by Amanda Wills
Her stepmother’s face was still ashen as the paramedics accompanied her to the ambulance. Grimacing with pain at every step, Caroline thanked Henry, who had promised to stay with Poppy and Charlie until Tory arrived. Caroline turned to the children, who both looked slightly shell-shocked. ‘Goodbye, angels. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Be good for Tory, won’t you?’
‘Of course we will!’ said Charlie, slipping his hand into Poppy’s. ‘Anyway, Poppy will look after me, won’t you Poppy?’ He looked at his big sister trustingly.
Poppy smiled into his blue eyes, so like Caroline’s, and her heart gave a funny twist. She squeezed his hand and replied, ‘It goes without saying, little brother.’ She looked shyly at Caroline. ‘I hope everything goes OK at the hospital. Will you ring and let us know how you get on?’
‘Of course I will, sweetheart. Don’t you worry about me – I’ll be fine.’ And she stepped gingerly into the ambulance and was gone.
‘Your mum’s a brave lass,’ observed Henry. For the first time in her life Poppy didn’t feel the urge to correct him. ‘Yes, she is,’ she said quietly.
While they waited for Tory to arrive Poppy finished making Henry’s cup of tea and went into the lounge to straighten the rug where Caroline had fallen. As she walked over to the window she, too, almost lost her footing. The floor was as slippery as an ice rink. She looked at the gleaming wooden floorboards and suddenly everything was clear. Poppy tracked her brother down in his bedroom, where he was morosely lining up his action heroes in height order.
‘Charlie – when you tidied the lounge this morning, how did you clean the floor?’ she asked gently.
‘I hoovered the rug and used that polish you gave me on the wooden bit of the floor of course,’ he said, not looking up from his toys.
‘I thought so,’ said Poppy. ‘Probably best not to use polish on the floor again next time. Makes it a bit slippy,’ she added, as tactfully as she could. ‘I think I’d better go and wash it off before Tory arrives. We don’t want her taking a tumble as well.’
Charlie was humming tunelessly to himself, his head bent over the Incredible Hulk and his red Power Ranger. Poppy left him to it. There was no point making him feel guilty for causing Caroline’s fall – he’d only been trying to help. Caroline would see the funny side, she felt sure.
Poppy’s stomach was beginning a low level rumbling by the time she heard the crunch of gravel and a knock at the front door. She flew into the hall and threw the door open. There on the doorstep was Tory, leaning on her sticks, a look of concern on her weathered old face. Behind her, her nephew was unloading carrier bags from the boot of his car.
‘Hello Poppy, I thought you might not have much in the house so we popped into the supermarket on our way. That’s why we’re a bit late.’
‘Fantastic! I’m starving. In fact I’m so hungry I could eat a Dartmoor pony!’ said Charlie, who had appeared in the hallway. ‘Only joking – it would probably be a bit chewy. What have you got us for tea?’
Henry had followed Charlie into the hall. Poppy noticed that he walked with a stoop even when he wasn’t carrying his camera bag.
‘Hello Tory, long time no see,’ he said, holding out his hand.
‘Come here, you daft twit. Give me a hug,’ Tory commanded, and Henry, looking slightly abashed, did as he was told. Tory watched the children’s astonished faces with amusement. ‘I’ve known Henry since he was a baby,’ she said. ‘His mother was a great friend of mine. I met Margaret in the maternity ward and Jo and Henry were born within hours of each other. We always hoped they’d end up getting married but it wasn’t to be,’ she said wistfully.
They chatted for a while until Tory’s nephew started making noises about getting back before it got too dark and Henry reluctantly stood up and said he should also make a move.
‘Now are you sure you’re going to be OK looking after the children, Tory? Will you be able to manage the stairs?’ he asked.
‘I lived here on my own until the beginning of July, Henry Blossom,’ she replied tartly. ‘We’ll be absolutely fine. Poppy can show me where everything is, can’t you, pet?’
They waved the two cars off and went into the kitchen where Tory, with Poppy acting as her sous chef, cooked sausages and mash with peas and onion gravy.
