by Amanda Wills
Sam shook his head at the bare-faced lie.
‘He says he's really sorry and he'll be here at seven tomorrow to shoe Ariel. Will that be in time for your dressage test?’
Poppy held her breath as Vivienne squawked down the line.
‘No, there's no point you phoning him. He said he won't be able to get here any earlier. I'll make sure Ariel's groomed and plaited before the farrier arrives if that's any -’
There was a thud. Poppy presumed it was the phone being flung onto the desk. It was followed by the sound of the swivel chair scraping along the flagstone floor and Scott muttering under his breath. Poppy strained to hear. She thought she caught the words ‘Bloody woman.’
Scott threw open the door. Scarlett scampered across the yard and handed him his tea.
‘How did it go?’ she asked.
‘As well as can be expected,’ he said. ‘Are you any good at plaiting?’
Poppy checked her watch. Half past four. The stables were mucked out and the hay and water had all been done. The horses had been groomed and were grazing peacefully in their paddocks. There was a natural lull before evening stables. Sam was schooling Star in the indoor school. Scarlett had offered to help Sarah with a supermarket shop and Scott had zoomed off on his motorbike, muttering about needing some down time. Poppy found a sunny corner of the yard and sat down, Harvey Smith purring beside her.
She was texting Caroline when a lorry with a postbox-red cab turned into the Redhall drive, easing its way through the gateposts into the yard with millimetres to spare. The ruddy-faced driver climbed down from the cab, a clipboard in his hands. Poppy slipped her phone into her pocket, hauled herself to her feet and walked over.
‘I've got Mrs T's delivery,’ he said.
Poppy noticed the embroidered logo above the pocket of his red overalls. Baxters' Country Store. Bella hadn't mentioned a delivery on her list.
‘Oh, we didn't know you were coming today. I'm not sure where it's supposed to go.’
‘It's OK, I usually unload it outside the tack room,’ said the driver. He walked around to the back of the lorry, slid open the doors and reached for a mustard-yellow sack barrow.
‘The old girl's really pushed the boat out this week, hasn't she? Enough food to feed the flippin' cavalry and all them fancy supplements. They cost a bleedin' bomb. Has she won the lottery or summat?’
‘Er, no.’ Poppy joined the driver at the back of the lorry and peered inside. ‘Crikey, is that all for Redhall?’
‘Yup.’
‘Are you sure there hasn't been a mistake?’
The driver whipped a stubby pencil from behind his ear and tapped his clipboard. ‘It's all on the order form. Just sign here.’
Poppy scrawled her signature and the driver began pulling sacks of expensive-looking horse feed onto the sack barrow and wheeling it over to the tack room. Poppy picked up a couple of cartons of liquid pro-biotics and followed him. For the next ten minutes she helped him unload the lorry. Supplements for healthy bones and joints, strong hooves and glossy coats. Antioxidants and draughts to aid gastric health and digestion. Herbal tinctures promising vitality. Who knew all this stuff even existed? And since when had Bella, an old-school equestrian, had her head turned by all the marketing hype?
Once they had finished unloading the lorry Poppy sat on a tub of herbs for hormonal mares and watched it reverse slowly out of the drive. She was just finishing her text to Caroline when Sam led Star out of the indoor school and did a double take.
‘What on earth's all that?’
‘It's Bella's delivery from Baxters'. The driver said he usually leaves it outside the tack room.’
‘It can't be. This is way too much. Gran has about a fifth of this. And none of this expensive stuff.’ He picked up a tub and read the label. ‘'Electrolyte supplement for the performance horse.' I don't even know what it is. And look at the price - nearly twenty quid! Gran hasn't ordered this.’
Poppy felt the colour drain from her face. ‘But it was all on the order form, Sam. The man from Baxters' showed me before I signed for it. Bella must have changed the order.’
‘You signed for it?’ Sam's eyebrows shot up. ‘This is going to cost hundreds of pounds. There's no way Gran can afford it, especially at the moment.’
‘I'm sorry,’ Poppy said in a small voice. ‘I thought I was doing the right thing. I should have come and found you.’
