by K. M. Peyton
‘No, don’t do that!’
She needed breathing space. She felt sick again. Her hand was sticky on the receiver.
‘I – I’ll ride over on Big Gun, take the mare back.’
‘When will that be?’
‘Er – when – when – I can. Saturday perhaps.’
‘You’ll not let me down, I hope!’
‘Oh no, I wouldn’t do that.’
She rang off. She didn’t see how on earth she was going to do it! They were going to a show on Saturday, leaving mid-morning, and the evenings were now too short: her mother wouldn’t let her hack out any more. She realized that she didn’t know anything at all about the little bay mare. She might be hopeless on the road, or nappy, or be unsound. She didn’t even know how old she was – she might be eighteen! Julia kept going hot and cold in turn, and shivering.
On Saturday morning, they were taking Nick’s and Petra’s horses as well and going to a show near Cambridge. It would make sense to go to the show and ride Minnie over on Sunday morning, but Julia could not bear the thought of doing another show. She decided to go out early on the Saturday, before anyone else was up. If she went out the back way her mother wouldn’t see her: her bedroom was in the front, looking down the drive. Petra and Nick wouldn’t wake up if the roof fell in, only when their shrill alarm clocks went off.
Her mother thought she was ill. She was sick twice more, and couldn’t eat. She was terrified, now, of what she was doing. She must be out of her mind! Her mother would storm over to John Partridge and tear his cheque into little pieces. But Julia knew, if she flatly refused to ride Minnie ever again, her mother would be powerless. Nick and Petra were too old to jump him and the pony was useless without a rider.
On Friday night she couldn’t sleep. Then, near dawn, she was terrified of falling asleep and not waking. She got up and went to the window. It was a very fine morning, with the tip of a red sun showing over the shoulder of the hill that hid the river. The brown ploughland was crimson from the glow of the sky and a pheasant was calling at the end of the garden. Julia forgot all her frights: the moment had come and today she was buying the bay mare. Dear bay mare, be everything I want you to be, Julia prayed to the fiery sky. At last, she didn’t feel sick or frightened, only immensely happy and excited.
She crept downstairs and went out to Minnie. She left a note in the manger saying, ‘Gone for a ride’, then threw off his rugs and tacked him up as fast as she could, before any of the others thought it was feedtime and started whinnying. Then she led him out round the back and through the gate on to the bridle path, mounted and trotted away down the track. There was a hole in the hedge which gave on to a ploughed field and if she turned back the way she had come and followed the hedgerow she could go back past her house to the road. Her mother got up early, but not this early. Julia felt pretty sure she would not be seen.
Now that she had done the tricky bit, her heart soared. She rode fast, loving it, even Minnie’s arm-wrenching pulling and plunging and jinking and shying.
‘Bad luck, poor little German who gets you,’ she said to him, sitting an enormous shy as a pheasant went up from under his feet. ‘Perhaps he will teach you some manners.’
She had never managed it, not for want of trying. When she got to the dealer’s yard and dismounted, Minnie turned round and snapped at her, taking a large bite out of her quilted jacket. Julia was pleased. If he had turned affectionate and pathetic on her, she would have felt bad – but affection and pathos were not in his nature.
‘He’s a grand jumper, all the same,’ said Mr Partridge, laughing. ‘I’ll warn the German gentleman. But he’ll not be bothered. Most fine horses have a bit of spirit.’
He had a box waiting for him, and some spare rugs. Julia took off the saddle and bridle.
‘The mare—?’
‘I’ve got her in the end box. She’s quite an ordinary pony, you know. I don’t know why you would swap this grand fellow for her. I beat Porter down to just over the thousand, so your mother’s not getting a bad deal. Tell her I’m not passing your pony on at once, so she can come and talk it over with me if she’s upset about it. I don’t want to get on the wrong side of your mother, you understand. I’ve me reputation to think about.’
‘It will be all right, I promise!’Julia said wildly. All that was still to come. ‘I must see the mare!’
