'Poppy?' said Shelby.
'Yes, Popcorn. We called her that because when she first came to us she was all white and fluffy. What have you been calling her?'
'The man said her name was Maxshine Celtic Copper, but it turned out to be the colour that he dyed her.'
The man laughed. 'What a cheeky devil. I'll have to remember to tell my wife – she's a Maxshine blonde.'
Shelby looked at each of the photos as he flipped through them. The girls were smiling and Brat looked relaxed and content. Shelby didn't have many photos of Blue – just a few fuzzy ones that she had taken herself with an instant camera, and only one with her and Blue together. She'd put her arm around his neck and then held the camera as far away from them as she could, but she'd held it up too high, and you could only see half of their faces. It made her feel sadder than ever. She didn't have evidence of all the happy times they'd had together like the Mulligans did, and now she might never get the chance. It was as though a whole era in her life had been wiped away.
The man snapped the book shut. 'So, are you convinced that she's ours?'
Shelby squinted into the sunshine. 'I could tell as soon as you arrived.'
The man nodded. He jingled his car keys. 'If there's anything we can do – if they catch him, we can do an identity line-up.'
Shelby's mother thanked him.
Mr Mulligan told the girls to get their things. The eldest girl opened the boot of the car and pulled out a white cotton rug, a blue halter and some matching float boots. She passed them out to the other girls and they whipped around Brat, getting her ready for the journey.
As the rug settled over Brat's back, Shelby could see that the word 'Poppy' had been embroidered across the side in pastel thread. The rug fitted perfectly, as though it had been made for her.
Shelby crossed one leg over the other and watched them wistfully. They were good owners. They had the money to look after Brat properly. They had parents who were interested in ponies too. Brat would be very happy with them.
Mr Mulligan lowered the back of the float and the two younger girls coaxed Brat on board. Sarah opened the car door and leaned across the back seat, pulling out an enormous basket, wrapped in red and green cellophane and tied at the top with a plastic sprig of holly.
The three girls then lined up in front of Shelby and her mother. 'We brought you a present to say thank you very much for looking after Poppy.'
Sarah thrust the basket towards Shelby and she took it. Shelby wanted to peer in through the cellophane to see what was inside, but she thought it would be rude.
'Really, there's no need,' said Shelby's mother, embarrassed.
'No, please. I insist,' said Mr Mulligan, looking her in the eye. 'You've done a wonderful thing for our family. You know what kind of world we live in. A lot of people wouldn't have phoned.'
Shelby's mother blushed.
'If there is anything we can do – really. It would be a pleasure.'
Shelby and her mother waved to the Mulligans as they drove away. As soon as they were around the corner, Shelby turned back to the paddock. The sliprail was down. It was so empty. Shelby put her hands over her face and cried.
17 Hatching a Plot
Shelby stood examining the clothes in her wardrobe. It was just a movie, but what was she supposed to wear? She sifted through the clean clothes in her drawers and decided on a pair of jeans and a plain purple tee-shirt – the same outfit she had worn to the Pony Club Christmas Party slash Awards night.
She noticed a small orange stain where she had rubbed the tomato sauce in. It'll be dark anyway, she thought.
Out in the lounge room her father was reading the paper. Her mother was going through the Mulligans' hamper. There was a selection of homemade jams and jellies with frilly gingham tops, and two tins of chocolate-covered nuts. She pulled out a bottle of champagne and gasped.
'It's Moët!' she said.
'What?' asked Shelby.
'This is very expensive,' said her mother.
'Isn't that nice of them?' commented Shelby's father. He turned the page and then flicked the paper to make it stand upright.
Her mother reached into the basket again and drew out a muslin bag. 'A pudding, and there are some dried figs,' she said, reaching in again. 'Camembert – how lovely. And Turkish delight.'
Shelby sat down on the lounge and huffed. 'Is it all just food?'
'What do you mean just food? This is wonderful. We would never have bought these things for ourselves.'
