Her heart clenched. The line was so clear it sounded as if he was just down the road. “Yeah, well… How’s everything with you?” She’d had emails from him, telling her he’d settled in well and saying how great Ray was.
“Good. But that’s not important. How are you?”
She swallowed. She knew if he was too nice to her she’d cry. “I’m…” she hesitated. What could she say? “I’m doing OK,” she managed.
“How’s Dad been?”
“Oh, you know. Mad with Luke for digging a grave for Spirit, shouting at everyone ’cause we’re so busy. He hasn’t found another groom to replace you yet.”
“And completely ignoring the fact Spirit’s died?” Joe said, knowing his dad well.
“Yeah.” Her uncle had said very little to her about Spirit. She hadn’t expected him to. After all, he hadn’t offered her a single word of sympathy when her parents had died and so it didn’t surprise her that he didn’t try to comfort her in any way or make any exceptions to her workload on the yard. If anything he was making her work harder—now she had Joe’s ponies to ride too.
“I’m so sorry,” Joe said again. “I wish I was there.”
You could have been! It took an effort to bite the words back. It was hard not to feel angry. Since Spirit had died, anger was one of the feelings that most often swirled around inside her. Anger, bitterness, a feeling that it wasn’t fair. “I’d better go,” she said, suddenly not wanting to talk to him any more.
“Call me again soon.”
“Yep,” Ellie said briefly. She clicked the phone off.
And after that, she didn’t call him again. She just couldn’t face it. Every time she thought about him she wanted to blame him for not being there. If he rang her, she made excuses not to talk to him and she replied with just a few lines to his long emails, saying she was fine. It was what she said to anyone who asked. She felt disconnected from everyone and everything.
When she returned from school on the Monday, eight days after Spirit’s death, she found Len, Helen, Luke, and Stuart gathered around Fern’s stable door. John was inside. Just from the way they were all standing, Ellie could tell something was wrong.
“What’s going on?” She went up to Luke.
His face looked serious. “Grass sickness. It’s Fern.”
Ellie stared at him uncomprehendingly. “Grass sickness?” She knew it was a serious illness. “But she was fine this morning.”
“It often comes on suddenly. She started looking colicky after you’d gone to school. She’s got it bad. She’s started with muscle tremors now. John will have to put her to sleep.”
Ellie waited for the shock to hit her, but it didn’t. She felt immune, removed even from news as awful as that. “Oh.” She saw Luke look at her in surprise.
“Oh?”
Ellie realized that her reaction wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “That’s dreadful,” she faltered. “What made it happen? Where did she catch it from? What about the others?”
“John said it’s not contagious. It just happens in some horses. Their gut freezes—gets paralyzed—and they can’t digest any food. There are all sorts of factors that bring it on.”
“What about the foal?” The foal still didn’t have a name. Len had been too busy to name her.
“She’s up in the pony barn, upset at being separated from Fern. John’s sedating her now before he puts Fern to sleep. She’s been throwing herself at the door and trying to jump out of the stable.”
Compassion did start to flicker through Ellie at that. The chestnut filly must be so confused. Only a month ago, she’d been taken from her home and had to travel a long distance. Her mom had been the one security she had. Now she was separated from her too—this time forever. Ellie felt a rush of pain.
She swallowed. It was too much to deal with. She focused on becoming numb again. Numb was good.
John came down from the pony barn. “OK, the foal’s calm now. Let’s see to the mare.”
“Damn hell!” Len said, puffing out through his teeth. “They’re dropping like flies at the moment. She was a good mare too.” He glanced at Ellie and Luke. “No digging a flamin’ grave for this one.”
Ellie took a breath, trying to compose herself as he strode off. I hate him, she thought dully. Not letting herself think about what was happening in the stable, she walked slowly to the house, concentrating on the everyday things, getting changed, retying her hair in a ponytail. Why did so many bad things have to happen? She thought about her mom’s saying: every ending is another beginning.