‘It's not your fault. I'll phone Baxters' now. Explain there's been some sort of a mix-up. I'm sure they'll sort it out.’
‘I'll do Star,’ she offered.
Sam handed her Star's reins and Poppy led the mare over to the tie ring outside her stable.
‘I feel terrible,’ she whispered as she untacked Star and ran a body brush over her gleaming coat. The mare whickered as Sam tramped over from Bella's office.
‘Any luck?’ Poppy asked.
He shook his head. ‘They have an exchange policy on tack and rugs, but not on food.’ He rested his head on Star's flank and stared at the mountainous pile of feed and supplements. ‘Looks like we're stuck with it.’
After dinner Poppy took a mug of hot chocolate and a carrot out to the yard, her eyes on Cloud's borrowed stable. She whistled softly and his head appeared over the stable door. He watched her cross the yard, his silver grey ears pricked. She offered him the carrot and he crunched it noisily while she opened the stable door and settled in the straw to drink her hot chocolate.
She still felt bad about the Baxters' order, although Sam had told her not to blame herself. If only she had checked with him before she'd signed the order form. She had offered to use her savings to buy half a dozen of the tubs of supplements, joking that she would have the shiniest, calmest, least hormonal gelding with the healthiest digestive system and hooves ever seen. But Sam had told her not to be silly and that Bella would sort it all out when she was back.
‘And I haven't spent any time with you today, have I Cloud?’ she said, kissing his nose. ‘It's just been manic.’ It was true. She had hardly stopped. Her back and shoulders ached from hefting bales of straw and wheelbarrows of muck and despite five minutes spent scrubbing with a nail brush until the tips of her fingers were pink her nails were still black with grime. And tomorrow it would start all over again.
‘Whoever says that working with horses is easy should give it a try for a few days. It's like painting the Forth Bridge.’ Cloud nuzzled Poppy's hand, which still smelt enticingly of carrots. She scratched his forehead. ‘It takes so long that by the time you've finished you have to start all over again.’
Realising Poppy didn't have any more titbits, Cloud sank to the floor and lay down in the straw. Poppy snuggled up close and sighed contentedly.
‘We'll try and get out for a ride tomorrow,’ she promised him. ‘Just you and me.’
Poppy was letting herself in the back door when the phone started ringing. When no-one answered she picked up the extension in the kitchen, expecting another wrong number. She almost jumped out of her skin when Vile Vivienne began screeching down the phone.
‘I phoned the farrier and there was no crash! He said Bella cancelled his visit. Well, she had no right. I have been working towards tomorrow's qualifier for the last six months. Six months! And she's ruined my chances. But worse than that, I have been lied to. I will put up with a lot, but I will not tolerate lying. I shall be removing Ariel from the yard.’
‘But -’ began Poppy.
‘And in the light of what's happened I consider my contract with Redhall to be null and void. I will not be giving one month's notice. Please have him ready at ten o'clock in the morning.’
The line went dead. With a sinking heart Poppy headed for the lounge to break the bad news.
Chapter Five
Poppy woke early to the chatter of magpies. She squinted at her watch. Ten to five. She closed her eyes and tried to empty her brain so she could drift back into unconsciousness. But a shaft of sunlight that had slunk through a crack in the curtains l
ike a cat burglar flitting through a heavily-alarmed art gallery played on her eyelids, banishing any chance of sleep.
Sighing, Poppy threw off her duvet and grabbed a clean teeshirt and pair of jodhpurs from her case. As she did she glanced at Scarlett. Her best friend's auburn hair was fanned around her face, her duvet was tucked under her chin and she was breathing deeply. She didn't look like she would be waking up anytime soon.
Poppy picked an apple from the fruit bowl and scribbled a note on an old envelope. Gone for a ride. Will be back by seven. She found her jodhpur boots in the tangle of wellies and riding boots by the back door and went in search of her pony.
Cloud must have had a sixth sense. When Poppy burst out of the back door, the apple between her teeth, he was watching over his stable door as if he'd been expecting her. He whickered and she scratched behind his ear, took a last bite of apple and gave him the rest.
