by K. M. Peyton
Sarah was a bit of a shock too, although Tessa had been warned.
When she looked in at Buffoon, she said, “What a dog they’ve given you! Poor Tessa! I’m not surprised Gilly and Arthur didn’t want him. What madman thinks this is a racehorse?”
Tessa did not say anything, biting back a rude reply. She saw that Sarah was someone to be careful with. Something in the set of her head, the light in her eye… she was tall and quick and would have been beautiful but for the almost male strength in her face. Imperious. Headmistress material, Tessa thought – the sort she preferred not to come up against. Magistrate’s bench… a shiver ran through Tessa. Everything mattered now, and she must not alienate Sarah, whatever she said about Buffoon. Life was suddenly very challenging.
“He’s a good horse,” she said stubbornly. “I know he is.”
Sarah grinned.
“One thing about racing, it’s full of surprises. Who knows? I won’t argue with you. Time will tell. Talking about surprises, how did you get Jimmy to give you a lesson?”
“I asked him.”
“The British team has asked him, to no avail. What is it about you?”
Tessa had no reply. A surge of gratitude ran through her – almost love – for Jimmy. It shook her. She wasn’t used to these sort of emotions. They confused her utterly. She was only used to hating, resisting.
Sarah said, kindly, “When you go back to school, you can come in the evenings, and weekends, if you like. Wisbey will have Buffoon next week, when he comes back. You can help him in your spare time. He’s a nice lad.”
“Wisbey?”
“He works in a holiday camp in the summer. Comes back in September. Like me. There’s no work here in the summer, then come autumn it’s all go.”
Tessa could not believe it – was it all going to be snatched away from her? Somehow she had convinced herself there would be no school for her, just a tutor for an hour or two whom she could easily ditch with her usual tactics.
Wisbey? She hated Wisbey. Like poison.
“I want to do Buffoon,” she said stubbornly.
Sarah gave her a sharp look. She said, “We can all want.”
So what did she want? Tessa wondered viciously. She had everything, as far as Tessa could see: a good job (the boss), looks (if she took the trouble, which she obviously didn’t), her own life. She lived in her own caravan, which arrived the same day and was parked up by the milking parlour.
Tessa went back and sat in the straw in Buffoon’s stable, watching him doze, his head in the corner. Lucky came up and shoved at her for titbits, and she stroked his soft nose. She knew she was still, basically, unwanted, not necessary, unloved. They were all quite happy to see her depart, would not give her another thought. It was how she had made it.
But Jimmy, who would not teach the British team, had said he would give her half an hour every day. It was something to hold on to. The only thing. While she was still free.
“And you, Buffoon. My beauty! You’ve got to love me best. You’ve got to!”
The tears were welling up again. She was furious with herself. Buffoon lifted his manky tail and blew out a gust of wind.
When she got home that evening Myra was waiting for her, all smiles.
“Guess what, Tessa? That school – Mancroft – they say there’s a place for you. In spite of everything they’ll take you. Isn’t that wonderful? A fresh start; I know you’ll try this time! It’s not far away and you’ll make friends. You’ve got to go and see the headmistress on Wednesday.”
She put her arm round Tessa’s shoulders.
“Maurice will be so pleased.”
The school was on the edge of a large town, flanked by an industrial estate. The headmistress, Mrs Alston, was not unlike Sarah, but older and uglier. She had a rectangular face, a stern jaw, and curly grey hair that looked slightly out of place, too perky for the expression it surrounded. She had the same aura about her of being quite ready to put the frighteners on – cross me at your peril. She had been recently brought in to “turn the school around”. It was a school that parents didn’t want their children to go to.
Myra was obviously frightened to death of her before she started, but Tessa just did her usual thing – stared and said nothing. No one could get to her on this front, she was too experienced. To make it feel better, she thought of Jimmy and his lessons. He had said he would give her half an hour in the evenings, even if she had to go to school. It was all she had to hold on to. Wisbey was arriving two days before term started. Tessa wasn’t even listening as Myra bumbled on.
Until she was aware, at last, of a silence.
