Beginner's Luck Read online

  The doll's house was the most interesting, because it was much cleaner than the shed. It looked like a stage set, with a lounge, a small, square dining table with three chairs, and a kitchenette against the back wall. There was a threadbare broom propped against the back wall.

  Shelby put her hand on the pads of the lounge, expecting the frame to creak or give way, but the cushions had spring in them. She tried to open the cupboard under the sink, but it was stuck. She wondered if it was really a cupboard at all, or just a façade like the house front outside.

  She had more luck with the cupboard over the sink. Inside she found a cigarette lighter, an enamel mug, a tin-opener and four cans of sliced peaches. The metal tops of the cans were scuffed and spotted with rust, but the bottoms were shiny and clean. The labels were dirty with smudged fingerprints, but they weren't faded at all.

  Somebody had left them there. Somebody had swept, and the cushions of the lounge were not brittle and perished as they should be if they'd been exposed to the sun and rain for as long as there had been an overpass on Gully Way.

  Shelby had stayed for another ten minutes or so, resting in the sun and watching Blue graze, but she couldn't relax because she had no idea who the peach-owner might be, and whether they were friendly. She made her way back through the mossy glade and up the steep hill.

  It had been twice as hard to get up the hill as it had been to climb down in the first place, and by the time she reached the tunnel she was perspiring, breathing heavily, and needed to sit down to rest. Her hair was stuck to her face, she was bruised and scratched, and her muscles were sore. Blue's mane was matted with thistles and sprigs.

  Shelby had not gone back to The Pocket again. It had been enchanting, but too much hard work; besides, she knew what was down there now. Then there were the peaches.

  Sometimes when she rode to her favourite places in the Gully she would find empty beer cans, or occasionally there would be a group of walkers, or trail bike riders. Shelby would smile and say hello, but she was always disappointed that somebody else knew about the spot.

  The Pocket was much more secret than any of the places in the Gully, and it was clearly somebody's special place. Even if that person was friendly, it wouldn't have been right to invade it.

  'I turn left here – is that right?' asked Mrs Crook. They were quite near Shelby's house now.

  'Yep.'

  Shelby decided that she would enter the Matchstick Town competition. Three months of stock feed would be great. Her mum and dad would be happy, and then there was the thousand dollars. All she had to do was take a photo. It would take ten minutes, tops. The likelihood of meeting the peach-owner was pretty slim. She would be respectful and wouldn't touch anything. Chances were they wouldn't even know she had been there at all.

  3 Evicted

  Mrs Crook pulled up her four-wheel drive beside the kerb outside Shelby's house and smiled at Shelby over her shoulder.

  'I should come and have a coffee. I don't know your mum and dad very well,' she said.

  Shelby knew Mrs Crook and all the parents from Pony Club, but her own mother and father had never been. Shelby thought Pony Club was just as much about socialising for the parents as it was for the kids. There was one couple who still came along every fortnight even though their son had given up riding years ago.

  The other parents thought it was weird that Shelby's family didn't go. She had overheard them manufacturing their own theories, but the reality was much less exciting. Shelby's parents didn't like horses very much. Other than Shelby, they had two small boys to look after and hobbies of their own. Shelby's dad liked old cars, but that didn't mean the whole family packed a picnic to go and watch him clambering over the metal carcasses at the auto wreckers.

  Hayley had her feet up on the dashboard and was writing a text message on her mobile phone. 'See you later, Shel,' she said. 'I'm going to stay here, Mum, so don't take ages.'

  Shelby had a vision of the state of their living room – her brothers' toys lying all over the floor, video games scattered about, and baskets of unfolded washing. Her house wasn't dirty, just untidy most of the time. She'd been to the Crooks' place. Everything matched, and it was neat, like a furniture store showroom.

  'No, it's OK. Thanks for the lift,' she said, opening the door.

  'I should at least say hello.' Mrs Crook stepped out of the car.

  As Shelby walked up the drive she noticed a stack of metal by the side of the house. It was in sheets, and looked almost exactly like her feed shed before her parents had assembled it, except that this was older, duller and dented.

