by Amanda Wills
Chapter 15
The following day Caroline drove Poppy and Charlie into Plymouth to buy school shoes, rucksacks, pens and pencil cases, yet more reminders that their holiday was almost over. Poppy had visited her new high school briefly during their first week in Devon and had left feeling overwhelmed at the size of both the school and the students. They had been shown around by the head boy, Jordan White. Jordan was so long and lanky he looked as if he’d been stretched on a rack in some medieval torture chamber. Charlie had spent the entire morning staring with interest at an angry cluster of spots on his chin. Poppy had squirmed with embarrassment when the puzzled six-year-old had asked the sixth-former, ‘Isn’t Jordan a girl’s name?’
She wondered how on earth she’d ever manage to find her way around the countless corridors and classrooms with their unfamiliar odour of sweaty trainers and school dinners. She was beyond glad that Scarlett would be starting with her.
As they drove home across the moors, Poppy noticed for the first time that the trees were beginning to turn from vivid green to ochre. It wouldn’t be long before the swallows disappeared and autumn arrived in their place. She thought of Cloud, facing the harsh Dartmoor winter not only lame but underweight, unlike the round, hardy Dartmoor ponies, whose coats were becoming thicker as the days grew shorter.
“So, are you two planning to go badger-watching this evening?” Caroline asked, as they crunched up the drive to home.
“Oh, yes please mum.” Charlie cast a sidelong look at his sister. “We found a hole in the roots of a tree that looked like it might be the entrance to a sett but even though we looked and looked we couldn’t find any fresh poo, so it must be an old one.”
“At least it shows there must be badgers about. It’s just a case of tracking them down,” said Poppy, who felt that Charlie’s apparent interest in badger-watching was the perfect cover to see Cloud. When Charlie asked for something Caroline rarely said no.
That evening they ventured out to the wood an hour before dusk, Charlie taking two steps to Poppy’s one as she strode purposefully across the field.
“I think we’ll put the bucket in the same place, but tonight we’ll sit on the tree instead of hiding behind it. We need him to start getting used to us,” Poppy told her brother.
“Cool. I’ve brought some pictures I’ve drawn of some panther paw prints so we can look for them as well,” Charlie produced a crumpled sheet of paper from deep inside the pocket of his shorts.
“You’re not still on about that are you? We haven’t even seen a badger in the woods, let alone a big cat.” Seeing the indignant look on her brother’s face Poppy decided there was no point antagonising him. “OK, on the way there and back we’ll keep an eye out for paw prints, but while we’re waiting for Cloud we need to be quiet and still. We can’t afford to scare him.”
Charlie dipped his head in assent. Soon they reached the bend in the river and Poppy placed the bucket on the small beach. This time she’d added a scoop of soaked sugar beet to the pony nuts to give Cloud extra energy. To her surprise they only had to wait for ten minutes before the pony ventured out into the open. He headed for the food and wolfed it down, only looking up once he had licked the bucket clean. Keeping her voice low and reassuring Poppy began talking to him. She felt self-conscious at first but Cloud pricked his grey ears and watched her without moving. So she prattled on until her steady monologue became part of the familiar noises of the wood.
After what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes Cloud lowered his head and drank from the river. He gave them one last look, then, with a swish of his tail, turned and hobbled off. Poppy looked at Charlie, her green eyes shining. “He’s getting used to us, isn’t he? He watched us for ages without moving. He knows we want to help him, I’m sure of it!”
But Charlie had more pressing matters on his mind. “Yes, it’s brilliant, Poppy. But can we please start looking for big cat prints now?”
Over the next three evenings they gradually sat closer and closer to the bucket and when Cloud arrived Poppy kept up her chatter so he got used to the sound of her voice.
He was still hobbling but his stomach looked slightly rounder and his coat a shade less dull. He looked at them inquisitively as Poppy talked and she felt as though she was making real progress. She texted Scarlett every morning to update her, and wished the last precious days of summer away in her impatience to see Cloud each evening. She felt as though she was walking around in her own little bubble of happiness.
But on the fourth night Poppy’s bubble was broken. She and Charlie arrived in the clearing and she placed the bucket on the beach, confident that Cloud would turn up as usual. But half an hour passed, then an hour, with no sign of the pony.
“Where is he?” she wailed, looking around desperately. “I thought he was beginning to trust me. Is it something I’ve done wrong?” Perhaps he’d been hit by a car, caught by George Blackstone or fallen down a ditch and broken his leg…
She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving in case Cloud was in danger. But it was getting late and she knew Caroline would be worried. She finally admitted defeat and they trudged back home.
“I’m sure he’s OK,” said Charlie. “He probably went off exploring and didn’t realise what time it was. It happens to me all the time.”
But Poppy was on edge all evening and after a fitful night’s sleep woke early. She let herself out of the house and ran all the way to the clearing. She could barely believe it when she found the bucket was empty. It gave her a glimmer of hope and made her more determined than ever to try again that night.
Charlie spent the day sneezing.
“No badger-watching for you tonight I’m afraid, angel. You need an early night,” said Caroline, as they sat down at the kitchen table to eat plates of pasta. Usually Caroline made her own pasta sauce but tonight it was out of a jar.
“Can I still go? I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before we see a badger,” said Poppy, her face turned expectantly towards her stepmother.