“So, Tessa, how do you feel about coming here?”
Tessa just stared.
Mrs Alston stared back.
“Say something, Tessa. Don’t be so rude!” Myra wailed.
Tessa shrugged.
Mrs Alston’s eyes narrowed.
Tessa knew then that Mrs Alston saw her as a challenge. Mrs Alston’s mind worked the same way as Tessa’s. Tessa felt a little nip of interest. She would enjoy working out her next expulsion. A quick one. But not to overstep the mark, not to become a “young offender”. Tricky. A challenge.
Tessa could not help smiling.
Mrs Alston smiled too.
“Good. We’ll see you on Wednesday then. Thank you, Mrs Morrison-Pleydell.”
“Is that all?” Myra was flummoxed.
“I’ve seen all I need.” Her voice was grim.
A secretary showed them out and all the way back in the car Myra berated Tessa for her lack of co-operation, her manners, her attitude.
“It’ll get you nowhere in this life, Tessa! I can’t make you out. I don’t understand you! There’s a fresh start waiting there, and you won’t even listen. You’ll end up in one of those young offender places or whatever they’re called, and then you’ll be sorry! Locked in.”
“I want to stay as I am.”
“Well, there’s a law about getting educated. I can’t change the law, can I? There’s some things in this life you’ve just got to do.”
Yes, thought Tessa, look after Buffoon. Her chin went out. Myra, recognizing the expression, sighed heavily.
Tessa went back to Sparrows Wyck for her lesson.
“They’re taking you on, are they?” Jimmy asked.
“I won’t be there for long,” Tessa said. “I want to be here.”
Jimmy took a drag on his spindly cigarette and said, “Be careful, Tessa.”
“I’ve never wanted anything before.” Why did she say this to Jimmy, she wondered, even as she said it? These were things one didn’t say. But Jimmy only smiled.
He said, “The horse might not stay for long.”
“He will if he’s good.”
“If he’s good, yes.” Another puff, another smile. “Tell you what, I reckon you could ride him out in the morning. You’re good enough. Gilly says he’s quiet as a lamb.”
Tessa felt as if her heart were swelling inside her so that she would burst. This was the first time ever that she was getting her heart’s desire. It knocked her speechless. She was afraid she was going to burst into tears, and jumped up and ran away.
Jimmy finished his cigarette thoughtfully, and shook his head.
It wasn’t anything anyone was going to remember, save Tessa.
The first ride went out at eight, and the second one at half-past ten. Tessa was there at six, grooming Buffoon. She had to get a stool from the tack-room to do him properly, for she was small and slight for her twelve years. When he was shining clean, she picked out his hooves and oiled them, and combed out his mane and tail so that every strand was separate. His winter coat was coming through in a slightly darker shade, although he was still the washy chestnut that most horsey people disliked. But – “They come good all shapes, colours and sizes, if you’re lucky,” Ji
mmy said.
Tessa could feel her insides skipping with excitement. She had never experienced such a wonderful feeling. Yet nobody in the yard thought anything of it, only that it could be useful if Tessa was good enough to ride out – save them some work.
Sarah, Gilly and Arthur rode the three best horses, Gossamer, White Smoke and the one they all called God Almighty. His real name was Gaelic and unpronounceable, but sounded roughly like God Almighty, so God Almighty he was. He was nothing to look at, a gaunt, large-framed bay with piggy eyes, but he stayed for ever and was a good jumper, and had won several races on small tracks. Gossamer, another bay, was young and beautiful and promising, bought out of flat-racing, and White Smoke was, in spite of his name, a rather plain dark grey with a pleasant nature but not a great deal of talent. Sarah rode God Almighty, Gilly rode Gossamer and Arthur rode White Smoke. Jimmy came out and legged Tessa up on to Buffoon and adjusted the stirrups for her. The others rode racing style, short, but Jimmy gave her midway length.
Did he guess how she felt? He looked at her, and she, so high, had to look down to see his smile of encouragement. She was trembling like a leaf.
“You’re fine,” he said. “Nothing to worry about. Enjoy it.”
