The Wild Boy and Queen Moon Read online

  ‘It’s my new pony. I bought it myself. I part-exchanged Minnie. And my mother won’t have it in her yard, she said, so I rode over to ask if I can keep her here.’

  Both girls were obviously impressed.

  ‘What, you part-exchanged Minnie without telling your mother?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Cor.’ Everyone knew Mrs Marsden and her quick temper. ‘I say! I bet she wasn’t pleased!’

  ‘She was furious. Well, I knew she would be.’

  Sandy had a nasty feeling that her remark on the bus might have sparked off this awesome act of rebellion. She felt her blushes mounting at the thought. The new pony was nice, standing quietly while they talked, not jigging about on springs as Minnie would have been.

  ‘Could I keep her here, as a paying livery?’

  ‘Well, yes. We’ve got room.’

  Even as she said it, Sandy could see that her close friendship with Leo could be threatened. Three was always awkward, two pairing against one, and could she be sure it would always be herself and Leo, the pair? Or would Julia keep herself to herself, as she did at school? And if the Magic Man ever turned up, Julia would be the attraction, she was so pretty. Sandy blushed some more, thinking such unworthy thoughts. Julia was welcome to Anthony Sneerwell.

  Just as she thought this, Anthony’s car appeared at the top of the lane. He came down, driving too fast, and pulled up beside them. He stuck his head out of the window.

  ‘Who’s that cretin on the grey? One of your mob?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I nearly hit him. Riding like a maniac – had the cheek to make a rude gesture at me.’

  Leo said, ‘Good,’ under her breath, and Sandy said, ‘Have you come to ride? I haven’t put your horse out.’

  ‘Yes, I have.’

  ‘Try to,’ Leo said as he put his car noisily into gear and drove on into the yard.

  ‘Come and watch,’ Sandy said in a friendly tone to Julia. ‘It’s great fun.’

  ‘A laugh a minute,’ Leo said.

  Heartened by the friendly invitation, Julia followed them into the yard.

  SANDY SHOWED JULIA a spare loosebox and let her get on with putting down the bedding. She went back to Leo and said, ‘Cor, what’ve we let ourselves in for?’

  ‘I thought you said we were full, after King of the Fireworks?’

  ‘That end box is big enough for a pony. And Uncle Arthur keeps saying he’s going to give up. He hardly ever comes these days.’

  ‘If he takes Empress of China away, poor old Fireworks’ll pine. He’s in love with her.’

  ‘I know. That’s half Mr Sneerwell’s trouble.’

  ‘Are we going to help him?’

  ‘Someone will have to!’

  Anthony Speerwell had not yet had a satisfactory ride on King of the Fireworks. The big hunter, having fallen in love with the mare in the adjoining box, was unhappy about leaving her and, when saddled and bridled, refused to leave the yard. Any good rider would soon sort him out but the horse knew, as soon as Anthony got on him, that he had no authority. Twice, Sandy and Leo had led him away down the lane until he was out of earshot of the Empress’s shrill love-calls. Anthony did not seem to be ashamed of having to be led by little girls: he called the horse a ‘thicko’ and a ‘nutter’ and never seemed to think any of it might be his fault.

  ‘He’s got a skin as thick as a rhinoceros,’ Leo said. ‘He’d never believe you if you told him he can’t ride.’

  ‘When he’s fallen off enough times it might sink in.’

  They sat in the tackroom and discussed Julia’s revelations, and decided that mummy Marsden would soon relent and have the pony home.

  ‘I don’t think she’ll trouble us for long,’ Leo said.

  ‘She can’t be all that bad, doing that, swapping Minnie,’ Sandy said. ‘Very brave.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Leo.

  They waited until the clatter of hooves going backwards and angry shouts told them Anthony was aboard and trying to leave the yard. They looked out. Julia had come out of her pony’s box and was watching critically.

  ‘He’s got a screw loose, this horse,’ Anthony said disparagingly.

  ‘Make him walk on,’ Julia said.

  ‘I’m trying, aren’t I?’

  Julia shrugged.

  Anthony gave Fireworks a wallop with the hunting crop he always brought with him, and Fireworks gave an almighty buck so that Anthony landed up the horse’s neck. Fireworks then ducked his head and Anthony slid gently down on to the ground. Fireworks turned round and went to slobber over Empress of China, looking lovingly over her door.

