Chapter 1 

Frankie

Ruby shifted her weight beside me and leant her 500 kg against my shoulder. Of course, it wasn’t all of her weight. If it was, I’d be flat on the ground. Her warmth seeped through me. Turning my nose into her neck, I breathed in deep. I closed my eyes and let the smell of hay and horse seep into my senses. That smell would always be a cure for me; it could take my unsettled mind and set me straight.

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Ruby moved her head to the right. I opened my eyes and followed suit. The polo players were at the other end of the field, the action amplifying as they approached the goal. The spectators’ voices matched the intensity. Sebastian, one of our international riders, stood in his stirrups, giving himself more manoeuvrability, and intercepted the ball. He looked ahead. There was no one to pass it to. He hit it anyway. The connection of mallet on ball was deep and satisfying when Sebastian whacked it towards the goal at the opposite end of the field. The horses thundered across the grass in pursuit.

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I loved the polo grounds here. We were right on the edge of the suburbs of Brisbane, but you wouldn’t know that the capital city lay 35 kilometres away. Trees and undulating land surrounded the wide-open fields. The peacefulness reminded me of home.

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Ruby moved her head, following the players’ movements. Her body was relaxed. Her ears were pointed forward, twitching at the sounds from the field. Her eyes were bright and alert. She was watching, thinking, ready and eager to join as soon as it was her turn.

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Sebastian may be a conceited royal, but he sure could ride, whether his butt was in the saddle or not. I smiled, thinking about what Amanda would often say: ‘Frankie, that man has an arse anyone would be happy to grab’. As much as I hated to admit it, she was right. And it was just as good to look at. As was the rest of him with his sun-bleached brown hair, warm brown eyes and tanned features. But good looks and money weren’t everything. And they certainly were not my thing.

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Toro, whose lead rope I held in my other hand, was moving his feet in eagerness. While Ruby was calm, he was a ball of energy. His movements intensified, responding to the action on the field. Smiling at him, I tugged at his lead rope to get his attention, to remind him where he was and that he needed to settle. His response was instant. His feet stilled. He let out a long, drawn-out breath and licked his lips.

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“Good boy,” I said, reaching up to give him a pat.

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Sebastian chased the ball down and hit it towards Andrew, one of the amateurs on our team. He had rolled up to the game in his Porsche fifteen minutes before we were due to start: barely enough time to ensure he was ready and learnt the game plan. I’d peeked at Sebastian and Juan, our two professional players, during the team meeting to gauge their reaction. They both had clenched jaws. When Sebastian had addressed Andrew, his voice was tight. At least his royal, good looking arse, took the game seriously.

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Andrew and Juan were in the forward half waiting for the ball. Sebastian had passed the ball slowly, allowing Juan to draw the opposition playing on him away from the play, leaving Andrew and the goal open. If Andrew had missed the pass, Juan could have picked it up with ease. That’s the difference between a good player and a great player: great players can think of multiple strategies at once. But Sebastian’s pass was so precise there was no way Andrew could have missed the ball. Sebastian galloped around the outside into position to score a goal if Andrew passed it to him. In a professional game Andrew would have. Because in a professional game, it is about team success, not personal glory.

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Andrew’s mallet swung through the air and struck the ball. I cringed when the mallet followed through and struck his horse’s leg. That was exactly why we put jump boots on the horses, in particular the ones the amateurs rode. They acted like shin guards in hockey or soccer.

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The ball flew through the air. An opposition player galloped from left of field. For every 30cm the ball got closer to the goal, the rider gained a metre. Closer. Closer. I held my breath. It was like the ball was moving in molasses.

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The opposition closed the distance. The ball was so close. He got closer. He lifted his mallet into the air to strike the ball, to prevent the goal and move the ball out of the attack zone. It made no purchase. The ball floated through the goals.

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The crowd erupted. Andrew stood in his stirrups and cantered around beating his chest and pointing to himself like he was the be all and end all. I was surprised he didn’t pull his shirt off like a soccer player who had kicked a goal in the World Cup. The other three players on our team came together and gave each other high fives.

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Rolling my eyes at Andrew’s antics, I patted Ruby and Toro. “It will be your turn soon. There’s only a couple of minutes left in this chukka.”

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Sebastian and Andrew trotted past on their way to the next play. Andrew stopped and indicated to Ruby, “I don’t want that horse.”

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“You don’t want Ruby?”

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“No, I want a faster horse.”

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He couldn’t be serious. There were less than two minutes left in the period and he wanted to do a horse change? To a faster horse? Ruby was one of the fastest we had. As an off the track thoroughbred, she had great acceleration and speed. I bit my tongue but I’m sure my face said it all.

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“Look at her. She’s ready to fall asleep.”

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Idiot. I couldn’t formulate words. Well, none that wouldn’t get me in trouble. Instead, I nodded. Sebastian was tight lipped as he watched the exchange. The way he moved in his saddle I knew he was itching to say something. He didn’t get the chance. Andrew spun and rode back to the game. Sebastian opened his mouth, but I turned away.

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Being a polo groom was a thankless job sometimes. Especially when you had to deal with the Andrew’s of the world. I took the phone out of my pocket and called Amanda who was down at the horse truck.

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“Can you saddle Brutus and bring him up, please?”

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“Why? What’s happened?” Her voice was tight with concern.

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“Andrew decided he doesn’t want to ride Ruby.”

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Amanda was moving around. She would have tucked the phone into her bra and put it on loud speaker so she could use two hands. Knowing she had less than five minutes between chukkas to have Brutus ready, she’d be moving at top speed. She had to get his gear on and get him up here within that time. She’d be pushing shit uphill.