  The garage door was open and inside there were a few bags of horse food. That was strange. Her parents didn't let her keep feed near the house because it attracted rats, and she hadn't asked them to buy any. Usually they went to the produce store together, and unloaded the bags and bales from the back of the car straight into her shed at Blue's paddock.

  Shelby's mother met them at the door. She was wringing a tea towel in her hands.

  'Hi, Mum. You remember Mrs Crook,' Shelby said.

  'Call me Jill, please. It's Maria, isn't it?' Mrs Crook extended her hand.

  'Just Marie.' Her mother took the offered hand, with a tight smile, and pulled Shelby inside by the shoulder. 'Thanks for bringing her home. It must be out of your way.'

  'Don't be silly. She's a doll. I thought I'd stop by for a minute.'

  Shelby's mum looked over her shoulder, down the hall. 'Now's not a good time.'

  'Oh?' said Mrs Crook, rising on the balls of her feet to peer into the house.

  There was an awkward silence.

  'What's wrong, Mum?' Shelby asked. She hoped that her parents and the Crooks would become friends. She had a vision of her family going to the Crooks' place for barbecues, and the Crooks coming over for dinner. She and Hayley could hang out. It would be cool.

  'Can I help with anything?' Mrs Crook asked.

  'No, it's . . .' Her mother wiped her hand across her forehead. 'We've had some news. It's only just happened. My husband and I haven't had a chance to talk it over yet.'

  'I'm sure I can help.' Mrs Crook stepped forward, and Shelby's mother stood back, letting her into the house.

  Inside, Shelby's father was sitting at the dining table with his arms folded over a piece of paper. Blue was standing just outside the sliding glass door to the back yard, with his eyes half closed. He had a halter on upside down and draped over his ears like a bizarre tiara.

  'What's he doing here?' Shelby asked.

  'That's the thing,' her mother said. 'Blue's been evicted. They nearly took him to the pound, except that one of the neighbours saw them pull up with a float, and ran over to tell us, so we put him out the back. We managed to salvage the shed too. They'd knocked it down with the bulldozer, but they let us pick up the parts before they put up the hurricane fencing.'

  'Who?' asked Mrs Crook.

  'B&M Constructions Pty Ltd,' said Shelby's father, consulting the piece of paper in front of him. 'Hereby gives notice of intent to erect a Kensington on the site known as Lot 21B Myrtle Circuit.'

  'What's a Kensington?' asked Shelby.

  'I think it's a house,' answered Shelby's mother.

  'It is a house – two storey double brick, with gallery style entrance hall, and optional billiard room. We have a Kensington Regent,' replied Mrs Crook.

  Shelby's mother moved into the kitchen. 'I'll put some coffee on.'

  'I have a friend who's a solicitor,' Mrs Crook began, plonking into one of the dining chairs. 'The shed has to be destruction of property, and then there's trespass. There must be some kind of mix-up with the zoning.'

  Shelby's father shook his head. 'We're the trespassers. When Shelby wanted a pony, there was half a paddock there already, so we patched the fences a bit, and put up a little shed. Blue arrived. Nobody complained, until today.'

  'I know a few of the councillors. Let me make some calls. I'm sure you have rights. They have to give you notice,' Mrs Crook sa
id.

  Shelby's father held the paper up and pointed to it. 'Here it is. Look, it says "Notice".'

  The front door slammed. Hayley wandered up the hall. She frowned as she saw Blue standing at the back door. 'What's up?'

  'I have to find somewhere else to keep Blue,' Shelby replied.

  'Bummer,' she said.

  'You can keep him at the stables,' Mrs Crook said. 'That would be perfect. They have very good facilities. They're not skimpy with the feed, like some places. It's normally seventy or eighty dollars, but I'm sure we can get you a discount.'

  Her father sighed. 'Blue's paddock was free, so eighty dollars a month is –'

  'No, that's a week,' corrected Mrs Crook.

  Shelby's parents exchanged a glance. 'We need to talk about it,' said Shelby's father.

