The Riverdale Pony Stories Box Set (Books 1-6)

by Amanda Wills

  ‘He can't have gone far. The gate to the track's closed,’ Chloe pointed out.

  ‘Wait a minute - Frank's gone, too!’ said Jess.

  ‘I might have known,’ said Nina grimly. ‘Follow me,’ she told Poppy, heading for the hay barn. She threw open the double doors to reveal Frank and Beau, who were happily working their way through a bale of hay.

  ‘I did warn you that Frank was a little Houdini,’ Nina said. ‘Next time pass the end of the lead rope through the loop of the quick release knot. Frank can still undo that if he's got long enough to figure it out, but at least it buys you some extra time.’ She smiled briefly at Poppy, who was willing the earth to swallow her up. ‘It's OK, no harm done, and you'll know for next time. She glanced at her watch. ‘Come on everyone, let's see if we can be ready in five minutes.’

  Soon they were clip-clopping down the lane. Or, if Poppy was being accurate, the others were clip-clopping down the lane and Beau was trundling along in his own little world, helping himself to mouthfuls of cow parsley and taking no notice of his rider and her efforts to chivvy him up. She doubted the cob even remembered she was still on board. She was so used to seeing Cloud's small grey pricked ears in front of her that she kept doing a double take when she saw Beau's enormous black ears flicking back and forth. Cloud's silver mane was neatly pulled and lay smoothly to his off-side. Despite her best efforts to tame it, Beau's thick mane was flopping over on both sides and was already starting to tangle. Poppy had spent the last few weeks counting the days until the riding holiday. Now she was counting the hours until she returned home. She gathered up the reins and attempted to kick Beau into a trot.

  ‘Come on, you lazy toad,’ she said, clicking her tongue. Beau gave a shake of his large head and broke into an unenthusiastic jog. She caught up with Scarlet and Cally, who were riding two abreast down the quiet country lane. Blue flicked her grey tail in displeasure and snaked her head at Beau, her ears back and her teeth bared.

  ‘Oh, Nina says Blue doesn't like Beau,’ said Cally. ‘It might be better if you don't ride next to us.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Poppy said, flustered.

  ‘Come and ride next to me and Chloe,’ said Jess. ‘Willow and Rusty won't mind.’

  Grateful not to be lagging behind on her own yet again Poppy manoeuvred Beau alongside the two girls.

  ‘Do you have your own pony at home, Poppy?’ asked Chloe.

  ‘Yes, I have a dappled grey Connemara called Cloud. And a donkey called Chester. What about you two?’

  Chloe shook her head. ‘I wish I did. I have riding lessons every Saturday, and I know I'm lucky to have that, but it's not the same, is it?’

  Poppy smiled sympathetically. ‘No, it's not. I know exactly how you feel. When we lived in London all I ever wanted was my own pony. I didn't even have riding lessons until we moved to Devon.’

  ‘That's why my mum and dad gave me the riding holiday for my tenth birthday. They said it would be cheaper than buying me my own pony. I've been looking forward to it for months,’ said Chloe, hugging Rusty's neck.

  ‘What about you, Jess?’ Poppy asked. She was pretty sure the answer was yes. Although Chloe sat in the correct riding position and kept her back straight, her heels down and her hands steady, her body was rigid and her grip on Rusty's reins was tight. It betrayed the fact that she was a novice, only used to riding once a week. Jess, on the other hand, had the relaxed, easy seat of someone who'd been riding all her life. She had Willow on a long rein and her body moved in rhythm with the dun mare's swinging walk.

  ‘Jack and I share our sister Lucy's old pony, Magic,’ said Jess, confirming Poppy's hunch. ‘Lucy's at university and hardly rides these days. Jack's only really interested in bombing around at our pony club with his friends, so I get to ride Magic most. He's a bit old and creaky, but I love him.’

  Poppy smiled and began to relax. As they wound their way along forest tracks behind the others she found herself telling the girls about Cloud.

  ‘Last summer we moved from London to a cottage on the edge of Dartmoor. It's next to Scarlett's farm,’ she added, glancing ahead to her friend, who was still deep in conversation with Cally. Poppy's smile faded and she turned back to the two girls.

  ‘The cottage is called Riverdale and it used to belong to an old lady called Tory Wickens, who bought Cloud for her grand-daughter Caitlyn. But Caitlyn was killed when they fell during a hunter trial.’

