Alice-Miranda Takes the Lead

by Jacqueline Harvey

  They bounded off across the oval and down the lane, chatting between bites of lunch.

  ‘Hello there Bonaparte,’ Alice-Miranda called, as she and Millie entered the cool brick stable block.

  A loud whinny pierced the air as Bonaparte spun around and thrust his head over the half door of the stable.

  ‘Are you starving again, you poor man?’ Millie fetched a loose carrot from the feed room and held it out to him. ‘Steady on there, greedy guts,’ she scolded, as Bonaparte almost inhaled her hand along with the carrot.

  Alice-Miranda picked up a brush, opened the stall door and walked inside. She began giving the pony a quick rub down. A young lad pushing a wheelbarrow full of straw entered the building and plodded towards them.

  ‘Hello miss.’ The boy put the barrow down and addressed Millie. ‘Is he yours?’ He motioned at Bonaparte’s stable, where Alice-Miranda was hidden from view.

  ‘No,’ Millie replied. ‘Definitely not.’

  Alice-Miranda scrambled onto the stall door, her feet dangling in the air as she hoisted herself up with her arms. ‘He’s mine.’

  ‘Goodness, miss, you do surprise me,’ the boy replied.

  ‘Why is that?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘Well, he’s a bit of a monster, that one – you take care in there.’

  ‘Oh dear, have you been a bad boy already, Bonaparte? I’m sorry if he’s given you any trouble. He’s really very sweet but he seems to be a bit set against young lads. Our poor Max at home cops it all the time. Just be firm, that’s the trick.’ Alice-Miranda slid down the door. She emerged from the stable and brushed Bonaparte’s grey fuzz from her uniform.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, holding her hand out to the young man. ‘My name is Alice-Miranda Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones, and I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr …’

  ‘It’s Wally, Wally Whitstable.’ The boy reached out slowly and shook her hand.

  ‘And this is Millie,’ said Alice-Miranda. Millie reached forward and shook his hand too.

  ‘Are you new here, Wally?’ Millie asked. She noticed he had the most brilliant emerald-green eyes and a shock of red hair to rival her own.

  ‘Yup, Charlie put me on last week – said that there were lots of ponies coming for the term and he needed some help. I like horses, I really do. I’m hoping to be a strapper if I can. I don’t imagine race-horses could be any more difficult than that bloke.’ Wally motioned his head towards Bonaparte.

  ‘That sounds like fun,’ Alice-Miranda smiled. ‘And I am sorry about Bony. I hope in time you might learn to like him a little bit. He’s really quite lovable when you get to know him.’

  ‘Do you have a pony, miss?’ Wally asked Millie.

  ‘Yes, his name’s Chudley Chops.’ Millie shook her head and rolled her eyes. ‘I know, like the dog food. Everyone thought it was a very funny joke when I decided to call him Chudley and then Dad added Chops because he thought it was hilarious. Anyway, we just call him Chops for short and he’s arriving very early on Saturday morning.’

  ‘Well, I’ll be pleased to make the acquaintance of old Chudley Chops. Now, I’d best get off and finish mucking out, and I think by my watch it must be time for your afternoon lessons.’ Wally excused himself.

  Alice-Miranda nodded. ‘We’ll see you soon, Wally. And you behave yourself, Bonaparte. Stay out of trouble.’

  Bonaparte whinnied loudly in reply and shook his head up and down as if to agree.

  ‘So, you will be a good boy,’ Alice-Miranda laughed.

  ‘Yes and I’ll believe that when I see it,’ Millie grabbed her friend’s hand and they charged off to class.

  The rest of the week passed by in a blur. Classes were busy and most of the girls spent any spare time learning lines in preparation for the upcoming auditions. Alice-Miranda, Jacinta and Millie were each trying out for several different parts, but Sloane informed them that there was only one decent role in the whole thing and there was no doubt it would be hers.

  Sloane didn’t seem especially keen to make friends with anyone, in spite of her mother’s insistence that she and Jacinta would become BFFs. Her attempts at conversation usually involved questions about what the girls’ parents did and where they lived and if they had a holiday house or a yacht. Alice-Miranda said that Sloane was probably just nervous and not good at making chitchat, but Millie thought she was a bit on the nosy side.

