The Wish Pony

by Catherine Bateson

  The Wish Pony slept another night in Ruby’s hand – all night this time, no one thought to take him away. This was more like it. He sent his wishes up like fireworks, he was so happy.

  Let Ruby’s baby brother get stronger every day.

  Let Ruby’s mother be happy.

  Let them both come home soon.

  Let Prancing Pooches be a huge success.

  Though really, he thought, Prancing Ponies had a better ring to it – and ponies could prance, unlike dogs who were faking it. Prancing Ponies would be a business success – the name alone would ensure it. But there weren’t that many ponies around Ruby’s street, he had to admit. Just him, really – and he wasn’t prancing anywhere except in his heart. That was good enough for him.

  Being perfectly good for days on end was extremely difficult. I managed very well for a whole week and a bit. Mum came home and Dad and I cooked pasta, bought flowers and I painted a Welcome Home banner. But Mum was worried and tired all the time and never really home. She spent as much time as she could at the hospital.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ruby, I’ll make it up to you, but right now he needs me. They say the babies improve much more quickly if they get contact with parents. You do understand, don’t you?’

  I said yes, of course I did. But I was lying. What about me? Just because I didn’t have to improve didn’t mean I didn’t need her. I looked at my first fifteen dollars from Tom and wondered about a really good summer visor I’d seen on the way home from school. It was only ten dollars and orange. I liked orange. It was a today colour. Bree and Sarah both had orange thongs. I didn’t want orange thongs, but a sun visor was a different thing entirely.

  I didn’t spend the money on myself, though. I bought a big bowl-shaped pot instead. I had to tell Dad about the garden in order to get it home, because Magda didn’t have a car. He promised he wouldn’t interfere, but he did anyway. In a good way. He shouted me a bag of blood and bone and one of potting mix. Which wasn’t really interfering, as he pointed out, just speeding along my project a bit.

  ‘You want it to be ready when Mum brings the baby home from hospital,’ he pointed out and he was right, I did. But I wouldn’t let him buy the flowers – I wanted another pot first and that would take another week of Grinder walks.

  They still hadn’t named my brother. Every night we played a new game – name the baby. But none of the names we thought of seemed quite right. He wasn’t a Jeremy (thank heavens!) or a Sam (though I thought he might grow into a Sam, given a chance) or a Phillip (Mum!) or even a Jack. He wasn’t a William (after granddad) or a Thomas (after my other granddad) or an Edward (because Dad was).

  ‘Did you have as much trouble naming me?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh no,’ Mum said, ‘I always knew you were a Ruby. Well, a little while before you were born, I knew you were a Ruby. It was my mother’s favourite stone in the world. I wanted you to have some connection to her. You were an easy baby, Ruby. Baby Logan is just a bit more difficult. We would probably have thought of his name before he was born, he just surprised us all by coming so early.’

  She looked less worried as the days went by and Baby Logan grew. We all went into the hospital – which I hated. He still mostly slept, though, with his eyes closed. It was ages before I realised he had blue eyes because I’d hardly ever seen them open.

  ‘Cameron?’ I suggested coming home one evening. ‘Jackson? Some kind of wonderful name from an old book, maybe? Caspian?’

  The Three Geeketeers were reading the Narnia books – I knew because I’d seen Bailey with one at lunchtime and the day before I’d seen the very same book in Magda’s book basket. She saw more of Bailey than me now that Mum was home most afternoons and able to look after me.

  ‘I wish they’d find a name for Baby Logan,’ I told the Wish Pony, holding him that night. I blew gently into his glass nostrils – I’d read recently that horses liked it when you did that. I had decided I might be a vet when I grew up so I borrowed animal books from the library. When I blew in his nostrils, the Wish Pony seemed to very gently huff back at me. ‘How is he supposed to grow properly without a name?’

  I dropped in on Magda the next afternoon, with Grinder. Grinder liked Magda’s place. He sat in the kitchen with his head on Magda’s lap – she didn’t even mind him slobbering – and listened while we talked.

  I told Magda about wanting to be a vet.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘you’d never be lonely, not with all those animals around. On your way out, you might like to look in the book basket. I’m pretty certain there’s an animal book there.’

