by Amanda Wills
‘I know you think I was too hard on Hope, Cloud, but I was so angry she’d lied to me. You were right though, I should have realised it was all Shelley’s idea and Hope wasn’t to blame. But I’ve apologised to her and we’re friends again.’ She stroked Cloud’s nose absentmindedly and he blew gently into her hand, his warm breath tickling her fingers. She felt forgiven.
Hope’s dad arrived at Riverdale the following evening, dishevelled after a night flight from Toronto. Hope tore through the house like a mini-hurricane when she heard his taxi and hurled herself into his arms.
He introduced himself to the McKeevers. ‘Matt Taylor. Pleased to meet you. Sorry it’s not under better circumstances. Hope, I wish you’d told me what was happening.’
‘I couldn’t, Dad. Mum said she’d be put in prison and I’d end up in a children’s home if anyone found out. She said you didn’t want me anymore, not now you had Kirstin and your new life in Canada.’ Hope buried her face in his jumper.
‘Your mum said a lot of things that weren’t true, Hope. But things are going to change. Kirstin and I want you to come and live with us.’
‘In Canada?’
‘Yes. No-one will know about your mum and what she’s done there. It’ll be a new start. Would you like that?’
‘More than anything. Though I’ll miss everyone here. Especially Buster. He’s the pony I’ve been having riding lessons on,’ she explained.
‘There are riding schools in Canada, you know,’ laughed her dad. I’m sure we can sort something out.’
Once again Shelley Taylor was front page news in the Tavistock Herald. But this time it was for all the wrong reasons. Her court case was heard quickly and, despite her guilty plea, magistrates jailed her for three-and-a-half years. Fortunately Hope wasn’t around to see the story. The day before the paper came out she flew to Canada with her dad. Away from Shelley’s clutches she had morphed into the bright, fun-loving girl Poppy had seen glimpses of during their time together.
‘I’m going to miss you all so much,’ she told the McKeevers. ‘Especially you, Poppy. You will keep in touch, won’t you? I want to know how Cloud and Chester are doing. And Buster and Rosie. Can you thank Bella for me? I feel bad that she gave me those lessons because she thought I had cancer.’
‘It wasn’t your fault, Hope. Bella will understand. And everyone who gave to the appeal will get their money back. So stop apologising!’ Poppy ordered with a grin.
It felt strange saying goodbye to Hope for the last time. ‘We’ve only known her for a few months but it seems much longer than that,’ Poppy said to Caroline as they watched the Taylors’ taxi disappear down the drive.
‘I know what you mean. She feels like part of the family. I wonder how Shelley’s coping in prison. It’s terrible that she’s going to miss out on so many years of Hope’s childhood.’
Poppy raised her eyebrows. Her dad spoke firmly. ‘Spare your sympathy for someone who deserves it, Caroline. Shelley was quite happy to con little old ladies out of their hard-earned savings. She had it coming to her.’
Perfectly put, thought Poppy, watching her dad link arms with Caroline and walk back into the house. Although she wasn’t sure Tory would have appreciated being called a little old lady.
The last few days of the Christmas holidays flew by and before she knew it Poppy was sitting on the school bus next to Scarlett on the first day of term. After being given the first few months to find their feet, Poppy, Scarlett and the rest of the Year Sevens were suddenly disappearing under a mountain of homework. Her dad had managed to secure a temporary secondment to the BBC’s foreign desk in London and left Riverdale at four every Monday morning, returning home late every Friday night. Poppy’s riding lessons at Redhall Manor were still a highlight of her week. Under Bella’s expert tutelage she was learning how to slow Rosie to a collected trot and canter and then lengthen her strides into extended paces. With Hope gone, Poppy had Bella’s full attention and the riding school owner didn’t miss a trick. If Poppy wasn’t being chided for rounding her shoulders Bella was castigating her for not maintaining contact with Rosie’s mouth. Sometimes Poppy wondered if she was making any progress at all. She treasured any nuggets of praise, however small, and the day Bella told her she was a tidy little rider she virtually floated home.
