Older

By M.H. Vickers

A sociopath managing an aged care facility: What could go wrong?

Precocious and pretty Maxine Gilbert is a clever and talented nine-year-old, adored by a doting father. She is also cruel, sadistic and without remorse, delighting in manipulating others and torturing small animals. When her mother is diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease, Maxine is disgusted, not just by her mother’s disability, but by the inconvenience it brings. Watching a nurse care for her mother, Maxine learns that nurses can hurt or heal. Maxine decides to be a nurse when she grows up.

Forty years on, after countless complaints against her nursing in various clinical care settings, Maxine scams a job as Managing Director of an aged care facility, Treetops, and the residents are in for a rough time.

Under Maxine’s management, physical and medical restraint of residents is encouraged, and neglect, poor hygiene, and restrictions of residents’ liberty, nourishment and medical support are exhorted. Frightened, depressed, and malnourished residents are left isolated, locked away, and laying in their own waste. They develop excruciating infections, suffer illness, and even die. Maxine faces rising antagonism from Treetops’ residents, and their friends and family. 

A new carer at Treetops, Seleena, who recently escaped an abusive marriage, cannot stay silent. Along with warning residents, and others, Seleena writes a letter of complaint. After finding a suspicious lump in her breast, could Maxine, who always hated illness and vulnerability in others, finally learn compassion? Or will she continue her ruthless ways?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Apr 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9781035810321

M.H. Vickers

Margaret Heather Vickers was born in Broken Hill, New South Wales, Australia, in 1962. After completing a Technical Certificate, she worked in industry for several years, before returning to university to study a Bachelor of Business, an MBA, and a PhD (with full scholarship). As Professor of Management, Margaret investigated life- and work-related trauma and adversity for workers faced with disability and chronic illness, bullying and violence, grief and loss, redundancy, or undertaking carer roles. Writing now as M.H.Vickers, Margaret draws on 25 years of witnessing trauma in organisational life. Margaret lives in Sydney and Older is her first novel.

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About the Author

Margaret Heather Vickers was born in Broken Hill, New South Wales, Australia, in 1962. After completing a Technical Certificate, she worked in industry for several years, before returning to university to study a Bachelor of Business, an MBA, and a PhD (with full scholarship). As Professor of Management, Margaret investigated life- and work-related trauma and adversity for workers faced with disability and chronic illness, bullying and violence, grief and loss, redundancy, or undertaking carer roles. Writing now as M.H.Vickers, Margaret draws on 25 years of witnessing trauma in organisational life. Margaret lives in Sydney and Older is her first novel.

Copyright Information ©

M.H. Vickers 2023

The right of M.H. Vickers to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781035810307 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781035810321 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

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Part I

1976, Younger

Chapter 1

Maxine Gilbert, 9 years old

Go on, you do it, said Maxine. Her left eye twitched as she passed the wriggling frog in the jam jar and the pointy, gleaming, aluminium knitting needle to stupid Gary.

Nine year old Maxine sat cross-legged on the rose printed bedspread Mummy bought for her birthday, opposite ten year old Gary from next door. Gary had come to play while his mother, Pearl, visited with Maxine’s mummy and daddy. The grownups were all downstairs talking and drinking stinky earl-grey tea and eating yummy mint slice biscuits. Maxine knew the biscuits were yummy because she’d stolen one and gobbled it down before Pearl and Gary arrived.

She contemplated Gary gawping at the quivering, glass-encased frog. Well, go on, said Maxine, tsking. Gary was such a wuss.

Gary pressed his lips together hard and shook his head. Nup, said Gary, his voice wobbly. He held the frog and knitting needle out for Maxine to take back.

Maxine rolled her eyes, huffed, and flicked one of her long golden plaits behind her left shoulder. Gary was pathetic. She snatched the frog and knitting needle back and put them on the bedspread between them.

Just push it through, said Maxine, like this. Holding the jar with her left hand, she pushed the pointy end of the knitting needle through one of the frog’s eyes with her right. Then, triumphant, she lifted the impaled, wriggling frog out of the jar. See. It’s easy.

