by Jean Ure
‘He had no right sending it out like that!’
‘Shouldn’t be allowed to keep horses if that’s the way he treats them!’
They were all at it now, all ganging up on old Chislett. It was about time! He didn’t run a stables, he ran a prison. All his horses were knackered. They weren’t fed properly, they weren’t looked after properly, and now he’d almost managed to kill our poor Rosie.
A horsebox had drawn up behind Miss Hatterman’s car. A big woman wearing stretchy riding breeches and a rollneck sweater under a bright yellow fleece got out of it and came running over.
‘This the horse? Let me have a look at her!’ She crouched down beside Rosie. ‘Oh, my poor baby! You poor, poor baby! What have they been doing to you?’
‘Riding her to death!’ I said.
‘Yes! It looks like it.’
She ran her hands over Rosie’s trembling flanks. You could just tell from the way she did it that she knew about horses. For the first time I felt a faint glimmer of hope.
‘Is she going to be all right?’ whispered Katy.
‘Get her back to my place. Already rung the vet. Should be there to meet us.’
With such tenderness, step by faltering step, she coaxed Rosie towards the horsebox. Old Chislett didn’t say a word, not even a four-letter one. Some of the riders were muttering about reporting him to the RSPCA. Even his own daughter wouldn’t speak up for him. That mean, miserable man had had his day!
We helped lead Rosie up the ramp. She was still very wobbly, but she was so brave! Mrs Broom said that if we liked we could stay with her. She said it would help keep her calm if we were there.
We remembered, just in time, to call our thanks to Mrs Hatterman for all that she’d done.
‘Ring me,’ she said. ‘Let me know what happens.’
We promised that we would.
All the way to Mrs Broom’s place we whispered words of encouragement to Rosie, telling her what a brave girl she was, and how she was going to be looked after. Katy remembered what Bethany had once told us, about how you could communicate with horses by gently blowing up their nostrils. She tried it with Rosie and Rosie twitched an ear to show us that she knew we were there. I kept stroking her, trying to stop her trembling, trying to reassure her that nothing else bad was going to happen to her. I was terrified she might think she was going to the knacker’s yard. It made me go cold all over to reflect that this was almost certainly what would have happened if Katy and I – and Miss Hatterman – hadn’t turned up when we did.
The vet was there waiting for us as we drove into Mrs Broom’s yard. Mrs Broom said that as Rosie knew us we should be the ones to introduce her to her new home. We made it as easy for her as we possibly could, murmuring softly to her as we led her across the yard and into the sweet-smelling box, big and airy, with a bed of fresh straw that had been prepared for her. She was so good, and so docile! All she wanted to do – all she’d ever wanted to do – was just to please people.
We would have given anything to be able to stay until the vet had finished, but Mrs Broom warned us that he might be there some time. She told us that Rosie was a very sick horse.
‘It won’t be quick or easy. But, rest assured, I’ll call you the minute there’s any news.’
With that, sadly, we had to be content. We kissed Rosie goodbye and set off on the long journey home. We had to take a bus as far as Crumble Down, and then walk back across the fields.
Needless to say, Mum was in a state, wondering what had happened.
‘I got your message,’ she said. ‘Where on earth have you been?’
‘We went to rescue Rosie,’ I said. ‘Mum, she’s safe! A lovely lady has taken her! She’s got this sanctuary out at Church End, and she’s promised to do everything she can!’
‘Well, that is excellent news,’ said Mum. ‘Well done, the pair of you! You’ve worked really hard. I’m so pleased!’
I basked happily in Mum’s approval – which lasted about two seconds! And then she said, ‘It would be nice to think that now, maybe, life could return to normal? Whatever passes for normal, with you two. This week a horse, next week, a hippopotamus … who knows?’
We would rescue a hippopotamus. Of course we would! If we ever came across one that was in trouble.
We were just finishing tea when my phone rang. Mum doesn’t like me answering the phone when we’re eating, but she didn’t say anything when I snatched it up. She knew I was desperately waiting to hear about Rosie.
‘Katy?’ I suddenly found that I had gone all weak and trembly. ‘Did she ring?’
Katy said, ‘Yes! She just called. Rosie’s going to be all right!’
I gave a short scream and jubilantly punched the air.
‘She said we can go and see her whenever we want, maybe next Saturday, and do you want to ring Miss Hatterman or shall I do it?’
I said that I would do it as I really like giving good news to people. I asked Mum if I could do it immediately, and Mum said, ‘Yes, go on, you’ve deserved it.’
Miss Hatterman seemed almost as pleased as me and Katy.
‘Wonderful!’ she said. ‘Absolutely wonderful! And by the way,’ she added, ‘you’ll be relieved to hear I have taken steps to have that dreadful place shut down and that one of the big sanctuaries has agreed to take the horses. So whatever you do, don’t give a penny piece to that man. Not one penny. Do you hear?’
It was only then that I remembered … we had more than two hundred pounds that we didn’t need any more! I rang Katy back as soon as we’d finished tea and we discussed what to do with it. We decided it was only right it should go to Mrs Broom for looking after Rosie.
