by Amanda Wills
Scarlett's ears pricked. ‘And you don't, by the sound of it.’
‘Let's just say we don't always see eye to eye. But other people seem to like him. Especially girls,’ he said darkly.
Scarlett raised her eyebrows and winked at Poppy. ‘He sounds interesting.’
Chapter Three
Poppy unfolded the list of instructions Bella had pressed into her hand before she'd left. ‘What should we do first?’
Sam peered over her shoulder. ‘I'll start on poo-picking if you two can muck out. Do the liveries first, just in case they turn up.’
Poppy nodded. Bella's five liveries were all stabled in the newest loose boxes on the south facing side of the yard. She and Scarlett had helped Bella turn them out before breakfast. Two nervy thoroughbreds, one chestnut, one bay. A skewbald, a palomino and a showy Danish warmblood.
Poppy followed Scarlett over to the wheelbarrows, which were propped along the side of the barn, and picked up a pitchfork and broom. They worked together, forking out the muck and wet straw and banking the clean, dry straw around the sides of the stable. While the floors dried they filled the hayracks and water buckets and emptied the wheelbarrows onto Bella's towering muckheap. Poppy was balancing two bales of straw precariously on the wheelbarrow when she heard a car turn into the yard and the sound of a door slamming. As she looked up to see who it was the top bale toppled over and knocked over a bucket of water.
A tall, thin woman wearing pristine white jodhpurs and black leather riding boots strode over and looked down her aquiline nose at Poppy.
‘Where's Bella?’ she asked in clipped tones.
‘I'm sorry, she's not here. Can I help?’
The woman eyed Poppy with disdain. ‘I don't suppose so for a minute.’
‘Bella's had to go away for a couple of days,’ said Scarlett, emerging from the stable behind them.
‘Who's running the yard?’
‘We are,’ said Poppy. ‘With help from Sam and Bella's godson Scott. He works in a showjumping yard in Exeter. He'll be here soon.’
The woman's lips grew thin. ‘I see.’ She tapped her thigh impatiently. ‘I wanted to check the farrier's coming this afternoon.’
Poppy consulted Bella's instructions.
‘John the farrier is due at three o'clock to shoe three of the liveries,’ she read. ‘Cherry, Otto and Ariel.’
‘Make sure he does Ariel first. We have the National Dressage Championships qualifier tomorrow and if my horse hasn't been shod in time there'll be consequences.’ She looked from Poppy to Scarlett and back again, her eyes narrowed. ‘Understood?’
Poppy and Scarlett watched the woman stalk back to her car.
‘What an old bag,’ whispered Scarlett, sticking her tongue out at the woman's bony back. Poppy stifled a snort of laughter, quickly disguising it as a cough when she stopped in her tracks and turned back to face them.
‘And leave him in the stable in the morning. We've got an early start and the last thing I need is to be traipsing halfway across the paddocks to catch him,’ she said.
‘It'll be a pleasure,’ Poppy said, hoping the woman didn't detect the irony in her voice.
‘That must be Vile Vivienne. Sam warned me about her earlier. He said she orders him about like he's her personal slave,’ said Scarlett as the woman drove off.
‘Which one's Ariel?’ Poppy asked.
‘The black Danish warmblood that shares a paddock with Paint the skewbald. He's a real sweetie apparently.’
‘Nothing like his owner then.’ Poppy blew her fringe out of her eyes. ‘Let's get this straw down and we'll see how Sam's getting on.’
Scarlett produced a penknife from her pocket and cut open the first bale of straw. ‘What time is Scott supposed to be here?’
Poppy checked her watch.
‘Half an hour ago,’ she said drily.
Poppy and Scarlett were shaking out the last of the straw when a second car pulled into the yard.
‘Perhaps that's Scott,’ said Scarlett hopefully.
But a pretty woman in shorts and a vest top was emerging from the car. Judging by her honey blonde hair she was Sam's mum, Sarah. She saw the two girls and smiled.
‘Are you ready for some lunch?’
‘Am I ever,’ said Scarlett.
‘Good. I've made a mountain of sandwiches. Mum made me promise to keep you both fed and watered, like you were two of her riding school ponies.’
