The Silver Pony

by Holly Webb

  “Oh, so that’s where Betsy is, I should’ve known,” Mum said. “That’s pretty, Daisy.”

  “It’s for Mara.” Daisy held it up and Mum stroked the fine silk threads.

  “It’s lovely.” She paused, watching Chloe searching grumpily for her pyjamas. “Have you called her today?”

  Daisy shook her head. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

  Mum was silent for a moment and then she just nodded, as though she wanted to say something, but couldn’t work out how. “OK. Well, give her my love.” She turned to shoo Chloe towards the bathroom.

  “Yeah.” Daisy stared down at the bracelet, fighting not to cry.

  Daisy made herself call Mara the next day. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to her, of course she did. But she wanted her friend to sound the same as before – so funny and determined – and she knew Mara wouldn’t.

  “So Miss Fondu said we should leave Kacie there. All the way through the literacy lesson. She didn’t wake up until lunch.” She paused for a moment, hoping Mara would laugh. Or even just smile – Daisy was sure she could tell when someone was smiling down the phone. But there was only silence on the other end.

  “Um, are you still there?” she asked, hesitating.

  “Yeah…” A faint, soft murmur.

  “Good… Anyway, I was surprised Miss Fondu let her stay asleep – she’s usually so strict. But it is nearly the last week of term, I suppose.” Then she caught her breath. Mum had warned her not to say anything that might make Mara feel bad about missing school, or remind her how long she’d been away. But the only thing Daisy had to talk about was school. How was she supposed to not mention it? “Sorry,” she muttered, but Mara didn’t say anything. Daisy wasn’t even sure if she was listening.

  “Has … has anything happened with you…?” she asked. Mara had a teacher who came round to her in the hospital. She’d said he was nicer than Miss Fondu. She’d been given books from the hospital school, but she wasn’t well enough to actually go to it. “I guess not…” she muttered. It had been a bit of a stupid question. But Daisy couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “Oh! Did you know there’s a tree not far from our house that’s actually two trees stuck together?” she said quickly. “My dad showed me the other day when we were walking Betsy. It’s an oak and … a beech tree, I think? And they’ve grown together into one tree. Isn’t that weird? Have you seen it?”

  “I think so,” Mara mumbled, and Daisy held back a sigh. Mara didn’t seem to be interested in anything she was saying.

  “Um. Have you watched any more films?”

  “No… Been really tired.”

  “Oh… So … shall I go then? I can call you again tomorrow? Or in a couple of days?”

  She was almost sure she could feel Mara’s relief – Mara wanted her gone. She knew it was only because Mara was so tired, but it still felt horrible. Daisy didn’t know what to say. “OK. Um. Bye.” She ended the call and sat staring at the phone, warm in her hand. What had just happened? She’d had calls with Mara before where it was hard to find stuff to talk about, but never anything like that.

  “Oh, you’ve finished!” Chloe erupted into the room and danced up and down in front of her. “Come and play UNO! Mum said I had to wait until you weren’t on the phone, but you aren’t now so you have to play with me.”

  “Leave me alone, Chloe!” Daisy snapped. She couldn’t cope with her little sister bouncing around right now.

  “You have to! Mum said!”

  “No!” Daisy yelled. She knew she was going to get into trouble, but she was past caring. “Go away! Stop being such a pain!” She watched Chloe’s face crumple – she could almost see the wail building up inside her.

  “Mu-u-um!” Chloe disappeared, stumbling down the stairs in noisy tears, and Daisy slumped on her bed. Why was it her fault? Why should she always have to play with Chloe? Couldn’t Oscar, or Dad or Mum?

  She counted in her head, wondering how long it would take for Mum to appear in her room. About fifty seconds as it turned out.

  “What was that all about?” Mum asked. Her voice was mild but Daisy could tell she was annoyed.

  “She said I had to play with her…” Daisy muttered. “I just didn’t want to. Why do I always have to?”

  “Because she’s your sister!”

  “So?”

  “Daisy!” Mum glared at her, and then sighed and sat down on the bed. “What happened? You were talking to Mara, weren’t you? Has she – has she had bad news?”

