by Natale Ghent
“You’ll have to get down now, Queenie,” I say. “Ted Henry’s house is just up the street, and I have to talk to him about board.”
Queenie winces and sucks in her breath as I help her down. I kiss her on the forehead the way Ma always does, then lead Smokey across the road, Queenie and Cid walking beside me. The cars and lights make Smokey nervous. He tosses his head from side to side. I hold him tighter, just to be sure he doesn’t bolt.
On the sidewalk in front of Ted Henry’s house I hand the reins to Cid. “You and Queenie stay here while I go talk to him.” I try to sound confident when I say this, but I can’t help feeling nervous.
I walk up the stairs to the house and bang on the door. I wait for a bit and bang again. Noanswer. I look around at Cid and Queenie and shrug. Their faces are pale and grim in the light. I’m just about to bang a third time when the door opens with a whoosh!
Ted Henry is standing in front of me, sucking his teeth as though I pulled him away from the dinner table. He’s wearing a Labatt Blue T-shirt and a worn black baseball cap over his fuzzy brown hair. His fingers are stained brown with nicotine. He sizes me up, then looks at his watch to make me aware of how late it is. I know it’s after nine o’clock because the sun is nearly gone, but it can’t be helped.
“Waddya want?” he says.
“I’d like to rent a stall in your barn,” I say, as bravely as I can because I don’t like Ted Henry and I’m sure he doesn’t like me.
“For what?” he asks, like I’m up to no good.
“For our pony.” I wave my arm over at Smokey.
He cranes his head for a look, then sucks his teeth some more. “You got money?”
“Yes, sir.” I pull the wad of bills from my pocket.
“Ten dollars a month for a standing stall—no hay,” Ted Henry says. “Hay is 5 dollars extra.”
“We don’t need hay.” This isn’t entirely true.
We do need hay, but I’m sure I can buy it cheaper somewhere else. If I’m not careful, my money will be gone before I know it.
“I need three month’s up front. That’s 30 dollars. You got that, boy?”
I peel 30 dollars from my ball of money and hand it to him. He counts it twice, then folds it and puts it in his pocket. He seems pleased about the money, and his voice takes on a different tone.
“First stall in the middle aisle. You can set him up in there.”
I thump down the stairs excitedly because I can’t believe it worked out. I’m so happy I almost forget the trouble we’re in. Until I look at Queenie’s face. You can tell she’s in pain, and the lump on her collarbone looks bigger and angrier than before.
“Where did you get all that money?” Cid starts in on me like she always does.
Normally I would come back at Cid with something smart when she jumps on me like this, but I’m too tired for a fight. I just tell her the truth. “I saved it from my paper route. Come on. We have to get Smokey settled and get home as fast as we can.”
I help Queenie back onto the pony. She moansa bit, but she doesn’t cry. It’s a good half-mile from Ted Henry’s house to the barn. We move as quickly as we can without causing Queenie any more discomfort. While we’re walking, a couple of cars slow almost to a stop, then drive on. Cid and I exchange glances.
“They must be looking at Smokey,” I say.
When we get to the top of the hill, we stop to stare at our old house on Forest Road. Or what’s left of it. A tornado tore the roof off a couple of years after we moved out. Then some kids set fire to it and gutted the insides—at least, what the rain and snow hadn’t already destroyed.
We loved that old stone house, even though we only lived there for six months and we all agreed it must be haunted. The cellar had a dirt floor and nobody ever wanted to go down there—not even Ma. Sometimes, late at night, we could hear funny noises and whispers in the walls. Even so, we loved it. It was the first place we ever lived in Canada—back in 1972. Dad rented it for us, when things were still good and hopeful. It was a temporary place to live until our big yellow house was ready on the outskirts of town. We moved to Eastview because Dad was supposed to go partners with his brother in the pool-digging business. They were going to makepots of money, he said. So we left our home and all our relatives and friends in Illinois for some southern Ontario pipe dream of Dad’s that never panned out.
