All that Glitters, page 7
somehow I think it is. Big, I mean. Jake is convinced. It’s driving
him nuts.’
‘He’s fairly nuts anyway.’
They nudged the ponies on, out of the river and round the side
of the stockyard to take them in. Later they would turn them out
to join Amy’s sweet chestnut, which seemed to get very little work
from his owner. The Greenbaum ponies had been taken away and were no longer to be seen in the field, having done as little work as Amy’s Welsh cob Goldie the last year. Tummy and Bummy were
now said to be concentrating on ballet.
As they arrived at the yard entrance Amy came prancing out on
Red Sky.
‘Hey, what are you doing?’
‘What does it look like?’She held the mare in firmly, for the
change of routine had excited Red Sky. She was charged up, powered by the adrenalin flowing through her rider. Imogen called
riders like Amy ‘electric bottoms’. Anything they rode came to life.
‘If you sit like a suet pudding,’ Imogen said, ‘the horse goes all
dozy. If your horse feels like bolting, think suet pudding.’ But
Millie had never sat on a horse that felt like bolting and did not
envy Amy now. She was aghast on Polly’s account.
‘You mustn’t! Polly will kill you!’
‘She won’t see, stupid.’
‘It’s not fair, Amy,’ Imogen shouted, but Amy had let Red Sky
go and was already out of earshot. .
The two girls sat watching, shocked. Polly never galloped Red
Sky. Her fastest pace on the mare was a collected canter. But now
the mare went like the true thoroughbred she was, her polished
training thrown to the winds as she took the bit between her teeth
and tore across the water meadows. She looked fantastic. The
chestnut cob threw up his head and charged after her, kicking out
behind with enormous bucks. Even Barney and Bluebell were
infected by the excitement and started churning round in the gateway while their riders sat staring in horror.
‘Polly would have a fit!’
But then admiration and envy triumphed in the girls’ heads over
indignation on Polly’s behalf. They started to laugh, thrilled by the
beauty of the flying mare. If only they had the same courage as the
wild girl Amy! What must it feel like? Their ponies’ fastest pace
barely raised the dust.
‘Wow, I wish that was me!’ Imogen said.
‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘No, I wouldn’t.’
By the time the mare had settled after several circuits of the
meadows, Amy cantered back and shouted, ‘Great, isn’t she? I’m
going for a ride.’ With which she went past, splashed through the
ford, and disappeared up into the woods at a spanking trot. Millie
was just in time to shut the gate on the other ponies which were
only too anxious to follow.
‘She’s crazy! Polly’ll go mad.’
‘She won’t know, will she? Unless we tell her. And we’re not that
sneaky.’
‘No, we won’t. But it’s wrong. It’s not fair on Polly.’ They untacked their ponies, rubbed them down and turned them
out for the night with the others. The first excitement over, they
were now anxious for Red Sky’s safe return, worried about the
repercussions.
‘Even if we don’t tell Polly, which we won’t, I bet she knows the
next time she rides her that something has happened.’ ‘If Amy comes back, that is.’
They waited. They rang their parents to say they would be late,
but as dusk closed in they became more and more anxious. If Amy
had come off, the mare could be anywhere. They would have to
ring Polly then. But eventually they heard the clatter of hooves in
the yard and there was Amy dismounting, sliding down from a
sweat-covered, mud-splattered, manic mare which, exhausted as it
was, found it impossible to stand still.
‘You can’t put her back in the stable like that!’
Even Amy had the sense to agree. She was as exhausted as the
mare, but lit by a glee the girls had never seen before. Not the
grumpy, rude, disagreeable Amy, but an excited, happy, exuberant
friend, trying to tell them how marvellous it had been. Having
waited, worried for so long, and now smitten with envy, they did
not take to this new Amy kindly, but told her severely to walk the
mare around until the sweat dried and try to get her settled. She would need a thorough grooming if Polly was to be deceived, and they didn’t feel like helping Amy with that, given the mare’s vicious
habits in the stable.
