by Amy Brown
Contents
Cover
1 The Baby-sitter Called Death
2 Bitless and Treeless
3 Pony Club Hunt
4 Holiday with the Deaths
5 Something Nasty in the Attic
6 Mr Death’s Secret
7 Swinophobia
8 The Morning of the Meet
9 The Blooding
10 The Truth About Zoe
How to Groom a Pony
About the Author
Other Books in The Pony Tales Series
Copyright
The Baby-sitter Called Death
First she had tried to open the gate. Jade had managed to walk Taniwha up to the latch, hold her reins and whip in one hand, and reach down with the other. But every time she leaned towards the gate, Tani would scoot backwards, flicking his nose in the air and pulling the reins out of her grasp. It must have been her third or fourth attempt at getting the pony to halt when the pukeko flew out of the drain by the fence line. Was that how it had happened? It wasn’t just bad-tempered impatience that had made Taniwha rear; Jade was sure she’d seen a pukeko.
Luckily she hadn’t managed to open the gate: Jade reckoned the freedom of the orchards would have been too much for her new pony. Even with the others in the yards — friendly old Pip, who had welcomed the young monster more amiably than he deserved, and Mr White’s two big bays — Taniwha would have made a run for it.
Jade wondered if it was like living in an old persons’ home for Tani. She was the only one anywhere near her pony’s age, and he didn’t seem to like her. ‘You’re beautiful, Tani,’ Jade had told him, ignoring the whites of his eyes as she gathered up her reins, ready to mount. ‘I’m not scared of you, silly old sea monster.’
If only she had waited for Mr White to get home from the hardware store; he would have opened the gate for her. No, he would have reminded her that even if Taniwha seemed co-operative and placid in the home paddock, it could be a different story away from the other horses. ‘You must be patient, Jade,’ he had told her. ‘I don’t care if Tani seems bored.’
That familiar rapid moment, when you wish you could change your last few actions but know that a fall is inevitable: that was a step back. The green, surprisingly hard, ground zooming towards you at an angle, and that unnerving view of your pony’s stomach as he canters over you: more steps back. The worst step back, as Jade remembered it, was closing her eyes instead of getting up straight away. She was woken by Mrs White’s yell, and then felt the silver-haired lady’s warm hand rubbing her back.
‘How did he get in the yard?’ Jade asked later, seeing Taniwha untacked and nosing at a small pile of hay. Were they in the car then, on the way to A&E?
‘Jim’s home now, love. He’s seen to Tani.’
‘Sorry I rode when you weren’t home. Is Mr White angry?’
‘I was in at the computer. I wish you’d told me you were riding; I could have come out and kept an eye on you. How long were you lying blacked out in the paddock? The doctor’s going to want to know.’ This was as exasperated as Jade had ever seen Mr White’s wife.
‘You OK, Jade?’ Zoe Death asked. ‘Not blacking out on me?’
‘No, just trying to remember again.’ Jade stared at the fourteen-year-old girl in the rocking chair, who had insisted on watching Shortland Street, and did her best to think of Zoe as a ‘companion’. That’s what her dad had suggested when Jade had fumed over the prospect of a baby-sitter who was only two years older than herself. However, she knew that it was because of her concussion rather than her age that her dad had arranged this ‘companion’ — although that didn’t stop Jade calling her ‘the baby-sitter called Death’.
That miserable Monday night, it felt as if everyone had left Flaxton. Jade’s dad had been forced to follow a story in Palmerston North, her granddad was in Tauranga at his cousin’s funeral, her friend Laura’s whole family had driven to Auckland for a wedding, and the Whites were in Wellington at their daughter Abby’s graduation ceremony. Becca was still here, but her family was bedridden with what might have been flu.
‘Jade, you know I’d stay if I could,’ her dad had said. ‘But I can’t miss the end of the trial. The paper has to cover it.’
‘I know. And I’ll be fine on my own. I mean, I can monitor myself, and I’ll have the doctor’s number nearby all the time.’
‘You can monitor yourself? Honestly, Jade!’ Her dad rolled his eyes. ‘I do have a solution, though, which I think you’ll be pretty happy with.’
‘Really?’