Poppy reached under the flowerpot brimming with pale pink geraniums for the key to the tack room, plonked her hat on her head and carried Cloud's saddle and bridle to his stable. He shook his head impatiently as she tacked him up. Blaze, Star, the riding school ponies and the liveries all watched with interest as she led the Connemara over to the mounting block, tightened his girth, pulled down his stirrups and swung into the saddle. Soon they were turning out of the yard towards the moor.
They crossed the road outside the riding school and followed the rutted track they'd ridden along on Bella's first fateful trek to Barrow Tor. So much had happened since the accident it seemed like another life, yet it was only two days ago. An unwelcome memory of Merry pitching forwards as her hind leg disappeared down the rabbit hole swam in front of Poppy's eyes and she shook it away. The last thing she wanted to do was re-live that terrible morning. Instead she fixed her eyes on Cloud's pricked grey ears and tried to forget.
Ahead an orange sun smouldered behind the purple and grey horizon. Behind her the moon was fading in the early morning sky like a footprint in wet sand. The air smelt fresh, cold and clean and Poppy breathed deeply. Gradually she felt the tension of the last forty-eight hours ease from her shoulders. Her thoughts turned to Scott. Scarlett seemed in awe of Bella's godson but Poppy had been relieved to discover within minutes of meeting him that she was totally immune to his charms. He was way too smooth for her liking. And his laidback attitude to his new responsibilities irritated her. He was supposed to be helping, yet he'd barely lifted a finger while the rest of them worked their socks off to keep the yard running like clockwork. And she hated the way he belittled Sam.
Sam had got his own back the night before. As they'd sat down to eat Sarah's legendary fish pie, Scarlett had asked Scott how he'd chipped his front tooth.
Scott had run his tongue along the offending tooth and given them a rueful smile.
‘An argument with a feisty gelding,’ he said mysteriously.
‘At the showjumping yard in Exeter?’ Scarlett asked, impressed.
Sam snorted with laughter and Scott shot him a filthy look.
‘Not exactly. He fell off Treacle,’ Sam smirked.
‘Our Treacle?’ said Poppy. She couldn't imagine Scott atop the diminutive Welsh pony that Bella used for Redhall's beginners, despite his uncanny knack of dumping most of them in the nearest puddle while they were out on a hack. With a stomach the size of a barrel and an evil glint in his eye, the chestnut Section A gelding shared more than a passing resemblance to a Thelwell pony and was definitely not as sweet as his name suggested. It was a wonder the beginners came back for more.
‘I was eight at the time,’ Scott clarified. ‘I learnt to ride on him. And he can buck like a bronco when he's in the mood, you know.’
‘That's funny, I never had a problem with him,’ said Sam, looking more cheerful than he had all day.
Cloud reached the gate at the top of the track. Ahead was the lane that led to the farmhouse where Poppy had called for help. A bridleway to the right led back down to the riding school. Poppy's stomach rumbled and she checked her watch. Half past six. She turned him right.
‘Come on Cloud, let's go and get some breakfast.’
Poppy fed Cloud and Blaze and followed the smell of bacon that was wafting from the open kitchen window. As she heeled off her jodhpur boots by the back door a white van pulled into the yard. A woman wearing a royal blue apron let herself out of the driver's side and went around to the back of the van. Poppy pulled her boots back on and wandered over. Painted on the side in a curly script decorated with denim blue forget-me-knots were the words Fern's Flowers.
The woman in the apron appeared holding a huge bouquet of white lilies.
‘These are for Bella Thompson,’ she said.
‘They're beautiful,’ said Poppy. ‘She's not here at the moment but I can take them.’
The woman handed Poppy the bouquet. The scent they gave was cloying and Poppy rubbed her nose with the back of her hand to head off a sneeze.
‘There's a card in with them,’ said the woman, pointing to a small white envelope tucked between the stalks. She smiled sympathetically. ‘I'm sorry for your loss.’
What a strange thing to say, Poppy thought, as she carried the flowers into the kitchen. Sarah was standing by Bella's massive range cooker frying bacon.
‘Flowers?’ she asked, surprised.
‘They're for Bella,’ Poppy said. She fished around for the envelope and handed it to Sarah.