That’s disgusting, said Gary, his face contorting as if Maxine was making him eat the stupid frog. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Maxine shrugged. Whatever, I’m going to add Mr Frog to my Garden Critters Collection.

Maxine started playing Garden Critters with ants and insects when she was six. She’d capture them in the garden and pin them to her corkboard to see how long their skinny legs kept running. She also liked games with Blue Morpho Butterflies (the ones with sky blue and black wings. Maxine read about them in her animal encyclopaedia). Butterflies were great: they kept fluttering for hours. But lately, Maxine preferred lizards and frogs. She’d ignited a blue tongue lizard once: just held a lit a match under its wriggling body while holding it by the tail. Poof, it burst into flames. Maxine then stole some two inch nails and a small hammer from Daddy’s toolbox to nail the charred lizard to her corkboard because a pin hadn’t been long enough.

Maxine studied Gary and imagined pressing the knitting needle through one of Gary’s bulging, pale blue eyes. Would his eye pop, or would it bleed? Maybe gooey stuff would just squish out. But, no, Maxine knew better than to do that. Even though Daddy probably wouldn’t mind too much, Mummy would be mad.

Mummy was always going mad on Maxine about something. Sometimes, Mummy even made Maxine miss ballet lessons. Maxine loved ballet and she was the best ballerina in the class. Yep, Mummy would almost certainly make Maxine miss ballet if she poked stupid Gary’s eye out.

Maxine bent down and reached under her bed. She dragged out a large, oblong corkboard that displayed her prized garden critters. It smelled a bit, kind of like the mud at the bottom of the dam in the top paddock, but Maxine didn’t mind.

Look, said Maxine, proud of her achievements. She turned the board around for Gary to admire.

But stupid Gary didn’t like it. His big squishy blue eyeballs just got bigger and more bulbous. And then Gary started shrieking.

Stop it, Gary. Stop yelling, hissed Maxine, glaring at Gary as she bent down to push her corkboard back under her bed. Just shut up!

And sure enough, stupid Gary’s mother, Pearl, arrived breathless at Maxine’s bedroom door a few moments later. Pearl’s stringy, brown fringe flopped in her face as she planted her hands on her lumpy, fat hips. Pearl’s chin jutted out the way it always did when she was annoyed but pretending to be nice.

Hello Pearl, said Maxine, who always called Gary’s mother ‘Pearl’ even though Pearl looked nothing like a pearl. Pearl had lots of lines on her face as well as clumpy bits around her bottom and tummy, which looked a lot like congealed milk when she wore shorts or her swimsuit. Pearl also used to go mad at Maxine all the time and Pearl was always dobbing Maxine in to Daddy. Maxine reckoned Pearl would be a very bad Mummy. She even felt a bit sorry for stupid Gary sometimes, for having such a stupid, yucky Mummy. It was no wonder he was such a pathetic wuss.

That’s ‘Mrs Housebaker’ to you, Maxine luv, said Pearl. Now, what’s going on here? Pearl’s coffee bean eyes bugged out at Maxine from behind her thick, dark rimmed glasses.

Maxine rolled her eyes.

Chapter 2

Pearl Housebaker, 36 years old

Pearl pushed her bangs out of her eyes and looked from her tearful ten-year-old son to Jimmy and Alison’s strange little girl, Maxine.

Maxine, luv, I asked you a question. What’s going on? said Pearl who could still hear muffled voices downstairs. It was probably Jimmy and Alison arguing about Maxine, again. Maxine?

It’s just my science project, said Maxine, flicking one of her blonde plaits over her shoulder as she continued pushing what looked to Pearl like a noticeboard under her bed with the heel of her tennis shoe. Gary was helping me with it, weren’t you Gary? said Maxine, not taking her eyes off Pearl while she spoke.

No, I wasn’t, shrieked Gary through fresh tears. He jumped off Maxine’s bed and rushed to his mother’s side. It’s Maxine’s and it’s disgusting. And she killed a frog too. Look, Mum. It’s still on the bed.

