by K. M. Peyton
‘The great day!’
‘Whoever did you borrow that lorry from?’
‘It’s Julia’s. Julia’s ma’s. Didn’t she tell you?’
‘Really?’
No, Sandy didn’t know that they were going to borrow the Marsden horsebox for the day. Surprise, surprise. (But she knew a few things none of the others knew.) She thought Julia might have told her, all the same.
‘I thought you knew,’ Julia said, when accosted. Sandy was in an accosting mood, very ratty.
‘Well, I didn’t.’
Sandy was glad she wasn’t riding, because she could see that Leo was petrified with fear, but at the same time she was deeply jealous of the others. It didn’t make sense. The conflict made her feel bad.
They weren’t riding until mid-afternoon, so they had plenty of time to get ready. While the grooming and gear-collecting was going on, Sandy went down the field to talk to Queen Moon. Every day she took her down a feed, because she was too thin, and talked to her. She thought the mare was pining, because she did not graze for long periods, but stood in the far corner of the field looking towards Riverhead as if she thought Jonas would appear. Sandy knew he wouldn’t. She felt much the same as Queen Moon and would stand with her arm round the mare’s neck, talking to her. It made her feel better, but whether it made any difference to Queen Moon she could not tell. But the mare nuzzled her in a friendly fashion: the offer of affection was not rejected.
‘Suppose he never comes back?’ the others asked. ‘Is she yours?’
‘Of course he’ll come back.’
Queen Moon could never be hers. She was a part of Jonas. Jonas had made her.
While Sandy was mooning down the field – they all called it ‘mooning’, her obsession with Queen Moon – Julia was grooming Faithful for the impending competition, still not quite sure what she thought about it. A quite large sliver of her was excited. Unlike the others, she wasn’t nervous. After her upbringing in highly competitive show-jumping, she saw that bashing across country was much easier (on Faithful at least) and more fun, and with no onus ‘to win’ , only get round, the afternoon looked promising. She realized that they were all depending on her as the anchor-man, the only one who wasn’t frightened of getting carted. Polly was the leader: she had worked out the tactics – as far as possible – but several times she had deferred to Julia, suggesting she might set the pace, or take the lead in the tricky places, always respectful of her ability. It made Julia feel really good. Her mother had always taken her ability for granted. Julia had rarely been praised: she was expected to win. That was the norm – taken for granted. Anything less and she had been reviled. After the whole winter with Faithful, Julia realized that she was getting her nerve back, and her enthusiasm, for so long stifled by fear, was gradually returning. It made her feel good, and more friendly than usual. This team business was interesting – quite different from bombing on to win on one’s own. It was impossible to be a ‘loner’ under the circumstances.
When she led Faithful out to box her, Polly grimaced and said, ‘She does look small beside the others. I bet there’ll be an objection from someone or other.’
‘Only if we win,’ said Leo. ‘And we won’t.’
Leo was thinking her whole family could live in this horsebox – the living quarters were nearly as big as their sitting-room at home. It had a cooker, a fridge, a sink, a bar and a shower unit. And there was still room for four horses. They piled in their tack, their sweat-rugs, haynets, water buckets, hats, jerseys, grooming-boxes, sandwiches, schedules . . .
‘I’ve left my leather jacket in the tackroom,’ Tony remarked, as they were setting off up the lane. ‘I hope that burglar’s not in business this afternoon.’
‘That’s when we lost the saddles – when we were all out that night,’ Polly said.
‘You should go back for it,’ Leo said.
‘We’re running a bit late,’ Polly said.
‘It won’t get stolen,’ Sandy said. ‘It’s all finished now.’
Leo shot her a very strange look, but did not say anything, and Sandy realized she had spoken tactlessly.
‘Everyone else is at home,’ she added quickly. ‘Nobody’s going to come in broad daylight.’
Tony drove as if he had been a long-distance lorry driver all his life, and they arrived at Aspen Farm in good order. It was a perfect spring day, sunny but with a keen wind, no sign of rain, and the horseboxes were lined up in droves. The familiar smell of hot dogs floated across the field; sweaty horses were coming back up the hill, heads down, riders laughing and breathless, and others, cool and keen, were being led out ready to go, their riders tying on numbers. Ladies in green quilted jackets with golden retrievers on leads chatted with tweeded men who raised their caps politely, and the Young Farmers were bulging out of the beer tent as usual. It was a scene perfectly familiar to Polly and Sandy and Julia, but it made Leo feel sick, and Tony was rather quiet.
