by Amanda Wills
Perhaps she could try sending him a telepathic message. Poppy didn't believe in that type of thing but surely anything was worth a try?
‘Come back to me, Cloud,’ she whispered, willing her thoughts to span the wide expanse of Dartmoor between her and her beloved Connemara. She sent message after message, pleading with him to hear.
But there was no clatter of hooves on the concrete, no whicker of recognition. She knew she was wasting her time. Cloud had gone and he wasn't coming back.
She thought about their visit to Claydon Manor that afternoon. Poppy felt bad that she'd ever blamed Angela Snell for the vendetta against Redhall. As they'd left Claydon they'd bumped into Georgia, who confirmed that the livery yard manager had arrived home just after nine o'clock. The pair were either telling the truth or they deserved Oscars for their performances. Poppy believed them, anyway. That hadn't stopped Scarlett's lips curling in disbelief when she'd told Scarlett and Sam as they'd ridden home. Scarlett was still convinced of their guilt.
Poppy took a sip of her tea and listened to the sounds of the yard. Horses shifting in their stables, the rustle of straw, the steady breathing of Blaze next door as the mare settled down to sleep. The sounds were soporific and Poppy felt her own eyelids grow heavy. Before long she had nodded off.
Poppy awoke to the oddest sensation that someone was in the stable with her. She froze. What if it was the intruder, come to finish what he'd started? What if he was towering over her right now, his bulk obscuring the shafts of moonlight that had cast a friendly glow over Cloud's stable? Poppy realised her best option was to pretend to still be asleep. At least she would have the element of surprise. She kept her eyes squeezed tight and tried to marshal her groggy thoughts. Stupidly she'd left her phone on her bedside table and the nearest pitchfork was in the barn, which was no use at all. She inched her hand towards the mug in the straw beside her. It was the only thing she had at her disposal. She decided to throw it at the intruder and make a run for it.
Poppy was so focused on her escape plan that at first she didn't notice the draught of warm breath on her cold cheek. She didn't register the feather-like tickle of whiskers against her earlobe. Her fingers curled around the handle of the mug and she drew it close to her chest. And then, in the silence of the stable, a pony whickered softly. Her eyes snapped open.
There, standing in front of her, his face centimetres from her own, was Cloud. Poppy wondered if he was an apparition, an image conjured up by her deep longing for him. She reached out to touch him, half-convinced he would disappear, wraith-like, in a puff of smoke. But the tips of her fingers met warm horse. He stepped forward and gave her the gentlest of nudges. Finally allowing herself to believe he really was there, Poppy jumped to her feet and threw her arms around his neck as tears streamed down her face.
‘Oh Cloud, I thought I was never going to see you again. But you came back.’
He nibbled the pocket of her fleece and Poppy rested her face against his, delighting in the feel of his soft coat against her skin. She realised she should never have questioned the bond between them. Cloud must love her as much as she loved him.
She gazed into his deep brown eyes. ‘You could have gone back to Riverdale. But you didn't. You came back to me.’
The next morning Poppy and Scarlett free-wheeled into the Baxters' car park and propped their bikes against a green bottle bank. Normally Poppy loved wasting half an hour in the cavernous shop, drinking in the smell of new leather and inspecting the displays of riding gear and equipment, but today her stomach was churning.
‘What's the plan? Shall I cause a diversion while you try and slip behind the counter?’ whispered Scarlett.
Poppy shrugged helplessly. ‘I guess. Although I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be looking for.’
‘All Dad's invoices from Baxters' have his contact phone number on. See if you can log into the computer, open Redhall's account and find Monday's invoice.’
Poppy swallowed. ‘You make it sound easy, Scar. What if I get caught?’
‘Look,’ she said, waving her arm. ‘The car park's deserted. They only ever have one member of staff on at this time of the afternoon. If it's Tanya we'll be fine. She can talk for England. I'll keep her busy while you do the business. And if anyone sees you behind the counter just pretend you dropped your phone or something.’
Poppy frowned. It didn't sound like much of a plan. But, she realised, it was the only one they had.