  ‘Killed!’ said Chloe, aghast. ‘What happened?’

  Poppy remembered the rainy day the previous autumn when Tory, her weathered old face streaked with tears, had described the events of that terrible day. Caitlyn, a talented young rider with masses of potential, had been flying around the course on her beloved Connemara when he had lost his footing in the mud as the pair jumped a drop fence.

  ‘He somersaulted over, throwing Caitlyn underneath him. Tory said she died instantly.’

  ‘That's awful!’ said Jess, her eyes wide.

  ‘How old was she?’ asked Chloe.

  ‘Thirteen. A year older than me and Scarlett.’

  The two girls fell silent. Poppy knew they would be imagining the sirens, the ambulance lurching over the uneven, muddy course, the screens being erected around the young rider as the paramedics shielded her lifeless body from the spectators. Poppy knew, because she had imagined the scene countless times herself.

  ‘Poor Caitlyn,’ whispered Jess.

  ‘I know. Tory never really got over it.’

  ‘What happened to Cloud?’ asked Chloe.

  ‘He was bought by a local famer, a man called George Blackstone. He's as nasty as they come. People say he beats the ponies he buys and sells and I can quite believe it.

  ‘Cloud managed to escape from the Blackstone farm and spent the next few years living wild on Dartmoor. I saw him from a distance the day we moved to Riverdale and spent weeks trying to catch him. In the end he was rounded up with the Dartmoor ponies and Blackstone sold him at auction, but my dad was there and bought him for me.’

  ‘Wow, it's like a fairy-tale. Why do things like that never happen to me?’ said Chloe wistfully.

  ‘Ah, but it wasn't quite as simple as it sounds. He'd broken a bone in his foot so there was a chance I might never be able to ride him. He had to have months of box rest. And then last Christmas, while I was in bed with the flu, my brother Charlie accidentally fed him unsoaked sugarbeet and he was so ill with colic that I thought he was going to die.’

  After being virtually ignored and then admonished by Scarlett, Poppy was gratified by the rapt expressions on the two girls' faces. ‘We were completely snowed in so the vet couldn't get to us,’ she told them.

  ‘What did you do?’ Chloe asked, open-mouthed.

  ‘I kept walking him every half an hour. I'd remembered reading that was what you're supposed to do. Luckily it did the trick and the colic passed. His fracture healed earlier this year and I finally started riding him this spring.’

  ‘You saved his life,’ breathed Jess.

  ‘Yes, I suppose I did,’ Poppy replied. She sat taller in the saddle and smiled modestly at Chloe and Jess. Unfortunately Beau chose that precise moment to sidestep into the trees to avoid a puddle and Poppy was almost knocked out of the saddle by the low-hanging bough of a sweet chestnut tree. She cursed under her breath as the whippy branch struck her cheek painfully.

  ‘Are you alright?’ Chloe asked in concern.

  ‘Yes, I'm fine,’ she answered, rubbing her cheek. Beau swung back onto the path, completely unaware that he'd almost knocked her flying.

  Or did he know exactly what he'd done? Poppy couldn't be sure. All she knew for certain was that she missed Cloud with all her heart and would have given anything to have swapped the bumbling Beau for her beautiful Connemara.

  Chapter Seven

  Poppy's cheek was still smarting as she untacked Beau and brushed him down after their ride.

  ‘What happened to you? It looks like you've been slapped in the face by a wet fis
h,’ smirked Cally as she walked past the cob on her way to the tack room. Jack, who was untacking Rocky nearby, sniggered.

  ‘No, Beau just chose to go the scenic route through the trees. But I'm glad you both find it so amusing,’ Poppy muttered, bending down to pick up one of Beau's feet so they couldn't see her face. Beau turned his head and nipped her backside.

  ‘Ow! What did you do that for?’ she cried, dropping both his foot and the hoofpick, which skittered onto the concrete. She heard Cally stifling a snort of laughter as she crossed the yard to Blue. Poppy glared at her retreating back and then looked daggers at Beau, who was nibbling his lead rope unperturbed.

  ‘You could show me some loyalty. As if I haven't got enough to put up with,’ she told him, tugging at the quick release knot and dragging him towards the field gate. Nina joined them as they passed the hay barn. She gave Beau's ear an affectionate rub and smiled at Poppy.

