The Week at Mon Repose (8 page)

 

 

Despite their worry about Ahmed, the girls enjoyed themselves, watching or competing in the events.

Marilyn won ten dollars for staying the longest on the greasy pole. She promptly ran over to the cars where the boot sales were still on. George and Jimpy, who were determined to enter every event they could, won the egg and spoon, the sack, and the wheelbarrow races.

“Come on,” Allie coaxed Jenny. “Let's enter the three-legged race.”

They almost won, but they fell over and walked off with large ice creams as consolation prizes. Marilyn waited for them with a happy smile on her face. She carried a plastic bag with the treasured lame dress in it.

“This is the most fun picnic I have ever been on,” she said. “I got enough over from buying the dress to put five dollars for a win on Candy. He's ten to one...”

“What does that mean?” Allie asked.

“Wow! How do you cope with math at your school?” Marilyn retorted. “I get ten times five — that is fifty dollars back if Ahmed wins. It can go towards the Pound fees.”

“If Ahmed wins, we won't need it, and if he doesn't win, we're still in trouble,” Jenny warned.

Mrs. Marybone produced lavish helpings of sliced boiled fruitcake and lemonade for their afternoon tea. They went to visit Ahmed, who had spent the afternoon squatting under a tree drowsing. Ahmed refused to leave Caliph and assured them he didn't want anything to eat or drink.

“Thought more horses would have arrived,” Marilyn said, looking at the horses tethered under the trees.

“Only seven, and Caliph to make eight, entered in the race, but they are supposed to be the fastest in the district,” Ahmed explained. “Please move away. The Rangers are prowling around, and I don't want them to realize we're together.”

The girls watched the wood chopping exhibitions, which were pretty scary, an exhibition of karate, which Marilyn said was pretty slow, and another really serious footrace, which Marilyn thought was nearly as good as the Stawell gift.

Marilyn gave her plastic bag to Jenny to hold, stepped up on to the wooden platform, and joined the line dancing. Another tune started, and a different set of people got up and started dancing. Marilyn skipped down.

“Love to learn how to do it,” Jenny said.

“I'll show you,” Marilyn said, edging them behind the tree to where there was some space.

The girls practised line dancing until the loudspeaker squawked. The music stopped.

“Would the riders please bring their horses to the starting line,” the speakers blared.

It was time. The girls worked their way across the oval to the dusty lane. The eight horses lined up. All the riders, including Ahmed, had been issued identical helmets that looked similar to racing bike helmets.

Caliph was between a big grey horse and an equally big bay. Allie's heart sank. Caliph looked almost small and frail against the two big horses. Why did Ahmed even think Caliph was going to be fast enough? Ahmed winked at her, and she felt better.

“I see old Westy's daughter's riding Kaydin,” Mr. Marybone said as he arrived beside them. “He's a big brute, isn't he? She'll be a lightweight for that big horse. My money is on him to win.”

The girl on Kaydin, the big grey horse, grinned and waved to Mr. Marybone. She looked the same age as the girls. She wore jeans and a pink shirt. The big bay horse on the other side of Caliph was Captain John. Another ex-racehorse, according to Mr. Marybone. The boy slouched on him wore shorts, thongs, and a dirty black singlet.

A piebald horse about the same height as Caliph moved into position, ridden by a skinny, elderly man with a shock of white hair under his helmet. He wore gumboots, spotless overalls, and a white tee shirt.

“Doesn't look big enough to run a good race,” Marilyn said.

“That's Melinda. She's fast and a stayer,” Mr. Marybone said. “She won last year.”

Teddy Boy was a chestnut and nearly as big as Kaydin. He seemed nervous. His ears were back, and he swung his head around and knocked Melinda out of position. The Rangers sprinted forward to steady him.

“Needs a curb bit,” Mr. Marybone remarked as they watched the small man riding him struggling to pull his head around. “That Teddy Boy is as mad as a meataxe but fast.”

Mr. Marybone identified the roan as Stumpy; a big-boned, heavy chestnut as Bilco; and another grey as Whitey. Whitey didn't look a bit like a horse that could win a race. He was very skinny and stood dispiritedly, head drooping almost to the ground. A mournful looking teenage boy in jeans and black singlet sat on him, reins sagging loosely.

“That Whitey looks half-starved,” Marilyn said.

“Billy Jones's horse. Came in second last year,” Mr. Marybone explained. “Now get ready to move as soon as the horses go.”

“Are we in the race too?” Jenny asked.

“We'll cross the track and climb the hill to watch them. Can see more of the track from up there,” Mr. Marybone said.