There was a shed out back where we kept our ponies, and a small fieldstone house behind, where hired help would have lived in better times. There were two bathrooms in the big house: a huge one with a claw-foot tub and a window that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, and a tiny closet with just a toilet inside. The closet toilet was so small you couldn’t even shut the door, because your knees got in the way. There was an old cherry banister in the house that corkscrewed from the top of the stairs to the bottom. The rungs were old and loose and the banister swayed and creaked like it was going to snap off and break our necks when we slid down for dinner.
I got very sick in the stone house once. I was so sick, Ma let me sleep in her bed to keep an eye on me. I was delirious with fever and I saw things that weren’t there. I even thought I saw Dad come through the bedroom door, a big smile on his face, even though I knew he was back in the States by then. He brought me different kinds of jelly in little round jars and a small glass paperweight with an American flag inside. The flagwas made of red, white and blue rhinestones that glittered like diamonds. Of course it wasn’t real, but it seemed that way at the time. I asked Ma about it for days.
We spent our first Canadian Christmas in this house. Dad got us a Christmas tree that reached right to the ceiling—over twelve feet high! It had tiny pine cones on the ends of its branches and it was the most beautiful tree we’d ever seen. When I think of it now, I think the tree was Dad’s way of saying sorry for what he was going to do, because we didn’t see much of him after that. Ma told us he had to stay back in Illinois to sell our place there. So we moved into the big yellow house without him. He came once in a while, but he never stayed for long. I can’t help thinking about him now, off with some other woman, having fun with his new family. I don’t know if any of this is true. But I feel sick just thinking about it—him having more kids with someone else and leaving us behind. Ma tried as hard as she could to make things okay. She even let us live on peanut butter and honey crackers, and milkshakes, which Dad never would have allowed. And then we had to sell the yellow house and move into something more “affordable” in town, which is where we live now….
Smokey tugs on the reins and drags me back from remembering. He’s sniffing the air excitedly, smelling the other horses in the barn.
“You’d better get off now, Queenie. Smokey might get a bit rammy when he sees the other horses.”
I help her down and slip my hand through the bridle. The other horses hear us and start to whinny. Smokey pricks up his ears and whinnies back. I walk quickly beside him, the horses calling back and forth. When we reach the barn I stop in front of the door.
“Open it,” I say to Cid. “See if you can find the light.”
“What if Clem is in there?”
“For Pete’s sake, just do it!”
“Why don’t you do it?”
“Fine, you big chicken. Come here and hold Smokey.” I hand her the reins, but not without giving her the meanest look yet. “Don’t let him go.” I lean toward her and cluck like an old hen just to bug her.
Cid frowns but doesn’t say anything as she takes the reins.
I walk over to the barn. I fumble with the latch, which is kind of rusty, but finally manage to get it open. I have to admit, I’m scared of seeing Clemtoo, but no matter what happens, we have to get Smokey set up for the night. The door opens with a creak and I peer inside. I can hear the horses shifting in their stalls. I reach my hand out along the wall and feel for the switch. Something fuzzy brushes against my hand and my ears are suddenly filled with a high-pitched scream!
chapter 5
a big mess
I pull my arm back like it’s been scalded with boiling water. I think Clem’s ghost has hold of me, and I stumble and push away from the door.
“What’s happening?” Cid shrieks. “Get out of there!”
My hand is bumped again, but this time I realize it’s only a piece of old rope and the scream I heard was my own. “It’s nothing, I’m fine,” I call out. My heart is pounding like a drum in my chest, so hard it feels like it’s going to burst right through my shirt. I reach in again, the rope nudging my hand as I fumble with the switch.
The bulb casts an eerie light across the barn. I look around quickly to make sure Clem isn’t glaring down at me from some beam up in the ceiling. The horses stare back at me with curiosity. Clem is nowhere to be seen. A radio is softly playing from somewhere in the back of the barn. I breathe a sigh of relief and laugh at my silliness.
“Okay, bring Smokey in.”
