Phantom Horse 5: Phantom Horse – Island Mystery

by Christine Pullein-Thompson

  Jane was being coached for exams in November. Like Angus she had failed her maths. Her parents were separated and neither wrote nor telephoned. Jon was learning English, but spent much of his time studying the rocks on the island. He seemed to have no permanent home. Hans was learning English, too; he seemed earnest and polite, the sort of person who always made his bed and never forgot to wash behind his ears. Sometimes he would sit on the rocks with me and tell me about Germany.

  Days passed like this. Then one fine morning I hacked Phantom alone. Caroline watched me go, calling, “Stick to the tracks. Don’t do anything silly,” as though I was just a kid of nine or ten.

  “Okay, don’t worry,” I called back over my shoulder, and then rudely, “I have hacked by myself before.”

  Everything seemed very still. There wasn’t even a breeze, not a cloud in the sky, not a boat on the sea. I pretended the island was mine, that I was queen over everything – Queen of Uaine. Then I thought about the people, about how we had come from different parts of the world and all ended up on Uaine and how strange it was. Then I saw a cottage. Small and white, it stood by the shore. It was one storey with a simple, thatched roof and two small windows and a door; nothing else. A terrier barked. There was smoke coming from a chimney and the smell of burning peat. Then a couple came outside and the man asked, “And who would you be? It is not often we have visitors.”

  “I’m Jean,” I said. “And this is Phantom.” The man was young and bearded, with a neat chin and red cheeks; the woman was young, too, and pregnant.

  “Ian and Morag Macgregor,” he said. They held out their hands and we shook solemnly.

  “Are you from the big hoose, then?” asked Mr Macgregor.

  I nodded.

  “A terrible place,” said his wife. “Wicked to be sure, as wicked as they come. That Mr Carli should be put away.”

  “I don’t understand,” I answered. “They’ve treated me all right.”

  “You will be paying though; money makes a difference,” she said.

  “He should never have had the place; the old laird looked after us all and the puir creatures too. Now the sheep are dying for want of care and the old people are all gone,” said Mr Macgregor, patting Phantom. “But then money is the root of all evil and it is with money he bought the island, more’s the pity, and now we are all done for, though why he wanted it I canna ken – but what do you know about such men, you so young …?”

  “The school is good, it has good teachers,” I said, “and it’s lovely being here. But I must go now.” I turned to leave.

  “Aye, it’s lovely all right,” he called, “or it was before he came.”

  “I’m sorry,” I shouted over my shoulder. “Very sorry.”

  On the way back I stopped to look at some goats cropping the peaty grass. They were heavily bearded and dirty-white in colour; wiry, peaceful and unafraid. So all the people have gone, I thought. Mr Carli didn’t want them. Only the Macgregors are left and she will have to go somewhere to have her baby.

  I pushedPhantom into a walk again and started to think how Uaine must have been once, with the cottages full of islanders and perhaps the sound of bagpipes in the evening and the smell of smoking fish on the air; and children everywhere – Highland children. But there must have been bad things too, I thought, as we reached the square; no sanitation, the same old food week after week, cousins marrying cousins.

  Caroline was waiting for me.

  “I met a couple in a cottage by the seashore,” I said, dismounting. “They don’t seem very happy.”

  “Ah, the Macgregors. They’ll soon be gone,” she said, running up my stirrups.

  “Were there lots of people here when Mr Carli came?” I asked.

  “About a dozen,” she said. “They never paid any rent to the old laird, and their cottages were like pigsties. Father is going to get the best of the cottages done up and then we’ll let them in the summer. But he did not turn out the people, they went of their own accord.”

  I didn’t say anything as we brushed out Phantom’s saddle mark together.

  “Are you happy here?” asked Caroline.

  “Yes, thank you,” I said, but I still wasn’t sure. In spite of Mr Carli’s efforts, the island seemed a sad place, as though secretly it was weeping for the days gone by.

  Towards evening, the weather changed, flies swarmed in the bracken, midges hovered like moving clouds.

