Phantom Horse 5: Phantom Horse – Island Mystery

by Christine Pullein-Thompson

  Later, when I returned to the house, Angus asked, “What’s happened? You look upset.”

  “Nothing’s happened. I’m just tired.” I did not want to draw Angus into my feelings, to have scorn heaped on them. I wanted to be alone. I lay on my bed, while rain drizzled from the sky, thinking: There’s something wrong with this set-up. Maybe I’ll visit the Macgregors. I’ll try to find out what’s going on. I knew it was against the rules, for we were not supposed to hack without special permission, and we had to tell someone where we were going. But Phantom was my horse; whether he rested or not was my business, and Dad was paying a fortune for us to be on the island. That’s the way I saw it, anyway. So I felt no guilt when later I slipped down the narrow path to Phantom’s field. He was wearing a headcollar and I had a piece of string. It was enough, because the tack room was locked and I would have had to ask someone for the key.

  He whinnied when he saw me, and vaulting on to his sleek back I suddenly felt absurdly free. I felt the world was mine, which was ridiculous since Mr Carli owned the whole island and almost everything on it.

  I thought of Dominic as I rode and wished he was with me, because he’s the most sensible person I know and can cope with most situations. I imagined my parents in the Middle East and wondered what Mum was doing with herself all day long. Midges swarmed into my hair and stayed there. Horseflies hovered, then dived at Phantom like bombers. The sea was gentle again. It shimmered and, strangely, there was a seabird swimming serenely alone.

  Mr Macgregor was outside his cottage, leaning against the wall. He had a useless look about him, as though he had given up hope of anything. “Good afternoon,” I shouted. “Nice day.”

  “You could call it that,” he answered, “and then again you could be calling it something else,” he said deviously.

  “How are you?” I asked. “And how is your wife?”

  “Sad,” he answered. “Aye, we’re both sad. We will be leaving soon. This is no place to have a bairn, not now. Once we could have called the ferry when we needed it, but not since Mr Carli bought the island.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Aye, you mustn’t be. It’s not your fault. You seem a decent enough lass. We will be the last to go and it’s awful lonely with none of your own kith and kin. It will be for the best, I’m thinking, though it breaks your heart at times. Morag!” he called. “We’ve got a visitor.”

  “It’s guid of you to come,” said Morag. “We don’t see many people these days.”

  “Aye, and it’s sad to see the animals now with no one caring. It’s a shame.”

  “Isn’t there anything anyone can do?” I asked.

  “Nothing, unless you will be putting a bullet through Mr Carli’s head.”

  “How do you keep in touch with your families?” I asked.

  “We don’t,” replied Morag, “we canna. If we will be wanting a letter to go we have to take it up to the big hoose and who would be wanting to do that?”

  “No one,” I agreed.

  “You’re right there for sure.”

  Mr Macgregor started to pat Phantom. “He’s a beautiful horse. Will you be hearing about the Australian horses?” he asked.

  “What Australian horses?”

  “It was on the radio this morning,” he said.

  I shook my head. “I’ve been busy. My brother brought a radio, but we haven’t listened to it once,” I answered.

  “Och aye, you should always keep in touch,” he said.

  “Well, what about them?” I asked.

  “They’ve gone, the lot of them. Kidnapped. The whole Olympic team. No one knows where they are, but someone is asking an awful lot of money for them – half a million pounds, was it, Morag?”

  “What team? Where? In Australia?” I asked.

  “In England, the whole Australian team of jumpers,” replied Mr Macgregor. “They were training here, I believe.”

  “Including Milestone?” I cried. “Their top jumper, the horse who swept the board at Wembley last year?”

  Suddenly I remembered how Dominic had said that Milestone and his rider were to demonstrate to our Pony Club, and that I would miss it … My mind started to race in circles.

  “The papers would be full of it, I’m certain,” continued Mr Macgregor. “Ask Mr Carli for a newspaper. He fetches one most days.”

