Take Chances for instance. Try as I might I can’t put him out of my mind. Every night I drift off to sleep reliving our gallop through the woods and feeling the power beneath me as his muscles coiled before he sprung over the gate. Seeing him yanked about by Emily is unbearable and if I can make his life easier in any small ways while I’m at the yard then that’s what I’ll do. After my yard chores were done I wandered down to the paddock and gave him a handful of pony nuts and a scratch behind the ears. He whickered when he saw me and trotted over with that magical floating gait that hardly seems to touch the grass. He was in disgrace after the incident with Emily and Drake, joining me at the gate, was far too professional to criticize but I could tell he was losing patience.
“If things don’t improve soon I can’t see Emily keeping Chances. He’s not going to win the big classes she’s got her heart set on,” Drake confided, leaning across and running his tanned hand down the Arab’s neck.
“He could easily win,” I’d said, stung on Chances’ behalf. “He’s a fantastic horse and he jumps like he’s got wings. And his paces are gorgeous. He’d wipe the floor in the dressage.”
“With his turn of speed he’s incredible in a jump off,” Drake sighed. “He’s got it all but he’s a tricky one but we knew that when he bought him. A horse like Chances could go either way.”
“But he’s amazing. Can’t you ride him?”
He shook his head. “I’m too heavy. Besides, I’ve got enough on with my own horses and Chances belongs to Mal who’ll only see him as a business expense to move on.”
I’d only met Malcolm Lacey once. A red faced man wearing beige cords and a check coat he’d seemed pleasant enough as he’d chatted to Drake about Emily’s progress but it didn’t strike me that he knew much about horses. I supposed he didn’t have to though, all he needed to do was sign the cheques.
“The trouble is, Em won’t want to put the time in,” Drake sighed. “She’s got talent but she doesn’t want to work at it and horses like Chances needs consistent schooling to build a relationship. He needs to trust his rider. Things go badly wrong and fast for a horse like him otherwise.”
My stomach lurched. If Chances didn’t behave Emily would sell him on. Drake’s meaning was clear; Chances’ future was bleak if he didn’t settle down. I had to do something to help him.
I had to.
Recalling this conversation, I make a decision. It’s not one Drake will approve of, Harry certainly won’t like it and Kate, if she ever finds out, will totally freak but I don’t think I have any choice. If I don’t help Chances then he’ll hurt himself or Emily or both of them so I’m going to school him myself.
I know. It’s mad, but since being mad runs in the family that’s my excuse. The truth is I know I can ride Chances and I know I can help him too. The really crazy thing is to stand back and do nothing.
“Dinner won’t be for a while,” Kate straightens up from placing a large casserole dish in the Aga. “Harry’s not due home for another hour. He’s just called and said he’s driving past Exeter.”
Maddy looks up in surprise. “Why’s he in Exeter?”
“He’s been out,” her mother replies. We both wait for an explanation but Kate turns her attention to rinsing a saucepan and any questions we might have won’t be heard anyway above the clatter of cast iron pots.
“Harry never goes anywhere,” Maddy says, puzzled.
It’s true. Harry is tied to the farm. If he isn’t ploughing or planting or doing things with the stinky muck spreader he’s crashed out on the sofa or shoveling up huge amounts of food. I think he’s visited to the local town once since I’ve been here but I could be wrong.
“Maybe he’s met a girl. On the Internet?” Maddy continues, her eyes wide.
I think this highly unlikely. Harry wouldn’t be interested in meeting girls. He’s far too busy. Whenever I catch him browsing he’s drooling over tractors, not Tinder.
Still. Not my business. Harry can do whatever he likes and while Kate continues to clatter and Maddy returns to her homework, I slip out the back door. My homework will have to fester in the bottom of my bag for a bit longer because I have far more important things to do.