  ‘How are you finding Beau?’

  Poppy scratched around for something positive to say and failed. ‘He's certainly like nothing I've ever ridden before.’

  ‘Good, I'm so glad you like him.’ They passed under the old oak. ‘Have I told you about our oak trees here in the Forest of Dean?’

  Poppy was glad to have something to take her mind off Cally, Scarlett and Beau, and shook her head.

  ‘Have you heard of Lord Nelson?’ Nina asked.

  ‘Yes. There was a pub near our old house in London that was named after him. He was a famous soldier, wasn't he?’

  ‘Not a soldier, no. Nelson was a British naval commander during the Napoleonic wars. He visited the Forest of Dean in 1802 looking for timber to build warships. He was so shocked at how few trees there were that he urged the Admiralty, which was in charge of the Navy, to plant more oaks. Thirty million acorns were planted, but by the time the trees had grown it was too late and ships were being built out of iron and steel.’

  ‘So that was a complete and utter waste of time.’

  ‘Oh no, I wouldn't say that,’ said Nina. ‘If they hadn't planted those millions of acorns we wouldn't have our beautiful forest today. I'm glad they didn't think too far ahead.’

  Poppy looked at the old oak. Its girth was so wide she doubted that three people could have linked arms around it. ‘So is this one of the trees Nelson's lot planted?’

  ‘Who knows? But it's certainly hundreds of years old. And it gave the house its name, of course.’

  Poppy thought for a minute. Something was nagging her. ‘Aren't acorns poisonous to horses?’ she said.

  Nina looked impressed. ‘Yes, they are. So are the leaves. I spend most of the autumn sweeping the yard to make sure there aren't any for the horses to eat. It's hard work. But the tree is so much a part of Oaklands that I don't really mind.’

  They reached the gate and Nina opened it so Poppy could lead Beau through.

  ‘You must really love this place,’ Poppy said.

  Nina tightened her grip on the gate and Poppy was alarmed to see a look of anguish cross her face.

  ‘Yes,’ Nina said quietly. ‘I do.’

  Poppy decided not to join the others in front of the television after dinner that evening, and instead disappeared into the bedroom to read. She had half hoped that Scarlett would persuade her to stay but instead her friend, who was sitting on the sofa with Cally, had barely thrown her a backward glance. She felt both irritated and dismayed at the way Cally had so effortlessly hijacked her best friend. It was as if Scarlett had been dazzled by the older girl's personality and had forgotten Poppy even existed. Poppy rubbed her aching shoulders and found the latest issue of Young Rider Magazine, which she'd stuffed inside her bag when she'd packed. Her winning story had been published in full along with those of the two runners up. The editor had asked her to email in a photo of her and Cloud, and Poppy had picked her favourite picture, taken by Charlie on his little digital camera a few weeks before. Cloud's silver mane was blowing in the wind and Poppy was laughing as she held a carrot for him in the palm of her hand. ‘Great photo!’ the editor had emailed back, and they'd used it above her story. Poppy studied the picture and wondered yet again if Cloud was missing her. There was no mobile phone signal at the house, otherwise she'd have been ringing or texting Caroline several times a day to check he was alright. She didn't like to ask to use the phone at Oaklands unless it was an emergency.

  She remembered the last email she'd had from the editor, letting her know when her story would be published. ‘Perhaps you'd consider writing a small report on your holiday for us to publish in a future edition,’ she had added.

  ‘Hmph,’ said Poppy as she switched on the bedside light and settled down to read. ‘I don't suppose Young Rider Magazine is interested in horror stories about pig-headed carthorses.’

  She tried to concentrate on an in-depth article about dressage but it was no good. Her attention kept wandering. Flinging the magazine down beside the bed she went in search of a glass of water. As she passed the door to the lounge she glanced in and saw Scarlett and the others laughing uproariously at a sitcom. It was one of Poppy's favourite programmes but she felt too left out of things to join them. Instead she carried on towards the kitchen, trying to ignore the loneliness that had been her constant companion since they'd arrived at Oaklands.

