by Anne Digby
For the first few days she poulticed his leg every three hours, as the books told her to, and forced him to lie down on the straw in the stuffy shed for as long as possible each day.
'I know you hate it in here,' she would say, stroking his mane to calm down his restless spirit, 'and that you'd much rather be out in the sunshine. But there's too much to distract you out there and I know you won't lie down once you're outside.'
September, who now felt quite well in himself and was no longer feeling any pain from the leg, did not really understand. But Mary knew how important these first two weeks were. September must not take any more weight on the leg than was absolutely necessary until all traces of swelling had gone; on that fact depended his chances of complete recovery.
He did not understand, but he could not bear Mary to be displeased, so after the first few tussles he gave in to her with good grace. One day when she came into the shed unexpectedly she caught him standing up in the home-made loose box that her father had built, trying to nibble some plants hanging on the wall of the shed.
Guiltily he sank down on to his knees on his bed of straw, hiding his face from her and pretending that he had been in that position all the time.
'You naughty boy!' Mary could not help laughing. 'But at least I can tell you've got the message at last.'
Thanks to her caution, the swelling had completely disappeared in ten days, and she could begin to give him gentle exercise, walking him slowly round the garden and letting him stay out to graze.
It was another three weeks before the supporting bandages could come off, and only then could Mary and her father breathe freely.
'Now nobody will guess who you are,' she said, giving him a triumphant hug. 'Not even Anna herself.'
Anna! The very name made Mary ache a little. How was she getting on with King of Prussia? Was he still the most wonderful horse in the world to her? Mary's curiosity was growing all the time as the day of the Western Counties' Championship drew nearer, but she was determined to control it. Besides, she still had a lot to do. Now September was entering the most important period of his convalescence.
The bandage was off and he was walking well, and all sign of damage to the leg had gone. But he was walking with a limp, as though there were a weakness there. Was it going to be a permanent weakness, or could it be cured?
'There's only one hope of getting you perfect again, September,' she told him. 'And we're going to start today. Come on, we're going for a swim in the sea.'
There was an ideal place. Not the big cove where she and Anna had gone to so often in the old days to gallop him across the sands. That would be too dangerous for it meant going right through the farm with September, and besides, Anna often exercised King of Prussia on the wide expanse of beach. They must not meet up, whatever happened!
Instead she took him by way of a narrow track that was hardly ever used. It encircled the farm to the north and was buried between high hedgerows for most of the way, almost like a secret tunnel. It led directly to a cleft in the low-lying cliffs, round the headland from where the wide beaches were, to a steep path that led straight down into a deep rock pool. In the old days she and Anna had sometimes swum there together and called it their secret oasis, for nobody ever went there.
The first day Mary led September gently down the steep path and then, taking off her shoes and socks so that she wore only shorts and shirt, plunged into the water first.
'Come on, boy, in you come,' she cajoled. 'It's beautiful!'
After some hesitation, the horse plunged in beside her and was soon swimming strongly in the big pool and enjoying every moment of it.
Mary knew from the books that this was the best possible therapy for the weak leg, exercising it and bringing strength back to the muscles, without imposing any weight or strain upon them. They made the secret expedition every day, and each day she let September swim a little longer than the day before.
It was, of course, expensive on dye. The harsh salt water played havoc with September's black coat, and there was always plenty of touching up to do as soon as they got back to Primrose Cottage. Mary's father grumbled at the expense but he was as thrilled as she was to see that the treatment was working and the leg improving, day by day.
Just one week before the Western Counties' Championship was due to take place the cure was complete. September's limp had finally disappeared, all trace of it, and he was once again perfect in every way.
'It's a miracle, girl,' said her father. 'He's a fine horse again, still a great show-jumper I daresay. We'll find him a good home now – we'll pick and choose and find just the right buyer for him.'
'Yes, Dad.' Mary could not bear to think of them selling September. She would not think of it – not yet! 'If it's all right with you, I'm going to take him for a swim. One last swim. We enjoy them so much.'
The sun was hot that morning and they stayed in the water longer than ever before. September was better, completely fit again! That thought filled Mary with happiness, but it was a bitter-sweet happiness. Must it come to an end?
As she let the gentle waves lap round them, one arm round September's neck, Mary let herself day-dream again. Not for the first time she was indulging in a secret fantasy that refused to go away.
When they finally came out of the water, September's coat looked much worse than usual. In some places the black was now just a shabby grey and in other places his russet coat actually showed through, making him look like a scruffy piebald.
They cantered back along the narrow track, brushing the hedgerow in places. Mary could feel the hot sun drying her shorts and shirt to her skin. For a moment she fancied that the sound of September's hooves was echoing along the lane and then, as they turned a sharp bend, she knew that it was not an echo, but the hoofbeats of another horse.
Anna was coming this way, mounted upon King of Prussia, and in a moment they would be face to face.
THIRTEEN
THE PLAN
Mary reined in September and brought him to a standstill as Anna came up on King of Prussia. They were trapped together in the narrow lane. Anna brought her horse to a halt just a few feet away from them and silently the two girls faced each other.
