by Amanda Wills
Poppy and Scarlett clutched each other, their thoughts in sync.
‘The horses!’ they cried.
Chapter Fifteen
Never had Poppy dressed so quickly. Within seconds she was running out of their room, Scarlett on her heels.
‘Go and tell Nina what's happened and meet me in the yard,’ she panted. Scarlett nodded and they sprinted in opposite directions, Poppy heading for the back door, Scarlett towards Lydia's bedroom. Poppy grabbed a heavy duty torch from the hook by the door and pulled on her jodhpur boots and coat, her stomach liquid with fear. She cursed as she fumbled with the lock which stubbornly refused to open. ‘Come on!’ she muttered, forcing herself to pause and take a couple of deep breaths before tackling it again. This time the key turned smoothly. She yanked the door open and stared into the dark. Driving rain was coming down in sheets, soaking her to the skin in seconds. Remembering the torch, she flicked it on and followed the beam towards the yard.
The scene that greeted her was like the set of a disaster movie abandoned halfway through filming. The lightning strike had cut the oak in two with a surgeon's precision. One half of the tree had crashed into the hay barn, taking the electricity and phone lines with it. The other half had sheared off and fallen in front of the barn where the horses were stabled, blocking the barn doors and the gate to the drive.
Poppy could hear a horse's frantic neighing over the sound of the rain bouncing off the concrete. She ran over to the doors but a huge branch barred her way. She lowered her shoulder to it and pushed with all her strength, but it was immovable.
‘Poppy!’
She looked up at the sound of Nina's voice. She was holding a hysterical Lydia in her arms, Scarlett beside her. All three were drenched. Poppy ducked under the branches and made her way over to them.
‘The tree's blocking the barn door. I've tried moving it but it's stuck fast,’ she told them.
‘The horses'll be safe in there though, won't they?’ asked Scarlett.
‘They should be. The roof's fine, although the same can't be said for the hay barn,’ said Poppy.
Lydia lifted her head from her mum's shoulder and stared at the roof of the hay barn. ‘More lightning!’ she howled, burying her face in Nina's neck.
They spun around. Poppy felt her blood run cold. The electricity cable severed by the tree was arcing wildly like a demented serpent, the end of it glowing as blindingly white as a magnesium flame in a school science lab. They watched, horrified, as it hissed and fizzed, metres away from the barn full of tinderbox dry hay.
‘We need to call the fire brigade!’ Scarlett shouted to Nina over the wind and rain.
‘We can't! The phone line's down and there's no mobile signal here. And I can't get the jeep out - the tree's blocking the gate.’ Nina's voice was shaky.
‘There must be something we can do. How far is the nearest house?’ shouted Poppy.
‘Three miles away. It's the farm we rode past the other day,’ Nina reminded them. It seemed like a lifetime ago. ‘It'll take almost an hour to walk there, especially in this weather.’
Poppy looked helplessly at Scarlett and then back at the electricity cable twitching and jumping on the roof of the hay barn. Lydia lifted her tear-streaked face again and peered over her mum's shoulder. ‘Frank!’ she sobbed.
‘He'll be OK, he's in the paddock,’ Nina soothed, stroking her sodden hair.
‘No, Mum! He's here!’ she cried, pointing into the dark. The Shetland stepped into the beam of the torch and Lydia wriggled out of her mum's arms and ran to him.
‘Wait - who's that behind him?’ said Poppy. She raised the torch and her heart gave a funny little skip. A hairy face with a forelock like rats' tails, a pink nose and a blue eye staring dolefully at them emerged before their eyes like a mirage.
‘Beau! How on earth -’ Nina spluttered.
‘Frank must have escaped from the paddock and let Beau out of the barn before the tree came down,’ said Scarlett.
Poppy found herself taking two steps forward. The cob whickered and she flung her arms around his neck. She became aware of Nina talking.
‘ - and I think it should be you, Poppy.’
‘What should be me?’
‘You need to ride Beau to the farm to get help. I can't leave Lydia, not when she's in this state.’
‘What about his tack?’ Poppy knew without looking that they couldn't get into the tack room - a branch the size of a small tree pinned the door shut. ‘He hasn't even got a headcollar on.’
