by Amanda Wills
‘Oh my God!’ she shrieked, all thoughts of staying concealed forgotten. ‘Why did you creep up on me like that?’
‘Sorry,’ said Scarlett defensively. ‘And I wasn’t creeping up on you. I was leading your pony over because I want to go home. My feet are frozen and I’m worried Red’ll catch a chill and there’s clearly no-one here. The place is deserted.’
‘You’re right,’ Poppy sighed. ‘Good job I didn’t call the police, isn’t it? I’d have looked a proper muppet. C’mon, let’s go home.’
Poppy took Cloud’s reins from Scarlett and was edging her toe into the stirrup when she froze.
‘What’s that noise?’ she hissed.
‘What noise?’ said Scarlett impatiently. ‘I can’t hear a thing.’
‘That noise. Listen!’
Poppy felt her insides turn to ice. From somewhere near her feet she could hear the unmistakable sound of someone’s knuckles rapping against a window. She clutched Cloud’s neck, shrinking into his solid bulk. Scarlett was hopping around on one foot while Red, terrified by the noise, spun round and round.
‘Steady boy,’ she coaxed, eventually managing to clamber on. ‘Poppy, can we please go!’
But Poppy was leading Cloud towards the tapping sound. She couldn’t leave until she knew what it was. It seemed to be coming from beneath her feet. And then she saw something she hadn’t noticed before – a tiny window behind a metal grill a few inches from the ground.
‘Did you know Flint Cottage had a cellar?’ she asked Scarlett, who was still trying to calm Red.
She shook her head. ‘Poppy –’
Ignoring her, Poppy bent down and reached through the grill. The wooden window frame was as rotten as old fruit. She ran her fingers under it and gave it a tug. It opened a fraction.
Poppy knelt on the ground. ‘Georgia!’ she whispered urgently. ‘Is that you?’
Chapter Twenty-One
For a moment, all Poppy could hear was the beating of her own heart. Then a croaky voice whispered back, ‘Is that the police?’
‘Er, not exactly. It’s me, Poppy McKeever. And Scarlett,’ she added.
‘Brilliant,’ muttered the voice. Poppy jumped as the window flapped open. And then her jaw dropped as she saw Georgia’s face staring back at her through the bars of the grill. There were dark circles under her china-blue eyes and an angry red welt on her temple. Her normally glossy black hair was lank and greasy.
‘Is it her?’ called Scarlett.
‘Of course it’s me!’ Georgia hissed. ‘You need to get me out of here before they come back.’
Poppy found she was rooted to the spot. ‘Before who comes back?’
‘Ricky and Bev. They’ve gone to get a Chinese takeaway. I heard them talking about it. They’ve been gone ages. They could be back at any minute!’
‘Meet me by the back door. I’ll see if I can force it open,’ said Poppy.
‘I’m locked in the cellar, you idiot! Don’t you think I might have tried to get out before now otherwise?’
It seemed that even being kidnapped hadn’t rubbed away any of Georgia’s prickliness. Poppy felt a fleeting sympathy for her captors. She scrambled to her feet and handed Scarlett her reins.
‘Call the police, Scar, and I’ll see if I can break in.’
The back door was half-glazed. Thanking her lucky stars it wasn’t a new uPVC door with toughened glass, Poppy looked around frantically, pouncing on a broken brick laying half-hidden in the undergrowth. Turning her face away from the door, she smashed the brick against the glass. It shattered like ice, leaving a circle of jagged shards like the jaws of a great white shark.
‘Be careful, Poppy!’ Scarlett shouted. She had jumped off Red and was holding both ponies in one hand and her mobile in the other.
‘Tell them it’s an emergency,’ Poppy panted, and turned back to the door. She used the brick to smash a bigger hole and felt inside for the door handle.
‘Please let the key be in the lock,’ she muttered. The fates were being kind. Her fingers closed around the key and she turned it carefully. The last thing she needed was for it to fall onto the floor out of reach. The door now unlocked, she pulled the handle and gave it a shove. It didn’t budge.
Poppy shot an anxious look at Scarlett.
‘It might be bolted,’ Scarlett mouthed, pointing to the top of the door. Poppy groaned.
