The Midnight Horse

by Michelle Bates

  “Er, I’m not sure,” she said.

  “What about the salute for the judges at the end?” he asked.

  “Of course,” Kate answered. “It’s just so hard to remember to do it when they’re not actually there.”

  “Well, if you get into the habit now, it’ll be one less thing for you to think about on the day,” Nick said. “And you needn’t look so worried,” he called. “That was good. If we can get your showjumping and cross-country up to that standard, you’ll be fine. I’ll leave you to do a little more work on your walk to canter transitions. I have to hurry back and sign everyone in for the 10 o’clock hack.”

  “Yes, sure Nick. And, thank you.”

  “That’s OK,” said Nick. “You see, I have got a vested interest in that horse you know. If you win at Hawthorn, she’ll be quite a valuable asset. Although of course I’d never sell her,” he added, seeing Kate’s worried face.

  “See you later,” he called.

  “Yes, see you later, Nick.”

  Kate did as Nick suggested and gradually Feather’s movements became more fluid. As she reined back for the last time, she felt pleased. They were really beginning to work well together. And tomorrow she would set her mind to practising their showjumping. Humming contentedly to herself, she made her way into the yard.

  3

  A HASTY DECISION

  Izzy drew her knees up under her chin and hugged them to her chest. What a miserable weekend it was – the first day of the Christmas holidays and the snow was so deep, she couldn’t even ride. Vacantly, she stared out of the bedroom window, watching a robin scratching the ground for food. It seemed as though she’d been there for hours, staring and staring. Midnight would be sold by Friday. There must be a way round it. There must be something she could do to stop him from going to the sale. If only she could find the money to pay the livery fee herself. But how?

  The more Izzy thought about life without Midnight, the more she couldn’t bear it. Christmas had seemed so far off in the warmth of the summer days. She had been sure something would come up to stop him going. But now time had almost run out for them both. She felt the panic rising in her throat. What would she do without him?

  Sliding down from the window seat, Izzy picked up a horsy magazine. She flicked through the pages before throwing it back on the pile it had come from. Maybe she should try talking to her father again one last time.

  He was supposed to be going up to London today. She’d make him some lunch before he went, to try and put him in a good mood. Padding across the carpet, she opened her bedroom door and hurried down the stairs.

  Cheese on toast was easy enough. Tiptoeing around the kitchen so as not to disturb him, she gathered what she needed and put the food under the grill. Then she wandered into the sitting room and picked up the local newspaper from the coffee table.

  Santa’s grotto in the Colcott town hall, Christmas bazaar at the Women’s Institute, St. Olaf’s church jumble sale...there was a lot going on in Colcott at the moment. And then...

  Bleeep...bleeep...bleeep...bleeep...bleeep!

  Izzy’s thoughts were interrupted by a shrill, piercing sound that filled the house. “Oh no-ooo.” Izzy shot into the kitchen. The smoke alarm! Her father would be furious.

  Cringing, she pulled the tray of burnt offerings out of the grill. Izzy’s father hurried from his study, madly waving a hanky around his head as he tried to ward off the clouds of smoke.

  “Izzy, what on earth are you doing?” he bellowed, trying desperately to stop the noise. Izzy held her hands over her ears as she watched him, the high-pitched whistle reverberating around the house.

  And then at last he reached up and yanked the battery out of the alarm.

  “Phew.” Izzy’s father looked angry. “I don’t believe it. I’ve got to leave in five minutes and I smell of burnt toast,” he said, crossly.

  “Sorry Dad. I was only–”

  But it was too late, Mr. Paterson was already halfway up the stairs, taking two at a time.

  Izzy had to talk to him before he left.

  “Look Dad. There’s something I need to say,” she started, as he reappeared at the top of the stairs.

  “Not now, Izzy,” he said, heading down the stairs for the door.

  “But Dad. It’s about Midnight. I’ve got to speak to you before it’s too late.”

  “Too late!” Mr. Paterson turned and looked furiously at her. “We’ve gone over it again and again. The answer’s no. Now I’ve got to go. I’m late as it is,” he said, slamming the door behind him.

