Spud & Charli

by Samantha Wheeler

  I reached out to scratch him between the ears. My hand hadn’t even got close when he snorted hot air into my face. I jumped back. ‘Hey!’ I shouted. ‘What was that?’

  Spud shook his mane and turned to face the front, as if nothing had happened. I frowned. Was that his idea of a joke? I gripped the currycomb and started brushing. I began with his shoulders, then his long front legs, and then along his thick, muscular back. Spud didn’t even look like moving, let alone kicking me. Or biting at my ear, like I’d seen other horses do. He leant towards me, his lips hanging loose as I brushed under his warm belly.

  I hadn’t realised horses could be so funny. Spud might have been tall, but he was a big softy when it came to having a brush. After a while, I found myself scratching at his withers and stroking his silky neck. If I stopped, he turned his face and pushed my cheek with his nose. The fourth time he did it, I leant forwards and gently kissed his muzzle.

  After brushing, we learnt how to plait manes, blacken hooves, trim tails, and tidy excess ear hair. Spud was perfect the whole time, apart from two or three snorts, but I soon learnt how to dodge them, and he gave up after a while.

  When we were done, we lined up so Mrs Bacton could inspect our work.

  ‘Tail’s still knotty,’ she said to one of the pink twins.

  ‘Nice plaits. Good work.’ Alice, the girl who’d asked about the jumping, turned pink with pride.

  ‘Mmm, bit grubby,’ said Mrs Bacton, showing me the dirt on the palm of her hand.

  I was about to complain that I wasn’t tall enough to reach the top of Spud’s wide back, but Mrs Bacton had moved along to Mikaela and was picking up Razz’s hooves.

  ‘Lovely,’ she said. ‘Nice and clean.’

  It was all right for Mikaela. The palomino didn’t have feet the size of dinner plates.

  Spud must have been bored watching the inspection, because he turned to nip at Joey’s cheek. Joey, who had been standing quietly beside us, flicked his ears back and threw his head in the air.

  Alice squealed.

  ‘Sorry,’ I mumbled, pulling Spud away.

  ‘It’s okay. He’s just so tall,’ she said. ‘You must be a pretty good rider?’

  ‘Actually, no, this is my first time,’ I said, tugging Spud as he reached for Joey again.

  ‘No way! You look like you’ve been around horses forever.’

  I stood a little straighter. ‘I do?’

  ‘Yeah, you’re brilliant. You sure you haven’t ridden before?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Wow.’ Alice was holding Joey like he was a bomb about to explode – funny, because he looked so cute and little next to Spud.

  ‘Can you ride?’ I asked.

  ‘Who me? Sort of. I fell off once over a jump, but my mum’s from England, and since everyone in England knows how to ride, she won’t let me give up. This is, like, the third riding place we’ve tried, and I freak out every time I even look at a jump …’

  ‘Did you get hurt?’

  ‘Huh? Oh, like when I fell off? Yeah, I broke my collarbone.’

  I’d researched broken collarbones when Matt fell off our trampoline. A person could either have a simple break and wear a sling, or they could have a crooked break, which meant they’d need an operation.

  ‘So, did you need surgery?’ I asked.

  Alice started telling me how she only had to wear a sling, which was interesting because that was the same as Matt, but Mrs Bacton called out, ‘Lunch!’ and we saved the rest for later.

  After lunch, Mrs Bacton showed us how to saddle up. We each slipped on a white helmet from the tack shed and waited beside our horse for further instructions. All except Mikaela. She’d brought her own sporty black helmet to match her long black boots, and before Mrs Bacton had even got to her, she saddled Razz and hopped straight on his back. She did look like the most experienced rider, and she had definitely scored the prettiest horse.

  ‘How long have you been riding?’ a fly-spray girl asked her.

  ‘Since forever,’ she said, patting Razz and tossing her long blonde hair.

  Obviously. That’s why she’d got Razz, not an ex-racehorse like Spud.

  I threw her a snaky look. She was definitely the one to beat at the gymkhana.

  ‘So, for our riding lesson today, girls, I’m going to divide you into two groups,’ said Mrs Bacton. ‘Beginners over here with me, and experienced riders over there. With Mikaela.’