‘I'll fetch Sam,’ Poppy said, heading for the top paddock where she could see the quad bike and trailer Bella used for poo-picking. Sam was in the far corner.
‘Your mum's here,’ she said.
‘That's good timing. I've just finished. Want a ride back?’ he said. ‘I'm as safe as houses, honest.’
‘I guess,’ said Poppy, looking at the seat of the quad bike dubiously. It didn't look very big.
Sam climbed on and looked around to see where she was. ‘C'mon then, I'm famished,’ he said, patting the padded seat behind him.
Poppy gave a tiny shrug and climbed behind him. He turned on the ignition.
‘Hold on then,’ he said, revving the engine. Poppy held on as loosely as she could and soon they were off, bumping along the field towards the yard. The quad bike hit a rut and lurched sideways. Poppy shrieked, her arms instinctively tightening around Sam. She could feel the muscles in his back flexing as he steered the bike onto more even ground.
‘I'll just get rid of this lot on the muck-heap,’ Sam shouted over his shoulder. He stopped at the gate to the yard and Poppy leapt off like a scalded cat. But not before Scarlett had seen them and had given her a knowing wink.
‘Don't,’ Poppy said. ‘It was quicker than walking, that's all.’
Scarlett smirked. ‘I'll take your word for it.’
They were finishing the last of Sarah's homemade chocolate brownies when the throaty growl of a motorbike cut through the warm afternoon air. Sam checked the time on his phone.
‘Only an hour late,’ he said.
Scarlett rammed the last piece of brownie into her mouth, stood up and ran her hands through her hair. She was already halfway across the yard when a black and silver motorbike roared in. The rider turned off the engine, kicked down the side stand and pulled off his helmet.
‘Are you Scott?’ said Scarlett, holding out a hand. Instead of shaking it the visitor handed her his helmet.
‘I certainly am. And which one of my lovely helpers are you, Poppy or Scarlett?’
‘I'm Scarlett,’ Scarlett said breathlessly. ‘We've already mucked out and done the liveries' hay and water and we'll do the riding school ponies after lunch so the only thing you need to do is make sure the farrier does Ariel first because Vile Vivienne's got a dressage qualifier in the morning and she said if he isn't shod there'll be consequences and Bella's had enough consequences this week to last her all year, so we really don't want any more.’
Scott threw his head back and laughed loudly. One of his front teeth was chipped, the only flaw in an otherwise perfect smile. ‘Slow down Scarlett. I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Let me have a cup of tea first, eh?’
‘Sorry Scott,’ Scarlett said, bobbing her head. ‘I'll go and stick the kettle on.’
‘White, strong and sweet please,’ he called after her. He gave Sarah a hug and pinched the half-eaten brownie on the paper plate on her lap. She smiled indulgently and batted him on the arm. Sam returned his high-five with about as much enthusiasm as a turkey invited to be guest of honour at lunch on December the twenty-fifth. Poppy allowed herself a small smile. Assuming it was meant for him Scott grinned back.
‘And you must be Poppy,’ he said, his muddy brown eyes assessing her.
She nodded and fled to the kitchen. Scarlett was stirring a mug of builder's tea, a dreamy expression on her face.
‘He's so hot,’ she said. ‘He looks like Benedict Cumberbatch.’
Poppy raised her eyebrows. ‘D'you think?’
‘No, you're right. He's e
ven better looking.’ Scarlett picked up the mug and headed for the yard. Poppy sighed and followed her.
Scott was lounging against the door to Ariel's stable. Curls of damp hair were stuck to his head and tickled the collar of his battered black leather jacket. When he pulled off his leather gloves to take the tea from Scarlett Poppy noticed his nails were bitten to the quick.
Harvey Smith, woken from his cat bed in the tack room by the roar of the motorbike, padded out, saw Scott and made a beeline for him, rubbing his tabby cheek against Scott's skinny jeans. Scott took a slurp and looked around him.
‘It's good to be back,’ he said.
Scott disappeared inside to unpack and Sarah began tidying away lunch.
‘We'd better make a start on the other stables before the farrier gets here,’ said Sam. ‘I'll muck out if you two do the hay and water.’