‘That was yum,’ declared Charlie, yawning extravagantly. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and watched sleepily while Tory cleared the table and Poppy began loading the dishwasher. Poppy felt a wave of responsibility sweep over her. Both children were so used to their dad’s trips abroad that his absences were part of the fabric of family life, but Caroline was a permanent fixture. The only time Poppy could recall her stepmother being away for any length of time was when she went into hospital to have Charlie six-and-a-half years ago.
Poppy remembered how excited everyone had been, how they assumed she was looking forward to the baby coming. Truth was, she’d dreaded it. The thought of another girl coming into their home and commanding all her dad’s attention was beyond endurance. When she found out the interloper was a boy it was a little easier to bear and, despite initial resistance on her part, her baby brother gradually wormed his way into her affections. Charlie was an easy baby with a gummy smile that sent old ladies into clucky raptures. But he only had eyes for one person – his big sister. His blue eyes followed Poppy adoringly around the room and as soon as he could crawl he became her shadow. Occasionally having a kid brother got on her nerves but after five years as an only child it was nice to always have someone to play with, even if the games did tend to involve trains and super heroes.
‘Come on Charlie. Let’s take you to bed before you fall asleep at the table,’ she said now, and he followed her obediently up to his room.
By the time she came back down half an hour later Tory was settled on one of the sofas with some knitting, the clicking needles the only sound. Poppy looked at the clock on the oak beam above the fireplace. It was almost eight o’clock and too late to go and see Cloud now. The day had been so filled with drama that she hadn’t given the pony a second thought for hours, she realised guiltily.
‘We never did get a chance to talk about Cloud, did we? Have you seen him again?’ Tory said, as if reading her mind.
Poppy played with a strand of her hair while she deliberated whether or not to tell Tory about her attempts to catch the pony and hide him from the drift. Deciding they both had Cloud’s best interests at heart she took the plunge and told Tory about her forays into the wood under the pretext of badger-watching, the pony’s poor condition and the buckets of food he had wolfed down.
‘The last few times I’ve really felt I’ve made progress. He’s let me stroke him and I’m sure he’s beginning to trust me. But the drift is only two weeks away and I start school on Monday. I’m running out of time,’ she said despondently. Tory stopped knitting and her eyes took on a faraway look. Poppy thought back to the conversation Caroline had overheard in the post office all those weeks ago. Tory must have hidden the pony every autumn to stop him being rounded up with the rest of the Dartmoor ponies.
‘Tory?’ she began, biting her bottom lip until it turned white.
‘Yes, pet?’ The needles resumed their rhythmic clicking.
‘I know you’d have hated it if Cloud had ended up back at George Blackstone’s farm. I was wondering…did you hide him here at Riverdale?’
Tory stopped knitting again and looked at Poppy. She reminded her so much of Caitlyn and it was clear to her that Poppy and Cloud had some kind of connection, just as Caitlyn and Cloud had once had. Taking a deep breath, Tory made a decision she hoped she wouldn’t live to regret.
‘Yes, pet, I did. Saving her beloved Cloud was the one thing I could still do for Caitlyn, so that’s what I did.’
‘But he’s so nervous around people. How on earth did you manage to catch him?’
Tory smiled sadly. ‘Think about it logically, Poppy. The answer is right under your nose.’
Chapter Twenty
> ‘What do you mean?’ asked Poppy.
Tory laid her knitting on her lap. ‘I think I told you that when Cloud first arrived at Riverdale he was incredibly nervous around people?’
Poppy nodded.
‘Gaining his trust took a long time. He spent the first few days cowering in the corner of his stable. Caitlyn spent hours sitting in there with him, trying to tempt him closer with carrots and Polos, but he wouldn’t go near her. I was beginning to think I’d made a terrible mistake, although Caitlyn refused to give up on him. But then someone you know very well helped us make the breakthrough.’ Her eyes twinkled.
‘Chester?’ breathed Poppy.