  Izzy hung her head balefully as she heard the car start up. Her mother wouldn’t be back for ages either. Ever since she’d started her new job in Colcott she’d hardly been around. It was the third Saturday in a row she’d had to go into the office. Slumping onto the sofa, Izzy put her head in her hands. Slowly, she started leafing through the newspaper in front of her. And then she saw the advert. “Hawthorn Horse Trials, Saturday 11th January. Dressage, cross-country and showjumping,” she read out loud. “New junior event for under 12’s. First prize £100.”

  Izzy wandered off in the direction of the door, clutching the newspaper to her chest. Hawthorn Horse Trials...£100.

  Stumbling over a chair leg, she carried on reading as she walked up the stairs to her bedroom. Not until the door was closed behind her, did she let out a loud sigh. Her heart was thumping and her mind raced. “A whole hundred pounds – that would tide her over, wouldn’t it? Surely that would pay for at least a month’s livery fee. But the 11th of January was three weeks away and Midnight would have been sold by then.

  Thoughtfully, she bit her bottom lip. And then she had an idea. Quick as a flash, she bolted down the stairs and crept into her father’s study. Before she had a chance to change her mind, she sat down at the computer and turned it on. Impatiently, she drummed her fingers on the desk as she waited for it to boot up. And then she started typing.

  Dear Mrs. Charlwood, she typed, carefully. She took a deep breath, before launching in.

  It was very kind of you to offer my daughter, Izzy, your horse, Midnight. She paused for a moment to read what she had written. That sounded good.

  As you know, she simply adores him, so it was very hard for me to say no. Unfortunately, my wife and I have been so busy that we didn’t think we’d have the time to help her look after him. Now, however, I seem to be able to see a light at the end of the tunnel, and I should have my book finished by Christmas. Izzy’s schoolwork seems to have taken a turn for the better and...

  At this point Izzy felt the first twinge of guilt. Well, it was only a small lie – her history marks had gone up a bit. She went on...as Christmas is just around the corner I thought it would be nice if Izzy could have Midnight – if that is still all right with you. She told me that he hasn’t been sold yet, but is due to go to the Ash Hill Sale on Friday. I tried to phone yesterday to talk things through, but couldn’t get hold of you. Izzy was so anxious for it to be sorted out as soon as possible that I said I would write and let her bring the letter to you in person.

  Izzy didn’t stop to read what she had written and continued to type:

  Thank you so much for all the kindness you have shown Izzy over the past year and good luck with the big move.

  Now, how should she end the letter? Seasons Greetings? No, that sounded silly. Best wishes? No, that was too familiar. In the end, she settled simply for Yours sincerely. Quickly she read what she had written. It was perfect. Sneaking a piece of headed paper from her father’s drawer she set the computer to print.

  “Come on,” she muttered, impatiently. With a final roll, the computer had finished its job. Izzy was quick to erase the file and switch off the computer. Snatching the letter, she signed it with a flourish: Maximillian Paterson.

  Izzy looked at her watch. Half past two. The sooner she knew the answer the better. She picked up her jacket from the coat stand. Wrapping a scarf tightly around her neck, she hurried out of the door, grabbed her bike an
d set off.

  Before long, Izzy found herself cycling up the long, tree-lined drive of Harewood Hall. She made her way to the front door and yanked the old bell pull.

  Rubbing a patch on the window with her glove, she peered into the hall. Boxes and packing cases were stacked high. Patiently, she waited as the bell jangled inside. There was no answer. She felt a twinge of relief. Perhaps there wasn’t anyone there after all and she wouldn’t have to go through with it. And then she heard someone inside. Mustering up a cheery smile, she rubbed her hands together as the door opened.

  “Izzy! What a pleasant surprise,” Mrs. Charlwood said. “I didn’t expect to see you today. Come in or you’ll catch your death out there.”

  “Oh Mrs. Charlwood, you’re not going to believe this.” Izzy didn’t stop to draw breath, and her words followed one after the other in rapid flow. “I’ve just had the most fantastic news. It’s all in the letter.”

  “Now, slow down, Izzy.” Mrs. Charlwood looked puzzled. “What letter?”

  “From my father,” Izzy said breathlessly, as she handed it over. “He says I can have Midnight.”

  “Really? But that’s wonderful news. Are you quite sure?” Mrs. Charlwood took the letter eagerly.

