The Riverdale Pony Stories Box Set (Books 1-6)

by Amanda Wills

  ‘I like it,’ said Poppy firmly, trying to make amends for her brother’s lack of tact. ‘It suits you.’

  Charlie opened his mouth to speak, but when he saw the expression on his sister’s face he snapped it shut again.

  ‘What was your hair like before?’ Poppy asked, sitting down on the edge of the faded brown sofa opposite Hope.

  The girl smiled. Her face was transformed. ‘It was down to my waist and was as yellow as straw. My dad used to call me Rapunzel. This hair feels a bit weird, to be honest. But at least it makes a change from the hat.’

  ‘Where is your dad? Is he dead?’ asked Charlie, plonking himself on the sofa next to his sister. Poppy winced and elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

  ‘Ow! What did you do that for! I was only asking!’

  ‘No, he isn’t dead. He moved out last summer,’ said Hope, her voice low. ‘He and Mum are getting a divorce.’

  ‘Do you get to see him very often?’ Poppy asked.

  ‘I haven’t seen him for over a year. He lives in Canada now with Kirstin, his new girlfriend. My mum won’t let me -’

  ‘Your mum won’t let you what?’

  Hope almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of Shelley’s voice. No-one had noticed the lounge door open. Hope fell silent, leaving the sentence dangling like a spider on a silk thread, and stared at her mum warily.

  ‘You won’t let me go to school. Because of all the germs,’ she finished lamely.

  Shelley’s face cleared. ‘That’s right, babe. I can teach you everything you need to know right here. Who needs school anyway? It didn’t exactly do me any favours. Do you lot want a drink?’

  She was back moments later with three glasses of orange squash which she set down on the coffee table. Hope went to stand up but caught her foot on the corner of a rug and lost her balance. As she put out a hand to steady herself she knocked the tray, which wobbled as dangerously as a ship on a stormy sea. Hope paled as the vivid orange liquid sloshed over the tops of the glasses.

  Shelley seized Hope’s wrist and pulled the girl towards her. ‘Look what you’ve done now, you stupid girl!’ she spat.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum. It was an accident. I’ll clear it up.’

  Shelley twisted Hope’s wrist and pushed her towards the door. ‘Too right you will. Go and get a cloth before it leaks onto the carpet,’ she ordered.

  Remembering that Poppy and Charlie were still in the room Shelley turned to them and forced a smile. But her eyes remained narrowed. ‘I don’t know, how clumsy can you get?’ she asked. Poppy picked at a broken nail and said nothing. Even Charlie had been left speechless by the venom in Shelley’s voice.

  ‘Right. Well, I’ll leave you to it.’ With that Shelley swept out of the room. Poppy noticed Hope standing just outside the door, holding a cloth in one hand and twiddling nervously with a strand of her copper-coloured wig with the other as her mum passed. She slunk into the room and began dabbing ineffectually at the spilt squash.

  ‘Here, let me do it,’ said Poppy. She eased the cloth from Hope’s thin fingers and wiped up the mess. ‘There you go, all sorted.’

  Hope murmured her thanks and folded herself into the armchair.

  ‘Hope –’ Poppy began. But the girl turned away. The shutters had come down. The atmosphere in the small lounge suddenly felt oppressive and Poppy was relieved for once when Charlie broke the silence.

  ‘Can we turn on the telly?’

  ‘If you like.’ Hope stood up, crossed the room and switched on the television. She picked up the remote control and pressed a couple of buttons. Nothing happened. She waved the remote in the direction of the set and kept pressing. The screen remained stubbornly blank.

  ‘Sorry, I haven’t sussed out how to work it yet,’ she admitted.

  ‘Let me have a look,’ offered Charlie. Hope passed him the remote control. ‘It’s the same as Ed’s.’ Charlie fiddled with the remote and the reassuring face of Sir David Attenborough filled the screen. ‘Oh cool, a wildlife programme. Can we watch this?’ he asked.

  Poppy and Hope, each deep in their own thoughts, nodded. Neither girl knew quite what to say to the other so they watched TV without speaking until it was time to go home.

