Chocolate Box Girls: Coco Caramel

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Chocolate Box Girls: Coco Caramel Page 14

by Cathy Cassidy


  Spirit groans softly in the lamplight, dark eyes fringed with long lashes fixed on me as I start to play. Music swirls around the shadowy corners, filling up the darkness with a haunting lament that slowly builds into something brighter, braver. I play for ages, until Spirit’s breathing steadies, until Lawrie grins in the lamplight.

  ‘I think she’s almost there,’ he says. ‘Look!’

  I put my bow down, kneeling beside Lawrie as the foal is born, long legs first, wrapped in a sticky membrane. Time seems to slow. As I hold my breath, the head appears, and then finally the foal slides out into the hay and I am wiping the sticky membrane from its face as if I have done it a million times before. Lawrie is grinning and Spirit is resting now, nudging the foal gently.

  ‘He’s perfect,’ I say, and my eyes brim with happy tears because in spite of everything that is messed up and wrong with my world, the newborn foal really is perfect, a kind of miracle.

  ‘We could call him Star,’ Lawrie suggests. ‘It’s such a clear sky tonight you can see whole constellations …’

  ‘Perfect,’ I say again.

  My memory dredges up what I read on the Internet, and I know that we have to let Spirit and her foal rest now before she breaks the cord. The website said something about iodine to disinfect, but we don’t have any and I try not to worry; there wouldn’t have been any in the wild, after all.

  ‘It’ll be a couple of hours before she delivers the placenta,’ Lawrie says. ‘I’ll stay, obviously.’

  ‘Me too,’ I whisper. ‘I can’t go back to the house tonight; I told you.’

  Then Lawrie makes a tiny fire in the grate so we don’t all die of frostbite, and Spirit struggles to her feet and the cord breaks, and there doesn’t seem to be any need for iodine.

  ‘The violin was good,’ he says. ‘Who needs the school orchestra? You are clearly more of a ruined-cottage violinist, gloves and icicles and jasmine in the hair, at one with nature.’

  I laugh. ‘You’re a music expert now? Well, whatever, I’ll take the compliment. My fan club consists of you and two ponies.’

  Lawrie grins. ‘Three, actually. Star is your biggest fan. And we all have very good taste.’

  I stroke the foal so gently that it feels like I am holding my breath. Spirit looks on, calm and trusting. She’s wrong to trust me, though. If anything had gone wrong tonight, the ponies would have been in danger – because of me.

  I thought I had things all mapped out with no margin for error – but my plans are unravelling by the minute. Life is not a box of chocolates, a pick ’n’ mix where I can choose just what I want; it turns out that someone has tricked me, switched the whole box for something less appealing. Lately, more and more, I find myself biting into something tough, tasteless, stale; something that leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

  It turns out I am hopeless at the violin, and how am I supposed to stop bullies like Seddon and save the world when my own family is falling to bits right before my eyes? I am keeping so many secrets, telling so many lies to so many people that I can barely sleep at night. Not even Cherry, Sarah, Amy and Jayde know the whole story – they just know snippets of what’s happening, my own edited version.

  My big sister isn’t the only one breaking the rules, the law.

  Caramel comes close, nuzzling my hair, and I feel the gentle pressure of a hand on my shoulder. ‘Hey,’ Lawrie says. ‘Don’t go all slushy on me now …’

  I wipe a sleeve across my eyes, fierce, furious. ‘I’m not,’ I lie. ‘I just … got something in my eye. A speck of dust or something … OK?’

  Lawrie nods, and I reflect that there is something to be said for having a mate like him, someone who just gets on with stuff and doesn’t try to dig out your deepest, darkest secrets. And it is difficult to be sad for too long when a scruffy Exmoor pony is breathing down your neck and chewing the hood of your duffel coat, seriously.

  I huddle next to the fire beside Lawrie, who hands me apples and chocolate, and we watch as Star battles to his feet, long legs buckling and sliding as he nudges against Spirit and begins to feed. My fingers begin to thaw a little as I hold them out to the flames.

