Phantom Horse 4: Phantom Horse in Danger

by Christine Pullein-Thompson

We all stood up without thinking. Dominic approached the constable by the door.

  “What’s the hold-up, officer?” he said.

  “'We’re waiting for the superintendent.”

  “Meanwhile our horses die,” I said.

  “I don’t know anything about that.”

  We sat down again.

  “They will have to kill him there, because he won’t load. He only loads for me,” I said.

  “They won’t do that. They like meat fresh for the abattoir,” replied Dominic with a twisted smile.

  “But they’ll have Killarney. He loads for anyone,” said Angus.

  I imagined them struggling with Phantom. I imagined him on the ground, leaping to his feet, twisting, kicking, rearing. I imagined ropes round his quarters, blindfolds over his eyes, whips cracking, stones flying; and as I imagined, tears ran down my cheeks like rain.

  Dominic looked at me and said, “Don’t give up, Jean. While there’s life there’s hope.”

  “They won’t think we’ll have the courage to go back,” said Angus. “They’ll be complacent now.”

  “It’s a long walk back to the Land Rover,” I answered.

  “I shall ring my father. He will give the police hell. We’ll be driven back, don’t worry,” answered Dominic. “They’ll be sorry they ever picked us up by the time he’s finished with them.”

  I imagined Mr Barnes answering the telephone, Mrs Barnes behind him, listening. Mrs Parkin would have been to Sparrow Cottage, tidied up, and left another of her messages. And, far away, our parents would be attending a function, dressed in formal clothes.

  Looking round the police station, I felt in another world. I couldn’t believe that everything could be the same at home, while we waited for the superintendent, and Geoff Craig took our horses to be slaughtered. How could we go home and live normal lives again without Phantom and Killarney? It was unthinkable. I started to pace the room, screaming, “I can’t stand it. I can’t stand it any more …”

  Dominic grabbed me. “For goodness sake sit down,” he said. “Do you want to be locked up? Do you want to see a doctor?”

  “A doctor would be better than no one,” I answered bitterly.

  “Shut up,” said Angus. “You’re hysterical.”

  “He’s dying! Phantom’s dying; they are killing him now! I feel it in my bones,” I cried. “I shall never see him again, never. And it’s your fault,” I shouted at Angus. “He’s dying because you wanted a moped.”

  “Calm down, miss,” said the policeman. “The superintendent won’t be long now.”

  “How long is long?” I cried.

  “Ten minutes. Would you like some tea?”

  We were brought cups of tea, and sausage rolls which tasted like sawdust in my mouth. It was now a quarter to two.

  The weather had changed. We could hear rain falling outside and the endless roar of traffic, quick footsteps, and voices complaining about the weather. And it was normal and sane; we were the only people out of step, sitting there accused of something we hadn’t done.

  Angus was talking to the policeman, explaining our situation, pointing at the clock, begging him to do something. Then Dominic started to sing, “Why are we waiting …?”

  I shouted, “Phantom is dying while we wait! You must have hearts of stone. Do we look like vandals?”

  Suddenly the waiting room seemed full of police. Horrified, I thought they were going to lock us up, and knew then there was no more hope.

  A policewoman came towards me. I shouted, “We’re innocent, please believe me. We don’t break other people’s things.”

  Angus was shouting, “You can’t keep us here. It’s against the law. We haven’t done anything. We are law-abiding citizens. We have no prison records. You can’t pin anything on us.”

  Then I heard a voice I knew. We all stopped shouting. It was Dad, striding across the room with dark shadows under his eyes, dressed in a suit, frightening in his rage, saying, “I want my children.” The whole room seemed to clear and I saw that he had someone with him who must have been very senior, because the policeman called him sir.

  “Come out of here at once,” said Dad, as though we had chosen to be there. “And get into the car. Mum’s there.”

  It was a strange car and Mum was inside, half crying, half laughing. I threw my arms around her neck and said, “They’re killing Phantom.”

  “I know,” she said. “We’re going there next. We had to get you first.”