  Chapter Ten

  Tory Wickens eased the yellowing newspaper cutting into a clear plastic sleeve and placed it in her handbag, careful not to crease it. She had spent the last hour sifting through a box of papers and photos before finding the cutting buried at the bottom. She hadn’t touched the box for years. It held too many memories, some of which were still raw. Tory could look at her wedding photographs with equanimity – it was fifteen years since her husband Douglas had died and in that time her grief had softened and blurred. But she could hardly bear to look at the photos of her daughter, Jo, and her granddaughter, Caitlyn. Since Caitlyn’s death she and Jo had barely spoken. Tory ran a hand through her white hair and tried to drag her thoughts away from the hunter trial in Widecombe where Caitlyn and her pony had fallen. The chiming clock on the mantelpiece interrupted her thoughts. Ten o’clock. Her nephew was a stickler for punctuality and would be here any moment to drive her to Riverdale. Tory picked up her bag and her two walking sticks and shuffled to the front door to meet him.

  Poppy paced up and down the stable, her hands behind her back, with the air of a Brigadier inspecting his troops. She stopped to pick an errant piece of straw out of Chester’s woolly forelock before straightening Cloud’s rug for the second time.

  ‘I think you pass muster. In fact you both look gorgeous, even though I say so myself,’ she told them. She looked down at her fleece top and jeans, now covered in the dust and grime that she’d spent the last hour brushing off Chester and Cloud. ‘Although I can’t say the same for me – I’m filthy. I’d better go and change before Tory gets here. Now you two,’ she added sternly. ‘Remember to be on your best behaviour, please.’

  When she heard a car pull up outside the front door, Poppy ran down the stairs, two at a time, and slid to a halt in the hallway, where Charlie was introducing Tory to Freddie. The dog offered his bandaged paw to Tory.

  ‘It’s nice to meet you too, Freddie,’ she told him. ‘What a handsome chap you are. I hear that you’re going to be the star attraction at Waterby Dog Show this year.’ The dog thumped his tail and Charlie grinned.

  ‘We’ve been practising, haven’t we, Freddie? I’ve been watching some of the dancing dogs on YouTube. It’s given me lots of ideas.’

  Caroline and Poppy groaned in unison. Caroline took Tory’s coat. ‘Would you like a cup of tea,’ she asked.

  Tory shook her head. ‘Tea can wait. I’d much rather see Cloud and Chester first. Poppy can take me, can’t you, pet?’

  Poppy took Tory’s arm and they made their way down the hallway, through the kitchen and out of the back door.

  ‘Are they still sharing a stable?’ Tory asked.

  ‘I did try them on their own but Cloud made a terrible racket, calling and kicking the door. I was worried he was going to do himself some serious damage. As soon as I put Chester back in the stable he was OK.’

  ‘They always did share, you know. Ever since that first day I brought Cloud home from the horse sales. Caitlyn and I didn’t like to separate them.’

  Tory’s reminder that Cloud had been Caitlyn’s long before he was Poppy’s needled. For the last few weeks she hadn’t given Caitlyn a second thought. Tory walked slowly over to Cloud, who was standing behind Chester at the back of the stable. Cloud stood motionless, his brown eyes never leaving Tory’s lined face as she placed a hand on the Connemara’s forehead. It was such a tender, affectionate gesture that Poppy felt as though she was intruding on an intensely private moment. She tried to concentrate on the back of Tory’s hand, but the old woman’s papery-white skin, dotted with liver spots, swam before her. Suddenly she saw Caitlyn, crouched low over Cloud’s neck as he galloped across the moor, his silver mane and tail streaming behind him. She remembered Tory’s words the day she’d told Poppy about
the accident. How Cloud would do anything for Caitlyn. How they trusted each other completely. How the pony’s heart had been broken the day she died. Poppy shook her head and the picture of Caitlyn and Cloud disappeared.

  Tory returned to her side. ‘Cloud is looking so well, Poppy. You really are doing a super job.’

  ‘I don’t know, Tory. I don’t know anything about looking after a pony. Not compared to you. Or Caitlyn.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t look like it to me. Chester’s never looked better and it’s hard to believe that Cloud has spent the last few years running wild on the moor. Don’t do yourself down.’

  Chester chose that moment to walk over and give his former owner a businesslike nudge. Tory laughed and produced a new packet of Polos from her coat pocket. ‘Alright Chester, is this what you were looking for? You have the memory of an elephant, my old friend.’

  At the kitchen table, in front of mugs of tea, Tory ferreted around in her bag.