Pearl stepped into Maxine’s bedroom and went over and peered at the dead frog laying on the bedspread. Was that a knitting needle sticking out of the poor little frog’s head? Goodness. What had Maxine done this time? Pearl felt as if she’d eaten a dozen raw garden snails. Pearl bent down and pulled the corkboard out from under Maxine’s bed. It smelled putrid, like the septic tank at the bottom of Pearl’s garden, and was adorned with lots of insects, butterflies, frogs and a couple of lizards. A few of the poor wriggling creatures were not quite dead.

Pearl felt sweat break out on her forehead as she fought the urge to throw up.

It wasn’t just that Maxine was naughty, or cheeky (and she was). But Maxine did unpleasant things, nasty things, cruel things. It was unseemly, especially in such a pretty girl. And unsettling.

This isn’t a very nice thing for little girls to do, said Pearl, pausing, unsure what else to say to this diabolical child. Pearl felt the Niggle, as she watched Maxine giggle and get down off her bed and skip over to the window where she gazed out over the garden, totally ignoring Pearl. You know Maxine luv, said Pearl, hearing her mother’s words ringing in her ears from the dim dark past, if you’re not nice, bad things will happen to you. When you’re older, no-one will love you and you’ll be left all alone. You don’t want that do you?

Maxine’s head snapped around and she glared at Pearl.

Chapter 3

Jimmy Gilbert, 40 years old

Jimmy arrived upstairs just in time to hear Maxine blow a raspberry at his neighbour, Pearl, who was standing in Maxine’s bedroom doorway, with her snivelling son Gary behaving as though he’d been surgically attached to Pearl’s right hip.

Is everything all right up here, Pearl? said Jimmy.

Not really, Jimmy, said Pearl, her voice loaded with understatement. You might want to see this.

Jimmy stepped into Maxine’s bedroom where his little princess was standing over near her bedroom window, glowering at Pearl.

Hey, Princess, said Jimmy. Everything okay? Did you and Gary get into a fight?

Maxine shrugged and turned back to stare out her window at the farm below.

Jimmy, look at this, said Pearl. It’s not normal, said Pearl disengaging Gary’s clinging hands from her thigh. She stepped over to Maxine’s bed where she pointed to the knitting needle impaled frog. Maxine did this, said Pearl.

Jimmy looked briefly at the dead frog and sighed. Pearl, you—

Pearl interrupted him, which was annoying. Pearl never gave his little princess a chance; she was always on Maxine’s case. It gets worse, Jimmy, said Pearl, picking up a rectangular, flat board with stuff stuck to it from on top of Maxine’s bed. She held it at arms’ length as she carried it over to show Jimmy, her face looking as if she’d just taken a bite of a raw onion.

Jimmy recognised the corkboard he’d given Maxine last Christmas. He’d intended it for Maxine’s bedroom wall, for her to post family photos, ballet certificates, athletics ribbons. That sort of thing.

Whoah, said Jimmy, as Pearl brought it close. He screwed up his nose and took an involuntary step back as he accepted the corkboard adorned with dead creatures. Jimmy closed his eyes for a moment, wondering what he was going to tell Alison this time about their little girl. Maxine was a bit different from other nine year old girls, but she was still his little princess and just a kid. Jimmy was fed up with people picking on her. Is this yours Maxie? said Jimmy, opening his eyes after he’d regained his composure. He made his face and voice soft.

Maxine stared into the distance. Maybe, she said, shrugging.

It’s alright Maxie. You’re not in trouble, said Jimmy. His heart ached for his darling girl who had trouble fitting in, at school, at ballet, anywhere really. It was hard to watch.

Maxine turned from the window and ran over and flung herself at Jimmy, hugging him and winding both her hands around his neck.

I did it for you, Daddy. I thought you’d be proud, said Maxine on the verge of tears. "You gave me the corkboard. You did. And you’re the best Daddy in the world and I’m going to love you forever."

I love you too, Princess, whispered Jimmy, hugging his precious girl. After a few moments, Jimmy unwrapped Maxine’s tentacle-like arms, and turned back to face Pearl.