  Mikaela puffed out her chest as Mrs Bacton motioned towards her. The pink twins moved over and, once they were mounted, Mikaela led them around the outside track of the arena, where sawdust flicked in pale puffs behind their horses’ feet. They rode in an orderly straight line, all balanced and neat, their hands and feet hardly moving.

  Alice, me, and the fly-spray girls stood with Mrs Bacton. My heart thumped. Spud seemed even taller with his saddle on. How would I balance, way up there? What if he threw me off the minute I plopped on his back?

  ‘Okay, girls, let’s mount up.’

  My feet wouldn’t move. I could break my collarbone – or worse.

  ‘You all right?’ asked Mrs Bacton.

  I heard Mikaela twitch her crop against her boots.

  I sucked in a breath. ‘Yep, just checking my stirrups.’ I quickly pulled a stirrup leather under my arm. The hard iron was cool through my T-shirt. ‘Good, just right,’ I said. Like they’d been the last ten times I’d checked.

  Spud turned his head, as if to see what was taking me so long. He blinked as he shifted his weight, and flicked away flies with his tail.

  ‘It’s not my fault you’re a giant,’ I whispered.

  ‘Here, give us a look at your girth.’ Mrs Bacton came over and checked the strap under Spud’s belly. Once it was tight, she gave his neck a friendly pat. ‘There you are,’ she said. ‘Good as gold. Right to hop on?’

  Hop on? Spud was a Himalayan mountain.

  She bent down and clasped her hands together to make a step by Spud’s side. ‘Put your foot in here,’ she instructed. ‘And hold the saddle with your right hand and his mane with your left.’

  Right, left? Where? Which foot was I supposed to use?

  ‘Come on, you can do it. Spud’s not going anywhere.’

  I took a deep breath and held on to Spud’s mane. I put my left foot in Mrs Bacton’s hands, and … one, two, three, I hauled myself up. Fumbling for the stirrups, I stuck my feet in where they belonged and sat up straight, feeling the strange leather of the saddle beneath me. It was different to what I expected. Wider. Higher. The saddle leather squeaked as I leant forwards to take up Spud’s reins.

  ‘Well done!’ Mrs Bacton reached for my foot to straighten it in the stirrup. ‘Ready?’

  And so our first lesson began. The other beginners and I rode around and around a small yard within the arena, and I almost forgot to breathe, I was concentrating so hard. Legs down, hands still, bottom deep in the saddle. Sit upright or tip off. Spud didn’t seem to care that I bumped and wriggled and jiggled all over his back, and I only stayed on because he was as wide as a table. He didn’t go fast. He didn’t go slow. He simply fell into step with the other horses and didn’t miss a beat.

  When I occasionally remembered to look up, I caught a glimpse of the experienced riders going around the outside track of the arena. Mikaela was definitely the best. Her legs didn’t flap around, and her hands sat neat and still. If only I could ride like that.

  By the end of the afternoon, my legs ached and I’d grown fat blisters on my thumbs and fingers from gripping the reins. My head was a whirl of instructions, but I wore a huge grin on my face. I’d finally learnt how to ride.

  Wait till I told Matt and Gus back home!

  4. Bats

  ‘Over here,’ called Mrs Bacton after she’d helped us dismount and shown us how to untack our horses. ‘We’ll wash them
down before we feed them and turn them out for the night. This way.’

  The experienced riders were already at the wash bay when we got there and, once Mrs Bacton had shown us beginners what to do, Spud and I fell in the line at the back. Alice and Joey waited in front of us while the dipping sun turned the clouds coral pink.

  ‘Were you scared?’ asked Alice, keeping a firm grip on Joey.

  ‘No,’ I lied. ‘Were you?’

  ‘Yeah, a bit. Didn’t you see me drop the reins?’

  She had, and lost her stirrups. A thousand times. But I didn’t let on I’d noticed. ‘Nah, you were good,’ I said.

  ‘Not as good as you. You could win the gymkhana for sure.’

  I smiled. ‘Thanks!’ But I didn’t really believe it. For one, riding was harder than I thought. All those things to think about, all at once. And then there was Mikaela. I’d have to be superhuman to beat someone as good as her.

  By the time it was Alice’s turn at the wash bay, everyone else had tied up their horses over at the yards and disappeared into the feed shed. Alice held the hose to wash off Joey’s back and got more water on herself than on Joey.

