A HORSE CALLED SEPTEMBER

by Anne Digby

  At that moment Mr Dewar, who had seen the vet to his car, came back into the stable. His friend Michael was no longer with him. Seeing her husband alone, and forgetting Mary's presence in the stable, Mrs Dewar suddenly released all her pent-up emotion.

  'You're a fool, Richard! I heard what you did out there! You made Anna take the horse over that jump before he was ready! This is all your fault!'

  'What do you mean "before he was ready"?' snapped Mr Dewar. 'I've been training him for weeks. He could have jumped it if he wanted to: look at the times he's done it! The animal's a rogue, I tell you. He's become completely unreliable this summer, and that's all there is to it.'

  As Mr Dewar paused for breath Mary, hot with embarrassment, noisily shifted the saddle to another place, anxious to remind the family of her presence. But they were too heated and upset to notice or care.

  'He's only been erratic because Anna had gone away. She's back now. If only you'd given him a day or two to get used to her again —'

  'This is nonsense, Sarah. September's been a fine jumper in his time, after all it was I who spotted his talents in the first place, but he's finished now. Not just because of the accident, but the way he muffed the jump in the first place. You should have seen the way he took that jump! Useless. I'm beginning to think it's a good thing this has happened. We would have gone on hoping September could win the Western Counties' and he would have let us down. Well he's lame now. And the more I think about it, the more I can see the hand of Fate in it.'

  Mrs Dewar looked at her husband in total bewilderment.

  'What on earth do you mean, Richard? The hand of Fate? You've dreamed for months now of Anna winning the Western Counties' –you've talked about nothing else. Everything's revolved round it, even' – there was a tinge of bitterness in her voice –'even Anna going away to school, and having special instruction. Now you talk calmly about Fate.'

  'You don't understand.' There was that strange light in Mr Dewar's eyes that Mary had seen before. 'Anna is going to win the Western Counties'. Now this has happened we can be certain of it. As long as it's not too late by George, I hope it isn't – I'm going to buy her King of Prussia.'

  'What-at?' gasped Mrs Dewar. At the same moment Anna leapt to her feet and came out of September's loose box. She had been kneeling with him all this time, but now, rubbing the back of her sleeve across her tearstained cheek, she too stared at her father in amazement.

  'What did you say, Daddy?'

  'Richard!' Mrs Dewar was placing a hand on her husband's arm. 'You don't know what you're saying. This is becoming madness. We've gambled everything on September, on sending Anna to Kilmingdean, there's nothing left to gamble. There's no possible way we can buy that horse.'

  'I can sell the car,' said Mr Dewar shortly. 'And I shall.'

  'The car?'

  The astonishment felt by Anna and her mother was felt equally by Mary. Mr Dewar's car was several years old, but it was one of the most expensive models in Britain. It was always kept in beautiful condition, polished and gleaming. It was truly his pride and joy.

  'That's what I said. We can drive around in the old farm van for a while, until –' he placed an arm round his daughter's shoulders and smiled at her, '– Anna puts everything right for us.'

  'Oh, Daddy,' she smiled at him through her tears, 'I know you've sort of got money worries or something, but I can put everything right, I know I can, if you buy King. Oh —!' she clapped her hands to her cheeks in excitement tinged with fear. 'I hope we're not too late! Suppose they've already got another buyer for him!'

  'Come along, we'll soon find out. We're going to ring the school. Come to my office. You can listen while I put through the call.'

  Without so much as a backward glance at September, Anna went out of the stable with her father. Mrs Dewar followed them. As soon as they had gone, Mary rushed and opened the door of September's loose box and knelt down beside him.

  He looked so helpless lying there, still in some pain, but quiet and uncomplaining. Everything had happened with such horrible suddenness that Mary's mind had scarcely been able to grasp it. But now the full force of her emotions hit her.