‘Are you coming?’ shouted Georgia. The supercilious tone had been replaced by one of rising panic.
Poppy ran back to the cellar window. ‘Can you remember if the back door was bolted?’
Georgia was clutching the bars of the grill. Her knuckles were the same alabaster-white as her face. ‘I don’t know! They blindfolded me. Can’t you kick it in?’
Poppy shook her head. ‘I suppose I can try.’
She balanced on her left leg and jabbed with her right, but the door stayed stubbornly shut. This was useless. She needed to open the bolt.
She knocked the rest of the broken glass out of the window and stood on tiptoes, but the top of the door was tantalisingly out of reach. She remembered the milk crate. Huffing as she pulled it out of the brambles, she set it on its side against the back door, hopped onto it and scrabbled blindly for the bolt.
‘Yesss!’ said Poppy as the bolt slid open. She opened the door and ran into the house. ‘Georgia!’ she yelled. ‘Where are you?’
Poppy couldn’t ever remember seeing a cellar door in Flint Cottage. Where would it be? She ran into the kitchen and came face to face with a white painted door. She used two hands to haul it open. But it was a pantry, empty apart from an old kettle and a lonely tin of peaches.
She was on her way to the lounge when she noticed the cupboard under the stairs. It was bolted top and bottom. Her heart thumping in her chest, she slid the bolts across and wrenched open the door.
At once she was hit by a damp, musty smell and the welcome sight of steep brick steps leading down. Poppy took the steps two at a time. They led to a tiny cellar, no more than eight foot by six foot, lit by the single bar of an electric fire. Against one wall was a green camp bed. On the floor beside it was a half-empty two litre bottle of water and the remains of a microwave meal. Georgia was still gazing out of the tiny window, a cheap nylon sleeping bag around her shaking shoulders.
‘Georgia?’ said Poppy uncertainly. ‘Are you OK?’
The older girl slowly turned to face Poppy. She was still wearing her show jacket and jodhpurs, although the once-white material was black with filth. Tears were coursing down her cheeks. ‘I thought I was going to die in here. Ricky has a gun, you see. And he gets really angry.’ She touched the mark on her temple and lowered her eyes.
‘You’re safe now,’ Poppy said, with as much confidence as she could muster. ‘Scarlett is on the phone to the police. They’ll be here any minute. But we should get out of the cellar. Come on.’
Poppy was halfway up the steps when she heard the whine of an engine in the distance. Georgia cried out as if she’d been struck and cringed against the wall.
‘They’re back!’ she whispered.
Her terror was infectious and Poppy’s insides turned to liquid. But she couldn’t afford to panic. ‘Georgia! We’ve got to go!’ she shouted.
They sprinted up the cellar steps towards the back door. Poppy doubled back and slid the bolts closed. As soon as they saw the smashed glass the kidnappers would know Georgia had gone, but anything that gave them even a few seconds’ advantage was worth doing.
Scarlett flung Cloud’s reins at Poppy and jumped on Red. ‘I had no signal,’ she shrieked. ‘And I can see a car coming!’
Georgia was staring at the two ponies as if she was in a trance.
‘I’ll get on first, then you get on the back,’ ordered Poppy. It was a good job Cloud was used to Charlie riding behind her, she thought, as she lowered a hand to Georgia and pulled her into the saddle.
Headlights snaked around the side of the house and Red whinnied in fear. Georgia’s arms felt a
s tight as a seatbelt around Poppy’s waist.
‘OK?’ she said.
‘Please, just go,’ Georgia begged.
Poppy kicked Cloud into a canter and he flew through the hole in the fence, Red on his tail.
As they fled down the dirt track behind the two cottages Poppy allowed herself to think for one foolish moment that they were safe.
Until the truck rounded the corner with a furious roar and the two fleeing ponies were caught in its headlights. The truck sped towards them, its engine whining under the strain. And she realised just how much danger they were in.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Poppy made a decision she hoped she wouldn’t regret.
‘We need to split up,’ she shouted to Scarlett. ‘You go straight to ours and call the police. We’ll head for the Riverdale woods. They’ll never get the truck in there.’
