by Amanda Wills
‘Utter rubbish,’ Poppy told her undulating reflection. A second face appeared at her side and she shrieked.
‘Charlie! Don't creep up on me like that! You nearly gave me a heart attack!’
‘Thought you didn't believe in ghosts,’ he grinned.
‘I don't, you twit. You made me jump, that's all.’
‘If you say so,’ Charlie said, undoing the saddle bags. Poppy ran up her stirrups and loosened Cloud's girth. Looping his reins over the crook of her arm she sat cross-legged at the water's edge and caught the crumpled bag of crisps Charlie lobbed her way.
‘Chocolate spread and cheese?’ he asked, holding out a squashed-looking sandwich.
‘Don't you mean chocolate spread or cheese?’
Charlie shook his head. ‘Nope. Chocolate spread and cheese. I was going to make jam and ham, it had a nice ring to it, but I thought it might be a bit out there for you.’ He gave her a faintly patronising look, as if she was an aged auntie.
‘So you thought you'd go for the more traditional chocolate spread and cheese option,’ Poppy grimaced, taking the sandwich, which was wrapped in enough cling film to keep the entire contents of their fridge fresh.
‘You can be very narrow-minded sometimes, Poppy. You really need to broaden your horizons.’
She gave him a withering smile. ‘Thanks for the advice, little brother.’ Peeling back the sandwich, she sniffed it cautiously. ‘Gross,’ she grumbled, nibbling a corner. It was surprisingly tasty. Who knew?
‘It's not as bad as it sounds,’ she conceded, taking a huge bite.
Charlie smirked. ‘Told you so.’
After their picnic Poppy followed Charlie into the cottage. She left him poking around in the kitchen and headed up the rickety staircase. She was keen to see if Caitlyn had left anything else under the floorboards. Ducking her head, she entered the larger of the two bedrooms. She paused. Was it her imagination or did the room feel different somehow? She narrowed her eyes and tried to remember how it had looked on their last visit. The old hessian sack was still in the corner next to the broken floorboard Charlie had put his foot through. He had piled the two wooden crates on top of each other in front of the window. Poppy checked to see if the baby swallows were still in their nest in the eaves and smiled as she counted four orange beaks.
‘Should have saved you some of Charlie's sandwiches,’ she told them.
She kneeled on the floor, carefully prised open the broken floorboard and peered inside. A black beetle scuttled away, its antennae waving furiously. As it disappeared under a joist Poppy noticed a glint of metal. She reached in and pulled out a silver trophy. The silver had tarnished in places, but it was easy enough to read the inscription. South Devon Open Showjumping Competition. 1st place: Jodie Morgan and Nethercote Nero.
Charlie was outside with Cloud by the time Poppy had hidden the trophy under the floorboards and gone back downstairs. She tightened Cloud's girth, ran down his stirrups and swung into the saddle. She stared at the grimy bedroom window. Something about the room was niggling her.
‘Why did you move the crates?’ she asked Charlie finally.
He looked at her in confusion. ‘I didn't. I thought you must have.’
‘How could I? I went up after you.’ Poppy gave an involuntary shiver. ‘If I didn't move them, and you didn't move them, who did?’
Chapter Eight
Poppy and Charlie had emerged from the dark canopy of conifers when Charlie stopped pedalling and pointed straight ahead.
‘Someone's coming.’
Poppy halted Cloud and squinted into the sun. She could just about make out a chestnut-coloured blob in the distance. ‘It's only a Dartmoor pony.’
‘You need to get your eyes tested.’ Charlie reached in his pocket for his small birdwatching binoculars. ‘It's someone riding. Look.’
He handed the binoculars to Poppy. Charlie was right. A horse and rider were cantering towards them. The horse had four white socks and a flaxen mane and tail.
‘It's Red!’ Poppy exclaimed.
‘I thought you horsey people called it chestnut, like white is always grey?’ said Charlie.
‘No, you twit. It's Red. Scarlett's new horse. But what's he doing here?’ She trained the binoculars on the slim girl riding the chestnut gelding. She would have recognised the determined set of her shoulders a mile off. ‘And Jodie,’ she said, handing the binoculars back to Charlie.