‘Alright, here goes.’
She pushed open the double doors and stepped in. Scarlett nodded towards the dark-haired girl sitting behind the counter and gave Poppy a surreptitious thumbs up.
‘Tanya!’ she cried. ‘Haven't seen you for ages. How's things?’
‘Hi Scarlett. What brings you here?’
‘Mum and Dad sent me over to choose a new hat for my birthday. Dad said to stick it on his account.’
Poppy raised her eyebrows. Scarlett's birthday was in May, a cool ten months away.
‘Sure,’ said Tanya. ‘Let me just finish this and I'll come over and measure you up.’
Tanya tapped away at the computer keyboard in front of her and, with a couple of clicks of the mouse, the printer chugged into life, spewing out an invoice. She tore it off and opened the middle drawer of a metal filing cabinet behind her. Poppy watched as Tanya's fingers walked along the files until she found the one she was looking for. She pulled the cardboard folder out, slid the invoice inside, replaced the folder and pushed the drawer closed with her backside.
‘Right,’ said Tanya, lifting the hinged counter open. ‘The hats are over there.’ She pointed to the far corner of the shop, where a couple of dozen hats were on display on wooden shelving units.
‘I'm just going to have a look for a card for Caroline's birthday,’ said Poppy, edging over to a wire carousel beside the counter.
‘Help yourself,’ smiled Tanya. ‘So Scarlett, do you want a hat for hacking or are you going to be using it for competitions as well?’
Poppy pretended to scan the arty horse cards and Thelwell cartoons while Tanya and Scarlett disappeared to the back of the shop. After a couple of minutes she glanced up. Tanya was standing with her back to Poppy, holding a tape measure around Scarlett's head. Scarlett caught Poppy watching and winked.
Poppy realised this could be her only chance. She darted behind the counter and stared at the computer screen. It was on the Baxters' home page. Poppy pressed enter and groaned inwardly when she was asked for a password. She tried 1234 and 4321 and then Baxters1234 and Baxters4321, but the computer stubbornly refused her entry. She could hear Tanya murmuring about the new regulations governing riding hats. Poppy abandoned the computer and turned to the filing cabinet. Four drawers, the first marked A-G, the second H-M. Poppy eased open the third, marked N-S, and looked wildly for Redhall. But there was no folder for the riding school. Sure she must have missed it, Poppy checked again. Still nothing.
She thought hard. Maybe the invoices were kept under Bella's name. She slid the third drawer closed and opened the bottom one, marked T-Z. There were five files marked Thompson and Poppy cursed Bella for having such a popular name. Adrenalin coursed through her veins as she pulled out each file and checked inside.
As Poppy pulled out the second to last file she risked a look over her shoulder. Tanya and Scarlett were still deep in conversation, Tanya holding a mirror as Scarlett modelled a skullcap with an emerald green silk. Poppy opened the file.
Bella Thompson
Redhall Manor Equestrian Centre
Bingo.
‘So you found the latest invoice?’ Scarlett whispered as they pushed their bikes across the car park.
Poppy nodded.
‘And there was a mobile number on it?’
Poppy waved her hand in Scarlett's face. ‘I couldn't find a piece of paper so I wrote it on my hand. It's definitely not Bella's number. I've just checked.’
‘Don't forget it's there and go and wash your hands,’ Scarlett cautioned.
‘Do I look stupid?’ said Poppy hotly. The adrenalin that had helped her through her spying mission was now threatening to bubble into ill temper.
‘No need to bite my head off.’
‘Sorry.’ Poppy gave her best friend a brief smile. ‘What did you tell Tanya?’
‘That I couldn't make my mind up and that I would come back next time Dad's over. She seemed to buy it. Shall we try the number now?’
Poppy checked her phone. ‘No signal.’
They jumped on their bikes and began pedalling slowly towards Redhall. At the top of a particularly steep climb Poppy called Scarlett to stop.
‘I've got two bars. Shall we give it a go?’
They collapsed on the verge and Scarlett grabbed Poppy's hand.