  Julia said something scathing to Anthony which Sandy and Leo didn’t hear. They heard Anthony say, ‘If you know everything, you ride him then.’

  ‘All right,’ said Julia.

  She went to Fireworks, led him away from the Empress and, although he was so tall and she so small, mounted him with apparently no trouble at all. She then walked him calmly and without any fuss out of the yard and into the lane.

  ‘You want him now?’ she called back.

  Sandy and Leo exchanged glances. It was very impressive.

  Anthony shouted, ‘Well, he’s given in, hasn’t he? He only does it for a minute or two.’

  He lumbered away in pursuit, dressed in his best hacking clothes. He always came looking as if he was going to a show. Sandy and Leo couldn’t understand why he wasn’t mortified with embarrassment at being shown up by Julia, but obviously his rhinoceros skin was undented.

  Julia came back on her feet, smiling, and went back into Faithful’s box, and in a moment King of the Fireworks followed at a smart trot. He went straight over to Empress of China and stuck his head in over her door. Anthony, shooting forward at the sudden stop, hit his head hard on the door lintel. His hat came down over his eyes, badly dented.

  Smothering giggles, Sandy and Julia went out to help. Anthony was swearing at his horse, very angry.

  ‘Honestly, all horses do this sort of thing if they get the chance,’ Sandy said. ‘You’ve got to be very firm with him. Once he gets the message, he won’t try it on any more.’

  ‘He’s a lunatic! He’s dangerous! How am I going to get a ride if he won’t even leave the yard?’

  ‘You’ll have to take the Empress with you!’

  ‘She needs exercising,’ Sandy said. ‘Uncle Arthur hardly ever rides her now, and he doesn’t like her being out in the field unless the sun’s shining – she’s bored rigid.’

  ‘You could ride and lead,’ Leo suggested.

  ‘I’ll ride her, if you like.’ Julia emerged from Faithful’s box and made the offer. ‘If her owner wouldn’t mind, that is.’

  ‘No. He’s always asking us to exercise her. Go ahead. I’ll fetch her saddle and bridle.’

  Neither Sandy nor Leo were keen to ride out with Anthony. They thought Julia’s offer pushy but useful. Between them they tacked up the chestnut mare while King of the Fireworks stood waiting hopefully. Empress of China was a clapped-out racehorse of about sixteen and a half hands, fourteen years old, a bright chestnut with a ewe neck and a spine that stuck up however much she ate. She had long rubbery ears and her lower lip hung down, giving her a goofy expression. Her eyes were shrewd; she was intelligent for a horse and not over-eager to please, although she responded to a good rider, which she rarely got.

  ‘She can go bonkers occasionally,’ Sandy warned Julia. ‘But nothing evil.’

  Julia hopped up and the Empress’s expression changed to one of surprise. She pulled herself together even before Julia had asked anything, and set off out of the yard with King of the Fireworks at her side.

  Sandy and Leo watched them go, not quite knowing what to think.

  ‘Perhaps Julia fancies Sneerwell.’

  ‘She’s welcome.’

  ‘He’s so handsome! But such a pig! Julia’ll find out.’

  They were hungry and went into the house for elevenses. The kitchen was full. Josie and Glynn and the baby had ju
st arrived in their Land Rover; Ian was – had been – doing his homework on the kitchen table; Mr Fielding had come in to see Glynn, and Mrs Fielding was dispensing coffee.

  Leo, the only child of bookish parents, loved this big, noisy family kichen with all its coming and goings. Her house was silent, with only Radio Three playing quietly in the kitchen. Her parents only spoke when necessary. The Fieldings gabbled away all the time. Bill Fielding, having cut Josie off without a penny and sworn never to speak to Glynn in his life, was now, a year later, discussing with Glynn the replacing of a metal gate on the bottom meadow. Glynn was, officially, a sculptor (he had met Josie at art school), but he turned his hand to welding and carpentry to make a living, and was quite useful about the farm.

  ‘I’ve got some old gas-pipe – if the old one won’t mend, I can easily knock up a new one.’