The Rangers moved back from the line of horses. One looked at his watch and nodded. The other produced a whistle and blew it.

Seven horses sprang out and away as one, leaving choking clouds of dust behind them. Teddy Boy reared and spun around before his rider got him facing in the right direction and galloped him into the dust cloud after the others.

The horses vanished around the first curve. The loudspeakers started blaring out the progress of the race. Wires swooped up to a rickety stand erected on the bald top of the hill, and the race caller was a man with binoculars.

People were already moving towards the hill. Mr. Marybone hurried the girls across the track and around a clump of trees. When they got higher, they realized the rest of the hill was bare, and most of the track around its base was in full view.

The horses vanished behind the curve of hill. The girls waited breathlessly for them to re-appear. When they did, the skinny Whitey was leading effortlessly. Kaydin's nose was almost touching Whitey's rump, and then the smaller Melinda and Caliph appeared side by side directly behind them.

“Maybe he will come third,” Marilyn said hopefully.

The next horse to appear was Captain John, and then Stumpy and Bilco. Teddy Boy was catching up very quickly.

“That Teddy Boy is really fast,” Marilyn said.

“But mad as a meataxe,” Mr. Marybone said.

Teddy Boy veered into Stumpy and bumped heavily. Stumpy slowed to a trot as his rider slumped forward. Teddy Boy flung his head up and galloped on, ignoring the way his rider tugged at his reins.

“Stumpy's rider's hurt!” Jenny said.

“So that's two out of the race,” Mr. Marybone said. “Teddy Boy has lost his bit. The rider can't control him.”

Men ran down the hill to help the rider off and lead Stumpy away.

“Two?” Allie asked.

“Stumpy's out and so is Teddy Boy,” Mr. Marybone said.

“So it is a six horse race?” Jenny asked.

“But Teddy Boy still thinks he is in the race?” Marilyn said.

Teddy Boy was catching up fast, ears flat on his wicked head.

“What if he does the same thing to Ahmed,” Jenny whispered.

“Ahmed is pretty smart,” Allie said.
I hope
, she thought to herself and crossed her fingers.

Teddy Boy was approaching on Caliph's side. Caliph dropped back, leaving Melinda and Teddy Boy galloping side by side, fighting to get ahead.

“The boy riding the Arab is pretty smart,” Mr. Marybone said.

“He is now fifth in the race,” Marilyn groaned.

Mr. Marybone looked at his list. “Candy, is it! Funny name to call a stallion!”

Teddy Boy was between Whitey and Kaydin, and the three horses flashed forward and vanished behind a clump of trees. Melinda, Caliph and Captain John followed behind them, with Bilco last.

Allie chewed her fingernails as she and her friends listened to the blared and distorted voice on the loudspeakers.

“The disqualified Teddy Boy has moved ahead of Whitey and Kaydin. They are three fast horses stirring up the dust.” Then in a different voice. “Kaydin has taken exception to the parrots. Young Allison's having trouble holding him on course. Silly as a wet weekend, that Kaydin! He's on the track anyway, so he's still in with a chance. Captain John is now neck and neck with Melinda, with Candy behind.”

The horses moved into sight from around the clump of trees. Teddy Boy was leading, as the loudspeaker told everyone, with Whitey, Melinda, Captain John, Candy, and Bilco strung out single file behind them, with Kaydin coming up in the rear.

“Still fifth in the race,” Allie said with a groan.

“Captain John making his run,” blared the loudspeaker.

Captain John moved ahead of Melinda, and Whitey and caught up with Teddy Boy. Captain John moved sideways and veered into Teddy Boy who spun around and bucked. His rider fell off. The other horses flashed past.

Allie watched in admiration as a teenage boy swung a picnic rug over Teddy Boy's head and clung grimly to the blinded horse as the horse swung his head around trying to get free.

“Johnno should have used the heavier bit,” Mr. Marybone said. “Fancy falling off!”

“Whitey in the lead, Melinda second, then Candy, and Kaydin's coming up fast,” the loudspeaker blared.

The horses vanished out of sight around the hill. Everyone waited tensely. Allie listened to the loudspeaker as it blared out the horses' positions. The caller sounded breathless and excited. The horses appeared around the curve of track. Allie's heart sank. Whitey was still ahead, and the other horses in the same position behind him.

It was impossible to hear the blare of the loudspeakers over everyone yelling. Kaydin moved up and was racing neck and neck with Caliph. Melinda's rider spurred her. She caught up with Whitey.

