Hopes

Home > Other > Hopes > Page 7
Hopes Page 7

by Linda Chapman


  Swallowing, she rested her head against the window of the horsebox. It was beginning to feel like she was trapped in a nightmare. Joe was leaving and, she realized with a shiver, the results of Spirit’s biopsy were due the next day.

  She stared out of the window, her stomach tying itself in knots, as they chugged on through the dark night.

  Chapter Seven

  THE PHONE CALL Ellie had been dreading came after school. Even across the phone line she could hear the serious note in John’s deep voice. “Ellie, it’s not good news.”

  Five minutes later, Ellie walked down the yard, everything feeling as if it was distorted, removed from reality. Turning towards Spirit’s stable, she broke into a run. He was standing, one hind leg resting, his neck low but as she opened the door he lifted his head and whinnied.

  The words John had just spoken to her echoed through her head. “It is lymphosarcoma… It’s spread through his body and is untreatable… He’ll gradually lose more and more weight… He won’t have long… At some point you will have to make the decision to have him put to sleep…”

  “No!” Ellie burst out with a sob.

  Spirit breathed on her face in surprise.

  She felt as if she was falling, plummeting through the air with no safety net or anything to catch her. He was going to die. She cried and cried, while Spirit nuzzled her patiently.

  At last the tears dried up, and in the peace and quiet Ellie felt their minds merge.

  Oh, Spirit. She didn’t know what to say. How could she explain?

  She didn’t have to.

  I think I am going to die.

  No! Ellie couldn’t bear it.

  I am.

  How do you know? she asked him.

  I can feel it. Deep inside. My energy’s fading. I’m getting weaker.

  Ellie shook her head. You’re ill, but we can do stuff. There’re all sorts of things we can try.

  I am not afraid of dying.

  But I’m afraid of you dying!

  She felt the change in his feelings. He raised his head and looked at her. “I am,” she whispered out loud, stroking his cheek. “Please…don’t die. I need you, Spirit.”

  He breathed out softly. Then I will stay.

  When Ellie finally left the stable, Joe was the first person she saw. He took one look at her face and knew. “So you’ve spoken to John?”

  She nodded, her throat too tight to talk.

  “Oh, Els.” Joe came over and took her hands. “I’m so sorry.”

  He moved to put his arms around her but, shaking her head, Ellie pulled away. She didn’t want to cry any more just then; she didn’t want to be comforted. She wanted to change things—make it all better.

  “I’m going inside,” she managed to say. “To look on the Internet.”

  “OK. Do you want me to tell everyone?”

  She nodded and then went to the computer. She found out all she could about lymphosarcoma. Time and time again she read words that all said the same: most cases do not survive more than a week or a few months.

  She rubbed her eyes. She couldn’t accept it—she wouldn’t. There had to be something she could do. John had ruled out chemotherapy or aggressive drugs on the phone. He believed the cancer had spread too far through Spirit’s body. Ellie followed links to holistic sites that suggested a number of different therapies and remedies. She made a list of everything: herbal extracts, Bach flower remedies, Chinese medicine, acupuncture. Her grandmother in New Zealand kept her supplied with a generous allowance and most of the time Ellie had nothing to spend it on because her life revolved around the horses. She would use all the money she had to buy whatever remedies were supposed to help. She would do whatever it took. She would make him better.

  Over the next few weeks, Ellie tried everything. Ignoring her uncle’s mockery, she ordered flower remedies and herbs and fed them to Spirit on apples and carrots which he ate, she sensed, more to please her than because he wanted to. She handfed him mashes flavored with fresh mint or molasses and honey. She massaged him with healing aromatherapy oils and even called in an acupuncturist. Her grandmother was lovely, promising to give her all the money she needed.

