by Amanda Wills
If horses could have shrugged with indifference Poppy would have bet money that's what Beau was doing right now. But at least he stood still as she whizzed around him, putting on his saddle and bridle, tightening his girth and pulling down his stirrup leathers. Soon she was leading him out of his box into the yard, where everyone else was standing waiting for her.
‘Good, you're ready. The mounting block is over there,’ said Nina, pointing to the opposite side of the yard. Poppy felt everyone's eyes on her as she led Beau over, checked the girth again and pulled herself gingerly into the saddle. At fifteen hands, Beau was slightly taller than Cloud, and felt enormous compared to her fine-boned Connemara. Poppy cringed with embarrassment when Lydia shouted, ‘She's finally ready! Can we go now?’
‘OK everyone. Just a few house rules,’ said Nina. ‘I'll ride up front with Frank and Lydia on a leading rein, then Topaz and Blue, Willow and Rusty and finally Rocky and Beau bringing up the rear. We'll be riding along country lanes for a mile or so before we reach the forest so please be polite to drivers, and once we're on the bridleways keep to the tracks and stay in line. Right, follow me.’
Nina turned McFly out of the yard. Poppy gathered up her reins and squeezed with her heels but Beau stood stubbornly still as the others filed in behind the bay thoroughbred and began walking down the track to the road. When Rocky's liver chestnut rump had disappeared through the gates and Beau was still refusing to budge Poppy kicked as hard as she could. The cob grunted and set off at a snail's pace behind him.
Beau's rolling gait was nothing like Cloud's graceful stride. Poppy wondered if this was what camels felt like to ride. Rocky was already twenty metres ahead and Poppy kicked again. Beau reluctantly broke into a trot and Poppy bumped up and down for a few strides until she found a rhythm and started to rise. She could feel a sheen of sweat across her forehead and her hands were clammy. Up ahead Scarlett was riding alongside Cally, who sat gracefully astride the elegant Blue. Scarlett's face was animated and she paused every now and again to run her hand along Topaz's golden neck. She was clearly having the time of her life. Poppy looked down gloomily at Beau's tangled mane and feathered feet. Why didn't Nina give her an old carthorse and be done with it, she fumed.
Some holiday this was turning out to be.
The others had disappeared into one of the wide forest tracks that fed into the road like tributaries into a river when Poppy heard a car behind her. She heaved Beau to a halt and waited for the car to pass. Beau took the opportunity to grab a mouthful of cow parsley and she was leaning forward so she could pull it out of his mouth when she became aware of a silver bonnet drawing alongside them. Straightening her back she stared at the man who had almost ploughed into Beau just a few hours before. But he obviously hadn't made the connection, and to her surprise opened his electric window.
‘Excuse me, I seem to be lost. I'm looking for Oaklands.’
Poppy fixed her eyes on Beau's ears and said nothing.
‘Oaklands,’ he repeated. ‘Nina Goddard's place. According to the map it's down here somewhere. Do you know where it is?’
Poppy could see a map, a clipboard and the man's mobile phone on the passenger seat beside him. Oaklands was in all likelihood on the map anyway, she supposed.
‘It's about a mile back that way,’ she said finally, pointing behind her.
‘Are you her daughter? Lydia, isn't it?’
Poppy shook her head.
‘Do you happen to know if Mrs Goddard is in?’
‘She won't be back for at least a couple of hours.’ Beau stuck his head through the window and sneezed, spraying the man's shiny suit with droplets of snot. Poppy pulled his head back hastily.
‘Beau! Sorry about that. Can I give her a message?’
Wiping his trousers fastidiously, the man looked up in irritation. ‘What? No, don't bother. I'll track her down soon enough.’ The window slid shut and the car pulled away. Poppy shrugged, kicked Beau on and they trotted down the lane. Nina and McFly met them as they crossed the road and joined the forest track.
‘There you are!’ said Nina. ‘I thought I'd better come and find you. Everything OK?’
‘There was a man looking for you,’ said Poppy.
Nina's forehead creased. ‘A man?’
‘Yes, in a silver car. I saw him earlier as well. He overtook us on the way here and almost caused an accident.’ Poppy wasn't sure if Nina knew Beau had been out on the road and felt it best not to worry her.