‘I've got a spare headcollar in the house. It's a bit small but it'll do. Scarlett, it's hanging on the coat stand in the hallway. Will you run and get it?’
Scarlett nodded and raced towards the house.
Poppy still wasn't sure. ‘I've never ridden bareback before. What if I can't stay on?’
‘You'll be fine. Beau'll look after you. Head for the far end of the top field, turn left after you've gone through the gate and follow the line of trees for a couple of miles until you get to the clapper bridge. The farm's straight ahead. Tell Bert and Eileen what's happened and get them to call the fire brigade. Even if their phone line's down I think they get a mobile signal there.’
Scarlett appeared beside them and thrust the headcollar and a frayed lead rope into Poppy's hands. She tried to unfasten the buckle on the headpiece but her fingers were so cold they wouldn't work properly. Scarlett grabbed the headcollar back, slipped it on and fastened the buckle. She clipped the lead rope to the ring on one side, tied the end to the ring on the other and handed the makeshift reins to Poppy, who took them reluctantly.
‘I think Scarlett should go. She's a much better rider than me,’ she stalled.
‘Beau trusts you, Poppy. Just look at him,’ said Scarlett. Poppy realised the cob had edged towards her and was nuzzling her hand, his breath warming her freezing fingers, his pink nose as soft as velvet.
Nina broke the silence. ‘Listen, we haven't got time to argue. I'll give you a leg up.’
Still Poppy was rooted to the spot.
Scarlett bellowed in her ear. ‘Hurry up Poppy! I couldn't bear it if something happened to Topaz.’
The thought of the horses trapped in the barn while the deadly electricity cable was writhing unrestrained a few feet away finally brought her to her senses. She ran around to Beau's near side, put her knee in Nina's cupped hands and grabbed a handful of Beau's mane.
‘On the count of three,’ Nina shouted. ‘One...two...three!’ Nina pushed Poppy skywards and she flung her right leg over Beau's back, landing with a jolt. Nina passed her the makeshift reins and she took a hank of mane in each hand and wound it around her fingers.
Nina took a step back. ‘So you know where you're going?’
Poppy nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘You'll have to ride around the back of the barn and over the muck heap. It's the only way out. Good luck. And stay safe.’
Poppy gave the ghost of a smile and clicked her tongue.
‘Come on Beau. Let's go.’
Chapter Sixteen
They trotted out of the yard towards the muck heap, a horseshoe-shaped construction with old railway sleepers stacked five feet high on three sides and piled high with manure. Beau paused at the bottom and Poppy squeezed her legs. ‘Come on boy, up you go.’ With a grunt he sprang from his hindquarters to the top of the heap. Poppy gasped as she felt herself sliding backwards. She baulked at the sheer drop down the other side of the sleepers to the field but Beau had no such hesitation. He leapt over the edge, landing heavily on the saturated ground. The impact threw Poppy forwards and she clutched his neck, clinging on like ivy. Beau lifted his head, tipping her upright again, and she tightened her grip on the lead rope.
The rain pelted down, gluing her eyelashes together, and she leant forwards and wiped her face on her arm. She knew she had to cross the field diagonally to the gate at the far end but in the dark it was impossible to see where it was. She just had to guess. She kicked Beau into a canter an
d within seconds he was loping along, his long, rocking-horse strides eating up the ground. She urged him faster and he extended his stride into a gallop. Without thinking Poppy adopted a jockey's position, crouching low over the cob's outstretched neck, her hair plastered to her face.
After a while Beau slowed to a canter and then broke into a trot. Poppy could just make out the shadow of the post and rail fence that marked the end of Nina's land. She guided Beau along the length of the fence until they reached the gate. Beau stood like a rock as she leant down and groped for the latch. Her hands closed around the cold, hard links of a metal chain and she groaned. She pictured them riding through the gate two days before. It had been padlocked and Nina had had to jump off McFly and open the lock with a key she'd taken from the pocket of her riding jacket. In her panic she'd forgotten to give the key to Poppy.
