Rescuing Rosie

by Jean Ure

  ‘You two,’ he said. ‘What do you think you’re doing? This is private property! You have no right to collect money on these premises unless you have a permit. Which you do not.’

  How did he know?

  He knew because he was a security guard. I’d heard about the security guards. Darren Bickerstaff, who is a boy in our class, had told me. He’d said they could arrest you on the spot! You didn’t even have to be doing anything. Just walking round minding your own business.

  ‘We were just trying to get some money to help a poor sick horse,’ I stammered.

  ‘Well, you go somewhere else and do it. Not in here.’

  ‘They’re not allowed, anyway!’ shrieked the girl with the tin. ‘They’re underage! It’s illegal!’

  That was when we really drooped. It was like all the stuffing had been knocked out of us. It didn’t matter what we tried to do, it seemed there was always some law against it. We couldn’t hold a raffle, we couldn’t collect, we weren’t even supposed to have gone on our sponsored walk. We both felt utterly dejected.

  And then something happened that I can only describe as a miracle. This lady was walking past. We didn’t recognise her at first – but she recognised us! She stopped and said, ‘Oh dear! In trouble again?’

  It was the cat lady! The one Katy had given all her dad’s money to!

  ‘What’s the problem this time?’ she said.

  She didn’t sound angry; more like sorry for us. Glumly I explained how we were trying to collect money to rescue Rosie.

  ‘We thought we’d make a tin like your cat one, but they won’t let us.’

  ‘They won’t let us do anything,’ said Katy.

  ‘Whatever we try, they say it’s illegal!’

  ‘Alas,’ said the cat lady, ‘that is bewrockrissy for you.’

  Well, that is what I thought she said. It was what it sounded like. I have since discovered that it is spelt b.u.r.e.a.u.c.r.a.c.y., and that what it means is rules and regulations and bunches of people telling you that you’re not allowed to do things.

  ‘I fear,’ said the cat lady, ‘that making money is never easy.’

  ‘We had enough before Sidney went and chased your cat!’ It came bursting out of me before I could stop it.

  I didn’t mean to sound accusing, but Katy immediately burst into tears and cried, ‘Oh, please! Please don’t! Rosie’s going to die and it’s all my fault!’

  The cat lady said, ‘Why is it all your fault?’

  ‘It’s not,’ I said. ‘It’s both our faults.’

  Before I knew it, I was telling her the whole sad story.

  ‘I thought he’d be all right, I thought he was too old to do anything silly, so I took him off the lead—’

  ‘And I gave you the twenty pounds that my dad had given us because I was in a panic and now we don’t have enough left!’ The tears came welling up in Katy’s eyes all over again. They were already pink from the crying she’d done earlier.

  ‘Ah.’ The cat lady nodded. ‘That begins to make sense! I did wonder why you were so generous. I only meant you to put fifty p in the pot. I just wanted to teach you a lesson, not rob you!’

  ‘We robbed Rosie,’ sobbed Katy. ‘We’ve robbed her of her life!’

  ‘Now, now, don’t be overdramatic.’ The cat lady said it briskly. She was quite a brisk sort of person. ‘All is not yet lost! Where exactly is she, this horse of yours?’

  I told her that she was at Farley Down, and the cat lady raised her eyebrows.

  ‘That place! It should have been shut down years ago. So, they’re flogging this poor animal to death but if you can manage to raise enough money you can rescue her. Only now you’re twenty pounds short. Well! Let’s see if we can’t think of a solution … suppose you give me what you’ve got in that tin, and in return I’ll give you your twenty pounds back. How does that strike you?’

  Katy said ‘Oh!’ and clapped both hands to her mouth. I think she just couldn’t believe it. Someone was actually being nice to us!

  I said ‘Oh!’ as well. But instead of clapping my hands to my mouth, I thrust our tin at the cat lady. ‘That means we could go and rescue her straight away!’

  ‘How do you propose to get there?’ said the cat lady. ‘It’s a fair old distance. Would you like me to drive you?’

  Better and better! Sometimes you feel that there is some justice in the world.

  But Katy was plucking at me. ‘Hannah … you don’t think—’

  ‘What?’

  ‘We ought to ring home?’