  Nervously Izzy shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she watched Mrs. Charlwood read.

  “I wonder what made your father change his mind,” she said, thoughtfully.

  Izzy squirmed uncomfortably.

  “Oh well,” Mrs. Charlwood went on. “Who am I to talk about changing one’s mind,” she smiled. “If he says you can have Midnight, of course you must. I’ll just give your father a ring and confirm things with him.”

  Izzy’s head pounded and she felt the blood rising to her head.

  “Oh, but you can’t Mrs. Charlwood!” The words tumbled out before she had a chance to stop herself.

  Mrs. Charlwood looked surprised. And then Izzy relaxed as she remembered there wasn’t anyone at home.

  “I mean... I mean...when I left, Dad was just on his way up to London for a business meeting.”

  Mrs. Charlwood thought long and hard. “Well, I suppose I can ring him later. You and I can decide where to keep him, can’t we?”

  “Yes, yes.” Izzy smiled and exhaled slowly. For the time being, she’d got away with it, and she’d just have to intercept any phone calls later. Hopefully Mrs. Charlwood might forget to ring, what with the move and everything.

  “Now,” Mrs. Charlwood started. “Where does your father want you to keep him?”

  Izzy hesitated. She hardly dared breathe. “Oh he said I should sort something out with you.”

  “Hmm. Well, let me see. Do you know of anywhere around here?”

  “Well no,” Izzy said, shaking her head.

  “What about that stables you rode at before you met Midnight?”

  “The Elm Park Riding Stables? Well–” Izzy hesitated. It was the last place in the world she wanted to send Midnight. No, that would never do – all those terrible girls interfering in her business. It was best to steer well clear of them.

  “Well, what about Sandy Lane Stables over by Ash Hill? Have you heard of it?” Mrs. Charlwood said.

  “I don’t think so,” said Izzy.

  “It’s got a very good reputation,” said Mrs. Charlwood. “I know Nick Brooks who owns it, although I haven’t seen him for a while. He’s a superb rider...taught my Jane to ride...he used to lodge with us. He was a top steeplechase jockey you know. Jane had lost her nerve after a bad fall and well... Nick managed to restore her confidence in horses – marvellous really. He got married a few years ago and set up Sandy Lane. I don’t know his wife, but I’m sure she must be nice for Nick to have married her,” Mrs. Charlwood rambled on. “So you could think about sending Midnight there.”

  “Well, it sounds brilliant,” Izzy said aloud, silently thinking about the practicalities of it all. The Hawthorn Horse Trials weren’t until the 11th January, so she wouldn’t be able to pay for his livery straight away, if at all. Suddenly the madness of her scheme struck Izzy. What had she been thinking of? She and Midnight worked well together, but there was no guarantee they’d win. But Mrs. Charlwood was going on now about how wonderful Sandy Lane was and how happy Midnight would be there. Midnight! At the sound of his name, Izzy was brought to her senses. She had to think fast.

  “There is just one small problem, Mrs. Charlwood,” Izzy mumbled, shiftily. “Dad did say that he wouldn’t be able to pay for a livery fee until the end of January when he gets paid for his book.”

  “Oh dear,” Mrs. Charlwood looked thoughtful. “Well that might be a bit more of a problem–” she broke off. “Let me see what I can do. I’ll give Nick a ring now and have a word with him.”

  “Thanks,” Izzy said gratefully, blushing furiously.

  “I won’t be a minute,” Mrs. Charlwood said, hurrying off down the hallway. “Why don’t you go and see Midnight? I’ll meet you by his stable.”

  “OK,” Izzy said, and hurriedly she made her way into the stable yard, her feet crunching through the snow. She felt sick at herself. How could she have been so dishonest? And with Mrs. Charlwood of all people. How could she have lied like that? It wasn’t too late to turn back and tell the whole truth.

  As Izzy turned the corner into the yard, she saw Midnight looking out over his box. He whinnied loudly at her approach. No, it was too late. She simply couldn’t turn back – not now. She couldn’t give him up. Fishing around in her pocket, she pulled out a stray sugar lump and offered it to the black horse.

  “Here you are Midnight,” she crooned as he nuzzled into her hand.