  Angus said, “I thought you were in Geneva,” in a funny, strained voice with a choke in it.

  “We were, six hours ago,” she replied.

  As the rain beat against the windows I began to feel safe for the first time in hours.

  Dad leaped into the car and cried, “Does anyone know the way?”

  Dominic said, “I think so.”

  “Get in the front then,” Dad shouted.

  Two minutes later we were roaring through the town. There didn’t seem any point in talking because there was only one thing which mattered: to get to Geoff Craig’s place in time.

  Then Angus said, “I see you’ve got my recorder.”

  Dad replied, “Yes, I played the recording to the Chief Constable.”

  “You’ve been to the farm then?” I said.

  Mum nodded.

  A church clock struck two and we overtook a party of tough, wet, young men on bicycles. The journey seemed to last forever. Dominic looked very tense, sitting up in front and trying to remember the way.

  Mum said, “We were so frightened when you weren’t at home. We kept phoning you. Then Mr Barnes telephoned. He said you were in a mess and we had better come back.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “You’ll have to explain it all later,” she said. “It seems a bit of a mix-up. And what has happened to Angus’s tooth?”

  “We had a fight. It wasn’t our fault,” I answered, while all the time at the back of my mind Phantom was being killed, skinned, becoming just another carcass in the abattoir.

  “It will have to be crowned,” Mum said. “That will cost a fortune, but thank heavens you’re safe.”

  “I’m to blame,” announced Angus in a tight voice.

  Then we saw the Land Rover parked in the lay-by, and Geoff Craig’s farm. I started to pray.

  “We’re nearly there, Mr Simpson,” said Dominic. “That’s his drive and his house, and the horses are in the hangar beyond.”

  “We’re not going to fight,” said Dad. “Don’t get the wrong idea. We are acting within our rights. Let me deal with Mr Craig.”

  I was trying to see Phantom, but the yard was full of people and cars. I felt tired, too tired to see anything properly any more.

  “Remember, no fighting,” said Dad as we turned up the drive. “Not even revenge if the horses are dead. You mustn’t take the law into your own hands.”

  “I would like to kill June, but I won’t,” replied Angus.

  “Who is she?”

  “His daughter. Don’t you know? I thought you knew everything,” replied Angus.

  I looked at Mum. Her face was lined with exhaustion. She was wearing a suit and the shoes which made her feet ache. Then I looked at the yard. There was no Phantom, just three police cars and Mr Barnes.

  “Well done, Dad,” shouted Dominic, as we all tumbled out of the car into the rain-soaked yard.

  “They’re questioning Mr Craig in the house. Are you all right, son?” asked Mr Barnes.

  I looked for Phantom again. I saw that the hangar doors were open.

  “They had just taken a load when we arrived. I don’t know if yours have gone,” Mr Barnes told us. “We decided to see for ourselves what was going on.”

  We ran to the hangar.

  “They will have taken Killarney for certain,” said Angus.

  The hangar was almost empty. Phantom stood tied up, soaked in sweat, with the weals from a whip fresh across his quarters, and blood on his hocks. He looked very sad with his head hangi
ng low, and I knew he must have battled for a long time but that somehow he had won. I put my arms round his neck and said, “It’s all right, Phantom, you’re going home.” I couldn’t look at Angus who stood lost and alone in the hangar, looking for a horse which wasn’t there. He seemed numb as he stood there, like someone who has fought long and hard and lost, and I had never seen so much remorse on anybody’s face before.

  Dominic came in and said, “They are arresting Geoff Craig. Are both your horses here?”

  And then neither of us could look at Angus.

  Dominic patted him on the shoulder and said, “No one could have done more.”

  I remembered that “too late” and “if only” are the saddest words in the English language, and wondered how long it would take Angus to recover from this moment.

  I untied Phantom and said, “How can we get him home? He can’t stay here another moment.” Angus looked away, his eyes full of tears.

  Then we heard a voice call, “Your horse is safe, Angus. I phoned the abattoir. He’s coming back.” And there was June, entering the hangar, red-eyed and somehow appearing smaller, with all her triumph gone.