Sam worked sparingly and methodically down the line of stables while Poppy and Scarlett emptied wheelbarrows, scrubbed out and filled water buckets and replenished hayracks. Soon the eight stables used by the riding school ponies were finished and it was time to catch the three liveries.
‘You bring Ariel and Scarlett and I'll get Cherry and Otto,’ Sam said, handing Poppy a brand-new leather headcollar. ‘Just mind Paint because he has a habit of following Ariel out of the gate if you're not careful.’
Poppy and Scarlett followed Sam down the dusty track that led to the paddocks. Halfway along he stopped and pointed to a bay mare and a chestnut gelding who were standing nose to tail under an apple tree.
‘That's Cherry and Otto,’ he said. ‘They've only been with us a few months. They're owned by a husband and wife, Debbie and Tim. They're both a bit highly-strung.’
‘Cherry and Otto, or Debbie and Tim?’ Poppy asked, admiring the two thoroughbreds' fine build and handsome heads.
‘They all are actually,’ said Sam. ‘Not a good combination. Debbie and Tim are both over-horsed really. They'd only been having lessons for a few months when they bought these two from a yard in Yorkshire that produces top competition horses. They have lessons with Gran but they're both a bit neurotic and worry about absolutely every little thing. They treat Cherry and Otto like their children. There's Ariel, over there.’
The big Danish warmblood was watching them from the next paddock. He was a glossy jet black apart from four white socks.
‘He's beautiful,’ Poppy said.
‘Much too nice for Vile Vivienne,’ agreed Scarlett.
Grazing in the far corner of the paddock with his rump towards them was a hogged skewbald cob. Poppy's heart lurched. Paint was a dead ringer for Beau, the horse she'd fallen in love with during her trekking holiday in the Forest of Dean. She opened the gate and walked over to Ariel, offering him a Polo. He lowered his head and took the mint from her palm. She was standing on tiptoes buckling his head strap when she felt a nudge and warm breath on her back. Paint was standing behind her, eying her expectantly.
‘Where did you spring from?’ she laughed, peeling off a mint for him. He snatched it greedily and nibbled her pocket. ‘Alright then, just one more. I was saving these for Cloud,’ she told him.
Poppy clicked her tongue and started leading Ariel towards the gate. Paint pricked his ears and followed. They reached the gate and Poppy looked back. The skewbald cob was so close to Ariel that there was no way she would be able to lead him out without Paint following. She looked around for help but Cherry and Otto's rumps were already disappearing around the corner into the yard. She pushed Paint gently on the shoulder but the sturdy cob simply leant his bulk towards her.
‘You're more like Beau than I thought,’ she told him. ‘Luckily I know something you won't be able to resist.’ She peeled off the remaining Polos and dropped the first onto the grass under Paint's nose. Ariel followed her patiently while, one by one, she laid a trail of mints leading away from the gate. As the cob sniffed his way along the trail, snaffling the mints up, Poppy opened the gate and led Ariel through.
‘Job done!’ she said, patting the black gelding's muscular neck.
By ten to three all three liveries were in their stables ready for the farrier. Poppy picked up a broom and began sweeping the yard. Three o'clock came and went with no sign of John. By a quarter past Sam was anxiously checking the time.
‘It's not like him to be late,’ he said.
‘He's probably been held up at his last job. He's not even half an hour late yet,’ reasoned Poppy.
By half past three Sam's forehead was creased with worry. ‘It wouldn't normally matter, but if Ariel's not shod today Vivienne will have a nervous breakdown,’ he said. ‘Gran must have John's number somewhere. I'll phone him.’
As Sam disappeared into Bella's office the phone started ringing.
‘That'll be John, letting us know he's running late,’ said Scarlett.
‘What's up?’ Poppy asked, as Sam came out shaking his head.
‘It was another wrong number. So I tried phoning John, and he said he had a call from Gran cancelling his visit this morning. He's on the other side of Okehampton and won't make it today.’
‘Why would Bella have cancelled him and not told us? It doesn't make sense,’ said Scarlett.
‘Maybe she forgot about tomorrow's dressage test and thought the farrier would be one less thing for us to worry about,’ Sam shrugged.
‘But he's on the list,’ said Poppy, pulling it out of her back pocket. ‘John the farrier at three o'clock to shoe Cherry, Otto and Ariel. Was it definitely Bella who called?’