Shelby's father put the paper aside and stood up, pulling his car keys out of his pocket. 'Are you ready then, Miss Muffet?'
She nodded and they headed out the door.
'I hope you have a great time, Shel,' her mother called after her.
In the car, her father said, 'I'm so glad that you're making friends.'
Shelby didn't reply. It had been hard to make friends ever since she'd started high school. Most of her primary school friends had gone to another school, and the ones that didn't were in different classes. She'd started hanging around with Erin because she was in a similar situation, having recently moved back to the Gully after a long time away. Shelby hadn't really cared about being a loner. She spent most of her time dreaming about ponies anyway. Now that she didn't have a horse to think about, things might be different.
The Crooks lived in an enormous brick house with a wide clipped lawn and a driveway that looped around in a circle at the front. As they pulled up, she and her father craned through the window, taking it all in. 'Jeepers, Mr Crook must earn a pretty penny,' observed her father.
When I grow up I'm going to work in an office like Mr Crook's, not like Dad's. I'm going to live in a house just like this one, Shelby thought to herself.
The front door was ajar and Shelby called into the foyer area. 'Hello?' Her voice echoed back to her in the open space. She heard a door open inside the house and skipping footsteps.
'Is that you, Shel?' came Hayley's voice. 'Come on in.'
She called me Shel.
At the end of the foyer was a door that opened out into a large rumpus room. There were wide windows down the side of the room, offering a view of the back yard, which was paved around a big swimming pool. The room was light and airy, with soft cream-coloured carpet. In the back corner was a bar and a pool table. There were lots of framed pictures on the walls of Hayley and her family. Shelby's eyes drank it all in.
A gaggle of girls draped themselves over the lounge, on the floor and over a few beanbags scattered around. There was Erin, Hayley and Lindsey, and sitting together on the lounge were another two girls from the stables who didn't go to Pony Club.
Erin thumped the floor next to her. Shelby walked over and sat beside her cross-legged.
'This is Kim and Monica,' said Hayley. 'They have the stables opposite me.'
Shelby smiled at them shyly.
'I know you,' said Kim. 'You have the little paint horse.'
Shelby blushed. 'Had,' she said.
'Did you sell him?'
'No, she swapped him for the most gorgeous show pony,' said Erin.
'Who turned out to be stolen,' added Shelby, looking down into her lap.
'No! Really?' said Erin. She slapped Shelby on the arm. 'You didn't tell me. What happened?'
'Yeah. Tell, tell,' encouraged Hayley.
Shelby looked around to see that, apart from Lindsey, who was digging around in a large bowl of lollies, all eyes were on her.
'Well,' she began. 'It all started when I answered an ad – For sale or swap . . .'
Shelby told them about the man who came and took Blue away. She explained how she'd rung the magazine and they'd made the connection about the bushranger's names. She told them about how Brat got away from Shelby after Pony Club, and the trail bike rider.
'I've always hated those bike riders,' interjected Kim. 'They are so rude. They act like they own the trails.'
'Shh! Let her finish,' said Monica.
Shelby was ashamed ab
out re-dyeing Brat, so instead she made a little deviation to the story.
'Seeing Brat all white and covered in lime from the stable got me thinking that she looked very much like one of the stolen horses that I had seen in the magazine. So I rang them, and they said that it had happened to them too.'
'Really? From that picture we looked at together?'
asked Erin. 'Jeez, you've got a good memory. I looked at that picture longer than you did and I can't remember it at all. You must have a super-duper memory to have seen that. It's a shame you don't use that memory of yours at school because you could get miles better marks. I always thought you were . . . well, not dumb, but not that much smarter than me.'
Shelby wished Erin would shut up.
'I took the magazine home with me, remember? I looked at it again just before I went to the stables,' explained Shelby. 'And besides, I had thought, after the man left, that the whole thing was suspicious, and that's why I looked at it again.'
She looked around and saw all of the girls watching her with their eyes bright and eager.
'So the man dyed her?' asked Hayley.