It was a stupid saying. The end of something wasn’t always a beginning. There was no new beginning with Spirit’s death; it was just the same old life only far grayer because it was without him, day after day when she felt as if a part of her was missing. And there would be no new beginning for the foal. Mom had been wrong. Sometimes ends were just ends.
Going back outside, she checked the whiteboard where Len wrote down who was to be ridden, then headed up to the pony barn. She had to ride Gem that afternoon. The blue roan pony had been quiet since Spirit died. All that week, whenever he had been in the field, he had lifted his head hopefully if he heard another horse being brought to the gate. Ellie was sure he had been looking for Spirit. She stroked his face as she reached his stall. “You miss him too, don’t you, boy?”
Gem nuzzled her. She thought how confused he must feel, his friend suddenly vanishing. Generally, most horses seemed to take loss in their stride, adapting, getting on with things without fretting. But Gem was a very sensitive horse. For a moment, it crossed her mind to try talking to him, to tell him. Maybe if he knew he’d stop looking for Spirit. She hesitated, her hand on Gem’s neck. Should she?
But she would only be able to do it if she could open herself up, clear her thoughts, fill herself with love and send it to Gem.
A lump formed in her throat. She couldn’t do that now. She felt utterly drained. It was all she could do to keep herself going day after day, doing what she needed to, talking when spoken to. She couldn’t, just couldn’t, find the energy to give love too. And what would be the point? She hadn’t been able to help Spirit when he had needed her most.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the pony. “I just can’t.”
Instead she groomed him, spending time stroking him and talking to him. Taking comfort from being with him, knowing that he missed Spirit too. To her relief, her uncle was still busy, organizing Fern’s body being taken away, and so she rode on her own in the school. When she concentrated on riding, she could just about forget everything else. Not quite forget, but push things to the back of her mind at least.
She schooled Gem in circles, glad she was riding him and not feisty Milly or difficult Picasso. He was so easy and obliging, so keen to please; his only fault was his nervousness. Ellie focused on reassuring him and relaxing him. By the end of the session, he was going softly and well.
Afterwards, Ellie took him for a walk down the lane to cool him off. As she rode along the drive, she let him stop at the bank of grass where she had taken Spirit to graze in the last few weeks of his life. The afternoon sun was warm and she dismounted, putting her arm over Gem’s withers as he grazed. Looking down across the valley, she thought about all the times she had stood there with Spirit. She didn’t want to remember too vividly in case it brought too much pain so she tiptoed around the memories. Shutting her eyes, she let herself remember in flashes—the curve of Spirit’s face, the softness of his neck, the feel of his breath on her hands as he nuzzled her…
Suddenly she heard his voice as clearly as if he was standing beside her.
Look for me and I’ll be there.
Her eyes shot open but there was just empty space, trees, grass, the driveway. Disappointment crashed over her—disappointment and exasperation at her own stupidity.
Spirit’s dead, he isn’t ever coming back, accept it, she told herself angrily. But as she remounted, the first lines of a poem that was read at her parents’
funeral came back to her. It was about how when someone dies, they are not gone, not in the ground, buried and dead, but still there, around you in the air nearby.
It’s just a poem, she thought. When people—when horses—are dead, they’re gone. They don’t come back. You know they don’t.
But Spirit’s voice had sounded so real…
Despite herself, Ellie couldn’t help glancing back to the bank as she rode away.
Chapter Ten
“ELLIE?” LUKE CAME to find Ellie as she mucked out Milly’s stable. It was Saturday morning, almost two weeks since Spirit had died. “Can you help me with Gabriel again today? He’s been starting to throw his head around. Would you do your thing with him? Work out what the matter is?”
But Ellie was already shaking her head. She couldn’t help. Helping would mean talking to Gabriel and, right now, she couldn’t do that. She’d realized that with Gem the other day. “Not today,” she mumbled. “Another time.”
Luke frowned. Trying to ignore him, she continued to muck out. But it was hard—she could feel his eyes following her as she forked dirty straw into the wheelbarrow.
“Have you been to see the foal?” he said suddenly.
“No.”
“She’s not looking great.”