‘I rang Joelene at work, to see if she knew of anyone who could baby-sit at short notice.’
‘Baby-sit! A baby-sitter?’
‘Hear me out. Joelene’s niece, Zoe Death, is home from boarding school. She’s fourteen and she rides!’
‘Zoe what?’
‘Death,’ Jade’s dad said, splitting the word into two syllables and rhyming the second one with ‘path’.
‘How’s that spelt?’
‘Yes, it is spelt the same way as “death”, Jade. But don’t go all superstitious on me. Did you hear me say that she rides?’
‘Yeah, and that she is fourteen. I can’t have a baby-sitter who’s only two years older than me, Dad! It’s embarrassing.’
‘She isn’t a baby-sitter, she’s a companion for a girl who’s had a concussion in the last forty-eight hours and needs monitoring.’
‘A “companion”,’ Jade groaned.
‘I’ve done my best at very short notice. Please don’t cause a fuss.’ Her dad’s patience was waning. Jade noticed that a button was missing from his shirt, and a crop of salt-and-pepper stubble hadn’t been shaved from his cheeks and chin that morning. She could have said, ‘Well, if Mum were here I wouldn’t need a baby-sitter.’ She considered it briefly, but was shocked at herself. No, I won’t make a fuss, Jade decided, her sulk vanishing.
It wasn’t easy for Dad, looking after her on his own. Sometimes it wasn’t easy looking after Dad on her own, Jade thought; but they needed each other, they needed to be good to each other. I don’t want to play Dad up like Taniwha’s been playing me up. During their argument over Zoe, Dad’s expression, weary and apprehensive, loving and irritated, reminded Jade of how she felt out in the paddock with her new monster. She didn’t want to do that to her dad — to make him feel close to defeat.
‘I’ve never been concussed,’ Zoe said, muting the ads. ‘What’s it like?’
‘The doctor said it’d make me tired and grumpy,’ Jade said.
‘That seems right,’ Zoe said, smiling. ‘Weren’t you wearing a helmet when you fell?’
‘Yeah, of course I was. I just landed funny. The doctor said something about my brain rotating a bit. I don’t know; I’m probably fine.’ Jade wondered again how long she’d been lying next to the gate, out cold. Surely no more than a minute.
‘Want to hear about my worst fall?’ The ads had finished and the last segment of Shortland Street was playing silently, but Zoe seemed to have lost interest in the programme.
‘OK.’
‘It was out hunting when I was nine. I had this awesome old pony called Bullet; he went at anything: full-wires, ditches, gates — you name it and he would’ve jumped it. He was smaller than all the adults’ horses, but we kept up.
‘Can you imagine, this cute little girl with blonde plaits on a muddy grey pony, keeping up with Sue Niven on Rushmore and Ken Lovett on this mad, skinny show-jumper? Bullet was a bit ugly, but man he was brave.’
Jade nodded blankly. She couldn’t imagine Sue Niven or Rushmore. Ken Lovett’s name rang bells, probably from the loudspeaker at shows and sports days, but Jade couldn’t picture the scene.
‘Have you ever been hunting?’ Zoe said, in a t
one that made Jade feel even more tired and grumpy. ‘It’s probably exactly what your feisty Kaimanawa boy needs. I bet he’d love a hoon around the hills.’ Jade couldn’t tell if Zoe was trying to be helpful, or goading her. She watched the older girl flick her head forward and gather her long, honey-coloured hair into a messy top-knot. She had lovely small hands, but her fingernails were dirty.
‘He probably would like it, but I don’t know if I would,’ Jade said. Then, before Zoe had the chance to ask her if she was scared of Taniwha, Jade continued, ‘What about your fall?’
‘Oh, yeah. Anyway, Bullet was pretty old, right? I completely trusted him and let him do everything — I pretty much just held on and grinned. But towards the end of his life I should have helped him more. We were right at the start of the hunt, in the middle of the first run, when Bullet got his stride completely wrong. It was only a spar, but we were going way too fast, and when his shins hit the top we flipped. One second we were taking off, the next Bullet was falling on top of me. I was on the ground bawling — my pelvis was broken, you see.’