  'You can't keep Blue in the back yard.' Mrs Crook reached into her handbag and started to draw out items and place them on the table in front of her – a purse, a few lipsticks, a hanky – until finally she drew out her mobile phone. 'You might be able to keep him at the stables on a temporary basis. They have spelling agistment too. You wouldn't get a stable but it's only about thirty dollars. Let me call them now.'

  'Thanks, Jill, but we really need to talk about it first,' Shelby's mother said. 'As a family.'

  'It's no trouble,' said Mrs Crook, punching numbers into her mobile. 'I know Brenda Edel up at the stables very well, and then we can organise the float. I can take him over there this afternoon, if you'd like.'

  'Please, Jill, we –'

  'They can't afford it, Mum,' interrupted Hayley.

  Nobody said anything. Shelby's mother folded her arms and leaned against the kitchen bench. Shelby's father scratched the back of his neck. Outside, Blue stamped at a fly.

  'Hayley!' said Mrs Crook, breaking the uncomfortable silence. 'You don't say things like that about people!' She turned to Shelby's father. 'There are a few other places around here. They might not have an arena, or good fencing, but their prices are lower. And if you go a bit further out . . .'

  'Mum, they want to talk about it by themselves,' Hayley said. 'That means without us.'

  Mrs Crook stared at her daughter for a moment, and then she looked around the faces at the table.

  'Thank you so much for bringing Shelby home,' said Shelby's mother.

  Mrs Crook stood up, spinning her car keys around her index finger. 'I might have that coffee another time.'

  Shelby wished her parents would change their minds and let her stay. Mrs Crook could usually turn a bad situation into something better than before, whereas her parents were the sort of people who let things happen to them. She knew what their solution would be – surrender, don't make a fuss, move on.

  They would make her sell Blue, or give him away. They would tell her to take up something boring and pointless, like totem tennis, or ping-pong.

  'I'll do a bit of scouting about. Please don't be embarrassed. We think of Shelby as part of the Crook clan now.' Mrs Crook put her arm around Shelby's shoulder and squeezed.

  Her face was rosy-red, but it might have been sunburn. Mrs Crook never wore sunscreen. She had tanned skin that was the same texture as Shelby's mum's handbag. Sometimes she wore a floral print sun-visor, but Shelby thought that was more to keep her hair out of her face.

  Mrs C kept her arm around Shelby's shoulder all the way down the hall. On the lawn she leaned in close, talking in a low voice. 'I meant what I said in there. You know you can call me any time. We'll sort this out.'

  Shelby nodded. 'Thanks, Mrs C.'

  Mrs Crook meant well, but she bossed and bullied to get her own way. Shelby didn't have the authority to do that. She had to find a free home for Blue. That meant she had to ask favours. Favours needed subtlety, and she had no idea where to begin.

  4 The Promise

  'Can't we keep Blue at the stables temporarily?' asked Shelby. The Crooks had driven away, and Shelby had returned to the dining room table.

  'We? That's the funny thing, Shelby. When all is well it's "my horse", but whenever something goes wrong it's "we",' joked her father.

  'Blue will have to stay in the back yard for the time being,' her mother replied. 'But you have to find somewhere new, otherwise . . .'

  Shelby leaned back on her chair. 'Otherwise what?'

  Shelby's mother traced circles on the dining room table with her finger. 'The Crooks have three ponies. I'm sure they'll let you ride whenever you want. You had a great time at the show with them. Jill said you went really well. Besides, you've said yourself that Blue is a beginner's pony. Maybe there's some little girl out there who can make use of him?'

  Shelby blinked. She knew it would be like this. 'Next you'll be saying I should take up ping-pong!'

  Her father leaned forward and slapped the table. 'What a fantastic idea! You never hear of ping-pong-related quadriplegia. You can do it in the garage. We won't have to drive you all over town. You can play with your brothers. It will be good for their motor skills.'

  Shelby curled her lip.

  'Don't knock it!' he said. 'Ping-pong is an Olympic sport. You won't know you hate it until you try it.'

  'I'm not playing ping-pong!'

  They sat in silence for a moment. Shelby could hear Connor and Blake chortling as they played in their room. Outside, Blue stamped a hoof on the pavers. He opened his blue eyes and looked at her repentantly, as though he knew he was being talked about.

