Finding Hope at Hillside Farm

by Rachael Lucas

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I just wondered if you ever – if any of the horses can be ridden?’ Charlotte looked up, pulling the woollen beanie hat she was wearing off her pink hair and spinning it around on a finger before shoving it back on. She twisted her mouth sideways, chewing the inside of her cheek.

  Ella had suspected the question was coming sooner or later. Not many people – especially girls of Charlotte’s age – were content to spend their days with horses on the ground, working with them without riding. The joy – for most people – was getting on, exploring the countryside, feeling the wind in your hair and the sound of hoof beats on turf on a frosty morning.

  ‘It’s just – I noticed saddles in the tack room and I . . .’

  Charlotte was brilliant with the horses, and the clients who’d met her over the last week had loved her – pink hair and all – saying she brought a breath of fresh air to the place. Ella, who even before Bron’s departure had been struggling to keep on top of everything, suspected what they really meant was that they were amazed by how organized and clean everything was all of a sudden.

  ‘Well, it’s a while since he’s been ridden, but Tor would probably love it as much as you would.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Charlotte leapt off the edge of the desk where she’d been perching, almost tripping over her rucksack and falling flat on her face.

  ‘Seriously.’ Ella laughed.

  ‘When d’you think – I mean I’m not suggesting now, but . . .’ The words tumbled out in a burst of excitement.

  ‘It’s been quite some time. A woman from the village was exercising him when her kids were at school, but she was trying to juggle working from home as well and it just sort of fizzled out.’

  Charlotte looked in danger of fizzing over, rather than fizzling anywhere.

  ‘Could we do some work with him on the lunge rein maybe? Get him used to having a saddle on again?’

  It was surprising how sensible she was for eighteen. She knew her stuff and was already, after just a week, proving her worth around the yard. And now – where Ella at the same age would have charged in head first, thrown on a saddle and probably been thrown off just as quickly – Charlotte was taking the steady, measured approach.

  ‘Come on, then, seeing as Catherine has cancelled her session.’

  By the time Ella had gathered everything they needed to work Tor in the school, Charlotte had groomed his dark coat until it was shining like a fresh conker, the silken threads of his mane and tail glistening in the pale winter sun. They carefully placed the saddle on his back, giving him time to get used to the feel of the girth around his stomach after months of freedom. Tor stood placidly, half-dozing, his nose resting on the rope that tied him to the metal ring on the stable door.

  ‘There.’ Charlotte unfastened his head collar, replacing it with the cavesson noseband, which was used for working horses on the lunge rein. ‘Do you want to lead him up?’

  ‘You do it.’

  ‘Really?’ Her eyes were saucers of excitement. She clipped the long rein onto the ring at the front of his noseband and led him forward. Ella took up the lead. It already felt like Charlotte had been here forever.

  She opened the gate and swung it wide, allowing Charlotte and Tor to step through. The sunlight was thin and pale, with no heat in it. She rubbed her hands together, wishing she’d remembered her gloves.

  ‘Just let him have a walk around and get used to the saddle.’

  Charlotte walked in a circle, allowing Tor to walk alongside her, extending the long lunge rein every few moments until eventually he was walking in a fifteen-metre circle around her whilst she stood in the middle, turning as he orbited around her. As always, he looked delighted to be doing something – he was bright and easily bored, and the secret to keeping him happy was keeping his mind occupied. Left to his own devices for too long, he’d start fiddling with the lock on his stable door, worrying at it with his teeth until it slid open and then wandering into the yard looking for something to do. Often Ella or Bron would find him ambling about with a grooming brush in his teeth, or causing trouble with the goats. He was a character, much beloved by the clients for his handsome looks and charm.

  ‘Shall I get him to trot?’

  ‘Go on then.’

  Charlotte gave the command and Tor sprang forward, toes pointing elegantly, his sweeping tail raised high in the air like a flag. Ella watched, leaning over the wooden gate, as Charlotte laughed in delight.