  I was about to say no – I just wanted to go and get Rosie – when the cat lady stepped in.

  ‘Certainly you ought! You should always ring home. Do it straight away.’

  I pulled a face at Katy. Her and her stupid ideas! It was all wasting valuable time. As it happened, neither of our mums was in, so we simply left messages. Katy said that at least it would stop them worrying. I thought yes, and it could mean we arrived too late. I didn’t say so, however. Katy was already feeling quite guilty enough.

  ‘Come on, then!’ said the cat lady. ‘Get rid of your bin liners and we’ll go and rescue a horse!’

  The cat lady’s car had stickers all over it – CATS PROTECTION, and CRUMBLE DOWN CAT RESCUE – and smelt a bit catty in a warm, cosy sort of way.

  The cat lady’s name was Miss Hatterman and as it turned out it was just as well she was with us. I don’t know what we would have done if she hadn’t been. We might even have simply given up and crept away, defeated. I certainly hope we wouldn’t, but we were just feeling so bruised and battered.

  When we got to the stables Miss Hatterman said she had better come in with us, ‘Just in case.’ I think she meant just in case old Chislett tried to cheat us – which is exactly what he did.

  For a start, Rosie wasn’t there. She’d been sent on another hack …

  Katy clutched at my arm. I could feel her fingers digging into me.

  ‘I thought, according to these young girls,’ said Miss Hatterman, ‘this particular horse was not fit to be taken on hacks?’

  ‘These two young girls ought to mind their own poxy business!’ snarled old Chislett. ‘Apart from anything else, they haven’t the faintest idea what they’re talking about!’

  ‘Well, there’s a perfectly easy way to find out,’ said Miss Hatterman. ‘We can always call a vet to come and examine the horse. See what he says.’

  ‘You do that,’ agreed the horrible man. ‘He’ll tell you what I’m telling you … that horse is as fit as any other so long as it’s ridden quietly.’

  ‘She wasn’t ridden quietly last time!’ I cried. ‘She came back all in a lather!’

  ‘Yes, and she was being cantered,’ said Katy. ‘We saw her!’

  ‘Did you, now?’

  ‘Yes, we did! And she shouldn’t be, she’s got damaged lungs!’

  Katy turned desperately to Miss Hatterman. We were terrified she would choose to believe old Chislett rather than us. Grown-ups almost always side with each other against young people. But Miss Hatterman obviously didn’t like old Chislett – well, I don’t really see how anyone could, the way he kept shouting swear words all over the place.

  ‘I believe you agreed that if these girls could raise sufficient money, you would let them take the horse away.’

  A look of extreme cunning came over the Chislett’s face. ‘I might have done. Might not have done.’

  ‘Did you, or didn’t you?’ said Miss Hatterman.

  ‘What if I did?’

  ‘We’ve got the money!’ Katy pulled up her sweater to show him her bumbag, but Miss Hatterman put out a hand to stop her.

  ‘Not until we see the horse.’

  ‘Well, you can’t see the horse because it’s not poxy well here! What do you think I am? A poxy magician? In any case, I’ve changed my mind. You can keep your money. I’ll keep the horse.’

  The Chislett went striding off, all bow-legged and belligerent, across the yard.

  ‘You
can’t do this!’ I shouted. ‘We had an agreement!’

  ‘You think I give a toss?’ The Chislett turned and made a rude sign. A really rude sign. ‘Get out of my yard or I’ll have you up for trespassing!’

  ‘Charming,’ murmured Miss Hatterman.

  ‘We did have an agreement,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, I believe you! Don’t worry, we’re not letting this go. Let us see –’ Miss Hatterman beckoned imperiously to a girl who had just emerged from one of the boxes – ‘if we can prise out a bit more information.’

  The girl came up. She wasn’t much older than us and she was looking really scared.

  ‘It’s all right, I’m not going to eat you,’ said Miss Hatterman. But I don’t think it was Miss Hatterman she was scared of; I think it was old Chislett. ‘We’d just like to know where the ride has gone.’

  The girl gave a fearful glance back over her shoulder.

  ‘To the Gallops,’ she muttered.

  The Gallops! My heart sank like a block of cement. Everyone – unless they were complete beginners – took the Gallops at full tilt.

