Page 41 of Wild Horses

Christy stood in the old hall one Saturday morning in early November, sun streaming through the dusty windows. Half-a-dozen students were scattered across the stage, engaged in improvisation exercises that she’d set for them.

‘Remember to let your emotions guide you.’ Her voice echoed in the large space. ‘Don’t overthink it. Trust yourself to just react.’

The creak of the hall’s heavy wooden door drew her attention. A figure crossed the threshold, framed by the doorway. She turned and found herself staring at Andrew, his familiar face so out of place in Merriang that at first she couldn’t make sense of it.

He stepped inside and offered a tentative smile. ‘Hey, Christy.’

The kids sensed the shift in atmosphere and paused their activities. Christy quickly regained her composure and introduced Andrew to the group. ‘All right, everyone, you’ve done a terrific job today, but it’s almost lunchtime. Who’s up for a stroll into Merriang for a bite to eat?’

All six hands shot up. ‘Right, then. You can each put a pie and can of drink on the general store’s account. Anything else you’ll have to pay for yourself. We’ll meet in the main street outside the store in forty minutes. Then I’ll ferry you guys back home.’

Andrew chimed in. ‘I can help with lifts, if you’d like.’

Christy thanked him, still processing his unexpected arrival. The kids gathered their things, chattering excitedly as they headed out. Once the hall was empty, the air felt thick, charged with unspoken words. Christy turned to Andrew. ‘What brings you all the way out here from Sydney?’

‘You, of course.’ His blue eyes creased at the corners as he offered a reassuring smile. She’d always liked his eyes. ‘Did you get the email from Bill Mannix? The one with the offer?’

‘What offer?’

‘Check your junk mail,’ Andrew suggested.

With a confused frown Christy opened her laptop and navigated to her email.

She clicked through to the junk folder and, sure enough, there it was.

An official-looking email from the new principal of St Luke’s College, offering her a big salary increase and the position of co-head of drama.

She stared at the screen. ‘I don’t understand . ..’

‘The college wants you back, Christy, and Mr Mannix is willing to pay top dollar.’

‘But what about the allegations?’ she asked in amazement.

‘Samuel finally told the truth about that diary of his.’

Christy gasped, momentarily lost for words. ‘What did he say?’ she managed at last.

‘That he was sorry, and then he swore that you were completely innocent.’ Andrew looked around, moved closer and whispered conspiratorially. ‘Poor kid. He wouldn’t admit it before because he was scared to tell his religious parents that his crush was on a male teacher.’

Christy took in the news, and the puzzle pieces began to fit.

It all made sense, especially since she’d met the boy’s formidable parents.

She was full of questions. ‘Is Sammy okay? What sort of support is he getting? Who was the teacher? Did he actually abuse Sammy, or was the journal pure fantasy?’

Andrew answered the questions the best he could, finishing with, ‘I can’t disclose the teacher’s name, but be assured that the diary entries were highly imaginative flights of fancy. No actual physical harm came to the boy.’

His words landed with a punch that was both liberating and heartbreaking. Christy felt a rush of emotions – relief, anger, sadness.

‘So ... it’s really over,’ she said, more to herself than to Andrew.

He nodded. ‘It’s really over. The school board knows the truth. Your name’s been completely cleared.’ He had the good grace not to say that he’d believed in her all along, because he hadn’t. She wouldn’t forget that.

Christy closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks.

The vindication she’d longed for was finally here, but it felt bittersweet.

‘Why did Sammy wait such a long time?’ she asked, her voice breaking.

‘It’s been months.’ But she already knew the answer.

The boy had been terrified of his parents and of being outed.

No wonder it took him so long to find his courage.

‘Apparently guilt over your departure was eating away at him all this time,’ said Andrew.

‘Samuel finally confided in the school counsellor. And before you ask – no, I don’t mean Graham Porter.

We have a new person filling that position.

Gina Campbell offers a much more sympathetic ear.

’ He stepped closer and put a familiar, comforting arm around her shoulders.

‘And what about you, Andy?’ She wiped her eyes. ‘Why are you really here? You could have just called to make sure I got that email.’

He hesitated. ‘It’s such important news that I thought someone should tell you in person. And ... I guess I hoped we could talk. About us, maybe?’

Christy shook her head, the emotions swirling inside her too complex to untangle.

Andrew gave her arm one last squeeze. ‘How about I make us both a coffee?’

He headed towards the kitchenette, and she trailed after him. ‘Don’t use the electric jug,’ she said automatically. ‘It shorts out the fuse box. You have to fill the kettle and use the little gas camp stove on the bench. Oh, and the fridge doesn’t work, so I’m afraid there’s no milk.’

Andrew looked doubtfully at the piggy-backed double adaptors and the power point half-hanging from the wall. ‘That set-up looks dangerous,’ he said. ‘You need to get an electrician in pronto.’

‘Tell me about it,’ said Christy. ‘But electricians like being paid, and I’m a bit short right now.’

Andrew raised an eyebrow. They chatted over mugs of black International Roast instant coffee. Andrew made a face when he took a sip but was too polite to complain. A poor way to celebrate the news of her career’s redemption. How she’d have loved a brew made from Tyler’s rich, artisan-roasted beans.

‘I hope I’m not overstepping the mark here, but I’m curious,’ said Andrew. ‘You’ve always been sensible with money. Why are you short of funds? What on earth is there to spend dough on way out here anyway?’

Christy shot him a rueful grin, then swept her arm wide in a theatrical flourish. ‘Behold, the Money Pit.’

Andrew looked around him, incredulous. ‘What, you mean this old dump?’

It was the wrong thing to say. Christy regarded the hall a bit like an annoying family member – she could criticise it, but woe betide anybody else who did. ‘I love this place,’ she said, frostily. ‘Why else do you think I would have saddled myself with a dodgy personal loan to buy it.’

