, who was Grandpa’s best friend, all let me down.

  ‘I sometimes saw Alessandro at early morning training at the track. He was usually with Sol. When my father was in Sydney, I saw Alessandro more often.’

  Tor nods, and frowns like he’s impatient.

  I wrap my arms around my body. ‘Alessandro couldn’t make it to my father’s funeral. He told Grandpa he felt bad about it, and asked him for permission to organise the flowers. I remember sitting in the pew and admiring them. I’d never seen so many flowers. Maybe I haven’t since. Banksia, kangaroo paw, wattle, waratah, boronia, and so many others. After we brought the flowers home Grandpa told me all their botanical names.’

  I look over Tor’s shoulder, hoping to hide the tears in my eyes. The tops of the trees in the distance are a blurry blend of greens.

  The touch of his hand on my arm is light. When he dips his head his breath is warm on my cheek. His words are whispered but forceful.

  ‘Don’t put yourself through this, Golden. Leave it to me.’

  When I shake my head, he lifts his hand.

  ‘I want to be useful,’ I say. ‘I’m good at reading people. Even you.’

  He speaks between his teeth. ‘I’d dispute that.’

  ‘You told me you didn’t drink because your father was an alcoholic. But something else hurts you as well, doesn’t it?’

  The shutters that hide his expression come clanging down, just as they did at the bar. ‘I’m not telling you anything,’ he says.

  ‘I think you feel guilty about something, something to do with your brother.’

  He leans forward, his face only centimetres from mine. ‘This doesn’t concern my family. It concerns yours.’

  I want to be in control like he is, but I can’t keep the tremor out of my voice. ‘And that gives you the right to trample over their graves?’

  ‘You think that’s what I’m doing, what I’d do?’ He’s only just hanging onto his temper. ‘You’re here under sufferance. Tread carefully, Golden.’

  ‘And if I don’t? What will you do? Insult me, or frighten me? Now I’m not only raised on dirty money, and sponging off Eric, my father didn’t have an accident after all. What else have you got? I was hurt when my horse fell in a race. Was someone trying to kill me too?’

  ‘I want to keep you safe.’

  ‘Because it’d be bad for your career if you didn’t?’

  He narrows his eyes. ‘I dare you to repeat that.’

  ‘I …’ I open my mouth, shut it again, open it. ‘I shouldn’t have said it, it was a stupid thing to say. The words just came out of my …’

  He looks at my mouth. I look at his. And I’m not even sure who moves first, but within a heartbeat I’m grasping his shirt and he’s wrapping his arms around me. The kiss is hot, desperate, frantic. It steals my breath away.

  Until, all of a sudden, he takes a shuddering breath. His lips gentle. He whispers against my mouth.

  ‘Shhh, sweetheart.’ He slides the tip of his tongue back and forth between my lips. ‘I’m sorry. Shhh.’

  I whimper when he lifts his head. His hands fall to his sides and he takes a step back, searches my eyes.

  ‘It was just a kiss,’ he says. ‘I wasn’t asking for everything.’

  I stare at him silently. I touch my mouth. It’s tender but that doesn’t stop me wishing he’d kiss me all over again, hold me close, ease the ache.

  ‘What?’ I say.

  ‘At Randwick when I kissed you, I said I wanted everything. You equated that with sex.’

  When he kissed me under the scribbly bark tree I thought about passion. Now? I’d like to cry all over again. Because having everything with Tor wouldn’t only mean sex, or passion. It would mean we loved each other.

  Not that he’s thinking about anything like that—he’s looking at me warily as if he’s afraid I’ll cry all over him again.

  I swallow the lump in my throat and shove him in the chest. ‘I’m not stupid. That was a kiss to make me shut up, wasn’t it?’ He doesn’t respond so I shove him once more. ‘You … you …’ I point down the hallway. ‘You …’

  I’m responsible for two children. One is anxious and blind. The other is a bossy whirlwind unable to sit still for more than a minute. I ought to be with them instead of standing barefoot on a doorstep in the cold, with a man I should despise.

  I glance over my shoulder. The CD player is turned up even louder now and I can’t hear the children.

