Black Tide

by Caroline Clough

  He lifted it to his eye, took imaginary aim at a tree outside of the window and pressed a button on the top.

  FLASH!

  Taken by surprise, Toby dropped the camera onto the floor. He bent to pick it up but as he did so it whirled and buzzed and spat out a damp sheet of paper from the front.

  “What’s that?” As he stared at the paper an image began to form of the tree outside the window.

  Look at that! That’s fab! It’s a camera with a built-in printer. That’s amazing! I think I’ll give it to Tash for a Christmas present.

  Carrying his booty carefully, Toby went back to the lounge bar where Tash had set a table with a white tablecloth and shining silver cutlery. Toby put out the crackers and then sat down, hiding the camera under his seat. Tash came through with two plates brimming with ham, green peas and potatoes.

  “All out of tins!” she proudly announced, placing the plate carefully in front of Toby. They pulled their crackers and put the green-and-red paper hats on their heads. Toby read out the rubbish jokes to Tash, who laughed loudly at them all. After that Tash produced a Christmas pudding that she had discovered wrapped in foil, and had cooked.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, “five hours of steam will have killed all the bugs.”

  “Tastes delicious!” mumbled Toby through a mouthful of the rich moist pudding. “I can’t remember the last time I had such a wonderful meal. Thanks to the chef.” He passed Tash the box containing the camera.

  “A present for me?” she asked, opening the box.

  “Go on, point it at me and press that button on the top,” begged Toby. Tash followed his instructions and shrieked with laughter when the photo popped out the front. It then developed in front of her eyes, showing a bleary-faced Toby in a red paper hat.

  “It’s you, Tobes!” she cried, waving the photograph in the air.

  “Let me take one of you now,” said Toby. Tash licked her fingers and smeared her black hair down and then smiled crookedly at the camera, showing her pearly white teeth.

  “Great!” yelled Toby as the film came out with a smiling Tash on it.

  “I haven’t got you a present, but what would you have liked?” asked Tash.

  “Well,” Toby stretched out his legs, “apart from the obvious, such as seeing my dad and Sylvie, or a new car, I suppose a hot bath would be pretty high on my list. I think I don’t smell too good.”

  “Me too!” Tash cried, laughing.

  Afterwards, they had a brief argument about clearing up the dinner. Toby thought that they should just leave the mess, seeing that no one else was likely to come there for a very long time. Tash thought that it was only polite to leave the place as tidy as they had found it. In the end they agreed that they would leave it until the morning and then give the place a quick tidy. Toby stacked more broken chairs onto the fire in the sitting room before they went to bed.

  “Gosh, I’m full,” groaned Toby, crawling onto his settee and snuggling into a pile of blankets. “Good night and happy Christmas, Tash,” he murmured.

  Happy Christmas Dad and Sylvie, wherever you are. I don’t suppose you had such a nice Christmas as me. I hope we’ll be together next Christmas!

  The wind was rattling against the window when Toby opened his eyes to a new day. He shivered. The fire had gone out in the night and the room felt damp and icy. He yawned, and his warm breath froze into white clouds in the air.

  Better get going, I suppose. Be nice to stay here a bit longer but that won’t get Dad and Sylvie rescued.

  Bracing himself, he threw back the covers and pulled on his boots. Tash was asleep on the opposite settee, softly snoring under a mound of blankets. Toby stretched and stumbled to the window, then scratched at the white swirls of frost that patterned the inside of the glass. He picked up his new binoculars and stared out at the grey foggy landscape. He frowned and then looked again. There seemed to be some movement on the road leading down the valley, past the hotel. He struggled with the focus control, and then took another look.

  Oh no! The raiders are back! They must be looking for Carl and the Land Rover.

  “Tash! Quick! We must leave now! Get your stuff!”

  Tash leapt out of her cocoon of blankets and shot out into room. Toby was taken aback by her quick response; she was obviously used to crises.

  “I’ll get the ponies ready. You pack some food!” She pulled on her jacket as she left.

  Toby raced into the kitchen and started throwing packets and tins into a rucksack.