“Melinda's making her run for it,” blared the loudspeakers.

For several seconds Melinda was neck and neck with Whitey, and then fell behind again.

“Told you so,” Mr. Marybone said. “Old George shouldn't have pushed Melinda early in the race.”

The horses galloped down the track and towards the turnoff to the edge of the oval and the finish line. Allie unclenched her fists with an effort and remembered to keep breathing. It was the most exciting race she had ever watched.

The loudspeaker blared into incoherence. Everyone yelled louder. Caliph moved ahead of the taller grey. The crowd roared.

“And Candy the Arab wins by a neck,” blared the loudspeakers. “Whitey second and Kaydin third. Teddy Boy disqualified. Still waiting to hear how Bill Jackson is and this has been the most exciting race I've ever called.”

“Good horses, them Arabs,” Mr. Marybone was saying as they crowded down the hill and across to where the three horses were being walked across to the wooden dais that had been used for the line dancing.

The two Rangers waited with rosettes and white envelopes. There were speeches and Ahmed's hand was shaken as he was given the envelope, the ribbon and rosette. Everyone cheered, Allie and Jenny as loudly as anyone. The second and third prizes were handed out to Billy Jones and Allison West.

“I'm heading to the Pound,” Ahmed said out of the side of his mouth as he nudged Caliph through the cheering crowd. “Meet you back at Mon Repose.”

He moved Caliph over to the edge of the oval in an easy walk and vanished behind the curve of the hill.

“Caliph will have to take his time getting there after that race,” Marilyn said thoughtfully. “He'll be tired.”

“So?” Allie asked.

“Nothing,” Marilyn said. ‘See you at Mon Repose.”

“Where's she going?” Jenny asked.

“Maybe to pick up her winnings,” Allie suggested. “Let's go.”

Mrs. Marybone had repacked the car boot and was ready to leave. “We have to return to start dinner,” she apologized. “Anyway, everything is really over. Did you enjoy our race day?”

“Absolutely terrific!” Allie assured her.

“Thank you very much for inviting us along,” Jenny said. “We have had a wonderful afternoon.”

“You can say that again,” Allie said.

She relaxed into the seat of the car. Ahmed would pay the Pound fee and get his horses. They were out of trouble. It was a nice feeling.

“Except we still have to find a way to return Ahmed ,” Jenny said. She seemed aware of what Allie was thinking.

“There is that,” Allie agreed with a sigh, her good feeling evaporated.

 

 

“How long do you reckon it will take Ahmed to get back?” Allie demanded.

“Allowing two hours to ride the horse to the Pound and another hour to walk to Mon Repose,” Jenny calculated. “Allowing more time for something to go wrong, Ahmed should still be here by nine o'clock.”

At last the dinner bell sounded. They trailed into the dining room. All the guests were in a good mood and noisy. Everyone had enjoyed themselves at the picnic day. Mrs. Marybone volunteered that Marilyn's father had rung to say they wouldn't be in for dinner. “And does anyone know whether Ahmed Masterton is going to be here for his dinner?” she asked.

“He said something about having to go home tonight,” Jenny said with perfect truth.

“Well, there's no problem about that,” Mrs. Marybone replied as she handed out their plates of steak and kidney pie. “Seeing as Mr. Masterton is paying.”

“Is Mr. Masterton returning?” Jenny asked.

“He said so. Just had to rush off on some urgent business for a day or two.” Mrs. Marybone moved away to serve another table.

The two girls ate their steak and kidney pie and worked their way through their dessert of jellied fruit and custard. Afterwards they went back to their room to wait and wait.

Jenny took out a book to read and Allie just sat. She kept her lips firmly closed. She knew if she opened her mouth, all the “what ifs” would come tumbling out, and she wasn't going to have her composed cousin Jenny calling her a worrywart.

She became increasingly uneasy as the hours had passed. Ahmed still hadn't arrived. Also Marilyn and her family were still missing. Where were they? It wasn't as if there was anywhere to go around the district. She sneaked another look at the clock. It was nine fifteen.

“What if Marilyn doesn't arrive in time for us to send Ahmed back? It must take three of us for any spell to work. What if Ahmed doesn't arrive here in time to be returned?”

“What if!” Jenny echoed. “What if you stop carrying on like a worrywart?”

Allie pressed her lips together and stayed silent with a distinct effort. At exactly nine thirty by their small travelling clock, there was a tap on their door. They looked up anxiously as Marilyn came in. She looked happy but different somehow. It took a few seconds to realize that her hair was now a glossy light brown instead of jet black.