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“Why?” she asked.

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“Not fast enough, apparently.”

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“What a dick.”

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Her breathing was more laboured and I pictured her crouching to wrap Brutus’s legs in bandages. Her blonde plait would have fallen over her shoulder. I pushed my ponytail back in response.

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“Make sure you put the jump boots on. He whacked his horse at least once that I saw.”

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The bell signalling the end of the chukka sounded behind me. I put my phone in my breast pocket as the riders came over. Juan and Doug headed to our other groom. Breathing in, I prepared myself, and prayed Amanda would be done in time. I imagined her putting on the bridle and breast plate with head check attached. Amanda’s fingers were nimble and she was always calm under pressure; the buckles would pose no problem for her.

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Our riders were closer. I prepared for Sebastian to change horses. It was usually a fluid move from one horse to another. No need to hop off when time was of the essence. Instead he swung his leg and dismounted. Amanda would be putting the saddle pad and saddle on and connecting all the pieces together.

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“Where’s my horse?” Andrew demanded.

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“Coming.”

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He jumped down and shoved the reins towards me. So, I was holding three horses, soon to be four, because Sebastian moved towards me. It wouldn’t be a problem; they were all well behaved. But our rules were that we could only hold two at a game for safety reasons. Horses are flight animals and could be unpredictable.

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“We need to get back on the field,” Andrew said, pointedly.

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“I’m aware of that.”

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Where was Amanda? I hoped she was close.

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“Here, give me Toro,” Sebastian said, reaching for the reins. For months his posh voice had grated on me, but not this time.

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“Thank you.” I gave him a small smile. At least I wasn’t surrounded by jerks: just one.

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“How much longer?” Andrew, the arsewipe, again.

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“Here we are,” Amanda called out in a fake cheery voice. She held Brutus while Andrew mounted. Without a word, he turned and rode away.

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“Great job getting Brutus ready in such short time,” Sebastian said. Before mounting Toro, he made sure his polo shirt was tucked in. I didn’t need to look at Amanda to know she’d be enjoying the view. His breeches hugged his legs and his broad shoulders were accentuated when he drew himself up tall to tuck his shirt in.

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He gave Ruby a pat as the bell sounded. Mounting Toro, he gave us a quick smile and rode away.

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“Andrew’s such a dick,” Amanda said. “I can’t believe he was so rude to you.”

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She would have heard it all through the phone in my pocket.

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“Lucky you got here when you did. I was about to lose my shit.”

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She squeezed my arm. “One more season.”

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“One more season.”

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We walked back to the truck together. When we got there, I rested my head against Ruby’s, our brown hair blending together, and rubbed her cheek. “Sorry, Andrew is such an arsehole,” I said to her.

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Her relaxed breathing helped slow the blood pumping through my veins. Giving her a final pat before tying her to the truck, I made my way back to the field with two horses in tow. I needed to be there in case one of the players broke a mallet or needed an emergency horse change. Not only that, though. I liked to see how the horses were performing to understand if they needed developmental training in a certain area. And if I saw they got a heavy bump from a horse or a hit from a mallet, I would know if they needed special attention in the days to come. Maybe light exercise or a massage.

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I found it hard sometimes, thinking I had only one more season with these horses. Even though I would miss them, I wouldn’t miss everything about polo. I wouldn’t miss how some of the riders treated the horses like a commodity. How they had no care when they rode recklessly or hit a horse with their mallet. I wouldn’t miss the pretentiousness of some players and how they would treat me and the other staff. If my dad had seen me behave like that, he would have given me a swift kick up the arse. Maybe that’s what some of these high rollers needed.

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When I got home, I wouldn’t need to worry about this world anymore. I would be in a place where I belonged. My savings from the last five years could be put back into the farm. I could set up a quality retraining program with versatile horses. As I began training them, I would watch the horses grow, learn what their skills were. Not all horses were the same. While some had the powerful body and keen eye for jumping, others carried themselves in such a graceful way dressage would be perfect for them. But regardless of skill, a good horse would always work hard and aim to please.

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Sighing, I turned my attention back to the game. Andrew ran into space, urging Sebastian to pass the ball to him. In a split-second, Sebastian glanced around to assess his position. His gaze paused ever so slightly on the two opposition players to Andrew’s right. It may have appeared that Andrew was in the clear but if Sebastian passed the ball to him, one of the two players would intercept. Instead of passing, Sebastian hit the ball through a pack of players and followed it skilfully. He was so aware of the position of his team mates that as the opposition players descended on him, he did a sneaky backward pass to Doug, the back player. Doug struck the ball towards the goal mouth.

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Andrew was not marking his opposition player and that player reached the ball first. He struck it towards the opposite goal. As the players charged to the other end of the field, I noticed Brutus throw in a couple of pig roots. I couldn’t help but smile at Andrew’s scowl.

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The bell rang, indicating the end of the chukka and half time. As the riders made their way back, Andrew was swinging his mallet carelessly and knocked Brutus near his knee. Brutus tensed on impact. I clenched my teeth and imagined Brutus taking a sudden leap sideways and Andrew falling flat on his arse. That thought alone brought a smile to my face.

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I handed the two horses I was holding to one of our game grooms. I preferred to take the ridden horses down to the truck so I could give them a quick once over.

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The closer they got, the more I willed myself to stay silent.

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One more season. One more season and I would be leaving Brisbane. I would be going home to the farm three hours north. I would be away from this life. And the rich snobs that formed a part of it.

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Stay silent.

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