  “Thanks for telling me. I must go now. I wasn’t meant to come,” I said, turning Phantom round, waving, thinking: The whole team! Milestone! One of the most famous horses in the world! How did they do it?

  They must be in the square! I thought next. Right under our noses! Does Caroline know? She must, of course, I reasoned. She must be looking after them. That’s why she looks so peculiar, she knows and disapproves, but can’t let down her father. That explains everything.

  A hard, icy ball of fear started to form in my stomach. What about the others? I thought. Not Jane, surely? I was sweating. I shall have to tell Angus, and we’ll have to look at the horses, and then? Then what? Telephone the police when there was only one telephone, which was in Mr Carli’s office? Catch a ferry to the mainland when every boat belonged to Mr Carli? Send out distress signals when we had none? I let Phantom go in his field.

  “So you’re back,” called Mr Carli from behind the rhododendrons. “Have you forgotten the rules of this establishment?”

  “No. I just felt like a ride,” I answered brazenly, though inside I was quaking.

  “I think we’ll have to have a little talk, you and I,” said Mr Carli. “Come to the office at six this evening.”

  He came through the rhododendrons, put an arm round my shoulder and said, “You must learn discipline. None of us like rules, but unfortunately our lives are governed by them and we don’t want you growing up a law-breaker; what would your father say then, eh?”

  “I don’t know,” I stammered.

  “No hat, no bridle, you’re not responsible for your actions,” he said. “Do you want a cracked skull?”

  I shook my head.

  “I will see you at six then.”

  He walked back to the house swinging his arms, while I stood gazing out to sea, my mind in turmoil. We must do something, I thought. We can’t pretend it’s not happening. Then I was running towards the house, rushing from room to room, looking for Angus.

  “Whatever’s the matter?” asked Maria, meeting me in a passage.

  “Nothing. I’m looking for my brother.”

  “Well, you won’t find him here. He’s having a sailing lesson with Jacques. He’ll be back for tea.”

  “A sailing lesson?” I cried.

  “Yes. Whatever is the matter, Jean?” she asked.

  “I’ve … I’ve just taught Phantom something rather special. I want to show the trick to Angus,” I lied.

  Quickly I pulled myself together. “Oh, er, Maria,” I said, as she continued down the passage, “is there a newspaper I can read? I’ve finished my book and would like to read on my bed until teatime.”

  Maria stopped, her back to me. Then she turned and said coldly, “You know we don’t get newspapers on Uaine, Jean. We haven’t had any since last week. There are plenty of books in the library. Go and get one of those.”

  “But I saw …” I began, then gabbled on in a rush. “I mean thanks. Super. I’ll go and look for one now.” And I ran in the opposite direction before she could say anything more.

  In the library, I sat in the nearest chair and tried to breathe normally. I had seen Jacques arrive with the post. Of course he had brought the newspapers. I knew Maria was lying.

  5

  “I don’t believe it,” cried Angus. “We know why the horses are here – it’s crystal clear. You’re just being alarmist.” But I could already see his conviction wavering, he was not certain any more. “It simply can’t be happening, not here, not with us.”

  “We’ll have to see the horses. How will we recognise them?” I asked.

  “That won’t be difficult,” he said. “There was a piece
about them in Horse and Hound just before we left. And a picture. Hang on, I’m remembering.” He stared out of the window. “There was the grey, Milestone, and a very large brown from Germany, and the others were big and wiry.”

  “Let’s listen to the news on your radio,” I suggested.

  “It’s still in my case.” I found the radio and switched it on but no sound came.

  “For goodness sake, what have you done? You are a fool, Jean, you must have broken it.” Angus snatched it from me.

  “Don’t shout, they’ll hear,” I said.

  “It’s not definite, nothing is definite yet,” said Angus, turning the knob on his radio.

  “I’m scared. I don’t know why, but I am,” I said.