Pearl, Maxine’s just a kid. I don’t want you rousing on her anymore. As for this, said Jimmy picking up the corkboard, I’ll take care of it. This is Maxine being creative. I’m sure it’s just a phase and she’ll grow out of it. You’ll see, said Jimmy. And I’d prefer it if you didn’t say anything to Alison about this. This is none of your business, Pearl, and Alison’s got enough to worry about right now without you making things worse.

Jimmy registered the hurt on Pearl’s face. He’d seen it before, a long time ago.

Chapter 4

Gary Housebaker, 10 years old

The next morning, Gary awoke to the sound of the rooster crowing. The ruby dawn sky heralded rain. It was school holidays, so Gary lay for a few minutes to think about yesterday before getting up.

Gary hated going over to the Gilberts with Mum. He hated that his goodie-two-shoes brother John didn’t have to go because John was twelve already and was allowed to stay home on his own. But more than that, Gary hated spending time with that twisted nutjob Maxine; he couldn’t stand her.

Yesterday was the worst yet. Maxine killed that poor little frog, poked it right through the eye. Gary couldn’t get the image out of his head. He wanted to vomit whenever he thought of it.

Anyway, it was time to find his kitty Snowflake and give her some breakfast. Gary loved Snowflake.

Gary got her from the Toowoomba Veterinary Clinic where he used to go on Saturdays, or after school, to help clean out the animal cages and stuff. Snowflake had been brought in to the clinic as a scrawny, grubby stray. Gary helped the Vet clean her up, treat her cuts, and feed her. He fell in love with the tiny white fluffball and he hoped no one would claim her.

And no-one did.

So, when Gary’s Mum finally said he could keep her, Gary ran up and down their hallway whooping with joy. Snowflake was so gentle and trusting: Gary could play with her all day. And Snowflake belonged to Gary. Not John, not his mother. Just Gary.

Gary opened the back door expecting to see Snowflake waiting on the back step as she did every morning. But she wasn’t there.

Snowflake? Snowflake? Gary called. Here, kitty, kitty.

Chapter 5

Maxine

Maxine remembered Snowflake at lunchtime, as she finished her brown bread and Vegemite sandwiches. After getting up from the kitchen table and washing her plate, Maxine headed outside into the now sunny garden. It had threatened rain earlier, but now the sun was warm and high in the sky.

Maxine trotted around the side of the big old house towards Daddy’s cellar. Once there, she crouched down beside the heavy wooden cellar door and listened. She couldn’t hear anything at first, so she tapped on the wooden door.

Hello Snowflake. Are you still in there?

Snowflake whimpered from the other side of the door, which was good for three reasons: one, Snowflake was still trapped in the cellar where Maxine locked her last night; two, Snowflake was Gary’s kitten and Gary dobbed on Maxine yesterday and deserved to be punished; and three, Snowflake’s frightened mewling from inside the cellar made Maxine feel excited inside, as if it were her birthday or Christmas or something.

Maxine was relieved she hadn’t forgotten about Snowflake, which could have happened. Maxine had sometimes forgotten other small animals she’d trapped, finding them days or weeks later, at the bottom of a dry well, or starved to death in a bucket they couldn’t escape from. Gary’s kitten would have died in the cellar if Maxine had forgotten, because kittens probably wouldn’t last very long without food or water.

And what a waste that would’ve been.

After Maxine enjoyed listening to the whining kitten for a few minutes, she pushed open the door. She could smell the musty cellar darkness and, as she peered inside, past the endless rows of dusty cardboard boxes that held Daddy’s collection of expensive wine, she could just make out the pale outline of the kitten in the darkness.

Come on, Snowflake, said Maxine, putting on her sweetest, most grown up, voice. Puss, puss, puss?

Maxine rubbed her thumb and forefingers together and, after a moment, she could see the small white blob emerging from the darkness towards her. As the kitten came closer, Maxine was able to reach in and stroke the fur around its throat, feeling a warm vibration as Snowflake started to purr.

Shooting both her hands into the darkness, Maxine grabbed the kitten by its forelegs and dragged it out through the open cellar door.

Maxine stood, clutching the squirming kitty close to her chest at first, before holding it out in front of her by the scruff of its neck, so she could avoid its needle-like claws. Maxine turned and trotted down the garden path beside the house towards the pool area. Lifting the latch on the pool’s safety gate, Maxine went to the pool, right to the edge.