Ellie knew the filly was refusing to drink the replacement milk and the hard feed that Len had been trying to put her on. Ellie had overheard Stuart that morning say how the little foal wouldn’t come anywhere near him, cramming herself into a corner of the stable and then flying at him with her teeth and hooves if he came close. Helen and Sasha had both tried too, but the foal had been the same with them. Since Fern had been put to sleep—disappearing as far as the foal was concerned—she had become even more distrustful of people. Ellie knew everyone was worried about her.
“She’s dropping weight fast,” Luke went on. “She’s got to start drinking soon. There’s talk of putting a tube in and feeding her that way, but that’s going to freak her out even more. She’ll hate people after that.”
Ellie didn’t want to think about it; she turned back to her mucking out.
“Maybe you could have a try with her?”
Wishing he would just leave her alone, Ellie shut her eyes and shook her head, her heart aching.
She heard Luke turn and walk away without saying another word.
Ellie started to mechanically sweep the floor. She focused completely on the regular action, blocking out thoughts of the foal. She just couldn’t cope. Other people could deal with it, not her.
Unbidden, a dream she’d had the night before came into her mind. She’d had the same dream a few times now. She was always standing with Spirit, stroking him on a beach. Their minds were connected. Every time she dreamt it, he was urging her to talk to other horses.
Don’t waste all you have learned. You can do so much good. You can help.
I didn’t help you.
You can help others.
Not without you, Spirit.
But I am with you. Just look.
Ellie rested on the broom. It had to be the guilt she was feeling at not helping the other horses that was giving her the dream. She should be helping; she knew she should. But how could she when she felt so empty?
After the mucking out was done, Ellie fetched Gem in from the field. It was an overcast day, the gray clouds pressing down towards the ground, and the air itself heavy with dampness.
Gem stood quietly as Ellie groomed him. Even without connecting with him, she could feel his depression. It matched her own, and after she had finished brushing him over she stood for a few moments, hugging him.
“Let’s not go into the ménage today,” she said to him. “Let’s go out for a ride instead.” Her uncle was out at a show, with four of the livery horses and Stuart, Helen, and Sasha, leaving just Ellie and Luke on the yard.
Tacking Gem up, she mounted and headed towards the drive. Luke was coming out of the barn. “I thought you were supposed to be schooling him?”
“I don’t feel like it.”
Luke frowned. “Where are you taking him?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Up to the mountains.” She just wanted to get away from the yard—be on her own.
Luke folded his arms. “Is that a good idea? Why don’t I come out with you? I’m supposed to be taking Gabriel out anyway.”
Ellie shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”
“Ellie!” Luke frowned. “Let me come. Gem can still be really unreliable.”
Ellie didn’t say anything. With a click of her tongue, she walked Gem on. But Luke stepped in front of her. The pony stopped in surprise, throwing his head up.
“Get out of my way,” she said, annoyed.
“No!” Luke argued. “Stop being so stubborn. You’re going to wait five minutes while I tack up.”
Ellie’s emotions swirled. “I don’t have to do what you tell me!”
“You do. You’re not thinking straight.”
“I am!” Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m fine.”
“Really?” he snapped. “There’s a foal starving in one of the stables and you don’t seem bothered. That’s you being fine? I don’t think so, Ellie.”
Ellie couldn’t bear looking into his accusing eyes. He just didn’t get it. No one did. No one knew how much she was hurting. “Leave me alone!”
“No, I won’t!” he responded. “I’m not going to let you pretend this isn’t happening. The foal is refusing to eat. You could at least try to get her to drink. You’re amazing with horses who have problems—horses who are sick.”
“I wasn’t amazing with Spirit!” The words wrenched out of her. “I couldn’t get him to eat!”
“Ellie! This isn’t about Spirit!” Luke exclaimed. “No one could have done anything for him. Not you. Not anyone. Even if you could have got him to eat it wouldn’t have changed anything anyway. The foal’s different. If she started to feed she’d be healthy again.” He stared at her. “I can’t believe you’re just opting out like this.”