  Remember a tin opener and something to heat food on! What about blankets and spare clothes?

  He ran round like a mad thing, chucking anything he could see that might be useful into the bag.

  How much can a pony carry? Can we take pots and pans? Have we got room for more tins?

  He sprinted into the bar and picked up the photos they’d taken and stuffed them into the pocket of his jeans.

  Map, torches, matches… What else do we need?

  He picked up the two bags of food then ran outside to the barn where Tash was tacking up the ponies. His fingers trembling with shock, he tied the bags onto the front of the saddles.

  “You take Daisy and Flossie. Get on one and lead the other,” ordered Tash.

  Toby went quietly into the stable where the two ponies were standing with their saddles and bridles on.

  “Come on ladies. Now be nice to Toby. I need you to be good.” He undid their lead ropes and pulled them through the barn doors and over to the mounting block where he scrambled onto Daisy’s back. Fumbling frantically, he tried to get his feet into the stirrups before the pony set off.

  “Hang on tight! Daisy will just follow Molly,” called out Tash as she rode by on Molly, leading Lulu. She disappeared round the side of the barn, heading towards the open moorland. Daisy decided that she didn’t want to be left behind and wheeled round sharply, leaving the yard at a sharp trot.

  “Steady!” cried Toby, bouncing about alarmingly in the saddle, trying to remember everything Tash had taught him the day before. He hung onto the reins with one hand to steer, and grasped the pommel at the front with the other, desperately trying to stay on. Just as he thought he couldn’t hold on any longer, Tash slowed down to wait for him. She reined in Molly and pulled the map out of her pocket. Toby struggled to get out his binoculars, and scanned the land to the north.

  “That must have been the raiders looking for their mate Carl,” he said. “Wonder what they’ll think when they find he’s not in the Land Rover. Maybe they’ll assume he’s wandered off looking for shelter. Bet they head to Kingshouse – it’s the only place for miles. I should have been keeping watch. We could easily have been caught!”

  Toby could have kicked himself. It didn’t pay to get too comfy in this battle for survival.

  18. Race Across Rannoch

  Toby sat and studied the frozen white moorland in front of them. Heavy banks of freezing fog rolled along the valley bottom, making it difficult to see which way they needed to go.

  Tash was peering at the map, folding it this way and that to stop it being blown away. Molly didn’t seem to mind the paper cracking and snapping in her ears.

  “Here,” she said. “This path is called the West Highland Way. It goes to Crianlarich.” She pointed to a black peaty track peeking through the snow. It came out not far from the main road and Toby searched frantically up and down, pressing his binoculars to his chapped face.

  “We’d better cross the road quickly,” he warned Tash. “We don’t want to be spotted by any raiders driving along it.” She nodded and, pointing Molly’s head towards the road, nudged the pony’s sides with her heels. Molly set off at a fast trot with Lulu obediently trotting behind. Daisy stuck her head down and with a flying buck took off after them, Toby clinging on desperately.

  “Whoa!” he yelled in Daisy’s ear, but she ignored him and kept charging after her mates. Flossie didn’t want to go any faster and steadfastly jogged behind so that Toby, hanging onto her rope, w
as being pulled backwards.

  As they skidded over the road and hit the track on the other side, Toby caught sight of something in the distance. It was the white van heading back towards them, its headlights twinkling in the mist. Toby whistled to get Tash’s attention and pointed to the vehicle charging along the bottom of the valley. She nodded and urged the ponies faster. The cold icy wind whistled past Toby’s face as Daisy took off with a powerful surge of her hind legs. His heart jumped into his mouth as he felt the energy pulsing through him, carrying him forward at speed over the tussocky clumps of grass and heather.

  Just as well Daisy’s sure-footed! I wouldn’t want her to trip going at this rate.

  Flossie was now galloping alongside Daisy. Clods of frosty earth and snow flew up from the feet of the ponies in front, bashing Toby sharply on the chin.

