Chances

by Ruth Saberton

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Harry says grimly. “The thing is, Amber, if you truant then it’s Mum who’s called to account and I can’t have any more stress on her. It isn’t fair.”

  Harry’s right; it isn’t. I know that.

  “We both know how these things work,” he continues, folding his arms and looking at me thoughtfully. “You’re nearly sixteen so they could find you a place in a hostel, couldn’t they? If they had to? You could go somewhere else.”

  Harry certainly knows his stuff. Yesterday Dogood phoned and told me exactly the same thing. Mum isn’t being discharged any time soon and there’s nowhere else for me to go in Bristol. Our flat isn’t an option either. Dogood thought there might be a hostel place at some point but the subtext was clear – I can’t go home and I can’t rescue Scally.

  So if I can’t go home then, hard as it is to admit it, I’d rather stay here. At least at Perranview Farm there are animals, horses next door and although Kate might fuss she’s a million times better than Auntie Sue. Even Harry isn’t too bad, I suppose.

  “So shall I drive you back to school and we’ll pretend this never happened? Or shall we call your social worker and get you moved to a hostel?” he asks.

  I glance across at Chances. The low sunshine turns his coat to fire and when he looks up at me at whinnies I know what my answer is. I have to ride this horse again. I have to.

  It looks like I’m going to have to strike another deal with Harry. This is getting to be a habit.

  “Take me back to school,” I say.

  Chapter 8

  After this encounter with Harry I don’t have much choice but to knuckle down. Luckily I’m used to surviving new schools and it’s easy enough to keep my head below the parapet. If I pretend I can’t hear Emily’s snide comments and do my best to stay out of her way, I’ll survive my time here. It might look as though I’ve given in by toning down the makeup and letting my hair colour fade but this is educational chess and my tactics are all about playing the long game. The hardest part is keeping my temper. When I feel it start to bubble I just imagine how it must feel to be Chances, strapped down and jabbed in the mouth, and I know that if he can bear it then so can I. There’s got to be a way out for both of us. I just need to figure out what it is.

  The only thing that makes life bearable is the Arab. I’ve been here almost three weeks and as kind as Kate and my social workers are they don’t understand how frustrating it feels to be so powerless. Thank God for horses. They don’t care who you are or what you’ve done. Horses only care about being looked after and the treats you bring them. Besides, things aren’t so different for Chances, are they? I watch Emily ride past most days and Chances’ wild eyes and stamping hooves break my heart because this is a horse of fire, born to gallop like flames licking through dry timber, not to be held in and bullied with harsh bits and gadgets. Short martingales and tight flash nosebands only make him panic. Why can’t Emily see that? And why isn’t Drake stopping her?

  I manage to slip down to Chances’ paddock most days and the horse comes cantering over now when I call him. I’ve always got an apple or a polo in my pocket and while he munches away I whisper nonsense to and scratch his withers. I haven’t attempted to sit on him again because my time with Chances is limited to snatched minutes here and there in between school and helping with the animals on the farm, but as soon as I get an opportunity I know I will.

  It’s Saturday morning and, after a fun filled hour cleaning out chickens and hanging washing, I’m walking down the lane to the paddock with pockets stuffed full of apples. Kate’s cleaning, Harry’s contracted out working on Malcolm’s estate and Maddy’s with him in the tractor, which leaves me free. There’s no news of Mum, apart from Dogood’s assurances that she’s doing well which may or may not be true, and our neighbour’s stopped replying to my texts about Scally. I haven’t spoken a word about this to anyone, much as Dogood would love me to crack and see the school counsellor. I don’t need to do that because I share all my darkest worries with Chances. He’s a good listener and he keeps all my secrets too. I’m not saying Harry hasn’t keep them but since our last conversation I’ve stayed away from him. He knows way too much about me now and, in my experience, that’s never a good thing. People who get too close only end up letting you down, don’t they? Look at my dad, for instance. He’s a prime example. Harry’s always working anyway and I don’t suppose he’s even noticed I’m not about. It’s not as if he even likes me.