‘Let's go and say hello.’
‘OK. But don't mention we've been to Witch Cottage,’ Poppy told him.
‘Er, why would I? It's our secret place.’
Red's flanks were dark with sweat as Jodie pulled him up a few metres from them.
‘What are you two doing here?’ she said warily.
‘Just out for a hack,’ said Poppy. ‘We took a picnic,’ she said, pointing to the saddlebags.
Jodie's face cleared. ‘It's a lovely day for it. I decided to make time for one last ride before Red goes to Scarlett's in the morning.’
‘She's beyond excited. She's spent hours getting everything ready for him. He's going to be treated like royalty,’ Poppy told her.
Jodie ran her hand down the gelding's neck. ‘King Red. It suits him.’
‘Are you heading back? We could ride with you some of the way.’
Red stretched his neck towards Cloud and gave a low whinny. The Connemara pricked his ears and whickered back. Jodie glanced briefly towards the belt of conifers and checked her watch.
‘Sure. Why not? I've got to get back for evening stables anyway. It'll give the boys a chance to get to know each other.’
Poppy smiled as Cloud and Red's noses touched. ‘I think they're going to get along just fine.’
That evening, after checking her dad, Caroline and Charlie were safely downstairs engrossed in an episode of Dr Who, Poppy closed her bedroom door, reached in her sock drawer and pulled out Caitlyn's diary. She sat on her wicker chair with a cushion on her lap and turned to the last entry.
I am sitting on the banks of the tarn as I write this, dangling my feet in the icy water. Cloud keeps trying to nibble my pen. Nero is dozing next to him and Jodie is watching the swallows feeding their babies in the nest in the eaves.
So now I've set the scene.
I feel both happy and sad. Is that even possible? Happy because Jodie and I have had a brilliant summer, riding, competing and just hanging out here at 'our' cottage together with the ponies away from the Annoying Parents. Sad because it's the last day of the summer holidays and this time on Monday I won't be daydreaming here by the tarn, I'll be sitting in a stuffy classroom bored out of my mind. Riding will have to fit in around school and homework and when I can persuade Mum to give me a lift up to Gran's. It sucks. The only thing I've got to look forward to is the hunter trial at Widecombe. Jodie's not doing it - it's showjumping or nothing for her - but she's promised to come and be my groom for the day.
Back to today. Jodie and I wanted to mark the cottage as our territory. Tigers wee or scratch the bark of trees. Not us! We decided to each leave something of ours here, to lay claim to it. So I'm going to leave my diary and Jodie's going to leave the trophy she won at the South Devon show. We've found a loose floorboard in the big bedroom and we're going to hide them under it. I wonder if anyone will ever find them??
So I'm signing off now. I was getting too old for diaries anyway. If I need to offload I tell Cloud. He's the official Keeper of my Secrets. LOVE that pony!!
It's so long from me. See ya on the other side! :)
Poppy stared at the smiley face until her vision blurred with tears. Caitlyn had been so excited about the hunter trial at Widecombe. She'd had no idea that catastrophic disaster lay around the corner. All it took was a slippery drop fence and a moment's loss of concentration and her fate was sealed. What if Cloud hadn't been spooked by the crowds? What if she hadn't decided to compete? What if it hadn't rained?
Poppy knew that worrying about the what ifs got you precisely nowhere, but even
so. Caitlyn would be the same age as Jodie now, and Cloud would still be hers, not Poppy's. She hid the diary back in her sock drawer and peered out of the window. Cloud and Chester were standing nose to tail by the gate, their tails swishing lazily. As if he had a sixth sense, Cloud lifted his head, saw her watching and whickered. Poppy brushed the tears from her cheeks. Did it matter that he'd been Caitlyn's first? For the first time in her life she realised she hadn't felt the usual dart of jealousy at the thought of Caitlyn and Cloud together. All she felt was intense sadness that Cait's future had been wrenched from her so cruelly.
Had Jodie acted as Caitlyn's groom that fateful day? Poppy pictured the brusque blonde girl standing with Tory and Cait's mum Jo on the sidelines, her hands full of grooming kit and bandages as she cheered horse and rider on as they'd galloped up to the drop fence, her eyes widening in horror as Cloud twisted in mid-air, lost his footing and somersaulted over, throwing Cait underneath him.