  ‘Oh no,’ whispered Katy. She had turned sheet-white. For just a moment I really thought she was going to faint.

  ‘Come!’ Miss Hatterman led the way back to her car. ‘Let us go and intercept them!’

  Miss Hatterman was quite old – at least seventy, I should think – but she drove that car like she was some kind of racing driver. As we reached the Gallops we could see the ride strung out along its length. Even those poor knackered horses from Farley Down were flogged at full stretch along the Gallops.

  ‘Where’s your one?’ said Miss Hatterman. ‘Can you see her?’

  ‘N-no,’ quavered Katy. And then, ‘Yes! She’s right up at the front!’

  The big red-faced man was riding her. He had a crop, and he was thrashing Rosie with it, to make her go.

  Katy screamed. I stuffed my fist in my mouth.

  Miss Hatterman, grim-faced, said, ‘We’ll put a stop to this!’

  She stepped on the gas and the car shot down the road that ran alongside. We soon overtook the horses. But even as we drew to a halt, Rosie stumbled and fell.

  She did not get up again.

  We were too late!

  Miss Hatterman brought the car to a stop. Katy and I went stumbling out.

  ‘Rosie!’ I cried. ‘Oh, Rosie!’

  I fell to my knees beside her. That poor, gentle, trusting horse, killed by the greed and cruelty of human beings!

  Katy knelt down next to me. Tears were streaming from her eyes.

  The red-faced man had come off when Rosie fell. He had gone sprawling. Served him right! Maybe he had broken his neck. Who cared?

  Rosie was all we cared about! Our dear, sweet, darling Rosie. She had been through so much in her life! Caught in a fire, terrified and unable to escape. She should have been allowed to live out her remaining years in a lush green meadow, with some horsey friends. Not be ridden to death by some horrible brute of a man, thrashing at her, terrifying her, digging his heels into her poor suffering body.

  All the other riders had pulled up. They sat there, white-faced, staring at that big, brave, beautiful horse lying so still on the ground. Natalie was the only one who dismounted. She handed the reins to someone and came over.

  ‘We told you!’ sobbed Katy. ‘We told you!’

  The red-faced man had picked himself up.

  ‘I wasn’t to know! How was I to know? Jeff said she was okay! He said she was just lazy. How was I to know?’

  I opened my mouth to yell something but became suddenly aware that Katy was tugging at my sleeve. ‘Hannah!’ she gasped. ‘Look!’

  I didn’t want to look. I simply couldn’t bear it.

  ‘Look!’ shrieked Hannah.

  I forced myself to do so. ‘Oh!’

  Rosie was still with us! Her eyes had opened and her flanks had started to heave as she struggled for breath. But her eyes were rolling, and her breath came in long, rattling gasps.

  Katy and I crouched there, murmuring to her, urgently but softly, so that only she could hear.

  ‘Darling Rosie! Please don’t die! We love you so much! We’ve fought so hard! Please, Rosie! Stay with us!’

  Of course we knew she couldn’t understand what we were saying. But she was a poor sick animal in distress and all we could hope was that the sound of our voices, whispering in her ear, and the feel of our hands, gently stroking and soothing, would bring her some comfort and give her the will to keep fighting.

  I have no idea what Natalie was doing all this time. Just standing there, I guess; I didn’t bother to look. I was too concerned with our poor Rosie, trying to ease her suffering.

  After what seemed like ages, though it was probably only a few minutes, Rosie started to make feeble attempts to get back on her feet. We didn’t know whether to help her or try to keep her still. If she wanted to get up, then surely that must be a good sign?

  But suppose the strain proved too much?

  We didn’t know what to do!

  It was Miss Hatterman who came to our aid. Not Natalie, who should have been the one. After all, she was in charge of the ride. She was supposed to know about horses. But she was just standing there, looking dazed. As if for the first time she was accepting that everything we’d told her had been true. Rosie did have damaged lungs and she shouldn’t have been ridden.

  Miss Hatterman said, ‘Easy, now! Take it easy, sweetheart!’ And then she helped us – ever so gently – get Rosie back up. It seemed to be what she wanted to do. They always say that animals know what is best for themselves, the way that dogs, for instance, will eat grass if they are feeling sick, so maybe you have to let them choose.