  And anyway, why do I care if Harry Crewe doesn’t like me? I’m not here to be liked. I’m here because it’s only place they could dump me.

  I’m just turning left into the lane which hems Malcolm Lacey’s land when I hear the clatter of hoof beats heading towards me at speed. Seconds later Chances flies around the corner with stirrups and reins flying. Sparks fly from his metal shoes, foam flies from his mouth and his nostrils are blood red. There’s no sign of any rider but his heaving flanks and sweat flecked neck suggest he’s been ridden hard before finally having enough. Having experienced one of his bucks I’m not all surprised his rider has parted company with the saddle.

  “Hey, boy! Shhh!”

  I don’t think twice before stepping out to catch him. Taken by surprise, Chances skitters to a halt before rearing up and striking out with his forelegs. Cold air and a blur of hooves rush past my face as my fingers close around the reins and he snorts loudly.

  “It’s all right, Chances,” I soothe, running my hand down his hot neck. The veins stand up like cords and he trembles beneath my touch. “It’s all going to be fine.”

  Slowly, I feel him relax. I keep soothing and stroking and talking nonsense until Chances lowers his head, rests it on my shoulder and huffs hot breath against my neck. Several chunks of apple seem to cheer him up greatly and before long he’s nudging my arm for more.

  “What happened?” I murmur as I check his legs. “Did Emily fall off?”

  Chances doesn’t answer of course but the swinging stirrups and too tight girth speak volumes. I’ve only met Drake a couple of times but I’m sure he’d never fasten a flash noseband so tightly. I’m no fan of Emily’s but I can’t ignore the fact that she might be lying injured and afraid somewhere.

  “We have to find her, Chances,” I say, gathering the reins into my left hand and placing my foot in the stirrup. “Where did you come from?”

  I hop once, twice and swing up into the saddle. My right foot slides easily into the stirrup and although they’re a little short for me it feels as though I’ve been sitting up here all my life. Chances stiffens as he feels my weight on his back and I run my hand down his neck to reassure him.

  “It’s only me,” I say and one chestnut ear flicks backwards at the sound of my voice. “It’s all fine, boy. I’m here now.”

  I hold the reins loosely and I don’t even need to use my legs, just shifting my seat a little is enough to send him forwards. The energy and power beneath me is incredible, as far from the tired riding school ponies as it is possible to imagine, and it feels like I’m sitting on a coiled spring. Instantly I understand that tensing up on Chances is doomed to end in disaster so I force myself to relax, breathing slowly and talking to him as we walk down the road. Soon my reins are at the buckle and his head is lower, his jaw relaxed and his hind quarters stepping beneath him rather than crabbing sideways. The snatching of the bit and the dancing in the spot that I’ve seen so many times are replaced by a smooth stride and happily pricked ears.

  Now where did the horse come from? This lane ends at the paddock. To the left are the woods where I first saw Drake and Emily, to the right the drive up to the Rectory. Chances can’t have come that way because there’s a cattle grid which means Chances must have made his way through the woods. There’s no way out except for the five bar gate which he must have jumped before landing in the road and galloping towards the Crewe’s farm. Emily could be lying in the woods and nobody has any idea she’s there except for me. I suppose I don’t
have much choice but to retrace Chances’ journey.

  Which means I’ll have to jump the gate.

  My stomach flutters. That five bar gate is huge. It must be at least four feet high and it’s solid too. The riding school ponies would need a spring board to get over that and I’ve never jumped anything so big in my life.

  Until now.

  Before I can think too long about this, I’m gathering up the reins, collecting Chances up and pushing him into a steady canter. I fix my gaze somewhere in the dim greenness of the path beyond and ride at the gate with my heart thudding. Chances surges forward, his ears prick with excitement, there’s a rush of air against my face and we’re soaring up and over the gate. I don’t even have time to register that I’ve just cleared the biggest jump of my life because we’ve landed and are speeding along the woodland path in a floating canter that rapidly stretches into a gallop as Chances snatches the reins and heads for home.