“Where have you been?” Allie burst out. “We've been so worried about everything.”

“Sorry. I had to wash and bed down the brats and then clean myself up before I could get away,” Marilyn apologized. “Blew my fifty dollar win on dinner for the family and managed to get Dad...”

“I thought he wasn't around,” Jenny asked.

Marilyn flushed. “I mean my stepdad.”

“The nerd?” Jenny asked.

“The ex-nerd,” Marilyn corrected. “I was so frantic, he asked what was wrong. I came clean about Ahmed needing to get the horse to the Pound before the Rangers returned, and he really came across. He'd put his money on Caliph too.” She paused and grinned. “He was surprisingly helpful and managed to drag the two Rangers along to dinner with us.”

“Didn't think there was anywhere to eat out around the area,” Jenny said.

“There's a small place just outside the township. So Dad said as it was a celebration dinner, he wanted the Rangers to join us. That kept the Rangers around for the extra time that Ahmed needed to get Caliph into the Pound. We collected Ahmed when we were driving to Mon Repose.”

“So he's back then?” Jenny said.

“He knocked up someone from the house to pay over the Pound fees and release the horses. He's sent the four horses home, so we are all in the clear. He went straight to his room. Said he didn't feel very well.”

“We'd better check him out,” Jenny said. “We've still got to find out how to return him.”

The three girls tiptoed quietly down the passage. No one was around to notice them. Cheerful voices were raised in song around the Pianola in the lounge, where all the guests were still celebrating.

They knocked quietly on the door at the end of the passage. There was no answer. They looked at each other, suddenly frightened, opened the door and went in. Jenny switched on the light.

Ahmed was stretched out flat on the bed, very flat. His green skin glowed brightly. His eyes turned towards them as they came closer, but his body seemed rigid and unmoving.

“He's fading again,” Jenny gasped.

“Mr. Masterton's clothes,” Allie volunteered. “It helped last time.”

They hurriedly took Mr. Masterton's clothes from the wardrobe and drawers and dressed Ahmed in them. They waited anxiously. After a while his chest started to move up and down as he started breathing again.

“You beautiful ladies are just in time,” he said. “I'm sorry, but I can't wait any longer. Get me to the dam and return me immediately.”

“How?” Marilyn asked.

“There must be a farewell chant that will work,” Ahmed said. “I'm sure that it will be accepted if you truly mean it.”

“We'll get our stuff and be right back,” Jenny said. “Don't fade on us.”

She collected her bed sheet and the candles. Allie dragged out her white nightgown, still mud-covered, and Marilyn rushed off to collect her caftan. They met back in Ahmed's room.

The three girls pulled Ahmed to his feet. He was shivering and too weak to stand without help. His skin still glowed green. The girls helped him down the steps through the laundry and out across the yard towards the dam. It was a very dark night with clouds covering the moon.

“I know all of the Maori Farewell,” Jenny said.

“But I don't,” Allie said.

“I know all the words of Goodnight Irene,” Marilyn said.

“Never heard of it,” Allie said.

“Me neither,” Jenny admitted.

“I had an old uncle who always sang it when he got boozed,” Marilyn explained. “I know it by heart.”

“Not much use if we don't,” Jenny said.

They reached the dam. Ahmed waited shivering. The glowing green of his hands and face lit the dark banks. The three girls lit the candles and gathered around him.

“Will we ever be able to call you up again?” Marilyn asked.

“It is quite possible because time is different where I come from, but you must return me before time gets any older, or I will be trapped in nowhere.”

“Where's nowhere?” Marilyn asked.

“What about Goodnight Sweetheart?” Jenny said. “We all know that by heart.”

“Only the tune,” Marilyn admitted. “I always blanked out. The words are so yuk.”

“So we make up our own words,” Allie said. “It's the meaning that is important.”

There was a few minutes of consultation, and a lot of giggling and they moved into position.

Jenny nodded and raised her hand to signal the start. They began singing together, Marilyn's voice high and loud over the others.

“Good night, Ahmed, we were glad to meet you.

Go home Ahmed, and keep safe and happy forever.

Knowing you was such fun, we'll remember you always

Go home Ahmed, safe and sound forever.”

Ahmed's body sort of flickered. The girls sang their verse again. The water rippled with the wind that gusted across it. The candle flames snuffed out, as did the green glow of Ahmed's face and hands. It was suddenly very dark. The girls stopped singing and waited.

The cloud cover cleared to show a sliver of moon. They peered across at each other. Ahmed was gone!

The farewell song had succeeded! They had managed to send their genie back!