by Amanda Wills
‘Really? I don't think I've ever known him to make a drink for anyone other than himself,’ said Sam.
‘Yes, but he did disappear about half an hour ago. He's probably fast asleep on the sofa by now,’ said Poppy.
‘It's hardly surprising. He must work so hard at that showjumping yard,’ said Scarlett.
Poppy and Sam exchanged a look.
‘I could do with some help exercising the liveries. Fancy coming with me?’
Scarlett's eyes lit up. ‘You get to ride the liveries?’
Sam nodded. ‘Debbie and Tim pay extra for Cherry and Otto to be exercised a couple of times a week. So does Kim, Ellie's owner. Sometimes Gran lunges them, sometimes I school them, but I reckon we deserve an hour off to go for a hack, don't you?’
‘Bags I ride Cherry,’ said Scarlett.
‘I'd better take Otto. He can be a bit unpredictable.’ Sam held out a navy headcollar for Poppy. ‘Are you OK with Ellie?’
Poppy nodded. Ellie was a showy palomino mare with four white socks and an extravagantly long mane and forelock. At 15.2hh she was a hand taller than Cloud but more finely-built.
‘Her name's actually Elidi, which means gift of the sun in Greek,’ said Sam as Poppy tied Ellie up next to Otto. ‘She's not a novice ride, but I reckon you can handle her.’
The mare fidgeted while Poppy set to work brushing the dust from her butterscotch-coloured coat. She tossed her head as Poppy combed her mane and pawed the ground impatiently when Poppy appeared with her tack.
Poppy placed the saddle on the mare's back, buckled the girth loosely, looped the headcollar around Ellie's neck and put the bridle on. As she fastened the noseband Harvey Smith darted out of the tack room door and flashed across the yard with his tabby tail as bushy as a fox's, sending an empty bucket flying. Ellie leapt about a foot in the air, her hooves jangling on the concrete yard.
‘Easy girl,’ Poppy murmured, running her hand along Ellie's neck. She felt a flutter in her stomach at the thought of riding the flighty mare.
Scarlett was already leading Cherry over to the mounting block. Poppy re-tied her ponytail, put on her hat, unfastened Ellie's headcollar and waited while Scarlett mounted the towering thoroughbred.
‘It's about two degrees cooler up here,’ Scarlett grinned. ‘Blaze is going to feel like a Shetland pony after Cherry.’
Poppy tightened Ellie's girth, adjusted the stirrup leathers and led her over to the mounting block. She climbed the steps, gathered the reins in her left hand and was just about to put her left foot in the stirrup when the mare swung her quarters away, leaving a yawning gap between them. Poppy got back down, circled the mare and led her back to the mounting block. But she did exactly the same again, swinging away just as Poppy was about to get on.
‘Having a spot of bother?’ said a voice. Poppy turned to see Scott lounging against the post and rail fence around the school, his hands curled around a mug of tea.
Poppy felt her face grow hot. ‘Third time lucky,’ she muttered, circling Ellie again. This time the mare backed away from the mounting block before Poppy had even climbed onto it.
‘I'll hold her for you if you like,’ Scott said, not waiting for an answer. He took Ellie's reins and pushed her rump firmly towards the mounting block. He scratched the mare's poll and she lowered her head demurely and stood perfectly still while Poppy jumped on and gathered her reins.
Ellie nibbled Scott's pockets and sniffed at the dregs of his tea. Poppy wouldn't have been surprised if she'd fluttered her long eyelashes at him. The palomino mare had obviously fallen for his charms, too.
‘Thanks,’ she said.
‘Anytime. Enjoy your ride.’
‘The buckets and water troughs need filling,’ Sam said as they rode out of the yard. Scott pulled a face and disappeared into Bella's office.
‘If they're done by the time we get back I'll eat my hat,’ Sam sighed.
Ellie jogged up the road behind Otto and Cherry, her nostrils flared as she spooked at the tattered remains of a plastic carrier bag caught on a barbed wire fence. Poppy grabbed a handful of her long mane and held on tight.
‘It's alright, you silly horse. It's a bag, not a bogeyman. It won't hurt you.’
