Looking at him closely, Mrs Casey saw the truth in his eyes. ‘You’re a good lad,’ she said with a note of relief in her voice. ‘A good lad!’ She managed a wavery smile. It was the first time Ger had seen his mother smile in a very long time. The smile spread through him like warm honey.
But when he went out the door of his flat the next morning, Anto and the others were waiting for him. They weren’t smiling.
15 – Temptation
‘WHY DIDN’T YOU PUT A WORD IN FOR US?’ Anto wanted to know.
Ger gave him a look of contempt. ‘Why should I? You got caught redhanded. What were you trying to do, rob the saddles? And how’d you get away with them? Carry them on the bus?’
‘We weren’t going to rob anything, not last night,’ Rags said. ‘We just wanted to look around.’
‘In a locked tackroom?’
‘All those people are rich,’ Anto said. ‘If we did nick something, they’d never miss it. They’ve got insurance and stuff. I bet you’ve pocketed loads of stuff since you’ve been going out there.’
Ger folded his arms across his chest. ‘Is that what you think?’
Anto elbowed him and winked. ‘Yeah. You’re as cute as a pet fox, you are. We just want you to share.’
‘The people at the stables are my friends,’ Ger said.
‘We’re your friends! Those are just big snobs, they don’t care anything about you.’
‘They don’t try to drop me in it,’ Ger retorted. ‘They try to help me. They’ve given me a real job with wages. How many kids our age have a real job with wages?’
Now Anto was contemptuous. ‘Don’t be an eejit. They’re just using you to do their dirty work, like a … a servant or something. But listen here while I tell you, Ger. You’ve got a chance to make some real money. My old fella knows a fella who can sell stuff like saddles. He sells things down in the country where nobody can trace ‘em. You work at that stables, they trust you. Say, one night you just happen to leave that saddle room unlocked, see, and turn the burglar alarm off last thing before you come home. That’s all you have to do. And let us know when. I’ll tell my old fella, and you’ll get a share. Big money,’ he added, eyes glinting.
‘Don’t hold your breath,’ said Ger. ‘I’m not interested.’
It felt scary, going against them. But it made him feel grown up, too, in a funny way. Like the man riding Star Dancer in the Olympic Games with the flags flying and the crowd cheering.
Over Anto’s shoulder he saw his bus. Brushing past the older boy, he ran to catch it.
When he got to the stables the vet was just leaving. As he stood beside his van he was saying to Suzanne, ‘Your horse is going to need a long rest now. Turn him out for at least six weeks, I’d say. Two months would be better, if you want those legs to come sound again.’
Suzanne looked disappointed. ‘No more shows this season?’
‘Definitely not. And certainly no more jumping for a long time, if ever. He’ll be sound enough for dressage if you let him rest now, but I wouldn’t ever recommend jumping him again.’
‘I’m sorry, Suzanne O,’ Ger told the girl when the vet had gone.
‘We were just starting to jump so well together! And I wasn’t scared any more, Ger, not at all. It was wonderful. And Dancer loved it too, I know he did. What am I going to do now?’
‘It’s not like you have to stop riding. There are loads of other horses here. Can’t you take lessons on one of them?’
‘I can, of course,’ Suzanne agreed. ‘At least I think I can. I’ll have to ask. But it won’t be the same as riding Dancer. And if he can never do any eventing …’ Her voice trailed away.
Ger found Dancer standing patiently in his loose box with his front leg encased in bandages. When the heat and swelling were gone from his leg in a few days, he would be turned out in pasture with the retired hunters and the old ponies for a long rest.
Ger stood at the door of the loose box and Dancer at once came over to him. ‘What does it matter if you can’t jump any more?’ Ger asked the horse softly. ‘You’re still the most beautiful horse there ever was. And you can dance again, just as soon as your legs are healed. You can do more dressage tests and people can see how beautiful you are.’
When Dancer was turned out, Suzanne went to the pasture to see him every morning before her riding lesson. But then she put on her safety helmet and went off with an eager light in her eyes to ride a different horse over fences.