  ‘What will happen about your sister?’ Lawrie asks quietly. ‘What will your family do?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I admit. ‘Mum and Paddy have given her so many chances … but the truth is, she doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want to be a part of our family. That hurts – for all of us. She used to be Dad’s favourite; she thinks that if he were still around things would be different. Thing is, Dad’s moved on – he never bothered seeing us when he was in London, and now he lives on the other side of the world.’

  ‘We’re not so different, you and me,’ Lawrie muses. ‘Our dads both let us down. What’s your stepdad like?’

  ‘Great,’ I say easily. ‘Paddy’s good fun and he makes Mum happy – that’s the biggest thing. He’s working really hard to make us into a family, and I think he does care about Honey – if she’d just give him a chance!’

  ‘Sounds like one of the good guys,’ Lawrie says. ‘You’re lucky. Not everyone is like that.’

  I shrug. ‘Well, most people are OK, I guess …’

  ‘Huh,’ he says. ‘I used to think that too, once. After Dad left, Mum wanted a new start, to put some distance between us and him. She got a job as a housekeeper for some holiday cottages; the work was easy and there was a rent-free flat thrown in. Then it all went pear-shaped, and now we’re stuck here, trapped.’

  ‘Trapped?’ I echo. ‘How come?’

  Lawrie shrugs. The shutters come down again as if he has changed his mind, said too much.

  ‘I’ll tell you sometime,’ he says, getting up to fetch more firewood. ‘Maybe. Don’t worry about it. What does it matter how messed up our lives are right now? It won’t be forever. One day soon you’ll be a violin-playing vet, travelling from place to place on horseback, handing out panda cupcakes to the poor and needy … and I’ll run my own stables back home in Cumbria. We’ll look back at all this and laugh.’

  ‘You think?’ I ask.

  ‘No, probably not,’ he says. ‘Maybe we’ll end our days in prison. Coco and Marshall, the notorious under-age Exmoor horse rustlers …’ He pulls his woolly scarf up over his nose, gangster style, raising his hands in surrender, and the two of us dissolve into laughter.

  A couple of hours later, the birthing is safely over and Lawrie has cleared everything away and brought in fresh hay for Spirit and Star and Caramel. We sit for hours, huddled in blankets beside the crackling fire, watching the three ponies and talking about an imaginary future where no animals are ever ill-treated.

  ‘Panda hats will be considered the height of fashion,’ Lawrie declares. ‘And all music lessons will be conducted a minimum of ten feet off the ground, in the branches of an oak tree.’

  ‘All animals will be equal,’ I add. ‘Cruelty will be abolished and annoying Year Six boys with cake addictions and bullying tendencies will be hoisted up the school flagpole.’

  ‘Certificates of excellence will be awarded for science students who succeed in singeing their own hair with a Bunsen burner. I don’t know why we don’t go into politics. We’d soon get this country straightened out – we’d be unstoppable!’

  My laughter fades and I remember that in real life we don’t have quite so much to laugh about, but I have never been the kind of person to accept defeat.

  I bite my lip. ‘Listen, Lawrie,’ I say. ‘I know it’s risky, but … we have to rescue Seddon’s new ponies. We don’t have a choice, you know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Coco, just hold on –’

  ‘We can’t leave them there!’ I arg
ue. ‘Seddon’s a thug, you know that – he won’t treat them well. We don’t have to bring them up here – that would endanger Caramel and Spirit and Star. But if we get them out and take them somewhere safe – like the riding school perhaps – well, that would be a message to the police that we’re not stealing them for profit. We could send a note to the police and to the Gazette, maybe, about how Seddon treats his animals …’

  Lawrie frowns. ‘It could work. We could tip off the police and the papers, then Jean and Roy wouldn’t get into trouble. Maybe someone will actually check up on Seddon and find out what he’s like. It wouldn’t be stealing … more moving the ponies around. I think you’re on to something, Coco!’

