Plenty of Ponies, page 3
Tina was thinking about her career and wondering whether it would be a good plan to marry an M.F.H. and spend her life hunting; instead of worrying over the eternal problem of what she wanted to do. It was very irritating, she thought, that she was the only one of the family who had failed to decide on a career; the others had all made up their minds years ago; for as long as she could remember Lewis had meant to be a doctor. She thought of him, staid, solemn and serious, giving his weighty opinion slowly and with great thought. She could see Charlotte too, painting in an attic in Paris or drinking wine at cafés which had tables standing on the pavement, shaded from the sun by striped umbrellas. Paul she could see only as a midshipman, reckless and dashing in his naval uniform; you couldn't imagine him really grown-up. It was much easier to think of Julian as Poet Laureate and a grandfather, she thought. Lewis was trying to work out which way the wind was blowing and to remember whether huntsmen usually drew up or down wind. He thought that Paul was sure to know; he always did know that sort of thing, but then if one asked him he thought one a frightful fool for not knowing oneself.
“Hounds, please," shouted Colonel Howard, for the wood had been drawn blank and the hounds were coming out on the lane just where the field were standing. "Hounds, please," he shouted again, for the lane was still blocked with riders trying to get out of the way. The Esmonds were arguing. "How can I move when Frosty's running backwards?" demanded Charlotte. "I don't want Delight kicked, thank you."
“Use your legs, can't you?" said Lewis to Julian.
“And your stick," advised Paul.
"Why can't you go farther up the lane?" asked Julian crossly. "There's no need for you all to follow me. There isn't room for five people in this gateway anyhow."
“Get off my tail, Tina," said Lewis. "Do you want to be kicked?"
“Take your beastly horse away, Paul," said Charlotte. "I know he's going to kick Delight."
Charlotte was right: The Turk, exasperated at being squashed in the narrow gateway, suddenly kicked out, scattering the other Esmond ponies all over the lane, just as the hounds came by. October, unnerved at finding himself in the middle of them, leaped about wildly. Tina, her crash cap over her eyes, hung on to one of his plaits and said, "Whoa, October, whoa."
Lewis tried frantically to get Solomon back in the gateway, but Solomon said that the Turk was dangerous and refused to approach him. Charlotte had managed to turn Delight's quarters away from the hounds, but, as she was standing at the narrowest part of the lane, there was hardly room for the huntsmen to get by. Frosty stood in the middle of the lane and refused to move in any direction despite Julian's flapping legs and waving stick. When Colonel Howard saw the Esmonds in the middle of the hounds he gave a loud bellow. "What the devil do you think you're doing?" he shouted. "I told you to get out of the way. Move those ponies."
The Esmonds' efforts became even more frantic and somehow the hounds and hunt staff managed to squeeze past. Colonel Howard glared at the Esmonds with disfavour. "You're the worst-mannered lot of children it has ever been my misfortune to have out with these hounds," he said loudly as he rode on. The Esmonds, all very red in the face, waited at the side of the lane until the entire field had passed them. It seemed to Lewis that every one had heard Colonel Howard's scathing words and was gazing at them with scorn. He wished that he could hide, disappear; that he had never come on this disastrous hunt; that he was an efficient, practical person, a mine of information and hunting lore, who could tell his brothers and sisters where to stand so that they could see everything without being in the way. Charlotte thought that it had been a miserable day. Everything had gone wrong and Colonel Howard obviously hated the sight of them. She wished that it was time to go home. She thought of tea and a bath and tried to forget her present misery. Tina was trying frantically to prevent herself from crying. She thought that, no matter what the Master said to one, it would be a complete and utter disgrace to give way to tears in the hunting field.
“Come on," said Paul. “If we wait any longer we shall lose them completely.”
“Perhaps that would be a good thing," said Lewis in a depressed voice.
“I'm sure that it would please Colonel Howard,” said Charlotte.
“We'd better keep out of his sight for the rest of the day,” said Paul.
"I quite agree with you," said Lewis. “We don't want to be warned off, or whatever happens to you in the hunting field.”