  The unexpected freedom makes me laugh out loud. Chances is fleet of foot and covers the ground smoothly, twisting and turning along the track and leaping fallen logs and piles of brash. It feels like flying and for a brief moment I forget everything except the horse beneath me and the pure joy of speed. Then I remember why we’re actually here and, sinking deeper into the saddle, I ask Chances to steady. He flings his head up into the air, narrowly missing my face, and leaps sideways but when he finds there’s no pressure on his mouth and nobody trying to fight him he relaxes into a trot and finally a walk.

  I pat his neck with a hand that’s shaking with a mixture of adrenalin and excitement.

  “Nice to know you have brakes,” I say.

  Reins loose again, I let Chances pick his way along the track. There’s no sign of Emily though. Before long the trees thin out and the Rectory appears. We’ve covered a mile at least in a loop around Malcolm Lacey’s land and I can’t think of anywhere else Chances could have been. He clearly knows his way through the woods and the soft track is scored with hoof prints. If Emily’s fallen off here I imagine she’s managed to make her way home. Maybe a wallop on the head will have turned her into a nicer person?

  We can live in hope, I suppose.

  The stables are straight ahead and as we approach Chances whinnies. Several horses answer and he tosses his head and starts to jog and dance. I ride into the yard with a clatter and instantly Drake comes running with Emily, alive and kicking but with tell tale smears of mud on her cream jodhpurs, hard on his heels.

  “What on earth are you playing at?” Drake grabs my reins and glowers up at me. “You could have broken your neck!”

  I lean forward and pat Chances’ glossy neck. The Arab’s standing still and it’s hard to imagine I’m in any danger.

  “Oh chill out,” I say airily. “He’s been good as gold. We had a great ride back through the woods.”

  Drake stares at me. “You’re telling me you rode him through the woods?”

  I nod.

  “Where did you find him?”

  “Tearing down the lane towards Kate’s place. Much further along and he’d have been on the main road.”

  Drake’s eyebrows shoot into his dark hair. “I never thought for a minute he’d jump out on his own. No wonder I couldn’t find him in the woods.” Then he frowns. “Hold on. How did on earth did you get back in? That gate’s always locked. Malcolm has the only key.”

  “I thought somebody must have fallen off him in the woods so I popped him over the gate and rode through in case they were hurt,” I explain. “Hi, Emily. Glad to see you’re not hurt after your tumble. Don’t feel bad. It happens to us all.”

  “Get off my horse!” Emily hisses. If looks could kill I’d be dead at her Dubarry booted feet. “You’ve got no right to be on him.”

  “At least I am on him though,” I say sweetly as I kick my feet out of the stirrups and slide off. Unused to riding after all this time my legs feel like boiled noodles and I stagger as my trainers hit the cobbles. “Tell me, Emily, where did you come off? In the woods? Or at the gate?”

  As we bristle at one another, Drake runs a hand through his dark hair and sighs. “Come on girls, cut the squabbling out. Amber, you took a crazy risk riding Chances but we owe you big time for bringing him home and for looking for Emily too, right Em?”

  Emily shoots me an ugly look. We both know they’ll be ice skating in Hell before she’ll thank me.

  “She shouldn’t have been on him at all. A novice could wreck a horse like that.”

  “You’re welcome,” I say as she snatches the reins from Drake. “Happy to help.”

  “I hardly think Amber’s a novice,” Drake says. He’s regarding me now, a long, searching look from those deep brown eyes and one which makes me feel shaky. I stare back at him and my heart thuds like Chances’ hooves on the damp earth. “No novice would be able to ride that horse at a walk, let alone jump him over a five bar gate.”

  Emily snorts rudely.

  “All gyppos can stick on, Drake. It’s what they do,” she says nastily and with this charming parting shot stalks away, tugging Chances behind her by the bit ring. Drake winces but he doesn’t say anything. What can he say? Chances is Emily’s horse.

  “Well?” I ask.

  “Well what?”