They left her with the job, feeling mean, which made them both
cross. Their evening had been lovely until Amy had appeared on
Red Sky.
‘She needs a challenge. A bad pony, as crazy as she is.’ ‘No one will care if she kills herself.’
That was the worst of it. No one was bothering where Amy was
now. They both went home feeling disturbed and unhappy with
their thoughts.
Millie’s mother insisted on knowing what she had been up to,
and Millie told her what had happened, very reluctantly. ‘Don’t tell Polly. Please. If she knows how her mare was treated—’ ‘It’s not the horse I’m thinking of. It’s the poor child. No one
cares what she gets up to as long as she’s out of the house. It’s something that she’s got you two for friends.’
‘She’s not our friend. We hate her. She’s horrid.’
‘Well, just count yourselves lucky …’
There was no answer to it. But Millie had a sneaking admiration
for Amy and remembered how her face had been alight with a joy
never seen before. It showed she was capable of something more
than her usual grudging denigration of everything that came
her way.
Chapter 8
Amy, fired up by her experience, remembered a thrown-away phrase of Imogen’s, something about selling her pony and buying something that suited her better. She knew she was being unfair to Goldie her perfect pony, but she hated his perfection: he gave her no challenge. Not like Red Sky – that ride had been brilliant! Just thinking about it stirred her blood: being on the edge of catastrophe, barely in control, feeling the mare’s wild heart beating in tune with her own. If she had an animal like that …
Well, no one would buy her a thoroughbred even if she sold Goldie for a good price. And perhaps anyway not all thoroughbreds were tearaways. She just wanted a challenge, something perhaps that nobody else could cope with. And a picture came into her head, remembering her sour days at the Equestrian Centre: a black gelding shut away in a distant box, the noise of his hooves banging on the door, Emma swearing at him … his owner paid her bills but never came near nor by. She couldn’t ride him and nor could anyone else.
Amy’s eyes started to gleam. What a brilliant idea! The horse was called Dragon, she remembered. Surely there was a deal to be done there? Unless the horse had gone by now? The idea filled her with excitement. No one could say Dragon was boring. That was the sort of horse she wanted.
She decided to go and find out if he was still there. It was some time since she had been back but she knew the routine would be much the same. Most of the horses had been ridden and put away for the night by ten o’clock and Emma went to bed shortly after. Amy knew how to get in round the back where there was no security and decided to go when with luck the place would be deserted. Her mother could be fobbed off with any excuse – ‘Staying late at Rachel’s’ or something similar. She had fallen out with Rachel months ago but her mother didn’t know that. Her mother didn’t care anyway, obsessed with keeping her new boyfriend happy. Amy mooched around the village for an hour or two, throwing stones into the river from the bridge and buying chips, kicking a Coke tin down the high street and mucking about with a few stupid boys outside the pub, then sneaking off to the Equestrian Centre when it got dark.
It was, unlike Miss Brocklebank’s, an imposing stable yard set amongst beautifully fenced paddocks, its impressive floodlit arena flanking the drive. Emma’s bungalow was set apart, luckily, in a copse of trees, and there was no sign of her awful yapping terriers which meant she was off the territory. All was peace and quiet. A light was on in the tack room and two girls were drinking coffee in there but they did not see her as she walked through the yard. A few heads were looking out over the bottom doors and one horse whickered softly, but mostly the occupants were munching their hay and dozing. Behind the main yard was a smaller much less impressive yard for ponies and children where Dragon used to be. Was he still there? He had had a notice with his name on beside the door and a chalked addition ‘Danger. Keep Off.’ Amy thought, no worse than Red Sky, who had bitten her twice, painfully, the night she had tried to clean her down after her magnificent ride.
