Emma added that her dad only found out about it when he studied old maps of the land.
‘Wow!’ gasped Bryony. ‘Can we take Red that way now?’
‘It’s too tangled for him,’ Emma replied. ‘But when Red is tucked up, you and I could come back that way?’
‘Yes, please!’ Bryony had always liked the wild or mysterious.
So when Red was happily in his stable for the night, Emma snuck her and Bryony into Pheasant Walk, which was everything Bryony had hoped it would be. She found herself in a magical labyrinth, so enchantingly twisted and beautifully untamed that it made the overgrown bit in her own back garden look as neat as a city park!
Emma had even made a little den from woven willow canes, moss and leaves. It looked like a fairy grotto, so cosy and snug – and so camouflaged you’d hardly know it was there!
‘I hide from Georgina here sometimes,’ said Emma. ‘It feels doubly safe. That’s why we have to keep this place secret.’
Emma looked very serious.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Bryony. ‘I won’t tell a single soul.’
Bryony had her first sleepover at Emma’s house that night. And as usual they chatted about all sorts. Bryony told Emma about her dad, even though talking about him was still very hard. And Emma told Bryony that her parents were divorced.
‘So, did you go to your stables every day back home?’ Emma asked, quickly changing the subject. Bryony wondered if she wasn’t quite ready to talk about her mum just yet.
‘No, not every day – but a lot,’ replied Bryony. ‘Then . . . Dad got sick and I stayed home more. When he used to paint, I’d make him clay models – animals, mostly. And even if the legs and heads fell off, he’d still keep them.’
They both smiled and Bryony realised that she was remembering the happy times with Dad again . . .
*
The girls woke up next morning to a real scorcher. They took Red out all day exploring, right up to the top of the hills!
Then, to round off the hottest day of the year, they had an evening picnic in a beautiful wildflower meadow full of poppies, buttercups and cornflowers!
Emma had brought the food, which they ate in the tall grass – ham rolls, ripe strawberries, pasties and a yummy carrot cake (made especially for the occasion by her dad!). She’d even brought a pear and some banana skins for Red, after reading that some ponies love them!
Later, as Bryony rode in through the back gate, the sky was a swirl of indigo and pink and the air was perfumed with honeysuckle.
‘Wow, look at Red’s coat!’ Emma said suddenly, as she walked along beside them. ‘It’s so shiny! He looks so much perkier since you’ve been looking after him, Bry.’
Bryony smiled proudly. ‘Thank you.’ And she patted the side of Red’s neck. Tonight his familiar cinnamony smell was mixed with the scent of dancing poppies and tall, swishy grass!
They carried on past Emma’s little cottage and down to the stable block. But when they turned the corner into the stable yard, Bryony’s heart sank. For there on the bench, eating an apple, was Georgina!
Bryony heard Emma give a little gasp, and when Red saw Georgina he stopped. Bryony had been preparing herself for this; for the day Georgina was better. But somehow, over the last few days, it had just slipped to the back of her mind. And now it was quite a shock to see Georgina back again.
‘Ah, Emma,’ said Georgina, her voice oddly warm. ‘I see you’ve made a new friend.’ Her eyes shot across to Bryony. ‘Thanks for looking after my pony.’
Bryony opened her mouth to reply but nothing came to her lips. This friendly-sounding Georgina was most unnerving!
‘I hope you’ve had a good time,’ said Georgina, ‘and that it wasn’t too much . . . trouble?’
‘I . . .’ Bryony dismounted, desperately holding back what felt like an ocean of tears. Her time alone with Red had come to an end.
Georgina smiled. Her skin was blotchy but she’d managed to avoid any pockmarks. Bryony noticed, despite the smile, her eyes were ice-cold.
‘Anyway!’ beamed Georgina. ‘As you can see I’m quite better, so I can have my pony back.’ And, taking Red’s reins, she thanked Bryony again . . .
‘You can go now.’
Georgina’s tone made it very clear she did not expect a reply. Red was snorting nervously as Georgina held him firm, waiting.
Bryony bit her lip. It would be better for Red if she went quickly. The last thing she wanted was for his nervousness to turn into panic and distress. But she’d definitely be back. If Georgina thought this was over, she was mistaken!
Bryony tried to leave but suddenly her legs felt as heavy as tree trunks. Every muscle of her body was willing her to stay.