The first snowdrops were flowering in time for Poppy’s twelfth birthday. It fell on a Sunday and Caroline woke early to pick Poppy a small bunch of the waxy white flowers from where they grew in drifts in the border next to her vegetable garden. Delicate in appearance yet tough enough to push their way through frozen soil, the snowdrops reminded Caroline of her stepdaughter. She arranged them in a small vase on a tray with some croissants and honey. Treating Poppy to breakfast in bed was not something she would have felt able to do a year ago. Poppy would have rejected the attempt to reach out to her. It still gladdened her heart that they had moved on so far since then.
As she approached Poppy’s bedroom, Charlie bounded out, his hair tousled.
‘She’s still asleep,’ he told his mum in a stage whisper.
‘I was,’ came Poppy’s voice from behind her door, ‘Until you sneaked in and trod on Magpie’s tail and he squealed and woke me up.’
Charlie grinned at Caroline. ‘Oops,’ he said. ‘Is Dad awake?’
Soon they were all sitting on the end of Poppy’s bed watching the birthday girl eat her croissants. When she’d finished Charlie ran out again only to reappear with a pile of presents in his arms, which he deposited on his sister’s lap.
‘Open mine first,’ he demanded, waving a rectangular parcel under her nose.
‘OK, OK!’ she laughed. Charlie had used so much sticky tape it took Poppy a good five minutes to peel open the wrapping paper. She pulled off the last strip to reveal two wooden name plates.
‘I remembered we saw some in Baxters’ but I didn’t have enough pocket money to buy them so I made my own. There’s one for Cloud and one for Chester. I painted their names and they’ve both got their pictures on. Mum did the outlines and I coloured them in,’ Charlie said proudly.
With Charlie’s spidery handwriting and inexpertly coloured heads that were only vaguely equine-shaped, they were a far cry from the professionally painted and varnished name plates in Baxters’ Animal Feeds. But Poppy didn’t mind.
‘They’re brilliant! Thank you Charlie. I’ll hang them on the stable door later.’
Her dad handed her a large, flat present. ‘I hope you like it. We didn’t really know what to get you, what with your birthday so close to Christmas.’
Poppy tore off the paper. Inside a layer of bubble wrap was a framed watercolour of Cloud and Chester in the shadow of the Riverdale tor. The pony and donkey stood looking straight at her, perfectly captured in time. She traced her finger across Cloud’s neck and smiled. It was a beautiful painting.
‘Caroline heard about a local artist who specialises in horses and commissioned him to paint it,’ said her dad.
‘It’s amazing. How did he get such a good likeness?’ Poppy wondered.
‘I took dozens of photos and emailed them to him,’ said Caroline. ‘Then one day while you were at school he drove over and did some sketches. Do you like it?’
‘I love it. Thank you so much,’ she said, flinging her arms around her stepmum and blowing her dad a kiss.
‘So what does twelve feel like?’ he asked her.
‘Absolutely ancient,’ groaned Poppy.
It was a wonderful start to a perfect day. When Poppy went down to feed and muck out Cloud and Chester she found another present hidden in their hayrack. The label read, To Poppy, our favourite human in the whole world. With all our love, Cloud and Chester xx. Inside were a body protector and a pair of leather riding gloves.
While she was sweeping the yard Scarlett turned up riding Blaze and leading Flynn.
‘Happy birthday, Poppy. It’s time to down tools and come for a ride. Here’s your mount for the day,’ she said, handing Flynn’s reins to Poppy. �
�I think you’ll agree he’s been beautifully groomed for the occasion.’
Once Poppy had raced inside to change the two girls headed onto the moor for their favourite hack, a two hour ride that followed the valley towards the Blackstone farm before skirting a copse and returning along quiet country lanes. Scarlett craned her neck as they passed Flint Cottage but there was nothing to see. The curtains were drawn and the house had a desolate, forsaken look about it. But it had never been a happy place, thought Poppy.
‘I wonder how Hope’s getting on,’ said Scarlett, reading her mind.
‘I had a birthday email from her this morning. She’s due to start school in the next couple of days and said she’s really looking forward to it. Her dad’s already found a riding school near them and she’s going to have lessons once a week. Oh, and she really likes Kirstin, that’s her dad’s girlfriend.’