“Let's trot,” said Julian. “Nearly every one's out of sight.”
The Esmonds were even more depressed and dreary as they rode home through the wet, grey dusk. They all had trickles of water running down inside their boots, sodden gloves and cold hands. To add to everything Julian had fallen off into a very muddy ditch during a short run at the end of the day, when, unfortunately, it had turned out that the hounds were hunting a fallow deer from a neighbouring park and they had had to be whipped off.
For a long time the Esmonds rode without speaking, each nursing his memories of the disastrous day. Charlotte broke the silence. “It's the second time in a week,” she said. “There must be something in it.”
“Second time in a week what?” asked Paul.
“That we've been called bad-mannered,” answered Charlotte, “and by quite reasonably sensible people too.”
"That's the worst of it," said Lewis. "It's all very depressing, I must say."
“We shall have to reform,” said Charlotte, "but I wish knew how.”
“I've read all our books on hunting manners,” said Paul, “but it isn't easy to do as they say if you can't stop your horse. I must go into Oxford and buy the Turk a martingale,” he went on. “That's what Howard said I was to ride him in.”
"I don't see how a standing martingale's going to improve your manners, though," said Lewis. "You'd look frightfully funny wearing one at lunch."
“Ha ha," said Paul scornfully. "Funny joke, I don't think.”
“Well, what are we going to do?” asked Charlotte. “We really can't go on like this; it's bad for my morale. This perpetual telling off is giving me an inferiority complex and one in the family is quite enough.”
“Who's got an inferiority complex?” asked Tina suspiciously.
“Extra," said Julian.
“No, I meant Lewis," said Charlotte.
“Nonsense," said Lewis, without much conviction.
“We shall have to find some good work,” said Charlotte. “Look how virtuous the Victorians were, they were always visiting the aged, the poor and the sick, so it might improve our characters.”
“I don't mind visiting the sick,” said Lewis.
“But they'd mind being visited by you,” said Paul. “And their doctors would have you struck off the Register or whatever it is, for interfering with their patients before you even got on it.”
“You can't be struck off something that you're not on," answered Lewis.
“How do you know?” asked Paul irritatingly.
“Must you behave as though you were still at a prep. school?” asked Lewis scathingly.
“For goodness' sake, shut up," said Charlotte. "If you two would co-operate instead of bickering we might arrange something."
“What's the good of arranging things,” said Lewis. “We're just thoroughly nasty characters and that's all there is to it.”
“Don't be such a defeatist,” said Charlotte. “If you tried you might improve.”
“Well, I'm much too cold even to think about improving at the moment," replied Lewis.
“So am I," said Julian. "Anyhow we're nearly there; I do hope Extra got home safely."
3
"I'll Get The Ladder"
No one was surprised when Mrs. Esmond's doctor said that she must go into a nursing home for a minor operation, because it had been talked of for some time. The annoying part was that the moment for the operation had to arrive in the middle of the Christmas holidays, but the doctor insisted that it must be done at once and so, as Mrs. Esmond said, there was no point in making a fuss. At first she said that the children must have some sensible person to stay in the house, in case they hit their heads falling off, or had appendicitis. However, Professor Esmond pointed out that he was quite reasonably sensible and would be at home every night and most of the weekends; Charlotte added that Francine and Maddo were both quite good in emergencies, and Lewis said that after all he was jolly nearly seventeen and Charlotte was fifteen and if they couldn't look after the others they weren't much use. Paul said that he didn't need looking after and that Lewis was much more fussy than their mother and would probably send for the doctor if one of his brothers or sisters so much as sneezed. Between them they managed to reassure Mrs. Esmond. Then they helped her to pack: Charlotte searched for suitable books for her mother, cheerful books to read in the beginning and gloomy books to read when she tired of the brisk, cheerful efficiency of the nurses. Lewis caught the bus into Oxford and bought her a supply of cheap editions of books which he hoped she hadn't read. Tina, sniffing miserably, got in every one's way. Paul was useful; he ran up and down stairs fetching things and sat on suitcases which had refused to shut. Julian lent his mother all his favourite ornaments, mostly china dogs and horses, and wrote a poem called “Departing,” which he wouldn’t let any one read.
