The Thirteenth Horse

by Amanda Wills

  ‘We’re going to introduce music next week,’ said Kristy as she trotted past. ‘I hope he’s alright with that.’

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ said Sofia. ‘You worry too much.’

  After their training session Kristy showed them the cardboard carrots she’d made for their snowmen noses.

  William was the first to try his on. ‘How do I look?’

  ‘It suits you,’ giggled Norah. She and Kristy pulled their noses on and began striking silly poses.

  Sofia cleared her throat. ‘I heard someone at school talking about the quadrille the other day. A girl in my year who rides at Coldblow.’

  The others fell silent.

  ‘They’re entering a team. Karen, the owner, has decided to train them herself. They practice on a Sunday afternoon. This girl, Elsa, was bragging about how good they were. They’re going as characters from Harry Potter, apparently. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Dumbledore.’

  ‘That’s not very wintery,’ sniffed Norah.

  ‘She reckons first prize is as good as theirs.’

  ‘That’s crazy. They don’t even know who else is entering,’ scoffed Kristy.

  William slid the carrot from his nose to the top of his head like a paper party hat. ‘Did you say they train on Sunday afternoons?’

  ‘Yeah, why?’

  ‘Let’s go and spy on them. Suss out the competition.’ His eyes were glinting roguishly, like they always did when he was planning a prank.

  ‘How are we going to talk our way in? None of us have ever been to Coldblow before,’ said Norah.

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ said Sofia. ‘Kristy has. She used to ride there. You can take us, can’t you Kristy?’

  15

  TOUGH COMPETITION

  K risty stood at the end of the immaculate Coldblow drive, which was flanked by immaculate horses grazing in immaculate paddocks, and turned to face the others.

  ‘What if I forget what to say?’

  ‘We’ve been through it a million times,’ said William patiently. ‘Tell Karen we’re looking to move our ponies to a new yard and you’d recommended Coldblow because it had such amazing facilities and such brilliant trainers. Everyone loves to be flattered.’

  ‘But what if she asks which yard you keep them at the moment?’

  ‘Tell her. If Karen and Emma hate each other as much as we think, she’ll be glad to steal three of her sister’s liveries,’ said Norah.

  ‘What if Elsa recognises Sofia?’ said Kristy, stalling for time.

  Sofia shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter. She knows I ride.’

  Kristy sighed and set off towards the yard, the others close behind. It had been months since she’d last been to Coldblow and she looked around her, seeing everything through a stranger’s eyes. It was as spotless as it had always been, not a wisp of hay or a curl of shavings out of place. Karen, Kristy remembered, was fanatical about tidiness, and would bawl her grooms out if they left so much as a bucket or a yard broom where it shouldn’t be. She had once been so impressed at the magazine-perfect yard, but it now felt cold and clinical compared to Mill Farm, where it didn’t matter if the stable doors needed painting and the concrete was crumbling, because the horses and ponies were cosseted and content.

  Kristy stopped. She could just make out strains of the Harry Potter theme tune coming from the direction of Coldblow’s massive indoor arena.

  ‘This way,’ she said.

  Unlike the indoor school at Mill Farm, which was really just an agricultural building converted into a makeshift menage, the indoor school at Coldblow was purpose-built with a full-size dressage arena and a small spectators’ gallery. Kristy opened the door to the gallery and the four children slipped inside.

  A tall woman wearing a hard hat and breeches was watching four identical dark bay ponies canter around the school, their strides matching the beat of the music perfectly. The two boys and two girls sat still and poised, their faces set in concentration as the woman barked orders at them.

  ‘That’s Karen,’ whispered Kristy.

  William’s eyes were wide. ‘She’s even bossier than Norah!’

  The riders split off on different reins, still riding beautiful collected canters. To Kristy they looked world-class, but Karen continued to pick faults. Their reins were too long, their shoulders too stiff, their backs not straight enough.

  Sofia nudged her. ‘They’re going to thread the needle.’