Shelby nodded. 'I washed her over and over again, and it turns out that she was a grey.'
'You're kidding!' squealed Erin. 'So then what happened?'
'Her real owners came and took her away this morning.'
'But what about your horse?' asked Kim.
Shelby shrugged. 'The woman from the magazine said the bushranger man placed another ad, but it wasn't Blue.'
'Have you called the police?' asked Hayley.
Shelby shook her head. 'What are they going to do? They reckon I entered into a contract. They say it's a civil matter.'
'Then we'll have to do it ourselves. We have to set a trap for the bushranger,' Erin said.
'You think?' asked Shelby.
'Yeah!' the girls chorused.
Erin shimmied forward. 'Here's what we're going to do . . .'
18 Christmas
It was Christmas morning and, as Shelby was sleeping on the lounge, it was no surprise that she woke up to the sound of two small boys whooping and giggling under the Christmas tree.
'What time is it?' she croaked.
'Christmas time!' cried Connor, making Blake throw his head back in laughter.
Shelby squinted at the window. It was still dark outside, so it must have been very early. 'Just watch cartoons quietly, OK?'
It was going to be another hot day. It was warm already, the house not having cooled down much from the day before. Shelby pulled the sheet up to her chin, enjoying the last few minutes of rest. She heard the television switch on and an enthusiastic ho, ho, ho coming from its speakers. She wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep, so instead she lay still with her eyes closed and thought about the night before.
The girls had watched a couple of movies – Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, followed by Pocahontas – or at least the movies played in the background while they talked, laughed, ate bags and bags of popcorn, and drank way too much fizzy drink. In short, Shelby had a fabulous time.
The girls had told Shelby about the lesson with Calvin Protheroe and how disappointed they were. Apparently, after Shelby left he'd been so severe on one of the other girls that he'd made her cry.
'Mrs Hockings thought he was so fantastic, but my mum says that he's just an old has-been who gets his kicks from telling young girls what to do,' said Hayley.
At the end of the night when their parents came to collect them, the girls had all agreed to meet up again at the horse show the weekend after next. It didn't seem to matter to them that Shelby didn't have a horse. Hayley had said Shelby could go along with her family – in fact, she had asked Shelby if she would like to help out with Echo and Ditto.
'It takes me forever to plait up. Do you want to stay over? We'll have to get up pretty early.'
Even now, as the first few rays of morning sun stretched through the window and into Shelby's eyes, making her blink, she still couldn't believe that in a week she'd be sleeping over at Hayley's place and going with the Crooks to the horse show. She pulled the sheet over her head and let out a sigh. She hoped that everybody's disappointment with Calvin Protheroe meant nobody would listen to what he had to say where Shelby was concerned.
He was wrong about her. Brat was lame because the fencing was inadequate. If Shelby had a float then Brat wouldn't have got loose on the trail. She wasn't irresponsible. She was every bit as caring and conscientious as the other girls. She probably spent more time with Blue than Hayley had with any of her horses. It was just that Hayley had more gear and more money.
It seemed to Shelby that Mr Protheroe, Mrs Hockings and all the other adults at Pony Club believed that the more your parents spent, the better horse person you were – both on the ground and in the saddle. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't true.
Shelby stretched her leg down towards the end of the lounge with her toe and felt something heavy there – her Christmas stocking. She threw back the sheet and sat up. From his place on the floor, too close to the television, Blake looked up at her, grinning. She had to smile because his face was smeared with chocolate.
Her parents had a rule about Christmas morning. The children were allowed to open their Christmas stocking, and they could feel the presents under the tree, but they weren't allowed to unwrap them. Shelby knew the Christmas stocking rule was designed to give her parents at least another half an hour of sleep.
She drew the stocking towards her and dug her hand inside. There was a packet of colouring pencils, some hair ties, a small stuffed toy horse and lots of sweets. Blake crawled forward and raked his hands through her bounty, seeing if there was anything worthy of trade.