Pushing through the pain, Bryony finally turned and began to walk away with Emma.
‘Oh, and just one more thing,’ Georgina called. ‘If you’re thinking of coming back tomorrow, I should just pop along to the post office before you do.’
‘H-hang on.’ Bryony spun back round. ‘What? Why?’ But Georgina had already marched Red into the stable and she shut the door firmly behind them.
‘What’s she up to?’ gasped Emma.
Bryony shook her head. ‘I don’t know but I don’t like the sound of it. Meet me at the post office tomorrow morning at nine?’
‘Yes!’ Emma nodded nervously. ‘I’ll be there.’
Bryony had the sinking feeling that Georgina was at her most deadly when sickeningly sweet.
‘Ahhh . . .’ she sighed. It was going to be another long night!
*
Bryony wasn’t wrong. She tossed and turned all night, unable to get a wink of sleep.
‘Not wearing your jodhpurs today?’ asked Mum when Bryony appeared at the bottom of the stairs in her jeans the following morning.
‘N-no,’ mumbled Bryony. ‘I’m meeting Emma, sorry – got to go.’
Before Mum could ask any more questions, Bryony hurried through the front door. Then she ran all the way to town.
By the time she got to the post office she felt, and looked, exhausted. And Emma, who was sitting waiting on the step, looked just as bad!
‘Right,’ said Bryony, opening the door. ‘Come on, let’s get it over with.’ It was time to see exactly what Georgina Brook was up to now.
They went inside. Miss Pigeon was nowhere to be seen so the girls started looking around. The problem was, they hadn’t a clue what they were looking for.
Then Bryony stopped. In the middle of the noticeboard her eyes had been drawn to a brand new card. Bryony nudged Emma and, drawing closer, they read it . . .
Bryony felt numb. Like she’d just jumped into an ice-cold sea. Georgina Brook was selling Red. So anyone could buy him. Anyone except her. For Bryony didn’t have the money. And that was that.
The numbness was slowly giving way to a stiflingly sickly dizziness. Bryony needed air. As she rushed to the door, her palms were clammy and her head was in a spin. She hurried outside into the dazzling sunlight.
Emma was right behind her. ‘I’m so sorry, Bry,’ she said. But all that Bryony could think about was how Red could be taken away from Brook Dale completely.
‘I bet the Brooks have put ads in other places too,’ said Bryony. ‘Pony magazines, newspapers, online. I mean anyone from anywhere could buy him . . . Georgina’s won.’
‘No!’ Emma cried out so forcefully that it made Bryony jump.
‘She . . . she’s such a bully,’ Emma went on. ‘I hate her!’
Bryony caught a glimpse of Emma’s face. She’d suddenly gone as white as a ghost and her hands were trembling.
‘Em, are you okay?’ Bryony quickly asked.
Emma nodded back. ‘Yes – sorry!’
She swallowed hard and Bryony waited. Something wasn’t right. She knew that Emma had grown fond of Red, but this had to be something more.
‘She’s . . . bullied me for ages,’ Emma finally said, tears welling in her eyes. ‘At first it wasn’t . . . wasn’t . . . too bad a-
and I thought she’d get fed up and stop. But then it got worse. She started saying things about my family too. Spreading gossip about how poor we are and stuff – and how . . . how my mum . . .’ Emma stopped.
Bryony nodded. Poor Emma! Bryony had only had a few weeks of Georgina but Emma had had her for years.
‘Oh, Em,’ said Bryony. ‘It must have been horrible! But as for not letting Georgina win, I’m just not sure what to do. I guess I should have seen today coming. She never wanted Red in the first place.’
‘But you do!’ cried Emma. ‘And Red wants you – anyone can see that! He trusts you and he loves you so much.’
‘I know.’ Bryony thought of those big brown eyes. ‘And I love him.’
They sat down on the kerb and both fell silent, each caught up in their own memories. The street was peaceful, except for the gulls, their cries reminding Bryony of the day she and Red had run free . . .
‘So . . . where should we start?’ Emma said at last, her voice now much less shaky.
‘Start?’ repeated Bryony.
‘Yes.’ Emma looked at her. ‘Start with our plan for you to get Red?’
Bryony shook her head. ‘But how can I, Em? I can’t buy him, we can’t afford it. Besides, Mum would never agree. After the year she’s had, she needs a rest not a pony!’
