New Boss at Birchfields

by Henrietta Reid

  At least one always knew where one was with Blane Lennox, she thought, a little piqued at the abrupt dismissal.

  He was right about the tack room, she decided, as she surveyed it in dismay. Bottles of liniment were scattered among tins of saddle soap and metal polish. On a windowsill was a half empty bottle of milk, some unwashed mugs and the remains of a half-eaten snack. She set to work determinedly. She would let her new employer know right away that she had no intention of slacking.

  It didn’t take her long to get things shipshape. Finally there remained the snack on the windowsill to be dealt with, and she was wondering what she ought to do with someone’s half eaten roll when she became conscious that she was being observed, and turned to find Johnny regarding her, a smile on his freckled face.

  ‘Hello! So you’re really working here? This is a bit of luck. First time a pretty girl has joined the gang!’ he said with boyish admiration, and Briony had to laugh.

  ‘Thanks! But I doubt if I’ll look very pretty by the end of the day. This isn’t the sort of job for anyone who wants to look glamorous.’

  ‘No.’ He sauntered about admiring the new order she had established. ‘I’m sorry, it was a bit of a mess. The boss is always on to us about the way we keep it, but usually when the tack’s finished there just isn’t time to tidy up.’

  ‘It appears to me that Mr. Lennox has very high standards,’ Briony sniffed.

  Johnny looked at her, faintly puzzled. ‘Yes, that’s true. But then he works very hard himself, you know.’

  ‘You seem to like working for him,’ Briony remarked. ‘But from what I’ve seen so far he appears to be a bit of a taskmaster.’

  ‘He doesn’t go in for fancy talk,’ Johnny admitted. ‘And he has some splendid animals. No broken-down old nags for the Lennox Riding School! I like it here—I always wanted to work with horses. And Mr. Lennox’s bark is worse than his bite.’

  ‘His bark is quite enough as far as I’m concerned,’ Briony told him.

  Johnny grinned. ‘You don’t know half of it. Watch k you don’t get into hot water or you’ll really get the edge of his tongue!’

  She glanced about with satisfaction. ‘I don’t think he can have any complaints about the tack room at any rate—except for those dreadful bits and pieces on the windowsill.’

  ‘Oh, just shove them in the cupboard,’ Johnny told her airily. ‘And mind you don’t throw away Andy’s bun,’ he added with a grin. ‘He’ll want it for his elevenses.’

  ‘And now I’d better give a hand helping to water the ponies,’ Briony remarked when she had done as he directed. ‘And I think you’d better get back to work or Mr. Lennox will be down on you like a ton of bricks.’

  Johnny sighed as he slid off the table. ‘All right, but I’ll help you with the buckets first. They’re pretty heavy. I can’t imagine why the boss gave you that job.’

  Well, I can, Briony was thinking as she walked towards the water trough in the yard. He intended her to realise that unless she could measure up to Johnny and Andy she would not be worth her keep, and he was determined to test her mettle at the outset.

  She told Johnny that she would be perfectly well able to manage on her own, but he insisted on helping her with the first bucket. They were half way across the yard when a deep harsh voice startled both of them. Water from the bucket splashed over and drenched Briony’s ankles. Johnny turned, blinking nervously as Blane Lennox advanced. His walk was typical of the man, Briony decided, deliberate—yes, and arrogant too.

  ‘I want it to be understood, Johnny, that you’re not here to assist Briony. You’ve your own work to do. Go about it immediately.’

  As Johnny hastened away, Briony picked up the bucket. As Johnny had said, it was heavy, but aware that Blane Lennox was watching her, she held herself as upright as possible. She would let him see that she was able to measure up to the boys.

  But she breathed a sigh of relief when, later in the morning, they had a tea-break in the tack room. Andy McLeish quickly returned to work, but Johnny lingered a little.

  As he followed her out into the yard, a small car drove in. Out of it stepped a tall slim girl and a child in riding clothes.

  ‘Here comes trouble!’ Johnny told her. ‘That Sandra Wilson is a little devil. She’s here for her own special lesson. Not that she’ll ever be able to ride well, not if she kept at it until she’s a hundred! But she thinks she knows it all and can’t be taught.’