  Daisy stared at Mum, her eyes widening. “No… What do you mean? What sort of bad news? Has Mara’s mum said something to you?”

  Mum put her arm round Daisy and squeezed her. “No, it’s OK. I haven’t heard anything. I just wondered if that’s why you were upset.”

  “I’m not upset,” Daisy growled, but it wasn’t worth pretending. Mum didn’t say anything, and after a while Daisy whispered, “I didn’t know what to say to her. It doesn’t feel the same, talking to her.”

  Mum hugged her tighter. “It’s bound to be difficult, love. And I’m sure Mara appreciates you calling, even if it doesn’t sound like it. Perhaps she’s had a bad night. She really needs you, you know.”

  But what about me? Daisy wanted to shout. What about what I need? I don’t have my best friend any more and I hate it!

  She couldn’t say it out loud though. Not without Mum thinking she was a selfish monster. Because she was a selfish monster, thinking like that when Mara was so ill.

  “Look, I’ll take care of Chloe,” Mum whispered into Daisy’s hair. “Keep her occupied. Maybe she can play outside with your dad, or I’ll fill up the paddling pool. Do you want to stay up here? Or go out? It’s still hot but not nearly as bad as yesterday. You could take Betsy for a walk.”

  “Yeah.” Daisy nodded, rubbing her cheek against Mum’s arm. “Good idea.” Just her and Betsy, walking through the forest. She could try not to imagine Mara dashing along in front.

  Mum gave her one last squeeze and stood up, and Daisy followed her wearily. She ached but she didn’t know why. She followed Mum downstairs and ignored Chloe scowling at her.

  Betsy bustled out from the kitchen looking hopeful when she heard Daisy take her lead off its hook.

  “Don’t go far,” Dad said, following her to the door. “Take some water, for both of you.”

  Daisy nodded and held up her backpack. “I’ve got water in here.”

  “And your phone? Have you got battery?”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “I want to go with Daisy!” Chloe moaned.

  “You’re going to help me cut the grass!” Dad said, putting on a hurt face. “I need you!”

  Chloe eyed him suspiciously but Daisy knew she loved throwing the cut grass around. She gave in after a few seconds and Daisy let herself out of the front door, with Betsy already tugging excitedly at her lead.

  “Slow down,” she told the dachshund as Betsy raced along the pavement. “You’re not getting in a state like you did yesterday. This is a slow walk. More of a sit.”

  The problem was that even if Daisy walked slowly, Betsy didn’t. Daisy didn’t ever let her off the lead, because Betsy’s recall was useless. As far as she was concerned, if she spotted something interesting, like another dog or some litter to eat, why would she want to come back? Dad had taken her to dog-training but they’d never exactly been the stars of the class. So they’d got Betsy a long lead instead and she made the most of it. She would do her funny bouncing run backwards and forwards at the length of the lead, going about three times the distance Daisy walked. It was hard to stop her wearing herself out.

  “You’re supposed to be taking it easy,” Daisy sighed as Betsy wandered off to sniff at some foxgloves. “If you get overheated again you’ll be sorry!” Then she stopped, pulling at Betsy’s lead. “Hey, Betsy, wait… Look…”

  They were walking along the wide path leading out through the trees to the heathland, not far from the house. Daisy still thought
it was strange, going from her house on a paved street in the village to the wild heath in only minutes. The heather was coming out now and the patch of heath beyond the trees was covered in clumps of pinky-purple flowers, stretching away for what looked like miles. Tiny footpaths wove in and out of the heather, and Betsy loved to shoot along them in great bouncing leaps.

  But it was a whitish patch under the trees close by that had caught Daisy’s eye. It had taken a moment or two to work out what it was, for her eyes to understand what she was seeing – a white pony, nibbling at the lower branches of a holly tree. Now she was really looking, Daisy saw there were more of them. A chestnut pony, over on the other side of the holly – and another smaller chestnut cropping a patch of grass. The smaller one didn’t look like a normal chestnut though, with its long pale mane. Mara would know what that was called.

