‘Are you all right, Mrs Dankworth?’ Alice-Miranda rushed around and began to thump her sharply between the shoulderblades. She was worried the woman might have inhaled an ice cube.
Roberta coughed and sputtered until finally she took another sip and began to calm down.
‘But I’d heard that her dogs had been stolen,’ Barry said quietly.
Alice-Miranda nodded. ‘Major Foxley said that she had one left – her grand champion. I think he called her Siggy.’
Roberta glared at her husband.
A feeble smile spread across his face. ‘You know you’ve got this year in the bag, Roberta,’ he whispered.
‘I’d better,’ she snapped.
Alice-Miranda walked back to the other side of the table and picked up her drink. She felt bad that she’d overheard their conversation. Apparently the competition at Chudleigh’s was even fiercer than she’d imagined.
Alice-Miranda clicked her tongue and Bonaparte began to trot. ‘What a beautiful afternoon,’ she said to Millie, who was jogging along beside her on Chops. The girls had just turned off the main road and were heading towards Chesterfield Downs.
‘I’m glad Charlie let me off this afternoon. I mean, it wasn’t exactly hard work puttering around in the boat while poor Charlie was pulling out the reeds, but I’d much rather be doing this,’ Millie said.
Alice-Miranda smiled at her friend. ‘I’m glad you could come too.’
‘That barbecue last night was pretty funny,’ Millie said, grinning at the memory. ‘Did you see the look on Mrs Dankworth’s face when you said Mrs Finchley was entering the show this year?’
‘Mrs Dankworth is very passionate about her hounds, that’s for sure,’ Alice-Miranda said.
‘Crazy, did you say? Who has a pool just for their dogs?’ Millie shook her head. ‘And that portable highchair for Farrah – I’ve never seen anything more ridiculous in my life. She makes Herr Fanger’s dedication to Princess Gertie look positively neglectful.’
Alice-Miranda laughed. ‘You have to admit the dogs are gorgeous.’
‘That’s true,’ Millie conceded, ‘but what’s the point in having a dog if you can’t play with it? Give me an ordinary old bitza any day of the week.’
Roberta Dankworth had taken the children on a tour of her kennels after dinner. But before they went anywhere, they were made to leave their shoes at the door and wash their hands with antibacterial gel. When Sep joked that she was probably going to make them wear surgical masks too, Roberta had spun around and told them that she only insisted on masks when one of her girls was having puppies.
Histrionics aside, Roberta’s dogs were every bit as beautiful as she’d told them. The woman had allowed them to pet a youngster called Sapphire, who was still quite a way off her first show, but they weren’t to go anywhere near the others. The children had all giggled at the sight of the dog wearing a large set of headphones, through which, Roberta explained, she liked to listen to country music. Apparently she’d experimented with a range of genres but country was the only style that the animal enjoyed. She certainly wasn’t your average family pet.
‘It should be quite a spectacle if everyone at the show is as fanatical as Roberta,’ Alice-Miranda said, earning a nod from Millie.
They trotted up the hill and past the driveway at Chesterfield Downs. The dirt lane meandered through endless green fields and row upon row of smart white fencing. Several horses dotted the landscape on the Chesterfield Downs side while on the other, flocks of woolly sheep bleated an afternoon greeting. After another mile or so, the white fencing gave way to regular wire and the girls could see a cottage in the distance on their left. The property was surrounded on either side by open paddocks, and thick woodland rose up at the rear.
‘That must be the Finchleys,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘Mr Parker said that it was the first house past Aunty Gee’s on the left-hand side.’
As the girls neared the property, they could see a white station wagon parked in the driveway. Bonaparte and Chops slowed to a walk and the girls pulled up outside the gate. The house was close to the road with a walled garden at the front and several stone outbuildings behind. There was evidence of a once-loved plot but the flowerbeds were overgrown and the patchy lawn needed mowing.
Alice-Miranda slipped out of the saddle and pulled the reins over Bony’s head. ‘Can you hold him while I go and see Mrs Finchley? I won’t be long.’
‘Sure.’ Millie slid to the ground and grabbed the two sets of reins. She led the pair of them to the other side of the laneway, where the greedy brutes thrust their heads into a thick patch of clover, tearing at the clumps.