  I took My Family and Other Animals home with me. A boy was the hero – I normally prefer books about girls – but this boy had this great weird family and they lived on an island somewhere. He didn’t even have to go to school but just listened to stories all day and collected scorpions. It was unlikely that, as a vet, I’d ever be called out for a scorpion, but he also had a couple of dogs. It seemed to me that we should all grow up like he did. I didn’t want to stop reading and snuck out to the kitchen to borrow the torch for a little while – just to the end of the chapter.

  I was so busy reading at breakfast time, and Dad was so busy checking out his eBay bargains, that we were both running late that morning – me for school and him for work.

  It wasn’t until we got to school that I realised there was an excursion that morning and I should have been there by 8.20 – not 8.45.

  ‘You’ll have to drive me to the station,’ I said, ‘they were catching a train. Remember – you signed the excursion form. You should have remembered.’

  ‘Ruby, I can’t take you to the train. Anyway they will have left by now. You’ll simply have to spend the day at the school.’

  ‘Dad! They were going to Parliament House and everything. You’ve already paid.’

  ‘I don’t care. There’s nothing I can do. Quick, out you hop! Look, there’s another kid about your age. Look’s like he’s missed the boat, too.’

  It was Bailey, loitering near the gates, looking this way and that, but not actually walking through the school gate.

  ‘Bailey,’ I said, but Dad was already pulling away.

  ‘Hi, Ruby. You’re late.’

  ‘So are you.’

  ‘I know. I really wanted to go to Parliament House, too. It’s all Dad’s fault. I’ve texted him. He made me late.’

  ‘So he’s come back to your Mum?’

  ‘No chance. I have to spend Wednesday nights with him. Bonding,’ Bailey said gloomily. ‘But he said he’d come and give me the train fare and I could catch a later train. You could come, too – he’ll give me enough money.’

  ‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’

  ‘Here he is – Dad! I need twenty dollars – Ruby’s missed the excursion, too. We’ll go in together.’

  ‘Hi, Ruby,’ Bailey’s dad’s voice was like Santa’s, ‘how’s it going? You’ve missed the excursion, too. Well, never mind. Hop in and I’ll take you both to the station and you can catch the next train in.’

  ‘All by ourselves,’ I whispered to Bailey in the back seat, ‘I don’t think the school would be happy ...’

  ‘I’m not going to be happy missing out on Parliament House,’ Bailey said, ‘I might want to be a politician when I grow up.’

  ‘Really? I want to be a vet.’

  ‘Here you go, kids. Don’t spend it all at once.’ Bailey’s dad handed Bailey a ten dollar note and gave me one as well.

  ‘Gee, um Mr … thanks very much. I’ll pay Bailey back.’

  He waved a hand dismissively, ‘Don’t even dream of it, kiddo. It’s my small investment in the future of this country. I’m just pleased I was around to help you both.’

  ‘Bye, Dad, have a good week. Oh – and don’t forget to ring the school. Tell them you’ve taken Ruby as well, okay?’ Bailey waved him off. ‘We’ll use my money for the tickets and yours for lunch, okay?

  ‘Bailey, I’ve never been into the city by myself. Have you?’
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  ‘No,’ Bailey said, ‘but hundreds of people, probably thousands, manage it. It can’t be that hard.’ He marched up to the railway person sitting in the little office and asked him how we’d get to Parliament House. I thought the man might ring the police. I certainly didn’t think he’d just hand over two tickets, which is what he did.

  ‘Easy peasy,’ Bailey said smugly. ‘I hope you’ve brought a book, Ruby, because I like to read in trains.’

  ‘Course I’ve got a book. It’s fantastic, too.’

  ‘Magda’s book basket?’

  I nodded. Bailey took out his book and began to read. I took out my book, too, but I was too nervous to read. What if we missed the station? What if someone strange and creepy sat next to me? How could Bailey calmly read? Across the aisle, two girls were sharing an iPod and bouncing their heads around in time to the music. In the seat behind me, some guy spoke loudly into a mobile phone. A tired-looking mother said, Not far to go now, about ten times without ever once sounding grumpy. Bailey kept reading.

  Ages later – the bouncing girls had got out, the man’s mobile had rung three more times and the toddler had fallen asleep – Bailey’s phone beeped and he emerged from his book.