  Jacinta and Sloane had come to an uneasy truce. With no further evidence of Sloane meddling with her things, Jacinta decided she would give her a chance. But it wasn’t always easy, especially when she overheard Sloane talking to her mother on the telephone and the whole topic of conversation seemed to be her own mother and what she was reportedly up to that week.

  At Friday’s afternoon tea, which consisted of the most delicious apple pie, Millie asked around to see who would like to go out on a riding party on Saturday.

  ‘Count me in,’ Alice-Miranda nodded.

  ‘Me too,’ Susannah agreed.

  ‘Urgh, me not.’ Jacinta pulled a face. ‘I’ve got training and you know how I feel about horses – I’d rather file my nails.’

  The other girls laughed.

  ‘What about you, Sloane? Would you like to come riding?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘Um, yes, of course, but my new horse, Harry, hasn’t arrived yet. He should have been here but Mummy messed up the transport,’ she sulked.

  ‘That’s all right. I think there are a couple of spare ponies that Mr Charles is looking after for someone in the village. I’ll ask him if you can ride one of those,’ Alice-Miranda offered.

  Sloane hesitated. ‘Oh, okay.’

  ‘They’re pussycats, believe me,’ said Alice-Miranda. ‘I rode a gorgeous fellow called Stumps last term because Bonaparte was still at home. He’s the sweetest little man.’

  ‘A little pony? I don’t think he’ll be good enough for me.’ Sloane seemed to have regained her confidence.

  ‘Oh, he might be small, but he’s fast, especially going uphill,’ Alice-Miranda smiled.

  Sloane gulped. ‘Well, it’s just that I’m used to having a really big proper horse, not some dinky pony. I’m just not sure …’

  ‘Oh, come on, Sloane – if you can handle proper horses, I’m sure you’ll have no problems with old Stumps,’ Millie grinned.

  And so it was all arranged. Alice-Miranda and Millie marched off to find Mr Charles and tell him of their plans. A quick visit to Mrs Smith ensured there would be a picnic feast fit for a king. She insisted that they should have egg sandwiches and tea and scones with jam and cream. The group would ride as far as Gertrude’s Grove where Wally would deliver their spread in time for lunch.

  Just before 10 am on Saturday, Sloane Sykes asked her room mate if she had a spare pair of riding breeches she could borrow. And a shirt and helmet and gloves, if possible, as hers were still at home, along with the elusive new horse that was due to arrive any day now. Although Jacinta hated riding, her mother had insisted that she have a complete outfit, just in case she changed her mind. This time Jacinta found herself handing over her belongings quite happily.

  ‘You know, if you don’t like to ride, you should just say so,’ Jacinta offered.

  ‘It’s not that at all.’ Sloane stood admiring her reflection in the long mirror behind their bedroom door. Certainly the outfit suited her.

  ‘Well, there’s no shame in saying what you really think,’ Jacinta tried again.

  ‘I love riding and I’m very good at it,’ Sloane said, almost too emphatically.

  ‘Okay then, have a good time.’ Jacinta pulled on her tracksuit pants and sat down to lace up her shoes. ‘I’ll see you after training.’

  Sloane was halfway out the door when she turned back. ‘Does your mother come and take you out at the weekends?’

  Jacinta looked up and frowned. ‘You’re kidding, aren’t you? I think your mother knows more about where my mother is from week to week. I haven’t seen her since Christmas.’

  ‘Oh
,’ Sloane mouthed. ‘So I guess I won’t be able to meet her anytime soon. My mother was hoping they could have tea together when she comes to collect me for mid-term.’

  ‘Well, unless every last one of my mother’s friends suddenly wind up in hospital or worse, I can pretty much guarantee that I’ll be staying here for mid-term, so tell your mother that if she had hoped to meet the oh-so-famous Ambrosia Headlington-Bear, she’s going to be sorely disappointed.’

  Jacinta picked up her gym bag and pushed past Sloane. She was very glad she wasn’t going riding. Horses weren’t the only thing she found irritating.

  Sloane was beginning to wonder what the point of being at boarding school really was. So far, she hadn’t met anyone remotely famous and her room mate’s mother was turning out to be a huge disappointment. As for being invited away on holidays, she hadn’t any prospects yet. School was okay – the lessons were quite good and the teachers seemed to know their stuff, but what use was it if you didn’t get to meet the right people?