  “That’s all settled,” a voice called from behind her. Izzy turned round quickly. It was Mrs. Charlwood.

  “Nick says you can pay at the end of the month – as long as you don’t forget or anything,” she joked easily.

  Izzy blushed furiously.

  “Not that that’s going to happen of course,” Mrs. Charlwood laughed. “Anyway, Nick’s delighted to be getting you both. So I’ll arrange for Midnight to be boxed and sent over as soon as possible. No, don’t worry about the cost.” She held up her hand as Izzy opened her mouth to speak. “It’s really the least I can do,” she said. “I never felt happy about leaving him to go to the sale without me, so you could say you’re sort of doing me a favour too. Anyway, enough of all that. I’ve got to get back to my packing and I expect you’ll want to share your news with the old boy anyway,” she said, a twinkle in her eye.

  “I’m going to miss you, Midnight.” Mrs. Charlwood reached up to pat the black horse’s neck, tenderly pulling the scraggy hair between his ears. “But Izzy’s going to be looking after you from now on, and you couldn’t ask for a better owner, could you?” Mrs. Charlwood turned and smiled at Izzy, not seeming to notice her red face.

  “One more thing,” she called, looking back. “I just want to let you know how pleased I am. In fact,” she paused, “you’ve made my day. I’d rather he went to you than anyone else.”

  Izzy stood outside Midnight’s stable, silently watching Mrs. Charlwood hurrying off. She felt awful. Midnight was hers, and yet she suddenly felt as though she had the weight of the whole world on her shoulders. Uncertainly she turned for home, sneezing as soft flakes of snow began to settle on her jacket.

  4

  A NEW ARRIVAL

  “Gather around everyone,” Nick called across the yard. “There are things we’ve got to sort out.”

  Kate looked up from where she was sweeping and hurried over to join the others. As Nick ran through the list, she leant on her broom and listened.

  “So, we won’t be taking any lessons on Christmas or Boxing Day,” he said.

  “Then who’s going to muck out and exercise the horses?” Charlie asked.

  “Sarah and I can cope with that, but if you have any spare time to come and help out, that would be great,” Nick started. “And there’s something else too – you’ll be pleased to hear that we’ve got a new horse arriv
ing at Sandy Lane this afternoon.”

  There were low murmurings as everyone started talking amongst themselves.

  “He was booked in a few days ago,” Nick went on.

  “Whose is he?” Tom asked.

  “Well,” Nick hesitated. “He belongs to an old friend of mine – a Mrs. Charlwood, and she’s given the horse away to–”

  “GIVEN him away?” Kate burst out, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

  “Don’t look so shocked,” Nick laughed. “He was her daughter, Jane’s, horse and Jane’s grown up now...moved to Australia...got a baby of her own to look after. Mrs. Charlwood’s emigrating to join her. So she’s given him to the girl who’s been looking after him for the last year – Izzy Paterson. Do any of you know her?”

  The riders all looked blankly at each other and shook their heads.

  “Should we know her?” Tom asked.

  “Well, she lives in Colcott, so she must go to school around here,” Nick mused. “She’s about your age, Kate,” he went on.

  “Well, she’s not in my class at school,” Kate said, shaking her head thoughtfully. “Hmm, Izzy Paterson. I wonder what she’s like.”

  “Anyone Mrs. Charlwood thinks fit to give Midnight to must be pretty special in my eyes,” Nick went on. “He’s an amazing showjumper. Jane won lots of prizes with him. It’ll be good to have some new talent at the stables and as he’s only being kept on at half-livery, we’ll be able to use him in lessons.”

  “And is this Izzy an amazing rider too?” Kate heard Tom asking in a concerned voice.

  “Worried about the competition are you, Tom?” Charlie teased.

  “No,” Tom spluttered, embarrassed. “I was just asking.”

  “Well, that’s where my information dries up, I’m afraid,” Nick laughed. “I only know as much as I’ve told you. You’ll just have to wait and see. Now come on everyone, let’s get going. We need to get the spare box ready for him and the midday hack’s going out in a moment.”

  The chattering continued as Kate turned back to Feather’s stable. It didn’t take her long to tack up the little grey Arab and soon she was leading her out of the stable.