‘Yes,’ smiled Tory. ‘Of course he was much younger in those days and loved to be at the centre of things. While Caitlyn sat in the corner of Cloud’s stable Chester would rest his head over the stable door, watching this dappled grey bag of nerves in the corner. Chester had an amazingly calming effect on Cloud and as time went on Cloud gradually came out of his shell and started to trust us all. By the time Caitlyn was able to handle Cloud he and Chester were inseparable. Chester was by Cloud’s side when we first tacked him up, when we long-reined him, lunged him and when Cait eventually rode him for the first time.’ Tory could still picture the pony and donkey standing side by side at the paddock gate as they waited patiently for Caitlyn to arrive at Riverdale.
‘It meant that when Cait and Cloud started competing we always had to take Chester too, but Chester didn’t mind – he thought it was a great adventure. He became a familiar sight at all the local shows and loved the attention. And as long as Cloud had Chester and Caitlyn he was alright.’
‘So how did Chester help you catch Cloud?’
‘That first autumn after Caitlyn died I knew I had to hide Cloud from the drift so he didn’t end up back at Blackstone’s. So I went out onto the moor to try to catch him.’
Poppy held her breath.
‘I’d seen him in the distance once or twice so I thought he had stayed fairly close to Riverdale, whether to be near Chester or in the hope that Caitlyn would come back for him one day I’ll never know.’ Tory sniffed loudly. ‘But try as I might, he wouldn’t let me near him. Then one night not long before the drift I was lying awake in bed worrying what to do when I heard Chester braying and suddenly I had the answer.’
‘So you took Chester out onto the moor to see if Cloud would follow him home?’
‘That’s exactly what I did. The very next morning Chester and I went to the end of Riverdale wood. You know where the trees start to peter out at the foot of the tor?’
Poppy nodded. It was close to where she and Charlie had seen the big cat.
‘Apart from a few sheep it was deserted but I had a funny feeling that Cloud would turn up. We waited for over an hour before he finally appeared. I think he’d been hiding in the trees watching us for a while. He and Chester were so pleased to see each other and when I started leading Chester home Cloud followed, all the way back into Chester’s stable where he stayed until after the drift. That’s how I caught him.’
‘But why did you let him go again once the drift was over?’ demanded Poppy.
‘It was the right thing to do. He belonged to George Blackstone, don’t forget. Keeping him would have been theft. But every year Chester and I led him back to Riverdale and kept him safe.’
‘What did you think would happen to him this year, Tory?’
The old woman sighed. ‘It’s been worrying me for months, pet. What with leaving Riverdale, missing Chester so much and fretting about Cloud I haven’t really been myself.’ She looked close to tears.
‘Couldn’t someone have helped you?’ Poppy asked more gently.
‘I thought about trying to talk to Jo, to see if she would, but she hasn’t spoken to me for years and she still blames Cloud for Cait’s death anyway. She wouldn’t throw a bucket of water on him if he was on fire. I can’t stop thinking how disappointed Caitlyn would have been in me.’
Poppy wasn’t a demonstrative child but Tory looked so desolate that she reached over and hugged her. Tory batted away a couple of tears that were rolling slowly down her lined face and muttered, ‘Don’t mind me, pet’. She smelt of talcum powder and peppermint and her jumper, the colour of heather, felt as soft as down against Poppy’s cheek. She only drew back when she realised that one of Tory’s knitting needles was poking uncomfortably in her ribcage.
‘You have me now. I’ll take Chester out onto the moor to see Cloud and we’ll bring him back to Riverdale together.’
Tory was about to reply when the phone rang. ‘It’ll probably be Caroline,’ said Poppy, dashing over to the oak sideboard and grabbing the handset.
‘Poppy, it’s me,’ said her stepmother. She sounded echoey - as if she was standing in the middle of a vast aircraft hangar. ‘They’ve brought a phone to my bed. I’m in the orthopaedic ward. It’s full of young men who’ve fallen off their motorbikes. But they’re all very chatty,’ she added inconsequentially. Poppy wondered how many painkillers Caroline had been given.
‘So how’s your wrist?’ she asked.