  'They've forgotten about you already! They've just left you lying here. Oh, my poor sweet love —'

  September whinnied and nudged Mary with his muzzle. At that moment her anguish became unbearable and she leapt to her feet and raced out of the stable into the farm yard. Anna and her father had already disappeared inside the house, but Mrs Dewar was lingering by the dry stone wall outside, pulling up some weeds that were choking the flowers at the foot of the wall.

  As Mary raced up to her she straightened up and frowned.

  'Oh, hello, Mary. You were still in the stable —'

  'Yes, I'm sorry, I heard but—' The words came out in a choking sob: 'What's going to become of September? You must tell me, you must.'

  'Don't cry, child.'

  'What will become of him?' said Mary fiercely.

  'He will have to be sold, I'm afraid.' Mrs Dewar broke the news as gently as she could 'We cannot possibly afford to keep two animals. I expect Mr Dewar will try and find a local buyer. Someone who's prepared to nurse him, and take a chance on his getting over his lameness. There must be somebody who would like to buy such a fine horse.'

  Mary turned to walk away, but Mrs Dewar called her back.

  'In the meantime you must look after him, Mary. I know he couldn't be in better hands. See if he'll take something to eat now. Later on Mr Dewar will show you how to change his poultice. It has to be done three times a day.'

  Mary nodded, grateful to have a practical job of work to do.

  That evening she pleaded with her father that they should make an offer for September, just as she had begged him so long ago to be allowed to keep the pony that Mr Dewar had wanted to sell. Mr Wilkins had been adamant then, he was even more adamant now.

  'Us buy a lame horse and keep him and pay his upkeep? You're wasting your breath, girl, asking me, and you know it.'

  Later, when he heard Mary crying herself to sleep in bed that night, he came into her little room and awkwardly bent over her bed and touched her on the shoulder.

  'I didn't mean to speak like that, girlie. I know how you love that animal. Sometimes I wish I was a rich man, and that's a fact.'

  The Dewars succeeded in buying King of Prussia from Kilmingdean School. He would arrive in about one week's time. Mary did not learn this news from Anna, who kept carefully out of her way, but from one of the farm hands. In the meantime, Mr Dewar was trying to find a buyer for September.

  Two or three times when Mary was in the stable tending the horse, the farmer arrived with prospective buyers who wished to inspect the animal. Each time her heart would lurch and she would look at their faces, to see if they looked kind, and would give September a good home.

  Soon it was common gossip around the farm that Mr Dewar could not find a buyer for September. For two days Mary went around the farm feeling a sense of comfort. If no one wanted to buy September in his present condition, then at least he would have to stay at Chestnut Farm for a few more weeks, and she would have the joyful task of nursing him back to health.

  For Mary, reading books on the subject, was becoming more and more convinced that if she could be the one in charge of September's health, she could nurse him back to complete recovery.

  On the third day, the day that King of Prussia was due to arrive from Kilmingdean, Mary's father sent her on an errand after breakfast. It was to the village post office, four miles away, and she went by cycle.

  On the way back she heard a large vehicle coming up the narrow one-track lane that led from the farm, and she pulled into the hedge and waited for it to pass. It was a tall enclosed van, painted cream with blue lettering on the side. It was only as she cycled on her way that the words written on the van registered on her mind :

  Rickards of Silverstock Licensed Horse Slaughterers

  TEN

  TO SAVE SEPTEMBER


  Mary jammed on her cycle brakes so hard that she almost went over the handlebars. She slewed the bike round in the narrow lane and started pedalling furiously back the way she had come, in pursuit of the van.

  It had turned a corner now but she could see its roof peeping above the high hedges of the lane as it bumped slowly along towards the main road. Panting for breath she turned the same corner and saw its back quite clearly as it stopped at the 'T' junction. There were the words again, painted blue on cream, across the double doors at the back: Rickards of Silverstock.

  So she had not imagined it!

  The vehicle drew out into the main road, turning right, and disappearing from view. It had been to Chestnut Farm to collect something and was now speeding on its way back to Silverstock.

