It’s Chances and Emily.
Emily’s face is tense and her hands are set on the reins. There’s no sign of Drake and I wonder if he even knows she taken the new arrival out. Somehow I doubt it. The horse should have been left to settle in after his long journey, not booted round the lanes. He needed space and quiet. Time to work out his new surroundings and just to be a horse. That’s basic common sense, surely? With every yank from the rider he’s becoming more tense and he’s the kind who only becomes sharper the more upset he gets. That floating trot and tossing head might look impressive but the horse surging and plunging beneath the rider is deeply unhappy.
“Stop jogging!” I hear Emily snap as she slaps the crop down onto his neck. Sweat foams, the veins stand out and I can hardly bear to watch. Every jab of the reins in that peach soft mouth makes me flinch and I feel my own pulse accelerate with each pinched step.
Maddy has slipped into my room and is watching Emily riding away. Her pale face is sad.
“Emily’s really mean,” she says.
I look at the horse, strapped down and bitted up, and being walloped for nothing more than protesting at the bad riding and discomfort. Yes, I think it’s true to say that Emily Lacey is very mean. I wish I could do something to help the horse and Maddy too. But what can I do?
How can somebody like me possibly compete with the girl who has everything?
Chapter 7
If I’d thought things were bad on my first day at school, it’s nothing compared to the rest of my week. Kate manages to cobble a uniform together so at least my form tutor leaves me alone. In the meantime, Emily does a great job of shooting me evil looks and making nasty comments when the teachers aren’t paying attention and has even accidentally spilled her drink in my bag. The rest of the kids are either too scared or too stupid to stand up to her so my first week at my new school is about as miserable as a first week can be.
I’ve texted Mum a few times but there’s still no reply. This means she’s either too ill to text, which really worries me, or she’s not paid her bill and has been cut off. That’s way more likely but I need to know for sure so, in a fit of desperation, I even call Dogood. This turns out to be pointless because she only tells me I mustn’t worry and everything’s going fine with Mum and she’s in the best place yada yada yada. I’m unconvinced because as far as I can see things are about as far from fine as they can possibly get. I do manage to reach my neighbour, Lynn, who tells me Scally’s fine but as the days roll by and there’s no sign of anyone coming to fetch me home I realise that this is serious. Mum is in hospital for a while this time, there really isn’t any where for me to go in Bristol and like it or not, I’m going to be stranded in Cornwall for the foreseeable.
After my conversation with Harry and Kate I feel a little wrong footed. I can see how hard Kate works to try and keep everything together at the farm and I can’t help admiring how Harry has taken over from his father in order to make her life easier. Harry works long hours, he’s always up and gone long before Maddy and I catch the school bus, and he’s never back indoors before dark. If Harry wishes he could be at college or living a normal eighteen-year-old life, he never says so. He never complains.
But you don’t do you? Not when you’re trying your best to look after someone you love.
I also see how much work the house and farm must take and I soon realise that flaking paint and broken hinges are the least of Kate’s problems. The house is warm, there’s always lots of food and the animals are well loved. The mud, dirty windows and air of shabby resignation all make perfect sense now. Everyone’s doing their best to make things work and pay to bills. Even Maddy collects eggs and cleans the hens out before school as well as having a list of chores to complete when she gets home. Kate’s out cleaning a lot of the time and when she isn’t she’s working on the farm too or tending the vegetable patch. My tried and tested master plan of being so difficult that my foster family can’t wait to send me home suddenly feels a little unfair.
In fact, worse than that. It feels totally wrong.
This is very bad news indeed for me because it means I am well and truly stuck until either a placement is found for me in Bristol, Mum gets better or I turn sixteen. I could be here a while.
At least Harry and Maddy can help Kate. I’m just seen as another problem my mum has to worry about. The social workers actually think she worries about me and view me as a hindrance. That hurts when I know it’s me who’s kept everything together. Goodness only knows what I’ll come home to. No after school jobs. No way of paying the bills. No keeping the house clean for weeks on end. We’ve probably got squatters by now.
