by Amanda Wills
‘We’re a team, remember? You might be in charge, but sometimes it would be nice if you asked us before you decided what we’re doing.’
‘You know me.’ Norah attempted a smile. ‘I can’t help myself.’
Kristy swung her bag onto her shoulder. ‘Then maybe you should try.’
Kristy sat at the back of the classroom, her chin cupped in one hand, and stared moodily out of the window. By the whiteboard their history teacher, Mr Petersen, was intoning the causes of the Second World War. Kristy let his words drift over her like wisps of cirrus cloud as she silently fumed. Once again Norah was calling all the shots. She was a human steamroller. Her way was the only way. William may make a show of standing up to his sister, but when push came to shove he always deferred to her. Sofia was too nice to argue with her. Usually Kristy let Norah have her way. Anything for a quiet life. But she’d had enough. She pictured herself stomping up to Norah at the stables and letting rip. Norah would be contrite for once in her life, telling her meekly that she could lead the team. Kristy slid down her chair and imagined the fun she’d have, bossing Norah about for a change.
Slowly she became aware of a dozen pairs of eyes swivelling in her direction. At the forefront of them was Mr Petersen, his eyes narrowed over his half-moon spectacles. Kristy wriggled surreptitiously back up the chair and picked up her fountain pen, as poised as a shorthand secretary.
‘Perhaps you’d like to share with us your thoughts on the Treaty of Versailles?’ said the history teacher with a smile that stopped at his cheekbones.
Kristy cleared her throat, tapped her pen on her chin in what she hoped was an authoritative manner, and stole a glance at the open textbook in front of her.
‘Um. Well. I suppose if Hitler hadn’t resented the restrictions forced on Germany by the rest of Europe he might not have been so keen to expand his empire and invade Austria. That could be a thing, couldn’t it?’ she finished lamely.
Mr Petersen nodded curtly. ‘Yes, that could indeed be a thing.’
Kristy gave a silent sigh of relief as the teacher pointed his ruler at a sullen-looking boy called Edward on the other side of the classroom and asked him to define reparation. She must stop daydreaming. She had dodged a bullet this time, but if she ended up with a lunchtime detention she’d never have a chance to learn their new routine before their practice. She needed to have it down to a tee. There was no way she was giving Norah another opportunity to patronise her.
At lunchtime Kristy found a quiet corner near the netball courts and pulled the laminated routine out of her rucksack. Like before, it was a complicated mass of arrows and squiggles, but at least this time she could picture each section in her mind’s eye.
She had to admit it was a triumph. Norah had played to their strengths, keeping the movements to simple circles and changes of the diagonal. She had them weaving in and out of each other like bobbins making lace. It would be mesmerising to watch. And fiendishly difficult to remember.
Kristy stared at the plan until her eyes went blurry, tracing her set of arrows with her index finger, imagining Cassius’s pricked ears and steady stride as they looped and spiralled in the school. By the time the bell went for afternoon lessons she had mastered most of the routine. She pulled herself to her feet, massaging her cramped shins, and set off for the science labs. She had to be at Mill Farm by four o’clock. She didn’t have any spare time to cram the final few moves. It would have to do.
Karen’s immaculate Land Rover was nowhere to be seen when Kristy sprinted up the Mill Farm drive. At least she’d be able to finish evening stables without her temporary boss breathing down her neck. She made a beeline for the wheelbarrow and wheeled it straight over to Jazz’s stable.
When Kristy had first started working at the livery yard she’d only been responsible for looking after Silver, Copper and Jazz. Mucking out their three stables, bringing them in, changing their rugs and feeding them had taken every second of her two hour shift.
But the longer she’d worked at Mill Farm the quicker she’d become. She’d developed all manner of time-saving strategies so she could whizz through her jobs and still have time to spend with Cassius.
Kristy made up a week’s worth of haynets on a Saturday to save time in the week. She brushed baby oil into the ponies’ tails so mud and dust didn’t stick, saving her precious minutes when she groomed them. She never carried one bucket, or led in one pony, when she could manage two.