  ‘Nearly there,’ he said and put his book in his bag.

  ‘How do you know?’ We weren’t even at a station.

  ‘Trip takes an hour and eight and it’s been an hour and five. I set my alarm.’

  ‘Wow. You are organised!’

  Sure enough, Parliament Station was two stops away. But my ticket wouldn’t work in the ticket machine.

  ‘You must have bent it,’ Bailey said from the other side, ‘you’ll have to climb over, Ruby – there’s nothing else for it.’

  I didn’t want to – there were too many people around and it was so embarrassing,

  ‘Hurry up, Ruby, I don’t want to miss anything.’

  I hoisted myself up.

  ‘Hey, you! Stop!’

  A hand grabbed the back of my t-shirt and hauled me down.

  ‘There are rules against fare evasion,’ a stern man in a uniform told me. ‘Now, what’s your name?’

  I couldn’t speak. I opened my mouth, but it was completely empty of words.

  ‘She has got a ticket, sir,’ Bailey was suddenly beside me, ‘it just wouldn’t work in the machine.’

  ‘You don’t go climbing over the barrier, young lady, you could hurt yourself. You should have waited for a staff member.’

  ‘There wasn’t anyone around,’ I said, my mouth suddenly working again.

  ‘It was partly my fault, sir,’ Bailey said. ‘We’re going to Parliament House and we’re already a bit late.’

  ‘Passing an important bill are we, young man? Well, off you go, both of you, have a good time.’

  Bailey found Parliament House without any trouble and then he found a guard who led us to a big room where the rest of the class was looking at pictures of important men.

  ‘What on earth?’ Waddle practically shouted. ‘Bailey Ferguson and Ruby Logan, what are you doing here?’

  ‘We were running late,’ Bailey said, ‘so Dad said to get the train in and gave us money for the ticket.’

  ‘You came in on the train?’ Waddle was pink.

  ‘Yes,’ Bailey said, ‘that’s what Dad said to do. He was going to ring the school so they could let you know.’

  ‘No one has contacted me,’ Waddle said. ‘You shouldn’t be out unsupervised.’

  ‘But Dad told us to,’ Bailey said.

  ‘Well, I suppose you are here and nothing went wrong. But really, I will have to have words with your father.’

  Bailey slouched off to stand with Sam and Joel. When he saw me not moving, he jerked his head to indicate that I should join them. I walked over and stood a couple of steps away so I was kind of with them, and kind of not. But at lunchtime, he asked me to sit with them, so I did. I ended up telling them all about the Prancing Pooches and Grinder. Sam and Joel were easy to talk to. They weren’t boy-boys – always poking and shoving – they were – well, just like people, really.

  Sarah and Bree were talking about me – I could hear my name and they kept looking over in our direction – but I just did half a hair toss – I couldn’t do the whole thing because my hair was in a pigtail – and kept right on talking to Sam, Joel and Bailey.

  On the way home, they saved me a seat with them and Sam let me listen to his iPod. I wasn’t that keen on the music, to be honest, but it was so cool to be sharing someone’s iPod so I listened anyway. It was the best day I’d had since Bree came to the school and Sarah dumped me for her.

  The phone call came late one night. Magda was eating pancakes and strawberry jam.

  ‘Oh yes, I think so. Yes. No problem. Everything’s pretty settled here, really. I’ll start packing.’

  She put the phone down and began straightaway, pulling two big battered suitcases from under her bed. She wrapped her husbands’ photographs in towels and put them in the suitcase first.

  ‘There you are, you dears. Moving on, moving on. Work’s done here. New job about to start. Good to have a change.’

  Bailey passed me a note in the first class.

  A formal invitation to join the Three Musketeers, it read. Of course, the Four Musketeers won’t sound quite as good, but we’d still like you in our group. It was signed Sam, Ryan and Bailey.

  My face went hot and I didn’t know what to say. It was the first time anyone had asked me to be part of their group. But they were boys. I couldn’t be part of a boys’ group. Or could I? Were there rules about it?

  I wrote ‘Thank you’ – that didn’t say yes or no. I could think about it until recess.