  “I’m actually learning something,” Angus told me, sitting in my sumptuous bedroom after dinner. “My maths teacher, Mr Matheson, is a really good teacher. He once taught at Eton. He’s better than I thought.”

  “And I’m learning too,” I answered. “I’m going to write to Mum and Dad tonight to tell them so.”

  “Excellent, then I needn’t,” replied Angus, laughing.

  “All the same, I have reservations. I have a nasty feeling in my bones,” I continued.

  “Too much riding,” Angus joked.

  “I have the feeling that there’s something wrong. I don’t know why. I like Caroline, but like everyone else she seems to be under some sort of spell,” I said.

  “It’s your imagination,” answered Angus.

  “Can’t you feel it? Even Maria is not quite right. This house is like a stage set. We’re all actors.”

  “Now I know you’re mad,” exclaimed Angus.

  I stared out across the bay. A mile away lay Scotland.

  “Everyone’s gone except the Macgregors. The houses are empty. It’s so sad,” I cried. “There should be men fishing; the sheep should be sheared. It’s all wrong somehow.”

  “Mr Carli has other plans. He wants to make this into an island paradise. This is only the beginning. By next year there will be chalets – rows of them – a caravan site perhaps, and new stables. You know what he said, and change is never popular. I went up to the airstrip today. There are two three-seater planes there. I’m going to ask whether I can learn to fly,” said Angus.

  “It will go on the bill,” I answered.

  “I’ll pay myself. I’ve got enough money. There’s a hangar up there with a bigger plane inside; the one Phantom came in, fitted out for horses. Maria says it’s for the Carli stud. She says they use it for flying in supplies, too. She gave me a delicious drink last night, a lime and soda,” said Angus.

  “You and Maria!” I exclaimed.

  Mr Carli was crossing the bay in a speedboat, with foam lying like sudden snow in his wake.

  “He’s a playboy really,” said Angus, looking over my shoulder. “Wouldn’t you like to have all his money?”

  “I don’t know, but I do know that if I owned this island I would look after the sheep, the cattle and the people who were here before me,” I said.

  “Perhaps they didn’t want to be looked after,” replied Angus.

  “I hate sitting next to him. He always asks about my riding. How was it today? Am I progressing? And Jane sits on the other side like a great lump of suet pudding staring at me with those huge, soulful eyes, wishing he would talk to her. It’s awful!” I exclaimed.

  “You’re too sensitive,” said Angus. “Try to like everyone, that’s my motto.”

  “I’m going to study my book on dressage, then I’m going to bed,” I told Angus. “I’m sorry, I’m probably just a bit homesick. I’ll have a bath – that always cheers me up.”

  The bath water ran very slowly. By the time I was in bed it was dark outside. I think I fell asleep at once.

  I dreamed I was in an aeroplane.

  “All bale out … jump!” shouted a thin man with ginger hair.

  “What about parachutes?” I asked.

  “There aren’t any. Grab anything heavy. Hang on to it,” shouted a stout woman in a tweed skirt; then I was awake and Angus was standing over me in his pyjamas, saying, “Come and look, they are landing horses on the airstrip.”

  “It’s a dream,” I muttered, sitting up.

  “It isn’t. It’s real.”

  I crept along the
passage after Angus, floorboards creaking and moonlight dancing on the walls. Angus’s curtains were drawn back and outside there was an aircraft and lights which had not been there before.

  “It came in over the sea. I was awake. Then I saw the horses coming out, and I thought you would be interested.” Angus picked up Grandpa’s binoculars. “There’s Caroline,” he said. “And Mr Carli and Maria and two strangers. One’s a woman.”

  “Perhaps they are stallions and mares from Russia,” I suggested.

  “Oh, very likely! That plane couldn’t fly more than a few hundred miles without refuelling,” said Angus contemptuously.

  “Anyway, it’s none of our business,” I said.

  “They are leading them down the track to the square; they’re out of sight now,” Angus said, handing me the binoculars.

  There was nothing to be seen but the hills and the lights being switched off on the airstrip.