Dogood can say what she likes; it’s all going to be ten times worse.
So on top of of worrying about Mum and Scally and the mess that I’ll come home to, the last thing I need is Emily Lacey being a cow. For some reason she’s totally taken against me, probably because I dared look at her horses. and she’s going out of her way to make my life a misery. The whispers of ‘skank’, rumour that I’m a gypsy and all the nasty comments about being another reject from Kate’s farm, I can ignore. I’ve met bigger and nastier than her before – you don’t survive the Shakespeare Estate without learning to pick your battles – and the deliberate knocking of my books onto the floor and the sniggers I can handle. I can even just about control my temper but the one thing I know I can’t handle is her knowing the truth. That would be unbearable. People can laugh at me all they like. I can take it. But laugh at Mum? No way. I hope she never finds out.
I keep all this to myself. Nobody would believe me anyway. Emily’s one of those butter wouldn’t melt types that teachers love and I know they’ll never listen to me. Why would they? I’ve been pegged as a trouble maker from day one. My form tutor must have had a bollocking for his ‘charity shop’ comment because he barely acknowledges me. I even wear my nose piercing but he just ignores it. My last school hasn’t sent my academic records across and so I’ve been placed in all the bottom sets where I spend most of my time doing word searches and colouring in while a supply teacher cowers in the corner. I stick it this out as best I can but it’s pretty soul destroying. Sometimes I get myself sent to exclusion just for some peace and quiet. At least there I can read without having to dodge flying text books and paper aeroplanes.
And as for becoming a vet? I think we can safely say that won’t happen now. My GCSE results aren’t going to set any records, that’s for sure.
By the middle of the second week I can’t take much more. Luckily I’ve figured out the buses so I hop off with Maddy then, once she’s safely inside, nip across the road and retrace my journey. For obvious reasons I can’t go back to the farm so instead I walk down the lane, skulking along the hedges so that Harry doesn’t spot me from his tractor, before I climb the gate into one of Malcolm Lacey’s paddocks.
The first two days I do this Drake’s ex eventer, Monty, and a couple of other horses that must belong Emily are turned out. They trot over with great interest when I first arrive, nudging my coat pockets for treats and huffing warm breath down my neck. Once they realise that I don’t have anything more interesting than my bus pass they soon amble away and I find myself a space under the trees at the far end of the paddock. I text my mum, check on Scally and then I do something my English teacher would never believe – I _settle down to read my set text. It’s amazing just how interesting Silas Marner is when you’ve nothing else to do. The bit about the adopted daughter choosing to stay with him over her real family makes me feel a bit queasy though. I’m never going to let that happen. No matter what, Mum is my mum and I have to be there for her.
Anyway, this morning things go pretty much as usual. Kate drops Maddy and I at the bus stop. We hop off again thirty minutes later. So far so ordinary. Maddy goes in through the gates, I pretend to then cross the road and catch the next bus back. The sun is out today and it’s a sparkly autumnal morning. The trees are on the change, orange splodges and gold specks blur by as the bu
s trundles along, and when I jump off and walk down the lane I can see my breath in the air. Luckily Kate has found me a coat from somewhere other wise I’d be in for a chilly day.
I climb the gate and drop into the paddock, heading for my favourite spot when I realise that somebody is already there. The usual horses have been moved and instead Chances is snoozing beneath the trees. His breath rises in plumes and when he hears me approach he snorts.
I stop in my tracks and the horse and I stare at one another, both wary and both a little put out at having our solitude interrupted. The he trots towards me, a floating magical trot that doesn’t even seem to touch the grass, and whickers softly. I don’t move but let him sniff me and blow warm breath against my face. Eyes dark and soft as black velvet regard me warily and I know one false move will send him plunging away down the field, hooves flying and tail streaming in the cold wind.
“Hello Chances,” I say.
