Blind Beauty

by K. M. Peyton

  At last they heard the lorry coming up the lane. Everyone piled out of the tack-room and Jimmy and Peter went to let down the ramp. Tessa ran up to untie Buffoon. He was standing head up, ears alert, sniffing the air, all his senses trying to divine where he was, what was happening. At the sound of Tessa’s voice he turned his head and nosed towards her. His helplessness gutted her.

  She led him out carefully, with Jimmy guiding his front feet over the gap and drop at the top of the ramp. After that he knew the drill and clattered down, letting out a shrill whinny. Lucky answered him and Buffoon, recognizing the pony’s voice, whinnied again, clearly excited. He whirled round on the end of the halter and dragged Tessa across the yard to the door of his old box. Jimmy shot back the bolt and Buffoon ran in, circling the box through the deep straw, reaching out to nuzzle Lucky and making deep whickering noises in the back of his throat. Tessa was not the only one with tears in her eyes. Everyone was touched to see the blind horse, thin as a rake, so pleased to be back at home with his old mate Lucky.

  “God, the state of him!” Gilly choked. “Who could let that happen to such a great horse?”

  “Any horse, come to that,” Sarah said shortly. She, the tough one, blew her nose. “Thank God Tom found him.”

  “All alone, not a living thing to be seen for miles,” Tom said.

  Tessa was fetching his feed, tipping it into his manger. Buffoon plunged his nose in hungrily. The watching group took in Tessa’s rapt face, silently considering the consequences of the day’s events. It wasn’t going to be easy, they guessed. Peter wasn’t in the game for charity, and keeping Buffoon was going to be a charity. Tessa was unpredictable.

  “Is he yours now?” Wisbey asked her bluntly.

  “Yes, he’s mine. Tom got his papers from the owners.”

  “Your wages don’t cover what it costs to keep a horse in this yard,” Wisbey said.

  “He’s not in training, idiot,” Sarah said roughly. “Only keep, for the time being.”

  “All the same–”

  “Oh, shut up, Wisbey!” Gilly said.

  “There’ll be plenty of time to work it out,” Peter said equably. “He’s not going anywhere else.”

  “Only the knacker’s,” Wisbey muttered, but no one heard him. (Tessa had got her horse back. He never got his back.)

  Now Buffoon was settled, everyone gradually drifted away. Tessa stayed leaning over the top-door, watching Buffoon feed. Tom came over and said, “Happy?”

  “Oh Tom, yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I still can’t believe it!”

  She turned her face towards him and in the dusk he saw the wild gleam in her eyes, her face suddenly beautiful with her happiness. She wasn’t one for being happy very often. What a weird girl she was! Frightening, over the top, with a heart too big for her body. He could do with her on his side, he thought, in the days to come. Anyone could do with her on their side. Lucky old Buffoon.

  “It was luck, seeing him. My back route to Newmarket, hardly anyone uses that road. And that I actually saw him… the hand of God, you might say. Weird.” He shrugged, smiled. “I’ll be off now.”

  “Yes. OK. See you later.”

  And she turned round suddenly and gave him a hug and a kiss.

  “I love you, Tom! Thank you for ever!”

  He laughed. He went over to his car and thought, She has no idea what love is, save for a horse. She’s had no practice with humans.

  The December night drew in, cold and wet, the rain gusting round the corners of the yard. Tessa thought of Buffoon out in that lonely field all by himself in the winter cold, and wept for his past miseries, his present salvation. She sat in the straw and talked to him as she had in days gone by when he was tough and strong and bulging with muscle. Now a warm rug covered his bony frame and his eyes were blind, hiding his spirit, but they were together again, the three of them. The two animals stood with their noses together, each resting one hind leg. Tessa slumped in the thick straw in one corner, content just to watch, and to talk to Buffoon. She felt ecstatically happy. It was Sarah who came to winkle her out, her torch stabbing across the yard.

  “Come on, Tess, he’s not going to run away! Have you eaten?”

  “No.”

  “I’ve made a corned beef hash. Come and share it.”

  Tessa got up and went back to Sarah’s caravan.