  Her mother promised that boarding school would change her life. In fact, both Sloane’s parents had been thrilled when her step-granny Henrietta had arranged for her and her brother to go to boarding school. The old woman didn’t have any children of her own, so when she married Sloane’s grandfather, Percy Sykes, rather late in life, she inherited Sloane and Septimus as grandchildren. When Percy died last year and left Sloane’s parents his grocery shop with the flat above, they sold the lot quick smart, even though Henrietta was supposed to be able to live there for as long as it suited her. In September’s opinion, Henrietta was both ancient and dotty, so she convinced her husband that the elderly lady would be better served in an aged person’s home. It hadn’t been too hard for them to shuffle her off to a place called Golden Gates. The nurses told September and Smedley that Henrietta kept asking to see her family. But Henrietta didn’t have any other relatives, so clearly, thought September, the old woman was losing her mind!

  Sloane had started to wonder if her mother thought she was an inconvenience too, just like Granny Henrietta. She glanced at her watch and went to telephone her mother. September insisted that she call home every day for an update.

  ‘Hello Mummy.’ Sloane sounded less than excited.

  ‘Well, how are you getting on then? Where have you been invited to?’ her mother asked.

  ‘Nowhere. It’s completely dull here and I want to come home,’ Sloane nagged. ‘The girls are all so boring and they don’t do anything fun. Jacinta told me her mother won’t even be coming to get her at mid-term.’

  ‘Well,’ said September, changing tack, ‘try someone else then. You know the little one’s parents are completely loaded. I think you’ll find they’re richer than the Queen – and most likely related.’

  ‘Good grief, no. She’s the most painful Pollyanna I’ve ever met. She smiles all the time and she’s happy all the time and she never complains about anything, not ever. It’s just not normal,’ Sloane grouched. ‘And when are you sending my horse? I’m going riding today and I have to borrow this horrid little pony – and I had to sponge Jacinta’s riding gear as well. If you want me to fit in here, I can’t be borrowing things all the time.’

  ‘Sloane, you know we can’t afford a horse,’ her mother whispered. ‘What with your grandfather only leaving us such a dreadful, cheap little shop and flat. But don’t worry; your father’s new business is going to be a licence to print money. It won’t be long until we can buy you everything you could possibly want. But for now, you know there’s no harm in borrowing. If the girls offer, it would be rude not to.’

  Sloane hung up the phone. In her opinion, life simply wasn’t fair.

  Millie, Alice-Miranda and Susannah were already in the stables when Sloane appeared. She looked the part in her borrowed gear and the girls all commented on her beautiful riding jacket. Sloane didn’t tell them it was actually Jacinta’s – she couldn’t see the point.

  Wally Whitstable had been busy helping the girls saddle their mounts. Bonaparte was now standing beside Chops, flicking the older pony with his tail. They’d already had a mighty squabble that ended with Bonaparte giving Chops a nasty nip on the neck.

  ‘He seems to be in a bit of a mood, miss.’ Wally gave Bonaparte a friendly pat on the backside and was nearly kicked for his trouble.

  ‘I don’t know what’s gotten into him.’ Alice-Miranda shook her head. She looked her pony in the eye. ‘Bonaparte Napoleon Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones, you stop that behaviour at once or there will be no treats and no ride.’

  At the mention of treats, Bony whinnied loudly.

  ‘No, I said, no treats – you need to understand the difference,’ Alice-Miranda tutted.

  ‘Hurry up, Sloane,’ Millie directed. ‘That’s Stumps in there. You’ll need to put his bridle on.’

  Sloane entered the stall. Stumps was already saddled with his lead rope tied loosely to a hook on the wall. There was a bridle hanging on the back of the stall door. Sloane grabbed it and tried to work out what went where.

  ‘Okay, let’s put this on,’ she muttered under her breath. Sloane approached the pony and began to force the bridle over his head. Unfortunately she hadn’t yet undone the straps and it was proving more than a little difficult.

  Wally had just finished helping Susannah with her pony Buttercup, when he spotted Sloane.

  ‘Would you like some help there, miss?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, you should have done it already.’ Sloane let go of the bridle and it fell to the ground. ‘I haven’t got time to be fussing around with that silly thing.’