‘Was Bullet all right?’
‘No, he wasn’t. He rolled off me OK, but when he tried to stand it was obvious that he wasn’t right at all. Broken leg. “Bullet needs a bullet,” someone said, probably Uncle Glen.’ Zoe grimaced and Jade stared at the plaited strands of the living-room rug.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jade said eventually. ‘That’s really sad.’
‘Yeah, I was pretty gutted. But I was in the rescue helicopter when poor old Bully was shot. At least, I don’t remember being there when it happened. Later, back at home, his gear was still covered in mud and white hairs, so I gave it a good clean. Cosima uses it now, on Al. He’s actually a lot like Bullet, except black.’
‘I’ve got an old black pony,’ Jade said, wanting to change the subject. ‘Pip’s twenty-four and recovering from laminitis, so I don’t ride her anymore. She’s sort of a paddock mate for Tani.’
‘Laminitis is nasty,’ Zoe said, screwing up her face. ‘You’re lucky Pip’s recovering.’
‘Yeah, very lucky. She’s heaps better now — almost walking normally. I reckon I might see if anyone at school or pony club wants a beginner’s pony, just to walk around on. She can stay at Mr White’s — that’s where I graze my ponies — but I feel guilty each time I ride Tani and Pip’s left behind.’
‘Oh, no! I missed the end!’ Zoe said, unmuting the television in time for Shortland Street’s closing credits. ‘You didn’t see what happened, did you?’
‘No.’ Jade had, in fact, seen a blond man, whom she thought was a doctor, kissing a brunette woman in a kitchen, but she was annoyed at Zoe for interrupting their conversation about ponies for something so trivial.
‘So, what would you like to watch now?’ Zoe said, in her best baby-sitter voice.
‘I don’t care.’ Jade tried not to sound sulky. ‘Anything — flick through the channels.’
None of the programmes appealed to Jade. Everyone in the world seemed to be trying to lose weight, look ten years younger, win a cooking competition or argue with their neighbours, until Zoe flicked to the fifth channel. There were matching bays pulling a carriage, in which sat a very pale girl of about Jade’s age, wearing a black bonnet and staring into the distance.
‘Maybe we could watch this?’ Jade suggested.
‘What is it?’ Zoe asked, pressing a button on the remote. ‘Jane Eyre. Are you sure you want to watch this? Neighbours at War looked pretty funny.’
‘We have to read this at school,’ Jade said. In fact, her attention had simply been caught by the horses, but a paperback with Jane Eyre: Abridged on the cover was sitting on her bedside table, so far unopened.
‘All right, then,’ Zoe sighed, wriggling about in her chair as if she were preparing to fall asleep.
At first, Jade was pleased that Zoe had let her watch Jane Eyre. She began to genuinely enjoy the film, for the long white nightdresses and huge stately houses nearly as much as for the horses — until she became uncomfortably aware that Zoe did not share her enthusiasm. Jade could see the older girl’s thumb on the remote, itching to change the channel. It’s because Dad’s paid her to sit here, keeping an eye on me, that she doesn’t watch what she likes, Jade thought. So it was a relief that, within about an hour, Zoe had drifted off and was snoring gently.
But then the film became scary, and when Jane Eyre woke in the night and heard a woman cackling from the attic, Jade could have sworn a floorboard creaked in the hallway. If Zoe had been awake, she could have checked that a prowler hadn’t broken into the house. That was what baby-sitters were for, wasn’t it? Checking for prowlers? When Jade was very young, about five — long before her mother had died — she had had a baby-sitter who had called the police because she’d thought a prowler was lurking in the back garden. The police didn’t find anyone, but since then the word ‘prowler’ made Jade’s skin prickle.
At nine, the phone rang. Standing up too quickly from the couch, where she’d been lying all evening, Jade’s head spun. She walked gingerly out into the hallway, wondering whether she should have picked up a knife as she passed through the kitchen.
‘Hello?’
It was her dad, calling to check in and say goodnight. ‘I thought you might be asleep already.’
‘No, but my fourteen-year-old “companion” is.’
‘She must be tired after her trip home from boarding school this morning. How about you? Head not too sore?’