King of Prussia was beautifully groomed and looking very elegant, the same haughty expression on his face that Mary had noticed before. He seemed to be surveying September with supercilious distaste.
It was not the horse's expression that caught Mary's attention though, it was Anna's. For a few brief, unguarded moments Anna did not think to compose herself and Mary saw clearly a lost, sad look in her eyes.
So although she should have felt shock and alarm at meeting Anna like this, and fear that she would recognize September, quite a different emotion rushed through Mary.
Anna was unhappy! It was unmistakable.
What was she doing on this lonely, hidden track? It led nowhere but to the secret cleft in the cliffs and the path and the deep rock pool. It was their place, Mary's and Anna's, their 'secret oasis' where they used to come and swim in summers past, summers happier than this one.
Had Anna come down here to remember happier times? Was she missing Mary's friendship after all, feeling as lonely as Mary was herself?
Then suddenly, Anna read Mary's thoughts and went pink with embarrassment. Now Mary was positive that she had guessed correctly. She longed to cry out: 'Oh, Anna, isn't this silly! Can't we be friends again – can't we?' Instead she stared down at the ground.
When she looked up again Anna's face was cold and expressionless. She was furious at having been caught out heading for the place that was a symbol of her lost friendship with Mary – furious that Mary should have seen her blush.
'So it's true,' she drawled, 'you have got a horse this summer? Looking after it for your uncle or something, aren't you?'
'That's right,' mumbled Mary, at the same time moving forward close against the hedgerow, trying to get past Anna. September was in such a mess after his swim in the sea, some of the black d
ye had come clean off his coat and the russet showed through. She mustn't let Anna recognize him, she mustn't! 'Been for a swim. Got to get back now and cook Dad's lunch, I'm late ...'
Typically Anna made no move but sat there squarely on King of Prussia, almost completely blocking the track and forcing September right into the bank.
In a panic to get past quickly, Mary spurred September on to a trot and the horse slithered on the grassy bank and almost tripped over a trailing root before they were safely past. Mary and the horse quickly recovered their balance but not before they had both looked undignified and clumsy – and Anna's laughter was ringing out, laughter that was brittle and false.
'What a nag!' she sneered. 'What a rag bag! I know you don't like King and I'm not in the least bit offended that you never show any interest in how we're getting on, but to think you've been spending all your time with that broken-down animal. Really!'
As Mary galloped on along the track, Anna's mocking words rang in her brain and made the blood pound in her temples. Suddenly she was angry, angrier than she had ever been in her life.
'So that's what she thinks, is it?' she said between clenched teeth. 'Did you hear what she said about you, September? Did you?'
When she got near the farm, she took September off the track, up the bank and through a gap in the hedge, and out into an open field. At the far end of the field was a five-barred gate.
'Come on, boy! Let's go!'
They started at a canter and then gradually built up speed, flying across the wide expanse of meadow, September's hooves hardly seeming to touch the green turf beneath. It was the most wonderful experience to be doing this with September again! Mary's dark hair was streaming out behind her in the breeze and her whole body throbbed with exhilaration as she felt the horse, so sure and confident with every stride, between her knees. They were heading straight for the gate!
'Over!'
He soared over with skill and grace and together they made a perfect landing. In that moment Mary's last doubts were removed. September was fitter than he had ever been, still the great show-jumper. She realized something else. The horse she loved so much could jump for her better than for anyone else in the world!
She slowed him down to a walk, his chest heaving, letting him recover from his exertion. Mary, too, was breathing very fast, but not because of the exertion. The thing she had day-dreamed about for weeks, but never dared to think of putting into practice, was now taking on an air of reality.
'If we could do it,' she whispered to September, 'it could change everything.'
But first there was one thing she had to know for certain. She had heard rumours around the farm, but now she must try and see with her own eyes whether they were true or not.
For six long weeks, ever since King of Prussia had arrived at the farm, she had deliberately kept away from the water meadow, refusing to see how he and Anna performed together, but she could keep away no longer.
The time had come when she must see September's rival in action. Suddenly it was a matter of extreme urgency!
In fact, Mary had to contain her impatience until the middle of the following afternoon.
After lunch she saw several cars arriving at the old thatched farmhouse and she sensed at once that something important was going to happen. It seemed that Mr Dewar had invited several friends over to see Anna and the horse in action, for the Western Counties' Championship was now only six days away.
When they all went out to the water meadow shortly after three o'clock, there was an unseen onlooker. Mary had taken up residence in a clump of thick bushes on the far side of the meadow. It was a perfect vantage point. She could see everything that went on without being seen herself.
Whatever happened she was not going to give Anna the satisfaction of thinking she was 'taking an interest' at last.
There was an air of expectancy as Anna mounted King of Prussia and cantered him round the meadow to loosen up. Mary had to admit to herself that they made a most distinguished sight. Anna was wearing new jodhpurs and riding boots and a beautiful tailored white shirt with a crisply starched collar. Her long fair hair had been well brushed and was matched in its shining perfection only by the horse's gleaming dark brown coat. For the first time, viewing him from this distance, Mary could see how beautifully proportioned the horse was, everything about him was neat and compact from the top of his glorious mane to the tip of his freshly docked tail.