'I'll give you my Fruit Tingles for your Fantales,' he suggested.
It wasn't a fair exchange. Last year she would have said no, but this year she didn't care so much about what was in the stocking. She knew that there would be plenty to eat that day and the next, and that a few chocolates weren't going to make much difference.
'OK,' she said. Blake's hand shot out, making the swap and stowing the Fantales out of reach before Shelby could change her mind. Connor, seeing that she had gone soft, quickly joined in.
'My jubes for your Maltesers,' he said.
Shelby shrugged. 'OK.'
'Unreal!' Connor said, grabbing the chocolates and retreating back onto the floor.
The trading continued peacefully between the three until Shelby had no chocolate left at all. Then Connor started on Blake. When Blake wouldn't trade, Connor made a grab for his stocking and Blake started to cry. Shelby tried to distract them.
'I think it might be time to wake up Mum and Dad.'
'Yay!' said Connor, jumping to his feet.
Shelby's family had another ritual on Christmas morning. The three children crowded round the kitchen cupboard and Shelby handed out a saucepan and a wooden spoon to each of the boys.
'Ready?' she asked.
The boys nodded.
'Let's go!' She lifted her own saucepan and hit the bottom with the wooden spoon. 'Wake up everybody, it's Christmas time!' she shouted. The two boys needed little encouragement to join in, and their pots and spoons soon rang out like cymbals. They started first in their parents' bedroom. Blake jumped up and down on the end of their bed with his saucepan over his head.
'All right, we're getting up, you can go and wake your Aunt Jenny now,' said their father.
The three children looked at each other and Connor screwed his nose up. Aunt Jenny was what her father described as 'a funny old stick', and what the children called plain old scary. They'd never gone into the room to wake Aunt Jenny before. Instead they usually banged their saucepans near her closed door and then ran back into the lounge room to wait for her to trudge out in her long nightie.
This year Shelby thought she might try it. She waved at the boys to follow her as she marched up the hall. The boys scampered behind her, holding their pots and wooden spoons ready.
Shelby
opened the door to her bedroom just a crack and peeked inside. There was a lump in her bed, and one wrinkly foot poking out from under the sheet at the end. As she watched, the lump moved.
Aunt Jenny was probably awake already. Shelby turned to the boys and nodded, but they looked at her, uncertain. Shelby flung open the door and it hit the wall. 'Time to get up, Aunt Jenny!' she yelled, jumping into the room with a flourish. The boys banged their pots together and hopped up and down, but they stayed in the hall.
'Waah?' the old woman said, slurring with sleep and frowning over the top of her sheet. She had some kind of bag covering the rollers in her hair. Shelby wondered if she'd made a mistake bursting in like this, but she continued anyway.
She bounced over to the bed and gave Aunt Jenny a noisy kiss on the cheek. The old woman shrank away from her, and made a confused 'oooh' sound.
'Merry Christmas!' Shelby said, beaming.
Aunt Jenny's eyes were watery and unfocused. Her face looked different – squashed. Her mouth was sunken in and her jaw jutted out. Shelby realised that she didn't have her false teeth in. She wanted to stare because she'd never seen anyone without their teeth before, but she thought it was rude, so she looked the other way.
'Time to open presents, Aunt Jenny. Don't be late!' Shelby kept on smiling and then she leapt up and bounded back out the door, grabbing the boys' arms to whisk them back to the living room. She was worried that one of the boys would ask what was wrong with Aunt Jenny's face, and Shelby didn't want her to be embarrassed.
Phew. She was glad that was over.
A little while later the three adults came into the room – her mother and father sat on the lounge, while Aunt Jenny perched on one of the dining chairs near the door to the kitchen. She had taken the bag off her head, and removed her rollers, but her grey hair was still in tight tufty curls. Shelby was pleased to see that her face had returned to its usual proportions.
The two boys ripped into their presents with gusto. Instead of watching them, as she usually did, Shelby watched her aunt.
For Sale Or Swap Page 9
