Phantom Horse 2: Phantom Horse Comes Home

by Christine Pullein-Thompson

  11

  The telephone was ringing. Dad was mowing the lawn and Mum had gone to the village shop to buy some butter.

  “You get it,” said Angus. “I’ve got to dig some potatoes for lunch.”

  I ran into the hall and picked up the receiver, and a voice said, “Hi there. It’s Wendy. We’ve arrived. We’re in Reading.”

  “In Reading?” I exclaimed. “Already?”

  “Sure. The plane landed early.”

  “We’ll come and fetch you. We’ll be there in about forty minutes, allowing for traffic holdups,” I said, wondering if there would be enough lunch for them all.

  “Don’t be nuts,” cried Wendy. “Dad’s getting a hire car for us right now. I say, isn’t your little island cute? I love your hedges but there’s more barbed wire than we’ve got back home.”

  “Sure,” I answered.

  “Here’s Pete,” Wendy said. There was a sound of giggling and Pete took over. “Hiya, Jean,” he said. “We sure like it over here; it’s some place. Here’s the old man with the car, be seeing you.”

  I put down the receiver and rushed outside. “They’ve arrived,” I yelled. “They’re on their way. Where’s Mum?”

  Dad had stopped mowing the lawn. “Where are they?” he asked calmly.

  “Reading!” I cried. “They’re on their way in a hire car.”

  “Fantastic!” cried Angus. “I shall be able to stop thinking about education for a whole week. I’ll dig some more potatoes. Who did you talk to?”

  “Wendy and Pete. They seem to like our crabby little island,” I replied. “I think I’d better switch the electric blankets on in their beds; they’re sure to find English beds damp.”

  “Keep calm,” Dad said. “Don’t panic. I’ll get out the drinks and some ice. Is there enough lunch?”

  “I don’t know till Mum’s back,” I shouted.

  “Why are you shouting?” asked Dad. “Just calm down.”

  The rain had stopped and a wind blew the trees. It was a typical summer day in England.

  I started to scrape the potatoes just as Mum returned.

  “I hear they are on their way, and there’s only casseroled beef and ice cream,” she said.

  “I’ve dug some more potatoes,” Angus said coming in, his hands covered with earth. “I don’t know why you’re fussing. Can’t we just have hot dogs and cider? I don’t think they’ve tasted cider before. Has anyone got a fiver? I’ll go and get some.”

  We were still one chair short in the kitchen, but I didn’t mention it. Angus disappeared in search of cider while I finished scraping potatoes. Mum added some chopped-up bacon to the stew. Dad was washing his hands upstairs. He had a week’s leave from work and had spent the last few days doing what he called “Putting the garden straight.”

  Mermaid was still in the stable with laminitis. We had hung our few rosettes in the saddle room and cleaned all the tack. I was wearing jeans and a blouse. Mum wanted me to change. “They won’t be in jeans,” she said.

  “They usually are, and they are not relatives,” I answered, “and they’re used to me in jeans. Honestly, Mum, must I dress up for the Millers?”

  “Oh all right. But I’m going to change,” she said, going upstairs. “Watch the potatoes.”

  “They are coming through the village now,” called Angus, with a bottle of cider in each hand. “I saw them.”

  “You welcome them. I’m still changing,” shouted Mum.

  I rushed down the garden path as they were climbing out of the car. “Hiya,” I yelled. “Great to see you.”

  “Heavenly day! Isn’t it a cute little house?” cried Mrs Miller. “But are you sure you can fit us all in, Jean?”

  “Where’s Phil?” I asked.

  “He went on up to London. He’s got a girlfriend there And he’s staying with her family. You know Phil,” replied Wendy, laughing.

  “How’s the wild horse? You made it then?” asked Mr Miller.

  Dad had appeared now. “Come and have something to drink, Charlie,” he said. “You must need it. I expect the kids want to see the ponies.”

  “We’re not kids any more.” I said. Do you want to see Mermaid, Moonlight and Phantom?” I asked Wendy and Pete. “There’s a show the day after tomorrow and I’m taking Phantom.”