  ‘It’s cold!’ she gasped.

  I laughed. ‘Not as cold as England.’

  ‘You try, then,’ she said, passing me the hose. ‘But I reckon you’ll need a ladder.’

  I aimed the hose at Spud, who smelt worse than Dad after the gym, and just as I did, a dark shape flitted overhead. And then another. I stared up into the sky, the hose hanging limply from my hand. Water trickled wasted down the drain.

  ‘Are they crows?’ whispered Alice.

  I looked more closely. The black shapes held their wings out taut, like hang-gliders but with curves ending in points at the tips. They slid through the air like …

  Goosebumps rose on my arms.

  ‘They’re not crows,’ I said. ‘They’re bats!’

  Hundreds of bats. Hundreds and hundreds of bats. What if one swooped down and bit me?

  I turned off the tap. Spud looked forlorn with water dripping down his face. ‘Hurry!’ I shouted, snatching up his lead rope.

  ‘Where’re we going?’ Alice puffed as she ran after me with Joey.

  ‘Don’t know. Anywhere. Away from the bats.’

  We tugged the horses towards the stables, and nearly ran smack into Mikaela as she rounded the feed shed. She held a bucket in one hand and a mobile phone in the other, and we dodged her just in time.

  ‘Hey, watch it!’ she snapped, pushing the phone into her pocket. ‘You’re supposed to tie your horse over there.’ She pointed to the railings where the other horses stood waiting. ‘You can’t take them in here, dumbos.’

  ‘We weren’t,’ I said, glancing past her into the feed shed. The others were chatting and laughing and filling up feed buckets. Why weren’t they worried about the bats?

  Mikaela’s blue eyes narrowed. ‘Okay, yeah right. So, anyway, what’s it like riding an aardvark?’ she said.

  ‘Spud’s not an aardvark,’ I protested. ‘Aardvarks live in Africa. In burrows.’

  ‘Whatever. Either way, he’s ugly. I hope you weren’t planning on winning the gymkhana on him?’

  I opened my mouth but quickly shut it again. How did she know I wanted to win the gymkhana?

  She smiled without showing her teeth. ‘Fat chance,’ she muttered before swinging her long hair behind her and marching off towards the horses.

  Alice’s bottom lip wobbled. ‘What are we going to do?’ she whispered. ‘Do you think it’s safe over there, you know, with the bats?’

  ‘I don’t know. We need to talk to Mrs Bacton.’

  But when we couldn’t find Mrs Bacton, we had to tie Spud and Joey up at the rails beside the others. I tried not to look at the bats flitting about in the sky.

  We made up two buckets of pellets and watched Spud and Joey flick their tails and stamp and snort as they gobbled up their dinner. Spud was especially good at gobbling.

  ‘I used to be scared of everything,’ said Alice while we waited. ‘But now I’m just petrified of jumping.’ She pushed her fringe from her eyes. ‘Oh … and spiders.’

  I already knew about the spiders.

  ‘And that girl?’ she said, pointing to another girl from her room. ‘She’s scared of jellyfish.’

  There was a shout and everyone joined in to shoo a greedy horse back to its own bucket.

  ‘Jellyfish? Weird.’

  ‘It’s true.’ Alice waved her arms around like an octopus, which made me laugh. ‘What about you?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘What are you scared of?’

  Up until then, I’d been trying to ignore the bats as they circled menacingly above us.

  Alice must have noticed my gaze. ‘Yeah, I know,’ she said. ‘They’re disgusting, right? Mrs Bacton should’ve told us about them before we booked.’

  By now, the horses had finished eating, so we stacked up their buckets before leading them out into the paddock for the night. As soon as they’d galloped away, Alice and I raced to the safety of the bunkhouse.

  ‘Not just disgusting,’ I told her on the way to the showers. ‘Bats are dangerous.’

  ‘What do you mean – dangerous?’

  ‘They scratch and bite.’

  ‘What, so they’re, like, vampire bats or something?’

  ‘No, I don’t mean that. Bats carry deadly viruses. Haven’t you heard about Hendra virus? Horses have died from it. That’s why Mrs Bacton said, “Absolutely no touching.”’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yep. We have to ask her why they’re still here.’