She watched Emma like a hawk, noting how efficiently her boss worked. Emma didn’t get distracted when Marmalade, the ginger stable cat, came weaving around her legs wanting a fuss or when a brown-flecked buzzard decided to use the top of the nearest telegraph pole as a vantage point. There was no time for daydreaming if she wanted to spend twenty minutes grooming Cassius or snatch a quick half hour ride in the school before she was expected home for dinner.
As she’d become faster, Emma had given her more jobs and these days, as well as looking after the ponies, she mucked out three of the other liveries and mixed feeds for the whole yard. Handling the bigger horses like Viking, the handsome bay warmblood who shared a paddock with Emma’s horse Jigsaw, was second nature.
So she hadn’t been too fazed when she realised she was going to be responsible for all thirteen horses while Emma was in hospital. She’d sat down with a pen and paper and listed all the essential jobs, and those that could wait until she had more time. She’d taken an executive decision to deep litter all the beds. Extras like tack-cleaning and rug washing could also wait. Once they’d heard about the accident a couple of the long-standing owners had offered to muck out their own horses until Emma was back on her feet and Kristy had accepted their help gratefully. Sofia had promised she’d spend Saturday helping her catch up with all the jobs she’d had to leave during the week. Between them they would get it done.
Kristy was picking out Viking’s feet when she heard the guttural sound of a car engine. Expecting to see Karen’s Land Rover swing into the yard she dropped the hoof pick in surprise as a red sports car spun in, stopping with a tyre squeal outside the barn.
Viking skittered sideways like a flustered ballerina and Kristy ran her hand down his neck to soothe him.
‘It’s OK, kiddo. It’s just some idiot driver with no manners.’ A memory tugged at her consciousness and she glared at the man climbing out of the car. ‘The same idiot driver who covered me with mud the day Ruth came to film us. I hope he’s not planning to keep a horse here. Can you imagine?’
Still muttering under her breath, Kristy studiously ignored the interloper and continued to pick out Viking’s feet, taking twice as long as she normally did so she wouldn’t have to acknowledge him.
Unperturbed, the man strode over and in a haughty voice demanded, ‘Where is Miss Miller?’
7
Sports Car Man
Playing for time, Kristy untied Viking and led him into his stable. ‘Which one?’ she said over her shoulder.
Sports Car Man whipped off his mirrored sunglasses to reveal pale blue eyes. Kristy realised with a start he wasn’t as old as she’d first thought. Probably in his early twenties at most. His arrogant manner made him seem much older.
‘The proprietor, of course. The one who runs this place.’ He swept a derisory hand over the yard, clearly unimpressed by what he saw.
Kristy straightened her back and said coolly, ‘Miss Emma Miller is in hospital. Miss Karen Miller is looking after Mill Farm while Miss Emma Miller is -’ she fished around for the right words, ‘- temporarily incapacitated.’
‘And where is Miss Karen Miller?’ said the man, rubbing his nose.
‘I expect she’s over at her own yard. But I’m sure she’ll be back soon.’
The man made an impatient tsk noise and then sneezed violently. He whisked a monogrammed handkerchief out of his jeans pocket, muttering something about anti-histamines.
Kristy realised that if he was a prospective owner she should probably be more helpful. Emma couldn’t aff
ord to turn new business away. ‘Can I pass her a message?’ she asked grudgingly.
He gave an impatient shake of his head. ‘I’ll come back tonight.’ His pale eyes swept over the yard, lingering on Henry the Friesian, who was watching them over his stable door.
‘Is that Cassius?’
‘Cassius?’ said Kristy, unable to disguise her surprise. ‘How do you know Cassius?’
Sports Car Man nodded to himself. ‘She’s right. He is a handsome fellow.’ He turned abruptly. ‘Tell Miss Miller I’ll be back later.’
He sauntered over to his car. Kristy scuttled after him.
‘How do you know Cassius?’ she repeated, her voice as reedy as panpipes.