He slapped Buffoon’s rump. Buffoon stretched out his neck and yawned. The lurcher Walter followed Jimmy as he took Lucky out into the paddock, and the small string moved out of the yard the back way, on to the track across the downs. Tessa had walked it so often that she knew every dip and rise, every clump of knapweed or flash of yellow vetch, yet now she saw it as if her eyes had been shut all her life, shining and sparkling with early morning dew, framed by the long red ears ahead of her. Buffoon walked slowly but his stride was so long that he had no trouble keeping up with the others. Gilly, alongside on Gossamer, grinned and said, “One thing, he’s a good walker.”
Tessa could not stop her smiles breaking out. Gilly noticed, and laughed.
“You’re a nut, Tessa,” she said.
And Tessa smiled back. Gilly nearly fell off her horse.
It was only a walking and trotting morning, no cantering, so Peter hadn’t bothered to come out with them. When work started on the gallops, he would drive out in his battered old Land Rover to watch and assess progress. The gallops lay on the side of the valley opposite Goldlands, and were used by Raleigh’s horses at times, although he had smarter ones above his own yard over the ridge of the hill. Now, as they rode down the slope towards the ford across the river, Tessa saw a string of horses on the far hillside coming towards them. Cruising along in front was Raleigh’s Discovery.
“Old smarty pants,” Gilly said disparagingly.
Sarah said, “I’d give my right arm to have a horse that would make him sit up and take notice. He’s so flaming patronizing. And that smarmy little creep of an assistant he’s taken on –”
“Hush, that’s Tessa’s stepbrother,” Gilly said, and laughed.
Tessa felt her cheeks burning.
“I hate him,” she said.
But even the thought of Greevy could not douse her happiness. The feel of Buffoon beneath her, like a great tank, brought back all her baby memories of Shiner and being tossed up on to yearlings’ backs by the laughing Declan – she felt she was back in touch again, with Buffoon come to her by a special design of the Almighty. The long red neck in front of her, topped by its moth-eaten mane, nodded lazily towards the ford where a heron stood watching. Unafraid until the last minute, it rose up suddenly on its great spread of wings, trailing its legs through the reeds. Gossamer and White Smoke, who would both shy violently at a plastic bag, passed without a tremor, only pausing to paw in the water as usual. Sarah and Gilly legged them on, not wanting to get soaked. Buffoon followed unconcerned, and Tessa had a sudden vision of him as a foal at Shiner’s side trailing along the Atlantic beach amongst the seaweed and the old plastic rubbish, then darting forward to gallop over the small dying waves on the golden sand as once Shiner had done, even without sight. What had Shiner made of the ocean, unseeing? Tessa remembered how she had wondered about it, even then.
The horses started a long trot up the track out of the valley. Tessa found Buffoon’s stride longer than any of Jimmy’s horses, and bumped several times, trying to get the rhythm. Buffoon dropped back because Tessa was not able to collect him and press him on, and his natural laziness took over. The others waited for her at the top, grinning at her red face, full of concentration.
“You’ve got to be really strong to collect him,” Gilly said sympathetically. “He just falls apart left to himself.”
“At least he doesn’t mind being at the back, that’s something,” Sarah said. Apparently if God Almighty was at the back, he let out a series of bucks to show his displeasure. “As long as he minds when he’s racing… that’s when it matters.”
But Buffoon was so laid back, why should he exert himself to win a race? The thought went idly through Tessa’s head, and caused a spasm of fear. Oh God, she was pinning her whole future on something so fragile it was scarcely there! It didn’t bear thinking about. Her future at Mancroft loomed, real and dreadful, as good as death. Tears welled up in Tessa’s eyes, but as she was still at the back, nobody saw.
As they came out on to the wide track along the top of the down they passed the Raleigh string collecting to start work on the gallops. Raleigh was out of the car, giving orders, Greevy at his side. They looked up and Raleigh called out “Good morning” to Sarah.
