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

by Amanda Wills

  ‘Let us know if you hear any news about Niamh,’ said Scarlett.

  Tia nodded. ‘And tell Bella to give me a ring once everything is back to normal.’

  They waved as the red people carrier drove off.

  ‘I don't think it ever will be,’ said Poppy.

  ‘Will be what?’ said Scott, appearing from the barn with a bale of hay in each hand.

  ‘Normal,’ said Poppy. ‘I don't think it'll ever be normal again.’

  Scott dropped the bales, sat down on one and motioned Poppy, Scarlett and Sam to do the same.

  ‘We need to talk about that,’ he said. ‘After I mucked out I searched the fields for barbed wire. I checked every fence and hedge. And do you know what?’

  ‘There isn't any,’ said Sam.

  ‘That's right, Samantha. There isn't any. So how did Treacle end up with barbed wire wrapped around his legs?’

  The other three were silent.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Scott, ‘it got me thinking about everything else that's been happening since Bella went up to Inverness. And I reckon it's too much of a fluke for it not to be connected.’ He paused for effect. ‘I think someone has a vendetta against Redhall.’

  Poppy exhaled loudly. Sam raised his eyes to the sky. Even Scarlett, for whom Scott could do no wrong, tutted loudly. He looked at them all in turn, confusion in his muddy brown eyes.

  ‘What is it?’

  Sam jumped to his feet. ‘We worked that out ages ago, super sleuth. The question is, what are we going to do about it?’

  ‘We need to put some simple security measures in place. I want to chain and padlock the field gates, make sure the office, tack room and barn are locked at all times - even if we're around - and I want us to take it in turns to check on the horses every couple of hours during the night.’

  Scarlett groaned. ‘You're kidding. I'm already shattered! Look at the size of the bags under my eyes! You could do a weekly supermarket shop with them, and I'm not joking.’

  ‘Sam and I'll do checks at midnight and two o'clock, and you two can do the four o'clock one. We're all up at six anyway.’

  Before Scarlett could reply the phone in Bella's office began ringing.

  ‘I'm not getting it,’ she said. ‘It'll be another one of those nuisance calls and they freak me out.’

  Poppy was about to get up and answer it when Scott jumped to his feet and headed for the office. But before he was halfway across the yard the ringing stopped. Seconds later Sarah appeared with a bag of carrots in one hand and the phone in the other.

  ‘It's a man called Stanley Smith from the Tavistock Herald,’ she said. ‘He wants to talk to someone about the riding school, so I suggested he speak to you, Scott.’ She held out the carrots.

  ‘I don't think that's going to work,’ he said.

  Sarah looked down and laughed. ‘Sorry. Try the phone.’

  Scott sat back down on the bale of hay and held the handset close to his ear. Poppy nudged Scarlett, who was grumbling about another broken night's sleep, pointed at Scott and held a finger to her lips. Stanley Smith, nicknamed Sniffer because of his nose for a good story, had once interviewed Poppy and her brother Charlie when they'd seen a big cat on the moor. Sniffer loved a bad news story above all else. Why did he want to speak to someone at Redhall? It didn't bode well.

  Scott chewed on a nail as he listened to Sniffer, his expression turning from curiosity to disbelief and then to outrage.

  ‘You've heard what? Who on earth told you that? No, it's not true! Yes, the vet was here, but that was to see one of the riding school ponies. No, he hasn't got strangles! He was cut by barbed wire. You need to get your facts straight before you start throwing around accusations like that, mate.’

  Scott shot up and began pacing across the yard. ‘What d'you think I mean? Someone's been feeding you a pack of lies. The yard isn't on shut down. We don't have strangles. And if you publish anything to suggest we have I will sue you. And that's not a threat, it's a promise.’

  Scott ended the call with an angry jab of his index finger and turned to face them. ‘Someone emailed the Herald this morning to say the yard was on shutdown after two of the ponies were diagnosed with strangles.’

  He sat down heavily on the hay bale and ran his hands through his hair.

  Sarah looked puzzled. ‘What's strangles?’

  ‘It's a super-contagious disease that affects horses' upper respiratory tracts, Mum,’ said Sam. ‘It can cause these really nasty pus-filled abscesses on the sides of their heads and their throats.’