  ‘Is that her mother with her?’ Briony asked.

  ‘Not likely!’ Johnny laughed. ‘That’s Senga MacNeil. She’s games mistress, or whatever you like to call her, at Laureston School. She’s new to the place, and I’ll say this for her, she’s a great rider, almost as good as the boss, and he’s one of the best.’

  And now Briony looked at the tall girl more attentively. She was not really very good-looking, her face was rather too long and narrow, but the high cheekbones and slightly slanted eyes gave her an exotic look, and she wore her clothes with style. It was easy to picture her as an athlete, skiing at Aviemore, playing a hard game of tennis, excelling at all outdoor sports.

  At this point Blane Lennox made his appearance, and stood chatting with Senga MacNeil while Sandra Wilson, looking bored and sullen, flicked at her shoes with her crop.

  A few moments later Blane came striding towards the tack room. ‘Ah, there you are!’ he exclaimed to Briony. ‘I’ve a pupil for you.’

  ‘What?’ Briony exclaimed. ‘You mean, give a lesson—now?’ She gazed at him in dismay. Somehow she didn’t feel ready to give a lesson yet: she had not become acclimatised to this new job. Besides, she had not expected to have to give lessons to children as old as Sandra. She had visualised herself as leading out the very young children. It was rather daunting to have to deal right away with a pupil who, according to Johnny, thought she knew everything already.

  But Blane Lennox was saying, ‘Yes, a lesson now. Why not? That’s what you’re employed for, isn’t it?’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course!’ she said quickly.

  ‘Well then, shake a leg,’ he commanded impatiently. ‘Johnny will saddle up for you. Use the Fells pony and Boru.’ He swung around and disappeared.

  As she left the tack room with Johnny she saw him rejoin Senga MacNeil. They spoke together for a moment or two and then strolled off towards the house. The girl Sandra wandered off and began prowling about among the stables while Johnny and Briony saddled the ponies.

  ‘Penny is a nice little pony,’ Johnny was remarking as he tightened the girths on the Fells pony. ‘She’s surefooted and safe. Now Boru’s a different cup of tea,’ he went on as he placed the saddle on the back of the Connemara pony and slid it back into place. ‘Boru is as good as gold in the right hands, but he’s lively and has a mind of his own.’

  Grateful for the tips, Briony decided that Sandra had better ride Penny, but when all was ready and Johnny had hurried off to his own tasks, it soon became clear that Sandra had other ideas.

  ‘I’m not going to ride that stodgy old Fells pony,’ she protested when it was made clear to her that Penny was to be her mount. ‘I’m to get lessons in jumping any day now. Besides,’ And here she cast Briony a sly glance from the corners of her eyes, ‘Mr. Lennox said I was to have Boru next time. He said I’ve come on so well I’m perfectly well able to ride him now.’

  Briony hesitated. Sandra’s mouth was set in sulky determination and it was clear she was bent upon getting her own way. Was it true, Briony wondered, that Blane Lennox had said she was sufficiently advanced to ride the lively little Connemara pony? According to Johnny Sandra had no talent for riding, but then his standards were probably pretty high. If only there were someone she could consult! There was no sign now of either Andy or Johnny, and she could not bring herself to go to the house and ask Blane Lennox himself. The thought of the cutting remarks he would make—and in front of the elegant Senga MacNeil too—was enough to make her dismiss the idea immediately.

>   As she hesitated she became aware that Sandra was watching her, a sly look on her sullen face. If she were to delay any longer she would lose all control of the situation, Briony told herself.

  She straightened her shoulders determinedly. ‘Very well, you may ride Boru, but I hope for your own sake you’re telling the truth. If Mr. Lennox said you may ride Boru, then that’s all right, but as he isn’t here—’

  Sandra gave a little crowing burst of laughter. ‘No, he’s not here. He’s probably canoodling with Senga MacNeil and you may be sure he wouldn’t want you to interrupt them. She fell for him the very first moment she saw him—it was written all over her face. So you may be sure she wouldn’t want you to interrupt them either.’