  ‘Well, if you want to go riding then I think that silly thing is rather important.’ Wally retrieved the bridle from the floor and undid the throat lash. ‘Would you like to give me a hand?’

  ‘No, not especially. Isn’t that what you get paid for?’ Sloane sneered at the lad.

  Alice-Miranda walked over to Stumps’s stable. ‘If you’re nervous, Sloane, that’s perfectly all right. My daddy says that it’s good to be wary around horses no matter how well you know them. Bonaparte always keeps me on my toes.’

  ‘I’m not nervous. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just that stupid silver thing – it’s not the same as the one I have at home.’ Sloane pouted.

  Millie and Susannah joined them.

  ‘You mean the bit, is that what you’re talking about?’ Millie’s suspicions that Sloane wasn’t a rider were beginning to ring true.

  ‘Yes, of course I meant the bit – what else would I be talking about?’ Sloane’s eyes drilled into Millie.

  Wally finished bridling Stumps and led the pony out into the passageway. ‘Well, he’s all yours, miss.’ He handed the reins to Sloane.

  ‘This is going to be such fun.’ Alice-Miranda pulled a stool up beside Bonaparte and nimbly hopped onto his back with the expertise of someone who had been riding most of her life. Millie didn’t bother with the stool and easily hauled herself onto Chops’s back. Susannah’s much larger horse, Buttercup, swayed lazily as she put her foot into the stirrup and swung gently into the saddle. This left Sloane marooned beside Stumps.

  ‘Would you like a leg-up, miss?’ Wally offered.

  Sloane shook her head and pulled a stool up next to the pony.

  ‘Excuse me, miss,’ Wally began. ‘You’re not going to get on from there are you?’

  ‘Why?’ Sloane looked around. The other girls were sitting atop their mounts waiting for her.

  ‘Because that’s the far side of the horse and you never get on that side. Usually scares them.’

  Sloane gulped loudly. ‘Well, at my riding school, we always get on from this side. My riding teacher went to the Olympics and he rode the Spanish dancing horses too.’

  ‘Gosh, that’s amazing,’ Alice-Miranda gasped.

  ‘Weird, more like it,’ Millie added. ‘I’ve never heard of anyone who’s been in the Olympics and with the Spanish dancing horses.’

  ‘Well, it’s true,’ Sloane snapped. ‘And if you don’t
believe me, I won’t bother coming.’

  ‘Of course we believe you, Sloane,’ Alice-Miranda soothed. But Alice-Miranda had a strange feeling that something wasn’t quite right – and if there was one thing she was usually right about, it was her strange feelings.

  Stumps began to snort. As Sloane attempted to throw her leg over his back, he spun around and butted her bottom with his head. She fell to the ground with a thud, right in the middle of a freshly steaming pile of manure deposited moments ago by Bonaparte.

  ‘Ahh,’ she cried. ‘You little beast. Look at me!’

  Sloane’s white riding breeches now resembled the patchy hide of a Guernsey cow.

  ‘There, there, miss.’ Wally grabbed the pony’s reins and wheeled him back around. ‘I think the poor fellow just got a bit nervous. Perhaps if you try getting on the usual way? An old bloke like Stumps is not used to fancy Spanish riding habits.’

  Sloane picked herself off the floor. She was sorely tempted to tell the other girls she wasn’t feeling well.

  ‘Are you all right, Sloane?’ Millie asked. ‘You know, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.’

  But Sloane took Millie’s comment as a challenge and she was determined to prove the little brat wrong.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she spat and this time, standing on the near side of the pony, she swung herself into the saddle. Stumps stood perfectly still – not even an ear twitched.

  ‘Well, come on then everyone, let’s go!’ Alice-Miranda clicked her tongue and the group moved off into the bright sunshine.

  Millie and Chops led the group as they made their way down the lane into the woods. Sloane spent most of the time watching how the other girls managed their ponies. She’d been on a horse only once before, at the local show on a lead rope. But no one needed to know that now and besides, she seemed to be doing quite well.

  The group walked and then trotted for a while. When Millie called out that they were going to canter, Sloane yelled back that she thought Stumps was tired and they could go on without her if they wanted.