  They watched slack-jawed as the Coldblow team executed perfect flying changes as they crossed over at the diagonal, passing each other so closely that Kristy was convinced they were going to collide.

  The music was drawing to a crescendo and the riders had filed in behind each other as they cantered up the central line. Suddenly they peeled off into faultless pirouettes on alternate reins, the ponies appearing to dance to the music. Kristy realised she was holding her breath. It was spectacular.

  The Coldblow team stopped, gave mechanical bows to the non-existent judge and walked their ponies on loose reins around the school.

  ‘Wow, wow and double wow,’ said Sofia. ‘That was something else!’

  Norah shrugged. ‘It was OK. We can do better.’

  ‘We can’t, though, can we?’ said William despondently.

  Kristy grimaced. Karen was marching towards them.

  ‘Looks like we’ve been spotted,’ she muttered. She stood up and pasted a smile to her face. ‘Hello there!’

  ‘And you are -?’ Karen left the sentence dangling as she inspected them with narrowed eyes.

  ‘Kristy Moore. I used to ride here but I haven’t been for a while.’ Kristy recited the spiel she’d rehearsed about the others looking to move their ponies.

  Karen gave them a flinty-eyed smile. ‘And where do you keep them at the moment?’

  ‘Mill Farm Stables,’ said Norah. ‘It’s all a bit scruffy and amateurish down there to be honest. We’re looking for somewhere a bit more -’ she looked around her approvingly, ‘- professional.’

  ‘Mill Farm Stables?’ Karen repeated, her face clearing. ‘No wonder you want to move. I can tell you from experience that Emma Miller does not run a tight ship. She’s too soft to make a good businesswoman. Always was.’

  Norah was warming to her role and began listing Mill Farm’s shortcomings a bit too enthusiastically for Kristy’s liking. She also didn’t like the way Karen’s mouth curled contemptuously as she criticised her sister. What was wrong with being soft? Kristy loved the way Emma treated the Mill Farm horses like they were her own children. Looking after animals should be a vocation, not a job.

  ‘Do you give lessons?’ asked Sofia.

  ‘Only to the most able riders,’ sniffed Karen. ‘I have three other trainers who teach the rest.’

  ‘But you teach these four?’ Sofia waved her arm at the riders still walking their matching bays around the arena.

  Karen gave her a patronising smile. ‘This is my quadrille team. We’re perfecting their routine for the Mayor’s New Year’s Eve show.’

  ‘I heard about that,’ said William. ‘Competition’s going to be pretty fierce, by all accounts.’

  Karen gave a tinkle of laughter as brittle as breaking glass. ‘Oh, I don’t think so. They might as well engrave Coldblow’s name on the trophy now. No other team stands a chance.’

  ‘SHE’S SO ARROGANT!’ fumed Kristy as the four children trailed back down the drive. How dare she assume the trophy’s as good as hers?’

  ‘Because her team is amazing?’ Sofia replied glumly. ‘I mean, pirouettes and flying changes. How are we supposed to compete with that?’

  ‘I wonder if I would have been picked for the Coldblow team if we kept the ponies here,’ said Norah, half to herself.

  The others turned to her in horror.

  ‘Norah! How could you even think that?’ cried Kristy.

  ‘The team comes first, that’s what you said!’ said Sofia.

  William tutted. ‘Don’t ever have another go at me for not taking th
e competition seriously, sis.’

  Norah stopped and the others almost cannoned into her. ‘You’ve got to admit it’s all pretty impressive. And then there’s us, with our mis-matched ponies, our white onesies and our cardboard carrots. We’re going to look ridiculous.’

  Kristy’s eyes blazed dangerously. ‘No, we’re not! We just need to keep practising until we’re perfect. We stand just as much of a chance as they do.’

  ‘Kristy’s right,’ said William. ‘Think about it. Most people watching the show aren’t going to know much about horses. They probably won’t even notice the Coldblow team’s fancy dressage moves. They just want to be entertained.’ He ran a hand through his dark blond hair. ‘We need to do something that’s going to catch everyone’s attention. Something that’ll make us really stand out. Something unforgettable.’