  Usually Daisy would have admired the ponies – from a safe distance – and then walked on, but this time she stayed. They’d made her think of Mara. Now she’d have something to tell her about in their next phone call. She could ask Mara what a chestnut pony with a pretty blond mane was called.

  “Shh,” she murmured to Betsy. “Let’s sit here for a bit, OK?” She crouched down by the foxgloves, stroking Betsy’s head to calm her. “Good dog.” Slowly, Daisy sat cross-legged on the short, worn turf, peering carefully through the tall pink flowers at the ponies.

  Betsy sat and panted beside her. She’d noticed the ponies too, Daisy could see her watching them, but the dachshund didn’t seem to be very bothered. She’d seen ponies before and she never tried to chase them, or say hello, like she did with other dogs. It was as if she thought they were too big to be interesting.

  It was very soothing, listening to Betsy huffing away and watching the ponies. She could hear someone calling too, a little way off, and the faint buzz of cars on the road that ran past her house. Every so often there was a little thud as one of the ponies moved a step, or a creaking noise as they pulled at a stubborn bit of holly. At last the two chestnut ponies shook themselves and moved on, stopping here and there to nibble a good patch of grass, and gradually disappearing out on to the heath among the heather.

  The white pony… Except it was called a grey, Daisy remembered now. She’d argued with Mara about that because they weren’t grey, they were white. This one was so pale that she looked almost silvery – she seemed to glow. The white pony stayed by the holly, gradually moving round to eat the young shoots. Dad had explained to her when they first moved here that New Forest ponies ate all sorts of things that normal ponies might not – holly and prickly gorse. They had specially adapted mouths, with thicker lips so they could manage the spiky plants. The trees here had trunks that were bare all the way up to where the ponies could reach.

  Beside her, Betsy yawned loudly and the white pony slowly turned to look at them. Daisy was sure she’d already known that they were there but the ponies were used to people being around in the forest. This one had probably been photographed hundreds of times – she was so pretty, with her dark eyes and the messy fringe hanging over her nose. Daisy smiled to herself. Fringe wasn’t right. Mara would be jumping up and down telling her it was a forelock. Or something like that. But it looked like a fringe, a fair, tangled one. Actually, just like Mara’s. She was trying to grow it out and she was always pushing it out of her eyes.

  Daisy swallowed. She wasn’t now. Mara had told Daisy about a month ago that her hair was falling out because of the treatment she was having. All that time trying to get rid of her fringe wasted. She’d been so cross about it.

  The pony had dark grey ears and a few darker spots dappling her chest. Daisy didn’t think she’d seen any others like that. Slowly, carefully, she reached into her shorts pocket for her phone to take a photo. She didn’t have to say anything to Mara about the fringe – she could just tell her she’d seen this pretty pony.

  The pony didn’t seem bothered by the click of the camera. She wandered away from the holly sapling and started to graze, slowly nibbling at the grass. But every so often, she lifted her head to look back at them.

  The pony was just keeping an eye on Betsy, Daisy told herself. She wanted to make sure that Betsy wasn’t going to dash at her and start yapping. Still, it did feel like the pony was checking on Daisy too. As if she knew something wasn’t quite right, that Daisy was unhappy. Her dark eyes were so gentle when she looked over her shoulder like that. She seemed to be making sure Daisy was OK.

  Daisy found herself smiling. It was silly – but she was going to carry on thinking it anyway.

  “You’re going out again?” Dad asked the next afternoon, looking surprised. “You took Betsy for a long walk this morning!”

  “She always likes more walks,” Daisy pointed out. Dad usually took Betsy for a quick walk before he went to work, and Daisy tried to fit in one after school, but at weekends and in the holidays, Betsy got lots of extras. “I want to find some ponies too. I need to send some photos to Mara.”

  She twisted her fingers behind her back – it was true but it wasn’t quite the whole truth. She wanted to see if she could find that white pony again. There was something about her – something that had made Daisy feel so much better the day before. She hadn’t sent the photo to Mara yet, though. She’d been about to send the email but then she’d deleted it. That strange connection with the white pony felt like her secret.