  The ponies were enjoying themselves galloping as a herd across the snowy heath with the wind whipping their flying manes and their tails stretched out like banners behind them. Toby would have enjoyed it, too, if it hadn’t been for the threat of the raiders. He soon worked out that the best stance was to lean forward, standing up in the stirrups and hanging on like crazy to Daisy’s mane.

  This is just like being a cowboy! Bit like the Wild West out here – what with the bad guys chasing us!

  As they put distance between themselves and the road, mist enveloped the four ponies and their riders. Toby hauled on the reins, calling to Tash,

  “I think we can slow down now.” The wind had sucked the air from his chest and he needed to catch his breath. “They won’t be able to see us; it’s too misty.”

  Tash nodded. “You’re right, and we don’t want to tire out the ponies too quickly either.” She brought Molly back to a walk and patted her sweaty neck. The ponies were thoroughly excited by their dash to safety. They snorted wildly and danced sideways as steam rose from their hairy coats.

  “Settle down now, girl,” ordered Toby as Daisy jogged and pranced behind Tash’s ponies. At last she steadied to a fast walk, which Toby found surprisingly comfortable. He had a chance to look about as they crossed the moor. The ceaseless wind had blown much of the snow onto the heather in drifts, revealing the black sticky wells of the peat hags.

  “This is Rannoch Moor!” Tash called back to him, throwing her arms open wide to take in the whole landscape.

  Rannoch Moor, eh? What a bleak-looking place. I wouldn’t want to be here on my own.

  With the miserable biting wind chafing at his face, Toby felt glad of the strong warm body of Daisy carrying him along, even if she did have a mind of her own. The presence of the ponies was comforting; they were like great big bears bumbling along. He somehow felt so much safer. Even when Daisy’s unshod hooves occasionally slipped on the slushy track, her surefootedness kept her from falling.

  “Good girl, that’s right, you follow Molly and Lulu and don’t get any mad ideas about galloping off.” Toby tried talking to the pony in the singsong voice he had heard Tash use, but he wasn’t convinced Daisy was paying any attention to him.

  As the morning’s low mist lifted, he became aware of the massive craggy mountains that stood like dark sentinels guarding the moor, their snow-capped tops disappearing into the clouds. Dwarfed by the majestic landscape, he saw there was not a stick of shelter, not even a tree or large boulder under which they could escape the chill wind.

  Eventually they came to a copse of tall, scrubby Scots pines and Tash stopped again to consult the map. Toby got out his binoculars and studied the barren terrain for any sign of the men. But the road was way over to the east now and Toby and Tash were headed due south.

  The ponies strode on, seemingly oblivious to the cold and the gusting snow. As the day wore on, Toby found himself falling asleep, lulled by the gentle rocking motion.

  He woke suddenly, when Daisy swerved dramatically to a halt.

  “Huh?” he moaned. “What’s happening?” His feet were numb with cold and his bottom was sore with being in the saddle for hours. “Where are we?”

  “We’ve travelled quickly and come a good distance but the ponies need a rest now.” Tash swung her leg over her saddle and dropped to the ground. “We’d better find a safe place for the night before it gets dark.”

  “Ok,” muttered Toby, stiffly trying to get off Daisy. “Stand Daisy! Whoa! Let me get down!”

  But whatever had brought Daisy to a sudden standstill was still unsettling her. The big pony veered violently around, standing on Toby’s foot.

  “Ah!” he yelled, pushing her off and grabbing hold of the reins. But Daisy wheeled around and around Toby, striking out with her foreleg to impatiently paw the ground. Then, snorting through her wide velvety nostrils, she flung back her head and neighed loudly straight into Toby’s ear.

  “Hey! Stop trying to deafen me, will you! What’s the matter with this mad brute? Tash, do something quick before it crushes me!”

  The other ponies, sensing Daisy’s panic, started to get anxious too. Flossie charged forward, barging into the back of Daisy, and knocking Toby sideways.

  Tash stepped forwards and, calling softly to the ponies, tried to calm them. But now Molly and Lulu started to stamp and whinny, tossing their heads in the air and calling out into the growing dusk.