  “I hope I can ride them,” I said.

  I went back to bed, but I did not sleep. I heard the clock downstairs chime three. I heard Phantom neighing, and doors slamming and Mr Carli saying, “All right, Maria? Have a drink, George, you deserve it.”

  And I could find no reason for horses to be landed on the island at night, or only one – a need for secrecy.

  At seven o’clock I dressed and ran down to the square. The main stable door was padlocked. Phantom had been turned out with Lassie in the lower meadow. There was no sign of Caroline. There were ships fishing far out in the bay. As I watched I saw Jacques bringing the ferryboat into the jetty. Shortly afterwards he walked to the house, carrying a canvas bag, his head bent against the wind. Suddenly the hills seemed cold and barren and the grey sea icy and without mercy.

  I met Caroline as I walked back for breakfast. “What happened to the horses?” I asked.

  “What horses?”

  “The ones which came in the night.”

  She stared at me for a moment before she answered. “They’re in quarantine. They were found to have something wrong with them. It was either complete isolation or a bullet in their heads, so they came here.”

  “Are they very infectious?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, but their vet came with them,” she answered. “They seem all right but they have been in contact with a deadly virus.”

  “Poor things,” I said. “How long will they be here?”

  “I don’t know, one week, two weeks, it all depends. See you later; we’re going to work on two tracks this morning,” she said, “so I hope you’ve done your homework.”

  “It’s all right,” I said when I met Angus on his way to breakfast. “They’re in quarantine.”

  “I know. Maria told me. We’re to keep away from them. Okay, Jean?” he asked. “Unless you want Phantom to get it.”

  “They were going to be shot. I think Mr Carli is jolly decent having them,” I told him. “Lots of people wouldn’t.”

  “Exactly. He’s a very nice man,” said Angus. “And look, here’s a postcard from Dad. Just to say they’ve arrived and Mum’s writing. Someone must have been to collect the post.”

  “It was Jacques. I saw him,” I said.

  “By the way,” Angus went on, “Maria’s starting a shorthand class. She wants you to join. Jane has already started learning. Maria says you can always get a job if you know shorthand and typing.”

  “I know what I’m doing, I’m schooling horses,” I answered. “I don’t want any other job. Why don’t you join the class, Angus?”

  “She’s teaching me chess,” he said.

  Breakfast was cereals, eggs and bacon, and scones. Maria supervised us. Jane read a book as she ate. It was called A Springtime of Love by Faith Trance.

  “Are you joining my class, Jean?” asked Maria, fresh and sweet-smelling in a summer dress and sandals.

  “No, thank you. Isn’t it exciting about the horses which arrived last night?” I asked. “When can we see them?”

  “That is for Mr Carli to decide,” she said. “But not for a day or two.”

  “Are they big or small? Hunters or ponies?” I added to help her along.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know one end of a horse from the other.”

  “Well, what do they do? Horses do different things,” I urged.

  “Again, I don’t know. I’m sorry, Jean. I’m not horse-mad like you,” she replied, laughing.

  “Surely I can see them from a distance?” I said.

  “For goodness sake, Jean, it’s nothing to do with me. Now eat up and get off to your lesson before you drive me round the bend,” cried Maria.

  I ran down to the square. Caroline had caught Phantom and tied him to a gate.

  “No stable today?” I asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “When can I see them?”

  “What?”

  “The new horses.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What are they like?”

  “I didn’t see them properly. They were wearing rugs.”

  “But you must have seen them when you fed them this morning.”

  “I’m not saying, anyway. Hurry up and groom Phantom. Not the dandy brush for his mane. How many more times have I got to tell you?”

  “I can’t wait to see them,” I cried.

  “All in good time.”

  I looked at Caroline and suddenly saw that she was tired. Her hair hung in wisps around her face. Her eyes were ringed with dark shadows, her forehead creased in a perpetual frown.

  “You don’t seem very excited,” I commented.

  “Why should I be? I’ve seen enough horses to last me a lifetime,” she said.