  “You saved him?” cried Angus.

  “That’s right. He was too good to go for meat,” she answered, trying to make her voice sound matter-of-fact, when really it was full of emotion. “I said, ‘Take out the grey. He shouldn’t be there, he’s one of mine. There’s been a terrible mistake,”’ she told us.

  “If you’re being funny I’ll kill you,” Angus said.

  “Listen, I can hear the box coming back. I’ve saved him for you, Angus. Be grateful …” she said.

  I led Phantom out. There were only two policemen left in the yard. June’s mother was talking to Mum. She looked very much older, more like a granny than a mother.

  “I knew something would happen one day, and I’m glad it has really. I can’t stand the trade. I was always begging him to stop and so was June. Lots of people wouldn’t speak to us because of it, they would cut us dead in the street, but even so, I hope he doesn’t go to prison,” she said.

  Angus stood waiting for the cattle truck, the awful despair gone from his face, while Dad talked to Mr Barnes about us.

  Mum told me, “We kept ringing, Jean, but you were never there. We had to return. We were packing when Mr Barnes rang.”

  “Was Dad furious?” I asked.

  “No, just upset. We caught the first plane we could. We found Mrs Parkin’s message and there were no horses in the fields,” continued Mum.

  I could see it all in my mind’s eye. I felt guilty. “We forgot all about you,” I said guiltily.

  “And then your father telephoned the Chief Constable,” explained Mum.

  The cattle truck was coming up the drive.

  “Did Mr Barnes play the recording?”

  “Yes. But it didn’t tell us everything. You’ve still got a lot of explaining to do.”

  The truck stopped. Phantom lifted his tired head and whinnied. The ramp hit the concrete yard. Inside, Killarney was soaked in sweat.

  Angus rushed forward.

  “He knew where he was going, they always do. That’s what makes it so horrible,” said June.

  Killarney was wearing a rope halter. He charged down the ramp and stared round the yard. He looked quite different, with nothing but fear on his face where once there had been wisdom.

  “I suppose I should thank you,” said Angus, looking at June.

  She shook her head. “I should have spoken when I came to your house. I wanted to, but blood is thicker than water. Anyway, it’s over now. I shall never ride again. Dad wanted me to go to the top. He wanted me to have everything he never had, but I often wished I had an ugly old cob which cost nothing. It would have been more fun that way.”

  “I know what you mean,” replied Angus. “You wanted to do it the hard way, by yourself.” Killarney was dragging him down the drive, desperately trying to get away from the Craigs’ place.

  “I’m riding home,” I said. “It’s not raining now and I can’t bear another minute here.”

  “I’ll fetch the trailer,” replied Dominic.

  “We can’t wait. Thank you all the same,” I said, vaulting on to Phantom. His sides were sticky with sweat.

  “It’s forty miles,” said Mum.

  “We can ride halfway. We can’t stay here another minute. We must go,” I answered. “The horses hate it. Look at them. Look at their eyes.”

  June was giving Angus a bridle. “Keep it,” she said.

  Dad was talking to the police.

  “Dominic will meet you,” said Mr Barnes.

  “Dominic has done enough,” I answered.

  “But someone must fetch you. You can’t ride the whole way,” said Mum.

  The sky had cleared. I looked at the hangar and thought that no more horses would await their execution there.

  Mum waved and shouted, “Go carefully.”

  “June has given me her tack,” said Angus, riding alongside.

  “She has a crush on you, goodness knows why,” I answered.

  “It’s brilliant. Look!” continued Angus.

  But I didn’t want to look, for suddenly there was only one thing I wanted in the whole world, and that was to be in bed in Sparrow Cottage, with the birds singing outside and our horses grazing under the apple trees. I wanted to know that the nightmare was over at last. I wanted to wake up and be safe.

  12

  It was a long way home. Phantom hurried, but his stride had lost its swing. Every few metres he stumbled; his head was lower than usual, and I knew that for the first time in my life I was riding a truly exhausted horse.