She ran down to the end box and looked in. The mare was standing in the far corner, very nervous and miserable. She looked tucked up and thin. She lifted her head and turned towards Julia, her large eyes expectant and fearful. Julia slid the bolt back. She moved very quietly and spoke softly, holding out her hand. The mare shifted uneasily and put back her ears. Julia reached her and put a hand on her damp neck.
‘What have they done to you?’ she whispered.
She stroked the mare steadily. The ears came forward and the mare put her muzzle against Julia’s chest and rubbed her.
‘Ah, you’ve a way with her. She’s very nervous. She’s no chicken, you know – twelve, by my judgement. She was a good pony in her day but she got into wrong hands.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Faithful.’
‘Oh, that’s a good name!’ Not like Big Gun from Minnesota.
‘She used to jump. I remember her when she was young. Bin ruined by bad riding, I dare say. Or over-pressed. Lost her confidence.’
Julia put the saddle and bridle on. She would have forgotten all about the money, but Mr Partridge said, ‘I’ve a cheque to make out to your mother. Just hang on a minute.’
Julia led the mare out into the yard and mounted. She couldn’t wait. The mare, although much the same size as Minnie, felt much smaller, being finer and without Minnie’s ebullience. She just stood still, head down, not moving. Julia couldn’t believe it. She leaned forward and stroked the quivering neck.
‘That boy must have been beastly to you,’ she whispered.
She knew she must be much lighter than the boy. (Perhaps Minnie wouldn’t pull a heavier rider about so. However, it was academic now: she no longer owned him.) Mr Partridge came out with the cheque which she zipped into her pocket; he bade her good luck, and she set off down the drive.
She did not know what she had expected, but she had ridden nothing but Minnie for so long that she had forgotten what a normal pony felt like. No prancing, no pulling, no head-tearing and bouncing, but a placid walk, looking to neither left nor right. No problems. Perfect peace. She could look at the landscape, now basking in the still-reddish light of the early sun, and listen to the birds singing in the hedge and the seagulls wheeling behind a ploughing tractor. The pony’s ears were smaller than Minnie’s and seemed further away because the neck was relaxed; the mane was thicker, less pulled, and parted untidily on both sides of the neck. For the first half of the ride home Julia felt she was riding on a cloud of happiness. Then, as she started to get close, she had to face the fact that the moment of truth was nearly upon her: her mother was not going to like it. Her mother was going to be very, very angry. All along she had accepted this, but now the deed was done and the music about to be faced, she knew she was really frightened.
She rode very slowly up her home drive and into the yard.
Fair pandemonium reigned, as always when the three of them were boxing up to go to a show. Nick and Petra were shouting at each other and her mother was standing with a face like thunder by the ramp of the horsebox. She heard the hooves approaching and bounded out round the box, looking furious.
‘Where’ve you been? What on earth do you think you’re playing at?’ She then gaped at the pony in total incredulity. ‘Whatever—? What are you doing? Where’s Big Gun?’
‘I’ve sold him,’ Julia said.
She saw Nick and Petra’s faces collapse in shock. She was unable to look at her mother. Wicked delight sparked in her brother’s eyes as he exchanged glances with Petra. Julia could see quite clearly that they were both stunned with admiration, which heartened her considera
bly.
‘Here’s the cheque. You haven’t been done.’
She unzipped her pocket and held out the envelope. Her mother snatched it from her hand.
‘John Partridge put you up to this!’ she screeched.
‘No, no! He didn’t! It was my idea. I sold him. You can buy him back if you want, but I shan’t ride him. Never!’
‘Have you gone mad?’
‘No.’
‘I don’t believe this!’
‘I told you! I told you I hated Minnie! You would never listen!’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about! And what’s this animal you’re sitting on, for goodness sake?’
‘It’s Faithful, that belonged to the Porters. She was very cheap.’
‘I’m not having that rubbish in my yard.’
‘I don’t want to jump her. I just want her as my pony.’