She could see Caroline wavering and pressed home her advantage. “It’s not far into the wood from the Riverdale fence. And I’ll take my mobile with me.”
“OK, but only for half an hour. It looks like rain and I don’t want you going down with a cold as well, not with school starting so soon,” she said.
Rolling grey clouds were chasing each other across the horizon like a herd of monstrous sheep as Poppy left the house. Once in the clearing she sat with her back against an oak tree, just a few feet from the bucket. For an agonising half an hour, worry gnawed at her insides. Then she heard a familiar rustle in the undergrowth. She was sure it was the sound of a large animal making its way closer. The rustling stopped. Poppy held her breath and waited. Branches crackled and Cloud appeared. He saw Poppy and walked straight over to the bucket. Exhaling slowly, Poppy began talking to him as he munched away quietly.
“I’m going to stand up ever so slowly and see if you’ll let me stroke you. I’ll be quiet and gentle and I promise I won’t hurt you. I want to help you, Cloud, but you have to trust me.” He looked at her, his flanks rising and falling with each breath and his ears flicking backwards and forwards. Something about the girl’s voice stirred a deeply buried memory. This girl brought him food in a bucket that smelt of his old companion, the donkey who’d always made him feel safe. Cloud’s leg ached and he felt tired. He could smell the first faint traces of winter in the air and he didn’t feel ready for the long, cold, dark months ahead. He stood still as Poppy approached infinitesimally slowly, her eyes cast down, her voice calm and gentle. He flinched as she raised her hand to his flank but remained still as she stroked him softly, still talking to him. The outside world disappeared, leaving just the brown-haired girl and the dappled grey pony set in sharp relief against the emerald green backdrop of the trees.
“That’s it, there’s a good boy. You are so brave,” murmured Poppy as she stroked Cloud’s neck and ran her hand over his withers and ribs. She felt him relax impercepti
bly under her hand and he lowered his head and looked at her. A jolt of pure euphoria shot through her body and she struggled to keep her voice steady. She remembered the packet of Polos she had brought with her but as she slowly reached into her pocket for them the silence was pierced by the harsh ringtone of her mobile phone. Cloud’s head shot up, he turned on the spot and cantered unevenly off into the woods. Poppy’s elation shrivelled to dust and she looked in frustration at the screen.
Riverdale calling. Caroline! Furious and resentful, she pressed the green key. “I was finally getting somewhere and you’ve just frightened the living daylights out of him,” she hissed without thinking.
“Sweetheart, I’m just checking you’re OK. It’s getting late.”
The hurt in Caroline’s voice irritated Poppy intensely. “There was no need to phone. I’m perfectly fine,” she snapped.
“Don’t be like that, Poppy. I was worried about you. Are you on your way back yet? And who did I frighten the living daylights out of, anyway?”
Poppy reminded herself why she was supposed to be in the wood. “The badger, of course. I saw him close up for the first time,” she lied.
“Charlie will be fed up he missed it but I’m glad you’ve had an exciting evening. Anyway, come home now. I don’t want you out there on your own too late.”
Poppy felt like stamping her feet or hollering to the skies but knew it wouldn’t make any difference. As usual Caroline had borne the brunt of her anger. She picked up the bucket and took one last look at the curtain of trees through which Cloud had disappeared. A slight movement caught her eye and she squinted in the half-light, struggling to see what it was. Two soft brown eyes on a ghostly grey face were staring back at her through the branches. Her heart sang as she realised that Cloud was still there.
“You brave, brave boy. I am so proud of you. And I’ll see you tomorrow, Cloud,” she told him.
By the time Poppy opened the back door she was whistling cheerfully, her earlier frustration forgotten. Feeling benevolent towards Caroline she called, “I’m back! Would you like a cup of tea?”
Her stepmother walked into the kitchen and leant against the doorframe as she watched Poppy. “That would be lovely thanks, sweetheart. I was just going to make one myself.”
“How’s Charlie feeling? Did he -. Hold on, have you been crying?” asked Poppy, noticing Caroline’s red-rimmed eyes.
“No, not really. Well, yes. A little,” Caroline admitted. She looked discomfited and Poppy was lost for words. In all the years she had known Caroline she’d never seen her stepmother shed a single tear.
“What’s wrong? It wasn’t because I was cross when you rang, was it?” Poppy was incredulous.
“No. Well, not really. I’ve just been feeling a bit down recently and little things seem to set me off. It wasn’t your fault. It’s me.” Caroline shrugged her shoulders and avoided Poppy’s eye as she crossed the kitchen to lift two dirty mugs off the draining board before rinsing them half-heartedly under the cold tap. Poppy looked around. Her head had been so full of Cloud that she hadn’t noticed until now that the kitchen was a state. Their dinner plates were still on the table and the remains of the pasta sauce had congealed like a sticky red scab around the edge of the saucepan. Caroline followed her gaze and shrugged again. “I know. It’s a bit of a mess, but I was just coming out to tackle it.”
Poppy said firmly, “No, you go and sit down. I’ll sort this lot out and I’ll bring your tea through in a minute.”
To her horror Caroline looked as if she might be about to burst into tears again, so Poppy turned and started clearing the table, feeling helpless in the face of her stepmother’s distress. Poppy knew Caroline well enough to know something must be very wrong and she had no idea how to fix it. As she loaded the dishwasher she wished her dad was home. He always knew what to do.