But Sports Car Man either didn’t hear or chose not to answer. And as Kristy watched him accelerate away a knot of anxiety tightened in her belly. What if her ruined jodhpurs had indeed been a bad omen, a portent of disaster? Emma had broken her arm, Kristy had been landed with Karen. Everyone knew these things ran in threes. What new catastrophe lay in wait for her?
Questions about Sports Car Man and his motives buzzed around Kristy’s head like a niggling cloud of mosquitoes as she finished evening stables. Who was he? Why had he come to see Emma not once but twice in the space of a few days? And, most importantly, how did he know Cassius? Kristy corrected herself. He obviously didn’t know Cassius. Anyone who knew anything about horses knew the difference between a Percheron and a Friesian. But he knew there was a black horse called Cassius at Mill Farm Stables.
The arrival of the twins and Sofia jolted her out of her thoughts and, after checking the red convertible had definitely disappeared, she hooked Cassius’s headcollar over her shoulder and set off for his paddock.
He was waiting for her, as he so often was, his chin resting on the gate and his ears pricked. His head was bent slightly to the right so he could watch her with his good eye as she skidded down the uneven track. He whickered and she kissed his nose, his whiskers tickling her cheek.
‘Hello, beautiful,’ she said softly. ‘Missed me?’
Cassius nuzzled her neck, nibbling at a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail.
‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ Kristy fastened his headcollar and led him through the gate. Cassius pulled her towards the patch of long grass on the other side of his fence. Usually she let him graze for a few minutes, but there was no time tonight.
‘Sorry, Cass, we have to go or Norah’ll be on the warpath again.’
The Percheron sighed loudly. Kristy scratched his ear. ‘I’ll let you have some when we’re finished. Promise.’
Apparently satisfied he wouldn’t miss out, Cassius followed Kristy up to the yard. The others were already in the indoor school. Kristy flicked a brush over him, picked out his feet and tacked him up in record time. She rammed her hat on and led him over to the mounting block.
‘KRISTEEE!’ Norah’s voice ricocheted off the stable walls, as loud as a tannoy.
‘Just coming!’ Kristy yelled back. She tightened Cassius’s girth, pulled down his stirrups and jumped on. The flutter of elation she always felt when she rode Cassius fizzed like static down her spine and she smiled, all thoughts of Sports Car Man forgotten.
‘Come on, kiddo. Let’s show them how it’s done.’
It was only as they clattered across the yard towards the open doors of the indoor school and Kristy tried to remember the opening moves that she realised her mind had gone completely blank. The routine she’d tried so hard to learn had evaporated, like vapour trails from a long-departed aeroplane.
8
Circles and Serpentines
She needn’t have worried. It soon became clear William hadn’t bothered to so much as look at the routine and Sofia, who’d had violin practice at lunchtime and a netball match straight after school, had only had time for one quick read-through.
Norah was – for once – keeping a lid on her impatience. Instead, Kristy noted wryly, she was in patronising mode. Norah the Slightly Superior, always keen to pass on her expert knowledge and skills to her three minions.
‘I’ll talk us through the routine, shall I? And I think we’d better walk it to start with. Seeing as it’s a bit more intricate than the last one.’
The other three nodded obediently. Norah beamed.
‘Perfect. So, if you remember, we ride up the centre line two abreast and take the salute. Me and Sofia. William and Kristy.’ The three ponies and Cassius shuffled into place and plodded up the centre line.
‘Now for our first new move. The scissors.’
‘The what?’ said William.
‘It’s a figure of eight, really,’ said Kristy, suddenly remembering the second diagram in Norah’s routine.
‘That’s right. When we reach C William and I peel off to the right and Kristy follows Sofia to the left. We thread the needle at X and then we pass each other at A, me and William on the outside and Sofia and Kristy on the inside. Then we ride up each respective side and cross the diagonal again at X. This is all at a trot. With me so far?’
Kristy and the others nodded.
Norah pointed to the door of the school. ‘William and I stay on the left rein and canter at A. Sofia and Kristy stay on the left rein and canter at C. We canter a complete circle and at F and H respectively slow to a trot where we cross on the diagonal and each change reins.’