Scarlett was trying to control Red, who was plunging and leaping like a bucking bronco, the whites of his eyes showing. She nodded and gave the gelding his head. He galloped into the night, his flaxen tail streaming behind him like a wisp of smoke.
‘Stay safe,’ Poppy called, even though she knew Scarlett would never hear over the noise of the revving engine. She kicked Cloud into a canter.
Poppy had been grateful for the supermoon when they’d set off for Flint Cottage, but now she longed for cloudy skies. The moon shone with such luminosity the moor was bathed in silver light, and she felt as exposed as a field mouse being hunted by a kestrel. Behind them the truck’s diesel engine whined and spluttered as the driver – Poppy assumed it was Ricky – floored the throttle.
‘They’re getting closer!’ cried Georgia. Poppy crouched low over the saddle and Cloud lengthened his stride until he was galloping full pelt, his neck stretched in front of him like a racehorse.
She tried to remember the lie of the land. Was there a river they could cross to escape Georgia’s kidnappers? A memory of Beau and their race through the night after the storm at Oaklands flickered on the edge of her consciousness. They had nearly drowned that night. Scrub the river idea, she thought wildly.
Georgia was clutching Poppy so tightly she felt as if all the air was being squeezed out of her lungs.
‘Faster!’ Georgia urged, her breath hot on Poppy’s neck.
They were galloping alongside the old stone wall on the edge of the Blackstone farm. By Poppy’s reckoning it petered out in half a mile or so, but if they veered sharp left and jumped it now they stood a chance of losing the truck and reaching the Riverdale wood and safety. Poppy knew Cloud could turn on a sixpence – hadn’t he proved it in the jump-off at Claydon? – but could she ask him to jump a solid stone wall at a ridiculously-tight angle with two people on his back? Did she have any choice?
‘Hold on tight,’ she told Georgia. She sat down in the saddle and gave a half-halt. ‘Steady boy,’ she murmured. Cloud’s ears flicked back and his pace slowed. ‘Ready?’ she asked. She felt the older girl nod. Poppy half-halted again and turned Cloud on his quarters. The wall loomed before them. He managed one short stride before tucking his legs under him and taking off. Poppy felt a whoosh of cold air as they flew over the wall. He landed neatly on the other side and picked up a canter. Georgia loosened her grip a fraction and Poppy sucked in air gratefully.
She held her reins in one hand and patted her pony’s neck over and over. ‘You clever, clever boy.’
It wasn’t long before Poppy could see the dark outline of the Riverdale wood. Cloud was breathing hard and fast and she could tell he was beginning to tire. She chanced a look back. The headlights of the truck were half-hidden by the old stone wall.
‘Nearly there,’ she crooned to her pony. Still he thundered on. She stared at his pricked ears until they were blurry with tears. She had asked the impossible and he had willingly delivered. He always did.
He plunged into the darkness of the wood and Poppy slowed him to a walk. It would be beyond foolhardy to try to canter through the trees at this time of night. Cloud shook his head and Poppy let her reins slide through her fingers. He was still blowing hard.
‘We should get off, give him a breather,’ she told Georgia.
‘But what if they find us?’
‘I think we’ve lost them. I can’t see the headlights any more, can you?’
Poppy halted Cloud and both girls slid off. Poppy ran the stirrups up and loosened the girth a couple of notches. She looked around, trying to get her bearings. In the distance she could hear the unmistakable sound of running water. They must be close to the stream. Georgia was shivering. Poppy took off her coat and handed it to the older girl, who took it gratefully. Poppy gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘It’s not far now.’
They walked in silence through the trees, one either side of Cloud. When they reached the stream they turned left and followed it as it curved and dipped through the trees.
‘This is where I first saw Cloud,’ said Poppy, when they reached a small beach.
‘What do you mean?’
‘He was running wild on the moor. Had been for years. He escaped from the Blackstone farm, too.’
Georgia shuddered. Poppy thought she heard a small sob, but it could have been the soughing of the wind in the trees.
‘You OK?’ she asked.
Georgia gave a tiny shrug. ‘Not really. How did you know where I was?’