She had brought a torch with her and now shone it on the stable. Yes, the notice was still there. She went to the open top door and shone the torch inside. Dragon was not vicious like Red Sky, only very nervous and unpredictable, and she did not expect to be attacked. She heard him give a snort of surprise and saw him swing round from his manger. His eyes in the torch’s beam gleamed red like a cat’s eyes in a car’s headlights and he stood staring at her with his head up as if prepared for flight, looking every bit as challenging as she remembered.
Oh, but he was gorgeous! Her heart gave a great bound. Of course he was the horse for her! He was, she knew, a Friesian cross; Friesians being the black horses used for pulling hearses. But not for him the sedate pulling of a hearse; the body would be flung to the four winds if he was asked to do such a job! He stood about fifteen hands, bigger than Goldie (perhaps she could say she had outgrown Goldie and needed something bigger?), and was rather leggy, with a high head carriage and a long flowing mane. He had no white on him, and had long ears and large, wild eyes, just as she remembered. His black coat gleamed in the torchlight. Was he still neglected, Amy wondered. He didn’t look it. Perhaps someone else had bought him? The two girls in the tack room might know.
She switched off the torch and hurried back. The horse let out a deafening neigh after her, loud enough to bring Emma out of bed if she was unlucky, but Amy took it as an omen: he wanted her! The light was still on. Amy went in and the two girls started round in surprise.
‘Hey, what are you doing in here?’
One of them knew her, and was none too friendly. ‘Just visiting.’
‘You’d better not let Emma find you here.’
‘I don’t want to see Emma. I just want to get in touch with the
person who owns Dragon. I want to buy him.’
‘You must be mad!’
‘Do you know where she lives?’
‘She’s never around. She’s not do-it-yourself. He’s full livery.
Emma just puts him out in the field sometimes so he doesn’t kick his stable down. Everyone hates him.’
‘Well, I’d do a straight swap with Goldie, if I can find her.’
‘Goldie’s worth tons more than Dragon. You must be daft! But his owner’s in the book, if you look.’
Of course! She had forgotten. There was a book in the tack room with all the owners’ addresses and telephone numbers in case of emergencies. They were filed alphabetically under the horse’s name, so she found it quite quickly under Dragon. The owner was local. Amy tapped in the number on her mobile.
‘You’re ringing her now? She’s probably in bed and asleep.’
Time meant nothing to Amy.
‘She’ll think someone’s died.’
Certainly the voice that answered sounded anxious. ‘Yes, who is it?’
‘I’m Amy Grimm and I want to buy your horse Dragon. How much do you want for him?’
‘Er – what? Who?’
It took the woman some time to come to her senses, and then she obviously found the offer unbelievable.
‘Are you joking or something? You want to buy him?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve been trying to get rid of him for years and no one will have him.’
‘Well, I will. At least, I’ll give you my pony Goldie in exchange and he’s worth a lot of money.’
‘But I don’t want another horse.’
‘But he’s instead of money.’
‘I’ll have to ask Emma.’
‘No. Don’t ask Emma!’
Amy could see that it was going to be more difficult that she had foreseen.
Emma would contact her parents and once the adults were in there wasn’t a hope of her getting hold of the likes of Dragon. Although it seemed to her that none of them cared if she lived or died, when it came to the point she knew they would try to look after her.
‘Can I come and see you and talk about it?’
‘Yes, that would be best, I suppose.’
‘Now?’
‘What, now? I’m in bed.’
‘Do you want to sell him or not?’
‘Yes, I’m desperate to sell him. He’s costing me a fortune.’
‘I’ll come now then.’
She rang off. The woman’s address was not very far off, in fact quite close to where she lived. The two girls were laughing their heads off.
‘Some way to do a deal! You’re crazy.’
‘Don’t tell Emma.’
She realized she had been really stupid to let these girls know what she was intending to do. They were bound to tell Emma in the morning. The gossip round the yard was always flagrant and everyone would know about her idiotic deal in no time.