‘What did he say?’ Nina asked.
‘He asked for directions so I told him where you lived. But when I asked him if he wanted me to give you a message he said no, he'd track you down himself.’
The colour sapped from Nina's face. ‘Track me down?’
‘Yes, that's what he said. He asked me if I was Lydia.’
‘He knew Lydia's name?’ she asked faintly.
‘He didn't seem very friendly, actually.’ Poppy considered the encounter. ‘Did I do the right thing?’
‘I should have known it was only a matter of time,’ Nina said, half to herself. She looked at Poppy, her eyes anxious. ‘Please don't mention this to anyone. With any luck we'll make it to the end of the week.’ McFly pawed the ground impatiently and Nina gathered her reins. ‘Come on, we'd better get back to the others.’
Chapter Five
Poppy didn't have a chance to wonder what the man wanted and why Nina had seemed so troubled. All her energies were concentrated on keeping up with the rest of the riders. Never before had she had to work so hard in the saddle. Even Flynn, the stout Dartmoor pony she'd learnt to ride on, was more bouncy than Beau. No matter how much she kicked his piebald sides the cob refused to alter his pace from the leisurely rolling walk that she swore was making her seasick.
As they ambled along a grassy forest track that cut a swathe through lofty pine trees Beau snatched at his bit and stretched his neck down. Assuming he had an itch, Poppy let the reins slide through her fingers. But the cob had other things on his mind, and began snatching up mouthfuls of grass. ‘Oh no, you don't,’ she told him, hauling at his reins. But he ignored her and carried on grazing. It took Nina to re-appear alongside them and reach over to grab his right rein before he lifted his head.
‘You need to be firmer with him, Poppy,’ Nina said. ‘I'm afraid he does try it on with new riders. You have to earn his respect.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Goodness, look at the time! We really need to get going. Do you think you can try to keep up?’
‘I'll do my best,’ Poppy said through gritted teeth. ‘Although if you'd given me a half-decent horse to ride it wouldn't be an issue,’ she muttered as Nina took Frank's lead rein from Cally and re-joined the front of the group.
Poppy spent the rest of the ride lagging behind the others, like a dawdling toddler trailing behind her parents. Only when they turned back down the grassy track towards home did Beau seem to wake up, and when the others broke into a canter he grabbed the bit and set off behind them like a racehorse out of its stall when the starter's pistol was fired. Poppy, thrown back in the saddle by the force of his acceleration, clutched the reins and a handful of his long mane for good measure as he thundered along the track, his feathers flying. The breeze felt cool on her pink cheeks and she began to relax into his long, loping gait. He must be the closest thing on earth to a rocking horse, she thought, as they gained ground on Rocky and Jack.
Poppy stood up in her stirrups as Beau's stride lengthened and the beginnings of a smile crept across her face. She realised with surprise that she was actually enjoying herself. But her pleasure was short-lived. The cob spooked at a clump of oxeye daisies growing in the long grass to the side of the track, slamming on his brakes and dropping his shoulder like an actor taking a bow. Poppy, her weight already forward, was thrown out of the saddle and landed heavily on a clump of thistles. Still holding Beau's reins, she heaved herself upright. He watched innocently as she plucked a couple of thorny spikes from her backside. She shot him a filthy look and gath
ered her reins, hoping she could jump back on before anyone noticed. But it was too late. Jack had slowed Rocky to a walk and was calling to Nina. Poppy just caught his words as they were carried away by the wind.
‘It's Poppy again. She's fallen off this time.’
The sun was low in the sky by the time they began evening stables. As Poppy mucked out Beau's loosebox, scrubbed out and re-filled his water bucket and re-stocked his hayrack she thought about the man in the silver saloon car. He'd looked harmless enough so why had Nina been so worried when she'd found out he was looking for her? She'd seemed particularly upset when Poppy had told her he'd mistaken her for Lydia. And what did she mean about making it to the end of the week?
Poppy was dying to tell Scarlett about the mystery man and seized her chance when they changed for dinner.
‘He seemed a bit...strange,’ said Poppy. Scarlett was facing the small mirror over the chest of drawers, her back to Poppy. ‘Hey, wait a minute. Since when did you start wearing make-up?’