The farm yard must have been beautiful in its hey day. There are cobbles, big stone barns with enormous timber frames and a row of stables where once upon a time cart horses must have tugged at hay nets. Now these house Harry’s tractor and trailer as well as a load of other farm yard stuff I don’t have a clue about and gangly weeds poke through the cobbles. Nobody here as time to tend the yard; they’re all far too busy worrying about making ends meet, I get that now, and I do feel guilty about the nasty comments I made when I first arrived.
At the end of the stable block is an old harness room where tarnished brasses hang from rusting nails and cobwebs are draped over tack that’s grown stiff with age and neglect. Like a lot of things at Perranview Farm this must have all been totally amazing in it’s hey day but now it feels sad and lonely and rather unloved.
I’ve only been inside the old harness room once when Maddy showed me the old buildings. It was dark and dusty so we hadn’t stayed long but it was enough time for me to notice an array of bits and bridles lined up on pegs. Somewhere in here I know I’ll find something that will fit Chances. With the saddle soap I’ve borrowed from the Rectory and a bit of hard work I’ll have something that should work. I’ll have to ride bareback but I’ll take the risk. I used to ride bareback all the time when I helped at the riding school.
The light in the harness room is dim and the electricity has been long disconnected so it takes a while for my eyes to adjust. When they do I soon find what I’m looking for – a simple cavesson bridle with plaited leather reins and a very grubby snaffle. Chances’ bit is expensive, golden and gleaming, so this will be a bit of a come down. On the other hand, at least I won’t haul him about like Emily and with a bit of elbow grease I can make this bit as good as new. Tack cleaning’s something I’m getting very good at since I started working for Drake.
I unhook the bridle. The leather feels hard and brittle beneath my finger tips. I wonder how long it is since it was last cleaned? And who did it belong to? Not the farmer’s cob or one of the plough horses, that’s for sure because it’s far too small. I suppose it belonged to a pony or small horse, perhaps belonging to the children, and long since forgotten. For some reason this thought makes me feel really sad.
Bridle firmly in my grasp, I retreat to my room on the pretext of doing some homework but in reality to fill the sink with warm water and soap the hard leather until my fingers turn all wrinkly. I lay the pieces out on a towel and then turn my attention to the bit, soaking it in a mug full of hot water until all the grime and dried on grass fall away. Then I buff it with my tasseled scarf until it gleams, my fingers tingle and I’ve got a shiny loose ring snaffle. I’m just about to make a start on oiling the leather when there’s thudding of paws up the attic stairs, followed by the scrabbling of claws and whining.
“Hold on, Saffy,” I call, wiping my hands dry on my school trousers and laying the brow band alongside the cheek pieces. I open the door but rather than a solid mass of black fur hurling itself my legs I’m greeted by a bouncing ball of white and ginger fluff.
It’s my dog, Scally.
No way. It can’t be!
Scally barks and barks before leaping into my arms and covering my face in wet doggy kisses.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, squeezing her tightly and burying my face in her wiry coat. “How on earth did you find me?”
Then the penny drops. Harry went to fetch her. That’s why he’s been gone all day on a mysterious errand and why he was driving back along the motorway earlier. Harry went all the way to Bristol to find Scally. He listened when I told him how worried I was about her but more than that – he’s actually done something to make it right.
This has to be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.
Still hugging Scally, I fly down the stai
rs and burst into the kitchen where I find Harry and Kate looking very smug.
“Surprised?” Harry asks.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything,” he grins. “The look on your face says it all. I’m glad you’re pleased.”
“I’m more than pleased! I’m over the moon!” I gently lower Scally to the floor and instantly Saffy and the cat come over to say hello. While they sniff and wag their tails and hiss, depending on species, I pat her head and do my best to get control of my emotions.
“She’s really pleased to see you. As soon as Harry arrived she knew you were here. She jumped out of his arms and raced up the stairs,” Kate remarks. “She’s a very clever dog, Amber.”
“I know.” I’m still unable to speak much.
“Is she living here now?” Maddy wants to know. She crouches down next to Scally and strokes her, laughing delightedly when my dog rolls over to have her tummy tickled.
“Of course. Scally is welcome to stay here for as long as Amber does,” Kate replies.