  “Happy day!” Sarah said. “Look, a celebration!” She opened a bottle of Guinness and poured it into two glasses.

  “Here’s to the old horse. To Buffoon, your beauty!”

  “And Tom for finding him.”

  “And Tom for finding him.”

  Tessa hadn’t realized how hungry she was. Sarah made a good hash and it was good now, not to be alone. Her hopes and fears tumbled out of her, for Buffoon’s future, but Sarah would not comment on it, and in her excitement Tessa did not notice her reticence. She was laughing and talking too hard, unbuttoned by the Guinness.

  “Now, perhaps,” Sarah said, “you will put your mind to being a jockey again. Now you’ve got a horse to keep. Peter will want paying.”

  “Yes, I will!”

  “If you hadn’t got the talent you wouldn’t get much encouragement here. But they all say, Jimmy especially, that you could make a go of it. If Jimmy says so…” Sarah shrugged and laughed. “And I think so too. You don’t see it often.”

  “Tom said it too.”

  “Well, there you are. Tom should know. Poor devil, he’s going for his operation next week.”

  “He’s scared.”

  “So would I be. The job means everything to him. From what I gather, he’s been advised to stay content with how things are. He’s improving, but very slowly, and not much chance of getting back into the game. The op is very risky, could make things a lot worse. But if it succeeds, he’ll be riding again within the year. That’s the story. He’ll be a brave man to go through with it.”

  Tessa remembered that it was Tom, visiting her, that brought her back to life again during her imprisonment. He had done so much for her! She owed it to him to help him if she could. But he had so many friends in high places… he was scarcely going to need a neurotic visit from her.

  She went back to bed, exhausted with the emotions that had shaken her day. The images went round and round her head. Would she ever forget that first glimpse of Buffoon across the field, trying to work out what was happening from the sounds caught by his long rabbity ears? The eyes unseeing, that were once so bold and bright … Tessa had come through bad times herself and vowed now that she would get Buffoon through this. Cataracts could be removed.

  “It’ll cost a fortune! Who’s going to pay?”

  Everyone said it, from Peter down.

  “And not always successful, and you still have to pay the money.”

  “And afterwards, anyway, what good will he be?” Wisbey said what the others were too kind to say.

  Tessa knew she could never save up enough money from her wages, not now that quite a chunk was docked for Buffoon’s keep. Only getting rides might help, but how long would that take? Who would lend her money on the slender proposition that it would be paid back from her riding fees? The only person she could think of was her mother.

  “I’m going to ask my mother,” she said to Sarah.

  “Don’t go up there!”

  “No. I’ll ring her. Or go when he’s away.”

  “If he finds out…” Sarah was worried.

  “He’d kill her probably. But why should he find out? She has an allowance – she must have, to buy all those vile clothes.”

  “Do be careful, Tessa. You might get her into bad trouble.”

  But Tessa had only one thought in her head. Every day she groomed and fed Buffoon, and turned him out in the field with Lucky where he grazed happily, following the pony devotedly. When she went to fetch him in he came a
t her call, his big ears pricked with pleasure. If his eyes could have shown anything, they would have shown his new interest in life. His coat started to shine again, and the ribs began to cover with flesh. Every day he looked more his old self, although, without the riding, he had no muscle. And – “Let’s face it, Tessa, you might call him your beauty, but nobody else could call him even half handsome,” as they all said. All legs and withers.

  “But you showed them, didn’t you?” she said to him. “You’re the best.”

  Her dream was to have him back in racing, but she had no money for training fees and everyone told her he would never come back, even if the operation worked. “He’ll be too old by then.” But her dream did not go away. Tessa knew how to live on dreams.

  Peter said she could ride Summer Sky at Uttoxeter, and Raleigh asked her to ride again at Market Rasen. They were being kindly, she knew. From the way she rode for them depended whether she might get a ride from someone else. She had made a name for herself in racing all right, but for stabbing an unpopular owner, not for her riding. Not yet, she told herself. She thought of Tom’s determination. She owed everything to Tom.