  Mrs Bacton was busy at dinner, and then, once she’d set up a movie in the common room, she left, saying, ‘Lights out at ten.’

  ‘We’ll talk to her tomorrow,’ I told Alice. ‘There’ll be more time tomorrow.’

  After the movie, I crawled up onto my bunk and lay staring at the ceiling. Why were there so many bats? What would happen if a horse did get bitten or scratched? Would it get a rash or a high temperature before it died? Or maybe it’d just die?

  It was no good asking Mikaela. She lay on her bed, playing with her phone. I wished I’d asked Alice to share our room. It’d be worth inhaling a truckload of insect spray to have someone to talk to.

  The lights turned off at exactly ten o’clock. I wriggled inside my sleeping bag and began to close my eyes.

  A shriek outside the window made me jump.

  ‘What was that?’

  Silence from the opposite bunk.

  Another shriek cut through the dark.

  ‘Did you hear that noise?’

  ‘Go to sleep,’ came the muffled reply. ‘It’s probably just possums.’

  Another shriek, and then a loud chattering noise.

  I sat up, clutching my pillow. A thousand possums, more like.

  Torchlight swung in from the hallway.

  ‘Charli?’ said a trembling voice.

  I squinted into the light. ‘Alice?’

  Mikaela tossed in her sleeping bag. ‘Can’t a person get any sleep around here?’ she huffed.

  As if anyone could sleep with World War Three erupting outside.

  ‘I’m coming,’ I whispered, wriggling out of my bunk and padding barefoot across the room. ‘Follow me.’

  I crept down the hallway, Alice close behind. Flicking on the bathroom light, I motioned her inside. The screeching and squawking didn’t seem so bad when we were surrounded by fluoros. Still, my heart was thudding and Alice’s eyes were wide.

  ‘What is it?’ she whispered.

  ‘Bats.’

  ‘What are they doing?’ she asked, glancing out the darkened window. ‘Are they having a massive fight?’

  I slid down the wall and sat on the floor between two of the sinks. Alice joined me, clutchi
ng her torch like a laser sword.

  ‘Did you know,’ I said, ‘that if the bats give just one of Mrs Bacton’s horses Hendra virus, they’ll have to destroy all her other horses? Every single one?’

  Alice gasped. ‘What, like, totally kill them? No way!’

  ‘Yep. To make sure the disease doesn’t spread.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Unless she’s vaccinated them.’

  ‘But maybe she doesn’t know about that … what’s it called … virus. I mean, wouldn’t she have got rid of the bats by now if they kill horses?’

  ‘Exactly! That’s why I’m going to talk to her, first thing tomorrow morning.’

  5. Mr Shearer

  I woke early the next morning, determined to ask Mrs Bacton about the bats. I slipped out of bed and pulled on my jodhpurs, a fresh T-shirt, and my too-big borrowed boots. I had to know if she’d vaccinated her horses.

  I snuck from our room and crept over to the main house. A dry wind scuttled dead leaves over the path while three late-to-bed bats cruised the skies above me. I forced myself to ignore them. They couldn’t hurt me from way up there. Could they?

  Over near the house, I slowed my step. A sleek black car sat parked in the driveway, and voices floated over on the breeze. I slunk closer and ducked in behind the old mango tree. Fat plops of shiny black bat poo stained the ground. I held my breath and crouched behind the tree.

  Mrs Bacton was sitting on the verandah steps with a steaming mug cradled in her hands, her Akubra on her head. A wind charm of silver cutlery swayed and tinkled above her in the breeze.

  When I edged around the side of the mango tree, my breath caught in my throat. Mrs Bacton was talking to the creepiest man I’d ever seen. And it wasn’t because he was in a wheelchair. I’d seen plenty of people in wheelchairs before. This man was so tall he practically spilled out of his. Patchy red blotches covered his pale face, like he’d had a fight with a raspberry Slurpee and lost. His right ear was a dark, ugly hole in the side of his head – no lobe, no nothing. He fiddled with a thin clear tube running from under his nostrils to a small black bottle attached to the back of his wheelchair. Each time he did, the gold ring on his fat pinkie finger blinked in the sun – a ring the shape of a horseshoe.