She dropped the kitten in from chest height. Stepping back to avoid the splash, Maxine watched the kitten’s body slip below the surface before its legs started working like a paddle steamer, to get its little head above the water.

Maxine frowned. I didn’t know kittens could swim, she said, kneeling on the Pebblecrete path that framed the pool to take a closer look. The kitten’s eyes were stretched wide, and its pupils big and black with fear.

Perfect. If only Gary could see his precious Snowflake now. He’d been going on and on at Maxine about his pet kitten yesterday. Before she gave him the frog anyway. It was painful. Maxine also loved animals, just not the same way Gary did. Gary loved to rescue them, and look after them, and make them better. Maxine loved to tease them and play games with them and hurt them. Sometimes they even died.

Well, usually they died.

But Gary had also gone and dobbed on Maxine yesterday. And then Gary’s stupid mother Pearl got angry about the stupid smelly frog and Maxine’s Garden Critters Collection. And even though Daddy didn’t get mad about the Garden Critters (he just closed his eyes for a moment, because maybe he was tired?), Mummy would go mad if she found out about it. And Mummy controlled Maxine’s ballet lessons and chocolate cake portions, so that could be a problem. But Mummy was feeling so sick lately that Daddy told Maxine not to worry about the corkboard and the frog. Just to be nice to Mummy.

Maxine stood and folded her arms across her chest as she watched Snowflake swim round and round the pool. After a while, the moggy started to swim along the pool’s tiled sides, looking for a way out. Maxine leaned down, fascinated, as Snowflake swam up to a floatable plastic ring and struggled to climb onto it.

That’s good, Snowflake, said Maxine, giggling as she leaned down and grabbed the inflatable toy and took it out of the water. But you don’t want that, she said, throwing the ring onto the grass beyond the Pebblecrete pathway. Keep swimming, kitty. Go on, you can do it!

Maxine’s left eye was twitching as she cupped her hands in front of her face and giggled. She started running on the spot with excitement.

Still chuckling, Maxine looked at her watch and tsked. It was almost 3.30 pm. Mummy’s favourite soap opera, Another World, started soon. Yesterday, after Pearl and stupid Gary had gone home, Daddy asked Maxine to keep Mummy company while Mummy watched TV today. So, even though it was school holidays and Maxine could do whatever she wanted, Maxine promised Daddy she would sit with Mummy when she watched her stupid TV show and rested her legs. Mummy’s legs weren’t working well lately; Mummy had been stumbling and tripping over and stuff. So even though Maxine didn’t want to watch the stupid TV show with Mummy, she would do it because Daddy asked her to and she loved Daddy, and because Mummy wouldn’t be much good if her stupid legs didn’t work, would she?

So, heaving a disappointed sigh, Maxine turned to leave the pool area.

Bye, Snowflake, said Maxine. But don’t worry; I’ll come back later.

Chapter 6

Maxine

Just as Maxine got through the back door, the front doorbell rang. Maxine froze, listening, as Daddy answered the door.

Oh, Hi Jim. Maxine recognised the voice. It was stupid Pearl from next door. Gary and I are worried about little Snowflake, aren’t we Gary? Gary hasn’t seen her since yesterday and she didn’t come in for breakfast this morning. We were just wondering if you, or Maxine, might have seen her?

Maxine put her hand over her mouth and snickered as she listened.

Pearl, Snowflake isn’t here. It was Daddy’s voice. You really need to stop blaming Maxine for everything, said Daddy. Maxine could tell Daddy was annoyed with Pearl, even more than yesterday, with the frog and stuff.

Jimmy, I’m not, said Pearl, using her patient voice. We’re just trying to find Gary’s cat. Can you please just ask her?

Daddy called out: Maxine, Mrs Housebaker and Gary are here. They’re looking for Snowflake. Have you seen her?

Maxine stopped herself sniggering and paused before yelling back. No, sorry. Haven’t seen her. Maxine listened again.

See? Maxine heard Daddy’s reply to Pearl. Snowflake’s not here. But I’m sure she’ll turn up soon. I’ll let you know if we see her.