Ger, however, spent what little spare time he had down at the pasture gate, talking to Star Dancer. He brought the horse pieces of carrot or apple, though no sugar. Suzanne had explained that Dancer must not have sugar. Ger would lean across the gate and rub Dancer’s ears while the horse stood with his eyes half-closed in pleasure.
It would be easy to climb up onto the gate and then sling one leg across Dancer’s back. It would be so easy.
Ger resisted the temptation. Dancer had to rest and get sound again. But the boy could not help looking with longing at the horse’s brown back.
School would be starting again soon. Suzanne’s parents talked about Star Dancer, and took a hard look at their finances. Then one rainy Saturday morning they spoke to Suzanne at the breakfast table.
‘We can’t afford to keep a horse you can’t use, Suzanne,’ Mr O’Gorman said. ‘I wish we could. I know you love Dancer. But if you’re serious about eventing, and he can’t jump, you should think about a different horse. We can sell Dancer and buy you an animal you can be going on with.’
Suzanne had expected as much, but still the words hurt. Sell Dancer.
She looked at her mother. ‘Do we have to?’
‘We don’t have to, Suzanne. We can keep him, but we can’t keep him and get you an eventing horse too. You have to decide what you really want to do.’
Suzanne ran through the rain to the stables. The rain on her cheeks hid the tears. But once she was inside, it was obvious she had been crying. Her eyes were red and she went into the tackroom without saying hello to anyone.
Ger followed her. ‘What’s wrong, Suzanne O?’
She told him.
Ger didn’t see a problem. ‘Forget about eventing and just do dressage,’ he said. ‘That’s what Dancer does best anyway.’
‘Oh Ger, you wouldn’t say that if you’d ever ridden a cross-country course on a good horse. You don’t know what it’s like. It’s like … like music pounding through you, and when you come to the fences it’s like flying. Now that you helped me get over my fear, I dream about eventing all the time. How can I give it up?’
‘Could you make enough money babysitting to pay for another horse?’
Suzanne laughed. ‘You must be joking! That’s just a few pounds. Nobody pays children enough to buy a horse.’
‘How much do horses cost? A horse like Star Dancer – how much would he cost?’
‘Thousands. My dad paid two thousand pounds for him, and he only got him for that price because of his legs.’
‘He has bad legs right now,’ Ger pointed out. ‘So you couldn’t sell him for more than that, could you?’
‘I suppose not.’
Two thousand pounds. It was more money than Ger had ever thought about in all his life.
But if he had two thousand pounds he could take it to Mr O’Gorman and offer to buy Star Dancer. Then Suzanne could have another horse, and he would have Dancer.
Ger Casey would have Star Dancer.
He asked Brendan Walsh, ‘How much does it cost to keep a horse at livery?’
‘Here? Why, are you planning to have a horse?’ Brendan was amused. Ger still looked too shabby to buy an old bike, much less a horse, although Brendan had recently given him a rise in wages because he was such a hard worker for a young lad.
‘I might,’ Ger said casually.
‘Well, I could probably organise something for you. Let you do extra work to earn his keep, if you’re really serious. Talk to me in a couple of years when you’re ready.’
I
’m ready now, thought Ger.
A few days later he asked another question. ‘What do saddles sell for, Brendan?’
‘Anywhere from a couple of hundred pounds up, depending on the make and condition. A good saddle could cost almost a thousand pounds if you’re talking about something serious for competitions with its girth and stirrups and numnah and the rest.’
Ger gave a whistle.
He had never been good at maths, but he knew that ten times two hundred was two thousand.
Ten saddles would buy Star Dancer.
It seemed simple enough.
When school began, Ger hinted that he would be happy to keep on working at the stables instead of going back to school, but no one took him seriously. Brendan seemed to take it for granted that the boy would stay in school long enough to do the leaving cert.
So Ger went back to school and only worked at the stables on weekends. But he filled up the blank pages in his school notebook with sketches of Star Dancer.
He rarely saw Anto at school. The other boy stayed away most days, preferring to hang out on the street with other lads, smoking fags and talking tough. But whenever he did see Ger, Anto always referred to the stables.