  ‘He’s loving this.’ She steadied him back to a walk again, making sure he was listening to her commands, before signalling him back into a smooth trot.

  ‘I don’t think you’re going to have any problems, somehow.’ Tor’s ear was cocked sideways, his face a picture of concentration. He was desperate to do something. Ella felt a pang of envy at the thought of Charlotte jumping on and heading up across the hills on this beautiful winter day. She didn’t often allow herself to miss riding, but the feeling right then was so vivid – she could imagine the silence of the countryside and the skeletal trees, the sense of wild freedom as the horse beneath her powered forward into a gallop. Her stomach tightened for a moment with a feeling of regret and loss and she turned away, looking across the yard and over the valley. She’d been told by her consultant after the final visit to hospital that she was perfectly safe to ride, but something had stopped her. Shaking her memories away, Ella focused on Charlotte again.

  ‘Why don’t you get on?’

  Tor had been trotting obediently around the arena for a good fifteen minutes and his breath was blowing in white clouds from dilated nostrils. He loved working – his ears were pricked and he looked alert and happy. Ella realized that she’d been holding him back, keeping him focused on the ground work he did with clients.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Charlotte’s face belied the doubt in her words. It lit up like a ray of sunshine in the biting cold of the afternoon.

  ‘Go and grab a hat – there’s a couple in the tack room. I’ll keep him walking round.’

  Ella watched as Charlotte hurtled across the sand of the arena. She vaulted over the gate, her legs flying beneath her. Ella hadn’t expected a horse-mad teenager to have such a natural warmth and maturity when it came to dealing with the clients. She’d been good at working with them – perhaps with time she’d be able to do some client work herself . . . if she was interested.

  Meanwhile the hills stood around them, solid and reliable, changing with the seasons. They were rust-red with bracken, the colours muted and dulled by the onset of winter. The trees had all but lost their leaves now, only a lacing of bright colour left hanging in the branches.

  Bron had arrived safely in Australia, and Ella was surprised at how much she was enjoying the feeling of being in control without having to double-check everything with someone else. It wasn’t so much that Bron expected it – more that she’d never quite shaken off the feeling of being the child in their relationship, even at thirty-three.

  ‘Got it!’ Charlotte hurtled across the yard, waving the hat in the air.

  ‘Better off on your head, I think.’ Ella, who had been allowing Tor to walk gently on the end of the lunge line in sweeping circles, gave a gentle shake, gaining his attention. ‘Here,’ she said, and he turned to face her, walking in obediently as she gathered in the long sweeps of rope.

  Charlotte was tall enough that the stirrup leathers had to be let down by a good six inches. Her long legs hung low on his sides, her feet almost reaching his elbows.

  ‘He’s small, I suppose, compared to the horses over at Jim’s place?’

  ‘No, I quite often rode the ponies.’

  ‘But Arabian horses can carry fully grown men and heavy weights on their back.’

  ‘I know, I’ve read all about them. Did you know they used to sleep in tents?’

  Charlotte grinned, tucking a strand of hair back beneath the chin strap of her riding hat.

  ‘Yes.’ Tor nudged Ella gently in the stomach
, eager to get on. She stepped back, still holding the lunge line, and sent him out again in a wide circle, allowing the rope to feed through her hands until he and Charlotte were orbiting her. She stood at the centre, watching the two of them. It wasn’t clear who was the most excited – Tor’s ears were pricked forward so sharply that they almost met in the middle, his expression focused. He was an intelligent horse and he took everything seriously. Charlotte, on the other hand, was beaming so widely that she looked like the Cheshire Cat.

  ‘He’s like floating on air!’

  ‘He’s a good boy, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’ve dreamed of riding an Arab since I was a little girl. This is amazing. Can we trot?’

  ‘Gently.’ Ella clicked her tongue. ‘T-rot,’ she said, and Tor sprang forward, his muscular haunches propelling him, toes pointing delicately.