Cid leads Smokey into the barn, Queenie in tow. She has her hand on Smokey’s neck again.
“Let Smokey go,” I tell her. “I don’t want him hurting you if he gets too excited by the other horses.”
Queenie moves over to where I’m standing. Smokey greets the other horses with a low, excited nicker. The horses stretch their necks over their stalls, sniffing the air. We move along the far aisle to reach the stalls in the middle of the barn. A big chestnut gelding with the name Flag tacked over its stall pins back his ears when Smokey walks by. Smokey pays no attention.
I open the stall door and Cid walks Smokey inside. She lets him sniff around a bit before removing his bridle and halter. The pony is curious and calm, not at all wild like you would expect a stallion to be. He nuzzles the water bowl. It’s empty and dry. I push on the mechanism with my hand, but no water comes out.
“What do you expect for 10 dollars a month?” I grumble.
Queenie perches like a bird on the edge of a concrete trough while Cid looks for a bucket.
“I’m going to get some hay,” I tell them.
“From where?” Cid asks.
“From the loft, where do you think?”
“Did you pay for it?”
I ignore her and climb the rickety ladder to the loft. I have no idea how much hay there will be. There used to be lots of it here when we were kids. When I reach the loft I let my eyes adjust to the light. I can see the stars through the slats in the barn walls. To my relief, there is a big pyramid of hay stacked almost to the ceiling and lots of loose hay all over the floor—just like I remember. In fact, it’s probably the same hay. It’s obviously old and smells a bit mouldy. I can’t believe Ted Henry wanted to charge us for it. I gather a big handful of the loose hay, inspect it for mould, then toss it down the hole to the floor. I find some straw and throw it down too. By the time I climb down the ladder, Cid has filled Smokey’s feed bin with hay and spread the straw on the floor of his stall with her feet. Smokey is drinking out of a red plastic bucket that Cid found and filled with water.
“There’s tons of hay up there,” I tell her. “No one will even miss it. Besides, half of it is mouldy. We’ll have to be careful not to feed Smokey any of the rotten stuff.”
“You’re just going to take it?”
“There’s tons of it!”
Cid stares at me reproachfully, then holds up a small wooden box.
“I found this too,” she says.
The brushes and hoof picks that the daffodil lady gave us are arranged neatly inside. Queenie watches from her perch on the trough, her face pale and serious.
I nod with approval, then sprinkle water on Smokey’s hay.
“Can we get him a plaque with his name on it?” Queenie asks. This is the first thing she’s said in hours. “There’s a lady at the fair who makes them.”
“You don’t know that she’ll be there this year,” Cid says.
“We’ll get him one,” I say. “But we’d better get home now. Smokey is all settled in. He’ll be fine until we can come back tomorrow after school.”
I’d like to stay to make sure Smokey is okay, or to look at the other horses, but I know Queenie’s collarbone must be sore and we have to get home. Besides, Ma’s used to us going off on our own, but we’ve never been out this late without telling her where we were going.
I secure the latch on the stall. Smokey watches us as we move along the aisle. I stop to admire him one more time. He looks serene and almostunreal standing there. I feel my heart swell up in my chest. I watch him for a little while longer before I click off the light and close the barn door.
We make our way down the lane in silence. I don’t think any of us can believe the pony is ours. The whole day seems like a crazy dream. I look over at Queenie. Her lips are pursed and she’s got one hand on her sore shoulder. I put my arm around her waist. “We’ll be home soon.”
When we reach the road, a passing car slows down, then drives on. Right after that, another car slows down and the driver looks at us too. Maybe they’re wondering why Queenie looks so bad, I think. Or maybe they’re just wondering what three kids are doing this far outside of town this late at night. I wave to let them know that we’re fine. The second car stops. The driver rolls down her window and sticks her head out.
“You those Estabrooks kids?”
I nod because I know not to talk to strangers.
“You kids are in a heap of trouble. It’s all over the radio. The whole town is looking for you. Your mother is worried sick.”