‘Perhaps Mum's got an admirer,’ Sarah joked. ‘I'm sure she won't mind me having a look to see who they're from.’
She used the bread knife to open the envelope and took out a card with a dove on the front. The knife slipped through her fingers and clattered to the floor. Her hand flew to her mouth.
‘What's wrong?’
‘It can't be right. They must have delivered them to the wrong address,’ she said.
‘The Ferns Flowers woman definitely said it was for Bella. Why, what does the card say?’
‘RIP,’ said Sarah faintly.
Poppy's mind went blank. ‘What does that stand for?’
‘Rest in Peace,’ said Sarah with a shiver.
‘That's what people say when someone's died, isn't it?’ said Scarlett, as they waited for Vile Vivienne to arrive to take Ariel to his new home.
Poppy nodded. ‘Sarah was a bit freaked out at first, and then she wondered if someone in the village had heard about her Great Auntie Margaret's fall and jumped to the wrong conclusion.’
Scarlett looked sceptical. ‘What, like Chinese whispers? Sounds unlikely to me.’
‘That's what I thought, too,’ said Poppy.
At ten o'clock on the dot a familiar-looking smart sky blue lorry pulled into the yard.
Poppy watched glumly from Paint's stable as Vile Vivienne jumped out of the passenger door and strode over to the office, her lips pursed. Another woman let herself out of the driver's side and began letting down the ramp. Poppy wracked her brains, trying to remember where she'd seen the lorry before. And then she noticed a small navy logo on the passenger door and groaned.
Vivienne emerged from the office with Scott trailing behind her.
‘Are you sure I can't persuade you to stay?’ he said half-heartedly.
Vivienne waved him away with her hand. ‘My mind is made up. I've been considering a move to Claydon Manor for a while. The facilities there put this place to shame. I only stayed out of misguided loyalty to Bella. But I will not be lied to. Fortunately Angela was more than happy to offer me a place.’
I bet she was, thought Poppy, watching Georgia Canning's former instructor fix partitions in the horse lorry. She walked down the ramp and looked around, unimpressed. She had cold grey eyes and a contemptuous look on her face, as if she had a permanent bad smell under her nose.
‘Where's the horse?’ she asked, looking around disdainfully.
Vile Vivienne pointed to Ariel's stable. His noble head appeared over the stable door and Vivienne's normally arch expression softened. She may be an old dragon but she does
love him, Poppy realised.
Sam appeared with Ariel's tack and grooming kit while Scarlett ran into the tack room to find his rugs. Soon the big black gelding had been loaded onto the lorry and it had pulled onto the Okehampton road bound for Tavistock.
‘Good riddance,’ said Scott. ‘That woman was as mad as a box of frogs if you ask me.’
‘She also paid through the nose for Gran's deluxe bespoke livery package. And now she's gone. And to Claydon Manor of all places,’ said Sam.
‘Chill out Samantha,’ mocked Scott.
‘Vivienne may have been vile, but she and Ariel have been here for years. Perhaps you'd like to phone Gran and let her know her oldest livery has gone.’ He shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘Actually don't bother. I'd rather break the news to her myself when she gets back from Great Auntie Margaret's. Just try not to lose us any more liveries will you?’
‘I don't know why he's so uptight,’ said Scott as Sam stomped over to the trailer, hooked it onto the quad bike and roared off towards the top paddocks.
Poppy stared at him in disbelief. ‘Because he's worried about Redhall's future!’ she spluttered. ‘Angela Snell has poached so many of Bella's liveries she's struggling to keep the place afloat. That's why she decided to start trekking holidays. But that's on hold after Niamh's accident. No wonder Sam's upset.’
Was that a glimmer of uncertainty flickering across Scott's face? Poppy wasn't convinced. But as she pushed the wheelbarrow towards the hay barn she hoped he might have finally got the message that all was not well at Redhall.
Chapter Six
Poppy and Scarlett were fluffing up the straw bed in Paint's stable when Sam appeared with three headcollars.
‘Where's Scott?’ he asked.
‘He went in to make us a cup of tea,’ said Scarlett.