“She’ll love it here,” Maddy says. There’s a determined expression on her face. “I expect she’ll want to stay forever.”
Kate lays a gentle hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Amber’s only here for a while, love. She will go home again at some point.”
Home. That reminds me. Harry’s been to the Shakespeare Estate. In his country boots and waxed jacket he must have stood out a mile. In fact, he’s lucky to make it out alive.
I hope he wasn’t mugged.
“How was Lynn? Did she mind you taking Scally?” I ask.
“Your neighbour’s an interesting lady.” Harry leans against the Aga, arms crossed over his plaid shirt, and winks. “Let’s say she didn’t seem the type who’d walk a dog.”
“The furthest Lynn goes is to the fridge,” I say.
“No wonder she was so happy to let me take Scally,” he grins. “I had to leave a contribution towards her expenses though. What on earth does your dog eat? Fillet steak? Thirty quid’s worth?”
He has been mugged.
“I’ll pay you back,” I promise. I’ll clean twice as much tack, muck out twenty stables, take all the abuse Emily throws at me if it means I can repay Harry.
“Don’t be daft. I wanted to do it. It’s worth every penny not to see your usual sulky glower. Puts me right off my food, seeing that across the table every meal time.”
“I can’t say I’d noticed,” I shoot back and he laughs.
“Talking of food,” Kate says, “I’ve cooked a celebration curry to welcome Scally to Perranview. Maddy, get some plates from the dresser for us, please, and I’ll dish up.”
As Maddy sets the table, Harry joins me and pats Scally. She likes him and jumps into his arms, licking his chin and barking.
“You’re a bit lighter than Saffy,” he remarks. “Maybe you can ride in the tractor while your mum’s at school. Would you like that?”
Scally barks.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Harry says.
“Thank you,” I say. “I don’t know why you did that, but thank you. It was really kind.”
“That’s what friends do, Amber. They’re kind to each other. Not everyone’s out to get you, you know,” he says quietly.
I think the jury’s still out there but as we sit at the table I can’t help thinking I’ve never in my whole life had a friend as kind as Harry Crewe.
And hold on. Harry says he’s my friend. How on earth has that happened?
I’m not sure what’s changed but something has. The spiky feeling I usually have when I’m with Harry isn’t there anymore. Instead I feel warm and safe and happy.
It’s weird.
And it’s also very, very nice.
Chapter 11
It’s ridiculous how much noise a house makes at night. I’m sure in the day time the stairs don’t creak so loudly or the hinges on the kitchen door groan as much. Even my socked feet echo when I pad across the flagstones. Just as well Saffy and Scally are in the boot room because they’d have given the game away for sure. The last thing I need is Kate catching me in the act. Fully dressed and clutching a bridle in my hands, I don’t think the excuse that I’m thirsty would have worked.
Luckily for me everyone else is sleeping soundly. Harry’s exhausted from the drive to Bristol and I hold my breath as I tiptoe past his door because he’d know in a heart beat exactly what I’m up to. It’s freaky with Harry; it’s like he can read my mind and knows exactly what I’m planning almost before I know myself. I’ve got nowhere to go if he’s in my head!
I’m still reeling from the kindness of his driving all the way to Bristol to bring Scally back for me. I still don’t really understand why he did it. I’ve been nothing but trouble for him and Kate since I arrived and project get sent home must have given them a fair few headaches. I feel like the world’s turned upside down. Things I thought were true maybe aren’t and things I thought I wanted I’m not so sure about anymore. I mean, I of course I want to go home to to Mum but I’m also starting to like it here too. Am I being disloyal?
My head starts to ache so I shove all these worries aside and step outside. It’s a beautiful clear night with the moon smiling over the orchard and the dark sky sprinkled with stars. As I walk down the lane to the stables I hear owls calling, the distant bark of a fox and the world seems full of possibilities.
The paddock is silvered by the moonlight and a dark shape at the far side shifts at my approach.
“Chances!” I call softly as I climb the fence.
