‘She messes with people’s heads,’ added Josh.
‘Yes – she does, Mrs May,’ Emma nodded.
‘She’s really, really mean!’ cried Will crossly.
Grandpa went off to find Mr Lawrence and tell him that his children were safe. While he did, Bryony’s mum walked them all back to Gardener’s Cottage.
As they waited for Emma’s dad, Emma got Bryony some cooled boiled water and sat beside her as she cleaned her cut.
‘Em, I’m really sorry,’ Bryony said. ‘For – well – everything.’
‘Don’t be,’ replied Emma. ‘I know what Georgina’s like, remember!’
Just then, Emma’s dad rushed in.
‘Thank goodness!’ he cried, hugging Emma and Will. ‘You’re safe!’
He thanked Bryony’s mum for finding them.
‘Well, we sort of found each other,’ she replied.
‘Right, then,’ Grandpa nodded. ‘I think we’d best be off!’
Bryony popped a plaster onto her cut and then she and Emma gave each other a hug.
‘Thanks again,’ Bryony whispered.
‘No worries,’ smiled Emma. ‘That’s what best friends are for.’ And after everything they’d been through they’d probably be best friends for life!
Mr Lawrence waved them off, then went back in to light a fire.
‘Come on, then,’ said Mum. ‘Let’s get you two home for tea, and Grandpa too.’
They were just about to head out through the back gate when Bryony heard it floating on the breeze. The sad tap, tap, tap, of a little hoof.
‘Red!’ she cried. ‘He’s calling me. Calling to say goodbye!’ And turning, Bryony ran to him. She ran and never looked back. This time she was determined – nothing was going to stop her . . .
And there he was! Her beautiful Red, peeping out of his stable door. His eyes twinkled when he saw Bryony and his chocolate-coloured ears pricked up. Then throwing back his head, Bryony’s heart melted as he let out an excited little whinny.
‘Oh, Red!’ cried Bryony, throwing her arms round his neck. ‘I’m so sorry I let you down. I wanted to keep you so much! And no one will love you like I do. Please, Red, never forget that, and be happy.’
Through a blur of tears Bryony saw Mum, Josh and Grandpa appear. They knew how much Bryony wanted Red, but now they saw how much she needed him too. And the little pony seemed to need Bryony back.
No one heard the footsteps until it was too late. Then suddenly the yard was filled with people.
‘Oh . . .?’ Arabella Brook looked very shocked. And there by her side was Georgina. Behind them stood Jonathan with his parents.
Georgina stepped forward.
‘Get off my land!’ She was looking right at Bryony. Bryony felt her cheeks burn at being caught saying a tearful goodbye.
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ Georgina’s eyes flashed. ‘It’s not like the stupid pony’s going to miss you!’
‘Georgina!’ Bella looked suddenly mortified. ‘Why on earth are you talking to Bryony like this?’
As Bryony had suspected, Bella had no idea what her daughter was really like.
‘At least I don’t blackmail people,’ Bryony retorted. ‘And make them lie, Georgina!’
Bryony turned to Bella.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Brook, but the truth is,’ she said, ‘Georgina has never loved that pony. She never even gave him a name. And she forced me to lie to my mother for just a few small moments alone with Red. Yes, Red is his name. I gave it to him when Georgina called him nothing . . .’
Bella gaped as the dreadful truth about her daughter finally dawned on her.
‘Right!’ Georgina rounded on Jonathan. ‘Do you want this dumb pony or not?’
‘Georgina!!’ Bella looked close to tears and Jonathan’s parents looked outraged. Tutting, they ushered their son past Georgina.
‘Hey, where are you going?!’ Georgina roared after them.
‘To find a pony that’s been better looked after!’ frowned Jonathan’s dad.
Bryony’s mum put her arm around her. ‘It’s time for us to go too.’
‘But Red . . .’ sobbed Bryony under her breath.
‘Come on, pumpkin,’ Grandpa whispered. ‘Let’s get you home and dry.’ And they left Bella to deal with her daughter, alone.
*
That night, as Bryony lay awake in bed, Grandpa brought her in a mug of cocoa.
‘Just wanted to see you’re okay?’ he said. ‘Before I head home, you know.’
‘I just love Red so much,’ Bryony whispered.
‘I know,’ Grandpa nodded. ‘And Red knows it too. Sometimes,’ he said, ‘the most difficult things have a way of working out right.’
‘I wish . . .’ whispered Bryony, trying hard not to in case she was hurt again.
‘Night, Gramps,’ she said.
‘Aye,’ replied Grandpa. ‘Night-night.’
‘But, Grandpa, where are we going?’ asked Bryony.
‘You’ll see!’ Grandpa nodded back. ‘There’s a problem that needs sorting and you’re the only one who can do it!’
It was Monday afternoon and Bryony had spent the whole day thinking about Red. So what if Jonathan didn’t buy him? Someone else was bound to fall in love with him soon . . .
They rounded the corner into the main street. Miss Pigeon was out sweeping the shop’s step.