Jade assured her father that she felt fine, and asked how his day had gone.
‘Busy, and freezing cold, but successful. I already have most of what I need for the story, so I shouldn’t be too late home tomorrow.’
‘What time?’
‘No later than six. You don’t mind spending tomorrow with Zoe, do you? I thought she seemed nice.’
‘Yeah, she’s OK.’ Jade did her best to sound happy, but her voice was thin. ‘It’s good that she’s horsey — we’re going to visit Pip and Tani tomorrow morning, I think. Zoe might even ride Tani.’ This plan hadn’t been discussed yet, but Jade didn’t see why Zoe wouldn’t agree. After all, neither of them had to go to school.
‘Make sure you’re not tempted to ride. By all means fill the troughs and throw the brutes some hay, but no getting back into the saddle yet.’
‘What about that saying?’ Jade asked, teasing. ‘The one about getting straight back on the horse?’
‘I suspect that saying preceded modern medical insights into concussion. And, Jade, make sure that monster doesn’t dump Zoe on her head, too. It wouldn’t do to concuss your own baby-sitter.’
‘Companion!’
‘Sorry, yes, companion.’
After saying goodbye, and urging her dad to drive carefully the next day, Jade hung up the phone. The credits for the film were rolling quickly up the screen, accompanied by melodramatic orchestral music. She turned off the TV and considered making a Milo before she prepared for bed, but couldn’t be bothered boiling the kettle; instead, she swigged a bit of milk from the carton, as her mother had always told her not to.
‘G’night, Zoe,’ Jade whispered, not wanting to wake the older girl. There was a sleeping bag and pillow next to Zoe’s armchair, and Jade couldn’t decide whether to unroll the bag and drape it over her companion. That was what people did in movies. Clumsily, Jade threw the bag over Zoe, like a cover over a pony, but it promptly slid off onto the floor. Jade crept out of the living room, embarrassed.
‘Thanks, Jade,’ she heard faintly, as she closed the door. ‘Sleep well.’
Jade woke the next morning exhausted from nightmares (night-geldings? she thought briefly, rubbing her eyes). The order of events was unclear, but she remembered riding Taniwha down a river. They weren’t crossing to the other side, just walking with the current, until the water became too deep. Jade was swept to the riverbank, but poor Taniwha, despite trying to swim back upstream to his rider, was dragged away by the water.
They were horrible, swe
aty dreams from which it was a great relief to wake. The blue curtains were glowing, letting through a stripe of light that cut across the wall where Jade had pinned all her ribbons. The red satin sashes were from the Showjumping Champs, which the Flaxton team had won in spite of a bout of lameness: first reliable old Pip, then Jade herself.
Six months, and so little improvement, Jade thought, counting back to the Champs, which marked the beginning of her partnership with Taniwha; Taniwha the Terrible, or Taniwha the Troubled, as Jade’s dad liked to call the young Kaimanawa pony.
‘It must be far more rewarding,’ he would say, ‘getting the most out of that brute than it was with lovely old Pip.’
Yes, it no doubt would have been rewarding — had Jade been ‘getting the most’ out of Tani.
‘Zoe?’ Jade asked as they ate rice bubbles together at the kitchen counter. She’d been silently practising what to say for the past five minutes.
‘Mm?’
‘I need to go and check the horse troughs this morning. Would you like to come with me?’
Zoe raised one eyebrow — something that Jade wished she could do and had practised, but to no avail.
‘And,’ Jade went on, ‘while we’re there, maybe you could try riding Taniwha? Only if you want to, though!’
‘Sure, if your helmet fits me. I don’t want brain damage.’
‘Of course,’ Jade said, before realizing that Zoe was joking. Zoe Death wasn’t really scared at all; she had no intention of falling off.
Perhaps that was the attitude Jade was missing: blind optimism. That’s how she’d been with Pip, back when she knew nothing about riding — or falling. Now, Jade thought, she knew too much and had lost her courage. But Zoe had obviously had plenty of falls; she’d even broken her pelvis! How could she be so calm, simply walking into the paddock, throwing the lead rope over Tani’s solid neck and walking him back to the yard as if he were a Labrador rather than a barely broken pony?