  ‘I know I am,’ I tell him. ‘So … tomorrow night? I’ll draft some letters for the police and the newspaper.’

  ‘Meet in the woods by Blue Downs House then?’ Lawrie suggests. ‘At midnight?’

  ‘I’ll be there. And … I’ll never forget this night, Lawrie. Spirit and Star … and, well, everything.’

  ‘Nor me.’

  I yawn and stretch, suddenly aware of how late it must be. Lawrie puts together a nest of cushions and blankets and I curl inside it, bone-weary, while he banks up the fire with fresh logs.

  I wake achey and cold, with the heavy arm of the school’s moodiest boy flung over me beneath the blankets that cocoon us both, his breath warm on my neck, his hand holding mine.

  25

  The fallout from Honey’s expulsion from school is still settling when I return home on Saturday morning. The chocolate factory is deserted, the kitchen looks like a bomb has hit it and Mum and Paddy look shattered, as if they haven’t slept at all. Well, maybe they haven’t.

  Honey is stretched out on one of the blue velvet sofas, watching our Bambi DVD and eating crumpets. She looks unbothered, as if today is just any old Saturday and not the day after she got kicked out of Exmoor High. I remember the time I first watched Bambi, years ago when I was little, with Honey, Summer and Skye. I was mad about animals even then and I loved it – right up until the moment that Bambi’s mum got shot. I cried so hard then that Mum had to switch it off, and my sisters grumbled and told me I was a baby, and not to be stupid because it was just a movie.

  There’s a lump in my throat as I flop down beside Honey now.

  ‘You OK?’ I ask. ‘Are you grounded again?’

  ‘Don’t think so,’ she shrugs. ‘What’s the point? They know I’ll find a way round it. Besides, I don’t care any more. I’m out of here!’

  My mind buzzes with past threats of boarding school. ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Ask Mum,’ Honey says. ‘She and Paddy have got what they wanted – to be rid of me.’

  ‘That’s not true!’ I argue. ‘You’re twisting things round!’

  She shrugs. ‘Whatever. It doesn’t matter because I got what I wanted too. Sorry to ditch you, little sis, but I finally get to escape this dump. Apparently boarding school is too expensive – trust Paddy, stingy with the cash right to the last – but hey, this time it works in my favour. I’m going out to Australia to live with Dad. This time next week I’ll be on a flight to Sydney!’

  I feel cold all over. My big sister is a chancer, a drama queen, a rule-breaker. She’s lazy, rebellious and sometimes downright bitchy, but I love her to pieces and I cannot imagine life without her.

  ‘You can’t!’ I whisper. ‘What about us?’

  ‘What about you?’ Honey asks. ‘You’ve made your choice, Coco. You just can’t see how Paddy has ruined this family, can you? If it wasn’t for him, Dad and Mum might have been back together by now.’

  ‘Honey, you know that’s not true!’

  ‘Well, it was possible, wasn’t it?’ she snaps. ‘Until Mum married that loser! Now she puts him first the whole time. Admit it, we have hardly seen them this last week or two!’

  ‘That’s because of the department store order,’ I argue. ‘You’re not being fair. Mum has done everything in her power to help you and Paddy is trying his very best too!’

  Honey shrugs. ‘His best isn’t good enough,’ she says. ‘Not for me. Paddy doesn’t belong here – he’s not my dad, and he never will be!’

  She picks up a fluffy cushion and hugs it to her, her lower lip quivering. I think Honey is a whole lot more bothered by all this than she is letting on. ‘I can’t get along with Cherry either – and the rest of you are so totally taken in by her,’ she goes on. ‘She’s pushed me out – with Mum, with Shay, even with you …’

  ‘No way!’ I protest. ‘Nobody could ever do that! Honey, please don’t go away. If you could only try harder at school, stay away from the fairground crowd and just calm down … it’s not too late!’