  “Don’t be stupid, they won’t hurt us,” he replied, opening the back of his radio. “I thought so, no batteries!”

  “Who’s the fool now! Fancy bringing it without any batteries!” I exclaimed.

  “But I didn’t,” replied Angus.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Someone’s taken them.”

  It really was the answer to our worst fears. It sent a tremble down my spine. “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Absolutely. I bought new ones specially for coming here. They cost me a fortune. I know I bought them, and I remember putting them in.”

  “So?” I asked.

  “We are being watched. We are under suspicion. But I’ve got a camera with a film in it,” said Angus, “so we can still take photographs as proof of the horses’ identities.”

  The camera was empty too.

  We looked at each other and I think we were both scared to the marrow of our bones.

  “What about Jacques? Is he all right? Did you enjoy your sailing lesson?” I asked after a short, fraught silence.

  “He’s a communist. He doesn’t speak much English. He knows his stuff though. We didn’t talk much. He comes from a poor family – he hates the rich.”

  “And Mr Carli? Does Jacques hate him?”

  “I don’t know. But the horses! They were training in England for next year’s Olympics.”

  “Where?”

  “In the Cotswolds, near Princess Anne’s place. It’s incredible. How can they be here?” asked Angus.

  “How many people know? Not Miss Pitcher, surely?” I asked.

  “Perhaps just Mr Carli. Perhaps he’s fooled everyone else. He’s clever. You can see it all over his face,” said Angus. “And have you noticed how silently he walks? You turn round and he’s behind you, and you haven’t heard a thing.”

  “He must have accomplices,” I said.

  “Yes, the man and the woman who came in the night with the horses,” replied Angus. “I didn’t see them properly, but they were definitely there.”

  “And I heard Mr Carli offering the man a drink; he’s called George,” I said. “We’ll have to make a plan. We’ll have to see the horses and then go to the mainland for help. We can’t handle it alone.”

  “But how do we get to the mainland?” asked Angus. “Why did it have to happen? Are they really so valuable? Just five showjumpers.”

  “But irreplaceable. It takes years to train a top showjumper, you know that,” I said. “And Milestone is one of the best in the world. He holds the high-jump record. You must remember seeing him when we went to Wembley with the Pony Club!”

  “The grey?” asked Angus.

  “That’s right, the grey.” I was shaking all over now with fear and excitement. “We’ll, have to save them. The Australians will never pay, and if they don’t Mr Carli will destroy the whole team,” I cried.

  “The one wearing a running martingale and a drop noseband …?”

  I nodded.

  “Oh help,” cried Angus. “I remember. He’s a horse in a million!”

  “That’s right. Irreplaceable,” I repeated.

  “But how did they do it?”

  “We don’t know yet,” I said.

  I sat on Angus’s bed, while he sat on a chair, his head in his hands. “The Australians might simply pay up,” he said hopefully. “Then the horses will be saved.”

  “But what if they refuse?” I cried. “We’ve got to do something.”

  “There must be someone who will help,” said Angus after a while. “Let’s wait a bit and work things out.”

  “How long do you think we’ve got?” I asked.

  “Days, weeks. I don’t know. More than hours anyway,” said Angus.

  Later I saw Mr Carli in his study. Angus wanted to be with me. “Two heads are better than one,” he said.

  “I don’t want to look suspicious. I want to play it cool,” I told him. “He’s not likely to kill me.”

  “Not yet,” muttered Angus.

  “Don’t be silly.”

  I knocked on the door. Mr Carli was sitting at his desk. He looked like any other headmaster. Suddenly I wasn’t frightened any more.

  “Sit down,” he said, pointing to a chair. “Now be silent for five minutes and consider your behaviour.” I sat down and looked round the office. Once it had been a room where people had laughed and talked, perhaps children had even played there, or the old laird had used it for his gunroom. Now it was like a million other offices, cold and functional.

  “You must have had a job bringing all this stuff over,” I said, waving airily at the office equipment.