In the year since she'd learnt to ride on Flynn, Scarlett's brother Alex's rotund Dartmoor pony, Poppy had only ever ridden four other horses. Cloud, Bella's New Forest mare Rosie, Sam's Connemara Star and Beau, the big, hairy piebald cob she'd fallen in love with during their week at Oaklands Trekking Centre in the Forest of Dean. Ellie was nothing like any of them. She felt like an active volcano, ready to erupt at any minute.
Sam pulled Otto alongside her.
‘Alright?’ he asked.
Poppy licked her lips. The roof of her mouth was sandpaper dry. ‘She's quite, er, lively,’ she said, as Ellie shied at a sheep, cannoning into Otto before Poppy could stop her.
‘She's always a bit spooky when she hasn't been out for a few days. She'll settle down in a minute,’ he said.
‘I'll take your word for it,’ Poppy muttered, tightening her reins.
Instead of turning onto the track Poppy and Cloud had followed that morning, Sam took a right into a narrow lane that ran parallel to a stream. A clutch of fluffy yellow mallard ducklings glided gracefully after their parents. Poppy imagined their tiny feet paddling furiously under the water and smiled.
‘OK for a trot?’ Sam called.
‘You bet!’ cried Scarlett.
Ellie needed no encouragement either and sprang into the floatiest trot Poppy had ever experienced. It felt as though they were trotting on air.
They reached a T-junction and turned right over an old stone bridge. Ellie spooked, boggle-eyed, at a yellow salt bin, but this time Poppy was ready for her and sat relaxed in the saddle.
‘We usually have a canter through the woods,’ said Sam, turning Otto down a bridleway. Ellie snatched at her bit and crabbed sideways down the track, but Poppy was unperturbed. She'd realised that nothing the mare did was malicious, she was just fresh. And Poppy had to admit her canter was as amazing as her trot. They cantered through the woods, one after the other, the horses' pounding hooves sending pheasants scurrying for cover.
Too soon they'd reached the end of the bridleway and turned for home.
‘This road brings us out at the back of Gran's. We can ride through the fields back to the yard,’ said Sam.
Ten minutes later they came to a five bar gate.
Ellie gawked at a puddle of water.
‘That's funny,’ Poppy said.
‘What is?’ asked Scarlett.
‘Look at that massive puddle. But I can't remember the last time it rained, can you?’
Scarlett shrugged. ‘Perhaps it rained last night.’
They rode past the field Cloud was sharing with Blaze and Treacle. Poppy held her hand over her face.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ said Sam.
‘Hiding from Cloud. I don't want him to see me riding another horse,’ Poppy whispered. At that moment Cloud lifted his grey head and whinnied. ‘Oh no, he's seen me!’ she cried.
Scarlett howled with laughter. ‘What, are you worried he'll be jealous? He's a horse!’
Scott was sitting on a bale of hay texting on his phone when they arrived back in the yard, a row of empty water buckets at his feet.
‘I might have known,’ muttered Sam, jumping off Otto.
Scott shoved his phone in his back pocket. ‘Good ride?’
‘It was great. Cherry's just brilliant. I've decided I want my next pony to be a 16.2hh thoroughbred. I'm going to skip the 14.2hh stage,’ said Scarlett.
Scott noticed Sam scowling at the empty water buckets. ‘Before you say anything, Samantha, I did try and fill them, but there's no water.’
‘What do you mean?’
Scott sauntered across to the tap outside the tack room and turned the handle. The tap coughed, gurgled and spluttered out a few paltry drops of water.
‘See? I've told your mum. She doesn't know w
here the stopcock is so she's trying to get through to Bella, but it's just going straight to answerphone at the moment.’
Poppy tied Ellie up and began untacking her. ‘It might be a leak. Remember that puddle we passed on the way in? I could phone the water board. They might send someone out to have a look.’
‘In the meantime where on earth are we going to get water for the horses?’ said Scarlett.
She had a point, thought Poppy. The nearest neighbour was probably a quarter of a mile away. She remembered the family of mallards.
‘What about the stream? It's a bit of a trek but if we do it together it shouldn't be too bad. At least the water is clean and fresh.’
‘Sounds like our only option,’ said Sam. ‘I'll turn Ellie out if you phone the water board, Poppy. There should be a number in the office somewhere.’
Harvey Smith was sprawled over Bella's dog-eared phone book. Poppy tickled his chin and deposited him on the floor. He immediately jumped onto her lap and began kneading her thighs, purring loudly. Poppy flicked through the phone book to W and there was the number she was looking for in Bella's precise handwriting.