Emma nodded. ‘But isn’t it worth a try? Maybe start with your mum and if she does agree then we work out the money bit after that . . .?’
Bryony hesitated. It sounded almost impossible. But she thought of how brave Emma had been, opening up about the bullying just now. And here Emma was trying her best to support her . . .
For Emma then, as much as for herself, Bryony nodded. ‘Okay, we can try.’
‘No, repeat after me: we can do it,’ said Emma.
‘We can do it!’ repeated Bryony. And just hearing herself say the words gave her the faintest flicker of hope. She was going to do her very best – with Emma!
They walked back, arm in arm, planning. Might as well start right away.
‘I have to tell Mum everything, don’t I?’ asked Bryony. ‘Exactly what Georgina’s been like?’
‘I know it’ll be hard,’ Emma replied. ‘I mean, it’s taken me so long to tell someone about her. But I did it. I just told you.’
‘You mean . . .’ Bryony stopped. ‘I’m the only one who knows?’
‘Just you.’
They walked on. ‘I feel better for telling you, though,’ said Emma. ‘So I’m sure you will too when your mum knows. And then we can plan our next move, right?’
Bryony nodded. ‘Yeah. We can. Thanks, Em.’
When the girls arrived at Plum Cottage, Bryony’s mum was baking ginger biscuits, and on the dresser sat a fresh vase of flowers. It suddenly struck Bryony that Mum had barely touched a flower since Dad had died. Not even the ones for Dad’s funeral, although Mum had been a florist then. Clearly today was a good day for her. And now Bryony was about to ruin it by spilling the beans about Georgina!
Maybe best leave it? Bryony thought to herself. But Emma must have read her mind.
‘We can do it,’ Emma mouthed. She nodded and Bryony whispered, ‘Okay.’
‘Um, Mum,’ said Bryony. ‘Emma and me . . . we’ve come for a chat – a-and to help!’
‘Perfect,’ Mum smiled. ‘Just in time for the rolling. Grab some aprons!’
While Bryony plucked up the courage to tell her mum, she and Emma rolled out the biscuit dough. Bryony kept waiting for a ‘good moment’ but one just wasn’t coming.
Finally, when the biscuits were baked (and cooled!) and everyone was sitting round the table with a pot of tea, Bryony finally decided she just had to stop putting it off.
‘Mum, I’ve got something to tell you,’ she said.
‘Oh?’ said Mum. ‘What’s that, love?’
‘Well,’ said Bryony, her heart starting to thud. ‘The thing is . . . well . . . Georgina Brook . . . she’s not, um . . . as nice as you think.’
‘What do you mean?’ Mum looked puzzled. ‘You’ve practically lived at the Manor lately? I know you weren’t sure of Georgina at first, but I thought things were fine after that? I mean, she asked you to look after her pony when she got chickenpox, didn’t she?’
‘No.’ Bryony shook her head. ‘It was Bella who asked me. She thought that we were getting on too. But she doesn’t know what Georgina’s like. And the truth is – well, Georgina’s . . . really mean!’
And then it all came tumbling out, about the first day they’d visited the Manor, about the ‘accident’ (or not) with the biscuit tin, about the cold, curt way Georgina had spoken, and about how she’d blackmailed Bryony into lying in return for a little time alone with Red.
‘And she’s cruel to him!’ Bryony cried. ‘She never brushes him nicely, o-or talks to him. And she keeps him all cooped up! She never even . . .’
Bryony stopped, suddenly feeling a lump in her throat. ‘She never even gave him a name. I did that.’
Mum opened her mouth but closed it again. She looked confused and shocked.
‘But why,’ she said finally, ‘didn’t you tell me all this? We never keep things from each other.’
Bryony suspected this wasn’t exactly true. Mum had held back a lot of her worries when Dad had been ill, and afterwards. And Bryony hadn’t spoken of her feelings of loneliness, which had only very recently started to lessen. But now she had a whole fresh set of worries!
‘Red is for sale,’ Emma chipped in quietly. ‘We just saw a notice in the post office.’
‘Oh.’ Mum heaved a heavy sigh. ‘I see.’
With that, there was tap on the door and Grandpa came in, all smiles.
‘I’ve brought you some roses from my gard—’ Grandpa stopped, seeing everyone looking so sad.