Poppy tried to imagine how she would feel if it was Scarlett tumbling to the muddy ground in a tangle of flailing limbs. It didn't bear thinking about. The image was so vivid she could almost hear the gasps of shock and the wail of sirens. She shivered. Poor Jodie. And poor Caitlyn.
Thoughts of the accident consumed Poppy's thoughts for the rest of the evening. It wasn't until she was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, that she remembered the wooden crates. Caitlyn and Jodie may have marked the cottage as their territory. But someone else had now muscled in.
Chapter Nine
‘So, what d'you think?’ Scarlett asked, chewing her bottom lip. ‘Is it good enough?’
Poppy surveyed the stable next to Blaze's. Up until a couple of days ago it had been used to store farm machinery and spare feed troughs. Every inch had been scrubbed and swept. Scarlett had laid a thick bed of straw and filled the hay rack with new hay. Two water-filled buckets stood in old rubber tyres. There was even a mineral lick attached to the ring by the door. Scarlett was hopping from one foot to the other. Poppy had never seen her look so nervous.
‘It looks awesome!’ she said. ‘You've done a brilliant job. Jodie's going to be super impressed and Red's going to love it.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘'Course I'm sure. What time are they due?’
‘Ten o'clock. What time is it now?’
Poppy checked her watch. ‘Quarter to.’
Scarlett groaned. ‘Fifteen whole minutes! That's ages.’
‘Come on, let's groom Blaze and Flynn. It'll pass the time.’
At ten past ten they heard the rattle of Jodie's Land Rover and trailer as it negotiated the potholed farm drive. Scarlett dropped the body brush and curry comb she'd been holding and clutched Blaze's neck in excitement.
‘Oh my God, they're here! I must go and tell Mum.’
Poppy smiled indulgently as her best friend sprinted towards the back door. Jodie parked the Land Rover and jumped out.
‘All ready for King Red?’ she asked.
Poppy grinned, curtseyed and gestured to the immaculate stable. ‘His palace awaits, ma'am. I'm surprised Scarlett didn't manage to find a roll of red carpet for his majesty.’
Jodie glanced inside and raised her eyebrows. ‘I see what you mean. I think we can safely say Scarlett's passed the home visit. It puts Nethercote to shame. Red won't know he's born.’
Scarlett appeared, followed closely by Pat, who was carrying a tray laden with mugs of tea and a chocolate cake.
‘Hello Jodie love. I thought I'd bake a cake to celebrate Red's arrival,’ Pat said, setting the tray on the bonnet of the Land Rover. Jodie pulled down the ramp of the trailer, unloaded Red and handed Scarlett his lead rope.
The chestnut gelding's head was high and his nostrils flared as he took in his new surroundings.
‘Red, I'd like to introduce you to Flynn,’ said Scarlett. Flynn turned his head briefly and returned to his haynet, unimpressed by the new arrival. ‘And this is Blaze.’ Blaze and Red blew into each other's nostrils, their ears pricked. Blaze squealed loudly, throwing one hoof in the air. ‘Be nice!’ Scarlett scolded her.
‘It's probably a good idea not to turn them out together for a couple of days. Let them get used to each other,’ said Jodie.
She and Scarlett settled Red into his pristine stable while Pat cut generous slices of cake.
Jodie poked her head over the stable door. ‘Poppy, can you get the adoption certificate? It's on the passenger seat.’
Poppy heaved open the heavy door of the Land Rover. The seat was covered in sweet wrappers, loops of baler twine, empty wormer packets and unopened envelopes that looked suspiciously like bills. She rummaged through the detritus, finding what she was looking for at the bottom. As she tugged on the sheet of white card bearing the Nethercote logo and the words Certificate of Adoption she dislodged Jodie's iPhone and it slid into a gap between the seat and the gearstick.
Sighing, Poppy stretched her arm into the gap and grabbed the phone. It beeped. She dropped it in surprise and it slithered right under the seat.