  'What about Aunt Jenny?' Shelby asked. 'She has loads of money, and she's helped us before.'

  'I think you've invaded Aunt Jenny's bank account enough,' her father replied. 'You should be grateful for what she's given you already.'

  Shelby only ever saw her aunt at Christmas, and she used to think Aunt Jenny was an old fuddy-duddy, but last Christmas Shelby found out that Aunt Jenny had horses when she was young too, and suddenly she'd become much more interesting.

  Her mother folded her arms. 'The way I see it there are three options – one, and the most attractive, is that you find another place that's free; two, you find a place that's not free; or three, you sell Blue, or give him away.'

  Shelby sat up straight. 'Tell me more about option two.'

  Shelby's mother looked across the table at Dad. 'I haven't talked about this with your father yet, and it's a grown-ups' decision, so I don't want to hear any nagging from you.' She took a deep breath. 'Blake is old enough to start preschool now. It would be nice to have a few extra dollars in the kitty. I could go back to work.'

  'Marie . . .' her father began.

  'Yes!' cried Shelby. 'Can I keep him at the stables?'

  'You cannot keep him at the stables.'

  'Marie, going to work is something that you should choose, when you're ready. We'll find a way to manage. You remember how it was when Shelby was small, and now there are two more children to worry about.'

  'I'd like to,' she said.

  Shelby jumped up and kissed her. 'This is so cool.'

  Her mother put her hand on Shelby's arm. 'If I do this, there are some new rules. You must keep your room clean at all times. You must help out with the chores. Some things will become your responsibility, and I expect them to be done without ever having to ask. And you must look after your brothers after school – that means being here inside the house until I, or your father, come home. Do you understand?'

  Shelby shrugged. 'No problem.' She usually rode in the afternoons, but she could switch to the mornings.

  'Are you sure? Because at the moment you wash the dishes maybe once a fortnight, and you complain about that. I'll need you to do the washing, the ironing, the vacuuming, and the boy's lunches. You might even need to cook dinner a few times a week. This will mean doing at least twenty minutes of house work every day – maybe even longer.'

  Twenty minutes? Twenty minutes was nothing.

  'I want you to promise me, Shelby.' Her mother stared at her.

  'I think we should have a trial run,' said her father.

  Shelby rolled h
er eyes. 'We don't need to have a trial. I'll start straightaway. I promise, OK?'

  5 Tsunami

  At the beginning of Geography, Erin flopped down in the chair next to Shelby and grinned. 'Only four more sleeps!' There was a stack of envelopes in her hand and she flipped through them. 'Here.'

  Shelby ripped the envelope open. Inside was a small sheet of pink paper, scalloped at the edges, with a border of blue and yellow balloons.

  'Come to my party, this Saturday at 11 am.'

  There was a space on the pre-made invitation for the address. Here Erin had written, 'U know where I live. Luv from Erin.' She had dotted the 'I' in her name with a smiley face.

  'Eleven?' Shelby said, looking at her friend.

  'That was the only way Mum would let me invite boys. She's worried about gatecrashers and spin the bottle,' Erin explained. 'It's going to be so good – heaps of junk food, and . . .'

  Mr Halbert, their teacher, stood in front of their desk and raised an eyebrow. 'When you're ready, girls.'

  Shelby shoved the invitation inside her exercise book and took a pen out of her pencil case. She held it over a blank page, trying to look as though she was ready to learn.

  'Where were we?' he asked.

  Shelby blinked. 'Where were we when?'

  'Tindouf,' he said.

  'Bless you!' called out one of the boys and the whole class laughed.

  'You may recall from the previous lesson that Tindouf is in Algeria. The major ecological problems in Algeria, and Northern Africa generally, are . . .? Chris, can you tell me?' He turned away to one of the boys at the other side of the room.

  At lunchtime Erin continued. 'We're turning the garage into a disco and there'll be karaoke. Mum's even hired a smoke machine. Dad says there is going to be a surprise. I hope it's not something dumb like a clown. I'd be so embarrassed. It could be a jumping castle. That would be cool. Do you want to come up to the stables this afternoon?'