  ‘I’ve brought something to show you, Poppy. It’s an old newspaper report of Brambleton Horse Show in 2006. Caitlyn and Cloud came first in the open jumping class. You remember the photo I have of the two of them being presented with a red rosette? That was the day it was taken. I thought you might like to see it.’

  Poppy scanned the article. Phrases like ‘huge potential’, ‘winning streak’ and ‘unbeatable team’ leapt out at her from the faded type. She felt Tory’s eyes on her and forced a smile.

  ‘It’s excellent, Tory. You must have been so proud of them both,’ she said, to the old woman’s obvious pleasure.

  Caroline, busy peeling potatoes at the sink, was the only one to notice the tiny catch in Poppy’s voice, but said nothing.

  Over lunch the McKeevers filled Tory in on the Hope for Hope Appeal and Poppy showed her the recipe for dog biscuits Caroline had found.

  ‘That poor girl. Pass me my bag would you, Charlie dear? Please give this to Hope’s mum with my best wishes the next time you see her, Caroline.’ Poppy watched as Tory slid a cheque for five hundred pounds across the table.

  ‘Are you sure, Tory? That’s an awful lot of money,’ said Caroline.

  ‘I was going to treat myself to a new washing machine but it can wait. This is much more important. I’d like to do whatever I can to help,’ the old woman said firmly.

  Chapter Eleven

  Scarlett’s dad, Bill, had once again offered to take Cloud to Tavistock for his next vet appointment. Poppy and Scarlett rode in the front of the Land Rover while Caroline and Charlie sat in the back with Freddie. Scarlett sang along to songs on the radio, making up the lyrics she didn’t know, which gave Charlie the giggles. Poppy watched the moor race past the window, her thoughts, as always, dominated by Cloud.

  ‘Do you remember Caitlyn, Bill?’ she said in a gap between songs. He nodded.

  ‘What was she like?’

  ‘She was a lovely girl, always smiling. You remember her, don’t you Scarlett? She used to babysit you and your brother occasionally when your mum and I were busy lambing.’

  Scarlett was silent, trying to remember, then exclaimed, ‘Yes, I think I do! Did she have long, blonde hair? Almost down to her waist? I used to love it when she babysat! She let us watch whatever we wanted on the telly.’

  ‘That’s her. It was such a tragedy when she died. The whole village was in shock. Why do you ask, Poppy?’

  ‘Oh, no reason. I just wondered, that’s all.’ Poppy returned her gaze to the window. As they reached the outskirts of town, she felt a flutter of nerves. What if Cloud’s fracture hadn’t healed? What if it was worse? Caroline, watching from the back seat, read her mind.

  ‘Don’t worry, Poppy. I’m sure it’ll be good news.’

  Caroline was right to be optimistic.

  ‘Let’s start with Freddie’s X-ray,’ said the vet, as they joined her in the consulting room an hour later. ‘See here? His bone has knitted together perfectly, just as I’d hoped. We can take his cast off today. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see the back of it.’

  ‘What about Cloud’s?’ asked Poppy, although she’d known as soon as the vet had pinned the X-ray to the light box. She could still see a faint crack running down the length of his hoof.

  ‘I’m afraid he’s not got the all clear yet. But look, here’s the X-ray we took a month ago. There’s definitely an improvement. The bone is healing, Poppy. It’s just going to take time.’

  Poppy gave the vet a wan smile.

  ‘I’ll see Cloud again in another month and hopefully his foot will be as good as new. Right, let’s take off Freddie’s plaster cast.’

  Caroline looked at her watch. ‘I promised Bill we’d be finished by now. I’d better go and tell him we’re almost ready. Come and find me when you’re done here, you two.’

  Poppy held Freddie’s lead as the vet rooted around in her bag for a pair of surgical scissors. Charlie noticed her silver name badge as she bent down to start snipping away at the grubby cast. ‘Are you the vet who was in the paper talking about the black panther?’ he asked suddenly.

  ‘You’ve got a good memory. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Do you really think that sheep was killed by a dog?’

  The vet busied herself tidying away the pieces of plaster. Eventually she looked up. ‘Look, the last thing I want to do is scaremonger,’ she hedged.

  ‘You can tell us. We won’t tell anyone, I swear. We just want him to be safe. It was me and Poppy who saw the panther on the moor, you see.’