‘I didn’t know for sure. It was a lucky guess.’
‘But how did you even know I had been kidnapped? I heard Ricky on the phone to my parents. He said if they told anyone I’d be –’ she left the sentence hanging in the air.
‘The police know. And Angela.’ Georgia’s face was stricken. ‘But no-one else,’ Poppy added hastily. ‘Apart from Scarlett. And she’d never tell.’
‘Why didn’t they come for me?’ Georgia’s usually clipped voice was pitifully feeble.
‘They had no idea where you were.’ They reached a fallen tree trunk Poppy recognised. ‘We need to cross the stream here,’ she said. ‘It’s not deep.’
Georgia gasped as they plunged into the icy water. Cloud stopped in the middle and drank thirstily.
‘Not too much,’ said Poppy, who could no longer feel her feet. He lifted his head and nudged her gently.
They scrambled up the bank on the other side. Poppy wanted answers to the many questions buzzing around in her head.
‘Did they take you at the show?’
‘How did you know?’
‘You’re still in your riding gear.’
‘Remember when I saw you, just before your class? I was eating a hot dog.’
‘I remember. You said it was raw. We thought you’d got food poisoning and that’s why you didn’t jump.’
Georgia laughed bitterly. ‘If only I had. It was so disgusting I went to demand my money back. The man told me to wait in the back of the van while he found some change. The minute I stepped inside someone covered my mouth and nose with a handkerchief. I must have passed out because the next thing I knew I was locked in the cellar.’
‘They sedated you, like George Blackstone sedated Cloud,’ said Poppy wonderingly.
‘I woke up with a thumping headache. I was so angry. I knew I’d missed my class. Someone had tipped off Angela that Peter Frampton was going to be there. I wanted so badly to impress him. Who won?’
‘The open jumping? Sam.’
‘And I suppose he was picked for the team?’
‘First reserve,’ said Poppy.
Georgia gave a derisive snort.
Poppy raised her eyes to the sky. ‘What happened then?’
‘I banged and banged on the door of the cellar until this woman told me to belt up else Ricky would do his nut,’ mimicked Georgia in perfect Estuary English.
‘That was Bev?’ Poppy asked.
Georgia nodded. ‘She told me I’d be alright as long as my parents paid the two million ransom. Two million!’ She laughed hollowly. ‘They had no idea we’re stony broke.’
There’s s
tony broke and stony broke, thought Poppy drily. Not being able to afford to heat your mansion didn’t exactly mean you were penniless.
‘Bev was alright, actually,’ Georgia continued. ‘She made sure I had plenty to eat and drink. She even bought me a pack of cards so I could play Solitaire to pass the time. But Ricky, he was horrible. I think Bev was terrified of him, too. He was always having a go at her.’
Poppy laced her fingers in Cloud’s mane. ‘I thought Hope’s mum had something to do with it. That’s why we came to Flint Cottage. That’s where Hope and Shelley used to live.’
Georgia wheeled around to face her. ‘Did you say Shelley?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘I heard Bev talking on her mobile one morning while Ricky was out. She said, ‘It’s all going to plan, Shell. We should have the dough any day now.’’ Once again Georgia had the harsh tone and glottal stops of Bev’s accent to a tee.
Something clicked in Poppy’s brain and everything became clear. ‘Do you think Bev has been inside?’
‘Inside what?’ said Georgia irritably.
Poppy rolled her eyes. Georgia really had led a cosseted, sheltered life.
‘Inside prison. Because Shelley’s in a women’s prison in Gloucestershire. She knows your mum and dad won the lottery. How’s she to know they’ve spent all their winnings? What if she met Bev there? They could have concocted the plan to kidnap you and put it into action once Bev was released. With a little help from Bev’s shady boyfriend. And once your parents coughed up they probably planned to split the proceeds three ways. Shelley provided the insider information and the house. Bev and Ricky were the team on the ground. And I bet George Blackstone was in on it, too. You were the bigger fish he was planning to fry.’
The trees were thinning out and Cloud had quickened his stride, keen to be home after his late-night adventure.
‘Almost there,’ said Poppy, stifling a yawn.