Maxine opened the back door and slipped quietly outside into the garden, closing the screen door softly behind her. She would watch the stupid TV show with Mummy another time. This was just too good; she had to tell Snowflake what was happening. She galloped down the sandstone path towards the pool area.

As she got closer, Maxine felt her stomach flip with excitement. It was like she was on the Cha-Cha ride at the Brisbane Show. Squinting towards the pool, Maxine could make out ripples in the pool water and a small dark blob moving about on the surface of the water.

Maxine jumped up and down, clapping her hands. Yay! Snowflake. You’re still swimming, said Maxine, giggling as she thought of Gary and Pearl still searching for the kitten.

Maxine opened the pool gate and stepped over to the edge of the pool. Snowflake’s body was trembling now. Maxine paused to enjoy the moment, the Cha Cha feeling spreading right through her as she crouched down beside the pool. The water smelled of chlorine as she smoothed her hand over its chilly surface.

Guess what, Snowflake? Gary’s still looking for you! Isn’t that funny? Cause you’re here! said Maxine, feeling her left eye twitch. Come on, puss. The cat turned and swam towards her, and Maxine leaned out and grabbed its wet collar, pulling the cat through the water towards her. She lifted Snowflake’s collar up, holding the kitty’s head above the water. Maxine felt the weight of Snowflake’s sodden body, straining the cat’s neck against its collar. You’ve been a good little swimmer, Snowflake, haven’t you? said Maxine, lifting the kitten’s head higher, watching the creature struggle to breathe as the collar tightened around its neck. I wonder if Gary knows you can swim? Can you swim underwater, Snowflake?

Maxine pulled the cat’s collar below the water, so Snowflake’s wide eyed, silvery face went under. The kitten gave a final weak paddle, then went limp. Maxine let go of Snowflake’s collar, sat back on her heels and peered at Snowflake’s body as it sank to the bottom of the pool.

Gary shouldn’t have dobbed.

Chapter 7

Pearl

Pearl hoped they would find Snowflake soon. She’d felt the Niggle again when she and Gary were next door asking Jimmy about Snowflake earlier. Gary’s kitten was such a dear little thing; she liked cats and was delighted Gary had taken a shine to them also. But it was an awful coincidence that Gary’s kitten went missing the morning after the upset with Maxine over the dead frog and Maxine’s disgusting insect trophy collection yesterday. Pearl wouldn’t put anything past that little girl. And Jimmy, well, it had been decades since Pearl had trusted him.

Pearl first felt her warning Niggle when she was a kid. The Niggle started out like a single cockroach crawling under her ribs. But as it got stronger, it felt like dozens of them scrambling around her insides. And her Niggle was never wrong.

But, when Pearl was younger, Mother’s Rules often caused Pearl to ignore her Niggle, which was always a bad idea. Mother’s Rules were:

Rule 1: Be a nice girl.

Rule 2: Do as you are told.

Rule 3: Know your place. No-one likes a smarty-pants.

Rule 4: Never question your elders, especially if it’s a man.

Rule 5: Never complain. No-one likes a whiner.

Rule 6: Never cry. No-one likes a cry-baby.

Rule 7: Never be silly. No-one likes a silly sausage.

Pearl found the last Rule the hardest to live by because Mother never explained exactly what a silly sausage was, or what silly sausage behaviour might include.

And being a nice girl? Pearl was unclear on that too. It could vary. Like, should she finish everything on her plate because they were starving in Africa, or would eating everything mean she was a greedy guts? (Being a greedy guts was not specifically listed in the Rules, but being one was still probably something to be avoided).

Pearl knew never to question Mother’s Rules (that would break rules 1, 2, 3 or 4 for starters). Mother enforced the Rules with the help of Father’s leather belt (complete with heavy, metal, longhorn buckle), the heel of Father’s best leather shoes, or a scrubbing brush with long hard bristles used in combination with an icy cold bath. The Rules were always enforced when Father was out working.