‘I'll read you the number.’ She screwed up her face. ‘Is that a seven or a nine?’
Poppy squinted at the smudged biro scrawl on the back of her hand. She'd scribbled it down so quickly it was almost illegible.
‘Um, a nine I think.’
Poppy dialled as Scarlett read out the number. She felt a flutter of nerves as she waited for the call to connect.
‘Put it on speakerphone,’ Scarlett said urgently. Poppy nodded and pressed the speakerphone icon.
A woman's robotic voice cut through the summer afternoon. ‘Your call cannot be completed as dialled. Please check the number and try again.’
Poppy groaned. ‘I must have written the number down wrong.’
‘Try a seven instead,’ Scarlett said.
Poppy re-dialled.
This time the call connected. Time slowed down as the phone rang. Poppy realised she was clutching Scarlett's arm in a vice-like grip. On the fourth ring, just as she was beginning to lose hope, someone picked up.
A gruff voice. ‘Hello?’
The two girls were silent.
‘Who is this?’ The voice sounded irritated. ‘I said, who's calling?’
Poppy panicked. ‘Er, sorry. Wrong number,’ she cried, and ended the call.
Back at Redhall they found Sam mucking out Treacle's stable. He listened in silence as they relayed what had happened.
‘So we're no nearer to finding out who phoned in that order,’ Poppy said glumly.
Sam stared into the middle distance. ‘I've had an idea. It might not work, but it's worth a try. Follow me.’
He crossed the yard to Bella's office, tipped Harvey Smith gently off the office chair and booted up the laptop.
‘What was the number?’ he said.
Poppy checked her call log and read out the eleven digit number. ‘What are you going to do,’ she asked.
‘Put it into Google and see if it comes up with anything. You never know.’
They watched as Sam tapped in the number and pressed search. He hit the top result. A website for a building firm slowly opened.
‘Another dead end,’ sighed Scarlett.
Sam's hand hovered over the mouse, ready to click away from the page.
But Poppy had seen something the other two had missed. She pointed to the bottom right hand corner of the screen.
‘Of course,’ she muttered, replaying the events of the past week in her mind's eye. ‘It's completely obvious. How can we have been so blind?’
Chapter Fifteen
The door to the office swung open and the silhouette of a man appeared. Poppy jumped out of her skin and Scarlett smothered a small scream.
‘Three guilty faces if ever I saw some,’ said Scott, perching on Bella's desk. ‘What's up?’
‘You wouldn't believe us if we told you,’ said Poppy.
‘Try me.’ Scott yawned widely, showing his chipped tooth. ‘But you'd better be quick. I was going to sneak forty winks before evening stables.’
‘Some things never change,’ said Sam drily. ‘Poppy and Scarlett went over to Baxters' this afternoon and managed to get the mobile number of the person who made that massive order. And it's him.’
Scott studied the computer screen and looked back at them.
‘Am I missing something here?’
‘It's a building company. Owned by Gordon Cooper,’ said Scarlett.
Scott shook his head. ‘Er, still none the wiser.’
‘Gordon Cooper,’ said Poppy patiently. ‘Owner of Cooper Construction.’
Scott shrugged.
‘Never heard of him.’
‘He's Niamh's dad.’
Scott grabbed his helmet and was threatening to race over to the offices of Cooper Construction to confront Gordon Cooper.
‘We know that he made that order, but we can't prove he did anything else, Scott. Not yet, anyway,’ said Poppy.
‘You were sure the intruder you saw was a man, weren't you?’ said Scarlett. ‘Even though I didn't want to believe you at the time.’
‘And cutting through the water pipe wouldn't be a problem for a builder, would it?’ said Sam.
‘All circumstantial though, isn't it?’ said Poppy. ‘We need proof.’
‘But how are we going to get that?’ Scarlett asked.
Poppy gave a helpless shrug of her shoulders. ‘I don't know.’