Tessa hoped Greevy wouldn’t recognize her, but she could see that he did by the way his mouth fell open. She straightened up in the saddle, looking ahead, and they went on past the string. There were about twenty horses, all gleaming expensive beasts, the best in the country. The riders were the usual motley lot of both sexes. One pimply boy, farthest from Raleigh, called out to Tessa, “Got ’im from the circus, did you?” and there was a gust of laughter. Gilly half pulled up to wait for Tessa, sympathetic. But Tessa’s eyes were stony again, still sparkling with tears.
Gilly didn’t say anything.
It was the beginning of September and the air was crisp and dry, the sky pale, a skylark or two soaring. The distances were hazy, violet, half rubbed out in the autumn warmth which was bringing out a rime of sweat on the horses’ necks. Tessa sniffed it in, the smell of the day with all its cartwheeling emotions – she found it hard to come to terms with… half dread, half ecstasy. But Buffoon… he was everything. Was she mad?
After a long trot along the ridge and round the end of the valley they came down slowly along the side of the river through the cow pasture, cooling the horses off in the shade of the willows. Buffoon snatched at the leaves, stopped to rub a fly off his leg, lagged behind. Tessa rode him dreamily, the dread banished, joy triumphant.
“How did you go?” Jimmy asked her.
“It was wonderful. Perfect.”
Sarah said, “She did well.”
“Praise indeed!” Jimmy murmured. “Perhaps you should have your lessons on Buffoon.”
But Peter forbade it. “The owner’s paying us to train a racehorse, not run a riding-school.”
“It’s harder to ride a lazy horse than a hot one.”
“Wisbey will take over on Monday. It’s no good giving her ideas.”
Tessa glowered. She hated Wisbey. Monday was the day she started school.
As she walked home in the evening her mind was churning. The glory of riding Buffoon was overlaid by the dreadful, imminent future. Her mother was all smiles since the school place had been confirmed.
“A fresh start! You must make the most of it, Tessa. I’m sure it will be all right this time. You’ll make nice friends at school, and then you’ve got the stable for your hobby to play around in, in your spare time! Everything will go well, I’m sure.”
Tessa was equally sure it would not. Her hobby! She could make no rejoinder that was civil. As she scowled across the supper tabl
e Greevy grinned and said, “What on earth was that nag you were riding this morning? It’s never going to see a racecourse, surely?”
Tessa could not bear it. Hating herself, she got up and ran out of the room. Flinging herself down on her bed she vowed she hated them all: her mother, Greevy, his father, Wisbey, Peter, Sarah… not Jimmy. Only Jimmy escaped.
“I will – I will –” she wailed into the muffling pillow, kicking the wall so hard that the smart wallpaper was left with black marks.
Will what? (Become happy and lovely watching Buffoon win the Grand National, no less…) She was on a hiding to nothing. Despair engulfed her. Her wracking sobs echoed round the characterless bedroom as the autumn light faded outside, but the house was so big nobody was going to hear her. Nobody cared anyway. Tessa howled.
They hated Tessa at school. The teachers handled her like a red-hot brick, knowing her reputation, not wanting a confrontation. Mostly this meant avoiding her, ignoring her – trying to sum her up.
She gave them little to go on. She would not speak to anybody. Her work was purposefully dreadful, if performed at all. The teachers let it go, making no remarks. They were nervous of her tight, scowling face with its piercing grey-green eyes which stared insolently. They could not work her out.
Tessa knew the usefulness of silence. You gave yourself away if you spoke. Her fellow pupils were wary of her at first, but after a few days the bolder ones attempted contact. Some attempted friendship, the stronger ones a challenge. Tessa did not want friendship but she relished a challenge. She recognized bullies when she met them, and looked for one. It did not take long.
There was a girl called Jackie, very large and strong, with an aggressive personality. She had a gaggle of hangers-on and they preyed on smaller timid girls, and made their lives a misery. Tessa suspected they extorted money. Jackie had a father who met her occasionally from school, and was the prototype – large, strong and bossy, the sort who would abuse teachers if they reprimanded his daughter. In her various schools Tesssa had met all these sorts before and knew the way they operated. To gain her own liberation she would have to take someone down with her, and it might as well be someone who deserved it, in her opinion. She chose Jackie.