‘You did what?’ asked Andrew, looking at her like she’d gone mad.

‘Yes, I bought it,’ answered Christy in a raised voice. ‘So, what’s it to you?’

Andrew’s expression softened. ‘I’m sorry. It’s none of my business and you must have had your reasons.’

‘My oath, I did.’ Christy was still cross, but his apology went a long way towards mollifying her. ‘Are you staying in town?’ she asked, keen to change the subject.

‘At the pub,’ he said. ‘I had no idea how far Merriang was from civilisation.’

Christy almost quipped that that was just the way she liked it, but she bit her lip. Andrew wouldn’t understand. Instead, she said, ‘Since you’ve come all this way, the least I can do is shout you dinner tonight.’

‘From the sound of things, I’d best be shouting you,’ he said with a laugh.

Such a warm, familiar sound, taking her back to a happier time when the two of them were planning their future together.

Andrew checked his watch. ‘Isn’t it time that we got those kids back to school?’

Christy smiled. ‘Ever the teacher, eh?’ But she was eager herself to return to Currawong Creek and spread the news that her name had been cleared; eager to show Clare and Tom that their faith in her had not been misplaced.

Christy sat at the corner table of the Merriang pub as the clatter of cutlery and the low hum of conversations filled the air.

She watched Astrid chatting animatedly with Andrew.

The relief of being cleared of suspicion regarding the rumours at St Luke’s College was still sinking in.

A hurt that had pressed down on her for months was finally lifting, leaving her feeling light and giddy.

Andrew had made the long journey to celebrate with her, and it felt surreal to see him there in Merriang, laughing with Astrid over a glass of sparkling wine.

Christy pushed a moment of missing Tyler away.

Nothing would spoil her happiness tonight.

Christy twirled a lock of hair around her finger as Astrid regaled Andrew with tales of her illustrious past in the theatre.

Those two got along well, exchanging jokes and stories.

Christy watched them, feeling a pang of nostalgia for the days when she and Andrew were together.

But she also felt a sense of distance: a realisation that those days were part of a different life.

As the evening wound down, Andrew stood up, brushing imaginary crumbs from his shirt. ‘Calling it a night, ladies. I’ve a long drive tomorrow.’ He turned to Christy, his expression serious. ‘Can we talk privately for a minute?’

Christy followed him out to the pub’s courtyard. The night air was refreshingly cool and fragrant, a welcome contrast to the heat of the day. Somewhere far off an owl hooted.

‘Things ended badly between us,’ Andrew began, his voice thick with regret. ‘I’m sorry, Christy, for not having your back when you faced that crap. I should have been there for you.’

She couldn’t deny the sincerity of his words. ‘Thank you, Andy. That means a lot.’

‘The truth is ... if you knew how much I miss you.’ He looked briefly at his shoes, then back at Christy. ‘Is there a chance for us?’

Christy felt a surge of conflicting emotions. The memories of their time together, both good and bad, flashed through her mind. But she couldn’t help wishing she was hearing those words from Tyler instead of Andrew. She gave him a small smile. ‘A lot has changed.’

He nodded, accepting her response with a quiet grace. ‘Take all the time you need. Let’s talk again, eh?’

They shared a brief hug before parting ways. She watched him disappear into the pub. There was so much to consider, so many paths ahead.

Christy slid behind the wheel of her car and waited for Astrid to come out and settle into the passenger seat.

Her silver hair glinted under the glow of Merriang’s two streetlights.

As Christy drove her home, the car filled with their shared silence.

When they arrived, she followed Astrid into the cosy cottage.

The scent of lavender, the mismatched furniture and bohemian vibe always made Christy feel at home.

They settled in the kitchen and Astrid made chamomile tea.

Christy wrapped her hands around the teacup, the warmth seeping into her fingers, which were cold despite the mild night.

She took a tentative sip, feeling the liquid’s calming effect spread through her body.

Then she told Astrid her dilemma. ‘What should I do? St Luke’s is offering me a huge salary and the position of co-head of drama.

It’s an incredible opportunity to redeem my reputation and really make my mark in the field of arts education.

’ She didn’t mention that the extra income would also allow her to escape the financial trap that was keeping her awake nights.

‘I’m torn between going back to Sydney and staying here. ’

Astrid’s grey eyes pinned Christy with a peculiar intensity. ‘Only you can answer that, my girl. Forget about everyone else’s needs and focus on what you want. Rest assured that the drama society will thrive with or without you, and the hall will be in safe hands.’

Christy shot her friend a grateful smile. ‘I just wish I knew what the right choice was.’

‘Sometimes, there isn’t a right or wrong choice,’ Astrid offered, unhelpfully. ‘Trust your instincts.’

‘Would you do a tarot reading for me?’

To her surprise, Astrid’s eyes darkened, and she shook her head.

‘Why not?’ Christy’s forehead creased in confusion. ‘You’ve offered before.’

‘The cards can be fickle friends, and their guidance is not always clear.’ Astrid’s fingers brushed the deck that lay on the coffee table, as if she longed to hold it. ‘Sometimes we must find our own way,’ she said gently. ‘The answers you need are within yourself.’

Christy frowned, unable to hide her disappointment. She finished her tea and stood. ‘I guess I’ll go then.’

Astrid hugged Christy but did not try to stop her. ‘Goodnight, my dearest girl. Get some sleep.’

Christy left the cottage, rubbing her temples, trying to fend off a headache. As she glanced back, an unexpected movement caught her eye. Through the window she saw Astrid illuminated by flickering candlelight, laying out tarot cards on a black velvet cloth. The sight sent a shiver down her spine.