Polly said to him softly, ‘You’ve got the best horse of the lot. Don’t be put off.’
At last, Sandy thought, he realizes he’s not much of a rider. But she felt sympathetic towards him. He really had improved since knowing them. The only one without a horse, Sandy was the fetcher and carrier: ‘Hold this, hold that. What’s the time? Where’s the hoofpick? Get our numbers, there’s a darling.’ Julia and Polly knew the drill, but Tony had to be helped, and Leo was in a panic. It was all confusion. While they were working against the clock, their various parents came to visit – Tony’s mother looking as if she expected to lead in the Gold Cup winner at Cheltenham; Julia’s tight-lipped and critical – ‘We’ve given up a day’s jumping for you to do this, Julia. I hope it will be worth it.’
‘I never asked you to,’ Julia said.
‘I’m curious to see what you do with your time, that’s all.’
Sandy, watching, thought what rotten luck they both had with their mothers. Leo’s boffin pair were not there. They didn’t approve of blood-sports. Leo had told them it wasn’t bloodsports and they said, ‘What are you chasing then?’ Leo was relieved to be panicking in private. ‘God, Sandy, I’m petrified!’
‘Once you start, you’ll be fine,’ Sandy said briskly, hoping it was true. More petrified, probably. But Leo needed stiffening. Polly gave her something out of a bottle. Somehow they all got mounted and numbered and down the hill in the direction of the start.
King of the Fireworks went as if he had seen it all before, as no doubt he had – interested and alert, but calm. Charlie’s Flying knew what he had to do and couldn’t wait, fighting and charging about like a naughty pony. Polly had got him very cheap for quite obvious reasons. Empress of China was looking very surprised and slightly suspicious, not quite sure if she was on a racecourse again, and Faithful was living up to her name: willing and obedient and perfect.
There was a place in the middle of the course from where one could see most of the action apart from what went on in the wood, and Sandy had decided to go up there. It was at the top of the long grass field out of the wood, near the pen, and at the back of her mind she thought she might be useful if any of them couldn’t stop – exactly how, she hadn’t decided. Running down the field waving her arms probably wouldn’t result in anything more than getting run down. But it was a gesture. As she turned to make her way in that direction she saw Ian on his mountain bike, cycling towards her. She was amazed.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I thought it might be a laugh.’
‘You could have come in the horsebox.’
‘I didn’t want to come that badly,’ he said rudely.
Sandy wondered if he still liked Julia. Perhaps that was why he had come.
‘They’re up by the start. There’s three to go before them. I was going to watch by that tree.’
‘OK.’ He got off and pushed his bike beside her.
‘Why aren’t you in the team?’
‘Leo’s better than me.’
When they were together,
doing something, not just moping round the house, they seemed to get on quite well. Sandy remembered good days making camps and fishing and showing the farm dog in a dog show and going to a football match, when they had once got on like good mates. Now, after his initial rudeness, Ian seemed quite human and interested and made her think of those times. If only he was always . . . Oh, why couldn’t she talk to him! What good was a brother like Ian? Suddenly breathless, heart thumping, she said, ‘The burglar came again last week – in the night. Did Mum tell you?’
He turned to her sharply. She saw quite suddenly that he wasn’t a boy any longer, but had a man’s face. He looked quite different.
‘Did you see him?’
‘No. But I know who it is.’
He did not reply. They walked together across the tussocky grass and watched a team coming up the field towards them, hell for leather, the riders shouting to each other. They detoured, and gained the safety of the hedgerow. The team milled round the pen, getting in each other’s way. One member was still only just coming out of the wood, and the first horse jumped out before the last came in through the slip-rail. He had to come round and go in again. They were all shouting and screaming at each other. Sandy, watching, waited for Ian to say something, but he didn’t. They got to the hedgerow and stood under an oak tree. Ian leaned his bike against it.
‘Do you know who it is?’ Sandy persisted.