  “Why did you come here then?” I asked.

  “Because Father wanted me to,” she said, and to my horror she started to cry.

  4

  “I’m sorry,” I said, as she blew her nose. “I ask too many questions. Everybody says so.”

  “I just want you to remember that those horses are nothing to do with me, that bringing them here was Father’s idea, not mine,” said Caroline, sniffing. “If anyone asks you, I had no hand in it.”

  In what? I thought, suddenly panic-stricken.

  “Okay, now let’s get on with your schooling,” she said, while I thought: The horses are ill, they’re going to die. Someone has been experimenting with some ghastly virus and it has gone wrong. I tried to school but my mind was in a turmoil and Phantom, sensing it, refused to walk. He jogged and threw his head up and down and sweated; he danced sideways and kicked at horseflies and broke a dressage marker. Caroline lost her temper.

  “What’s the matter with you both?” she cried. “Where are your legs, Jean? And just look at your hands. I said ‘left rein, right leg’. Are you deaf or something?” She seemed to be choking back tears as she shouted.

  “Sorry. I am trying,” I yelled.

  “Stop and rest. Just stand and rest. I said stand,” she shouted. “Don’t you ever do what you are told?”

  Phantom started to whirl round and round, and I could see Mr Carli coming down the long path between the rhododendrons. He swung his arms as he walked and his hair was swept back in its usual immaculate way.

  “What’s going on? It sounds like a fish market,” he called.

  “Nothing. It’s my fault. I was being rude,” I said, wanting to give Caroline time to compose herself.

  “I don’t like noise. I like tranquil surroundings,” said Mr Carli, catching Phantom’s reins. “I think I shall have to talk to you, Caroline.”

  I felt her cringe.

  “It’s my fault, I kept arguing. I think you’re marvellous taking all those horses on, Mr Carli,” I hurried on. “I mean, it would have been awful if they had been shot. You’re what Dad would call ‘a real brick’. Will they be in quarantine long?”

  “I hope not. Now, no more noise please,” he said. “And keep away from those horses, Jean. Understand? We don’t know when they’ll be in the clear. All right? I can trust you, can’t I?”r />
  “I hope so,” I answered, wishing to keep my options open.

  “So do I, because if your little horse gets it you’ll be sorry,” he said, walking on towards the sea.

  “I can’t teach any more,” said Caroline. “I’m sorry. I’ve had bad news, terrible news. Go for a hack, dear, please, a quiet one and keep out of trouble, and please don’t go far.”

  “Has someone died?”

  “Yes, that’s right, someone’s died,” she said, but I knew she was lying. “Keep away from trouble, Jean. Just ride round the tracks and then straight back here. All right?” I nodded. “You see, if you get into trouble, I shall. You understand, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You should go and have a sleep, or a really nice lunch,” I said. “You’ll feel better then, and afterwards I’ll help you. I love mucking out.”

  I rode away along a rough track with bracken on each side, from which flies rose in their thousands and hung round Phantom’s head like locusts. I felt in a daze, as though I was somehow ahead of time. I wanted to think. Caroline’s face haunted me. Obviously the arrival of the horses had upset her. Were they about to die? Had she been consulted at all? Was she ever consulted about anything?

  I started to trot as the road became smoother and passed an empty house, a deserted chicken run, an empty dog-kennel. Where is everybody? I wondered again. I could see the sea now, wilder today, angrier, throwing itself against sheer rock, withdrawing and trying again, battering the coast.

  Tomorrow I will swim, I thought. I will put on my bikini and sunbathe, and I will be nice to Caroline. After a time I turned back and met Caroline again by the square.

  “We’ll turn him out,” she said, taking Phantom. “Sorry about earlier, please forget it.”

  “Can we ride together tomorrow? You could ride one of the Highlands,” I suggested. “And I will ride Phantom.”

  “That’s an idea. But first some stable management. I’m going to talk to you about teeth,” said Caroline. “And then it’ll be bits and martingales. Have you ever heard of a Wilson snaffle?”