  The kitchen was in darkness, the only light coming from the digital clock on the oven and the red flashing light of the answerphone. Not bothering to turn on the light Poppy headed for the larder, where Nina kept the glasses, mugs and plates. She opened the old wooden door and was reaching up for a tumbler when she heard footsteps. Suddenly the room was flooded with light. Poppy froze. Nina had told them they should help themselves to drinks but she felt awkward skulking around in the dark. She realised it was Nina, humming to herself as she filled the kettle. Poppy was about to breeze out with a glass in her hand when she heard the click of the answerphone and a man's voice filled the air.

  To sidle out now would seem suspicious so Poppy crept to the furthest corner of the larder, squeezing between a sack of potatoes and a shelf stacked with saucepans and baking tins.

  ‘This is a message for Nina Goddard of Oaklands Trekking Centre,’ the man announced in an officious tone.

  Nina stopped humming. Even from the depths of the larder Poppy could sense the tension in the air.

  ‘My name is Graham Deakins and I am a financial asset investigation specialist,’ he continued. Poppy caught Nina's sharp intake of breath.

  ‘I need to talk to you urgently about monies due. Please phone me at your earliest convenience on -’ Nina cut the man off mid-sentence. When Poppy heard a small sob she wished she was anywhere but there, witnessing Nina's distress. She breathed as quietly as she could, her heart thudding, until the kitchen light went out and she heard the door close. She didn't know who the man was, or what he wanted. But she knew one thing for certain. It wasn't good news.

  The next morning Nina seemed her usual cheerful self and Poppy wondered if she'd misunderstood the answerphone message. To her surprise she managed to catch Beau, groom him and tack him up without being bitten, knocked flying or having her feet stamped on, and felt as though she was making real progress. It was a glorious early summer day and the hedgerows were brimming with frothy-white cow parsley and magenta red campion. The sun was warm on her back and she whistled quietly to herself as she and Beau ambled down the lane behind the others.

  They stopped for lunch in a grassy clearing deep in the forest, surrounded by oaks and electric green bracken. They took their sandwiches and drinks from their saddle bags and looped their reins over their horses' heads so they could hold them while they ate. Poppy's stomach was rumbling and she wolfed down her squashed cheese and pickle sandwich in seconds. Beau's head fell, his eyes closed and before long he was fast asleep, his bottom lip drooping unattractively. Poppy took a swig of her water and listened to the conversations going on around her. Chloe and Jess were debating the merits of cross country over showjumping and Jack was telling Nina about
his latest computer game. Although she was giving a good impression of being interested, there was a vacant look in her eyes and her mind was obviously elsewhere. Scarlett was quizzing Cally about the latest ex-racehorse she was re-training.

  ‘We think she has great potential as an eventer. I'm working on her dressage at the moment then Rose says I can enter her in her first one day event. They fetch more money if they've started competing.’

  ‘That's so cool,’ Scarlett said. ‘Maybe I could come and watch.’

  Poppy tutted to herself and yawned. Rays of sunlight piercing the heavy oak leaves lit yellow celandines and waxy white wood anemones on the forest floor like tiny spotlights illuminating characters on a theatre stage. She leant against the bough of a tree and watched Beau dozing until her own eyelids felt heavy. Before long she, too, was asleep.

  She was woken by a gentle nudge on her shoulder and opened her eyes to see Beau's hairy face centimetres from her own. His warm breath smelt of spring grass and his whiskers tickled her cheek. The others were gathering up their lunch things and Poppy jumped to her feet and pulled on her hat. She found a tree stump to use as a mounting block and sprang into the saddle. Steering Beau over to Topaz and Scarlett she said lightly, ‘Hello stranger. How's things?’

  ‘Great, I'm having a fantastic time. Topaz's brilliant. I'm going to miss her so much,’ said Scarlett passionately. Poppy pictured Blaze, her friend's loyal Dartmoor pony, grazing in her field back home.

  Scarlett guessed what she was thinking. ‘I love Blaze, of course I do, but I've almost outgrown her, Poppy, you know that. You've got Cloud waiting for you at home. Imagine how ridiculous I'll look on Blaze when we ride out together. I wish Mum and Dad would buy Topaz.’

  ‘But she's not for sale, Scar. Nina needs her for the riding holidays. She'll be someone else's pony next week.’ When Poppy saw the hurt on her best friend's face she could have kicked herself for being so tactless, but it was too late to take the words back. She wasn't surprised when Scarlett resumed her place beside Cally, leaving her on her own behind Jack, staring at Rocky's chestnut hindquarters yet again.