‘What do we do now?’ Poppy cried to Beau. ‘There's no other way out!’ She looked over her shoulder in the direction of the yard, wondering if the electricity cable was already burning through the roof of the hay barn like the glowing tip of a soldering iron scorching through metal. She looked back at the gate. There was no other option.
‘We're going to have to jump it, Beau,’ she told the cob, swinging him around so they could get a decent approach. She had no idea whether Beau was capable of jumping a five bar gate, let alone whether or not she'd be able to stay on bareback. Would he even be able to see the gate in the dark? But they had to try. She kicked him back into a canter and whispered, ‘Come on boy, you can do this.’
Beau's ears were pricked as he cantered towards the gate. Poppy sat quietly, trying to keep her centre of balance in line with Beau's. The cob pushed off from his hind legs and suddenly they were soaring over the gate with centimetres to spare. Both terrified and exhilarated, Poppy leaned forwards, her hands tangled in his long mane. All too soon Beau was landing on the wet ground. Adrenalin was pumping through Poppy's veins and she found herself punching the air. Beau shook his big head and picked up a canter.
‘You clever, clever boy,’ Poppy told him. ‘Now we need to follow the trees.’ She squeezed with her right leg and Beau veered left. They thundered on, galloping parallel to the wood. Poppy tried to picture the layout of the land. But she'd been in such a strop the day they'd ridden back through the farm that she'd paid hardly any attention. She had no idea where the bridge was in relation to the trees.
‘I'm such an idiot, Beau,’ she muttered.
They galloped on. Poppy almost lost her balance when Beau swerved to avoid a deer which bounded out of the trees a few feet in front of them. ‘Hello dear!’ she shouted, laughing slightly manically. The deer stopped and watched the girl and horse as they flew past.
There was a maelstrom of noise pulsing through her head. The pounding of the unrelenting rain was melding with the beat of Beau's hooves as he galloped through the mud. On top of this Poppy became aware of another sound. If she was not mistaken it was the roar of rushing water. They must be approaching the river.
‘Whoa, Beau. Steady now,’ she said softly, and the piebald cob slowed his pace to a walk. He was blowing hard and Poppy untangled her right hand from his mane and stroked his neck. The whoosh of the river was getting louder and soon they were standing on its bank. Squinting into the dark, Poppy could just make out the torrent of water as it surged past.
‘We need to follow the river to the bridge,’ she told Beau, and they turned right and continued until they reached the clapper bridge. Built from large slabs of stone resting on a single stone pillar in the middle of the water, the bridge was around two metres wide and six metres long. Poppy remembered Nina telling them as they rode across that it was almost four hundred years old. Beau stopped at the edge of the bridge. Poppy squeezed her legs. He took a step forward, his hoof making a brittle chime as his metal shoe hit the stone slab. He hesitated, his head high as he sniffed the air. Poppy could feel his muscles tense and she squeezed again.
‘Just across the bridge and we're almost there!’ she shouted over the wind and rain. But Beau stepped backwards, almost unseating Poppy. She clicked her tongue and pushed him on with her heels. ‘We're running out of time! Come on Beau!’ she urged.
For a fraction of a second the cob wavered. Poppy seized her chance and kicked again. He pitched forwards onto the bridge.
Beau felt the stone slab move a beat before Poppy did and he tried frantically to backtrack onto solid ground. But the rain-sodden field was too wet, too slippery, for his hooves to gain any purchase. Time stood still as the old stone bridge wobbled for a few terrifying seconds. And then Poppy and Beau were plunging headfirst into the swirling water below.
Chapter Seventeen
Nina had watched Poppy and Beau disappear out of the yard hoping she hadn't sent them on a fool's errand. Scarlett stood next to her, gazing into the darkness.
‘Do you think they'll be alright? It's pitch black out there. There aren't even any stars. How on earth will they know where they're going?’ she fretted.
‘Horses can see better in the dark than we can. And Beau knows the way. I trust him with my life. Don't worry, Scarlett. He'll look after her.’