  ‘Like what?’ said Sofia.

  William grinned at them all. ‘Leave it with me.’

  16

  THE ULTIMATION

  K risty was curled up on the sofa reading a feature on heavy horses in one of her old pony magazines when her mum sat down beside her and said in a serious voice, ‘We need to talk.’

  Kristy’s heart sank. She had a nasty feeling she knew what was coming. Her history teacher, Mr Peterson, had called her to one side at the end of their lesson the previous afternoon. A thin, bespectacled man with an unusually large Adam’s apple which bobbed up and down as he talked, he had laced his long bony fingers together and told her she needed to make more of an effort.

  ‘I get the impression that you’re a bright girl, Kristy. But your last assignment felt rushed and was filled with careless errors. I expect better.’

  To make matters worse, Mr Baker had told her off for daydreaming again. Just because she hadn’t been able to tell him which page of the textbook they were on. OK, so she might have lost concentration for a moment, but she had a lot on her mind.

  Her mum took the magazine from her lap and folded it neatly on the coffee table.

  ‘Your form teacher rang to say that a couple of teachers had concerns about your work. She asked if there were any problems at home. I was mortified.’

  Crow’s feet fanned out from her mum’s greeny-grey eyes and frown lines creased her forehead. Kristy realised that the last few months must have been tough on her, too. Dad losing his job, having to move away from all her friends, swapping her beloved family home for their cramped apartment on the other side of town. She looked weary and worried.

  ‘Sorry Mum,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I’ve just been a bit tired, that’s all.’

  ‘I knew this job would be too much on top of your schoolwork. You spend more time at those stables than you do at home. I’ve been talking to your father -’

  Kristy’s heart sank even further.

  ‘- and he’s convinced me that you should keep working at Mill Farm. He seems to think it’s good for you. But on two conditions.’

  Kristy felt light-headed with relief. ‘Anything.’

  ‘One, that you only ride on three mornings before school and just an hour on Sundays. We need some family time. And two, that you take more care over your schoolwork. Because I will be phoning your form teacher next week and if there is still even the slightest concern that your grades are slipping I will be banning you from the stables, OK?’

  ‘OK,’ said Kristy, nodding furiously.

  He mum patted her knee and gave a wan smile. ‘I know you think I’m being strict for the sake of it, but it’s for your own good, Kristy. School is important. You have the rest of your life to spend with horses.’

  KRISTY DECIDED NOT to tell the others about her mum’s ultimatum. There was no point. They were already helping as much as they could. As long as her schoolwork improved everything would be fine. And if that meant no television until her grades picked up then it was a small price to pay. So, while her parents watched a film that evening she took herself off to her bedroom, re-wrote her history assignment and revised for a maths test the next day. By nine o’clock she was cross-eyed with tiredness and fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

  On their way to Mill Farm the following morning Kristy thanked her dad for fighting her corner.

  ‘That’s OK, sweetheart. I know how much this job means to you. How are the rehearsals going?’

  ‘Cassius doesn’t mind the others passing him now, which is great, but I’m worried he might freak out when we try riding to music. William’s bringing along his CD player this morning so I’ll find out soon enough,’ she sighed.

  ‘Percherons are pretty unflappable, as I remember. I’m sure Cassius will be fine.’

  As Kristy tacked the black gelding up she wished she could share her dad’s confidence. The others had gone out of their way to help when Cassius had had his meltdown. They might not be so understanding if Kristy held them back again.

  As it was, she needn’t have worried. Cassius didn’t bat an eyelid when William turned on the CD player and the rich sound of classical music filled the indoor school. Jazz, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck. She skittered around the school, bumping into the others and throwing her head around, her eyes rolling dramatically. Her honey-coloured flanks were dark with sweat and she stared, boggle-eyed, at William’s CD player as if it was a scary monster that was about to eat her alive.

  ‘Steady Jazz,’ murmured Sofia, running her hand along the mare’s damp neck. But Jazz’s flight instinct had taken over. Her tail was tucked into her hindquarters as she crabbed sideways across the school, spooked at Copper and tucked her head between her front legs.