‘Not here. You’ll not keep that pony here.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Exactly what I say, my girl. That pony will never earn its keep. It’s rubbish. We don’t have pets here, Julia. We have good working animals. Take it back where you got it from.’
‘No!’
‘Do as I say.’
‘I can’t!’
‘Of course you can. Take it away. I’m going to a show with Nick and Petra and if that pony’s in this yard when I get back, I’ll shoot it. You haven’t heard the last of this, Julia.’
Julia was stunned.
‘It’s not her fault! You can’t turn her out! Where can she go?’
‘Oh, come off it, Julia. You’re the planner round here. You can surely think of something!’
Her mother flounced round and started chivvying Nick and Petra.
‘Come along, we’ve wasted enough time! Get those horses into the box. Have you put the tack in? Hurry up!’
In five minutes they had gone. Her mother’s parting words, as she drove away, were: ‘I mean what I say, Julia. Sort it out before I come back.’
The only thing to sort out was what to do with Faithful. No way was she going to fetch Minnie back. Julia took Faithful into Minnie’s old box and untacked her, and then sat in the straw and cried. She was swamped with hurt and self-pity and the aftermath of her sleepless nights. Her mother hated her and now she wasn’t even going to be allowed to have Faithful.
The mare came over and sniffed at her curiously, and then stood with her nose touching Julia’s shoulder, quite still. Her muzzle was soft as velvet. Julia put her hand up and, instead of biting it like Minnie would have done, Faithful gave her a friendly lick. Julia sobbed.
It was a soft, sunny morning, very still. The yard was quiet, almost sleepy, the stables empty, and the only sound was of a distant tractor ploughing. It was so long since Julia had not been to a show on a Saturday morning that it felt strange and unfamiliar, like somebody else’s stable. After a little while she gave up crying and staggered to her feet. She put her arms round Faithful’s neck and buried her face in the springy black mane.
‘I’m not going to take you back, whatever happens.’
But she was sure her mother would not relent. Her mother was a woman of her word. She would accept that Minnie was not the pony for her daughter, when forced to, but would, no doubt, today, be looking for another more suitable.
‘But I don’t want another!’
She realized that she was very hungry and thought food would make psr brain work better. So she gave Faithful a large slice of hay and went indoors and made herself some breakfast. She was alone in the house, her father away on a building site, so she had the place to herself. She tried to think of somewhere she could take Faithful, even if just temporarily until she had worked things out and, after bacon and eggs and two cups of tea, she realized the answer was quite obvious: she could take her to Drakesend. This solution was a great burden off her mind and she cheered up immediately. She had enough money in her savings to pay for a couple of weeks at least. That would give her time.
The freedom of not having to go to a show was intoxicating. Two whole days of the weekend to herself, to do what she pleased! She felt as if a great weight had been sprung from her bent back. She put the dishes in the dishwasher and ran out to the stables again, tacked up Faithful and set out for Drakesend.
She went out the back way, the long way round through the parkland instead of just down the road and the lane past Flirtie Gertie’s. She wanted the ride, time to think, to take in what she had done. Coming out of the woodland at the top, she put Faithful into her first canter over the old springy turf, and the little mare went eagerly but without pulling, like a dream pony. She had no bad in her that Julia could see, but moved easily with a very smooth and comfortable stride. It was so blissful Julia laughed out loud. When she wanted to stop, she just sat down and felt the reins and the pony came back to her – no effort. Julia found this quite mind-blowing after Minnie and could not stop a great idiotic grin bursting out on her face. They went down the hill towards the river under the big oak trees, whose leaves were bright gold against the clear sky. She had the world to herself, no roofs to be seen, only the tower of the old Elizabethan gatehouse at the bottom of the park, where once a drive had entered and curved through the park to Drakesend. It showed now as just a slightly raised grassy track.
