Storm Horse

by Nick Garlick

  “Come along,” Uncle Andries continued quietly. “Let’s get him home and see to those wounds.”

  The three of them set off. When they reached the front of the hotel, they saw Mr. Mesman and his sons standing outside. The brothers were still carrying their slingshots.

  Uncle Andries stopped. “Please wait a moment, Flip,” he said.

  He strode up to the boys and in one swift, fluid movement snatched the slingshots from their fingers. Then he ripped them to pieces with his bare hands. The veins on his neck stood out and his face went red with the effort, but when he was finished, there was nothing left but scraps of wood and strips of shredded rubber. He flung the fragments on the ground and stared the hotel owner straight in the eye.

  “You can add the cost of those to the bill too!” he said, before following Flip and Storm back to the farm in silence.

  Flip returned to the village later that afternoon, after he’d cleaned Storm’s wounds and put him inside the barn, with Leila in the next stall for company. He was looking for his mom’s letter. But though he walked up and down the street several times and even got down on his hands and knees to crawl under the hotel terrace, he didn’t find a sign of it anywhere.

  The one last thing connecting him to his mother and his old life in Amsterdam had vanished.

  Completely.

  THE DAY AFTER Storm’s rampage, Uncle Andries put on his suit, Aunt Elly put on her best overcoat, and the two of them walked into the village. They didn’t say where they were going when they left, and they didn’t say where they’d been when they returned. But they both looked sad and disappointed. The following day, the two of them got dressed up again and left the farm right after breakfast.

  “They’re going to the mainland,” Mr. Bouten explained when Flip asked what was happening.

  “Why?”

  “They’ve got an appointment with the bank. They’re going to see if they can borrow enough money to pay back Mesman.” The old man shook his head. “But they won’t be able to.”

  “Why not?”

  “Farms like your uncle’s are too expensive nowadays. Just getting to and from the island on the ferry’s an expense the mainland farms don’t have. I don’t think there’s a bank in the country would want to invest in this place. They’d all be worried they wouldn’t earn their money back.”

  “But there has to be something someone can do,” Flip said. “This farm can’t go just because of Storm. That’s not fair!”

  “No,” Mr. Bouten said, “it’s not. But that Mesman’s a clever one. He saw what Storm did and he knew right then and there how to use it to get what he always wanted. He knew your uncle couldn’t pay for the damages, so he jumped in quick and paid them all.”

  “But why won’t the shopkeepers let Uncle Andries pay them back?”

  “They would,” Mr. Bouten said. “The people who own the shops and the café would be happy to. That’s what they said yesterday, when your aunt and uncle went into the village. They were happy to change their minds. It was that Mesman what wouldn’t. Now he’s got a chance to get his hands on this farm, he’s not going to throw it away.”

  “But where are we going to go? What’s going to happen to us?” Flip asked. “And what about Storm?”

  Mr. Bouten shook his head. “I don’t know, Flip. I honestly don’t.”

  Flip left him standing in the yard and walked down to the field. Storm’s wounds were healing fast and the two horses were back outside. As Flip climbed up onto the gate, Storm came trotting over to see if there was anything to eat. But he soon seemed to sense Flip’s sadness and stopped looking. He stood still beside the gate, looking out over it and down the road.

  A little later, Renske came out to join them. She climbed up beside Flip and stroked Storm’s mane. There was no sign of the Ghost Girl. Since Storm’s rampage through the village, she hadn’t been seen at all. Flip wondered if she felt guilty for not backing up his story of what the Mesman Boys had done.

  After a little while, Flip asked Renske if she’d like to ride Storm. She said yes and Storm let her. He walked slowly around the field with the little girl on his back, not at all his usual cheeky self. Then he let Flip ride him and that was how they passed the day, taking turns to walk around the field. Flip even managed a trot. Keeping his balance was hard and he fell off the first few times, but when he did, Storm always waited for him to climb back up and try again. By the end of the afternoon, he was riding around the field as though he’d been doing it all his life. It was so much fun he wished he could do it forever.