  “It’s all so green!” Pete said.

  “You didn’t crash in the ocean then?” Wendy asked. “It’s been kinda quiet back home without you.”

  Before lunch Dad whispered “FHB”, which meant “family hold back”, so Angus and I were not to ask for second helpings. Mr and Mrs Miller admired everything. They said that the cottage was full of antiques and that they would sure like to take the whole lot back to Virginia with them. Wendy said that the cottage would be great as a guest house.

  They looked too large for the dining room, which had been built five hundred years ago when people were several inches smaller than us, much less than the Millers.

  In the afternoon we played clock-golf on the lawn and chatted. Mum cooked an enormous dinner and Dad opened two bottles of wine and we all got rather silly. Mr Miller kept talking about Phantom. “If you get that horse into a ring the day after tomorrow, I’ll give you five hundred dollars, but if you don’t, I sure expect the same from you. That’s how I remember it. Am I right?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  Mum suddenly looked rather pale. And Dad said, “Let’s have coffee next door, shall we?” and stood up. He shot a piercing glance at me, and I realised that this was the first time he had heard of the bet. I mouthed “Opals” at him but he simply shrugged his shoulders and shepherded the Millers into the sitting room.

  I put the kettle on for the coffee and Pete said, “Don’t worry, Jean, I’ll pay it. I’m loaded with dollars.”

  I heard myself reply in rather a haughty voice, “I always pay my debts and I wouldn’t dream of borrowing from you. I’ve got some jewellery.” And all the time I was feeling colder and colder and wishing that I had spent more time schooling Phantom rather than shampooing carpets and painting ceilings.

  Wendy and I talked for hours that night. The next day the Millers planned to go to Stratford. They wanted us to go too, but in the end only Angus could go, because I had to spend the day getting Phantom ready for the show. Miss Mackintosh rang up and we were to leave the riding school at half past eight in the morning. Wendy and Pete had promised to help but neither of them could plait a mane, since they had a man at home called Joe who always prepared their horses for shows.

  Presently the Millers left in their car. It was a large estate and Dad suddenly decided to go as well as Angus, to show them the way.

  I helped Mum with the washing-up and she said that she thought they were enjoying themselves all right and that after Saturday they were going back to London and then to visit long-lost relations in Ireland. “But why did you agree to that silly bet with Mr Miller?” she asked, drying a plate. “You know we can’t afford five hundred dollars. You must be mad; it’s more than three hundred pounds. I can’t think what he’s thinking of either.”

  “I’ll just have to sell my opals,” I answered.

  “What, today? Anyway, you shouldn’t think of it. Your godmother left them for you to wear when you’re grown up.”

  “There’s nothing else I can do – besides win, of course,” I added quickly.

  “Then you’d better win,” said Mum, making a face at me.

  I caught Phantom and schooled him. I concentrated on making him more obedient to my legs. I did turns on the forehand, half passes, and turns on the haunches. Then I did a full pass at the trot and, with rising spirits, I thought that perhaps he had got the makings of a dressage horse. I shall be able to ride him in horse trials.

  I rode him out of the orchard gate and down the road and turned right towards the riding school, and here the grass and nettles on the verges nearly met across the narrow road. It was a damp, English summer morning with the hay cut and carried and the crops of oats, whea
t and barley still green in the fields. Small boys were riding an assortment of bikes up and down the road. They shouted, “Ride him, cowboy,” and I remembered how Angus had been like that once, small and grubby and mad on his bike, saying a hundred times a day, “Can I go out on my bike? Please, Mum?” And I, even then, tangle-haired, small, constantly in dew-drenched trainers, could think of nothing but riding.

  The riding school was full of pupils when I reached it. “There’s no one in the jumping paddock. Try your luck,” said Miss Mackintosh. “But don’t jump more than a dozen jumps or you’ll make him stale.”

  I rode Phantom round a three-foot course and he jumped it easily, only touching one pole which didn’t fall. I had entered for the sixteen-and-under class, which was open.