Scarlett eyed her in the mirror. ‘Cally lent me some. I thought I'd give it a try. Is that a problem?’
‘No, of course not. I was only asking. Don't be so defensive. Anyway, he looked really angry when Beau sneezed all over his shiny suit.’
‘I'm not surprised. Wouldn't you be?’
‘But what do you think he wanted? And why did Nina look so worried?’ Poppy said. But she could tell that Scarlett wasn't really listening. She was too busy striking poses in front of the mirror, her newly pearlescent lips catching the light as she pouted like a catwalk model. Finally satisfied with her appearance, she turned to face Poppy and gave a little twirl.
‘How do I look?’
Poppy considered her best friend. Scarlett had swept pale pink blusher over her cheekbones and had smudged black eyeliner along her eye-lids before applying several layers of mascara. The smoky look accentuated her hazel eyes. She looked much older than her twelve years. Poppy wasn't sure she liked it. Scarlett tousled her hair, letting her fringe fall over one eye.
‘Well?’ she demanded, her hands on her hips.
‘It's OK I suppose, but I prefer the natural look. Come on, we're going to be late for our tea.’
The topic of conversation over the dinner table revolved around the Oaklands horses. Everyone else was delighted with their rides, which made Poppy feel doubly short-changed to have been given Beau. That night, as they lay in their bunk beds, Poppy railed against Nina for giving her the ungainly cob.
‘Honestly Scarlett, it's like riding a socking great elephant,’ she moaned. ‘He's about as responsive as a dodo.’
But if she was hoping to elicit any sympathy from her best friend she was out of luck.
‘Did you know Cally went to a John Whittaker showjumping clinic last year? It was a fourteenth birthday present from her granny, lucky thing.’
‘Really?’ said Poppy. ‘But I mean, Scarlett, you're alright. Topaz is great. Beau is an absolute nightmare. Do you think Nina would swap him for one of the other horses if I asked? After all, I did win the short story competition.’
‘Cally says I've got a really nice seat, much better than the girls my age who go to her riding school,’ Scarlett continued.
‘Her riding school now, is it? I thought she just mucked out in return for the occasional ride,’ said Poppy grumpily.
‘She's got a proper job as a groom and she's going to train to be an instructor. I think she'd be really good, don't you?’
‘Scarlett! Do you think Nina would give me another horse if I complained about Beau?’
Scarlett finally turned her attention to her friend. ‘Nina has a soft spot for him, that's what Cally reckons anyway. I think you should give him another chance.’
Poppy stuck her tongue out at the dark shadow of Scarlett's mattress above her and pulled her duvet over her head. ‘Why not give me Blue and let the wonderful California have Beau? See how she gets on with the great clodhopper,’ she grumbled into her pillow.
Scarlett, who was having the time of her life, either didn't hear or chose not to answer. She turned over and promptly fell asleep while Poppy seethed quietly in the bunk bed below.
Chapter Six
The early morning dew had turned cobwebs on the grass into glistening panels of lace that reminded Poppy of the delicate antimacassars on the two floral-patterned armchairs in her old friend Tory's small flat. Her jodhpur boots were quickly soaked through as she marched across the paddock Beau shared with Frank and Rocky, Beau's cob-sized headcollar on her shoulder and a Polo going sticky in her right palm. The piebald was tearing up tussocks of the dewy grass as if he'd been without food for a week. Poppy clicked her tongue and opened her hand.
‘Look, I've brought you a Polo,’ she told him. ‘And if you behave yourself I've plenty more where they came from. But I don't want any more bad behaviour.’
She had woken in a peevish mood. Her body felt as though it'd been pulled on a rack, her left foot was a livid shade of purple and she swore she still had a thorn in her right buttock. Added to that, Scarlett's incessant chirpiness was starting to wear thin and she wasn't relishing the prospect of another day spent doing battle with the ill-mannered cob.