‘Damn,’ she muttered, tucking her hair behind her ears and feeling for the phone again. This time she pulled it out and without thinking scanned the text on the home screen.
Delivery tonight. Leave cash as agreed. Used notes or deal's off. You have been warned.
A voice behind Poppy made her start.
‘Did you find it?’
Poppy shoved the phone back under the envelopes and sweet wrappers and smiled brightly at Jodie.
‘Here it is!’
‘Great. Let's celebrate with a slice of cake and then I must be off. There's somewhere I need to be.’
Charlie was smacking a golf ball around the garden with one of their dad's old five irons when Poppy arrived home.
‘Guess what?’ he said, his tongue between his teeth as he flexed his knees and lined up for a shot.
‘Tiger Woods has asked you to take his place in next year's Open Championship?’
‘Ha ha, very funny.’ Charlie lifted the club and swung at the ball. Shielding his eyes, he scanned the sky. ‘Where did it go?’ he asked, puzzled.
‘It's still there.’ Poppy pointed at his feet.
He stared at the pitted white ball nestling in the grass. ‘Oh.’ He took another swipe. They both watched as the ball sailed in a graceful arc, smashing the glass on one of Caroline's cold frames. Charlie's face paled.
‘You are going to be in so much trouble,’ Poppy told him.
He thought for a moment, worry lines creasing his forehead. Then his face cleared. ‘I know! I'll mend it with Dad's Super Glue.’
‘I'm not sure that's going to work. Anyway, what were you going to tell me?’
Charlie pointed the club at the sky.
Poppy sighed. ‘What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?’
‘The moon,’ said Charlie. ‘The full moon,’ he added dramatically.
Poppy looked again. There, peeping behind a cloud almost apologetically, as if it had turned up to a party uninvited, was the muted, perfectly spherical face of the moon.
‘And?’ said Poppy, bemused.
Charlie looked left and right to check no-one was in earshot, then whispered furtively, ‘We can go to Witch Cottage and see if the legend is true.’
‘What, Scarlett's supernatural claptrap about the old crone and Marmalade and the burning cloak?’ Poppy scoffed. ‘Of course it's not true!’
‘It's Marmaduke actually, and how can you be so sure?’
‘Because there are no such things as ghosts or witches, Charlie. It's an old wives' tale, I promise you.’
Charlie nodded to himself. ‘I might have known.’
‘Might have known what?’ she said sharply.
‘That you'd claim it was rubbish because really you were too frightened to go.’
Poppy bristled. ‘I am not! Alright then, if it means that much to you we'll go. We'll wait until Dad and Caroline are asleep and ride Cloud over together. Happy now?’
Charlie whooped an
d sprinted towards the house, the golf club and shattered cold frame forgotten. As she watched him go, Poppy had the distinct impression she had been played like the proverbial fiddle by a master manipulator.
Chapter Ten
The sky was a deep indigo as Poppy and Charlie crept out of the house and headed for the stables. After waiting so patiently the moon had taken centre stage and was glowing with pearlescent luminosity, encircled by a smattering of glittering stars.
Cloud was dozing at the back of the stable he shared with Chester, but lifted his head and whickered when he heard the bolt slide open. Poppy offered them a handful of pony nuts, slipped on Cloud's bridle and led him into the yard. Charlie handed Poppy her riding hat and fastened up the straps of his cycling helmet.
‘You'll be fine as long as you hold on tight,’ she whispered, leading Cloud over to the low stone wall she used as a mounting block. ‘I'll get on first.’
Once she was satisfied Charlie was safely on and his arms were wrapped around her waist, she clicked her tongue and turned Cloud towards the moor.
The Connemara was as excited as Charlie about their night-time adventure and jogged up the track towards the Riverdale tor. Poppy could feel her brother's warm breath on the back of her neck as she eased her pony back into a walk.
‘You OK?’ she asked.
‘You bet!’ he cried. ‘This is awesome!’
Charlie had brought his digital camera, convinced he was going to snap a shot of the old witch as she glided around the banks of the tarn. Poppy had slipped her mobile in her back pocket, just in case. Adventures with her brother often ended up with a trip to accident and emergency. She wanted to be prepared.