  The two children were still outside when Aunt Elly and Uncle Andries trudged up the road toward them, late in the afternoon. They looked more tired and sad than they had the day before. Aunt Elly held out her hand to Renske.

  “Come inside, my dear,” she said. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

  “Just me?” Renske asked. “What about Flip?”

  “Your father’s going to talk to him,” Aunt Elly said. “Now come inside.”

  Renske climbed down off the gate and followed her mother back to the farm. Flip jumped down beside his uncle.

  “Did the bank say no?” he asked. “Mr. Bouten told me where you went.”

  For a moment, Uncle Andries looked puzzled, as though he had no idea what Flip was talking about. Then he shook his head and said, “No. I mean, yes, we went to the bank. And they did say no, which is what we expected. But that’s not what I have to tell you, Flip. After we went to the bank, we went to see the police, to ask if they had any news about your mother. We thought since we were there, we might as well drop in. Save them a telephone call or a letter.”

  He hesitated. And right then and there, Flip knew what he was about to hear.

  “Is she dead?” he asked quietly.

  Uncle Andries looked down at him and nodded. “Yes,” he said. “She is. It happened almost three years ago. In Germany. There was a fire in the hotel where she was working. Nobody knew who she was because she hadn’t told them her real name and everything she had with her was destroyed in the flames. It was only when the police started looking for her after your father died that somebody finally put two and two together and identified her.”

  He paused for a few seconds.

  “I am sorry, Flip,” he said. “I really am very sorry.”

  Flip didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. All this time he’d been waiting for his mom to come and take him away, only to discover that she couldn’t have done so because she wasn’t alive to do it. He’d been dreaming of something that could never, ever have happened. She was gone and he’d never see her again.

  But there was other bad news too, he thought, as he looked up at Uncle Andries. Where would he and Aunt Elly and Renske live if they had to leave the farm? What would happen to them? What would happen to him?

  And what would happen to Storm?

  THE FARM WAS a quiet place in the days that followed. Uncle Andries milked the cows each morning and went out to work in the fields, but with every step he took he looked like a man carrying an enormous weight on his back. Aunt Elly cooked and cleaned and took the two children out into the vegetable garden to look after the plants. But after a few minutes she would usually slip away and Flip would find her sitting on an upturned wooden crate by the back door, gazing into space.

  Neither of them minded at all when he asked if he could stay with Storm in the afternoons.

  He no longer walked him, though. He fitted a halter to him in the field, led him down to the beach, climbed up onto his back, and trotted away along the sand.

  Out under the early autumn sky, Flip felt all his worries fade away. As he splashed through the surf and then wound his way up through the dunes to the lighthouse, he forgot about everything and just let himself be carried away on a feeling of freedom he’d never known before in his life. It didn’t last long, but while it did, he couldn’t imagine a better place to be, or anything better to do.

  Sometimes, Renske came with hi
m. She liked being out with Storm too. But still there was no sign of the Ghost Girl. She’d become even more of a ghost. Aunt Elly said she’d heard in the village that Mrs. Elberg was planning to leave the island soon and go home. Flip rode past the cottage a few times but never saw either of them. He wondered if they’d leave without saying good-bye. It made him sad to think that one of the few friends he’d made on Mossum might leave without coming to see him at least one last time.

  Then it was back to the farm, to the sad, silent kitchen and his sad and silent aunt and uncle, to wait to see what would happen next. To wait for Mr. Mesman to come and ask for his money. To wait for the farm to be sold.

  The hotel owner appeared one week later. Flip was putting Storm back into the field and rubbing him down with an old towel. Uncle Andries was leaning on the gate. The two of them turned as Mr. Mesman strolled up the road, cigar in his mouth and hands in his pockets.

  “Good afternoon,” Uncle Andries said.

  Mr. Mesman didn’t take the cigar out of his mouth or his hands out of his pockets. “I thought you should know,” he said, “that I’ve got some investors coming to the island. They’ll be going over my plans for the new hotel and looking at the property, so if you see a group of strangers walking about, that’ll be them. They’ve said if they’re happy with things, I can expect a deal within the week.”