Alice-Miranda opened the garden gate and walked up the weed-speckled path. She climbed the porch steps and rang the doorbell. It was some time before the door opened.
‘Hello, may I help you?’ asked a thin, dark-haired woman in a wheelchair.
Alice-Miranda stepped forward and shook her hand. ‘Hello Mrs Finchley. My name is Alice-Miranda Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones and I’m very pleased to meet you,’ she said with a smile.
‘It’s lovely to meet you too,’ Becca replied, her brow creasing in confusion, ‘but you seem to already know who I am.’
‘I go to school at Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale Academy for Proper Young Ladies and we’re helping with Chudleigh’s Dog Show in a couple of weeks’ time. Yesterday I met the chairman of the show, Major Foxley, and he asked whether I knew you or your son,’ Alice-Miranda began to explain.
‘Oh, I see,’ the woman said. Alistair Foxley hadn’t even sent her a condolence card after her husband died, so she was surprised to hear that he was asking after Daniel. Her father-in-law had always been wary of the man, although, to be fair, Alistair had never been anything other than charming to Becca. She supposed she could have missed some of the mail after the accident – things had been in such a jumble for so long.
‘Major Foxley has been trying to call you and said that he hasn’t been able to get through,’ the child said.
Becca frowned. ‘Oh, my machine mustn’t be working. I’m afraid that by the time I get to the phone it’s quite often stopped ringing. I’m not as speedy in this thing as I’d like to be. Did he say what he wanted?’
‘The committee would like to honour your husband and father-in-law at the show this year with the inaugural Finchley Award for Excellence,’ Alice-Miranda said.
‘Oh, really?’ Becca felt a pang of grief in her chest. ‘That’s very kind of them and it’s very kind of you to come all this way to tell me.’
‘It was no bother at all. My friend Millie and I had planned to ride our ponies to visit Miss Pepper at Chesterfield Downs, anyway,’ Alice-Miranda said, gesturing to where Chops and Bony were chomping away.
Suddenly, a pained yelp sounded from inside the house.
‘Oh dear, what’s happened?’ Becca said, trying to wheel herself around.
‘I can go,’ Alice-Miranda volunteered.
‘I think she’s in the kitchen.’ Becca pointed down the hallway as the poor creature’s distress grew amid a series of loud thumps and bumps.
Alice-Miranda fled down the passageway and into the kitchen. What appeared to be a dog with a jar of peanut butter firmly attached to its face was rushing about, crashing into the table legs and cupboards. Alice-Miranda burst out laughing. ‘You’re all right,’ she said in a soothing tone.
Becca wheeled into the room behind her. ‘Oh good heavens, what have you done to yourself, Siggy?’ she exclaimed, giggling. ‘Alice-Miranda, you’re going to have to grab her and hold on while I get that off.’
The child lunged at the dog and missed, then chased her around the table several times before finally scooping her into her arms. Siggy was scrabbling about, attempting to get free while Alice-Miranda was doing her best to avoid getting knocked in the head by the large jar.
‘Siggy, how on earth did you get into that?’ Becca could barely hold the jar for laughing. The woman pulled gently, causing the dog to whimper. �
�I’m sorry, my girl, but this is really stuck.’
The container had created a suction effect and, combined with the gooey contents, was proving hard to remove.
‘Why don’t you hold her and I’ll try?’ Alice-Miranda suggested, putting the dog in Becca’s lap. The woman held the spaniel as the child got a firm grip on the jar and began to ease it forward. There was a loud pop as the air rushed out and Siggy was free.
‘Oh, thank goodness,’ Becca said, cuddling the dog close. ‘You silly girl! I must have left the lid off the peanut butter this morning and she’d somehow sniffed it out. That could have been a disaster.’
Siggy looked up at Alice-Miranda. She had the most beautiful big brown eyes the child had ever seen. Her tongue flicked at the fur around her mouth as she lapped up the spread that was smeared all over her face.
‘You’re a bit of a mess,’ the girl said, chuckling to herself. She scurried to the sink and ran a dishcloth under the tap. ‘Is she your champion?’ Alice-Miranda asked, walking over to the dog.