  Mary braked when she reached the main road, and rested her head for a moment on the handlebars. Her body was racked with sobs and her eyes were blinded with tears.

  'September!' she moaned. 'September!'

  To think she had felt complacent for the past two days, ever since she had realized that Mr Dewar could not find a buyer for the lame horse. She had fondly imagined that she would have September for a few weeks longer, would be given the satisfaction of nursing him back to health! The obvious fate for the animal had never even occurred to her. Mr Dewar had sold September to a horse dealer. He was going to be shot.

  'No!' she cried aloud. 'I won't let them kill you – I won't – I won't—'

  She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand, stood hard on the pedals and shot out into the main road, turning right to Silverstock.

  'I haven't a hope of catching up with the van, but I've got to get there as fast as I can. Before —'

  Before it's too late; before they shoot September, whispered her thoughts.

  She cycled like the wind, a wild distraught figure, her hair streaming out behind her, through all the little hamlets and villages on the road to Silverstock. White thatched cottages and red brick inns and green fields with cows grazing passed by her in a blur, as her feet pummelled the pedals and her breath came in gasps.

  Throughout that nightmare journey she had a vision of September in her mind's eye, the animal she loved more than anything in the world, being led into some terrible dark building with a blanket over his head. He would be alone and friendless and very frightened, he would sense that he had been abandoned. And then a shot would ring out—

  Mary's body trembled all over. Supposing it was happening now! Supposing at this very moment the shot was being fired and when she arrived September would be dead. There were some cross-roads ahead, with a signpost. Silverstock 5 miles it told her, as she flashed by. She had already covered an enormous distance without even noticing it; she would reach the town in a little over half an hour!

  As at last her bike turned into the wide main street of the Devonshire market town, she was almost at the end of her strength. Her heart was pounding and her temples were throbbing. Her legs were aching so much that she felt she could pedal no more. She let herself free wheel down the gently sloping street, focusing her attention on a distant policeman.

  When she at last drew level with him, she had recovered her breath a little, and tried to sound matter-of-fact as she spoke to him.

  'Could you direct me to Rickards, please?'

  'You have to turn left down Lower High Street, miss,' he said, looking at her dishevelled appearance with some curiosity. 'Then you take the third turning on the right, Bear Alley, and the slaughterhouse is facing you at the end—'

  At the word 'slaughterhouse' Mary's face took on a yellowish tinge and she thought for a moment that she would be sick.

  'Is anything wrong, miss? Can I help?'

  'N-no nothing, thank you!' she stuttered.

  Somehow her feet found the pedals and she hurried on her way.

  As the wheels of her bike bumped over the cobbles of Bear Alley she could see the big building at the end. It looked like a warehouse, with big double doors. They were firmly closed. Was September inside there now?

  She propped her bike up against a wall and ran over to those doors, pressing her ear against them. At that moment a cloud sailed in front of the sun and the whole sky seemed to turn dark. The building looked gaunt and gloomy now and there was a chilling silence everywhere.

  'September?' she whispered. 'Are you in there?'

  The only reply was the sound of her own heartbeat, throbbing in her ears.

  A narrow tarmac service road ran round the side of the building. She walked along it, in the shadow of the high building, past a sign that said PRIVATE STRICTLY NO ADMITTANCE. Then she found herself in a huge yard at the rear of the building and there, parked in front of her, was the tall narrow van, its doors firmly closed.

  'September!' she cried, racing forward.

  She pummelled on the back of the van.

  'September!'

  For a moment she thought the van was empty, and that all her worst fears were justified.

  Then she heard restless movements inside the van.

  'September!'

  A long, low whinny came to her ears.

  Mary trembled with relief. September was still alive!

  'Hey!'

  Two men came running out of a hut, where they had been having some lunch. One of them was still chewing a sandwich. They were wearing blue overalls with the monogram R on the front.

  'What are you doing in here?'

