Gifthorse: The next instalment of the riveting Marnie Walker series

by Leo McNeir

  “I know, but we’ve got big expenses coming up in the farmhouse. There’s the underfloor heating in the conservatory and the kitchen-breakfast room, all the kitchen units to be built in, not to mention the Aga. They don’t come cheap.”

  “We’re on target to get everything finished some time this year,” Anne said. She glanced towards the window. “More or less.”

  Another sigh from Marnie. “Last night when Ralph and I were in bed,” she began.

  Anne grinned. “Should I listen to this part with my fingers in my ears?”

  “Probably. Anyway, Ralph said there was one obvious way of resolving any difficulties with the cost of the renovation.”

  Anne shook her head. “Not for you, there isn’t.”

  Marnie looked surprised. “You don’t think so?”

  “No. Of course you’ve got the money from Simon’s inheritance, but you don’t want to use that.”

  “Ralph said the money was there, so why not use it? He thought I could look on it as a kind of gift from Simon.”

  “I can see that, but you don’t want to be like the heroine in a Victorian novel where everything comes right in the end because you inherit a lot of money and it solves all your problems. You want to stand on your own two feet and make a success of Glebe Farm by your own efforts.”

  “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

  “There you are, then. You just have to be patient for a little longer.”

  “Thanks, Anne.” Marnie smiled and headed for the door.

  Anne watched Marnie pass the window. Lifting the handset, she hesitated for several seconds before pressing the buttons for Donovan’s mobile.

  You have reached the voicemail of …

  She disconnected immediately and dialled Donovan’s home number. In her mind she could see the neat Edwardian villa tucked away at the end of a cul-de-sac in West London, with its cobbled yard and double garage that used to be a stable block. To her surprise the phone was picked up after the first ring.

  “Hallo?”

  “Donovan?”

  “Anne, hi.”

  “How are you?”

  A pause. “Better.”

  “Oh, you’ve been unwell?”

  “Flu.”

  “When was that?”

  “I went to Germany to see my family for a few days before Christmas and caught it there.” He stifled a cough.

  “So you’ve been in Germany all that time?”

  “Got back last night.”

  “I was beginning to think it was something I said.” Anne’s tone had lightened.

  “I only went over to deliver some presents.”

  “I was surprised when I didn’t hear from you.”

  “Now you know why.”

  “So what are your plans?”

  “I’ve got a load of reading to get through for my course.”

  “Good.”

  “And I’ve, er …” He made a sound that Anne thought could have been a laugh or a cough. “I’ve got a load of Christmas stuff from Germany that I bought when I was in Wiesbaden.”

  “Christmas stuff? Like what?”

  “All sorts. Stollen, biscuits, tree and window decorations, lights, candles, you know.”

  “Oh well, at least you’re in good time for this year.”

  “That’s not how I see it. It’s a waste not to use everything.”

  “When can you use it, if not at Christmas?”

  “Why not now?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Do I sound like I’m kidding?”

  *

  Margaret Giles read through Ben’s exercise books while Mr Meadows looked on. Ben sat quietly beside him. The head made a new discovery: Ben could draw well, illustrating his history project with a picture of the Tower of London. It included clouds in the sky and birds flying by like small flattened V symbols. Somehow they made the scene come to life.

  “Do you find the Normans interesting, Ben?” she asked.

  He considered the question. “Sort of.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “They built lots of castles and killed lots of people.”

  Margaret frowned. “Do you not think they were well organised? Have you heard of Domesday Book?”

  “Yes.”

  “Doesn’t that show how methodical they were?”

  “They only wrote it because William wanted to divide up the land and give it to his knights. They weren’t organised enough to know what they had. They took all the information from the Anglo-Saxons and their land.”

  “But they brought law and order to the country, didn’t they?”

  Ben’s turn to frown. “By killing everyone who stood up to them. They killed a third of the people in Yorkshire when they revolted.”

  “That’s not in your history book, Ben,” said Mr Meadows. “Did you make that up?”

  “It’s in my encyclopaedia at home.”

  “You don’t seem to have a high opinion of the Normans,” said Margaret.

  Ben shrugged. “They invaded England, took all the property and made the ordinary people slaves.”

  “The correct term is serfs,” Mr Meadows interjected.

  “Same thing. What’s the difference?”

  *

  Marnie closed the door quickly behind her when she returned to the office barn. Even so, Anne felt an icy chill sweep across the room. It was almost time for her to make coffee for the builders and she was not looking forward to facing the elements. Marnie hung up her jacket and sat at her desk.

  “Mission successful?” Anne asked.

  “They’re going to get on with the loft insulation. That’ll take an hour or two. After that, if it isn’t snowing, they’ll spread salt and grit on the field track. What about you? Mission successful?”

  Anne looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

  “I think you know what I mean.”

  Anne grinned. “He’s at home recovering from flu. Just back from Germany.”

  “Mystery solved,” said Marnie. “Will you be seeing him?”

  At that moment Ralph came in. Another icy blast flooded the office, and he banged the door shut, cheeks glowing pink from the cold.

  “Bloody hell!”