  Ella pivoted on one heel, following his movement, watching the two of them. Charlotte had a natural balance and the years of riding out with the trekking centre ponies had given her a good, solid riding position. She looked perfectly comfortable up there. For a moment a pang of envy overtook her and she could imagine how it would feel to get on, feel the power of the muscular horse beneath her, watch the mane flying in the wind. She could open the gate and set off up the lane, onto the path that led up to the wilds of the hill.

  ‘Can I ride him off the lunge rein tomorrow?’

  Charlotte pulled Tor up to a halt, running a hand down the muscles of his neck, ruffling his long, sweeping mane.

  ‘You can have a try now, if you like?’

  Ella unclipped the rein from the front of the cavesson noseband, running a hand down the girth to check it was fastened tightly enough. A slipping saddle could be dangerous. But she didn’t have to force Charlotte to live in the same world of rules and risks. She’d be fine.

  ‘Take him for a trot around now.’

  Charlotte looked confident and balanced, and Tor was walking out, one ear cocked backwards, a sign he was listening to his rider. The silence was broken only by the call of a pair of circling red kites overhead. They swooped down together before hovering silently over the field below, prey in their sights.

  There was a crackling of sticks in the hedgerow. Tor leapt sideways, giving a snort of surprise, and stopped dead. He lifted his head high, ears pricked forward, and gave a warning neigh to the herd which echoed in the emptiness. ‘What was that, hey?’ Ella stepped forward, reaching out a hand to steady him.

  Another whinny mirrored back from the distant field. We’re here, it said, Ella knew. We are safe. Tor stood stock still, as immovable as a statue.

  Ella followed his gaze. In the hedge, for a fleeting second, she thought she saw the face of the little girl again. For some reason, she hadn’t been able to get her out of her head. There was something haunted about her huge, dark eyes.

  ‘Hello?’

  The face darted out of sight.

  ‘Hang on,’ she said to Charlotte. ‘Hop off whilst I investigate.’

  Charlotte gathered the reins in one hand and sprung to the ground on feather-light feet. As Ella made her way across to the overgrown hedge by the side of the arena, she could hear the sounds of something moving in the undergrowth.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Charlotte called across.

  Ella peered in through the spiky branches of the blackthorn bush. It was heavy with dusty purple sloes and as she pushed against the hedge, they pattered to the ground. There was nobody there.

  She stepped back, brushing the damp drops of mist that had splashed on her face from the remaining leaves.

  ‘Take off his saddle and give him a brush down and a bit of hay. I’m just going to have a look down the lane, see if I can see anything.’

  In the distance, Ella could see the small figure. She was running, dark hair flying from a ponytail, arms outstretched. The lane was a no-through road, but tractors still rumbled up and down bringing feed for the hill sheep. And then there were the Land Rovers full of men and spaniels, heading up to shoot pheasants in the bracken. The child wasn’t safe running about on her own like that.

  ‘Back in a minute,’ Ella shouted over her shoulder, slipping through the yard gate and hooking it closed behind her.

  The running with Lissa had definitely started to make a difference to her fitness. She caught up with the little girl in a couple of moments.

  ‘Are you all right, my love?’

  The little girl stopped and looked at her, her big eyes dark and suspicious. She was dressed warmly in a red woollen jumper and a thick padded waistcoat, her cheeks pink from the cold. There was a smudge of mud on her cheek and a piece of blackthorn twig tangled in her fringe. She nodded, silently.

  ‘Are you lost?’

  A shake of the head.

  ‘Where’s your mummy and daddy?’

  ‘They’re gone.’

  Ella felt her eyes widening. What the hell was going on here? It was the same as dealing with a nervous young horse. She had to stay calm, not give the impression of being worried. She knelt down so she was on the same level, looking into the little girl’s watchful brown eyes.

  ‘Gone where?’

  ‘My mummy died.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Ella felt an ache in her chest and realized she was reacting exactly the way adults always had to her when she was young. The cocked head, the pitying tone. She’d realized early – probably by the time she was around the same age as the little girl standing here alone in the road – that telling people meant she had to deal with their own feelings on the subject. So that much she knew.