‘So it all worked out for the best in the end.’
‘Shelley might not agree. She’s in prison in Gloucestershire, according to a story in the Herald this week.’
‘She deserved everything she got,’ said Scarlett firmly, kicking Blaze into a trot.
That evening, just before seven o’clock, Scarlett sent Poppy a text. Dad says would you and Charlie like to see a lamb being born? He’s got a ewe due to deliver in the next hour xxx.
Caroline walked with them across the field to Ashworthy. All the ewes were in a large barn at the far side of the farmyard. Scarlett was already there watching her dad checking over a black-faced ewe that was pawing the ground and panting. Charlie was clutching his digital camera in one hand and his binoculars in the other.
‘This is so exciting. It’s like a real life nature documentary,’ he whispered.
‘Aye, all we need now is David Attenborough and a camera crew to appear,’ chuckled Bill.
‘Don’t worry, Bill. My camera does short films as well. How long will we have to wait before the lamb is born? I’ll need to get in position.’
‘I don’t think she’ll be long now, lad,’ Bill told the six-year-old. He was right. The ewe lay down in the straw and a few minutes later her lamb was born head first, its front feet tucked neatly under its chin. Once the head and shoulders were out the rest of the lamb’s body soon slithered to the ground. Charlie, who had filmed the birth through the bars of the gate, gave them the thumbs up.
‘A nice healthy ewe,’ said Bill with satisfaction as he cleared the mucus membranes from the lamb’s mouth and head and placed her in front of her mother.
‘I think we should call this one Poppy, as they share a birthday,’ said Scarlett.
They watched transfixed as the ewe began licking her lamb. After a while Poppy’s tiny namesake struggled to her feet, her legs wobbly as she searched for milk. Just twenty minutes after being born she was suckling contentedly.
‘This little one’s lucky – she has a good mum. Some of them aren’t so fortunate and the ewes reject them at birth. That’s why they end up as sock lambs,’ said Bill.
Poppy leant on the gate of the pen, thinking about mothers and daughters. Hope and Shelley. Scarlett and Pat. Isobel, Caroline. Who could tell whether or not you’d end up with a good mum, like the spindly-legged lamb in front of them? Perhaps it was all a giant lottery, down to the luck of the draw.
In which case, Poppy felt very lucky indeed.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The date of Cloud’s X-ray loomed ever closer and Poppy was counting down the days with a mixture of trepidation and excitement that gave her permanent butterflies. No matter how hard she tried not to show it, she knew Cloud sensed her tension. He radiated nervous energy and was almost bouncing off the walls of his stable after being cooped up for so long.
Finally the day arrived and once more Bill pulled up outside Riverdale with his Land Rover and trailer ready to transport Cloud to the vet centre in Tavistock. Caroline loaded Chester first and Cloud dragged Poppy up the ramp behind the donkey as if he knew it was his ticket to freedom.
‘He was a nervous wreck that first time, do you remember?’ said Caroline. ‘He’s come a long way these last few months, Poppy.’
‘I know. It’s easy to forget when you see him every day. I think he’d still be lost without Chester though.’
The vet was waiting for them in the yard. The moment Bill parked Poppy was out, undoing the bolts on the trailer. The vet watched closely as she backed Cloud slowly down the ramp and led him across the yard to the barn at the end.
‘He certainly looks sound. Let’s see if the proof’s in the pudding, shall we?’
Poppy jiggled from one foot to the other as the vet fiddled with the X-ray equipment. Within a few minutes it was over and she was leading Cloud back to the trailer, her heart in her mouth. She followed the vet and Caroline into the consulting room where they’d first heard the news that Cloud’s pedal bone was fractured and it was uncertain if he would ever fully recover.
The vet was smiling as she placed a new X-ray on a light box alongside the original.
‘Well Poppy, tell me what you think,’ she said.
The hairline fracture that ran the length of Cloud’s foot in the first X-ray had disappeared in the latest ghostly picture.
‘It looks better than it was,’ offered Poppy, the natural born pessimist.
‘I should say so. The bone has completely healed. You’d never know he’d broken it, looking at this. I’d say the box rest has done the trick. I can take the bar shoe off him today if you like,’ said the vet.