We agreed that we would hand it over the following Sunday, before we went for our ride. What we would do, we decided, was take Benjy with us, then we could drop him off at home, collect our bikes and whizz up to the stables. Katy agreed that Benjy deserved the chance to say hello to Rosie, since he had, after all, done his best to help when we were trying to raise money. I’d told her how he’d staggered into my room with his arms full of clothes that he thought we could sell. And then, when I’d said that Mum wouldn’t approve, he’d gone and got some of his toys. It wasn’t every little boy that would do that!
I asked him if he would like to come with us. ‘We’re going to visit the poor sick horse that you helped us rescue.’
He was so proud when I said that. He importantly told Mum: ‘Going to vithit the poor thick horth that I helped rethcue!’
We should have been happy, that Sunday. We were happy, to begin with. Just sitting there on the bus, the three of us, on our way to see Rosie. I don’t know how Katy and I managed to fall out with each other. We never fall out! We’re above that sort of thing. We’re Animal Samaritans, and animals come first. We don’t have time for quarrelling.
I can’t remember which of us started it. It may have been Katy; it may have been me. I think I said something about making sure we didn’t turn up late for our ride, and Katy then pointed out that we hadn’t actually booked for a ride.
I said, ‘No, but they’ll be expecting us. We always go on a Sunday.’
Katy reminded me that we hadn’t gone last Sunday. ‘Or the Sunday before. That was when you made us go to Farley Down.’
‘Oh.’ I’d forgotten that. And it had been my idea! ‘In that case,’ I said, ‘I’d better call them right now.’ I pulled out my phone. ‘What’s the number? Can you remember?’
Katy always remembers numbers. I waited impatiently, but quite suddenly she burst out, ‘I’m not sure we ought to be doing it!’
‘Doing what?’ I said.
‘Riding,’ said Katy.
Well, so that was how it started. But whether it was my fault or Katy’s that we ended up being so horrid to each other, I am not absolutely certain.
I remember Katy saying that riding was okay if you owned your own horse, because then you could be sure it was being properly looked after and not ridden into the ground or kept in a ho
rrible dark prison cell. Also, she said, it wouldn’t be sent for horsemeat if it got sick, or sold to someone else if you got too big for it.
I remember saying that I agreed with her, but that if people like us didn’t go to riding schools there wouldn’t be any riding schools, and what did she think would happen to all the poor horses?
Katy then said something about too many horses being bred anyway – ‘Half of them end up as horsemeat’ – and I said, ‘Well, all of them would end up as horsemeat if you had your way!’
So then Katy accused me of not caring about the welfare of horses but only about my own selfish pleasure.
‘Just because you like riding, you try to pretend it’s all right!’
Well! That made me really cross. So in return I told her that she only wanted to stop because she didn’t enjoy it.
‘Because basically you’re scared!’
I suppose it was rather nasty of me. But she had accused me of being selfish!
After that, it all went to pieces. Poor Benjy kept looking from one of us to the other, obviously trying to work out what was making us so cross. We’d started out so happily! By the time we reached Mrs Broom’s we were hardly on speaking terms. And then we saw Rosie, our big, brave, beautiful horse! And all of a sudden our anger just melted away.
You can’t be mad at each other when you both love animals. It is just such a waste of energy.
Rosie was in her box, standing there with her big horsey head hanging over the top of the door. When she saw us her ears pricked up and she made a little excited whinnying sound.
‘She recognises us!’ cried Katy.
‘Well, of course she does,’ said Mrs Broom. ‘Horses aren’t stupid! They always remember the people who love them.’
I asked whether we could give her an apple, and Mrs Broom said that we could, so we went into her box and held out two big juicy apples that we had brought with us and while she was eating them we cuddled and crooned, and Rosie rubbed her head against us and then did her old trick of nuzzling our pockets in case we had more titbits. And of course we’d put some in there, just in case. I had a carrot, and Katy had a biscuit. Benjy was upset because he didn’t have anything, so I broke my carrot in half for him and he giggled delightedly as Rosie very gently closed her lips over it.
It was so heart-warming! She was looking like her old self again. Her head was up, her coat was shiny, she was interested in all that was going on around her. She still trusted human beings in spite of all that she had suffered.
‘But you won’t ever suffer again,’ I whispered.
Mrs Broom said that next week she would turn her out into the paddock with her other rescues.
‘She’ll lead the good life from now on.’
We gave Mrs Broom the money we had collected and she was really grateful. It made it seem all worthwhile! We forgot the horrid things that had happened: old Chislett swearing at us, and the security guard threatening us, and the Mouth sneering at us, calling us stupid townies. Our darling Rosie was safe, and that was all that mattered.
It’s moments like that when you know you’ll always fight for animals. You’ll go on rescuing them, no matter what. Once you’ve started, it’s impossible to stop.
We finally, reluctantly, had to tear ourselves away. We both said our goodbyes to Rosie. Katy blew up her nose and kissed her: I wobbled her big rubbery lip with my finger. Benjy, not being able to reach that far, wrapped his arms round one of her legs! It wasn’t something you could safely do with many horses, but with Rosie we didn’t even hold our breath. She was the gentlest horse ever! We promised that we would come back very soon and visit her.