  Sarah pulled a face. ‘Not sure I needed quite that much detail, thank you Sam. But none of the horses have strangles, do they?’

  Scott shook his head.

  ‘So what's the problem?’

  ‘Don't you see? All it needs is for a rumour to get out that there's a confirmed case and Redhall's future is on the line. The liveries Bella does have left will be out of here like a shot. People will be worried about coming here for shows. The place will be stigmatised. I know a livery yard that had an actual outbreak. The horses were quarantined and eventually all recovered. But the yard never did. It went out of business shortly after,’ said Scott.

  ‘Did Sniffer say who told him?’ Poppy asked.

  ‘An anonymous email was sent to the newsroom from a Hotmail account.’

  ‘No way of tracing it, I suppose,’ said Sam. ‘Is there anything we can do?’

  Poppy thought hard. They needed to be upfront and quash any rumours before they reached the liveries. ‘We should phone everyone and tell them what's happened before they hear anything themselves. If they need reassuring they can phone the vet. He'll be able to tell them why he was here last night.’

  Scott spent the next half an hour on the phone talking to Bella's few remaining liveries.

  ‘How did it go?’ asked Scarlett when he finally finished.

  ‘Debbie virtually had a meltdown and was threatening to pull Cherry and Otto from the yard. I did point out that if the rumour was true no other yard would touch her horses with a bargepole until we were clear of strangles anyway. And if it wasn't true there was no reason not to stay. She's going to phone the vet to check, but I think she'll probably stay. Ellie and Paint's owners were both fine. They've kept horses here for years and were more worried about who could be starting the rumour.’

  ‘Join the club,’ said Sam morosely.

  Poppy looked around at their worried faces. ‘Come on, let's go for a ride. Otherwise we'll end up going stir crazy, staying here and worrying about everything.’

  Scarlett's face brightened. ‘Can I ride Cherry?’

  Scarlett was already sitting on Cherry by the time Poppy led Cloud over to the mounting block. Scott was riding Otto and Sam was on Star. The two Connemaras, one as black as night, the other dappled grey, followed the bay and chestnut thoroughbreds out of the yard.

  Scarlett swung around in the saddle. ‘Let's head over towards Claydon Manor,’ she called.

  ‘She's obsessed,’ Poppy muttered to Sam.

  ‘There is a nice ride that goes past the manor house. It takes a couple of hours but we've got time,’ he said.

  ‘Perfect,’ said Scarlett. Soon she was chatting to Scott about his job at the showjumping yard. He was a great rider, Poppy had to admit. He sat tall and deeply in the saddle and had the lightest contact on Otto's reins. The big chestnut gelding's long, loping gait was relaxed as he strode out next to his stablemate.

  They turned off the road onto the moor and followed a dusty farm track. Cloud felt fresh and full of energy and every so often he snatched at his bit and broke into a jog. Cherry swished her black tail irritably whenever he came too close for comfort. They clattered along the track until they reached a farmyard. Cloud spooked at a rusty plough half buried by brambles and almost collided with Star.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Poppy. ‘He's a bit full of himself today.’

  ‘There's a great place for a gallop in a minute,’ said Sam. The track cut through two
fields of barley, which shimmered silver green in the sun. Scott looked back.

  ‘Ready?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Sam, tightening his reins. Even the perfectly-schooled Star was now jogging sideways up the path. Poppy nodded.

  The two thoroughbreds broke into a canter, Cloud and Star hot on their heels. Soon Cherry and Otto were galloping, their hooves thundering like racehorses in the Derby. Cloud lengthened his stride and Poppy crouched low over his neck as he raced to catch up with them. Star matched him stride for stride, their necks outstretched and their manes rippling in the wind. Cloud was strong and surefooted and Poppy felt a bolt of total euphoria that pasted a grin to her face and cancelled out all the worry of the last few days.

  The track cut through the barley and climbed the side of the valley. The four horses galloped up the hill, their tails flying.

  ‘Horse ahead!’ called Scott. He pulled Otto back into a canter and the others followed suit. Poppy looked up to see a palomino pony standing as still as a sentry on the brow of the hill. A girl in a candy pink teeshirt with matching silk was watching them intently, a hand to her forehead to shield the sun from her eyes. The four Redhall horses slowed to a walk. The girl spun her pony around and shrieked, ‘Stay away from us!’