‘I told Mum, Gramps,’ Bryony said. ‘About Georgina.’
‘Wait! You knew about Georgina, Dad?’ gasped Mum. ‘And you didn’t tell me?’ She looked hurt.
‘No – Mum – I made him promise not to!’ cried Bryony. ‘Because I thought that I could deal with it, and I still think I can because I’ve decided I am going to find a way to buy Red!’
‘Oh, Bryony . . .’ Mum went over and gave her a hug. ‘The thing is, ponies cost such a lot. And I just don’t have that kind of money.’
‘But I didn’t mean you should pay,’ Bryony replied. ‘Me and Emma! We’ve got a plan to get the money. O-or we will have soon!’
Mum wandered to the window and gazed out at their crazy, overgrown garden. ‘And where would we keep him?’ she asked softly. ‘I just don’t want you to get your hopes up, only to find it’s impossible.’
‘But it isn’t impossible!’ Bryony jumped up. ‘What if me and Emma – I dunno . . . did odd jobs around the place? There must be tons of people needing things done round here! That’ll get us started at least!’
‘They could help me,’ piped up Grandpa, ‘with my gardening jobs around town. My round’s got a fair few clients.’ At this Mum shot him a warning look and Grandpa fell silent again.
‘We’d work very hard, Mrs May,’ Emma nodded.
‘Really, really hard!’ promised Bryony.
Bryony looked at her mother, her eyes full of determination.
Please say yes, please say yes, she repeated in her head, her fingers tightly crossed behind her back.
‘Well . . . all right,’ said Mum at last. ‘I suppose it can’t hurt to try.’
‘Oh, thank you!’ cried Bryony, throwing her arms around Mum. She knew this was just the start but knew too that you had to start somewhere!
Just then, Josh sloped in. ‘What’s with the hugs?’ So Grandpa quickly told him the news.
‘Pfff!’ replied Josh with a bored-looking shrug. ‘As if! Ponies cost a packet.’
‘Josh . . .’ whispered Mum, shaking her head. ‘We’ve just been through all that, thank you.’
‘Hey, Bryony,’ said Emma, ‘we could clean windows too! We can borrow my dad’s ladder.’
; ‘Great!’ said Bryony. But Josh shook his head.
‘Well, sorry, sis – you can count me out, too busy!’
Bryony frowned. He didn’t look sorry as he happily tucked into the biscuits. She and Josh used to be really close, but in the last couple of weeks she’d hardly seen him. And, when she did, he was always so edgy.
‘When’s lunch?’ demanded Josh, scowling at Mum. ‘I’m meant to be meeting Dartt again soon. Got any crisps or sausage rolls?’
‘Oh, Josh,’ Mum sighed. ‘No, I haven’t. You’ll stay and have a proper lunch for once.’
Well, Bryony wasn’t staying with her brother like this. Making an excuse that they needed to get the ladder, she quickly headed off with Emma. Josh didn’t care about anything any more.
Except for Dan Artt and ‘the others’ . . .
The plan to buy Red began that very afternoon with cleaning a ton of dusty windows!
Emma helped too and for the rest of the week the girls hardly stopped. This was good as it kept Bryony busy, although the little pony was never far away from her thoughts.
As well as window-cleaning, they washed cars, painted fences and walked countless dogs. They also helped Grandpa and Emma’s dad with their gardening, and Miss Pigeon even took the girls around town helping her to deliver groceries.
They were on one of these trips at the end of the week, heading off to visit a Miss Parsley (or so the name on the grocery box said), when the subject of the summer fête came up.
Until that day Bryony had heard nothing of this annual fête but as they walked to Miss Parsley’s, Miss Pigeon could talk of nothing else! Today was Friday and the fête was a week on Saturday, she informed them.
‘August the eighteenth to be precise!’ she said. ‘Two o’clock ’til five – come rain or shine, mind you!’
Miss Pigeon then stopped to talk to a passer-by about the cream teas for the fête. And while she nattered on, Bryony asked Emma a little bit more about it.
‘So, do you have stalls and competitions?’ said Bryony.
Emma’s finger shot to her lips.
‘Not so loud,’ she whispered. ‘Competitions and Miss Pigeon equals trouble. Double trouble, if you throw in Miss Parsley too!’
The Pony With No Name Page 7