  Ellie tried healing him herself. When she’d been little, she’d had the feeling that she could sense pain in animals’ bodies and, by putting her hands where the pain was, she could help ease it. She wasn’t sure if it ever worked and actually did any good, but she’d always hoped it had. She remembered it now. If she could talk to horses, maybe it wasn’t so mad to think she could heal them too. Since she had met Ray she had been reading on the Internet about people who could communicate with animals. Many of them also talked about being able to heal too so she tried placing her hands on him and letting energy flow through her, listening to her instincts and letting her hands move around his body just as they said they did.

  When she touched him and let her hands be guided by her instincts, feeling her fingertips pulsing and tingling as she moved them gently over his body, his eyes would half close and his head sink down. He would often sway slightly as he relaxed and sigh. She wasn’t sure it helped him though.

  I like it, he told her one night when she asked. He was lying down and she was curled up beside him. It does help. Everything you have been doing helps.

  But I don’t just want to help. I want to make you well again, she told him. Are you getting better?

  He breathed softly on her hands. No.

  Ellie bit her lip. What can I do? How can I heal you?

  He sent her a wave of comfort. Some things can’t be healed. Some battles can’t be won.

  But Ellie refused to accept that. This one can, Spirit! It can. I’m not going to give up. I’m going to make you better.

  He simply looked at her, his dark eyes wise.

  Ellie refused to be put off. Even though she could feel the weariness inside him, she could tell that he was happy in his life. She knew he liked being with her in the stable or walking down the lane. And he was content when he was out in the field, nuzzling the other horses, enjoying their company, or standing watching the little filly who was still just called “the foal.”

  With her thoughts so full of Spirit, Ellie was able to almost forget about Joe going to Canada. But the three weeks passed, his exams came and went, and suddenly, almost before she knew it, it was the night before he was due to leave. Hardly able to believe it, Ellie went into his room. His suitcase was packed, his electric guitar was in its case and he was just putting the last few things into a rucksack. He smiled at her and she sat down on his bed. His room looked strange—his desk was clear and on his bookcase there were patches in the dust where there had been photos, books, and CDs.

  “You’re really going,” she said.

  He nodded. “I am. Just think—tomorrow I’ll be in Canada.”

  Ellie saw the conflict in his eyes. She knew he hated leaving her, but she could sense the excitement in him too. She felt torn between feeling happy for him and yet not wanting him to go. “You’d better email lots.”

  “Just try and stop me.” Joe fastened up the top of his rucksack and then looked at her. “I’ll miss you.”

  She didn’t know how she would manage without him, but she let the better part of herself triumph and with a tremendous effort forced a smile, making herself be strong for him. “I’ll miss you too, but I’ll be OK. You’ll have a brilliant time in Canada and while you’re there you can tell me about everything you’re learning.”

  Their gazes met and for a moment they just looked at each other.

  Joe sighed. “Come on. Come with me while I say goodbye to the horses.”

  They went out on to the quiet dark yard. Joe worked his way around all the stables, saying a goodbye to each horse. He paused at an empty stable in the pony barn. It was cleaned out and bare of rugs, deserted. Ellie saw Joe swallow and knew he was thinking about Merlin. He went to the door and looked inside. Ellie swallowed. She could picture the merry little bay pony, too small to look properly over
the door. He had been the first pony she’d ridden when she had come to High Peak Stables. She went to Joe and put her arm over his shoulder. “He was the best pony,” she said softly.

  Joe glanced at her, his eyes infinitely sad. “He was.”

  “Your dad should never have had him put to sleep.”

  “No.” Joe shut his eyes. “Ellie, I don’t want to leave you, but I’m glad I’m going. I want to get away from here.”

  Ellie nodded, understanding.

  They stared at the empty stable for a few moments, each deep in their own thoughts, while around them the ponies snorted and pulled at their haynets in the warm summer night.

  Chapter Eight

  JOE LEFT EARLY the next morning. “You have to keep trying with Spirit,” he told Ellie as he hugged her before he left. “There’s going to be something that will work. I know there is and you’ll find it.”

  Ellie hugged him and then waved him off with the others.

  “I can’t believe he’s gone,” she said to Luke.