  ‘Be careful, she’s going to buck!’ cried Kristy, instinctively pushing Cassius towards the panicking mare.

  She and the twins watched in horror as Jazz body twisted into three enormous corkscrew bucks. Miraculously, Sofia managed to stay on. But the whites of Jazz’s eyes were still showing and Kristy could tell she wasn’t finished yet.

  ‘Turn the music off!’ Kristy yelled to William. He jumped off Copper and sprinted over to the CD player. Silence restored, Jazz planted all four feet on the ground and stood shuddering, her ears flicking back and forth as she tried to work out if she was still in danger.

  Cassius extended his neck and blew softly into the mare’s nose, as if he was reassuring her that she was safe, and gradually she stopped shaking.

  The four children looked at each other in silence. Sofia was the first to speak.

  ‘I’m so sorry. I had no idea she would react like that.’

  ‘It’s OK. It could have happened to any of them,’ said Kristy.

  ‘Just when we’d sorted Cassius,’ Norah sighed. ‘I’m beginning to think we’re destined to fail.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said her brother.

  Norah scowled. ‘I don’t remember any of the Coldblow team freaking out to the music while they were executing their perfect pirouettes, do you?’

  Kristy thought hard. ‘We need to desensitise Jazz to the music, like we desensitised Cassius to being passed by other horses.’

  ‘How are we going to do that?’ said Sofia.

  ‘Easy.’ Kristy turned to William. ‘Can Sofia borrow your CD player?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Jazz’s stable is next to the tack room, right? We need to leave the CD player on all night, playing on a loop. Quietly at first but getting louder and louder as she gets used to the music. I don’t think she was playing Sofia up. She was genuinely frightened. Once she knows the music’s not going to hurt her she’ll be fine, I’m sure of it.’

  Sofia shot Kristy a grateful look.

  Kristy grinned back. ‘Looking on the bright side, we now know that Jazz has natural rhythm.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Norah.

  ‘Didn’t you notice,’ Kristy giggled. ‘Her bucks were perfectly in time with the music.’

  THAT EVENING Kristy set the CD player up in the tack room. She found herself humming along to the music as she mucked out and filled haynets and water bu
ckets. Although the day had started badly, things had improved. After her extra revision the night before she’d only dropped two marks in her maths test. And Mr Peterson had nodded approvingly when she’d found him in his classroom after lunch and handed him her re-written assignment. She couldn’t wait to tell her mum.

  When she led Jazz in from the field the palomino mare stopped in the doorway of her stable and listened, snorting softly. But Kristy was ready, clicking her tongue encouragingly and waving a bucket under her nose. Jazz gave her head a shake and followed Kristy in. Soon she was munching her supper happily. With any luck she would learn to associate music with food and wouldn’t flip out again.

  Kristy walked down to see Cassius with a swing in her step. He whinnied when he saw her.

  ‘Is it me or the bucket you’re so pleased to see?’ she teased.

  When he had finished wolfing down his supper he wandered over and nibbled her pockets, hoping for an extra treat. She found a mint and he crunched it noisily before resting his head on her shoulder and blowing warm, minty breath into her ear.

  Kristy gave a sigh of contentment and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  ‘Hey Cassius, do you know what?’ she murmured. ‘I really think our run of bad luck has come to an end.’

  In the days that followed she wished that she could have taken back those words. Maybe if she hadn’t tempted fate everything would have been alright. Common sense told her not to be so fanciful. But when she was alone, mulling over what happened, the fear that it was somehow all her fault settled like a cold, hard stone in the pit of her stomach and refused to go away.

  17

  FRIDAY THE THIRTEENTH

  I t was Friday the thirteenth of December. An unlucky day, if you believed superstition. Kristy woke early, even though she wasn’t riding before school, and peered out of the window. It was raining heavily. Fat raindrops chased each other down the glass, and in the street below their apartment rivulets of water disappeared into the gutters as fast as a raging waterfall.