‘That's what John says and he wouldn't have any reason to lie. He's usually really reliable. That's why Gran always has him.’
Ariel leant over his stable door and nibbled at Poppy's pony tail. Her face paled.
‘Oh God. Who's going to break the news to Vile Vivienne?’
Chapter Four
Scott drew the short straw.
‘On account of him not being here,’ said Poppy. ‘Come on Scar, let's go and tell him the good news.’
They found Sarah peeling potatoes in the kitchen.
‘Have you seen Scott?’ Scarlett asked.
‘I've made a bed up for him in Sam's room. He went upstairs to unpack,’ she said.
As they climbed the stairs they became aware of a soft whistling sound coming from the back of the house.
‘Someone's snoring,’ said Poppy.
‘It sounds as if it's coming from Sam's room,’ whispered Scarlett. ‘What should we do?’
They stood outside the room and looked at each other uncertainly. The door was ajar. Poppy pushed it open with her index finger and peered around it. There was Scott, fast asleep on top of the duvet in the bed furthest from the door, his shoes still on and his rucksack beside him.
‘Dead to the world while we've been hard at it. I thought he was supposed to be here to help,’ fumed Poppy.
‘But we can't wake him. He looks so peaceful,’ protested Scarlett.
‘Too right we can,’ said Poppy. She coughed loudly. Scott didn't stir. She shoved open the door, letting it hit the wall with a satisfying bang. They watched as Scott opened first one eye, then the other, before yawning so widely they were given an unrivalled view of his tonsils. Puppy pulled a face.
‘Sorry to wake you, Scott, but we've got some bad news,’ said Scarlett.
He sat up, ran a hand through his hair and eyed them blearily.
‘Must have just nodded off. Had a late one last night,’ he said. ‘What's happened?’
‘I'll leave you to fill Scott in,’ Poppy told Scarlett. ‘I'm going to see if I can find Vile Vivienne's number. It must be in Bella's office somewhere.’
Sam was sitting in Bella's swivel chair with his head in his hands. Poppy stood at the door watching him for a moment. He looked as though he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
She cleared her throat. Sam looked up and gave her a fleeting smile.
‘I'm after Vivienne's phone number. Perhaps Scott can go on a charm offensive
and smooth things over,’ she said brightly.
Sam reached for a blue ledger buried under a pile of Horse and Hound magazines. He flicked through to the back page, copied a phone number on an old envelope and handed it to Poppy.
The phone rang. Sam stared at it as if it was contagious.
‘Aren't you going to answer it?’ said Poppy.
‘What if it's Vile Vivienne? I don't know what to say to her,’ he said.
Poppy crossed the room and picked up the handset, bracing herself for Vivienne's clipped tones.
‘Redhall Manor Equestrian Centre. Can I help?’
But there was nothing but silence on the other end of the line.
‘Can I help you?’ she repeated.
Poppy held her breath and listened really carefully. Was that static on the line or the sound of someone breathing? A shiver ran down her spine and she stabbed the end call button with her finger. She realised Sam was watching her.
‘Wrong number again?’ he asked.
‘I guess. They didn't actually have the courtesy to say,’ said Poppy.
‘We've had a few this weekend. I'll have to get Gran to call out the engineers when she gets back. She's obviously got a crossed line.’
Scott appeared with Scarlett at his heels. Poppy handed him the phone and Vivienne's number.
‘Just explain there's been a misunderstanding and that the farrier has promised to come out first thing tomorrow,’ said Sam.
Scott nodded at the door. ‘Clear off you lot. I don't want an audience. There must be plenty of jobs that need doing.’
Sam shot Scott a filthy look and Poppy rolled her eyes. Only Scarlett seemed happy to do his bidding.
‘I'll go and make you another cup of tea,’ she said, virtually skipping across the yard. Sam shut the door and beckoned Poppy to follow him down the side of the office to an old window at the end.
‘I've got to hear this,’ he said.
They crouched down under the window and listened as Scott dialled.
‘Hello, can I speak to Vivienne Montague? It's Scott from Redhall. I'm afraid I have some bad news. No, Ariel's absolutely fine. It's the farrier. He crashed his van on the way here and won't make it tonight.’