  Luke shook his head as the car drove away and the grooms walked back to the yard. “He should have told Len he wouldn’t go until the end of the summer. I can’t get over him leaving when—” He broke off. “Well, when there’s so much happening. He shouldn’t have gone.”

  “He wanted to stay.” Ellie struggled to come to Joe’s defense. “He really did. He asked if he could but he wasn’t allowed to.”

  Luke looked at her, his mouth set. “No one could have forced him on that plane if he’d refused.”

  Ellie turned away. Right then, she had enough to think about with Spirit without wasting energy on wishing that Joe was made differently. He’d gone. She had to deal with it.

  “So, what are you going to do about Spirit?” Luke asked, falling into step beside her.

  “Do?” She shrugged. “Nothing. Just keep trying—keep fighting.”

  Luke nodded. For a moment, she thought he was about to say something else, but then he just gave her a smile. “Good luck with it.”

  “Thanks,” Ellie sighed.

  By the following weekend Spirit had completely stopped eating, his ribs were standing out more sharply than ever and he had become very quiet. When Ellie turned him out in the field on Saturday, he didn’t graze with the others but stayed near the gate. Resting a back foot, he half-closed his eyes and lowered his head. Ellie waited, expecting to see the other horses going over to him, but they stayed away.

  “See you later,” she called anxiously to him. He raised his head but couldn’t even summon the energy to whinny.

  He barely moved all day. At suppertime Ellie went to bring him in while Luke caught Gem and Picasso. Len and Stuart were driving down to Cornwall with some of the Armstrongs’ ponies. They were staying overnight there and going in a show the next day.

  Ellie looked at Spirit. Deep inside her she felt a knot of fear but she tried to ignore it. She called his name. His ears flickered but he didn’t open his eyes. She called again. “Spirit!”

  This time he did raise his head. Her heart clenched—his eyes were duller now and she could feel the pain radiating from him.

  “Hey, boy.” She put on his headcollar, her voice falsely cheerful. “Time to go in.”

  Luke had already reached the gate with Gem and Picasso. “Ellie, he’s not looking good,” he said in concern as Ellie walked Spirit over.

  “He’s OK,” Ellie said stubbornly.

  She led Spirit slowly to his stable. He stumbled every few strides. She had put down a fresh bed for him that day and filled a haynet in the hope that he would eat, but he didn’t take even a mouthful. She stroked him. His skin felt tight and she could feel her fingertips tingling with heat as she passed them over his body, feeling his energy adjusting slightly. The lumps on his chest had grown bigger and she’d noticed that he had some sores on his flanks now.

  Ellie left the stable and went to do the feeds with Luke before they shut the barns and the tackroom up. For once, Luke was quiet as they worked. As they finished, he turned to Ellie. “So, have you talked to John about when you should have Spirit put down?”

  Ellie’s heart lurched. John had spoken to her about it and he had said the decision was hers. When she felt it was time she should give him a call. Ellie was determined not to make that call, though. She wouldn’t give up on Spirit. Not ever. She looked away, not answering.

  Luke’s face was serious. “At some point you’ll have to make the decision.”

  “No! He’s going to get better.”

  “Ellie,” Luke said softly. “He’s not going to get better now. You can’t let him suffer any longer. It’s incredible that he’s still here. He hasn’t eaten for days. He’s surviving on will power alone and you have to do what’s best for him.”

  “Killing him is best for him?” A desperate part of her still fought to avoid the truth.

  “Yes.”

  Ellie swung around to march out, not wanting to hear any more, but Luke grabbed her arm, stopping her escape. “I know it hurts. But someone has to tell you—for your sake, for his. Given the state Spirit is in, it is best now to put him to sleep.”

  Ellie wrenched her arm away. “He’s fine!” she spat.

  Luke’s voice raised. “He’s not fine, Ellie! Use your eyes!” He took a breath and lowered his tone. “Please—you know I am no more likely to give up than you are, but there are some things you can’t fight and sometimes giving up is the right thing to do. Put Spirit first. Don’t let him starve to death. Let him die peacefully.”