'All right, Anna,' called out Mr Dewar. 'Start when I ring the bell –and remember you're riding against the clock.'
He was holding a large stop-watch in his hand; he made an adjustment to it and then he shook a small hand-bell that he had taken from his pocket. It rang out clearly across the meadow and Anna started to ride towards the first jump, a fiercely determined expression on her face.
Mary watched closely as they took jump after jump. King of Prussia took each jump neatly enough, but Mary found herself holding her breath each time, not sure whether the small animal would make it or not. It seemed that Anna was having to work very hard to get him over safely each time and when they got to the 'Demon's Dyke', Mary could hardly bear to look.
Yet King of Prussia cleared this jump safely, too, seeming to defy all the laws of gravity as his body wreathed itself over the top and his rear hooves kicked up free of the high brushwood wall at the last possible moment.
'He's efficient, all right,' reflected Mary, 'like a little robot. He's been schooled and schooled ... but he's not a patch on September, who's just naturally brilliant and faster, I'm sure, much faster .. .'
It was over the matter of King of Prussia's speed, or lack of it, that Mary had heard rumours recently. It seemed that Mr Dewar had been getting angry at the slow times he had been doing round the course and, the angrier he got, the slower the little horse seemed to go. In the next few moments Mary saw those stories confirmed at first hand.
There was a dutiful burst of applause as Anna finished the course and Mr Donaldson, one of the group of family friends, called out:
'A clear round, Anna. Well done!'
But Mr Dewar was striding over to his daughter, the stop-watch in his hand, and his face like thunder. A slight shiver ran through Mary for she had seen that expression so often before, when September had behaved erratically, earlier in the summer.
'He's slower than ever today, Anna! This isn't going to win us the Western Counties', y'know!'
'He jumped beautifully!' said Anna defensively. She dismounted from the horse and stroked his neck protectively, as though daring her father to say another word against him. 'No one's ever complained that he's slow before. Just look at all the trophies he's won! '
'Local events, most of them,' snapped Mr Dewar. 'This is a national event at Imchester next week – you'll be up against some of the best riders in the country.'
'Well, you must admit he's better than September,' said Anna, anxious to deflect her father's annoyance.
'Of course he is. He's reliable. It's just his speed, we've got to get it up, my girl.'
For a few moments Mary had felt some sympathy for Anna, but now her anger was reawakened. She could not wait to get away from the meadow, unseen, and return to the cottage. She had a lot to tell September!
'They think you were unreliable, my love,' she said. 'How can they talk about you like that when as far as they're concerned you – you're dead.' She closed her eyes for a moment, reliving all the terrible emotions of that day six weeks ago. Then she opened them again, put a hand on September's neck and took a breath: she had some absolutely momentous news to break to him!
'We're going to bring Anna back to her senses, you and I. She needs a shock, and that's just what we're going to give her.'
Pictures flashed through Mary's mind: Anna on the track yesterday, laughing in that brittle way, calling September a 'rag-bag'. Anna speaking petulantly to her father, referring to Mary as one might to a servant: 'It's not fair, Daddy! None of the other girls at school have to muck out stables and thing
s like that.'
Then another memory came of the day on the beach when Anna had fastened her St Christopher chain round Mary's neck: 'I won't be any different, just because I'm going away to school. I promise. You'll always be my best friend, Mary, nothing will ever change that.'
The time had come to break the spell that held Anna in its thrall, to show her that the things she had come to despise were not to be despised at all.
'We're going to win the Western Counties' Championship, September,' said Mary, in a calm voice. 'You and I together.'
FOURTEEN
TO IMCHESTER
Once Mary had made up her mind, she was surprised at how simple everything seemed. Each step in her plan followed logically. Each, obstacle that had to be overcome she dealt with in a matter-of-fact way. She was absolutely single-minded in her determination to take September to Imchester.
Leaving the horse grazing on the piece of rough ground beyond her father's fruit bushes, she cycled the four miles to the red telephone kiosk outside the village post office and, with plenty of change in her pocket, shut herself in the private little world that it afforded. She thumbed through the bright yellow directory until she found the number she wanted.
'I want to enter the Western Counties' Championship please,' she said to the official at the Imchester Course who answered the 'phone. She was speaking in her most grown-up voice. 'Do you still have entry forms?'
'Name and address, please.'
Mary gave them and then asked:
'Can you tell me what the entrance fee is, please?'
'Ten pounds, madam. Send it back with the entry form: I'll see you get one in the morning. Cutting it a bit fine, aren't you? Entries close on Thursday.'
'Thursday?' said Mary, startled. Then, in a firm voice: 'You'll have my form by then, definitely.'
'Could you tell me the name of the horse? I'll make a note of it.'
Mary had thought this out in advance. She could not possibly enter September under his real name! Anna and her family must have no advance warning of what she was doing. Even during the championship itself they need have no inkling that the horse she was riding was September, whom, of course, they believed to be dead some six weeks. She would break the news to Anna afterwards: after they had excelled themselves, done better in the championship than Anna on King of Prussia, after – if Mary had her way – they had won it!