No one ate much lunch and it was a quiet and depressed lot of children which waved good-bye to its parents from the end of the drive. It was very cold out and the ground was much too hard for riding, so they went into the house, which seemed empty except for gloomy forebodings. Now that Mrs. Esmond had gone, Tina gave way to the tears which had threatened all morning. She was inconsolable: Paul tried making jokes, Charlotte was bracing, Julian fetched all the dogs and Lewis explained the operation and pointed out how rarely people died from it. This made Tina cry more than ever, and Charlotte told Lewis that he had no imagination, and Paul said that he was a tactless fool. It was Julian who pointed out that Tanya, Mrs. Esmond’s Borzoi, was feeling miserable too and suggested that they should take the dogs for a walk. The dogs except for Sailor, their father’s old spaniel, who retired to his basket in the hall, were delighted. Extra squeaked, Sefton, Sailor’s son, who was golden, fetched the leads, even Tanya looked brighter, and Tina stopped crying. The walk was uneventful except that as usual they lost Sefton, but no one bothered because he knew all the walks and always arrived home about ten minutes after every one else. Tanya walked sedately at the children’s heels, with a worried expression on her face, and refused to join Extra who, yapping with excitement, rabbited wildly in brambles, bracken and hedgerows, but was never left behind.
In the evening, when Professor Esmond returned, everything seemed much brighter and the Esmonds became quite cheerful and collected the skates and boots from the cupboard under the stairs and cleaned them; for all the ponds in the district were frozen hard and even the ice on the river looked strong enough to bear their weight.
Julian had never skated before because the last winter had been a mild one and before that he had been thought too young to learn; but now, finding that Lewis, having outgrown his boots, was going to wear the professor’s and Paul was going to wear Lewis’s and Tina Paul’s, Julian said that he would wear Tina’s, though they were a little tight, and demanded that his brothers and sisters should teach him to skate. Unfortunately, he was not a very apt pupil and every one soon tired of teaching him. Paul said that he was a beastly nuisance, Lewis said that he knew that he, Lewis, was hopeless at teaching, Charlotte said that the only way to learn was to keep on falling down and getting up again until you stopped falling down, and Tina, who had very good balance, said that Julian was feeble and that she had learned to skate in half an hour.
Julian retired to a corner of Basset’s pond and tried to learn by himself. After two days he found that he could stand up and go along, but not always where he wanted. It was the day after they had heard that their mother had been successfully operated on that they decided to skate on the river. They had been grumbling about the pond all morning. Paul said that you couldn’t get up any speed on it, Lewis that it was dull, and Charlotte complained that it was unproductive, she wanted to skate “somewhere,” she said, “not just round and round.” So it was settled that after lunch they would try the river and see if it was safe.
Lewis insisted on trying the ice first. He skated gingerly across, listening carefully for creaks and groans, and then up the middle for a hundred yards or so, looking out for weak spots and finally inspected one or two places where the rushes grew. “It seems quite O.K.,” he said, skating back to the others, “but we’d better avoid the rushy places and keep in at the side as much as possible.”
“It’s as safe as houses,” shouted Paul, who was already skating up and down at full speed. “Do stop behaving like a broody hen, Lewis.”
“What about skating up to the lock?” suggested Charlotte.
“Do you think that Mrs. Mayfield sells ices in the winter?” asked Julian. Mrs. Mayfield was the lockkeeper’s wife.
“I shouldn’t think so,” said Lewis. “There’s no one to sell them to, and anyway people would say that it was too cold. Do hurry up,” he added, as Julian fumbled with his bootlaces.
“I can’t see why the weather should make any difference to the niceness of ice-creams,” said Julian thoughtfully.
“Oh, do stop talking and come on,” shrieked Tina from the river, “I’m icy.”