Becca nodded. ‘Not that you’d know it looking at her now.’
Alice-Miranda grinned and began wiping Siggy’s face. With the creature’s caramel colouring, it was hard to tell where the peanut butter began and where it ended. ‘Her eyes look just like the puppy that we found at school,’ she remarked.
‘Really?’ Becca said.
‘Except that Major Foxley said he’s a crossbreed. Our little fellow is a cavoodle,’ the child explained.
‘I used to have cavaliers and toy poodles.’ Becca’s smile dissolved and she bit down on her lip.
‘Major Foxley said they were stolen when you were in hospital,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘That’s terrible.’
‘It seemed especially unfair, really. My heart was already broken what with my husband … Well, I’m sure you know what happened. Finding out about the dogs felt as if someone had shattered what was left of it into a million tiny pieces,’ Becca said, staring into the distance. She was lost in her thoughts for a moment, then glanced over at Alice-Miranda and smiled. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be telling you my troubles.’
Alice-Miranda couldn’t begin to imagine what the woman had suffered. She touched Becca’s arm and smiled. ‘You’ve been through an awful lot.’
The woman cleared her throat and, blinking back tears, patted the girl’s hand in gratitude.
‘I think you two have had enough grass for now,’ Millie said.
She pulled on the reins and Chops lifted his head, but getting Bonaparte to play nicely was a much more difficult affair. She pulled and pulled but the pony was determined to get every last chomp. Millie tugged sharply just as he was lifting his head. The beast turned and glared at her with contempt.
‘Serves you right for being so stubborn,’ she said, giving the reins another yank so he knew who was boss.
Millie held both ponies and began to walk from the shadow of the willow trees to the other side of the road when, out of nowhere, a white van sped into view. It was hurtling so fast that for a second she didn’t know what to do. Bonaparte whinnied and reared into the air, tearing the reins from Millie’s grasp. He took off and galloped up the lane as Millie struggled to hold Chops. She grabbed him tightly and ran across into the Finchleys’s driveway just as the vehicle rocketed past.
‘Idiots!’ Millie shouted. ‘You could have killed us!’
Her heart was racing at such a speed that she thought it was going to burst through her chest. She pulled the reins over Chops’s head and planted her left foot in the stirrup before hauling herself onto the pony’s back. Her legs felt like jelly as she flicked the reins and dug her heels in.
‘Come on!’ Millie yelled, urging her boy forward. She swallowed dust as Chops raced to catch up with the van, all the while hoping and praying that Bonaparte had the sense to get out of the way.
‘Watch out!’ Damon yelled. ‘You almost hit that horse and I reckon we would have come off second best.’
‘Well, we didn’t,’ Declan sneered.
‘What if that girl reports you to the police?’
‘Have you seen the number plates lately? She could be five feet away and still not be able to read them,’ Declan said. He turned the van into a patch of thick undergrowth and screeched to a stop in front of a gate. ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’
Damon grunted and hopped out. As he unlocked the gate and pushed it open, the van tore off up the track, which veered slightly to the right.
‘Hey, dog breath!’ he shouted. ‘Have a nice walk.’
Damon slammed the gate shut. It wasn’t as if it was the first time he’d walked the mile and a half to the sheds. For some reason his boofhead of a brother thought it was hilarious. It was old the first time he did it and now it was just downright ancient.
As the cloud of dust dissipated, Millie realised the van was long gone and Bonaparte was still nowhere to be seen. She slowed Chops to a trot and wondered if Alice-Miranda had realised they were missing yet.
‘Where could he be?’ Millie said aloud. She scanned the paddocks on either side of the road, looking for any open gates. Bonaparte wasn’t renowned as a jumper, but she reasoned that he could have managed to leap over a fence if he was as terrified as Chops had been. She noticed the fencing had changed from wooden posts to barbed wire, and her stomach twinged.
Millie contemplated turning back and asking Miss Pepper and Mr Wigglesworth to help with the search. She tugged on Chops’s reins. The poor pony was huffing and blowing. Millie’s bottom was wet with sweat and she could only imagine how drenched Chops would be too, especially underneath the saddlecloth.