  “I see,” Uncle Andries said.

  “If we do agree to a deal,” Mr. Mesman continued, “that’s when I’ll expect you to sign over the farm to me. I want to be clear. I wouldn’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us.”

  This time, Uncle Andries didn’t say anything. He just nodded.

  “Excellent!” said Mr. Mesman, and strolled off back to his hotel. His cigar was still in his mouth and his hands were still in his pockets.

  Uncle Andries walked back to the farm with Flip. “That’s interesting,” he said.

  “What is?” Flip asked.

  “He said he’ll expect me to sell if the investors agree to a deal. It’s as if he’s waiting for them to give him some money. As if he needs them to pay him before he can pay me.”

  Flip felt a sudden wave of excitement race through him. “You mean if they don’t agree, then Mesman won’t have any money and we won’t have to leave?”

  “Possibly, Flip. Possibly. And it’s Mr. Mesman. No need to be forgetting our manners.”

  Then Uncle Andries fell silent, lost in his own private thoughts.

  The investors arrived the day after, on the midday ferry. There were four of them. They were all big round men wearing suits and ties and polished shoes, and they all smoked even bigger cigars than Mr. Mesman. At teatime, they gathered at the edge of Uncle Andries’s farm. Mr. Mesman pulled maps and sketches of his proposed hotel from a big leather briefcase. Flip saw two of the visitors nodding their heads. The other two didn’t look quite so convinced.

  Great, Flip thought. If two of them don’t like it, there may not be any money. The sale might not go through!

  The five men set off toward the beach. When they returned, Flip was still out in the field. This time, all four visitors were nodding their heads vigorously, looking pleased. And Flip heard what Mr. Mesman said as he led them back down the road.

  “Just wait until tomorrow,” he said, beaming. “Wait until you’ve been out on the boat and seen the whole island. Then I think you’ll see you’ve made the right decision.”

  Flip’s heart sank. The right decision sounded as though the visitors had decided to invest in the new hotel. And if they’d done that, then there was no hope at all.

  The farm really would be sold.

  THE NEXT MORNING, when Mr. Bouten arrived at the farm, he brought more news about Mr. Mesman’s boat trip around the island. It would start at midday and there would be a picnic lunch on board. The hotel owner had had the best food and drink brought in especially from the mainland. He was going to steer the boat himself.

  “Won’t do him any good, though,” said Mr. Bouten. “Storm coming.”

  Flip looked out of the window. The sun was shining. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, or a trace of a breeze.

  Mr. Bouten saw him looking. “Oh, it’s coming,” he said. “Be here midday. Or thereabouts.”

  “That’s when you say the boat’s going out,” Aunt Elly said.

  Mr. Bouten nodded.

  Uncle Andries pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. “Then we have to warn them,” he said.

  “Didn’t think you’d be worried about what happened to him,” Mr. Bouten said. “Solve all your problems, that would. A nice rough sea for his visitors wouldn’t make them so keen to invest.”

  “It probably wouldn’t,” Uncle Andries said. “But I can’t let him go out in a storm. Whatever I think of him.”

  “Well, he won’t listen,” Mr. Bouten said. “Certainly not to you.”

  “We still have to warn him,” Uncle Andries insisted. “We’re lifeboat men. It’s our duty.”

  Mr. Bouten looked up at him for a second. “You’re right,” he said. “We are. And I’ll come with you to do it.” But as he stood he added, “He won’t listen, though. I guarantee you that.”

  And he was right. Mr. Mesman didn’t.

  Flip went with them to the hotel. When they stepped inside, he saw the four visitors in the lounge, laughing and smiling over cups of coffee. Mr. Mesman spotted Uncle Andries and hurried across to him.

  “Well, well,” he said with a smile. “Have you come to sign? Bit early for—”

  “I’ve come to warn you,” Uncle Andries said.

  Mr. Mesman’s smile vanished. “Warn me? About what?”

  “About the storm coming.”