  “Get the ponies’ tack off NOW!” ordered Tash, deftly undoing the girth straps on Molly’s saddle and pulling it off to one side. Toby copied her, reaching under Daisy’s saddle flap and fumbling with the straps. As Daisy charged to his right, Toby jerked the straps free and dumped the saddle on the ground. Now all he had to do was get to Flossie and remove their bags, but as Daisy broke free from the reins, he found himself trapped between the two ponies, their large rumps crushing him.

  “Get over!” he yelled, pushing with all his strength against their wet hairy flanks. Flossie momentarily stood still while Toby yanked the bags from her back. Then he had to let go of her lead rein as she buffeted him into Daisy’s hind legs. Daisy took fright, lifted a leg and kicked out, catching Toby on his knee.

  “Blast! She got me!” he screamed, clutching his leg in agony. The two ponies, thoroughly upset now, snorted and took off across the moor with their tails kinked over their backs.

  Tash was still trying to hang onto Molly and Lulu but they, seeing their mates disappear, wrenched the reins from Tash’s hands, twirled round and galloped off. Toby watched as the plump behinds of the ponies vanished into the gloom.

  “What got into them?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” gasped Tash, the colour draining from her flushed face. “Daisy got spooked, and she’s the lead mare of the herd so the others followed her.” Toby could see Tash was shocked by the ponies’ behaviour.

  “WHAT spooked her?”

  “I don’t know, but we need to get somewhere safe quickly.”

  “Now you’re scaring me.”

  Toby scrambled up a nearby knoll and scanned the dusky gloaming with his binoculars. It was too dark to see much but, as the clouds trailed away from the waning moon, the silvery light picked out a shadowy building in the valley below.

  “There!” he called to Tash, who was staring despondently at the discarded saddles. “There’s a place in the valley below!”

  He ran back down to her and hauled a saddle over each arm.

  “We’d better take the tack in case the ponies come back,” he said, as a sense of dread began to gnaw at his insides.

  If there is something out there we’ll be safest inside. It couldn’t be the dogs could it? Have they caught up with us?

  Toby and Tash dragged themselves down the woody hillside. Neither said a word.

  The building turned out to be an old shooting lodge with a porch held up by knobbly tree trunks. Toby shoved the door open into a small hallway full of dried dead leaves. He pushed them aside with his boot, dropping the saddles down onto a wicker chair. Turning on his torch, he carefully opened the next door. The light from his torch flickered over a large vaulted room, picking out the glassy eyes of
dozens of stags’ heads lining the walls.

  Yuk! Mum wouldn’t have liked this! Sylvie would hate it, too.

  He stepped into the room and shone the light on the ceiling, where hundreds of pairs of antlers caught the beam, throwing stick-like shadows onto the walls. Toby grimaced. The hall was like a cemetery for animals, with several larger stuffed heads of rhino, antelope and wildebeest hung over a huge stone fireplace.

  Tash quietly entered the room behind him. He heard her sigh heavily as she threw down the bags. He turned to face her.

  “Tash, it’s not your fault about the ponies. You weren’t to know that they’d get spooked and take off like that. You shouldn’t feel bad.”

  Toby saw her slumped shoulders shrug in resignation. She seemed to be blaming herself for the mess they were in. They had no transport now and they were stuck in the middle of nowhere, miles from where they wanted to be.

  “I don’t know why the ponies got so scared,” she said sadly, pulling her wolf coat out of a bag and tying it around her waist. Tugging the wolf mask down over her face, she started to take food and provisions out of the saddle-bags. Toby heard her sniff loudly and looked away; she wouldn’t want him to see her cry.

  He got out the portable gas stove he had found at Kingshouse and assembled it in the grate of the large fireplace. He placed a billycan on the top, turned on the gas and lit the flame. He pulled up two stout armchairs from the back of the hall, then opened a tin of tuna using his penknife to rip up the lid. Tash came and sat in the armchair opposite him, staring miserably into the fireplace.

  Toby cooked up a tin of cheesy pasta and stirred in some tuna. Spooning half of it into another can, he passed it to Tash. The darkness of the surrounding hall wrapped around them as they sat and ate the dinner in silence.