  Marnie looked round at him. “Is that a considered judgment?”

  “I don’t want to get involved in a discussion of the origins of the phrase about brass monkeys,” Ralph said as he hung up his jacket, “but it would be appropriate.”

  Anne was already on her way to the kitchen area. While the kettle boiled Anne assembled mugs while Marnie told Ralph about the phone call with Donovan.

  “When will you be seeing him again?” Ralph called across the room.

  “He wants us to share Christmas,” Anne replied over her shoulder, tinkling a spoon in a mug.

  Ralph chuckled. “No one could accuse Donovan of not planning ahead.”

  Anne walked over carrying a tray and set it down on her desk. Ralph took mugs for Marnie and himself.

  “I think he’s planning to come tomorrow afternoon,” Anne explained. “On the other hand, with Donovan you never know when he might turn up. He’s invited us to have Christmas with him up here later on.”

  “You mean tomorrow evening?” Marnie said. “Christmas? In mid-January?”

  “That’s the idea. It’s all right, isn’t it? I didn’t think we had other plans.”

  “Certainly none for Christmas,” Ralph agreed, “in January.”

  *

  Margaret Giles picked up the next exercise book. It was yellow and had the word MATHS printed in bold felt tip on the cover. She turned to the most recently used page and examined the calculations. As on all the other pages there were no mistakes. Each sum was ticked in red ballpoint and the mark ten-out-of-ten was circled at the end. The head noticed there was no comment beside the mark, where she would have expected VG or some similar encouragement. She glanced briefly at Mr Meadows who was avoiding eye contact.

  “You seem to have
no difficulties with maths, Ben,” she said softly.

  Ben returned her gaze without speaking.

  “How far have you come in maths?” As soon as she asked the question Margaret realised it was foolish. He had had no experience of school and therefore could not know what was expected of him. “You can obviously handle addition and subtraction. How do you find multiplication and division?”

  “All right.”

  “What do you like best?”

  Ben cocked his head on one side and considered the question.

  “Trigonometry, I think.”

  “We don’t do that here, Ben.”

  “Why not?”

  Margaret suppressed a smile. “That comes in secondary education.”

  “Oh.”

  “I don’t suppose you’ll be doing that, Ben,” said Mr Meadows. “Secondary education, I mean.”

  Margaret smiled. “It seems to me he’s doing it already.”

  Mr Meadows flushed.

  “We don’t do geometry or algebra here, do we?” Ben asked.

  Margaret was interested to hear him refer to we, rather than you. Could it be that he was starting to feel settled in the school?

  “Not in a primary school, Ben. Have you studied those subjects?”

  He nodded. “Since last summer. Mum thought we might have a go at them. She bought some geometrical instruments in a jumble sale. They were good as new in a box, never been used. She bought some books, too, and said we might as well have a try.”

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  Ben’s face lit up. “I liked drawing the figures and working out the sums.”

  “And algebra?”

  “That’s all x for this and y for that. It’s fun, like a game once you get used to it.”

  Margaret closed the exercise book and laid it on the desk. She sat back in her chair and looked at Ben with a serious expression.

  “Ben, you are obviously a very bright boy and you seem to enjoy school work, whether you do it here or at home with your mother. Do you ever talk together about what sort of studying you might do in the future?”

  “Not really. We just read books and do the work.”

  “Do you know what a college is?”

  Ben’s expression brightened again. “It’s the sort of place where Anne goes, like a big school for older people.”

  “And a university?”

  “Same sort of thing. Ralph teaches at Oxford University, but he doesn’t go there every day. He’s a professor. He wants Anne to go there one day.”

  “What would you like to do, Ben?”

  There was no hesitation. “I want to be like Anne, want to go to college like her.”

  Margaret smiled. “Anne has set you a very good example. You’d do well to follow her.”

  “Yes.” Ben’s face was one huge smile. “I want to marry her one day.”

  *

  Anne washed the mugs and put them on the draining board. Ralph thanked her for coffee, kissed Marnie and headed back to Thyrsis, shuddering theatrically as he went through the door. Marnie resumed her place and reached for the list of phone calls she had to make. Before dialling the first number she looked across at Anne.

  “D’you think Donovan really means us to have a Christmas when he comes up? Are you sure you got that right?”

  Anne pulled a face. “Germans don’t joke about Christmas, you know. I think they invented it.”

  Shaking her head, Marnie picked up the phone.

  “Actually, Anne, did Donovan say when he’d be arriving?”

  “Not exactly. He might come in through the door at any moment, or just as likely turn up some time tomorrow. Who can tell with Donovan?”

  *

  Margaret Giles thought about Ben and his future for the rest of the morning. If he had been a normal pupil, one who lived in the area and would probably receive all his primary education in the village school, she would have the time to devise a programme to satisfy his needs and develop his talents. This would probably involve organising the whole school curriculum so that all the children benefited from new teaching methods.

  Outside school hours she would find other ways of helping him. There were organisations she could contact, like the National Association for Gifted Children, that supported parents and ran Saturday clubs. And there were bodies like the Potential Trust that organised summer schools where bright children could be stimulated in the company of their peers. She would encourage her staff to join associations that offered guidance in teaching the most able. All her pupils could gain from an inspired approach and new methods.