The radio? That’s why those cars were slowing down to look at us. Now I know we’re done. Ma’s been worried before but she’s never called the radio station. Usually she just puts on herhouse robe and starts walking up the street to find us….
“What’s wrong with that girl?” the woman demands, pointing at Queenie.
“Nothing. She’s fine. We’re just on our way home now.”
“You’d better get in the car. I don’t want your mother worrying any more.”
I hesitate because I’m thinking it might not be safe. Cid looks at me and we both look at Queenie. “Come on,” I say. “It can’t get much worse than this.”
We shuffle over to the car and I help Queenie in and snap her seat belt on.
“We live at 251 Light Stree—” I start to say, but the woman cuts me off.
“I know full well where you live. Everyone knows where you live now. You kids must be out of your minds tearing around ‘til all hours. If you were my kids, I’d teach you a thing or two.”
I’m tempted to smart back at the woman, but think better of it. “Yes, ma’am,” I say, hoping this will appease her. But it doesn’t. She just keeps at us, and I suppose we deserve it.
“It’s hard enough trying to keep a house going under the best circumstances, let alone when a woman is fending for herself. You kids must sitaround thinking of ways to drive your mother crazy.”
She natters on and on like this the whole way home. I nod once in a while to let her know I’m minding, but Cid and Queenie just stare at the floor of the car. I’d like to stare at the floor of the car too, but somebody has to take responsibility.
To my horror, Ma’s waiting on the porch smoking a cigarette. I haven’t seen her smoke since we lived in Illinois. She throws the cigarette to the ground and rushes over to the car, pulling the tie of her robe tight around her. I don’t have to look at her to tell she’s hysterical. I’m not even out of the car before she starts boxing and slapping me on the head.
“What are you trying to do to me? What’s the matter with you? I was worried sick. The whole town is out looking for you. I had to call the radio just to find you. Do you know how embarrassed I am? You’re just like your father. You’re going to kill me!”
I put my hands up to cover my face. I try to explain, but I can’t get a word in edgewise with Ma cuffing me like that. She hits me so hard my ears start to ring and I feel like I’m going to be sick. The woman in the car just sits there watching, and I hate her for being so nosy. I wish she would drive away and leave us alone.
“I’m sorry, Ma. We didn’t mean to scare you….”
Ma’s sobbing into her hands like she’ll never stop. I’ve only heard her cry like this once before, and that’s when Dad left us. I feel so ashamed I can’t even look at her. Ma keeps sobbing until she sees Queenie.
“Good God, what happened to you, child?” She rushes over to Queenie.
Queenie finally breaks down because she is tired and scared and she can’t be strong any more, not with Ma crying and all.
“What have you done to her?” Ma screams at me.
“It was an accident…. She fell.”
Ma runs her hands over Queenie. “My baby, my poor baby …”
Cid is crying now too, but softly, sniffling into her shirt, her face crumpled like an old tin can. She moves over to where I am and we stand mutely watching.
The woman in the car offers to drive Queenie and Ma to the hospital. They get in the car and drive off, leaving Cid and me standing in front of the house.
chapter 6
I run away
“They’ve been gone for an awfully long time,” Cid says, looking out the living room window. “I hope Queenie is okay. I’ve never seen Ma so mad before. I thought she was going to kill you.”
They had been gone a long time. I’m concerned about Queenie, but I have to admit, I’m not in any hurry to face Ma. I don’t mind so much that she hit me. I was more embarrassed than anything else. But I’m sorry that I made Ma worry so much. I never want to be like my dad.
While we are waiting for Ma and Queenie to return, I wash my knee in the sink. After the blood is cleaned up I can see that the dog only grazed the skin. It isn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. “We’ll have to tell Ma about Smokey when they get back,” I say, trying to thread a needle to fix the tear in my pants. My fingers feel like a tangle of thumbs and the thread goes everywhere except through the needle. Cid grabs it from me and threads it as easily as if the needle were the size of a wooden spoon, then hands it back to me.