Scarlett was unconvinced but said nothing. Nina looked around the yard, assessing the damage. The electricity cable was still convulsing sporadically but there was no sign of fire. She was more worried about the horses. The crashing and banging from their barn could easily be heard over the sound of the wind and rain. Every now and then one would whinny, setting the others off. At least Lydia had calmed down now the thunder had stopped and was crouched beside Frank, her face buried in his tufty mane.
‘There must be a way I can get into the barn. I need to settle the horses before they do themselves any damage,’ Nina said.
But the huge branch blocking the barn door was an impenetrable mass of solid oak wood that was strong enough to build warships from.
‘Do you have a chainsaw?’ Scarlett asked. ‘I've watched Dad use ours hundreds of times. It looks easy enough.’
Nina shook her head. ‘There's an old handsaw in the garage. I'll go and find it.’
The blade of the saw was riddled with rust. The rain had made the branch slippery and it was almost impossible to get a rhythm going. They worked silently, taking it in turns when the muscles in their arms started burning but after half an hour, when they'd failed to cut even a couple of centimetres through the oak, Scarlett flung the saw on the ground.
‘This is pointless,’ she shouted to Nina over the rain. ‘Let's hope Poppy's having more luck.’
The water was so cold it took Poppy's breath away. She gasped for air, choking as she sucked in a mouthful of muddy river water. The sound of rushing water filled her ears and she fought for breath, her chest heaving. Her hands felt as if they were lashed together by rope and she tried to pull them free from their bindings, panic rising. It was seconds before she realised groggily that the ties were strands of Beau's mane, which were wound around her fingers like seaweed. By some miracle she was still on his back. She gripped tighter as the cob kicked for the riverbank, his head raised above the raging river. Completely disorientated, she had no idea which side they should be heading for. But Beau seemed to know. She could feel his legs moving under the water as the river flowed past. Poppy pictured a duck gliding on a mirror-flat pond, its face serene as its yellow webbed feet paddled furiously below the surface. Nice weather for ducks.
‘Get a grip,’ she muttered. They were drifting downstream and Poppy sensed that Beau was tiring. ‘You can do it, Beau!’ she shouted. ‘Come on boy, we're nearly there.’ Beau quickened his kicking. At last, with a herculean effort, he lunged for the riverbank and she cried out with relief as she felt his feet dig into the solid riverbed. He heaved himself out of the water, Poppy still clinging on, and gave an almighty shake that made her teeth rattle.
Beau was trembling beneath her. She ran her hand down his neck. ‘You brave, brave boy,’ she whispered. Nina was right. He had the heart of a lion. How had she
been so blind? She stared through the gloom in the direction of the farm. A faint light glowed in the distance.
‘We're almost there, Beau. Not far now.’ She squeezed her legs and the cob broke into a steady canter. Poppy's saturated clothes clung to her body and she could still taste the gritty river water. Soon they reached the gate where Poppy had fallen off. For the first time that night luck was on their side. The gate was swinging open and they cantered through. The clatter of Beau's shoes on the concrete farmyard floor was a welcome sound. But the knot of fear had returned to her stomach with a vengeance. What if they were too late? Was fire already sweeping through the barn, obliterating everything in its path?
The light she'd seen from the riverbank was coming from a single overhead lamp in the corrugated steel farm building to her left. The building was full of Friesian cows.
‘Hello!’ called Poppy. But her voice was drowned out by the plaintive mooing of the cattle. She cleared her throat and tried again. ‘Hello!’ she yelled. ‘Is there anybody there?’
There was a volley of barking and an elderly man appeared from around the side of the barn, a border collie skulking behind him.
‘Are you Bert?’ Poppy asked.
‘Aye, that's me,’ said the man, who was ninety if he was a day. He motioned the dog to lie down and slowly crossed the yard to Poppy. ‘What's up, lass?’
‘Nina sent me. You need to call the police. I mean the fire brigade. The oak tree's been struck by lightning and it's fallen down. The horses are trapped in the barn. And the tree's brought the electricity and phone lines down, too,’ Poppy gabbled.
‘The oak tree, you say?’ said Bert, his face ponderous.
‘Yes, the oak. The horses are trapped.’ Poppy repeated. ‘And the electricity cable is sparking. It's about to set fire to the hay barn. We need to phone the fire brigade.’