‘How you gettin’ on with your posh friends, Ger?’ he would ask. ‘You ready to make a few quid off ‘em now?’
Ger’s old gang followed Anto’s lead. With the exception of Liam, the youngest, they were avoiding school more and more. Sometimes Ger caught a glimpse of them out of a classroom window as they ran by on some mischief. They seemed as free as grown-ups.
It would be easy to join them. His mother probably wouldn’t know, or say anything even if she did. Her sons could always get around her, even when she was sober. Donal had dropped out of school long ago.
But the people at the stables all expected Ger to finish his education. It was something they took for granted. They assumed he’d get his leaving cert some day, then become a responsible young man and … and …
Ger’s imagination wouldn’t stretch that far.
He filled his notebook with sketches of Star Dancer. And then he began sketching barns and stables.
One Saturday morning Suzanne found him in the tackroom, studying the construction of saddle racks with interest. ‘Ger!’ she cried excitedly. ‘There’s a new horse coming in today, a grey gelding. Anne thinks he might make an event horse for me. We’ll be trying him out this afternoon, will you watch?’
‘Yeah, of course.’ But Ger felt his heart sink. That meant the decision was made. Star Dancer would go. He looked at the saddle racks again, with different eyes. Assessing their burdens.
The grey gelding was a sturdy horse with solid leg bones that looked as if they could jump a lot of fences without ever causing problems. He wasn’t as elegant as Star Dancer, however, and Ger hated him on sight. This was the horse that would send Dancer out of his life.
‘What’s his name?’ Suzanne asked Anne Fitzpatrick.
‘Summer Rain.’
‘Oh what a gorgeous name!’ Suzanne stroked the grey horse’s nose just the way she always did Dancer’s.
Watching, Ger was jealous for Dancer’s sake.
‘He doesn’t know a lot about dressage yet,’ Anne explained, ‘but he moves forward well and he has good paces. In time he can be as good as Star Dancer. And he loves to jump, that’s the important thing. He’s very willing and obedient over fences.’
When Suzanne finished riding Summer Rain her face was glowing the way it used to after a good ride on Star Dancer. Ger knew then.
He had no more time.
Next day, he didn’t go to school. He found Anto with a couple of older lads outside the pool hall on the main street.
‘I need to talk to you,’ Ger said in a low voice to Anto.
‘So? Anything you want to say to me you can say to these fellas.’
But Ger shook his head. ‘I need to talk to you alone,’ he insisted.
Anto winked at the older boys. ‘I got a bit of business,’ he boasted.
He and Ger walked a little distance away. ‘What’s the story, Ger?’ he asked.
‘Those saddles at the stables where I work. Did you mean what you said? Do you know someone who could sell them? And would I get a lot of money?’
Anto’s face tightened. ‘What d’you mean, a lot of money?’
‘Two thousand pounds.’
Anto gave a harsh laugh. ‘Are you serious?’
‘I am serious. I have to have two thousand pounds.’
The older boy shook his head. ‘Twenty quid maybe, your share might be that, but …’
‘Twenty!’ Ger was shocked. ‘I make that working at the stables now! I told you, I need two thousand.’
‘Don’t be so thick, Ger. Are you mad or what?’
Ger swallowed hard. In his dreams, this had seemed simple. But the real world wasn’t a dream, he was discovering. ‘If your friends took ten saddles and sold them for two hundred each,’ he began.
Anto interrupted him. ‘Then I’d get a couple of quid for each one and I’d give you half for helping. But most of the money’d go to the lads who did the job. They’d have a van or car or something and they’d take the risk, see. And do the selling.’
‘You said big money.’
‘I call twenty quid big money!’
Shoulders slumping with disappointment, Ger turned away. He felt as if he’d just fallen off a horse and hit the ground with a solid crash.
Anto caught hold of his arm. ‘Hey, Ger, if you want to do this, I’ll set it up,’ he said eagerly. ‘Maybe we can get you a bit more cash you know? I’ll ask my old fella.’
Ger glanced at Anto. For the first time, he noticed something hard and desperate … and frightened … in the other boy’s eyes. Something trapped and hungry.
I don’t want to look like that, Ger thought with a shudder.