  ‘Come along,’ said Briony, breaking in upon this. ‘It’s time you had your lesson.’

  They walked the ponies along the road for a short distance and then Sandra led the way up a narrow sloping path.

  Following her, Briony was able to judge her riding ability, and instantly she was struck by the fact that everything Johnny had said about Sandra was correct. The child seemed to have no natural aptitude for riding. She sat her mount awkwardly, like a sack of flour.

  When they came to a part where the path widened out, Briony began to instruct her. ‘You’re slumping in the saddle,’ she told her. ‘Hold yourself upright and don’t saw on Bora’s mouth.’

  As Sandra received these instructions she darted Briony a surly glance, then stuck out her lower lip and relapsed into a brooding silence.

  It was clear Sandra was the child of rich and indulgent parents who could not deny their lone chick anything her heart desired. And no doubt her pettish behaviour had left her without any friends at Laureston School. Briony went on with the lesson, commenting on the faults she saw in Sandra’s riding, and eventually Sandra said furiously, ‘I shouldn’t be walking along like this, you know. Daddy says I should be jumping by this time.’

  Briony gasped. ‘Well, you’re not going to try jumping—not while you’re my pupil! Why, you haven’t mastered even the most elementary things about riding.’

  ‘That’s not true!’ Sandra blazed. ‘I can jump. I can jump!’

  Their course had taken them in a wide loop behind the Riding School and they were now about to re-enter the grounds from the opposite side. Briony caught a glimpse of Blane Lennox and Senga MacNeil in the stable yard. They were standing talking, obviously waiting for Sandra’s return.

  Whether she desired to return in style, or perhaps because she wanted to give the lie to Briony’s criticisms, Sandra suddenly urged the Connemara forward, setting it towards a low wall about a couple of feet high.

  Seeing how slackly she was sitting in the saddle, Briony cried out, ‘Stop! Slow down, Sandra!’

  An accident was averted only by the fact that before she reached the wall Sandra slid helplessly sideways from the saddle and fell into a narrow and very muddy burn which ran beside the path. By the time Briony arrived at the spot Sandra was already rising to her feet.

  Her cream jodhpurs were now encrusted with mud, her jacket and hair soaked and, to complete the picture, her riding hat was floating like a little boat on the stream, sailing away in the direction of the stables.

  Her mishap had knocked all the perkiness out of her. When, with Briony’s help, she stood once more on firm ground, she looked dazed and forlorn.

  ‘There, you’re all right. You’re not hurt,’ Briony told her consolingly. She took out her handkerchief and without much success was trying to wipe some of the mud from the girl’s jodhpurs as Blane Lennox and Senga MacNeil joined them.

  ‘Look at my new riding clothes!’ Sandra wailed. ‘What’s Mummy going to say?’

  ‘What happened?’ Blane Lennox broke in abruptly. ‘It was all her fault,’ Sandra defended herself. ‘She was very rude. She said I was slack in the saddle and that I don’t hold the reins properly. She kept nagging and nagging and—’

  ‘Just a moment! Why was the child riding Boru?’ he asked Briony.

  ‘She told me you said she was sufficiently advanced to ride the Connemara pony.’

  ‘And you believed her?’ he snapped.

  ‘Come, Blane!’ Senga MacNeil laid a slim brown hand on his arm. ‘Give the girl a chance! She’s new here. How was she to know Sandra’s a little exhibitionist, always showing off! But come along, Sandra,’ she added. ‘We’d better be getting back. Although what they’re going to think when they see you in that condition, I don’t know. Still, I suppose it serves you right, because you’ll very definitely be in trouble when we get back to the school.’

  But Briony took pity on Sandra, who at that moment looked a picture of misery. She was shivering slightly. Wet and miserable, she was clearly apprehensive of her reception at Laureston. ‘Let me take her to the tack room first and give her a cup of tea,’ Briony pleaded. ‘She could warm up, and maybe I could clean her up a bit.’

  ‘Yes, that’s a good idea, especially if you could make her a bit more presentable,’ the games mistress said with relief. It was clear she was pleased at Briony’s suggestion. ‘There would be one of those tiresome inquisitions if she were to return to the school in that condition,’ she told Briony.

