by Amy Brown
‘I did that, too! With my cousin,’ Nellie piped up, surprising everyone.
‘Did you?’ Casey sounded suspicious, as if it were his childhood experience and no one else’s.
‘Yep, I know exactly what you mean. Then we’d tickle each other’s feet.’
‘You did it at Christmas?’
‘No, all year round. Whenever we slept over at each other’s house. So I guess often it was at Christmas time.’
‘Any Christmas traditions in your family, Jade?’ Flora said kindly, unaware of how difficult this topic was for Jade.
‘Um, we cooked a ham last year,’ Jade said. ‘But …’ Then she decided she wanted to tell everyone; she trusted them. ‘But since Mum died it hasn’t been very traditional.’
Nellie looked up from the egg whites she was beating. Flora brought a hand up to her mouth. ‘I’m sorry, Jade. It must be very hard for you at this time of year.’
There was that familiar feeling of her throat closing and opening, and her face flushing. Jade put a strawberry in her mouth and concentrated on its sweet juiciness. ‘Yeah. But I like it here. Thank you for having me.’
Understanding that a hug would be too much, Flora simply squeezed Jade’s shoulder. Her eyes were suddenly very shiny, too.
‘When did your mum die, Jade?’ Casey asked.
‘Casey!’ Nellie chided.
‘Nearly two years ago.’ Jade didn’t mind talking about it to Casey. She wasn’t used to anyone being so direct. It made talking easier, somehow. Before Jade knew it, she had begun rambling on about the accident, her dad’s time in prison, staying with Granddad, finding Pip. The way that Casey seemed interested in the story, not in Jade’s feelings, took the pressure off. Without even any tears, Jade found herself able to talk about her mum — to recount memories she hadn’t even let herself think about since before she moved to Flaxton.
Everyone listened attentively. Casey chortled when Jade told them about how she had stolen Pip from the pound paddock.
‘I knew you had some stories in you,’ Casey said, when Jade finally felt ready to stop. ‘That’s the consolation about troubles — they make good stories. One day we’ll all laugh about this eviction business, eh?’
Flora looked grim. ‘I hope you’re right, Case; I hope you’re right.’
When the fridge was full of bowls and plates covered in clingfilm, holding marinating meat, prepared vegetables and sweet things, it was time for bed.
‘Sweet dreams, my little helpers,’ Flora said as the girls made their way to the sleep-out. ‘An early start as usual tomorrow, but a relaxing day, I hope.’
‘Good night, Aunt Flora,’ Andy called, teasingly. But Flora seemed so tired she didn’t even react to being called the name she detested.
‘Have you two got her a present?’ Nellie asked through her toothbrush, as they prepared for bed.
‘Dad’s bringing a bottle of wine,’ Jade said. ‘I wish I ’d thought of it earlier.’
‘Me, too,’ Nellie sighed. ‘I just don’t get into town often enough. What about you, Andy?’
‘I’ve made something, but it’s a bit lame,’ Andy said, pulling a book out of her suitcase. Inside the book was a piece of paper, kept carefully flat and clean. On the paper, Andy had drawn a Samudra ‘family portrait’, with each of the horses.
‘Can you guess who’s who?’ Andy asked. ‘I tried to capture their personalities.’
Nellie grinned. ‘That has to be fat little Dumpling, with his head in the feed bin.’
‘Yep!’
‘And that’s obviously beautiful Sam,’ Jade said, pointing at a flaxen-maned chestnut prancing in the centre of the page. Most of the other horses and humans were staring adoringly at him.
‘That’s right.’
‘Is this supposed to be me?’ Nellie asked, pointing at a glamorous figure riding Precious.
‘Yeah. Sorry. I’m better at drawing horses than people.’
‘No, it’s great! Very flattering.’
‘Maybe we could say this and the wine is from all of us?’ Andy suggested.
‘We couldn’t do that — it’s your drawing!’ Nellie said.
Repeating what she had said to her dad, Jade told them that she thought the best gift for Flora would be somehow foiling Kim Bandt’s plans.
‘Easier said than done, I reckon,’ Nellie said. ‘But let’s do everything in our power to save Samudra. Agreed?’
‘Agreed!’ Andy and Jade chorused as the light was turned out.
Jade was woken by Nellie’s yell. Careful not to roll right off the top bunk, she turned in her sleeping bag and saw a small, fat pony with tinsel around its neck, nuzzling at Nellie’s hair.