  ‘Where was it you were planning to take her?’ said Miss Hatterman.

  We explained that we had to telephone Mrs Broom so that she could come with her horsebox.

  Miss Hatterman said, ‘Right. Give me her number! I’ll call her straight away.’

  Natalie suddenly sprang back into life. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘This horse belongs to my father.’

  Miss Hatterman regarded her coldly. ‘In that case, young woman, your father should be ashamed of himself. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t face a prosecution.’

  That shut her up!

  By now, all the other riders had dismounted and were standing around in a huddle. Red Face was still insisting, to anyone who would listen, that it wasn’t his fault: ‘Jeff said she was okay!’

  It was true that old Chislett had tried making out that Rosie was fit enough to be ridden, so maybe I should have felt at least a little bit sorry for poor old Red Face. I should think it would haunt you all your life long, knowing that you have flogged and whipped and beaten a noble animal almost to death. But all my sympathies were with Rosie; I didn’t have any to spare for the person who had caused her such agony.

  Katy and I crouched by her side as she struggled for breath. Her ears were pulled back, her lips stretched over her teeth and her poor eyes were still rolling in their sockets. Horrid foamy stuff was coming out of her nostrils, and her flanks heaved painfully with the effort of trying to get enough air into her lungs. She was trembling all over, and the sweat was pouring off her.

  I said to Natalie, ‘She’ll get cold! We should wipe her!’

  Natalie just shook her head, helplessly, as if to say, ‘What with?’ I think she cared; sort of. She wasn’t totally heartless. But she was just so shocked by what had happened. She had this glazed expression in her eyes. Perhaps she hadn’t realised until now how cruel and grasping her dad really was.

  Rosie suddenly threw her head into the air then let it sink back down again between her shoulders.

  ‘Let’s take her saddle off,’ said Katy.

  That was a good idea, and one that I should have thought of. Gently we removed the saddle, and the saddle blanket as well, because it was drenched in sweat. We had to find something to wipe her with!

  ‘Here,’ said Miss Hatterman. ‘Pu
t this over her.’ She had brought a rug from the car, a lovely warm tartan rug! ‘How is she doing?’ She took hold of Rosie’s bridle and gently stroked her neck. ‘Poor girl! You’re very distressed, aren’t you? Don’t worry! We’ll soon have you tucked into a nice cosy stall and the vet will come and see you.’

  It is so lovely when a grown-up person talks to animals the way that me and Katy do! Most grown-ups are too embarrassed; they think it makes them look silly. It didn’t bother Miss Hatterman one little bit! She probably talked to her cats like that.

  ‘Your Mrs Broom is on her way,’ she said. ‘She’ll be here in a few minutes.’

  You will simply never guess what happened next. There was a loud screech of brakes and a car pulled up. It was old Chislett! He came roaring over, waving his arms like a windmill and screaming four-letter words, a great long spew of them.

  ‘What the devil is going on here? What have you done to that poxy horse? And what are you poxy kids doing?’

  ‘They’re taking her to a sanctuary.’ That was Natalie. She sounded quite defiant. I couldn’t believe it! Suddenly she was on our side. ‘They’ve got someone coming to take her away.’

  ‘My ****** horse!’ screamed Chislett. ‘That’s my ****** horse!’

  Miss Hatterman stepped forward, placing herself protectively in front of us.

  ‘It is no longer your horse,’ she said. ‘It is our horse. And if you give us any trouble, we shall bring a prosecution.’

  Old Chislett had gone so purple in the face I thought he was going to explode. Either that, or give Miss Hatterman a black eye. And then a truly surprising thing happened. The red-faced man came barrelling over. He grabbed hold of the Chislett’s collar and began shaking him to and fro.

  ‘You told me that horse was fit to be ridden! You gave me your word! You said if it didn’t go, then to give it some stick. You said it was just lazy. Now look at it! Look at the state of it!’

  He lifted old Chislett off the ground and swung him round, like a puppet, so that he was forced to look at Rosie.

  ‘Collapsed, didn’t it? With me on top of it! I could have broken my neck!’

  ‘Yes, and the horse could have died!’ That was another of the riders, a woman, deciding to join in. ‘You must have known it wasn’t fit!’