  “He wants to stay.” Ellie’s voice trembled, tears welling. “He doesn’t want to go.”

  Luke didn’t say anything.

  “He doesn’t, Luke!”

  With a shake of his head, Luke walked away. Ellie ran to Spirit’s stable. He was lying down and he lifted his head to look at her as she opened his door, but Ellie could see the effort he had to make. She walked over and sat down beside him without speaking. Outside the scent of honeysuckle was heavy in the evening air. It seemed so unfair that summer was in full force, flowers blooming and plants growing, while Spirit’s life was ebbing away in front of her eyes.

  Because that was what was happening—Luke was right. She had to be brave and face it. Her shoulders sagged as the fight finally went out of her.

  Sitting down beside him, she stroked his face. She let herself see that there were deep hollows above his eyes now, pain tightening his muzzle and lips. She remembered what Luke had just said: It’s incredible he’s still alive…

  It was incredible. She knew deep down that the only thing keeping him there was his amazing will—the promise he had made to her. I will stay.

  Ellie felt a lump in her throat. She shut her eyes and felt the connection slowly open between them.

  His voice in her head was weary. It hurts. I’m so tired.

  Every bit of Ellie fought against the question she knew she had to ask. Do you want to go?

  She held her breath. There was a moment’s silence and then Spirit spoke. No, I said I will stay.

  Spirit… She swallowed. If she really loved him she would let him go peacefully and before he was in any more pain. She couldn’t ask him to battle on like this. It’s all right. You’ve tried so hard. You don’t have to try any longer. The vet can give you an injection and you’ll go to sleep. It’ll take away the pain. You…you won’t ever wake up but the pain will be gone.

  Her fingers trembled as they played with his mane.

  Death. There was no fear, only acceptance.

  Her heart ached. Yes.

  Neither of them spoke. Ellie put her arms around him, feeling as if she was splintering into millions of pieces that were floating up into the sky. He snorted, sending her waves of comfort despite his own pain and weariness. She started to sob. She didn’t think she could bear it. But she had to. She couldn’t let Spirit keep suffering just so she could keep him with her.

  When? The question filled her brain.

  She looked at the dullness in
Spirit’s eyes and knew deep down it wouldn’t be any easier if she put it off by a week or two, and it would be harder for him. Tomorrow, she thought. I’ll call John tomorrow.

  She saw slight shivers crossing Spirit’s skin despite the warm night. “I’ll bring you a rug,” she murmured.

  She fetched a lightweight fleece rug. She didn’t try to make Spirit get up so she could do it up; she just covered his body with it and then crept under it too, tucking herself between his front and back legs. She put her arm over his back. Spirit breathed slowly and deeply, his muzzle resting on the straw, his eyes half-closed. But Ellie felt too unhappy to sleep and stayed awake as the evening turned from dusk to darkness outside.

  As she sat there, images ran through her mind—the first time she had seen Spirit at the sale, walking him back to the yard with Joe beside her when he had refused to load into the horsebox, the first time she had heard his voice and the first time she had sat on his back and ridden him. She thought about the sound of his joyful whinny in the mornings when he saw her walking to his stable, and the feel of his warm breath on her hair. She remembered how patient he’d been when she was learning to talk with other horses, how he had encouraged her and never blamed her when she got things wrong. And all the time he helped me so much with other stuff too, Ellie realized. If she hadn’t been able to tell him about her parents and how much she missed them, she would have gone mad in her early months at High Peak Stables.

  Looking at him, she felt her heart swell at how incredible he was. After the way he’d been treated by humans, after everything that had happened to him, he should have wanted nothing to do with people. But he hadn’t let the experiences in his past destroy his ability to love and trust her. Now she had to repay that trust by being strong and giving him the one thing she could—freedom from pain. No matter how much it cost her, no matter how much it hurt, in the morning she would call the vet.

 

‹ Prev