‘Forget it,’ he said aloud.
‘But what about that money you need? I know people, we could …’
‘Forget it!’ Ger shouted.
Ger felt a tide of hate rise in him. He hated Anto and he hated being poor and he hated himself for what he had almost done. He began to run as hard as he could, running anywhere, as long as it was away.
He ran and ran. At first Anto ran after him, but he soon gave up the chase. Ger ran on until he could hear nothing but the sound of his own two feet pounding the pavement and the blood pounding in his ears.
He ran until a stitch in his side forced him to stop and bend over in pain. He was panting for breath. He had come a long way from Morton’s Court.
When the pain eased and he straightened up, he knew where he was. Across the busy road, he could see the RDS.
16 – The Sale
SUZANNE O’GORMAN WAS PICKING AT HER FOOD AGAIN. Her parents exchanged worried glances across the table.
‘Do you not like your dinner?’ her mother asked. ‘It’s your favourite, fish fingers.’
‘I do like it,’ said Suzanne. With her fork, she arranged the little golden sticks of fish into something resembling a log obstacle on a cross-country course. But she didn’t eat them. She just gazed down at them.
‘Did you like that grey horse Anne Fitzpatrick brought you to try?’ her father asked. Then, smiling at his wife, he added, ‘Anne says he’s safe as houses.’
‘Summer Rain? He’s nice.’ Suzanne pushed the fish fingers into a different arrangement.
Her father went on, ‘And Brendan Walsh says he knows a man down in Tramore who might be interested in Star Dancer for his wife. She wants to learn dressage.’
Now Suzanne looked up. ‘I don’t want to sell Dancer,’ she said. Her voice was bleak and flat.
‘But what about the grey horse?’
Suzanne dropped her eyes. Her mother saw the first tear slide down the girl’s cheek and drop onto the golden crust of a fish finger.
‘Oh Suzanne, pet,’ said Mrs O’Gorman. ‘This is too big a decision for you to have to make.’
‘It isn’t too big
a decision. And I’ve made it. I want to keep Dancer. If we sold him to some man in Tramore I’d probably never see him again. And neither would Ger. Ger loves him too. I don’t want anyone else to have Dancer. He’s mine!’
Mrs O’Gorman stood up and began clearing the table. She was frowning in thought. Then she said to her husband, ‘Come on inside and help me get the pudding ready. We need to talk.’ She shot him a meaningful glance over Suzanne’s head.
When Ger next arrived for work at the stables, he went to the pasture to see Dancer even before checking in with Brendan Walsh. He was relieved to find Dancer still there, with the other horses, in the big grassy field.
But Summer Rain was still in the stables, in the loose box that had belonged to Dancer.
Ger stuck out his tongue at the grey horse. Then he was sorry, and took him a carrot. ‘It’s not your fault,’ he told him.
The days were growing shorter, the dark was closing in. Often Ger walked to and from the bus in the rain. Anne began giving the riding lessons in the indoor school. Taking his lesson with other children, and grown-ups as well, Ger felt as if Morton’s Court was very far away. Here he was with people who liked him and trusted him, who cared about horses. He loved the smell of the dampened sawdust and the golden glow of the overhead lights. ‘You’re doing great,’ someone would tell him in passing, commenting on his improvement, and the warm feeling it gave him could make him almost forget his troubles…almost.
Suzanne was taking lessons on Summer Rain. ‘Is your family going to buy him?’ Ger asked, though he really didn’t want to hear the answer.
‘I begged my parents not to sell Dancer,’ Suzanne replied. ‘Now Mr Flannery’s bought Summer Rain, for re-sale, as an investment. I still wish we could buy him, but not if it means losing Dancer.’
Buying and selling horses was one of the ways the stables made money for its owner, Ger knew. Mr Flannery would sell the grey horse on at a profit, if not to the O’Gormans, then to someone else.
The next time Ger went to the pasture to visit Dancer he was surprised to find Mr Flannery at the pasture gate with Anne Fitzpatrick. He heard only the end of their conversation: ‘And get Dancer out of the pasture,’ Mr Flannery was saying.
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