  Mr. Mesman frowned, then went to the front door and stepped out into the street. He looked up at the sky in all directions. The sun shone down. There was still no wind.

  “A storm?” he said, looking as though it were the silliest thing he’d ever heard in his life. “Who told you that?”

  “Me,” said Mr. Bouten.

  “Really?” Mr. Mesman’s mocking look had only increased.

  “He used to be a fisherman,” Uncle Andries said. Flip could hear the barely contained anger in his voice. “He’s forgotten more about bad weather than you could learn in a dozen lifetimes. If he says a storm’s coming, it is.”

  “You know what I think,” Mr. Mesman said, putting his hands in his pockets and smiling a smile that was anything but friendly. “I think you’re just trying to put a stop to my little trip. I think you’re trying to make me look bad in front of the investors.”

  “For heaven’s sake!” Uncle Andries shouted. “I’m trying to warn you!”

  “And I don’t believe you,” Mr. Mesman replied. He turned around and went in to join the investors.

  Mr. Bouten turned to Uncle Andries. “Well,” he said, “he didn’t listen. What do you want to do now?”

  “There’s only one thing we can do,” Uncle Andries said. “Get the lifeboat ready. Then we can rescue the idiot the moment he gets into trouble.”

  The three of them set off for the farm. They’d just reached the entrance when they were stopped by Mrs. Elberg. Her shoes were muddy and her hair was in disarray. Her eyes were red with fatigue.

  “Have you seen Sophie?” she asked. “We’re supposed to be leaving this afternoon but she got terribly upset when I started packing, and ran off. And now I can’t find her anywhere. I’ve been all the way down to The Yellow and back and nothing. Not a trace.”

  The two men shook their heads. Mrs. Elberg turned hopefully to Flip, but he had to say he hadn’t seen her either.

  “She doesn’t want to be out in what’s coming,” Mr. Bouten said. He told her about the approaching storm.

  “Can you help me find her?” Mrs. Elberg sounded almost desperate now.

  Looking uncomfortable, Uncle Andries shook his head and explained about Mr. Mesman’s boat trip. “We have to get to the lifeboat. There’ll be five lives at risk. We ca
n’t ignore them.”

  “No, of course not,” Mrs. Elberg said. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “I’ll look for her,” Flip said.

  Uncle Andries shook his head. “I want you safe at home.”

  “Mr. Bouten just said she shouldn’t be outside in what’s coming!” Flip protested.

  “She shouldn’t. And neither should you.”

  But Flip wouldn’t budge. “You’re going to go out in the lifeboat,” he said. “To rescue someone. Let me do the same. Let me rescue Sophie.”

  “You don’t even know where to look.”

  Flip pointed to the east. “You haven’t been that way, have you?” he asked Mrs. Elberg.

  “No,” she said. “Not yet.”

  “Then that’s where I’ll go. If I take Storm, I can go even faster. And Mr. Bouten said the storm won’t be here till midday. That gives me a couple of hours.”

  “No!” Uncle Andries said.

  “Why?” Flip demanded.

  “Because you’re only twelve!”

  Mr. Bouten interrupted. “Andries, there were grown men up on that hotel terrace the day Storm ran off. I didn’t see a single one of them who got him under control. But Flip here did. He was the only one brave enough to pull it off. And he didn’t hesitate for a second to do it.”

  Uncle Andries stood still, lost in thought. After a while he looked down at Flip as though he’d never looked at him properly before.

  “Can you really get her back on your own? And I do mean on your own. I don’t want Renske going with you, no matter what she says. She’s too little.”

  “Yes,” Flip said, staring straight back at his uncle. “If she’s out there, I can find her. And I can bring her back safely.”

  “Oh, Flip, if you could,” Mrs. Elberg said. “She might listen to you! You might be the only person she would listen to.”

  “Right, then,” Uncle Andries said to his nephew. “Fetch what you need.”

  Flip ran to the barn, grabbed a halter and a rope, and ran back. Uncle Andries was still waiting for him. The farmer hesitated, then reached out and patted his nephew’s shoulder.