“Believe it,” Ellie muttered numbly.
Luke swore. “For heaven’s sake, Ellie! Will you stop being so wrapped up in yourself? Spirit’s dead. Deal with it!”
Anger burst through her. “Don’t you dare tell me to deal with it!” she shouted back. “You have no idea what it’s like for me!” Her eyes blazed. “I’ve lost Mom, Dad, Spirit, Joe. You haven’t got a clue. God, Luke! You say I’m wrapped up in myself? Me? You’re the selfish one! You have no idea how much you hurt people. No idea at all!” She saw the shock on his face, the start of a look of contrition.
“Ellie, I—” He reached for the reins again.
“No!” She kicked Gem hard. The startled pony leapt forward, almost knocking Luke down. Ellie pulled his head around and set off at a canter. The pony’s hooves slid and clattered on the concrete but Ellie didn’t care. She galloped him out of the yard and turned into the woods. Unnerved by her rage, Gem raced up the path. Ellie ducked as branches swept at her face but still she pushed on, not caring about exposed roots or ruts in the track, just wanting to put as much distance between her and Luke as she could. She wanted to gallop and gallop and never stop.
Gem emerged from the trees on to the mountainside. It had started to rain now and the wind was blustery on the exposed slopes, but Ellie barely felt the drops hitting her face. She kicked her heels into Gem’s sides. He stretched his head and neck out, galloping now into the rain. Ellie lost herself in the drumming of his hooves. Why did Spirit have to die? Why had he been taken away too?
Look for me and I’ll be there. His words echoed.
“But you’re not!” she sobbed furiously. “You’re not, Spirit! You’re not!”
Gem was starting to tire. She could feel his strides getting more labored as the mountain got steeper and the ground rougher under his hooves, grass giving way to scree and bare patches of mud. Ellie could barely see ahead of her now the mist had descended.
As she saw Gem’s ears start to flick unce
rtainly and felt him slow further, she wondered if she should stop. But that would mean turning around, facing everything that was waiting back at the yard. No. She pushed him on.
A sheep emerged from the mist. Gem shied violently. Ellie was thrown to one side and had to grab his neck and mane to try and stay on. She struggled to get back into the saddle, having lost her stirrups, but her struggles upset him even more and he swung around in alarm. She felt herself slipping down the side of him. “Whoa, Gem!” she gasped.
But Gem, never the quietest pony, was caught in a panic at feeling her grab his mane and saddle. He reared, sending her thumping to the ground. She saw the reins fly past her, tried to grab them, but it was too late—Gem plunged forward and raced away back down the mountainside, heading for the safety of the stables.
For a moment, Ellie lay on the hard ground, dazed and shocked. She sat up, automatically checking for injuries. Her back and arm hurt but she hadn’t broken anything. She looked around her. The rain was soaking into her thin T-shirt. Suddenly she was aware how cold and wet she was.
Collecting her thoughts, she struggled to her feet. She had no idea whereabouts on the mountain she was and she began to head down through the mist, rubbing her bare arms. Where was Gem? She hoped he would get home all right. Now her anger had faded, she began to see how stupid she’d been. She hadn’t even thought about the rough ground. Gem could have tripped, fallen, caught his foot in a rabbit hole. Tears welled up inside her as she looked through the mist. There was absolutely no one there; she was completely on her own, freezing cold, soaked, miserable—and worried about Gem.
Just get home, she thought. Get back to the stables. See he’s OK.
But after Ellie had been walking ten minutes, she wondered if she was going in the right direction. She’d thought she would be in the woods by now but she was still walking on the mountain slopes. The only sounds were the baaing of sheep through the mist and she couldn’t see more than a meter in front of her. There was no track to follow, no walls or footpaths, only her own sense of the way she had come.
Anxiety flickered through her. If she got lost, it could be really dangerous. No one would find her in the mist and her clothes gave no protection against the weather. She walked on further but still couldn’t see the woods. Her legs ached and she was shivering now. She knew she should continue walking to keep warm, but all she wanted to do was stop and cry.
Hopes Page 9