  But Ben was just passing through. Once the ice melted, Ben would be away, perhaps never to return. What then? Certainly, Willow had done wonderfully well in teaching him so far, but her ability to guide him through the specialised subjects of secondary education was a different matter.

  After agonising all morning, Margaret made a phone call and left a message asking the local authority’s staff inspector for primary education to contact her.

  Shortly after lunch break Valerie Paxton put through a call.

  “It’s Mrs Truscott from the education office.”

  “Good afternoon, Liz. Thanks for phoning back. There’s something on which I’d like to ask your advice, or rather someone.”

  *

  Later that afternoon Marnie came back into the office barn shaking snowflakes from her hair. A new downfall of snow had put paid to any plans the builders might have had to grit the field track. Instead, Marnie came up with a new idea: they would use foam insulation and sheets of hardboard intended for lining the utility room, that had not yet been built, to insulate a section of the farmhouse roof, then repoint the chimney breast in the roof space.

  She flopped onto her chair.

  “Any more of this snow, and Bob will be retraining in building igloos for the New Ice Age.”

  Anne looked thoughtful. “I’ll bring back a woolly mammoth when I go up to the shop. It should keep you and Ralph in sandwich lunches for a while.”

  Marnie looked up at the clock. “God, is it that time already?”

  “Yep. I’ll be off with the post and meet Ben from school.”

  Five minutes later Anne walked round to the stable barn. Turning the corner, she was surprised to find Willow in the stable checking Poppy’s hay and water. It suddenly occurred to her that Ben had never mentioned whether his mother was aware of their custom of taking the horse up to school. Had she given her approval?

  “I was, er, I mean, if it’s all right with you …”

  Willow smiled. “Walking Poppy up to meet Ben from school?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Poppy’s not the only boat creature round here in need of exercise. I need to stretch my legs, too. I’ll walk up with you. I want some things from the shop.”

  “Me too. Did you know that Poppy will stand and wait by the gate without being tied to a post or anything?”

  Willow gave Anne a look that she could not interpret before patting the horse on the rump. Poppy backed out from the bales of hay and turned to follow them, her great hooves leaving deep imprints in the snow. When they reached the field track Poppy walked on ahead.

  “Have you had much to do with horses, Anne? Have you ever ridden?”

  Anne thought for a few moments then laughed.

  “What is it?” Willow asked.

  Still laughing, Anne replied. “I once had a ride when I was about six or seven, on a donkey at the seaside.”

  Willow grinned. “A seasoned horsewoman!”

  “It’s pretty obvious I know nothing about horses, isn’t it?”

  “But you do like them?”

  “I like Poppy. She’s the only horse I’ve ever known. She seems very bright.”

  “You sound surprised, Anne. Did you realise that she’d know what to do if we weren’t here with her?”

  “How d’you mean?”

  “She could go up to meet Ben from school by herself. In fact, if we didn’t come for her,
she’d even know what time to go up without us telling her.”

  Anne looked surprised. “Blimey. I thought horses weren’t supposed to be very intelligent. Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean –”

  “That’s maybe the impression you get if you look at riding school hacks walking along the road. They’re probably just bored stiff. But you watch working horses at a ploughing match or a boat horse at a lock. Then you’ll get a different idea.”

  Approaching the top of the track, Willow laid a hand on Anne’s arm and indicated they should stop. They watched Poppy walk through the gate, check the road and cross over to continue on the other side. The two women followed on the pavement to the school gate where the horse crossed back and stopped. Willow patted the side of her neck as they passed on their way to the shop.

  *

  “There it is again.” Valerie Paxton pointed out of the window. “It shouldn’t be allowed.”

  Margaret Giles was standing in the school office reading through her correspondence and signing the letters that Valerie had typed. She refocused her attention towards the playground.

  “Oh, yes. That’s Poppy.”

  “Shouldn’t be allowed,” Valerie muttered again.

  “I don’t think we have the power to organise the traffic outside school premises, Valerie.”

  “They’ve left it there unattended, just gone off without even tying it up. What if it bolted or something? It could cause a nasty accident, a big brute like that, if it got out of control.”

  “Poppy seems calm enough to me, Valerie. And look, there’s Mrs Haycroft now. I might just pop out for a quick word with her.”

  “And you can tell her to keep that horse away,” Valerie murmured, when the head teacher was out of earshot.

  *

  Several mothers had gathered near the school gate by the time Anne and Willow returned. Some of them gave Poppy a friendly pat and a number of them spoke to her in cheerful greeting. The horse bobbed her head, with clouds of condensation billowing around her nostrils. While groups of mothers chatted amongst themselves, Anne took up position beside Poppy on one side of the gate, while Willow was drawn into conversation with two women on the other side.

  Anne heard one of the women ask Willow how her little boy was settling in to his new school. Across the playground she was just able to make out the faint ringing of the bell that marked the end of the school day. Placing a hand on the gatepost, Anne muttered to Poppy that Ben would soon be coming out.