Poppy’s heart soared. Cloud was finally, indisputably, undeniably sound. There was only one question on her lips.
‘Will I be able to ride him now?’
Scarlett was waiting for them as they turned into the Riverdale drive.
‘I got your text Poppy! That’s fantastic news, you must be so excited. Clever Cloud. When are you going to have your first ride? Shall we go out for a hack this afternoon?’ she chattered breathlessly.
‘Slow down, Scarlett,’ laughed Caroline. ‘Poppy needs to take things steadily. Cloud hasn’t had anyone on his back for five years, remember. I’ll speak to Bella on Thursday and see what her advice is.’
Privately Poppy thought there was no way she was waiting until Thursday. But she also didn’t want everyone making a fuss. Since the summer she’d spent hours, days, imagining the moment she rode Cloud for the first time. But in all those daydreams it had been just the two of them. The last thing she needed was an audience. She knew everyone had her best interests at heart. But she wished they would back off.
‘The first thing I’m going to do is turn him out. He’s been going crazy cooped up in the stable for so long,’ she said firmly.
Caroline nodded her approval. ‘Good idea. It’s so mild he won’t need a rug. It’ll do him good to feel the sun on his back.’
Bill parked and they all piled out. Cloud whinnied and they laughed.
‘He knows he’s home,’ said Poppy. She let down the ramp of the trailer and backed him out. ‘I think we should put Chester in the field first, then Cloud can join him.’
‘How did you get on?’ her dad asked, appearing from the side of the house, closely followed by Charlie and Freddie.
‘As sound as a bell,’ grinned Poppy. ‘I’m just turning him out for the first time.’ Cloud, realising they weren’t heading straight for the stables as usual, was standing stock still, his head high, sniffing the wind. Caroline undid his travel boots and unfastened his day rug and slipped it off. Poppy laid a hand on his shoulder. He trembled beneath her touch. He whinnied again and Chester answered with a deep hee haw. Poppy clicked her tongue. ‘Come on then. Let’s go.’ She pulled gently on his lead rope. Cloud gave a toss of his head, his mane silver in the sun, and started dancing on the spot. Poppy could feel the pent up energy flowing through him and she tightened her hold. She clicked her tongue again and he crabbed sideways after her, through the gate and into the paddock.
‘I’d better leave his headcollar on. I don’t know how easy h
e’s going to be to catch,’ she muttered to herself. She realised there was a side to him that she didn’t know at all. This hot-headed, powerful pony who was pawing the ground in excitement was very different to the Cloud she’d spent the last few months getting to know within the safe confines of his stable. She felt everyone watching her as she stroked his mane and unclipped the lead rope. ‘Stay safe,’ she whispered.
But Cloud didn’t hear. He was off, galloping around the field, his tail high and his mane streaming. He twisted his body and gave a series of almighty bucks. Chester lifted his head to watch as he thundered past, his hooves cutting into the turf. Cloud slid to a halt in the mud by the water trough and, with a loud grunt, sank to his knees and rolled. His hooves waved wildly in the air and he rubbed his head to and fro joyfully. By the time he stood up and shook he was covered from head to toe in mud. He snorted with satisfaction and crossed the field to join Chester. Soon the pony and donkey were grazing contentedly side by side.
Bill made noises about checking his ewes and left, taking Scarlett with him. Her dad and Charlie disappeared inside to resume their game of table football, Freddie following them like a shadow. Caroline headed in the direction of her kitchen garden to dig up some leeks for dinner. But Poppy wasn’t going anywhere. She sat on the post and rail fence and gazed at Cloud and Chester, her face beaming and her heart bursting with love.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Darkness wrapped itself around the old stone cottage at the foot of the Riverdale tor like a velvet blanket. Inside Riverdale’s solid stone walls the McKeevers slept deeply. All except Poppy, who had never felt more awake, more alive, in her life. Once she was sure everyone was asleep she leapt out of bed and flicked on her bedside light. The noise of the switch woke Magpie, who was curled up on the patchwork blanket at the end of her bed. He stared at her, his green eyes unimpressed.