He wickers softly and slowly, holding my breath, I stretch out my hand and touch his neck. The horse quivers under my finger tips. His nostrils flare and every nerve is poised to flee.
“It’s OK,” I tell him. “I’m not going to hurt you. In fact, I may even have something you’d like.”
Without making any sudden movements I slide my fingers into the rucksack I’ve been given for school and rummage around for the lunch box Kate insists on giving me every day. Yes, seriously. My foster mother actually makes packed lunches. No packets of crisps or chips in the school canteen for her children, home grown or fostered. The first time I peeled back the lid I nearly died of shock to find a sandwich made with home baked bread, a wad of flapjack and an apple. Jamie Oliver, eat your heart out I’d thought as I tucked in.
Right now I could give Kate a hug because today’s offering contains an apple. Sliding it out, I bite it into chunks which the Arab takes gently from my outstretched palm. While he munches happily I bury my face in his silken mane and breath in the smell of horse. Memories of fat riding school ponies come flooding back and in a heartbeat I’m twelve again, loving my riding and flying over the jumps while my proud parents watch.
It was another life. One before Dad left home and Mum and I had to move into the city and the flat on the estate. There weren’t any riding lessons after that.
“Are you in the naughty paddock?” I ask and Chances blows oaty breath at me. I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. I’ve seen Emily ride him a couple of times and it doesn’t look as though things are going well. The more she tightens the reins or choses a stronger bit the more upset Chances becomes. The horse needs gentleness and understanding, the more tense his rider is the worse he’ll become. I can see that so why can’t she?
As Chances crops the grass I’m struck by just how unfair life is. Here’s Emily with this beautiful horse, fleet of foot and with every line of his body, every twitch of his ears, every movement of his finely boned legs crying out how special he is and all she can do is kick and yank and bully. A horse like Chances can’t be bullied. Won’t be bullied. Instead he’ll fight and fight until something terrible happens. Then he’ll be labelled a bad horse, un-rideable, not worth bothering with…
Something starts to blow up inside me. I no longer see the paddock or feel the cold wind against my cheeks. Instead I hear the steady beat of hooves as I gather up my reins and turn towards a jump before soaring over it in a perfect arc…
My rucksack’s on the floor and my right hand clutches a chunk of mane. It’s been years but that doesn’t seem to matter because I remember exactly how to do this. There’s a warm and strong back beneath me, the gentle swell of flanks against my legs and the curve of arched neck in front of me. I vault onto his back and Chances doesn’t move but just pricks his ears as I lean forward and smooth his neck.
“Hello there boy,” I whisper.
I’m on a horse. How many years has it been? Four? Five? A long time anyway but in a weird way it feels like yesterday too. This is the most natural thing in the world and without doubt the best place to be. The coiled power beneath me makes my heart sing and without thinking twice or caring that I don’t have any tack, I touch Chances’ sides with my heels.
There’s a rush of cold air against my face as he explodes into a star fish buck. Hooves flash by my face as I slam onto the ground with a thump that knocks all the breath out of my body. While Chances tears down the paddock I lie in the grass and gasp for air. I don’t think I’ve broken anything but I don’t dare move for a moment. Instead, I stay still and try to suck some breath back into my lungs but even as my head pounds and the sky spins above me I’m thinking that with a buck like that Chances could jump Mars. I’ve never felt such power or such speed in my life. Imagine that pitted against the clock? It would be unbeatable!
I can’t wait to try again and this time I’ll be ready for him!
“What the Hell are you doing?”
For a moment I think I must have really hit my head hard because this looks and sounds just like Harry. He’s bending over me and scowling, which is very Harry because he seems to scowl a lot when I’m around. I sit up and rub my eyes but unfortunately he’s still there, wearing his green work overalls and looking furious.
I think, given the choice, I’d have preferred concussion.
“Riding?” I say, although it comes out like a squeak.
“Are you completely mad?”
I shrug. “Maybe. Perhaps it’s hereditary?”