  At recess I got Bailey at his locker and said, ‘Bailey, I’m really pleased that you and Sam and Joel want me as part of the group, but … I’m a girl.’

  ‘We know that,’ Bailey said. ‘So?’

  ‘Well, it’s a little, um, unusual to have a girl in a boys’ group?’

  Bailey shrugged, ‘I don’t see why,’ he said. ‘I mean, we like talking to you. It’s not as if we’ve asked you to be on a football team or anything. I mean, feminism did happen, you know. My mum tells me about it all the time.’

  Just then Sarah and Bree walked past. I made up my mind instantly.

  ‘That’s very true, Bailey. You’re absolutely right. I’d love to join!’

  So I sat with them at lunchtime and shared Sam’s iPod again. This time I didn’t mind his music. He was listening to the Beatles and I knew some of the songs so we sang along.

  ‘Hey, Ruby, you’ve got a nice voice,’ Joel said, ‘not like Sam! He can’t hold a tune.’

  Then they did the boy poking and shoving thing but it was okay.

  After school, Bree caught up with me on the walk up the hill.

  ‘Ruby!’ She’d run.

  I didn’t answer. I just kept walking with my head down.

  ‘Ruby, I want to talk to you.’ Bree danced ahead of me and stood blocking my way. ‘Please?’

  I stopped. I still didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. What would Bree want to talk to me about?

  ‘I just want to say,’ the words rushed out of her mouth as though she’d been practising them, ‘that I think you’re really cool. It was like, awesome, the way you and Bailey just turned up at the excursion yesterday and you both went on the train and everything. I really thought that was cool. I wouldn’t have been game. I’d really like to be your friend, Ruby. I know we’ve had our differences but I’d really to be your friend.’

  ‘You’ve got Sarah,’ I said and took a step forward.

  ‘The thing with Sarah is that … well, we don’t have a lot in common really. I mean she’s sweet but ...’ She gave a little shrug as if we both knew what she meant.

  I stared at her. How could she think she could be my friend by being mean to Sarah?

  ‘I don’t want to be your friend,’ I blurted out. ‘I never wanted to be your friend.’

 
Bree’s mouth fell open but she shut it quickly and raised her eyebrows. ‘You’d rather be friends with the nerds?’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ I answered and pushed past her and kept walking.

  ‘You’re a loser, Ruby Logan,’ she yelled out behind me but I didn’t even bother to turn around.

  Mum was home and the house smelt of chocolate muffins and paint.

  ‘What do you think of Tim?’ she asked me as soon as I came in the front door.

  I wrinkled my nose. ‘Everyone’s called Tim,’ I said, ‘what about Sebastian?’

  ‘It’s such a big name and he’s such a little baby.’

  ‘But he needs a name to grow into,’ I pointed out, ‘he won’t stay little forever, Mum.’

  ‘I know. But it’s still a big name. Do you want to come into the hospital on the weekend and see him?’

  I hesitated. I really didn’t like the hospital and it wasn’t as if Baby Logan did anything. He just slept and sometimes he cried. It was a little sad cry and I hated hearing it.

  ‘Please?’

  ‘Okay, but I’ve homework to do, so not for long?’

  ‘That’s a deal, sweetheart. I know the hospital’s hard.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ I lied. ‘I’ve got homework.’

  It wasn’t until I was walking Grinder that I thought of the perfect name. We could call Baby Logan Gerald, after the man who wrote My Family and Other Animals. It wasn’t too big a name. But it was still a name you could grow into.

  I could hardly wait until dinnertime, but I did. I wanted Dad to hear, too.

  ‘Hmm,’ he said and looked over at Mum, ‘what do you think?’

  ‘Gerald,’ she said softly and then again, ‘Gerald Logan. Sounds like an explorer.’

  ‘I like it,’ Dad said, ‘it’s not – you know – faddish like Troy and all those names of American places. No, I like it. It’s a good name.’

  ‘Just so long as no one calls him Gerry,’ Mum said, ‘I don’t like Gerry.’

  ‘I do,’ I said, ‘it sounds like a happy name. I like Gerry.’

  ‘Well, just so long as not many people call him Gerry,’ Mum said, ‘I like Gerald. It’s dignified.’