  The vet was silent for a moment. She had worked for a spell at London Zoo when she’d first graduated and knew exactly what a carcass looked like when it had been mauled by big cats.

  ‘It’s OK,’ said Poppy. ‘We really won’t tell.’

  ‘Alright. But this has to remain between these four walls, otherwise the big cat fanatics will start causing mayhem. Yes, I am one hundred per cent certain that the ram was killed by a big cat. It probably was a panther, judging by the size of the teeth marks.’

  ‘I knew it!’ breathed Charlie. ‘But why has no-one ever seen him apart from us?’

  ‘I’ve been wondering about that,’ admitted the vet. ‘He might be old, he might be ill. Dartmoor is so vast only a desperate animal would come so close to Waterby to hunt.’

  Poppy could see her brother was looking tearful and she squeezed his hand. ‘He looked pretty healthy when we saw him. He’ll be OK. Come on, Charlie. We’d better go and find Caroline.’

  Poppy couldn’t get the image of Cloud and Caitlyn out of her mind for the next couple of days. Looking after Cloud had been second nature but suddenly she felt clumsy and inept. As if he sensed her crisis of confidence, Cloud withdrew to the back of his stable. The harder she tried to get things right, whether it was tying a quick release knot or picking out his feet, the more ham-fisted she became. She found herself constantly apologising to the pony.

  One evening after school Caroline found her in the kitchen, her head in her hands, staring morosely at a pile of schoolbooks that lay untouched in front of her.

  ‘What’s wrong, Poppy?’

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing. Not really,’ she answered evasively.

  ‘Is it school?’

  ‘No. School’s fine. Too much homework as usual, but no change there.’

  ‘Have you and Scarlett had a falling out?’

  Poppy looked at Caroline as though she was mad.

  ‘Have I done something to upset you?’

  Poppy shook her head.

  ‘Is it Cloud?’

  ‘Not really. Well, yes. Sort of.’ Poppy hid behind her fringe so her stepmother couldn’t see her face.

  ‘Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me. What’s bothering you?’ Caroline smoothed her fringe away.

  ‘It’s Caitlyn,’ she finally admitted.

  ‘Caitlyn?’

  ‘She was such a good rider. She and Cloud won loads of competitions together. Did you see that newspaper article Tory showed me? They were an ‘unbeatable team’.’ Poppy sketched apostro
phe marks in the air. ‘When – if – Cloud is ever sound again I’ll never be as good as her. I know Scarlett’s taught me the basics but I don’t know how to do a collected canter, let alone a flying change. I’m worried I’ll let him down.’

  ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself, Poppy. We all have to start somewhere. Don’t forget you only began riding in the summer. Look how well you’ve come on since then.’

  ‘But Flynn’s a schoolmaster. He looks after me, not the other way around. Cloud hasn’t been ridden for years. It’ll be like backing a youngster and I don’t have the experience to do that. I’ll be next to useless.’

  ‘Leave it with me,’ Caroline said firmly, as an idea formed in her mind.

  The next morning Poppy’s dad came to find her as she swept the yard. He came straight to the point. ‘Caroline says you’re worried that you’re not experienced enough to ride Cloud.’

  Poppy leant the broom against the stable door and nodded mutely.

  ‘I was going to mention this at Christmas, but it seems silly not to tell you now. When your mum died she left you a bit of money. Not much - a couple of thousand pounds. I was thinking, would you like to use some of it to have some proper riding lessons? While Cloud’s stuck in his stable?’

  ‘Dad, are you serious?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘I would love to! Not that Scarlett hasn’t been a good teacher, she has. But there’s so much I don’t know.’

  ‘I thought you might say yes. I’ve already rung Bella Thompson and explained the situation.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Bella’s a friend of Tory’s and owns Redhall Manor Equestrian Centre on the Okehampton road. She’s the lady I met at the pony sales in Tavistock.’

  Poppy cast her mind back to the day Cloud arrived at Riverdale. Bella had convinced her dad to buy the emaciated pony and for this Poppy would always be grateful.

  ‘She’s quite a character,’ her dad continued, remembering Bella’s hearty handshake and her striking resemblance to Chester. ‘But she certainly knows her stuff. She says she would be delighted to give you some private lessons. I’ve booked your first one for Thursday at five.’