Beau lifted his shaggy head and Poppy slipped the headcollar over his muzzle, buckled up the strap and gave him the mint. ‘Try not to bite my hand off this time.’ Beau whickered. ‘Was that for me?’ she asked him in surprise. But he was looking over her shoulder at Frank, who had appeared from the other side of the field. ‘Of course it wasn't. You like me about as much as I like you. Come on, I don't want to be the last one ready today.’
Topaz and Blue had been tied up next to each other. Poppy tugged on Beau's lead rope and he followed her unenthusiastically to the other side of the yard, depositing a large dropping on the concrete the minute she'd finished tying a quick release knot. She cleared it up before scooting over to the tack room in search of some grooming kit and spent the next fifteen minutes trying to brush the mud from Beau's thick coat. Frank was wandering around the yard stealing brushes and hoofpicks to the amusement of the others, who had already started tacking up.
Poppy mouth was gritty with dust and she had a horrible feeling that she was covered in a fine film of the mud she'd just brushed from Beau. Sighing loudly, she walked over to fetch his tack, stopping to listen to Scarlett and Cally on her way. The older girl was telling Scarlett about the riding school where she worked.
‘The horses I ride are all thoroughbreds that used to race on the flat. Rose - she's the owner - buys up ex-racehorses and I help her re-train them before she sells them on.’
‘Really? Ex-racehorses? That's amazing.’
Cally acknowledged Scarlett's admiration with a careless dip of her head. She had the kind of easy confidence that Poppy found incredibly intimidating and usually left her tongue-tied. But she remembered her stepmum Caroline's advice, edged over and said, ‘Scarlett says you want to train as a riding instructor when you leave school, Cally.’
The older girl gave her a lofty look and nodded. ‘Yes, but my ultimate ambition is to be picked for the British showjumping team.’
‘Wow, that's impressive. Do you do much jumping now?’
‘I started affiliated classes this spring. The trouble with training the ex-racers is that the minute they're jumping well Rose sells them and I have to start all over again. I need to find a way of getting my own horse, but Mum's always broke and I don't even earn a fraction of the minimum wage at the stables.’
Scarlett had disappeared into the tack room. Poppy tried to look sympathetic. ‘These things have a habit of working out. That's what my stepmum always says, anyway.’
‘Easy for you to say. Scarlett told me your dad works for the BBC and is always on the television. You must be rolling in it,’ Cally said bitterly. She untied Blue, pulled her stirrup leathers down roughly and sprang into the saddle, shooting Poppy a scathing look as she did.
Poppy coloured and disappeared into the tack room in search of
Scarlett, who was humming to herself as she pulled on her hat.
‘I wish you hadn't told Cally what my dad did. She's just accused me of being loaded. Chance would be a fine thing,’ she grumbled.
‘You are, compared with Cally,’ said Scarlett bluntly. ‘Her dad left when she was a baby. Her mum is a part-time carer and they live in a council flat. Cally says they don't have two pennies to rub together.’
‘Well, it's no reason for her to have a go at me. It's not my fault her mum can't get a decent job.’
‘Poppy! That's a terrible thing to say. You know nothing about Cally or her mum. Sometimes you should try thinking before you speak.’ Scarlett brushed past Poppy as she stomped out of the tack room. Poppy felt a stab of hurt and went to follow her friend, but was deterred by the set of Scarlett's shoulders. Instead she sat on a feed bin and watched a pair of swallows swooping in and out of their mud nest high on one of the rafters. Hearing the clatter of hooves she heaved Beau's saddle from its rack, picked up his bridle and headed back out into the yard. The sun was bright after the gloom of the tack room and she paused for a moment to rub her eyes.
Nina stepped in front of her, obscuring the sun. ‘Where's Beau, Poppy?’
‘He's over -’ she began, but the words dried up as she looked across the yard in dismay. The loop of string she'd tied Beau to was flapping gently in the wind and the piebald cob was nowhere to be seen.
Poppy looked around her wildly. ‘I left him tied up outside the barn while I popped in to get his tack. He must be here somewhere.’ She became aware that the others had stopped what they were doing to listen.
‘Are you sure you tied him up properly?’ Nina said, running her hand through her hair.
‘Yes!’ cried Poppy, already doubting herself. She felt everyone's eyes on her and thought longingly of Riverdale, where it was just her, Cloud and Chester and no-one questioned her every move.