‘I’ve got a good idea.’
‘Who?’
He didn’t reply. He looked at her with eyes which were exactly the same as Josie’s – very cool.
‘It’s Glynn,’ Sandy said. She waited. ‘Is that who you thought?’ she persisted.
He nodded.
‘Mum knows, but she won’t do anything about it. She’s got to!’
‘Why?’
‘He came again three nights ago, to pinch your bike. I screamed and he ran away. I told Mum and she says don’t tell anybody, not even Dad. She went down to see him, I think.’
She could see that Ian was jolted by nearly losing his bike.
‘I wouldn’t have thought he’d take my bike!’
‘It’s no worse than the saddles. How can Mum not say?’
‘Mum’s in a state.’
‘I know.’ But so am I, Sandy wanted to say. ‘She’s acting in a funny way. I think Dad ought to know. He’s got to know sooner or later. Will you tell him?’
‘But if Glynn doesn’t do it any more, if Mum’s spoken to him, it could be finished now. He isn’t that stupid, is he?’
‘Fairly, I think, to keep doing it on his own doorstep. The trouble is, if people don’t know, they might think it could be – well, Duncan, or – or Jonas – or—’ She nearly said ‘you’, but didn’t.
‘But if it’s finished, people forget.’
Ian looked a bit saggy, like his mother. He said, ‘It’s – it’s Josie who worries me, really. I’ve kept out of it, kept my head down. After the saddles went, Glynn had a roll of notes and Josie was surprised. I noticed. She said, “Wherever did you get that from?” and he said he’d done a job, but he was worried, I could see. Because I was there. It just struck me, he looked really scared. He changed the subject very quickly. Josie said, “I didn’t know the jobs you did were so well paid!” It made her happy, she made jokes about it, and he got cross suddenly and told her not to be so – well, he swore at her. I was embarrassed. It was then that I thought – well – it struck me. It was horrible.’
‘What, after the saddles went . . . you’ve known ages?’
‘Not known. Just wondered.’
‘I thought it was Duncan. Because I found his penknife in Gertie’s drive.’
‘Duncan!’
‘Yes. That’s what I mean. When you don’t know, you suspect all sorts of people.’
‘Well, if Mum’s had a go at Glynn . . . he won’t do it again, surely? He wouldn’t be so daft.’
‘You want to keep quiet, like Mum?’
‘I’d rather, yes. Because of Josie. But it’s – it’s—’ He swore. He looked quite different from the usual closed-up Ian. He looked human and concerned. Sandy suddenly saw that he might turn out quite nice in the end.
‘Will you talk to Mum about it? Please!’ Sandy blurted out. It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t all her responsibility. It was much better already, talking about it. ‘I can’t bear thinking about it all by myself, and Mum being so – so odd.’ Unmotherish.
‘Would it help?’
‘It would help me! I think it would help her too, if we all talked about it – Dad as well. She’s trying to keep it secret and it’s killing her.’
Just at this vital stage of the conversation she saw that the Drakesend team was about to start. Charlie’s Flying seemed to be wanting to go the wrong way, but as far as Sandy could judge, Polly was shouting to the others to set off, in the hope that he would then decide to join his friends. Julia obliged by setting off for the first jump at a brisk pace, and King of the Fireworks lobbed after her, followed by a rather hesitant Empress of China.
Sandy’s domestic problems were forgotten instantly. She was as one with Leo approaching the first tiger-trap over the ditch, feeling the old mare’s surprise and lack of enthusiasm. Far from wanting to bolt, she wanted to go back to the horsebox. Polly was miles behind, but at least now had Charlie’s Flying facing in the right direction. Seeing his departing friends, he shot forward like a bullet.
King of the Fireworks’ long stride brought him up level with Faithful, and the large horse and the pony jumped side by side, in textbook fashion. Not so textbook behind them, Empress of China refused, switching round sideways and presenting herself side on to fast-approaching Charlie’s Flying. Too late to pull up, he crashed into the Empress, knocking her half into the ditch. Leo and Polly clashed knees painfully, but neither fell off and both emerged from the fracas none the worse for wear, pointing back towards the start. Polly made a fair-sized circle, shouting, ‘Keep close behind me!’ and pointed Charlie at the jump again. He flew it and this time the Empress made a grudging leap in pursuit and they both landed safely on the other side.