‘Come on,’ she urged, spinning him around. She was about to head back when she spotted a flash of black behind a tree far off in the field. ‘Thank goodness,’ she said, breathing a sigh of relief.
Millie looked along the fence for a gate and spied a fallen tree, which had taken out a section further along, creating a narrow opening. She clicked her tongue, and Chops whinnied and pawed at the ground before walking on. Millie squeezed her thighs and he began to canter.
‘Bony!’ she called. The black pony looked at her, his ears twitching back and forth. He whinnied and danced around in a circle. ‘Stay there, please,’ she begged.
But it seemed the little beast had other ideas. Bonaparte turned around and galloped deeper into the woods. Millie gritted her teeth and urged her boy to go further. He leapt over a low log and through the thickening woodland. She could still see Bonaparte up ahead and he seemed to be slowing down. He trotted through the undergrowth until, finally, Millie spotted him by a stream. She pulled Chops to a halt and slid off the saddle, leading him quietly towards the other pony.
‘Bony,’ she whispered, trying not to startle him again.
The beast’s sides were heaving and she could see that his reins were split and the saddle was askew. He lowered his head into the cool flowing water and slurped a long drink. Millie led Chops down to the stream too. He was just as parched and guzzled greedily.
Millie reached into her pocket and found a sugar cube. She let go of Chops and walked as stealthily as she could towards Bony. ‘Hey, look what I’ve got,’ she said, holding out her hand. The pony skittered sideways and turned to look at her. His ears twitched, then he leaned forward and nibbled the sugar from Millie’s hand. The girl quickly grabbed the reins, giving him a gentle pat on the cheek and blowing softly into his flaring nostrils. ‘You poor little man. You must have been terrified.’
Millie considered whether she might be better off riding Bony back and leading Chops. There was less of a chance of losing him that way and, even though he was skittish, she’d been on much worse.
‘What do you think, fella? Shall we go and see Alice-Miranda?’ Millie righted the saddle and tightened the girth. She tied the reins back together and lifted them up over Bony’s head. She was just about to mount the pony when a sharp grating sound, like a metal shed door scraping on concrete, sent Bony reeling backwards. ‘You’re okay,’
she cooed.
The wind caught another sound – of barking dogs. Millie wondered where it was coming from all the way out here. She peered through the foliage but couldn’t see anything. Deciding to head back before Alice-Miranda mounted a search party, Millie gave Bony a pat, then put her foot into the stirrup and hauled herself up. She wheeled him around next to Chops and reached to grab her pony’s reins.
‘Come on, let’s go,’ she whispered, and dug her heel into Bony’s flank.
The pony broke into a canter as they headed out of the woods and towards the Finchleys’s place.
Alice-Miranda rinsed the dishcloth and handed it back to Becca, who gave the dog’s face one last wipe.
‘Now that’s better,’ the woman said.
The child rubbed Siggy’s cheek. ‘She’s a gorgeous dog. No wonder she’s a champion.’
‘Yes, I suspect that might all be past tense now, but we’ll give it a good shot, won’t we, Sig? My neighbour will be the one in the ring with her,’ Becca explained. ‘I can’t do it and Mrs Bird has agreed – and I can’t tell you how amazing she is with Siggy. The woman hasn’t ever shown before but you’d think she’d been on the circuit for years.’
‘I can’t wait to see them,’ Alice-Miranda said, ‘but I’d better be going or Millie will think I’m lost.’
Becca smiled at the girl. ‘It was lovely to meet you, Alice-Miranda, and I’ll call Major Foxley this evening.’
‘I can let myself out. See you at the show,’ Alice-Miranda said, and gave Siggy one last pat. ‘And you’d better stay out of the peanut butter jar, young lady.’
Alice-Miranda opened the front door and was surprised to find Millie and the ponies were gone. She walked around to the side of the house and spotted a boy jogging across the field. He leapt over the stile and into the garden. From the photographs she’d seen inside, she gathered that he was Becca Finchley’s son. ‘Hello,’ she called, giving him a wave.
Alice-Miranda to the Rescue Page 13