She was just about to pick up the phone and dial when it rang, making her jump. Harvey Smith mewed crossly and sprang off her lap.
‘Hello?’
Poppy listened for an answer but all she could hear was static.
‘Can I help you?’
Still no answer. Poppy felt irritation rise. This wasn't crossed lines. Someone was deliberately phoning Redhall and giving them the silent treatment, she was sure of it.
‘Look, if you're the person who keeps calling, I think you've got the wrong number. You need to check it and stop phoning this one. It's getting really annoying,’ she said.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when a bark of bitter laughter rang in her ear.
‘Who is this?’ she said.
But the laughter had been replaced by the drone of the ring tone. Whoever it was had hung up.
Poppy found the others stacking buckets ready to carry them down to the stream.
‘The water board is going to send someone out in the morning. They say if no-one has turned off the stopcock it's probably a leak. And since none of us know where the stopcock is, they're probably right,’ she said. ‘Oh, and there was another nuisance call, though this time I heard someone laughing. And when I dialled 1471 it was number withheld.’
‘I took one before breakfast,’ said Scarlett. ‘It's a bit creepy, isn't it? Do you think someone's trying to freak us out?’
Scott's face was scornful. ‘They'll have to try harder than that.’
Chapter Seven
Poppy collapsed in an exhausted heap in the shade of an apple tree. Opposite her a pink-faced Scarlett was grimacing as she stretched out her back.
‘I'm so sweaty,’ she moaned.
‘Horses sweat,’ Poppy corrected her. ‘Men perspire and ladies glow.’
‘Well, I'm glowing like a lightbulb at the moment. I'm shattered.’
It had taken the four of them a solid two hours of back-breaking work to fill all the water troughs and buckets. The stream had seemed a lot closer when they'd ridden past it. In fact it was a ten minute walk there and even longer on the way back with heavy buckets bumping against their shins and water sloshing all over their feet.
While Poppy had hefted buckets she'd mulled over the last couple of days and she had come to the conclusion that the series of unfortunate events to befall Redhall was no coincidence.
‘Scar, I think someone's trying to sabotage the riding school,’ she blurted out.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I know it sounds far-fetched but think about it. The nuisance calls. The delivery from Baxters' that no-one ordered. The lilies. Someone called the farrier to tell him not to come and it wasn't Bella.’
‘I think your imagination's gone into overdrive. Who on earth would want to harm the riding school?’
‘It's obvious isn't it? Who's in direct competition with Redhall? Who's going to benefit if Bella goes out of business?’
Scarlett gawped at her. ‘You don't mean -?’
‘Yes, I do,’ said Poppy. ‘Angela Snell.’
They heard the click of a gate. Sam was walking towards them with a couple of cans of lemonade.
‘Don't say anything yet,’ Poppy whispered to Scarlett. ‘We need to get some hard evidence before we accuse her of anything.’
‘How on earth are we going to do that?’
Poppy grinned. ‘Fancy a trip to Claydon Manor?’
‘But how will we get there?’
‘There are a couple of old bikes at the back of the hay barn. We'll ask Sarah if we can borrow them. And we'll go this evening.’
Poppy found Sarah in the kitchen stirring a huge saucepan of bolognese sauce. She glanced at the clock above the sink. ‘It'll only be another twenty minutes,’ she said.
‘It smells yummy. Sarah, you know those two old bikes in the barn?’
Sarah smiled. ‘I certainly do. They were mine and my brother's. Why?’
‘Scarlett and I wondered if we could go on a bike ride on them after dinner.’
Sarah dipped a teaspoon into the sauce, tasted it and added a pinch of oregano. ‘You don't have any cycling helmets.’
‘We could wear our riding hats,’ Poppy said.
‘Alright. As long as you promise to stick to the lanes and be back before it gets dark.’
‘I knew I shouldn't have had seconds, but Sarah's such a good cook. Her spaghetti was to die for. And now I'm absolutely stuffed,’ groaned Scarlett.
They pushed the two mountain bikes out of the barn. Poppy wheeled hers past Cloud's stable and peered in. He was pulling wisps of hay from his hayrack.