  ‘Right, well, I think we’d better get you back to –’ She paused for a moment. ‘To whoever is looking after you. OK?’

  There was a moment when Ella could have sworn the little one looked relieved. She nodded.

  ‘So where is home, then?’

  A second later, the answer became clear.

  ‘Hope!’

  A woman in her late sixties, neatly dressed, her ash blonde hair immaculately styled, burst out of a gap in the hedge. ‘There you are!’

  She bent down, enveloping Hope in a hug and looking up, her eyes glittering with tears of relief. ‘Thank you.’ She stood up, brushing pieces of grass from neat blue trousers. She was obviously not a local – nobody hereabouts dressed that smartly unless they were heading into town to go shopping, or out for lunch.

  ‘It’s fine.’ Hope’s voice was matter-of-fact. ‘I didn’t do anything – I was just going to look for –’

  ‘Grandpa and I have told you a million times, darling. You mustn’t just walk out of the house without asking.’

  ‘I was only going to see the horses.’ Hope looked at Ella, her mouth twisting as she chewed on the inside of her cheek, anxiously.

  Ella smiled at her cautiously. She didn’t want to encourage her into absconding from her grandparents’ house, but she remembered being eight and horse-mad and sitting by the window of the family home in Aylesbury, watching as the mounted police clipped past on their huge, glossy steeds. She’d longed for a horse of her own. Every patch of grass in town was an imaginary field, each disused garage a potential stable. She’d written stories about the horses she’d own as a grown-up, until one day her father had surrendered and taken a pony on loan at the livery yard outside town. It had been the happiest moment of her life. Ella suspected that her father – lonely from the loss of his wife, and not sure how to bring up a child by himself – had seen the routine of horse ownership as something to hold onto. The excitement of competing each weekend, training for the dressage tests, polishing the tack until it shone, had given them both something they had been missing. Horses had changed her life twice – once when she was young, and again after the crash, when she’d realized that the soothing routine of turnout, stable duties, cleaning up and mucking out was enough to keep her going when everything else had been lost. So she could empathize with Hope, and understand why she’d sneak off to peer through the spiky branches to watch Tor circling round and round.
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  ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize that there was a riding school at the top of the hill.’

  ‘Oh, we’re not actually a riding school.’ Ella shook her head.

  ‘Oh –’ The woman looked at the logo on the front of Ella’s jacket.

  ‘We’re not a riding school, but we do work with clients. I’m an equine therapist.’

  ‘You fix horses?’

  ‘No.’ Everyone said that, and she smiled despite herself. ‘No, we – I work with people, and the horses are part of the therapy. The joy of them is that they’re non-judgemental. They take us at face value, and –’ She stopped. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you a lecture.’

  ‘No, not at all. It’s very interesting. Well, anyway. Never mind. Come on, darling, we need to get you back home and into the warm.’ She hesitated for a second and then turned, putting a hand to Hope’s back to guide her back down the lane. But then she turned back.

  ‘I don’t suppose –’

  ‘Why don’t you –’ Ella found herself saying.

  The woman took a step. The little girl – Hope – looked from her grandmother to Ella, her eyes wide with anticipation. Her mouth was pursed as if she was holding her breath.

  ‘Bring her up. Tomorrow, if you’re free? Or you could even come today?’

  Why am I saying this, Ella was thinking. But she knew the answer – it was written all over Hope’s little face. Her eye were saucers of excitement and she was standing very still, her fingers stretched out in a star-shape, as if someone had hit pause.

  Hope’s mouth made a perfect circle.

  ‘Today?’

  ‘Grandpa won’t know where we are.’

  ‘Can’t you call him?’

  ‘You can always ring from my landline,’ Ella found herself saying. ‘Mobile reception is terrible here – you’ve probably discovered that already.’

  ‘Are you sure this is OK? We’re not putting you out?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  It was lovely to see the delight on Hope’s face. Charlotte was happy to take her from one stable door to the next to meet the horses who were inside.