There’s whicker in reply and a shadow breaks into a canter. Seconds later Chances buries his soft muzzle in the pony nuts I’ve crammed into my pockets. I loop the reins over his neck, slip the bit into his mouth and the head piece over his ears. Once the throat lash is buckled I slide across from the fence onto Chances’ warm back.
“Ready to ride?” I whisper.
It’s lucky for me that it’s a moonlit night because otherwise it would be hard to see. The paddock is roughly a square in shape and in my mind’s eye I work out a school. C is up there by the oak tree and A is right down by the fence. It’s all a bit wonky and we’re on a bit of a slope but as I walk Chances around on a loose rein I pick out where I think the other markers might be. I’ve watched Drake and Emily schooling for long enough to have memorized the positions and I can remember some of the exercises I used to do at the riding school. There are circles and serpentines and leg yields to do and maybe some counter canter and figures of eight too. I know Chances can do it all. I just hope I’m good enough to do him justice.
I push him into a trot and for the first couple of laps it takes all my concentration to stay on. Chances shies and tries to run away with me like he does with Emily but I’ve seen enough of their pulling war to know I must soften my hands and use my stomach and shoulders to slow the gait. By the time he’s going nicely and in something resembling an outline my stomach muscles are screaming. I grit my teeth and ask for canter. At the very least I’ll have ripped abs after all this!
Chances’ canter is as bouncy as a rubber ball and the power in his stride makes my heart swell as we circle and do figures of eight. I feel the Arab settle beneath me and start to focus on his work, accepting the bit and pushing forwards with his hind quarters. The reins are elastic in my hands and his mouth peachy soft as he takes the contact. I’m no expert on dressage but I’m sure this is good, good enough even for a three-day-event…
All of a sudden there’s a rustle in the trees and Chances spooks sharply. Deep in day dreams of competing at Badminton my concentration isn’t on the horse beneath me and before I know it I’m on the floor while he kicks up his hooves and canters to the far side of the paddock. For a few minutes I lie on my back looking up at the stars and gasping, before horrible images of caught reins and sore mouths galvanize me to limp across the paddock and catch him.
Chances is cropping the grass and doesn’t seem any the worse for this. I check
him over quickly and then take his bridle off. I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead and still in one piece. I offer him a Polo which he takes with velvet soft lips.
“Same time tomorrow?” I ask.
In answer, Chances nudges the crook of my arm which might mean yes or might mean more Polos. In any case, there’s more of both. I’m really pleased with our evening’s schooling. Chances has proved beyond all doubt that he can go nicely and hopefully he’ll remember some of this next time Emily rides him. Just imagine what he could do in a proper arena and with a saddle! I feel almost dizzy with excitement.
Still, all that’s a while away and even if it does happen I don’t suppose I’ll be the girl in the saddle. Real life doesn’t work like that. I scratch the horse’s neck under the mane in the place I know he likes and then I leave him in the darkness. It’s nice to dream.
“You look very pale, love,” Kate remarks a few days later. “Do you feel all right? Or do you think you’re coming down with something?”
It’s early on Saturday morning and I’m slumped at the kitchen table, doing my best not to fall asleep face first in my bowl of porridge. I’m working all day at the stables, no doubt Emily will have thought of some really great chores for me like scrubbing stable matts or unblocking drains, and I’m trying to keep my eyes open. I’ve ridden Chances every night this week and the lack of sleep is getting to me. I fell asleep in registration yesterday which gave Emily the opportunity to hide my bag and make me late for my first lesson. I picked up a detention and then another when I fell asleep in French. The only thing that kept me from losing the plot was the secret knowledge that the previous night Chances had cantered perfect figures of eight with flying changes and had executed a beautiful half pass too. We’d even jumped the paddock post and rails four times, Chances flying over the fence easily. When Emily had ridden him earlier he’d raced around the school with a hollow back and his nose poked in the air. Even the draw reins she insisted on were hardly working and, knowing just how beautifully he could go in a simple snaffle and without a martingale, I could hardly bear to watch.
Chances Page 9