Despite the Rules, at the age of twelve, Pearl had a total crush on Jimmy Gilbert, who lived on the cattle farm just over the hill. All the girls at school did (except maybe Elsie, who was too fat to have crushes on anyone, let alone spunky Jimmy). Even Pearl’s best friend Alison liked Jimmy.

Jimmy was a hunk. At sixteen, Jimmy was suntanned, with pale grey eyes encircled with a black rim, and a mop of shaggy dark hair Pearl thought was divine. And Jimmy was no roughneck: he was a regular at the Toowoomba Anglican Church and sometimes helped Father around their farm. When Jimmy’s father told him too, that was.

Even church was good if Jimmy was there. Pearl would sit and stare at the stubble on Jimmy’s dimpled cheeks and wonder what it would be like to kiss him. Pearl had never kissed a boy, but she was sure she would like kissing Jimmy Gilbert.

One day, the Gilbert’s invited Pearl’s family over for a Sunday afternoon catch up, after church. Pearl wanted to do cartwheels; it was another chance to see Jimmy, even if Mother was going to be there.

So, later that day, Father’s Ute scrunched to a halt on the gravel turning circle in front of the Gilbert’s big farm house (which Pearl thought looked just like the House of Wax, from the movie), and Mr Gilbert came out of the house to greet them. And there, right behind him, was Jimmy striding along, all tanned muscled arms, checked shirt, and tight dusty jeans.

Mr Gilbert gave Father and Mother his silent, country-man’s nod of welcome, shook hands with Father, and gestured for them to follow him into the house.

Now, Jimmy, said Mr Gilbert. You look after young Pearl here while the grown-ups talk inside.

Yes, sir, said Jimmy, nodding with respect in his father’s direction, before narrowing his eyes as he gave Pearl a long hard look.

Pearl looked at the ground, trying to smooth any misbehaving strands of mousy hair behind her ears. She wished her hair shone with golden highlights like her friend Alison’s strawberry blonde hair which shimmered in the sunlight. Pearl hoped Jimmy wouldn’t notice the red, puffy pimple on the side of her nose that appeared this morning. Pearl couldn’t squeeze it because Mother said only a silly sausage squeezed pimples. So, Pearl left it, a pale ripening pustule, ready to burst.

As the moments passed, Pearl felt her face grew hot and her legs grow weak under Jimmy’s gaze. Here she was, alone with the boy she’d fantasised about for years, having been practicing her kissing technique on the back of her hand so she’d be ready if the glorious day ever came.

You’re Pearl, aren’t ya? said Jimmy.

Pearl felt her head bounce up and down like a jackhammer.

You don’t say much, do ya? said Jimmy, giving a small laugh. Do ya like horses?

Pearl loved horses. Father had given her a few riding lessons on their Melly, the old grey mare Father used for mustering. Yeah, said Pearl, daring to lift her eyes to meet Jimmy’s. Mother’s Rules rushed around her head. Pearl wanted Jimmy to like her, so she needed to be nice. But this was one of those times when Pearl wasn’t sure what that meant. She decided it would be safest to agree with Jimmy and just go along with whatever he said. Yes, that would cover Rules 1, 2, 3 and 4. Pearl felt confident she was on the right track.

Good, well I’ll give you a ride on one of our horses. You can ride, can’t ya?

Pearl felt her head jerk up and down again.

Good. I’ll give you a ride on Sailor then, said Jimmy, a hooked grin emerging.

And that was the time when Pearl first felt the Niggle. A single cockroach crawled around her ribs as Pearl thought back to a picture she’d seen of Sailor taken at the Toowoomba Country Show in last month’s edition of Hoofs and Horns. Sailor had won Quarterhorse Stallion of the Year.

Pearl followed Jimmy around the side of the house to the stockyards. There, a gigantic, glossy, muscular bay horse with a white star on his forehead stood in the middle of the round yard, snorting, and pawing the ground. Pearl was reminded of Gorgeous George, the champion TV wrestler, as she eyed the horse with its massive neck, barrel chest, and huge, powerful rump.

Sailor was not like their Melly. Not at all.

The Niggle grew stronger: many cockroaches were scrambling around Pearl’s ribs now.

Jimmy grabbed a halter as he climbed through the fence into the yard and sauntered