“My hands are too cold to tie these beastly laces,” answered Julian. “It’s all very well for you, you’re wearing two pairs of gloves.”
“Oh, do hurry up,” said Charlotte.
“Gosh, you’re slow,” said Lewis with a sigh.
“I’m starting,” shouted Paul, “he’ll have to catch up.”
“Oh, you are beasts,” said Julian crossly. “I do think that you might wait.” He tugged at his bootlace frantically and it promptly broke.
“Come with them untied, then,” suggested Charlotte.
“Don’t be silly,” said Lewis disagreeably. “How can he? You know he’d only sprain his ankle. I suppose I shall have to go back and help him. What a beastly nuisance younger brothers are,” he went on, “and it’s just like Paul to go tearing off and leave me to do the dirty work.” Feeling cross and cold, he skated back to where Julian was sitting on the bank and, tearing off his gloves, he hastily knotted and tied the bootlace. Then, pulling Julian to his feet, he said, “Now come on, for goodness sake. We’ve got to catch up with the others.” They caught up with Charlotte quite soon. She was skating slowly and zigzagging across the river waiting for them to appear. “At last,” she said, when she saw them, “I should think that the others are miles ahead.” But Paul and Tina were waiting round the next bend on a reach of river which they called the tunnel; there, in the summer the leafy branches of the trees on either bank met overhead, making a tunnel that was green and Julian, thinking of this, forgot he was skating, entangled his legs and fell with a crash just as Paul and Tina had started off again.
“For goodness sake, come on,” shouted Charlotte in an exasperated voice, when she saw what had happened, and then she and Lewis tore after the others. By the time Julian had struggled to his feet, every one was out of sight; he skated after them, wishing that they would wait; he felt no pleasure as he glided over the ice; he was only conscious of his cold hands, aching legs and the fact that he was tired.
Lewis had stopped feeling cross now that he was skating: he was enjoying the cold air on his face and the feeling of speed. He tried to catch up with Paul and Tina; he gained on them until they noticed what he was doing, and then they put on a spurt and left him behind again.
Suddenly Paul, who was in the lead, shouted. “Mind out,” he said, “weak spot on your left.”
“‘Ware weak spot,” shouted Charlotte. Lewis slowed up and looked round for Julian. He was a small black figure in the distance. Turning, Lewis skated back towards him until he was within shouting distance, then he yelled, “Look out! Weak spot on your left; keep over to the right.” He waved his arms and pointed. Julian shouted back, but his reply was inaudible. Oh, blast you, thought Lewis, have you heard or haven’t you? I’m fed up with waiting for you, he thought, and the others just go on gaily. He shouted “Keep over to the right” again and skated on. Suddenly there was a crack, a splintering of ice and a muffled cry of “Help.” Lewis tried to stop dead and sat down violently. Paul, Charlotte and Tina all heard the crack of ice and the cry for help and, turning, they skated back at full speed, flashing past Lewis with white, frightened faces as he struggled frantically to his feet. “Oh, my God,” he thought, “he’ll drown,” and he skated faster than he had ever skated before and caught up with the others just as they reached the horrid round hole in the ice from which Julian’s blue, terrified face looked out. He was clawing frantically at the rough, broken edge of the ice, which kept breaking away in his fingers. “Don’t go too near or you’ll go in,” shouted Paul. “I’ll get the ladder,” and in a second he had disappeared.
“Oh lord,” said Lewis, looking at the thin, cracked ice round Julian and wondering how to get him out.
“I can’t hold on much longer,” said Julian, through chattering teeth.
“You must hold on,” said Lewis. “You’re not to let go. Paul will be back in a minute.”
“We must be able to get to him,” said Charlotte, crawling cautiously across the ice towards Julian, but as she drew near to him the ice began to crack under her and the piece that Julian was holding on to gave way, plunging him under the icy water. For a horrid moment Lewis and Charlotte waited, holding their breath, for him to reappear. Tina was crying. At last he came up looking even more blue than before; clinging to the edge of the ice, he said, “I’m so cold, oh I’m so cold; is Paul coming?”