Julia had trotted up the long field to allow the pair behind to catch up, and King of the Fireworks had kept with her, but with the advent of wild Charlie and a rejuvenated Empress, the two in front speeded up. King of the Fireworks reached out, lengthening his stride, and went straight past little Faithful, even though she was now galloping. Polly had got Charlie back in control, and they approached the well-named coffin spread out in a line. Tony hadn’t the experience to steady his horse for the jump, but clever Fireworks knew exactly what was wanted and went through the complex like a cat. Three jumps, one after the other, and Tony by the end had lost his stirrups, his reins and his cool, and disappeared into the trees with a cry of despair. Faithful followed, and Polly, having wrestled Charlie almost to a halt, managed to get a very neat performance at the jump. The Empress, obviously afraid to be left on her own, flew after him.
‘Tony’s going to fall off!’ Sandy moaned.
He wasn’t meant to be in front through the wood. Anything could happen in there.
‘That horse of Polly’s is a maniac,’ Ian remarked, truly.
‘At least she can ride – not like Tony!’
They waited for what seemed eternity for the team to reappear. At least no signals were sent for the ambulance, which remained somnolent up by the start. At last there was a flash of movement and the lean chestnut shape of Empress of China shot out of the trees, up the bank and into the field and set off hell for leather for home before any of the others had even appeared.
‘Leo!’ Sandy wailed.
This was where one had to jump, turn and neatly jump back into the wood. The Empress didn’t know about this, only that she didn’t like woods and wanted to go home. As she approached at a flat gallop the spot where Sandy and Ian were standing, Sandy could see Leo hauling with all her strength on the hard old mouth to get the mare to circle back. As there was a thick hedge ahead of he
r, she was partially successful. Sandy saw Leo’s face, white as a sheet, blur past. Ian was laughing his head off.
‘Is this competition serious?’ he asked.
Sandy did not deign to reply. It was deadly serious for Leo, she reckoned. But Leo’s panic had produced the strength to haul the old mare back on course, and as she found herself alone again, with nowhere to go, she slowed down, dropping back into a trot. Finding herself alone, she let out a resounding whinny. Leo turned her round and at the bottom of the long field she saw her three friends waiting for her, having emerged one by one out of the wood. As far as Sandy could see, they were all in one piece – even Tony.
Neighing in a highly unprofessional manner, the chestnut mare cantered back to the team, and Julia, at a shout from Polly, turned Faithful to jump back into the wood again. This she did very neatly, followed by the other two. Empress of China, directed towards the jump, remembered that she didn’t like woods, lost impulsion and refused. Leo had thought she would jump and shot up round the mare’s ears, but luckily the old girl didn’t put her head down and Leo was able to push herself back into the saddle. She circled again and, legs crashing wildly against the mare’s sides, she persuaded her to take a poky cat-leap over the bar into the wood. It looked anything but fluent and heart-lifting, but it got her to the other side where the others were apparently waiting, for none of them had appeared yet out of the wood for the second time.
In retrospect, it might have helped if they had carried on and come out of the wood and up the big field to the pen one by one, rather than in a bunch. Having been held up, the other three horses were now all eager to get on with it. They jumped out on each others’ heels, Faithful leading, and Empress of China, last, jumped this time with such abandon she landed alongside Charlie’s Flying. This obviously stirred her old racing instincts for she immediately went away at a gallop none of them knew was in her, outstripping even the long-striding King of the Fireworks. For the second time she streaked up the field towards Sandy and Ian, putting lengths between herself and the rest of the team.
Sandy groaned and shut her eyes, feeling Leo’s panic flaring in her own breast. And to think she had wanted the ride herself! Leo had no option but to try and circle again. Tony was trying hard not to follow her on King of the Fireworks, but without success. Faithful went neatly and obediently into the pen, and Polly managed to get Charlie in as well, and there they had to wait while the other two members of their team careered round the countryside, trying to regain control. Sandy thought the Empress was likely to drop dead as she was by now lathered with sweat – who would tell Uncle Arthur?