‘Andy!’ Nellie yelled again.
Helpless with giggling, Andy, who had been hiding outside the sleep-out door, came in and clipped a lead rope onto Dumpling’s halter. ‘Don’t be angry, Nellie,’ Andy said sweetly. ‘It’s tradition.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Nellie said, calmer now that her hair was safe from Dumpling’s greedy lips. ‘Dumpling comes into the kitchen for Christmas lunch, not the sleep-out at the crack of dawn to chew on my hair!’
‘This new tradition is funnier, though, isn’t it, Jade?’ Andy said, beginning to giggle again.
Unable to hide her amusement, Jade nodded.
‘I am outnumbered by immature little girls,’ Nellie said. ‘What a start to Christmas Day, eh?’
Dumpling, practically as tame as a dog, was happy to loiter in the back yard, trailing her lead rope and nosing at the tussocky grass, while the girls got dressed and ready for the usual morning feeds.
Although the horses didn’t know it was a special day, Flora had presents of carrots and peppermints ready for her favourites. When all the buckets had been distributed, Sam the stallion, Poppet and Precious, and Piper, Pip and Taniwha were each given a treat.
‘Other people will be disappointed, but I think it’s a relief,’ Flora said, surveying the overcast sky. The air was heavy and warm, ready to rain. ‘Joyeux Noël, girls. That’s what the French backpackers wrote in their card. Much nicer than “Merry Christmas”, don’t you think?’
‘Look at that!’ Nellie interrupted Flora’s musings. ‘What a show-off.’ She was standing, arms crossed, proudly watching Sam. With his flaxen tail fanned out behind him, the stallion was trotting along the fence line, neck arched, nostrils flaring at the humid air.
‘He looks like he’s moving in slow motion,’ Jade breathed.
‘Easily the most handsome horse I’ve ever owned,’ Flora said with a little smile. ‘Sorry, Basil.’ She was rescuing a feed bucket that the thin Appaloosa had started kicking like a soccer ball. ‘But you know you’re not a looker, don’t you?’
With the horses fed and fussed over, it was time for the humans’ Christmas breakfast. While the girls had been busy preparing the animals’ food, Flora had set the table and whipped up a batch of rolls. It was a simple but delicious feast of steaming hot, aromatic bread, on which the butter melted deliciously. Jade and Andy chose home-made strawberry jam on their rolls, while Nellie and Casey went for thin slices of Swiss cheese. Flora, ignoring the others’ disgust at the weird combination, piled cheese on top of jam. As they ate, the relaxing sound of fat raindrops thudding on corrugated iron began. Nellie and Flora looked at each other, silently questioning whether it was worth running out to cover the horses.
‘It’s still very warm,’ Flora decided out loud, helping herself to another roll. ‘More coffee, Casey? Nell? Would you like something, Sir William?’ Casey’s cat, somehow understanding the day’s festivity, had followed his master all the way past the horses right into Flora’s kitchen. His presence might have had something to do with the fragrance of baking ham that was wafting from her oven. Fond of all animals, Flora offered the shameless tabby a trimmed-off scrap of ham fat. Sniffing it for a moment, Sir William Buller snatched the offering from Flora’s fingers and ran out the door, clearly concerned that his treat was under threat.
> ‘Do you believe in the twenty-minute rule, Nellie?’ Andy asked. She had finished her breakfast and Jade could tell her friend was eyeing the ocean.
‘The what?’
‘The rule about waiting twenty minutes after eating before going for a swim.’
‘I don’t think it matters if you’re just wallowing in the sea. It’s only if you’re planning on swimming energetically, in which case you’d get stomach cramps or something. I don’t know.’
‘By the time you two have helped me bag up the shortbread, you’ll have digested your breakfast and be able to swim,’ Flora suggested.
The plan was to give bags of home-made shortbread to Mata and Ngaire, Jade’s dad and granddad, and to Andy’s mum and sister. Working in a production line, Jade filled the cellophane bags as decoratively as she could, then passed them to Andy, who tied them up with red and green ribbon.
When the six bags were finished and hung on the Christmas tree (a lopsided macrocarpa branch ‘borrowed’ from the neighbouring property’s tree), the girls got into their togs. Nellie wasn’t coming — her idea of a Christmas holiday was holding a plastic cup of bubbly wine in one hand and combing Sam’s flaxen mane with the other. She gave the stallion so much attention that he smelt more of leave-in conditioner than horse.