  She got his parents’ telephone number from Raleigh and rang to enquire after him. It was in the racing press that he had had his operation two days ago, but no comment as to the outcome. Someone she supposed was his mother answered the phone. Tessa felt very nervous. His mother might think she was one of Tom’s silly fans – he had quite a number.

  “How is Tom?” she asked abruptly.

  “Who are you, dear?”

  “Tessa Blackthorn, a friend.” She hadn’t the nerve to say a fellow jockey.

  There was a pause, and a rustling of papers. Then the cool, gentle voice said, “He’s come out of the operation well. But no one quite knows what the outcome will be yet.”

  “I would like to visit him.”

  “Well, he’s not having any visitors just yet. What did you say your name was?”

  “Tessa Blackthorn.”

  “He left me a list of people he would like to have visit him, when he’s ready. He said only people on the list. I see you are on it, almost at the top. So I’ll let you know, dear, when you can go.”

  Tessa was amazed. Near the top of the list of Tom’s friends! He must have been delirious when he wrote it!

  She remembered to give Peter’s phone number and gabbled, “Give him my love.” She had never thought to send anybody her love before. She rang off, feeling deeply moved. Near the top of Tom’s list! She couldn’t get over it. She didn’t tell anyone, not even Sarah. But she told Peter to expect a call from Tom’s mother sometime.

  Meanwhile, in spite of strong advice to the contrary, she went up to Goldlands to visit her mother. Gossip had it that Maurice was in America.

  “What if he walks in?” Sarah asked. “You take the stupidest risks.”

  “He won’t.”

  She walked up there one evening, and went in quietly the back way. Maurice’s car wasn’t there, so she felt safe. Her mother was watching the television as usual, and was overjoyed to see her.

  “Oh, I miss you so, Tessa! And all the time I know you’re only down the road, so close!”

  “You don’t think Maurice would have me back, surely?”

  “No. He’d kill you as soon as look at you. He never forgives, you know that. How are you? Is everything all right?”

  She guessed Tessa hadn’t come to make small talk.

  Tessa told her about Buffoon, and his need for the operation.

  “But it costs money I haven’t got. I need to borrow it off you, Mum. I know he gives you a whacking allowance. And I’ll pay it back faithfully, every time I get a ride.”

  “Oh Tessa!” wailed her mother, in her usual hopeless way.

  “You can, surely?”

  “Without him knowing? You know what he’s like about money. Nothing escapes him.”

  “But you can buy what you like, can’t you? Say you’re having golf lessons or something. Or – or driving lessons. Whatever. Buying a wedding outfit –”

  “He’ll want to see it.”

  “Show him one you’ve already got. He won’t recognize it. You’ve got thousands of outfits!”

  Myra’s lip trembled. “I’d do anything for you, Tessa. You know I would. But –”

  “You’re frightened of him, aren’t you? I always knew you were. How can you stay here –”

  “Oh, don’t start that again –”

  Tessa bit her lip. No, it got them nowhere. Start again. Her best wheedling voice.

  “He doesn’t watch every penny, surely? Not when he’s got so much?”

  “No. Sometimes he doesn’t bother at all. And then sometimes, over something quite petty, he goes berserk. I suppose there is a way of covering up that I’m giving some to you. But giving it to you – of all things – that would send him really up the wall.”

  They strove to think up a plan. Her mother was willing as long as she wasn’t found out.

  “Perhaps I could do it with clothes. A really nice dress from a top house in London would come to almost the same. And I’ve got one from Dior that he might not recognize, if he asks. I’ve only worn it once.”

  That much for a dress! Tessa thought of Sarah hearing the news and had to stop herself laughing.

  “Could you? Really?”

  “Well, I’ll do it for you. I wouldn’t do it for anyone else. For Declan’s horse!”

  “Oh Mum, if he comes right again – he’s mine now! They say he won’t ever race again, but why not?”

  “Because you won’t have the money to keep him in training!”

  “I will, if I get the rides.”

  “You’ve got to be good! And it’s so dangerous, Tessa; it’s not a job for a girl. Oh, why do you get such crazy ideas? You’re just like your father.”

  “Good. I’d rather be like him than Maurice.”