The gatehouse tower had been empty for years, but when Sandy’s sister Josie had run off with her lover Glynn and had a baby, they set up home there. Mr and Mrs Fielding were only just beginning to talk to Josie again, the baby winning them over. It had been a jolly village scandal at the time. When Julia rode past now, she saw Josie pinning baby washing on the line. Julia thought the story of Josie and her lover living in the Elizabethan tower with their love-child was the most romantic she had ever come across, although she knew none of their parents thought so. The tower was very beautiful, with little mullioned windows looking down the river towards the sea. Round it was an old garden that Josie had brought back to life, so that it was a mass of old roses and flowers in a froth round the base of the tower, with a lawn of turf where once the Elizabethan ladies had walked. In the summer it was so pretty it hurt. Having no water and no electricity was obviously the other side of the coin, but Julia did not think about that. She just felt, as she rode past, that life was so lovely at this minute that she might burst out of her skin. Having Faithful, and thinking of Josie’s love-story, and not being at a horse show but riding across this lovely landscape by herself in the sunshine – it was almost too much to take in.
She came down to the river and rode up the bank on to the sea-wall. Hardly anybody came here, save a few people off yachts wanting to stretch their legs, and the cattle grazed the wall so that the top was lovely smooth grass. The tide was fairly high and one or two yachts were coming up, hardly moving in the soft zephyrs, very leisurely. Faithful pricked her ears enquiringly at the white sails, but walked on calmly.
Now she was getting near to Drakesend, Julia’s bursting elation started to be tempered by doubts as to the reception she might get. She knew Sandy and Leo didn’t like her much. What if Sandy said she couldn’t take Faithful? She had ridden off without thinking about that possibility. What if they were out? But usually they came this way to ride, and the day was still so early they probably weren’t ready to set off yet. Even so, Julia began to have doubts, dreading the idea of another rejection. Her mother’s words had shaken her.
As she came down the sea-wall to join the lane that led up to the village, she was surprised to hear the thud of hooves behind her. She thought it was Sandy and Leo, but it was the boy on the grey thoroughbred. She had never seen him in broad daylight before, nor so close. He pulled up on the wall above her, and she could see that he didn’t want to ride past her. He seemed to contemplate turning back, half turning the horse, but then thought better of it and came down the wall in one bound. He went past Faithful at a canter, without a word, not even looking at Julia, and rode ahead of her up the track so fast that he was out of sight behind the high hed
ges of the upper lane before Julia had properly taken it in.
Who was he?
She thought she knew the face, but couldn’t put a name to it. The horse was a rose-grey mare of about fifteen hands, thoroughbred but small, with a flowing mane and tail and wonderful, athletic movement. Although she appeared to be ridden nearly always at a gallop, there was not a speck of sweat on her. She was hard and fit. Julia, typically, had noticed more of the horse than the boy.
When she got to the Drakesend turning she found Sandy and Leo standing there, looking up the lane. They turned to Julia and with one voice said, ‘Did you see him?’
‘Yes, he passed me.’
‘Do you know who he is?’
‘No.’
‘Did you see him close to? You must have done.’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s he like?’
‘Er—’Julia tried to find words for her muddled impression. ‘Sort of – well, like a – a rough sort of boy. Looked like a gypsy, save there aren’t any round here any more. He was bareback. Fantastic rider.’
‘And no bridle?’
‘No. Just a rope halter. I don’t know how on earth he has any control.’
‘But he does, doesn’t he? He’s amazing.’
‘Yes.’ Julia pictured the way he had hesitated on top of the wall and swung the mare with his legs, holding her, then asking her for the bound down the bank. He would be ace in the jumping ring.
‘He can certainly ride.’
‘How old is he, would you say?’
‘Oh, bit older than us. Sixteenish.’
‘Long hair?’
‘No. Well, perhaps it was tied back. Yes, it might have been long. He looked dark – cross, sort of. Wore jeans and a dirty jersey. He didn’t look at me, or say anything.’
‘We thought he had long hair.’
The two girls looked dreamy and Julia saw that they had a ‘thing’ about the boy and were hoping he was everything they were looking for in life. Julia doubted if he would fit the bill. They looked at each other and giggled a bit, then Sandy said, ‘Who’s that you’re riding?’