  Honey shakes her head. ‘I think it is. I’ve tried too, Coco – really I have. I just can’t seem to get anything right, and the whole school thing has gone way too far. They wouldn’t have me back even if I wanted them to, and trust me, I don’t. I made one massive mistake trusting Anthony. It was his idea, about hacking into the school system and changing my report – I should have known we’d never get away with it. And now he’s not even speaking to me – he says it’s all my fault!’

  I remember seeing Anthony at one of our beach parties in the summer, a misfit loner whose puppy-dog eyes trailed after Honey wherever she went. He had a major crush on her, but of course, Anthony has never even been on my sister’s radar. It’s all too easy to imagine him thinking up plots and plans to hike up her school grades, to please her, hoping she might see him differently. Instead it all backfired, and Anthony’s perfect school career is over in one dramatic fall from grace. I guess that would cure a crush, all right.

  ‘The truth is I don’t fit in here any more,’ Honey is saying. ‘I am a walking disaster area. My friends are the kind of kids who think it’s cool to break the rules. As for boys, the ones I like have “trouble” stamped all over them. And when things go wrong, not one of them is anywhere to be seen.’

  ‘So change your friends, pick nicer boyfriends,’ I say. ‘You can still turn things around. Start over!’

  ‘I’m going to,’ Honey says. ‘In Australia. I’ll miss you, Coco-pops, of course I will, but we can stay in touch on Skype and SpiderWeb. I have tried about a million fresh starts here, you know that – I need something different. Dad’s stepped up to the mark, finally – he’s going to find a good school, hire tutors, make sure I pass some exams. He does care, Coco!’

  ‘Of course he does,’ I say, although I have to admit there has never been much evidence of it before. I can’t say that to Honey, though.

  ‘I still miss Dad,’ she tells me. ‘Every day. And the rest of you seem to have forgotten him, and it makes me feel like such a freak for even caring …’

  ‘We all miss him,’ I tell her, and because there really isn’t any more to say I put my arms round my big sister and hold her tight. She hugs me back, her face pressed against my shoulder, her beautiful hair soft beneath my fingers.

  I look up and see that the DVD has reached the part where Bambi’s mother gets shot, but this time it’s Honey who’s crying.

  I sit at one end of the blue sofa, writing letters to the newspaper and to the police about Seddon and the way he treats his ponies, while Honey huddles at the other end, curled up under the blanket made of crochet squares she has had since she was tiny.

  My sisters come home at midday and Mum and Paddy call a family meeting in the kitchen. Everyone is there except Honey, who has fallen asleep in the living room, the tail end of Bambi playing softly in the background.

  ‘Is it true that you’re sending her away?’ I blurt out, as soon as Mum sits down. ‘You can’t,
Mum, it’s cruel!’

  Skye kicks me hard under the table. ‘Shut UP, Coco!’ she whispers. ‘That’s not helping!’

  Mum’s eyes fill with tears, and I am instantly ashamed. ‘It’s not what I want,’ she explains in a wobbly voice. ‘It’s what your sister wants … what she’s wanted all along. She has used up all her chances here. She needs discipline, rules, support – we’ve tried to give her those things, Coco, you know that. It hasn’t worked. Everyone is in agreement here, Mr Keating, the school counsellor, Honey’s social worker …’

  I gulp. ‘She has a social worker?’

  ‘Social services are trying to help us,’ Paddy says. ‘They’ve been aware of the problems since the summer, when Honey ran away. Once the police were involved, they were involved – but they want to help, Coco, we all do. We just want what’s best for Honey.’

  ‘And what’s that?’ Skye asks.

  ‘A fresh start,’ Paddy says. ‘A chance to get away from the kids she’s been seeing – well, most of them aren’t kids, of course, and that’s part of the problem. It’s almost like a cry for help, and let’s face it, the gentle approach hasn’t worked. We need to do something different.’

  ‘Boarding school was one option,’ Mum says. ‘We looked into it, and there were a couple of places that gave great support to troubled teens like Honey – but right now, we can’t afford the fees. If we knew that this big chocolate order was going to be a success it might be different, but we can’t predict what will happen.’

 

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