  Mr Carli raised a tanned hand on the end of a hairy arm. “I said, silence,” he shouted.

  I thought of my parents: If only they could see me now, I thought. Of Dominic milking his cows, swilling down the cowhouse, turning off the lights. I thought of our help, Mrs Parkin, picking up the post in Sparrow Cottage. It seemed a long way off. Will we ever see it again? I thought. And then, Don’t be melodramatic, Jean.

  “Right, is your mind clear now?” asked Mr Carli, beckoning me over to his desk and looking me straight in the face.

  “As clear as it will ever be.”

  “I wish to impress upon you the consequence of breaking the rules on this island, which are made, I might say, for the good of all. If you continue to trespass on the island, we will have to confiscate your horse. Lock him up. Is that clear, Jean?” he asked.

  “You can’t, he’s mine,” I said.

  “But you’re here on my island, and under my control,” retorted Mr Carli.

  “Being paid for, as a pupil,” I insisted.

  “I am not going to argue with you, Jean. I just wish you to understand that it is for your own good and safety to obey the rules.”

  He stood up. The interview was at an end.

  But the threat was there. Phantom was to be the pawn in the game.

  “No hard feelings.” His arm was round my shoulder again. It was thick and hairy and smelled of suntan lotion.

  “No,” I said.

  Angus was waiting for me outside. “Well?” he asked.

  “Nothing much,” I answered as we walked down the stairs together. “I’m going to visit those horses tonight. Will you come too?” I whispered.

  “I don’t know. Can’t we just forget all about it?” asked Angus.

  “No we can’t,” I said. “Can’t you see how important it is? Let’s go outside in the fresh air. I can’t breathe in here – and supposing it’s bugged?”

  “Don’t exaggerate,” replied Angus. “We’ve got to stay calm.”

  Dinner was a strange meal. Mr Carli made amusing conversation to me as though our interview had never happened. Jane upset her water and Mr Carli opened a bottle of wine. I felt all the time as though I was sitting on a time bomb, and because of that it was impossible to concentrate. And the wine made me silly so that soon I could do nothing but giggle.

  After dinner we played cards and I lost every hand.

  “You should go to bed, Jean – the wine must have gone to your head,” said Maria, winking at Mr Carli.

  The stairs moved as I walked up them, the walls swayed. I lay on my bed and the ceiling went round and round. After a time I slept and drea
med that Phantom was lying dead on the seashore.

  I woke up to find that I was still fully dressed and that dawn was breaking across the bay, the most beautiful dawn I had ever seen. And I knew now what I must do. There was no other way. I had to see the horses in the square.

  I woke Angus, “I’m going to the square,” I said. “Are you coming with me?”

  He was still dressed too. “That wine was like poison,” he answered, sitting up. “Of course I’m coming with you.”

  We crept down the wide front stairs and opened the enormous front door. I could hear my heart beating as loud as the sounding of a drum. The grass was wet with dew. The sun rising above the sea had made a path of palest gold across the shimmering water. The wild goats had appeared in the night and were grazing near the square. Their long beards made them look like old men.

  We tried the gates to the square but they were padlocked. “There’s a window at the back of the stable,” I said. “We can push it open and then climb in.”

  “I feel as though there should be a searchlight, as though we were in a prison camp,” said Angus.

  “Same here.”

  We were both shivering, half with cold, half fear.

  “Are you sure you’ve got it right? Half a million pounds is a lot of money,” said Angus, as we waded through nettles.

  “A hundred per cent,” I answered, because now everything was clear-cut and certain in the bright morning light. It all added up.

  The window was higher than I thought. The nettles stung through our jeans, and we were seized by panic when we thought we heard a voice, but it was only a nanny-goat calling to her kid. We dragged boulders to the window, stinging our hands on the nettles. We piled them on top of one another while inside a horse whinnied.

  “They’ll be tranquillised, of course,” said Angus.

  “I wonder where George is now.”