‘Well, if it isn’t young Bryony,’ she smiled. ‘You and Emma got second in fête flowers!’
‘I know,’ replied Bryony. Though that seemed such a long time ago . . .
‘I know you know!’ Miss Pigeon now nodded. ‘As I can read the future, you see.’
‘Yes, we know that too!’ Grandpa chuckled softly.
‘And I won the jam and ’er didn’t!’ went on Miss Pigeon, nodding in the direction of Miss Parsley’s pink house. ‘But then ’er went and whacked me with this dirty great crow!’
Miss Pigeon tutted. ‘Where you off to, then?’
‘I’d have thought you’d know that!’ Grandpa grinned.
‘Huh! Just checking!’ Miss Pigeon puffed. ‘Had so many visions today, I have – don’t know if I’m coming or going! Ooooh!’ she cried. ‘And ’ere come a couple more!’
She closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating hard whilst sucking on her vision-enhancing liquorice-stick.
‘Come on, then!’ puffed Miss Pigeon, jiggling her head round a bit as if a few were slightly wedged. But then all of a sudden – out they came . . .
‘I see a hill, I see a car, I see—’
‘Seagull poo on your step?’ asked Grandpa as the seagull it belonged to flapped away.
‘You WHAT?!’ Miss Pigeon’s blue eyes suddenly opened. The seagull had got her slippers too . . .
‘Grr, now I shall have to sponge down me pompoms!’ she ranted.
Leaving her to it, Grandpa waved goodbye, continuing along the street with Bryony. ‘Pity she hadn’t seen that one coming!’ he grinned.
Grandpa seemed really happy today.
‘Hmm . . .’ said Bryony as they climbed the hill together. ‘Hey, Miss Pigeon just saw a hill, didn’t she? I wonder, well – if it was this one?’
Grandpa snorted. But Bryony also then remembered that at the fête, in her fortune-telling tent, Miss Pigeon had foreseen water too. And Sunday’s storm had most definitely been wet!
They continued up the hill and along the headland jutting out into the sea.
‘Grandpa, doesn’t this lead to Seaview Stables?’ asked Bryony. Grandpa was now striding on ahead. Bryony had seen the stables from down on the beach but never actually visited, despite having been invited by Abi.
Bryony had thought of, maybe, popping up there with Red, but Georgina had got better, of course, and taken Red back. And going there without him would have been way too hard.
Bryony sighed. Not nearly as hard as it felt right now, though, trying to avoid seeing ponies going in, their riders all chatting happily. After saying goodbye to Red yesterday it w
as all so sad.
Grandpa usually, thought Bryony, knew exactly what to do when she needed cheering up. But this certainly wasn’t it!
‘Bryony, hi!’ It was Hari who rode the Welsh Connemara cross. She was with Alice and Finn. Hari said they were heading to the stables for their riding lesson, and would stop to talk but they were late.
‘No worries,’ said Bryony. ‘You go on. We’ll catch up another time!’
‘They looked nice,’ said Grandpa when they’d gone. But Bryony was relieved they hadn’t stopped for a chat as she couldn’t have coped with them asking after Red. Not today!
No sooner had they gone, though, than Grandpa said to Bryony, ‘We’d better get going too!’
Bryony didn’t understand. They hadn’t been anywhere yet. But Grandpa started walking and Bryony followed.
‘Hang on!’ called Bryony. ‘Grandpa – wait!’ He was heading into the stables too!
‘Grandpa!’ she gasped, following him across the busy yard. She tried to ignore the children mucking out their ponies, or grooming them, or tacking them up. But the clatter of hooves as ponies came and went, and the sound of people (and ponies!) calling, soon blended into a chorus of happy chaos reminding Bryony so much of her old riding stables back in the city.
‘Grandpa, wait!’ Bryony cried. This was all so difficult! ‘We’re not meant to be here. I—’
‘Don’t worry.’ Grandpa patted her arm. ‘They’re expecting you, pumpkin, you see?’
‘Expecting me, but—’
‘Nearly there now!’ smiled Grandpa. ‘Come on!’
He rounded a corner and Bryony followed. Then suddenly her heart skipped a beat. She closed her eyes. She was imagining it. She opened them again. No – she wasn’t! For there, in a stable, peeping out at her was . . . Red!
‘Grandpa, how . . .?’ Bryony stopped in her tracks. ‘Has someone bought him? Who?’
‘You.’
‘Me?!’
‘Why, yes!’
Grandpa nodded. ‘Surprise!!’ he cried. And Red was now whinnying excitedly.
Then above his stable door Bryony saw . . .
Bryony had to read it several times before she could actually believe it. The paint on the sign was glistening, still not quite dry.
‘He’s . . . mine?’ Bryony could hardly get the word out.
‘All yours!’ Grandpa beamed.
‘But, Grandpa,’ gasped Bryony. ‘I didn’t have enough money!’
‘I helped you, just a little,’ Grandpa nodded.
‘But, Grandpa – you don’t have the money either!’
Then Bryony saw Grandpa’s old driving gloves peeping out of his jacket pocket.
