For Sale or Swap - Alyssa Brugman [40]
'Thanks for not pretending,' she murmured. Everyone was watching her. Shelby held her breath, trying to hold the tears in, and squeezed her eyes shut.
Blake stood up and walked towards her. He put his hands on her cheeks.
'What's wrong, Shel?' He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. 'Did you wet your pants?'
Everybody laughed. It was a long, hearty laugh, probably bigger than the joke called for, but it felt good, and at the end, her father gave her a big hug.
After all the presents were opened, Shelby helped her mum make the Christmas lunch. She set the table and folded the serviettes into hats. She tossed and dressed the salads, and laid the cold ham slices out onto a plate.
In the lounge room, Blake and Connor played with their new toys while their father lay on the floor on his belly helping them put together the moving parts.
When they sat down for lunch Shelby's parents took ages to serve the boys – cutting up their meat and ladling out gravy and sauces. Aunt Jenny looked across the table at Shelby.
'You lost your little pony,' she said.
Shelby nodded and looked down at her plate. She felt a familiar tightness across her chest. Last Christmas Dad had let her keep Blue in the back garden, and the pony had stood in the shade at the back window dozing, with his ears twitching the flies away.
'I had a horse when I was about your age.'
Shelby looked up. She couldn't imagine Aunt Jenny ever being her age. 'Really?'
'My first was a stockhorse – Rex. Then after that I had a grey thoroughbred. He was called Kaiser when we got him, but it was not such a good name at the time. I renamed him Skydancer.' She laughed. 'I used to ride him over jumps and hedges, and pretend I was the girl in National Velvet. What was her name? I can't remember now.'
'Velvet,' said Shelby.
'Of course, it was too.' Aunt Jenny sighed. 'Velvet Brown. Skydancer indulged me, bless him. I daresay life with me was almost as hard work as his time on the track.'
'Did you go to Pony Club?' Shelby asked.
Aunt Jenny shook her head. 'We had cattle. All the horses worked – and the dogs and cats. Our family never kept animals that didn't earn their meals.'
For the first time Shelby had an image of a younger Aunt Jenny, wearing an Akubra with a stockwhip in her hand, astride a big sleek thoroughbred, and galloping along a sloping plain, like one of the women from McLeod's Daughters – like Tess, who was Shelby's favourite.
Young Aunt Jenny, she thought. A jillaroo – with real teeth.
19 A Trap for a Bushranger
The plan didn't eventuate the way the girls had expected. First, Hayley backed out. Shelby thought she might. There was too much risk for her. Erin started off enthusiastically, and had come up with most of the plan herself, but in the end it was Lindsey who had been the most practical.
Monica rang Mr Morgan because she sounded the oldest. Her slightly clipped accent gave a business-like impression. Erin kept giggling in the background, and that put Monica off, but she still managed to set the trap, because a few days later Mr Morgan turned up at the stables in his truck.
Shelby watched through a crack in the wall of Erin's tack room.
'That's him!' she whispered.
Erin grabbed Shelby's shoulder, making her jump. 'Get down!'
'He can't see me,' Shelby replied, frowning.
'Let me look,' Erin said, bouncing up and down.
'You can look through the door. He hasn't seen you before.'
Erin crouched down and peered around the corner, as though she was a private detective on a case.
The man wandered over to where Lindsey was working near the feed shed. She shaded her eyes with her hand, and pointed towards the Crooks' yards. After he had turned away, she gave a surreptitious thumbs-up in Shelby's direction.
Mr Morgan turned his head left and right, appraising the horses in the yards as he walked.
'He thinks it's a smorgasbord,' muttered Shelby, her eyes narrowing.