  “Isn’t this the part where you tell me that she’s all right really and didn’t mean what she just said?”

  He grimaces. “Not today. That was unforgivably rude. The only thing I will say in her defence –”

  “You’re going to defend her?” I raise my eyes to the sky. Maybe I should dye my hair blonde next time? It seems to turn guys’ brains to cream cheese.

  “Let me finish, Rumplestiltskin,” Drake says. “I was going to say that in her defence you’ve totally shown her up. Em’s really struggling with Chances and seeing you ride up with him so chilled is a massive blow to her ego.”

  I don’t comment but I think we can safely say Emily’s ego is big enough to handle this.

  “You’ve been keeping your talents very well hidden,” Drake continues. He crosses his arms over his dark blue Ariat jacket and grins. “Well, it’s no use pretending you only ride a bit now. I’ve seen what you can do and I’m impressed. There aren’t many who can ride a horse like that. Like I told you before, he’s talented but tricky. I’m not sure what the answer is.”

  “Really? I think the answer’s obvious. Take the gadgets off and let him go forward,” I say.

  Drake nods thoughtfully. “You could be right but I don’t think Emily will go for that somehow. She’s all about control.”

  I open my mouth to say that she’s a bully but shut it fast. Drake says Emily isn’t his girlfriend but it’s obvious he fancies her and her father pays his wages. After hearing Harry’s story about how the Owen family lost their farm I totally get that Drake has to play a careful game. His eventing career depends on keeping Mal and Emily sweet.

  “So now your secret’s out and this time I’m not taking no for an answer,” Drake adds.

  “Answer to what?”

  “You coming to work for me. An hour every evening after school and all day at the weekends. What do you say? I need somebody with guts to help bring on my youngsters and from what I’ve seen today you’re just the girl for the job. You’ve got talent too.”

  For a second excitement rises in me like a hot air balloon let off a string before it comes crashing back down.

  “I don’t think Emily will like that much.”

  “It’s not Emily’s decision,” Drake says firmly. “I run this yard and my eventers my way and I hire people I believe can do the job. I’m warning you, there’ll be a lot of mucking out and chores to get through before you’re allowed anywhere near a horse. So, Rumplestiltskin, what do you say?”

  Three weeks ago I was living on the Shakespeare Estate, looking after Mum and hiding from the bailiffs. Drake Owen was just a name from magazines and a face smiling out at me from the shelves of the local newsagent’s. Now he’s standing opposite me, male model gorgeous
in cream breeches and black boots, telling me I’ve got talent and offering me a job on his yard.

  I feel like pinching myself.

  “Well?” he asks, holding out his hand, I reach out my own and smile. “What do you say?”

  “I say yes,” I tell him.

  A job at Drake’s yard means I can save money up for Mum, pay for Scally and even help Kate a little too. But most of all it means I’ll get to see Chances every day and make his life a little more bearable.

  There was only ever one answer really, wasn’t there?

  Chapter 9

  It’s another glorious autumnal day and the sunshine is streaming in through the classroom window. While the other students amuse themselves by playing on their mobiles or throwing things around the room I’m busy sketching Chances. Now and again I glance outside and dream about leaping onto his back, jumping the tatty playground fence to gallop over the hills and far far away. God, I wish I could do that. I’ve not ridden him again but the memory of the way Chances leapt the five bar gate and the ease of that stride as it covered the ground has stayed with me. I relive it far more than I probably should do, usually when I’m mucking out or scrubbing buckets, and I’m living for the time when it might happen again.

  Hmm. That’s as likely right now as me getting an A grade on this science essay I’m supposed to be writing. There’s no way I can concentrate with all the din going on in the classroom. The teacher is engrossed in her laptop – she’s probably on Facebook – and shows no sign of looking up and attempting to control the class. Not that she could if she tried. A lion tamer would struggle with this bunch. It takes all my will power not to leave my seat and slip out of the room. Only my promise to Harry and the fact that I’m enjoying working at the stables keeps me sitting down.