  “See you tomorrow at eight-thirty. Don’t be late!” called Miss Mackintosh as I left, pushing her way through a crowd of pupils.

  I felt old now. It seemed years since I had been a small child treating Miss Mackintosh as a sort of goddess. I let Phantom walk home on a loose rein and he ignored the cars which passed. Well, that’s one battle completely won, I thought. I put him in Mermaid’s loose box, which was built of brick and flint, but more flint than brick, and thought about finding homes for Moonlight and Mermaid. It wasn’t fair to keep them when we never rode them.

  I found Mum washing lettuce in the sink.

  “We’re only having a light lunch,” she said and then, “How did he go?”

  “Like a dream,” I said. “He’s too marvellous to be real. But I feel awful about it, because Angus can’t ride at all. I think we’ll have to sell Moonlight and Mermaid and buy something for him.”

  “They would be lovely to breed from,” Mum answered. “Miss Croft has got an Arab stallion and the fee is quite small, and Mr Pratt says we can rent his field.”

  I suddenly imagined two foals cantering about the orchard on long legs.

  “It’s just an idea,” Mum said.

  “A fabulous one!” I cried. “Absolutely fantastic!” But it still didn’t solve Angus’s problem of having no horse to ride.

  I spent the afternoon washing Phantom’s tail, grooming him until, had he been a piece of furniture, I would have been able to see my face in him. Then I put my grooming things ready in Mum’s shopping basket for the next morning and started on my tack, but all the time I could feel panic growing inside me. I saw Phantom standing on his hind legs, spinning round as he had in Virginia, galloping away, myself just a passenger again. I had decided to put his drop noseband a hole tighter, but it would not stop him rearing. I saw myself abjectly saying to Mr Miller, “I’m so sorry I can’t pay you yet. But I can when I’ve sold my opals.”

  And Mr Miller would say, “Forget it. It sure doesn’t matter.” And he would go home to Virginia saying that English people didn’t pay their debts.

  I’ll say I’ve got the money in my building society account, I decided, and then I started to wonder for the first time how much my opals were worth.

  But now the Millers were coming back, laughing as they came up the garden path. “Hey, it was great!” Wendy cried. “I sure wanted to be hunting across Warwickshire; those hedges are something. How do they grow so straight?”

  I put my girth on top of my saddle. It still needed whitening, but that would have to wait till later. Pete came straight round to the saddle room. “I wished you had come,” he said. “Do you need any help? I’ve got a pair of strong arms.”

  “No, thanks all the same,” I said. “Did you have a good time?”

  “Yeah, it was great,” he said, putting an arm round my shoulders. “But I guess you had a miserable time worrying about that silly bet with the old man, huh?”

  I nodded slowly.

  “And I reckon your opals aren’t worth five hundred dollars.”

  I shook my head.

  “Why don’t you call the whole thing off?” he suggested. “The old man expects you to. But he won’t make the first move.”

  I could see myself saying, “I agree with what you said, I don’t think Phantom will ever go into a ring, here or in Virginia, so please can we call off our bet?” I imagined him holding out his hand saying, “Now you’re talking sense, Jean.” And the whole scene was so completely foreign to my nature that I felt like shouting, “No, no, no, I would rather die.” But I didn’t. I shrugged my shoulders and said, “I’m going to win it. You’re all in for a surprise.”

  Then I hastily touched wood and Pete saw me and said, “You’ve thought that before. You were real certain you were going to show everyone back home. Be smart, quit now while you’ve got the chance. No one will despise you for it.”

  Suddenly I was hating him for not believing me. “I don’t want to talk about it any more,” I cried, walking towards the cottage. “If I can’t pay, Dad will have to. We’ll sell the family silver, we have our pride.”

  “A real silly word, pride,” shouted Pete. “And where’s the silver? I haven’t seen any.”

  My eyes were suddenly brimming with tears because again he didn’t believe me. “Turn the spoons over and look,” I yelled. “They’re silver and they’re old and there are twelve of them -and then there are the knives and forks and soup spoons.” We’re quarrelling, I thought, and it’s never happened before.