  Her mother laughed. Her eyes sparkled. Tessa got the impression that she was quite excited to have something to do, even something so risky, to interrupt her excruciating boredom.

  “Look, you can take a couple of hundred now, out of the housekeeping. It’s cheap here when he’s away. All that drink! And he won’t be back for a week.”

  “Why don’t you come down and see us? Ride out one day?”

  “Oh, you know I can’t.”

  Tessa shrugged. But when her mother gave her the two hundred pounds in cash her spirits leapt with joy. She stuffed the notes into her jods pocket.

  “I’ve got two rides coming up – that’ll make it five hundred pounds. And if I win!” Another ten per cent on top. “Ma, I’ll pay you back in no time, honestly.”

  “I’d do anything for you, you know that, Tessa.”

  Anything but move out of her stupid zombie life … Tessa was glad to get out of the stultifying house, and galloped back home over the rough wet grass.

  She went into Buffoon’s box and showed him the money. The stable was warm out of the winter night and Buffoon was snug under an old quilted rug. He was lying down, but didn’t bother to get up, used to Tessa’s frequent visits.

  “There, we’re on our way, Buffy.”

  Footsteps outside surprised her. Sarah stuck her head over the door and said there was a phone call for her from Tom’s mother. “She said would you ring back.”

  Tessa, used to shocks, thought Tom might have died. Her hands shook as she dialled the number on Sarah’s mobile.

  “Hullo, dear,” came the gentle voice. “If you would still like to visit, Tom would love to see you.”

  “Oh yes! Yes, I will! When?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon? He said only if you’re not racing.”

  “No. I’m not. I’ll come. Of course I’ll come.”

  “Say three o’clock? It will only be for a short time.”

 
; “Yes, I’ll be there.”

  When she had rung off, she wondered how – the hospital was miles away and she had no transport. But Sarah said she would take her, and wait while she visited. Peter would give her the time off.

  “How is he? Has the operation worked?”

  “I don’t know. She didn’t say.” She hadn’t asked. How stupid can you get?

  “Well, at least he’s still alive,” Sarah said. “Go and will him to get better, Tessa. You’ve got such a power in you.”

  “He did it for me,” Tessa said. But Sarah didn’t hear, or, if she did, she did not understand.

  The next day they drove in Sarah’s old banger some fifty miles to the enormous hospital which had decided the jockey’s fate. Sarah said she would wait in the car park. She had brought the form book with her and was happy to be stranded with a spare hour or two to study it, while Tessa tried to find her way through miles of white corridors to Tom’s bedside. He was in a room alone, and his mother was there with him. She got up to greet Tessa, a well-dressed, roundish woman with a country look, and the same clear blue eyes as Tom.

  “I’m so glad you were able to get here. It’s such a journey. I come from the other direction else I could have picked you up. But Peter said he would bring you if Sarah couldn’t. Everyone is so kind.”

  “They all like him so,” Tessa said bluntly. “It matters.”

  Mrs Bryant smiled. “Yes, it matters. Your visit matters too. I’ll leave you alone. I want a cup of tea.”

  She went out without saying anything to Tom, who lay on his back with his eyes shut. Tessa went up to the bed, wondering if he knew she was there. He looked terrible, as grey as the hospital linen, with frown lines of pain making him look older than his years.

  “Hi, Tom.”

  “Hi, yourself.” His voice was almost a whisper. It was hard to credit that this washed-up wreck had ever ridden in the Grand National.

  “How is it?” Tessa asked. “Are you cured?”

  “They don’t know yet.”

  “Oh Tom, you’ve got to! There’s nothing else – you’ve just got to. To ride Buffoon again.”

  Tom almost laughed. Tessa saw the surprise, the pain the amusement caused him, the impatience with the pain, the agonized frustration in his eyes. She was so moved by his plight that she took the hand lying on the sheet and kissed his fingers. The long strong fingers were now as white and soft as a lady’s. She cared that he got better as much as – more than – she had wanted it for Buffoon to come out of the shadow of death. Her whole being willed it for him, to be back to his proper self, riding and laughing up on the downs with the wind in his face and a great horse beneath him. He had to come back! She could not bear to see him so wiped out.