‘Hey baby,’ she called softly. He abandoned the hay and came over to say hello. She breathed in his familiar scent and sighed.
‘I wish I could stay here with you all evening, Cloud, but I've got to go. Things to do, people to see,’ she told him, kissing his nose. He nudged her and returned to his hay.
‘I used to pretend my first bike was a pony,’ she told Scarlett. ‘I used to practice my rising trot as I cycled round and round the park near our house. And when we got home I would poke handfuls of grass into the handlebars and offer it a bucket of water.’
Scarlett hooted with laughter. She looked down at Sarah's rusted pink Raleigh. ‘Let's pretend these are famous horses. It'll make the ride much more fun. Bags mine is Red Rum.’
‘Hello Black Beauty,’ Poppy said, patting the coal black frame of her bike. She clicked her tongue and pedalled off, Scarlett in close pursuit.
‘Trot on,’ Poppy shouted in her best riding instructor's voice. ‘On the left diagonal please, Scarlett. That's it. Up down, up down.’
The two friends circled the yard, their bikes wobbling dangerously as they bobbed up and down. Horses heads appeared over stable doors as they careered past. Poppy was giggling so hard her insides ached.
‘Come on Beauty,’ she cried, pedalling as fast as she could. ‘Let's race Red Rum to Claydon Manor!’
Twenty minutes later the two girls pulled onto the verge opposite a pair of grand wrought iron gates set in an imposing stone wall. To the right was a keypad on a metal post and set into the stone was a slate sign saying Claydon Manor.
‘Electronic gates,’ said Scarlett.
‘And CCTV,’ said Poppy, nodding towards a small camera on top of one of the huge gate posts.
‘How are we going to get in?’
Poppy reached into her backpack and pulled out a royal blue book.
‘I found Ariel's equine passport in Bella's office. I'm amazed Angela Snell didn't ask for it when they picked him up. Perhaps she's not quite as efficient as we think. We'll say Sam sent us over with it.’
Scarlett looked impressed. ‘Ingenious. Perhaps I'd better let you do the talking.’
‘There's a first time for everything,’ Poppy teased. ‘C'mon, let's press the buzzer.’
; They wheeled their bikes across the road and Poppy studied the keypad. ‘I guess it's the one with the bell on,’ she said, jabbing it with her index finger.
A tinny voice made them jump. ‘Who is this?’
Poppy cleared her throat. ‘It's, um, Poppy and Scarlett from Redhall. Sam sent us over. We've got Ariel's passport.’
An exasperated sigh emanated from the keypad and the gates clicked and began to swing open.
‘You'd better come in,’ said the voice.
Poppy and Scarlett pushed their bikes towards a beautiful grey stone Georgian manor house. Poppy's eyes were on stalks as she took in the sleek thoroughbreds grazing in immaculate paddocks on either side of the sweeping gravelled drive.
‘Wow,’ she said. ‘This is some place.’
‘Don't forget it was all down to a winning lottery ticket,’ said Scarlett, waving her hand dismissively. ‘They didn't earn it. They just got lucky.’
A figure was beckoning them from a stable block to the right of the house. Even from this distance Poppy recognised the prickly demeanour of Angela Snell.
‘So what are we looking for?’ Scarlett asked.
Poppy shrugged. ‘I'm not really sure. Anything that might link Snell or the Cannings to what's been happening at Redhall, I suppose.’
They set their bikes against a granite wall and walked over to Angela Snell. The livery yard manager held her hand out. Poppy gave her the passport.
‘Thanks,’ said Angela curtly. ‘I thought Vivienne had it.’
A whinny rang out across the cobbled yard.
‘It's Ariel,’ said Poppy. ‘Can we say a quick hello?’
Angela Snell sighed. ‘Just a quick one. I have work to do.’
The black gelding seemed pleased to see them and delicately ate the Polo Scarlett offered him.
‘Nice loose box,’ said Poppy, noticing the rubber matting, automatic water drinker and thick bed of shavings. ‘There's even a smoke alarm. No wonder Vile Vivienne wanted to move him here.’
Angela strode across the yard, checking her watch. ‘All done?’
‘Is Georgia around?’ asked Scarlett.
‘Why, are you friends?’ said Angela, surprised. Her eyes travelled over Scarlett's dishevelled appearance with barely disguised contempt.