  Briony glanced in Blane Lennox’s direction. Frowningly he nodded assent, and immediately she took the child off to the tack room.

  As she placed a cup of milky sweet tea in Sandra’s hands and rummaged around for a sugary bun with currants left over from the morning break, she was surprised to hear Sandra say, ‘I’m sorry I blamed you.’ With an effort she added, ‘It wasn’t your fault I fell off, of course, but—’

  ‘But you had to get yourself off the hook,’ Briony finished.

  Somehow, although she was aware that the incident might cost her her job, she could not feel any animosity against this lonely misfit of a child.

  As colour began to creep back into Sandra’s pale cheeks, Briony took out her own comb and began to tease out the tangles in the child’s long bright fair hair.

  Suddenly, to Briony’s astonishment, Sandra laid down the remains of the bun and burst out, ‘I hate riding!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I hate it. I hate it!’ cried Sandra shrilly. ‘I’m so frightened all the time. And Daddy’s bought me a beautiful white pony and I won’t be able to stay on, and Daddy doesn’t know I can’t jump, and—’

  ‘Tell me, Sandra,’ Briony interrupted, ‘did you have a little Shetland pony when you were very small?’

  ‘No, last year is the very first time I ever had a pony.’

  ‘But why was that, if your father wants you to be a good horsewoman?’

  ‘Because when I was tiny we were quite poor. It’s only now that we have cars and ponies and a beautiful big house, and I’m able to go to Laureston School.’

  ‘And now you have a pony of your own at home and your father wants you to learn how to ride well? Is that it?’

  ‘Yes. You see, he wants me to join a pony club and ride in gymkhanas. And I want to win prizes so that he’ll be proud of me and know what a great horsewoman I am. But I can’t help being frightened.’

  ‘Mr. Lennox has bought Shetland ponies for the younger children,’ Briony remarked. ‘Perhaps one of them might suit you and you could go back and begin again from the beginning. You would have far more confidence if you were on a very little pony and felt sure you wouldn’t fall off.’

  ‘But Shetland ponies aren’t nice—not really,’ Sandra complained. ‘They bite me and kick me when they get the chance. Anyway, I hate horses,’ she added.

  ‘There doesn’t seem to be any answer to that,’ Briony admitted.

  She damped a sponge and removed as much mud as she could from the once immaculate jodhpurs.

  As they were about to go out, Sandra said in a small voice, ‘You’re not the smallest bit afraid of horses, are you?’

  ‘No,’ Briony admitted. ‘But I think that’s because I learned to ride when I was very little. I had a wonderful little Shetland c
alled Pixie. He was mischievous in many ways and sometimes if he was cross with me he used to buck me off. But I didn’t mind, because he was so small that I hadn’t far to fall. But before that I had a lovely little grey donkey. He was a great pet and I loved him very much.’

  ‘Now donkeys are nice, I wish I had a donkey,’ Sandra said wistfully.’

  ‘They’re so cuddly and they walk along very slowly and you don’t have to worry in case you fall off. Only I suppose I’m too tall now.’

  ‘It would depend on what size the donkey was,’ Briony told her. ‘On the Continent, grown-up people ride on donkeys and nobody thinks it’s the least bit strange.’

  They went across the yard and joined Blane and Senga, who were standing chatting near Senga’s small neat car.

  Senga surveyed Sandra critically. ‘Well, you have done wonders!’ she congratulated Briony. ‘She’s quite presentable now—well, at least, passable.’ She smiled. ‘I’ll be able to smuggle her into the school without creating too much of a scene.’ To Sandra she said, ‘We’ll keep this little adventure to ourselves, if you like. There’s no need for us to spread it about the school. After all, everyone falls off when they’re learning to ride and—to say the least of it—you’re no exception.’

  At this Sandra brightened and gave a rather watery smile.

  Sandra seated herself in the car and Briony moved away across the yard and as she did so she heard Senga say, ‘I’ll be along for my own lesson tomorrow. You’ll let me have the palomino, won’t you?’