  Poppy would have recognised that voice anywhere. ‘It's Georgia Canning!’

  ‘Why's she screaming at us?’ said Scarlett.

  Georgia and her pony were now only metres away. ‘I said stay away! You shouldn't even be out. It's totally irresponsible!’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Scott.

  Suddenly Poppy realised. ‘She thinks we've got strangles!’

  Scarlett was shocked. ‘But how can she? Only the person who emailed the Herald and that reporter know. Unless -’

  ‘-she or Angela were the ones who sent that email,’ finished Poppy.

  Georgia was still screeching at Scott, who was trying to get close enough to tell her that there was no strangles at Redhall.

  ‘I've had enough of this,’ said Scarlett. She cleared her throat and bellowed, ‘There's no strangles at Redhall!’ Cherry leapt about three feet into the air. Scarlett didn't bat an eyelid. Poppy wished yet again that she was half as good a rider as her best friend.

  Georgia narrowed her eyes and looked Scarlett up and down. ‘Why should I believe you?’

  ‘Do you really think we'd be mad enough to take the horses out if the yard was on shut down?’ Sam said scathingly.

  Georgia looked uncertain. Her pony stepped forward and whickered softly to Cloud. She caught Poppy's eye.

  ‘It really is true,’ said Poppy quietly. ‘The horses are all fine. But who told you?’

  Georgia shrugged. ‘I can't remember.’

  Scarlett tutted loudly.

  ‘Please tell us, Georgia. It's really important we find out who's spreading these rumours,’ Poppy said.

  Georgia stared down the valley towards Redhall. Something tugged at Poppy's memory. Something Bella had said about Georgia the day of the affiliated show, when Georgia had beaten Sam to second place.

  ‘Hey, I remember. You used to ride at Redhall, didn't you?’

  Georgia glanced at Poppy and gave a faint nod.

  ‘Gran taught you to ride, didn't she Georgia?’ said Sam. ‘Before your family came into all that money. She was always singing your praises. She loved that you were so single-minded and ambitious. In fact she didn't charge your mum for your lessons half the time, did she?’

  Poppy saw indecision behind Georgia's eyes and took advantage.

  ‘Redhall's in serious trouble. Someone's trying to put Bella out of business and we need to stop them before it's too late. Who told you about the strangles, Georgia?’

  ‘Angela,’ said Georgia finally. ‘She told me while I was tacking up Barley. She sounded -’

  ‘What did she sound?’ said Scarlett sharply.

  ‘She sounded pleased.’

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘I knew it!’ said Scarlett. ‘We need to ride straight to Claydon and have it out with her, right now.’

  ‘There's no point,’ said Georgia.

  Scarlett's eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She isn't there. It's her day off. She always drives down to Cornwall to see her parents. She passed me as I rode down the drive. She won't be back until late tonight.’

  The horses were growing impatient.

  ‘Which way are you going?’ Sam asked Georgia.

  ‘Home,’ she said, pointing to the track in front of them. ‘Mum helps me do the horses on Angela's day off but she needs me there to tell her what to do.’

  ‘Mind if we join you for a bit?’ Sam said.

  ‘I suppose not.’

  Poppy rode Cloud alongside Barley and began telling Georgia about all the things that had happened at Redhall since Bella had left for Inverness. Her china blue eyes widened when she heard about the wire around Treacle's legs.

  ‘I remember Treacle! He bucked me off into a puddle once. Is he OK?’

  ‘He'll be fine, but it could easily have been much worse. That's why we need to find out who's behind all this, so we can stop anything else happening.’ Poppy paused. ‘What's she like?’

  ‘Who, Angela?’

  Poppy nodded.

  ‘Driven, strict, demanding and really competitive. She's a perfectionist and she hates failure.’

  ‘So she would hate it if Claydon's livery yard wasn't a success?’

  Georgia nodded. ‘But there's one thing wrong with your theory. She may play to win, but she loves horses. She would never have hurt Treacle.’

  ‘Perhaps she didn't mean to. Perhaps she just left the barbed wire in the field as a warning? Perhaps the wire was already there and what happened to Treacle was a genuine accident and we've just assumed it was part of the vendetta.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ agreed Georgia. ‘But you won't be able to ask her until the morning.’