  Everything had suddenly turned sour. I could hardly speak a word throughout dinner, and the food nearly choked me. I kept looking at Pete and thinking, you traitor! How could you have said such things?

  Once I caught him looking at the handle of a teaspoon and he blushed.

  Angus seemed weary and soon retired to the summerhouse. It was raining and I was unable to amuse Wendy, because I couldn’t think of anything but tomorrow.

  Finally the Millers decided to watch television with Mum and Dad and I went up to bed feeling a failure in more ways than one. I pretended to be asleep when Wendy appeared muttering, “Crabby English weather.”

  The words Pete had said: “Where’s the silver? I haven’t seen any,” echoed over and over in my brain. They were stupid enough words, but I felt they were weighted with everything he thought about us, and it was like a sledgehammer hitting some tender spot in my brain again and again.

  12

  The weather was fine when I climbed out of bed next morning, dressing quietly so as not to wake Wendy, stopping to pray for one brief moment that Phantom would enter the ring and not let me down. When I went outside the sun was rising above the trees. Phantom was lying down, looking like a prince, with Mermaid watching over him.

  He let me put on a headcollar before he stood up and shook himself. Cocks were crowing everywhere and there was a continuous chorus of birdsong from the trees. The grass was still wet and my jeans were soaked up to the knees by the time I had reached the stable. Outside the road was empty. The whole countryside at this moment seemed to belong to me and the birds and, of course, Phantom.

  At seven o’clock I was eating breakfast in the kitchen. Phantom was ready by this time. While I was struggling into my boots a sleepy Angus appeared from the summerhouse, still in his pyjamas with a cobweb in his tousled hair.

  “Do you want any help? Have you got everything? Don’t let us down. You know your opals probably aren’t worth five hundred dollars, don’t you?” he said.

  “I know, I’ve been told,” I answered.

  Riding along the road towards the riding school I felt panic coming back. I must think of something else, of school, of Mermaid in foal; but I couldn’t. I could only imagine Mr Miller waiting for his money. The post van was coming down the road and I could see cows being turned into a meadow after milking. Phantom was carrying himself marvellously. I felt as though we were trotting on air.

  The trailer was waiting in the yard, its ramp down, when I reached the riding school. Miss Mackintosh appeared in breeches and boots, white shirt, tie and hairnet. “It’s going to be a glorious day,” she said. “I’ll load mine first.”

  She led out a big chestnut with two white socks behind. I wondered how sh
e mounted so big a horse as she led him towards the trailer. Three minutes later I was leading Phantom up the ramp, talking to him, saying, “This is our great day. You must behave.”

  Miss Mackintosh put the ramp up. “So far, so good,” she said. “I’ll just get my hat and coat and then we’re off.”

  “Mum and Dad are bringing oats and grooming things,” I said, putting my saddle and bridle in Miss Mackintosh’s Range Rover.

  I sat in the front. The journey took an hour or more and was uneventful, except that my legs had started to feel like jelly.

  The show was in a stadium – there were no green trees, no open space; Only the trains tearing along a track fifty metres away, and tarmac, and dusty earth and cars. “No one told me it was here,” I cried. “Phantom will never go in. He will think it’s a trap. Why didn’t someone tell me it was in a stadium?”

  “It was on the schedule,” Miss Mackintosh replied.

  “It must have been in jolly small letters then,” I said.

  “Keep calm and he’ll keep calm,” suggested Miss Mackintosh. She was riding her chestnut in the Novice Jumping for Grade C Horses. I left Phantom in the trailer and watched the hacks being judged. The sun was shining and at the moment there were only a few people in the tiers of seats round the stadium.

  After a time I unboxed Phantom and tied him to the outside of the trailer and polished him with the stable rubber. I was feeling sick now. I simply couldn’t imagine Phantom going into the stadium. I tacked up and walked him up and down, letting him look at everything. My class was at ten-thirty and the fourteen-and-under jumping was in progress. Phantom was too big for it.