‘Though I expect,’ said Katy, ‘once she’s out in the paddock she’ll find herself a handsome horsey boyfriend and forget all about us.’
‘She may well find a boyfriend,’ agreed Mrs Broom, ‘but she’ll never forget you.’
The three of us set off back down the track, towards the main road and the bus stop. Katy and I were silent for a while, then suddenly we both spoke together.
‘I’m really sorry I—’
We stopped.
‘After you.’
We said that together too!
‘I’m really sorry I said you were scared,’ I said.
‘I’m sorry I said you were selfish,’ said Katy.
‘Well, but I probably am.’ I sighed. This was a BIG DECISION I was about to take. ‘You’re right, I’m just thinking about me. Not the horses. Maybe I ought to stop doing it.’
‘Hannah, no!’ cried Katy. ‘It’s important you don’t stop. Because if you stop you won’t know what’s going on, and if you don’t know what’s going on then it’s like closing your eyes to the truth. It means you don’t have to do anything about it, which is a whole lot easier than having to fight, and stand up to people like old Chislett and get shouted at and sworn at. When I actually stop to think about it,’ she said, ‘it’s your duty not to stop.’
I looked at her uncertainly. ‘You really mean it?’
‘I do,’ said Katy.
I struggled for a moment with my conscience, before deciding – much to my relief! – that she was probably right.
‘Except that if it’s my duty,’ I said, ‘it has to be yours as well. After all, we’ve both sworn to help animals! I can’t do it all by myself.’
It was Katy’s turn to struggle.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘We’ll both carry on. Though I’m sure,’ she added, ‘it won’t just be horses we have to help. It’ll be dogs and cats and – and donkeys and—’
‘Hippopotamutheth!’ cried Benjy.
I said, ‘Yeah, right … hippopotamuses. We’re just as likely to bump into a hippopotamus in the middle of the road!’
Katy giggled. ‘What would you do if we did? If we just happened to be walking along, minding our own business, and suddenly found one standing there?’
Promptly I said, ‘Check to see if it had a collar!’
‘And what if it didn’t?’
‘Then I’d … I’d look on the computer and see if I could find a hippotamus sanctuary!’
‘Or maybe just ring a zoo?’ said Katy.
‘Well … yes.’ I said it rather reluctantly. It didn’t seem very imaginative. ‘I suppose we could just ring a zoo.’
‘So long as we did something.’
‘We’d always do something.’
‘I mean, you couldn’t just leave it in the middle of the road.’
I looked at her witheringly. ‘Animal Samaritans,’ I said, ‘do not leave hippopotamuses in the middle of roads.’
In the meantime we both agreed that it would be a relief, after all the hard work we’d put in, to have a bit of a break from constantly racking our brains how to rescue some poor ill-used animal that needed our help.
‘Let’s just hope,’ said Katy, ‘that we don’t find anything today.’
Especially not a hippopotamus.
Have you read …
Book 1
When new girl Caitlyn arrives at Coombe House School Maddy is sure she must be a fellow ballet dancer; she certainly has all the grace and poise of a ballerina. So when Caitlyn denies it, Maddy isn’t convinced. But it isn’t until she comes across Caitlyn practising ballet in the gym that she realises there must be more to her story … Just what can it be? Maddy is determined to find out!
Click on the cover to read more.
Book 2
Maddy is delighted when she and her friends are accepted to the prestigious City Ballet School – it feels like one step closer to their dream of becoming professional dancers. But the school brings a whole new set of challenges – and soon Maddy finds herself tested like never before.
Click on the cover to read more.
Book 3
A big performance looms and Maddy knows that the school has a way of weeding out the weakest dancers. Now is her time to shine. But will Maddy and her friends be celebrating at the end of the year?
Click on the cover to read m
ore.
Books by Jean Ure
BECKY BANANAS, THIS IS YOUR LIFE!
BOYS BEWARE
BOYS ON THE BRAIN
FAMILY FAN CLUB
FORTUNE COOKIE
FRUIT AND NUTCASE
ICE LOLLY
IS ANYBODY THERE?
JELLY BABY
JUST PEACHY
THE KISSING GAME
LEMONADE SKY
LOVE AND KISSES
OVER THE MOON
PASSION FLOWER
PUMPKIN PIE
THE SECRET LIFE OF SALLY TOMATO
SECRET MEETING
SECRETS AND DREAMS
SHRINKING VIOLET
SKINNY MELON AND ME
STAR CRAZY ME!
STRAWBERRY CRUSH
SUGAR AND SPICE
The Dance Trilogy in reading order
BORN TO DANCE
STAR QUALITY
SHOWTIME
Special three-in-one editions
THE FLOWER POWER COLLECTION
THE FRIENDS FOREVER COLLECTION
THE TUTTI-FRUTTI COLLECTION
And for younger readers
DAISY MAY
DAZZLING DANNY
MONSTER IN THE MIRROR
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