‘G-Grandpa, you didn’t . . .’
‘Sell Matilde?’ Grandpa answered. ‘Why, yes!’
Bryony gasped. ‘But you love that old car!’
‘Not as much as I love you. Or Red.’
‘But when did you sell it?’ Bryony asked. And suddenly . . .
‘Car,’ Bryony gasped. Miss Pigeon had seen a CAR too!
‘I decided,’ said Grandpa, ‘when I left you last night, that my old MG was a finished project and I needed a new project to begin. So I sold the car to a pal from the car show, first thing this morning!’
Grandpa looked genuinely happy. And Bryony found herself smiling back.
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ Grandpa chuckled. ‘Aren’t you going to hug your new pony?’
With that, Bryony raced to the stable door and threw her arms around Red.
‘Oh, Red!’ she cried, smelling his delicious smell. ‘Now that I’ve got you, I’m never going to let you go!’
And Red gave a happy nicker, like he was cheering, ‘Yippee!’
‘And so say all of us!’ Grandpa said with a smile.
Then who should appear but Emma. ‘Hi, Bryony!’ And Josh, Will and Mum were with her too.
‘Wow!’ said Emma. ‘Red looks like he’s smiling.’
‘I know!’ beamed Bryony. ‘Thanks to you all!’
‘And you,’ Emma nodded. ‘What a team!’
‘Oh, but, Grandpa!’ gasped Bryony. ‘You said there was a problem that only I could sort out?’
‘Ah, don’t go looking so worried!’ said Grandpa. ‘The thing is, the money from the car bought Red.’
‘After LOTS of persuading from Grandpa,’ chipped in Mum. ‘Bella was totally fine about it but Georgina really kicked off. In the end that’s what made Bella sell him to you. To teach her daughter that she can’t always have her way!’
‘Anyway,’ smiled Grandpa, ‘where you come in, Bryony, is making sure that Red can stay here.’
He explained that he couldn’t afford full livery for Red.
‘That means . . .’ said Grandpa.
‘I know!’ Bryony nodded. ‘It means I have to be here every day mucking him out. And exercising him, and taking him out on hacks.’
Bryony smiled. ‘That’s fine by me! I wouldn’t have it any other way! With good ponies come great responsibilities, I know that.’
‘There you go,’ Grandpa beamed. ‘Problem sorted!’
Mum also added that part of the deal was that sometimes other children were allowed to ride Red too when they came to Seaview Stables for their lessons.
‘No problem!’ smiled Bryony. ‘Red knows that I’ll always be there for him.’ And after almost losing him for ever – sharing him a bit was the least of her worries now.
Josh offered to help Bryony muck out Red any time she wanted.
‘Me too!’ said Emma.
‘Me three!’ piped up Will. ‘I love shovelling!’
‘And we’ll watch you in competitions,’ said Emma. ‘Those – what are they called? Like pyjamas . . .?’
‘Gymkhanas!’ giggled Bryony. ‘Brilliant! Thanks, Em, I’ll be doing lots of those – i-if Red wants to.’
At this, Red nodded his head and blew what sounded like a big happy raspberry.
‘I think that means: Yes!’ Bryony laughed.
She couldn’t help thinking that Georgina would want her own back. But that was in the future and this was now.
And Miss Pigeon, thought Bryony, was a genius!
When I was little, my brother (who was a lot older than me) had a dog called Prince. I have vague memories of how soft and cuddly Prince was. But Prince died when I was really young and after that I was told we couldn’t have another dog, even though I always longed for one.
I was allowed to keep the goldfish that I won in fairgrounds. They used to come in bags, poor things. I used to talk to them and watch them swimming round, but obviously you can’t cuddle a goldfish . . .
I was then allowed a budgie and I used to let him out to fly around the front room. He was called Joey and was green and swore a bit, which was embarrassing when guests came. I can’t remember who taught him the swear words. He said other, much better words too, like: ‘Hello!’ and: ‘Who’s a pretty boy, then?’. Still though, Joey wasn’t all that cuddly, you know?
Then one day, when I was walking home from the shops, a ‘stray’ kitten just appeared from nowhere and followed me home. (I’d like to think that she was a stray anyway . . .)
At first my mother said we couldn’t keep her. But I was tenacious, which is a posh way of saying a right nag, and eventually my mother caved in. So – hooray! – the tortoiseshell kitten became mine and I called her Tibby.
From then on, Tibby was cuddled so much (and often wheeled round in my doll’s pram). She listened when I was sad, purred when I was happy and occasionally swiped me when she’d had enough of the doll’s pram.
Tibby had a long and very contented life. She became my mother’s companion when I finally left home to go to college. Pets understand when words fall short. They have instinct, and if you treat them well, they’ll love you unconditionally.
Since Tibby, I’ve had many more pets, all different and all very special. I’ve never had a pony. Not yet anyway. But, who knows, maybe one day . . .
Tracey
Corderoy
First published in Great Britain in 2018 by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd
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Copyright © 2018 Tracey Corderoy Ltd
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