  They rode on in silence until they reached the far boundary of Claydon Manor's huge estate.

  ‘Please don't say anything to Angela. We'll come over in the morning,’ said Poppy.

  Georgia nodded briefly and turned Barley for home.

  ‘You two seem to have hit it off,’ said Scarlett. Poppy thought she could detect a touch of resentment in her best friend's voice, though Scarlett had tried to disguise it.

  ‘Not really. I was just pumping her for information,’ she said. She didn't add that she thought Georgia's haughty exterior was probably shielding a less confident person underneath and that the older girl had looked genuinely shocked when she'd told her about all the things happening at Redhall. If Angela Snell was behind the plot to bring down Bella's yard, Poppy was convinced Georgia Canning knew nothing about it.

  The yard was quiet when they finally arrived back an hour later.

  ‘All OK?’ Scott asked Sarah as she ladled spoonfuls of tomato soup into bowls and passed them around the kitchen table.

  ‘Not a hint of trouble,’ she confirmed.

  ‘Well, there wouldn't be, would there?’ said Scarlett. ‘That Snell woman's in Cornwall.’

  ‘We'll still padlock the gates and do the checks tonight, just to be on the safe side,’ said Scott.

  As Poppy did afternoon stables she could feel wave after wave of exhaustion sweeping over her. Her eyes felt gritty with tiredness and her limbs were sluggish. She longed to find a quiet corner in the hay barn and sleep for a week. When they sat down to eat Sarah's homemade cottage pie she couldn't stop yawning and after she'd helped Scarlett wash and dry up she announced that she was heading up to bed.

  ‘There's no point me staying to watch TV. I'll only fall asleep. I'll set the alarm on my phone for four o'clock, Scar.’

  ‘It doesn't need to take long,’ said Scott. ‘Just a quick check on the paddocks and stables to make sure everyone's where they should be and that the gates are locked and then you can go back to bed.’

  Poppy sank gratefully into bed and pulled the duvet under he
r chin. She had never felt so bone-tired in her life. She switched off her bedside lamp, curled up in a ball and was just drifting off to sleep when she realised with a start that she'd forgotten to set her alarm. She sat up abruptly, grabbed her phone from the bedside table and stared blearily at the screen.

  ‘Is it even light at four o'clock?’ she muttered to herself, tapping the tiny alarm clock icon and scrolling down until she'd reached 0400 hours. She turned the volume up as high as it would go and set the snooze button just in case. Satisfied the alarm was set, she placed her phone back on the bedside table and snuggled back down under the duvet. Seconds later she was asleep.

  That night Poppy dreamt she was riding Cloud bareback and without a headcollar across the moonlit moor. She wound her fingers around his mane, gripped with her knees and crouched low as he galloped through valleys and past tors towards Claydon Manor. As they grew close to the boundary of the manor house Poppy saw a huge yew hedge looming in front of her. Cloud lengthened his stride.

  ‘You can't jump it, it's too high!’ she cried, tugging his mane, terrified he was going to attempt to hurl himself over. At the last minute she saw a narrow opening the size of a doorway in the wall of yew. Cloud galloped through it without hesitating. They were flanked each side by walls of dark green foliage so high they blocked out the moonlight. Cloud slowed to a trot, and then to a walk. Poppy stared around wildly and shivered as the green walls seemed to close in around her.

  In a moment of clarity she realised they were in a giant maze. ‘We need to head for the centre,’ Poppy said. She knew it was vital they found the heart of the maze, although she had no idea why.

  She used her heels to guide Cloud left and right. They twisted and turned, hitting dead end after dead end. Soon they were completely lost and Poppy could feel panic rising.

  Just when she thought she couldn't stand any more Cloud stood stock still, sniffed the air and neighed. An answering whinny echoed around the walls of the maze. Poppy felt a shiver run down her spine. Cloud walked forwards purposefully and she sat quietly, letting him choose his route. Poppy became aware of a pearly glow ahead, like moonlight reflected on water. As they came closer the light became stronger, until it glowed as bright as magnesium. Poppy shielded her eyes. She knew they had almost reached the centre of the maze.