‘Why don’t you have a ride?’ Andy asked, as she and Jade headed off to the beach, towels wrapped around them, raindrops splashing on their bare shoulders.
‘Nah, I’m too tipsy to give him the respect he deserves,’ Nellie said, taking another sip from her cup. ‘I just like talking to him. But why don’t you two swim the ponies? Pikelet and Dumpling love a dip.’
Andy looked at Jade, excited. ‘All we need is halters. They’re so small and quiet. What do you reckon, Jade?’
‘Okay.’ Jade had never ridden in togs before, but little Dumpling seemed so approachable.
The girls didn’t even need a mounting block to get on the backs of the sturdy little ponies. Andy vaulted elegantly over Pikelet’s tail. Jade followed her lead, apologizing to Dumpling for her clumsiness. The quiet riding school pony barely turned a hair.
Riding down the path past Casey’s container, they saw Sir William Buller stalking something, probably a mouse, in the youngsters’ paddock. Jade noticed that her jandalled feet could almost meet under Dumpling’s wide girth.
The beach was dotted with families of swimmers despite the rain. As they reached the sand, the ponies’ ears pricked. Accustomed to the salt water, they were eager rather than nervous to enter the waves.
‘Just hold the mane and lead rope,’ Andy said, laughing as Pikelet plunged into the sea up to his chest. Dumpling followed, just as confident. Soon the water was up to Dumpling’s withers and Jade’s hips. The pony’s head was stretched out, nose up away from the water. Jade wanted to slide off Dumpling’s back and swim next to her, but was nervous of the pony’s hooves under water; she knew what it was like to be trodden on and didn’t fancy spending Christmas with an injured foot. Instead, Jade held on to the pony’s mane and tried not to interfere with her swimming. Dumpling followed Pikelet, who was ploughing through the water back towards the beach now.
‘It’s Mum and Rhian!’ Andy called out suddenly, pointing up to the dirt road that wound down the side of Bare Mountain, where a small blue car was sending up a cloud of dust. ‘Let’s go back. I’m starting to get cold anyway,’ she added, clicking her tongue and gently kicking at Pikelet’s wet sides. ‘Trot on, Mr Pikelet.’
Trotting bareback, especially on a slippery, wet back, was a challenge. Jade found herself sliding from side to side as the ponies trotted back past the youngsters’ paddock. As they approached the house, Jade saw not only Andy’s mum’s blue car parked in the driveway, but also her granddad’s old white Falcon. Andy’s and Jade’s families were already introducing themselves to each other.
‘Did your ponies shrink in the sea?’ Granddad asked, smirking.
Jade giggled. ‘My legs can nearly reach right around Dumpling’s middle.’ She slid off the pony’s back and patted her wet neck.
‘Merry Christmas, love,’ Jade’s dad said. ‘I’d give you a hug, but you’re soaking.’
‘Aren’t you two cold?’ Andy’s mum asked. Rhian, Andy’s sixteen-year-old sister, was standing behind her mother and gazing wistfully at the sea. As Andy had said, Rhian seemed entirely uninterested in horses.
The girls agreed that they were actually a bit cold now. Once the ponies had been returned to their paddock and the girls had changed, they joined everyone in the kitchen, where Flora’s Christmas CD was playing yet again. Nellie, who had put on a black dress — a contrast to her usual grubby jeans and T-shirts — was sitting in the corner with Sir William curled up in her lap, laughing with Casey and Rhian. Mata and Ngaire, whose preferred forms of transport were grazing in the paddock with the geldings, were passing bottles of beer to Granddad and Jade’s dad. Flora, as usual, was wearing an apron and peering into the oven. Her sister, Andy’s mum, was hovering nearby, wanting to help but unsure of what needed doing.
‘If you really want to help, you can make sure everyone has a drink and a place set for them at the table,’ Flora said irritably. Although she loved cooking, she didn’t much enjoy sharing her kitchen.
‘Everyone’s fine, Flo. Are you sure I can’t make a salad or put the potatoes on?’
‘Everything is under control!’ Flora snapped. ‘Put a paper hat on and sit down, for goodness sake. Pull a cracker with your daughter. Pass around the peanuts. Just leave the cooking to me.’