Cassius’s ears were pricked, as if he was listening intently to Norah’s instructions. Kristy ran a hand down his neck.
‘This time we canter on the right rein. William and I start cantering at H. Sofia and Kristy start cantering at F. We both canter complete circles. In fact, it’s a circle and a half. When we reach X we come back down to a trot and change the rein before riding the outside track to A. This is where it gets a bit complicated.’
‘You mean that wasn’t?’ said William, his face puckered in concentration.
‘Sofia and I pair up again, and William and Kristy follow us up the centre line. We then turn off in opposite directions to do ten metre circles at the same time.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Sofia. But Kristy could picture them peeling off in opposite directions, Norah and Sofia at G, and her and William at D. She would need to keep Cassius collected otherwise his long strides would overtake Copper, but if they pulled it off it would look pretty impressive.
‘You will. Watch,’ said Norah, clicking her tongue. Silver grunted, gave a lazy flick of his tail and walked in a small circle. ‘Just imagine we’re mirror images of each other.’
Sofia’s face cleared. ‘I get it. Nice one.’
Norah smiled modestly. ‘That’s not all. Once we’re all back on the centre line heading for C you all follow me onto the right rein and we ride a serpentine down the school. When we’re in line with A we ride a windscreen wiper back up again.’
‘A windscreen wiper? What on earth is that?’ said William.
‘If you’d done your homework you wouldn’t need to ask,’ Norah scolded. ‘Imagine a wavy line hitting F, E, M and C. We’re riding four abreast so we have to work really hard to keep in line, extending and collecting our trots as necessary. We do one more sweep from H to B where we drop back into pairs and ride back up the centre line to take the final salute.’
‘Neat,’ said Sofia.
‘Pity there isn’t any vaulting,’ said William.
‘Kristy?’ Norah looked at her expectantly, her fingers playing with a strand of Silver’s mane.
‘Yeah, it’ll do the job,’ said Kristy, feeling a bramble-sharp prickle of shame as Norah’s face fell. Contrite, she forced a smile. ‘I’m sure Miss Raven will be impressed, anyway.’
Norah nodded, her dignity restored. ‘We’ll try it at a trot then, shall we?’
The session had gone well, Kristy reflected as she ambled home. They’d ridden the routine twice more, and although their circles were uneven and their serpentine more worm than serpent, it was a solid start.
To Kristy’s surprise, Karen had appeared halfway through
their final run-through, staying to watch them finish. Norah had flushed with pleasure when she had given a curt nod of approval as they’d filed out of the school.
Praise indeed, thought Kristy, as she’d hung from Cassius’s stable door watching him demolish his supper. He’d been a star, listening to her aids, extending and collecting his trot the second she asked. All the hours they’d spent schooling as winter faded into spring had paid off. He was balanced and responsive - a joy to ride.
Kristy’s head was so full of serpentines, circles and rein changes as she mooched along the pavement towards home she didn’t notice the red sports car pull out of a junction ahead and growl past her, heading inexorably for Mill Farm Stables.
If she had glanced up for even a second she would have seen Sports Car Man in the driving seat. He had one hand on the steering wheel and the other thrown possessively around a girl sitting in the passenger seat beside him. A girl with slash-red lips, long blonde hair as bouncy as a shampoo commercial and a giant diamond gleaming like the North Star on the third finger of her elegant left hand.
If Kristy hadn’t been daydreaming about the quadrille she might have wondered why on earth such a glamorous girl was heading for the indisputably shabby Mill Farm Stables.
The sports car’s powerful engine growled as it accelerated up the drive, flinging gravel in its wake like sea spray from a speedboat. A magpie, pecking about in the verge, took fright, it’s black and white wings a blur as it soared over Kristy’s head.
It was the bird’s angry chatter that finally snapped Kristy out of her daydream, and she looked around, wondering what had startled him.
But the sports car and its occupants had long gone.
9
Gone
Kristy woke just after midnight with a thudding heart and an inexplicable feeling of foreboding. She curled in a ball under her duvet and squeezed her eyes shut. But sleep evaded her, and as she tossed and turned the sense of unease grew.