It was no good telling them to keep quiet about it. To put them off she pretended she had changed her mind.
‘I suppose it is a bit stupid. I’ll go home and sleep on it.’
What a slip up, she thought as she left the yard. She was tempted to take Dragon there and then and gallop away, but common sense – as much as she possessed, which was very little
– prevailed. Her mobile said it was ten past eleven. She hurried to the address she had memorised, a boring modern semi much the same as the one she lived in with her mother, and rang the bell. It was opened by a nervous looking woman in a dressinggown, sort of twentyish Amy guessed, or even thirtyish, for she had worry lines on her forehead and frumpy hair.
‘Oh, but you’re a child!’ she exclaimed.
‘Yes, but I have my parents’ permission to buy Dragon, if you’ll sell him,’ Amy lied. ‘They have offered you Goldie in exchange.’
‘I don’t want another horse though.’
‘No, but if you take Goldie, Emma will sell him for you for lots of money. How much do you want for Dragon?’
‘Well, I asked for five hundred but still no one would have him.’
‘Then you would make an enormous profit, if we do a straight swap.’
This seemed to cheer her up, smoothing out a few of her worry lines.
‘Perhaps you had better come in.’
‘It’s rather late. You’ve only to say yes or no.’
‘It seems very – sort of, er, odd—’
‘But you do want to get rid of him? I’ll take him. It’s simple.’ ‘I ought to deal with your parents, surely?’
‘No. They don’t care about it. Do what you like, they said.’ ‘Well …’
Amy could see she was winning. She felt herself beginning to tremble with excitement at the prospect before her. Take Dragon now, in the night, and the deed would be done.
‘Can I have his saddle and bridle?’ Goldie’s saddle would never fit him.
‘Yes, the tack is here in the house.’
Fantastic! Having bludgeoned the poor woman into agreement Amy left the house before she could have second thoughts. The saddle was heavy but felt light as thistledown to Amy as she ran back down the road towards the Equestrian Centre. Surely the two in the tack room would be gone by now?
Yes. Now to try to take Dragon silently. To be caught would be disaster. She knew the way out of the back, away from the intruder lights. The back field let out on to a bridleway which skirted the back of the village and went up the hill to the big house that looked down on the river and Miss Brocklebank’s. Very convenient. She opened the gate, ready, then went back across the field into the yard where Dragon’s head could be seen, dark against dark, looking out over his door. Everything was quiet, not a sound.
She went up and talked softly to the horse, stroking his neck. He was kind enough, licking her hand, lipping at the buttons on her jacket. She hoisted the saddle on the half door and gently drew back the bolt. Dragon backed away and she went with him, still talking softly, slipping the bridle reins over his neck. If he hadn’t been ridden for so long she was afraid tacking up would be difficult, but he accepted the bit in his mouth without demur. It was a simple snaffle, not even a noseband, so there was only the throatlash to buckle and no problem. She lifted up the saddle and slid it as gently as possible on to his back, talking to him all the time. Quiet as he was, she could feel the tension in him, feel the trembling of his withers. She fastened the girth, but only loosely, knowing that a lot of horses objected to the first tightening, and then stood talking softly to him for some time, stroking his neck, scratching behind his ear. He liked it, she could tell. So far she had been lucky beyond belief. If only her luck was going to hold … The repercussions later would be terrible: she already knew that. But with the deed done, hopefully, they would have a job to undo it. Don’t think of Polly, she told herself. The two daft girls, Millie and Imogen, might stick up for her. But Amy had never counted on friends, seeing as she had had very few.
‘I’m going to have you, Dragon, my friend. You haven’t got any friends. We must stick together.’
She led him out of his box and he came quietly. She took him through the gate and into the field where, feeling the grass beneath his feet and finding freedom at last from his claustrophobic stable, he started to dance and jiggle and pull hard against her hands. She wanted to mount, but couldn’t. Her luck was running out.