The dinner table was quiet that night, everyone lost in their own thoughts. They'd decided not to tell Sarah about their discovery - not until they had some concrete proof that Gordon Cooper was behind the vendetta. When the phone rang half way through Sarah's mouth-watering apple pie they held their breath as Sarah picked up the phone in the lounge, wondering if it was yet another nuisance call. Poppy felt her shoulders relax when Sarah walked in, a smile on her face.
‘That was Mum. Great Auntie Margaret's settled in a nursing home for some respite care until she's back on her feet and Mum's decided to come home. She's setting off shortly and is going to drive through the night. I told her to wait until tomorrow but she insisted. She should be home just after breakfast.’
‘Did you tell her about all the things that have been happening?’ said Sam.
Sarah shook her head. ‘I decided there was no point worrying her. We'll fill her in when she's back. Anyone for seconds?’
Later, when Sarah had gone to bed, they discussed what to do.
‘I vote we do hourly checks tonight. I'll pair up with Scarlett and you two can go together,’ said Scott.
Scarlett's face flushed with pleasure. ‘That's a great idea.’
But Poppy wasn't going to rely on hourly checks while Gordon Cooper was still at large. ‘There's no way I'm leaving Cloud tonight, after everything that's happened. I'm sleeping in his stable,’ she announced.
Sam nodded. ‘I'm with Poppy on this. I'll bring my duvet down and sleep in Star's stable.’
Scott looked at them both in amusement. ‘You are more than welcome to hunker down with your horses. I, however, need my beauty sleep so I'm afraid I won't be joining you. And if you two are spending the night in the yard you won't need me and Scarlett to do our rounds, will you?’ He rubbed his hands together in satisfaction.
Poppy could see the indecision in her best friend's hazel eyes. Scarlett loved her sleep and she idolised Scott but would she risk anything happening to Blaze? Poppy didn't think so.
She was proved right when Scarlett finally stood up and said: ‘Looks like it's a night in the stable then.’
The horses looked on with curiosity as Poppy, Scarlett and Sam dragged their duvets and pillows across the yard and into the three stables. Cloud was the only one who wasn't surprised - at home Poppy often slipped down to his stable in the early hours if she'd been woken by a nightmare and couldn't get back to sleep.
They inspected each other's makeshift beds.
‘Looks cosy,’ said Sam. ‘So, have you both got torches and your mobile phones?’
‘Yes sir!’ said Poppy, saluting. Scarlett giggled.
Sam sighed. ‘I'm just trying to be practical. And we'll text each other if we hear or see anything?’
The girls nodded.
‘Is there anything else we should do?’ said Poppy.
Scarl
ett clapped her hands. ‘I know! We could set some booby traps.’
Sam looked at her as if she was mad, but Poppy's mind was whirring.
‘You're right. You know that roll of electric fence wire in the hay barn?’ The other two nodded. ‘Why don't we lay it along the front gate so when he goes to open it he gets an electric shock?’
Scarlett grinned evilly. ‘Oh yes, I'm loving that idea. And we could arrange those bits of barbed wire he so kindly left on the driveway so he gets a puncture.’
‘Neat,’ Poppy said. ‘What about tying together baler twine to make a trip wire? We could fix it just inside the gate.’
Scarlett nodded vigorously. ‘And I could do the old Tom and Jerry classic and leave a couple of rakes on the ground. With any luck he'll stand on one and whack himself on the head.’
Sam's eyebrows were raised as he looked from one girl to the other. ‘Remind me never to get on the wrong side of you two. You're reprobates.’
‘He won't be getting anything more than he deserves,’ said Poppy grimly.
Half an hour later their traps were laid. After Sam had positioned the strands of barbed wire Scott had cut from Treacle's legs across the drive like a police stinger device, he'd wrapped the electric wire tightly around the latch and top bar of the five bar gate and plugged it in. Poppy had tied together a dozen lengths of baler twine and fixed them between two fence posts a few paces into the yard. When she gave the taut orange twine a tug it gave a satisfying twang. Scarlett spent ages arranging and re-arranging the three rusty rakes she'd found languishing in the back of the hay barn.