  “OK…” Dad looked thoughtful. “Lucky Betsy. Don’t let her get too close to any ponies, will you? I’m not sure I trust her to be sensible. You know she thinks she’s loads bigger than she is.”

  “I’m not going near them either,” Daisy promised. “I just want to take pictures.”

  And watch. And hope for that same feeling I got yesterday.

  How far did the ponies walk in a day? Daisy wasn’t sure. Although the New Forest ponies did have owners, they were almost wild. They didn’t have fields or a stable to go back to at night – they could wander wherever they wanted to go. There were some favourite places, where you could almost always see them, like the middle of Burley village where they always looked like they wanted the visitors’ picnics. But you couldn’t really count on them being around, just like any other wild creature. The white pony had been close to the house yesterday but that didn’t mean she would be again.

  “Maybe she likes it in this bit of the forest,” she suggested hopefully to Betsy as they headed along the path. “They looked happy, didn’t they?” She sighed. “I wish I could put down treats for her. I mean, she’d probably like an apple, or a carrot but Mum and Dad said we mustn’t ever feed them because they’re wild.”

  No one was supposed to feed the ponies, in case people decided to start feeding them things that were bad for them, like crisps or chocolate. And it would make them want to come closer to busy places, where they were more likely to get hit by a car. Daisy knew that made sense but it did seem sad. She loved the thought of that white pony lipping an apple out of her hand.

  She giggled to herself. She’d never wanted one of them to come that close to her before. Ponies were big – and so were their teeth… On second thoughts, she still wasn’t sure she really did want the white pony that close.

  Betsy wasn’t listening to Daisy chattering on about ponies. She was enjoying her second walk of the day, sniffing at the bracken.

  Daisy tugged gently on the lead and walked on down the ride, the wide beaten earth path through the trees. She was holding Betsy on a loose lead, looking around for ponies. It was odd how hard it was to see them, sometimes. They weren’t camouflaged – certainly not the greys. They stood out against the dry grass and yellow-green bracken like beacons. But they were mostly so still, gently grazing in the quiet patches. Daisy was sure she’d walked past hundreds of ponies and never known they were there.

  “Where are you?” she said sadly. The white pony could be miles and miles away by now.

  A faint rustling among the trees made Daisy spin round, hoping to see the pony’s white face peering out
from behind a tree trunk – but instead a small herd of fallow deer stared back at her. They looked a bit surprised, their heads held up as if they were about to dash away any second.

  “Sorry,” Daisy whispered, taking a tighter grip on Betsy’s lead. She’d never seen deer so close and neither had Betsy. The deer were usually shyer than the ponies and their dappled-brown coats meant they melted into the landscape. She was lucky to see them – usually she’d have been really excited.

  Betsy was wagging her tail wildly and her ears had lifted – they’d have been pricked up if they weren’t so long and floppy.

  “You can’t chase them,” Daisy told her sternly, and the deer caught the sound of her voice and twitched. As one, they turned and stepped hurriedly away through the trees.

  “Oh… I didn’t mean to scare them off!” Daisy sighed. “And we still haven’t seen a single pony. I didn’t see any this morning, either.” She checked the time on her phone. “We should head back, Betsy-dog. Dad’ll be worrying about us.”

  “Last week at school,” Mum said encouragingly the next morning. “It’s going to be hot again. I put your water bottles in the freezer last night.”

  Daisy nodded. The mum of one of Oscar’s friends had suggested that when they were walking home on Friday. Maybe she could put the icy bottle on her table at school and hug it while she was trying to listen to Miss Fondu.

  “And there’s loads of fruit in your lunches,” Mum added, looking at Oscar worriedly. He didn’t sleep well in the heat and he looked like he was about to faceplant into his cereal. “Finish it up, Oscar. We need to get going.”

  Even opening the front door felt like being hit with a wall of heat and they straggled limply out on to the pavement. It wasn’t a long walk to school, luckily, just ten minutes to the other end of the village, past the shops.