“Don’t be flippant!” Harry roars. “You could have killed yourself.”
Hauling me to my feet, he adds, “Apart from that, which might make my life a lot easier, you’re trespassing on Malcolm’s land as well as riding his horse without permission. Do you want to make things even harder for Mum? Do you want to give him even more of an excuse to kick us out?”
I hadn’t even thought about this. Vaulting onto Chances had felt as instinctive as breathing. Nothing else mattered.
Harry looks like he wants to shake me until my fillings rattle. He towers over me and I realise just how tall and strong he is. Where Drake Owen is all sinew and honed riding physique, Harry is pure strength and bulked up muscle and power. When he checks me over for injuries like I’m one of the farm animals, I don’t protest. Those strong hands could probably snap me in two.
“Anyway, why aren’t you in school?” he demands, releasing me while I brush grass and mud off my trousers.
“Why are you spying on me?” I counter.
His top lip curls. “I’d hardly call driving my tractor down the lane spying, Amber. More like doing an honest day’s work which is something you clearly don’t know much about.”
I ignore this dig. “So you spooked Chances? Typical.”
“So this is my fault? Interesting. Please explain how you work that out since you’re a) truanting and b) joy riding?”
I’m aching like crazy from my fall. There wasn’t a lot of joy in this ride but next time it’s going to be better and there will be a next time, I know that much already.
“Look,” I say wearily, “there’s no point in me going to school. Trust me on this.”
“Says who?” Harry asks. “I thought you were supposed to be some kind of super brain? I’ve sneaked a peak at your records, just to make sure Mum hasn’t taken in a complete psycho, you’d do the same, and they say you’re clever. More than clever. Gifted and talented. You told me yourself you want to be a vet. So why truant?”
I look away. Chances is grazing at the far end of the paddock now. The flight of moments earlier is forgotten as he champs at the grass and whisks flies away with his tail. I wish I could leave my upsets behind so easily.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me,” Harry suggests. “You might be surprised.”
I don’t know why I tell him. Harry’s hardly my friend and he clearly thinks I’m a waste of skin. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s asked me? Or maybe I walloped my head harder than I realised? In any case as we climb the gate and walk towards his tractor I find myself tellin
g him about Emily and the bottom sets and the wrong uniform. I even tell him how worried I am that Mum isn’t answering her texts and that my neighbour says Scally isn’t settling. She also says she might have to rehome her because looking after a dog is taking far too much time. I nearly lose it when I get to this bit and I wait for Harry to tell me to pull myself together but he doesn’t. Instead, he listens patiently while I blurt it all out in a great big misery vomit.
It’s worse when he’s nice because now I feel dangerously close to tears and I never cry in front of anyone. Ever.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all that on you,” I say. I can’t look him in the face because if I see any sympathy I think I’ll crack.
“Blimey. Was that an apology? Did you actually say the ‘s’ word?”
Teasing. That’s more like it. Teasing I can handle.
I raise my chin.
“As if. I think your ears are playing up.”
“Probably,” Harry agrees. His lips twitch. “Of course, silly me. I would never have heard that from you.”
He pauses and a frown creases his forehead.
“What?”
“I’m just wondering what I can do to help. Can we talk to someone at school about it? Get the teachers to have a word with Emily?”
I laugh bitterly. “Like they’ll believe me against her. Come on, Harry. You didn’t leave school that long ago. You must remember how it works? Tatty, foster kid with a bad attitude versus the pretty posh girl with the rich daddy? Who do you think they’ll believe is the problem? Any interference will just make things a million times worse.”
For Maddy as well as me, I add silently.
Harry sighs. “Fine. I’ve known Emily Lacey long enough to know what you’re up against there. But Emily aside, what about your lessons? They can’t just dump you in the bottom sets. That isn’t fair.”
“Since when did fair come into it? They can and they have.” I force myself to look unconcerned. “Hey, it happens every time I change school so don’t worry about it. It’s not your problem.”
Chances Page 6