  ‘I have to get back.’

  His words are clipped. ‘We can’t go on like this.’

  I can’t read his expression at all. Mine will be a messed-up confusion of arousal and anguish. I look down so he can’t see it. The scars on my ankle are purple in the cold.

  ‘We won’t have to see each other once this is over. What time should I meet you to go to Alessandro’s?’

  He growls his words. ‘I’ll pick you up. Five o’clock.’

  ‘I’ll get there myself.’

  ‘No.’ He stands with his feet apart and his hands behind his back. His face is in profile. He’s looking at his car, a blurred black shape in the rain.

  ‘If you pick me up, people might assume we’re seeing each other.’

  He faces me again, his smile stiff and fake. ‘Or, more sensibly, they’d assume that Eric asked me to do him a favour. You don’t want to spend time alone with me, do you?’

  I shake my head. ‘I’ll speak to Angelina. She can get into things whether she’s on the invitation list or not.’

  ‘She’s already going. So are your mother and Eric.’

  ‘Right then. I’ll tag along with them.’

  He pins me to the spot with his dark and angry eyes. Then spins on his heel and strides into the rain.

  CHAPTER

  22

  Over two weeks have passed since I saw Tor. He will have calmed down by now and his mask will be back in place. I’ll act professionally too. Tor and I have a job to do. We have to find out what Alessandro Garcia knows about my family.

  I’m sitting by the creek again. Many of the native grasses and shrubs will come into flower soon—delicate blooms in purple and pink will peep through the foliage. It doesn’t matter that the surface of the rock is wet and mossy and stains my clothes, because I mucked out the stables and rode this afternoon, so I’m filthy already.

  All morning I sat on my bedroom floor, reading through Grandpa’s folders, including the one that recorded what had happened in the year I turned six. My father was home from Hong Kong f
or a week, and presented me with a Shetland pony for my birthday. Grandpa told me later that he wasn’t too happy about it.

  ‘We didn’t have fences yet,’ he said. ‘I said to your dad, “What’s Gumnut supposed to do, keep the little fella in her bedroom?’”

  He and my father laughed when I shouted, ‘Yes!’

  In the folder were receipts for fenceposts and wire, as well as council rates and school shoes, and Grandpa’s invoices for the income he earned. I only removed one sheet of paper. It was marked ‘James’s insurance policy.’ I file all the pages labelled like that, and others I can’t work out, into the cardboard box where I used to keep my long black boots.

  I jump when my phone beeps.

  Hey Golden, confirming seven tonight. Royal Sydney Golf Club. Northern Terrace. Text to confirm you’re okay. Nate.

  I call Nate. ‘What if someone hit me over the head and took my phone? They could text back, and you would think it was me.’

  He doesn’t say anything.

  ‘Nate? Are you there? That was a joke.’

  ‘Taking you off speaker,’ he says.

  ‘Why was I on speaker?’

  Another hesitation. ‘Tor is with me.’

  Tor would want me to take Nate seriously. But he can’t be too concerned because I haven’t seen or heard from him.

  ‘So?’ Nate says. ‘Are you okay to meet us?’

  A car horn beeps three times. Leo’s here early. He lives not far from me, and offered to give me a lift when we worked out he was going to the cocktail party too. ‘Course I am. I have to go. I’ll be there a little after seven. Tell Tor to be punctual for once.’

  I’m worried about slipping when I cross the log because my leg is still stiff from riding. So I hold on to the log with my hands and crouch until I’m safely on the other side. By the time I’ve scrambled through the grevillea, Leo is waiting in the bottom paddock. He’s carrying Seashell against his chest and Fudge is standing next to him.

  ‘You could pose for a painting,’ I say. ‘A man, a cat and a pony.’

  Leo laughs as he holds the gate open. ‘You could pose as a creature from the bog. You’d better get a move on. It’ll take us a while to get there.’

  I’m ready in thirty minutes. And all of a sudden I’m anxious. Seeing Alessandro is important. He might know something. I haven’t wanted to think about whether my father’s death was accidental or not. Every time I do it puts a lump in my throat.