‘Oh, that. They’ve X-rayed it and it’s a clean break, luckily. They finished plastering it about half an hour ago. I am now officially plastered,’ she laughed. Poppy raised her eyebrows. ‘But unfortunately I must have banged my head when I fell because they say I’ve got mild concussion. Anyway, enough of me. How are you and Charlie?’
‘Oh, Charlie’s happy – he’s gone to bed on a full stomach. I’m keeping Tory company,’ she smiled at her old friend, who had taken up her needles again and was poised to start clicking. ‘Do you know when you’ll be back?’ Poppy asked, thinking of her plans for the morning.
‘They’re going to keep me in for the night because of the concussion. Will you all be OK? I’m going to try and ring your dad now to see if there’s any chance he can come home early. In fact I’d better try now before I run out of credit. I’ll ring you again in the morning to let you know when I’ll be back. Night night darling.’ And the phone went dead.
‘Everything alright?’ Tory asked.
‘Yes, she seems a bit spaced out but otherwise fine. Much more cheerful, actually. It sounds as though she should be back some time tomorrow. So I’ve decided. Chester and I are going to bring Cloud home tomorrow morning before she gets back.’
Before she went to bed Poppy let herself out of the back door, slipped on her wellies and went to see Chester. She flicked a switch and the single bulb hanging from the roof cast a yellow glow over the stable where he stood chewing hay.
‘You and I have an important job to do tomorrow,’ she told the donkey, rubbing his velvety soft nose. A kaleidoscope of butterflies was sending her stomach into turmoil as nerves and excitement started to build.
Chester, completely oblivious to the rescue mission ahead of them, eyed her calmly and carried on munching.
Chapter Twenty-One
Poppy woke late after a fitful night’s sleep. When she’d finally managed to doze off she’d dreamt of black panthers stalking grey ponies to a soundtrack of rushing water. Opening the curtains she realised why – heavy rain was falling in sheets from a thundery grey sky. The tor was completely concealed by low cloud curling around the trees at the edge of the Riverdale wood. Poppy gave an involuntary shiver. It was what Caroline called Hound of the Baskervilles weather. Unable to shift a sense of unease that had inexplicably settled on her like the mist on the tor, she followed the smell of toast downstairs and into the kitchen where Tory was unloading the dishwasher.
‘Hello Poppy, there you are. I thought I’d leave you to lie in. Thought you needed a decent night’s sleep after the dramas of yesterday,’ she said.
Poppy glanced at the clock on the oven. Ten to nine. ‘Has Charlie had his breakfast already?’ she asked, sitting down at the kitchen table.
‘No, pet. I didn’t want to disturb him either. Poor lamb looked all in last night. He’s having a lie in, too.’
‘Crikey. I don
’t think I’ve ever known Charlie to stay in bed past seven o’clock. Usually he’s the first up.’
Poppy yawned and smiled her thanks at Tory as the old woman placed a plate of buttered toast in front of her, although the butterflies in her stomach made the thought of eating impossible.
‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to go out on the moor today, Poppy. Dartmoor can be a dangerous place at the best of times, but in weather like this it’s treacherous. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you or Charlie while I’m looking after you both.’
Poppy was silent. There was no way a bit of rain was going to stop her rescuing Cloud, but she didn’t want to worry Tory. ‘Perhaps it’ll brighten up later,’ she ventured.
‘Perhaps,’ replied Tory, unconvinced. ‘What would you like to do this morning? Shall I teach you poker?’
‘Yes, that would be fun. Thanks for breakfast but I’m not really hungry. I’ll go and clean my teeth and then feed Chester,’ she said.
On her way back from the bathroom Poppy glanced into Charlie’s bedroom and saw the silhouette of his sleeping shape under the Thomas the Tank Engine duvet cover that, aged six, he now considered too babyish for words. She went back downstairs, fed Chester, then spent a companionable hour with Tory learning about flushes and five card draws, poker faces and tells. When ten o’clock had been and gone and there was still no sign of her brother Poppy put down yet another losing hand and said, ‘Tory, before you beat me again, I’m going to check on Charlie. I won’t be a minute.’