  'Can't you read?'

  'Please don't shoot him!' she blurted out helplessly, pointing to the closed door. 'Please—'

  'You know the horse then?'

  Mary nodded, despairingly.

  The older of the two men came and took her firmly by the arm.

  'A young girl like you shouldn't be in here,' he said gently enough. 'It's not allowed. Come on, where do you live ?'

  'Miles away! Chestnut Farm – where you've just come from! I've cycled all the way, I've never stopped once. As soon as I realized you'd taken September away. He can't die! He's a beautiful horse, a show-jumper!'

  'No, love, he's lame now.'

  'But his leg will get better, I know it will!'

  'Get her out of here, Mike. It's for the best.'

  'No!' Mary started to struggle. 'I'm not leaving!'

  A man came out from a nearby building. He was wearing tweeds.

  'What on earth's going on here?'

  'It's this girl, Mr Rickard. She's upset because Mr Dewar's horse has got to be destroyed.'

  'Now look here, young lady,' said the boss, 'this horse is our property, it's paid for, and what we do with it is none of your business. I must also remind you that you are on private property and ask you to leave the premises at once.'

  At any other time Mary would have been frightened of such a stern forbidding man. There was a hard look about his eyes that she did not like at all. But she knew that September's life was at stake, and that she must fight for it. Up to now she had not even paused to think how she could rescue September, only that he must be saved.

  As her mind raced desperately over the possibilities she remembered something that lay in the saddlebag of her cycle. It was her Post Office Savings Book. She had regularly put away the money that Mr Dewar had been paying her for working as a groom. This morning, as usual, she had paid two pounds into her account while buying her father's postal order at the village post office.

  'Supposing I offered to buy him from you?' she said quickly.

  'What?' Mr Rickard looked at her and smiled in amusement. 'A youngster like you? You haven't got that sort of money.'

  'I've got a lot of money in my Post Office Savings!' said Mary. She had to make him take her seriously. 'And I've got my book with me! If you don't believe me, I'll go and get it.'

  'Very well.'

  Mary turned and ran back along the service road, right round the side of the big building, to the wall at the front where she had parked her bike. With trembling fingers she unfastened her saddlebag and pulled out the precious blue book
: National Savings Bank – proclaimed the cover, Ordinary Account.

  Without even pausing to do up the straps again she turned and raced back down the side of the building. Her head was down as she ran; out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed that forbidding sign Strictly No Admittance ahead of her, but she did not even see the gate. She crashed straight into it.

  She had been unaware of the gate before as the men had left it wide open when driving the van through, and had not bothered to close it. But it was closed now, a tall wire mesh gate, firmly padlocked, completely sealing off the narrow road. She had been tricked!

  'Let me through!' she cried.

  She could see the van in the yard. Its doors were open now and the men in blue overalls were leading September down the ramp, under the watchful eye of their boss. September was moving his head from side to side, restless and frightened, and the men were having difficulty with him.

  The sight of the beloved horse was too much for Mary.

  'Let me through!' she screamed. She waved the blue book. 'I have got a lot of money.' Mary had accumulated nearly forty pounds from present money since early childhood, as well as saving all her earnings for the past three months. By her standards her life savings constituted a small fortune. 'I've got sixty-four pounds!'

  'And I paid eighty for this animal!' shouted Mr Rickard. 'Now go away, child, just go away!'

  Mary clung to the wire gate, and started to sob. They were leading September across the yard now, towards the back of the big grim building.

  She did not even hear the old motor bike coming up behind her, until it braked by her side. Her father was sitting astride it, his face a thundercloud.

  'Dad!' she gasped.

  'I've been looking for you everywhere. I might have guessed you'd come here.'

  'They're going to kill September!' she cried.

  'I know, girl, I know.'

  Then John Wilkins did a strange thing. He put a hand on the horn of his motor bike and kept it there. He was usually such a quiet man, but now he was making the most deafening row that Mary had ever heard.