  I slid to the ground and straightened his mane; my legs felt weak and useless, and my eyes had stopped focusing properly again.

  Angus dismounted slowly, his face pale, his right eye twitching. We didn’t speak. We told our legs to walk and they walked. Right, left, right, left. One, two. I tried to swing my arms, to be a soldier returning victorious from a long hard battle. I tried to sing, but I couldn’t think of any words or any tune. My brain felt soft and soggy like damp cotton wool.

  The police passed us slowly, obviously observing the Highway Code; then Mr Barnes and Dominic, who wound down a window to shout, “We’ll soon be back.”

  Our parents passed next, waving madly, Dad giving us a thumbs-up sign.

  Lights were going on in houses now. Children looked at us over gates and giggled. My tired legs continued to walk and my exhausted horse followed.

  We reached a town. People stared. We must have looked strange – two tired figures followed by two tired horses with hardly a spark of life between us.

  A man in a cap called, ‘“What happened to you, then? Lost the fox, did you?”

  We didn’t answer. Lights shone on window displays. Shoppers jostled each other. Buses disgorged passengers. We didn’t belong any more. We felt outside it all. As we waited at traffic lights, with cars pressing at our heels, a woman in a raincoat stepped forward.

  “Here’s an apple each for your horses,” she said, taking them from a brown paper bag. “Are you all right? Is something wrong?”

  “It was, but everything’s all right now,” replied Angus.

  “They were going to the abattoir. We were only just in time,” I said, and saw the horror on her face as the lights changed.

  She’s nice, I thought, she understands Then a driver hooted and someone shouted, “You’re holding us up!”

  Phantom dropped his apple but I couldn’t stop to pick it up. Cars came from all directions, only just missing us.

  “It’s the rush hour,” said Angus.

  “That’s no excuse,” I answered.

  Eventually we reached the suburbs. They looked leafy and empty after the town. The streetlights came on.

  “Dominic is being a long time,” said Angus.

  “It’s a long way,” I answered.

  “I can’t stand up much longer,” said Angus. “I’ve never felt lik
e this before.”

  “It’s called exhaustion,” I replied, giggling feebly. “But at least we’ve won. I can’t believe it ever happened now.”

  “What?” asked Angus.

  “Everything.”

  My stomach was rumbling with hunger. Car lights blinded us. The suburbs ended, and night arrived with a dark, velvety sky.

  “I hope we’re going the right way,” Angus said. “We’ve been walking on and on like zombies. Have you looked for signposts? – because I haven’t.”

  I shook my head out of habit and said, “Supposing Dominic can’t find us?”

  “It will be a nuisance because we’re tired. But it won’t alter anything, because we’ve saved the horses, and that’s all that matters,” Angus answered.

  There were now grass verges on either side of the road, and with one accord we collapsed on to a bank and let our horses graze.

  “I am going to let Dominic have Killarney,” announced Angus. “I don’t need him. I am going across Europe on a bicycle. And he deserves something.”

  “On a bicycle?” I repeated. “But when?”

  “This summer. Dominic likes you,” continued Angus. “You can ride together. You won’t miss me.”

  “We’re only good friends,” I answered, but I knew it wasn’t true. I liked him too. It could even be love, but I wasn’t sure, not yet anyway. “I feel safe with him,” I continued. “I know he can change a wheel or throw an enemy over his shoulder. I don’t have to worry when I am with him.”

  Suddenly we could see the lights of a Land Rover.

  “They’ve come, they’re here!” cried Angus, standing up, and we waved tired arms. Our horses raised tired heads and stared.

  “It’s all right this time,” I told Phantom. “We’re going home.”

  Dominic stepped out of the Land Rover and let down the ramp on the trailer.

  “You’re on the wrong road,” he said in an exasperated voice. “We thought we would never find you.”

  I knew that Dominic would never be on the wrong road, because he would always have the right maps, or would look at the right signposts, because he’s that sort of person.

  Angus said, “I’m sorry. We were so tired. We just kept walking. You know us, Dominic.”