Andy’s mum sighed and retreated from the kitchen. ‘It’s the same every year,’ she said to Jade and Andy. ‘All I want to do is help. She’s been letting you two help around the riding school, I hope.’
The girls nodded. Both of them had a mouthful of chips.
‘How’s it been here? You like it, Jade?’ Andy’s mum had a nice way of talking to everyone in the same way. It made Jade feel grown up.
‘It’s been amazing. Perfect, except for the whole eviction thing. But we’ve been doing our best to stop it.’ Jade began talking about the pony rides and the petition before realizing that this was all news to Andy’s mum.
‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Andy?’ she demanded. ‘This is terrible news. Dreadful.’ Watching Andy’s mum frowning and shaking her head, Jade felt guilty.
‘I thought Flora would have said something,’ Andy said in a small voice.
‘Flora! What’s this about the council evicting you? What’s going on?’ Andy’s mum suddenly sounded more like Flora’s older sister, despite actually being younger.
‘We’ll discuss this over lunch and not before,’ Flora replied tartly. ‘Right now, I’m too busy to explain.’
This was, in Andy’s mum’s opinion, an incentive to encourage everyone to sit at the dining table.
Nellie attempted to put her paper hat on Sir William, but it was far too large and ended up hanging around the tom cat’s neck in an undignified fashion.
‘Leave Sir William Buller alone,’ Casey warned. ‘Or he might nip you. He does that, you know.’
‘If Sir William nips, he’ll get no ham from me,’ Nellie said, addressing the cat. At that moment Flora carried the heavy platter of ham to the table for Casey to carve. Jade could see her granddad watching Casey’s carving technique critically.
After about six trips back and forth from kitchen to table, Flora finally sat down, satisfied with her work. Along with the ham was a bowl of new potatoes from Casey’s garden, three kinds of salad, more fresh bread rolls and a wide array of condiments, many homemade.
‘Merry Christmas, everyone,’ Flora said, calm at last, having finished the most laborious part of the day. She held out a cracker to her sister, as a peace offering. They both tugged, there was a bang and that lovely smell of fireworks, and a little plastic toy wrapped in paper fell onto the table.
‘Is it a joke or a riddle?’ Nellie asked, as Flora unfolded the paper.
‘A joke. A joke
just for you, actually, Nell,’ Flora said, grinning. ‘“What did Santa say to the smoker?”’
‘It’s been nearly a whole month since my last cigarette!’ Nellie protested.
‘All right, fair enough. But what did Santa say?’ Flora asked again.
‘I don’t know. What did Santa say to the smoker?’ Nellie asked.
‘“Please don’t smoke, it’s bad for my elf!”’
Everyone groaned as Flora cackled.
‘That’s what Christmas is about, though,’ Andy’s mum said. ‘Bad puns and good food. Let’s all thank our wonderful chef: Flora.’
When the food was dished out, a satisfied almost-silence fell over the table; there was no talk, just eating. The quiet was broken eventually by Andy’s mum.
‘So, what’s happening with Samudra?’
Flora took a sip of wine. ‘The council wants to evict me and subdivide the horse paddocks.’
‘Can they do that?’
‘It seems so,’ Flora said. ‘But we’re fighting, aren’t we, girls?’ The girls nodded uncertainly.
‘It might not be as simple as that,’ Jade’s dad said, surprising everyone.
‘I know a petition doesn’t mean much, but what else can we do?’ Flora asked. She seemed weary and no longer interested in her food.
‘That’s not what I meant,’ Jade’s dad said quickly. ‘The petition’s a great idea. What I meant was that it might not be as simple as you think for the council to evict you. Since Jade told me what was happening, I’ve done a bit of research. It’s the sort of story that’d be perfect for the Flaxton Times.’
‘What kind of research?’ Casey was listening attentively now, too.
‘The property developer, Kim Bandt — her name rang bells with me. I’ve followed it up, and she has an odd connection to the council. It doesn’t seem legit to me. I don’t want to get your hopes up yet, but it could be a useful loophole.’
Flora’s eyes had lit up. ‘I don’t really know what you mean, but if you think there’s a chance that they can’t kick us off the property, that’s great. I’ll drink to that.’ Flora raised her glass. But before everyone said ‘Cheers!’, Jade’s dad cut in.