  He lolled comfortably at the table, a large blond man from Liverpool with a conspicuously easygoing attitude to life. He didn’t appear to work very hard, not like Josie who was always on the go, decorating, doing the washing, gardening, looking after the baby and in her spare time making pottery, which was what she had trained in. Josie was dark and tense, like Ian. Leo was very susceptible to Ian, although he was usually scowling and bad-tempered. She sat down next to him, but he pulled his books away and made a great show of being disturbed in the middle of his work.

  ‘You can go and work in your father’s study,’ his mother said to him quietly, but of course he didn’t want to work that badly. Only pretend he did.

  ‘I don’t know anybody who does their homework on a Saturday morning,’ Leo said conversationally. She did hers on Sunday night. It took her no time at all.

  ‘You haven’t got exams,’ Ian said darkly. ‘Not for years.’

  ‘No, of course, I’m only little,’ Leo said scathingly.

  ‘Coffee, Leo?’ asked Mrs Fielding. She was always calm and unruffled, whatever happened around her; always willing to listen, slow to take sides. Sandy was like her mother. Not ambitious, but utterly reliable. Nice, Leo thought. She didn’t think she was as nice. Nor Julia. Sandy had an inferiority complex about being boring. Nobody wanted to be what they were. ‘Being nice doesn’t mean you’re boring,’ Leo said, to comfort. Ian was neither nice nor boring.

  ‘Who were those people riding out?’ Josie asked. ‘New people?’

  ‘Yes. We’ve got another, Dad,’ she added. ‘Julia Marsden. She brought a pony this morning. Her mother won’t have it.’

  ‘What’s wrong with it?’

  ‘Nothing. They’ve had a row.’

  ‘How many are there now?’ Josie asked. ‘You must be about full.’

  ‘Eight counting Leo. Nine with me.’

  ‘That’s a fair amount of dosh!’ Glynn said respectfully.

  ‘It’ll be a living for Sandy when she leaves school,’ her father said. ‘Livery’s the thing these days. And she can teach – get a few ponies. Better than farming – it’ll pay better.’

  ‘She’ll have to get qualified to teach,’ Leo said. ‘She’ll have to go to college.’

  ‘You don’t need to go to college to teach kids to ride!’

  ‘You do.’

  ‘Of course you do, Dad,’ Josie put in scathingly, to support Leo. ‘You’ve got to be qualified to teach, whatever it is. And certainly to teach riding.’

  ‘Gawd, all these rules! You’ve got to pass exams to show a kid how to sit with its legs either side of a pony? It’s nature, I’d have thought.’

  ‘You sound just like Grandpa!’ Josie said, laughing. ‘Where is Grandpa, by the way?’

  ‘He’s gone up to the village to get some tobacco.’

  ‘Thought it was peaceful.’

  ‘Is that one of yours – lad on a grey pony, always going flat gallop?’ Glynn asked Sandy. ‘He went past this morning.’

  ‘No. We don’t know who he is.’

  ‘He rides like he’s stuck on with glue. No saddle either. Where’s he come from?’

  ‘Up Riverhead way, we think.’

  ‘I know who he is,’ Ian said.

  ‘Who then?’ Leo pounced.

  ‘Why are you so interested?’ He grinned.

  Leo bit her tongue. ‘Just wondered,’ she tossed off. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Then, because she couldn’t help it, she added, ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘I’m not telling.’

  ‘You don’t know!’

  ‘I do. I know his name and where he lives and what he does.’

  ‘Tell us then.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You are a pig!’ Sandy shouted.

  ‘Clear your books away. I want to make pastry,’ Mrs Fielding said to Ian tartly. ‘And you can take Gertie’s lunch up when I’m ready. So don’t disappear.’

  ‘It’s not my turn! It’s Sandy’s.’

  ‘Sandy’s been working out in the yard since seven. You haven’t been out yet. Do you good.’

  ‘It’s not fair!’

  ‘Boo-hoo!’ Josie jeered. ‘Sandy works like a slave. Talk about do-it-yourself. They jolly well don’t, as far as I can see.’

  ‘That’s a fact,’ said Mrs Fielding. ‘If you’re making more money, you ought to get some help for Sandy, Bill. Now the horses are all in at nights and half the owners ask Sandy to do it, it’s going to be too much – nine of them.’

  ‘Some of the owners do it,’ Sandy said loyally. ‘It’s only Uncle Arthur who hardly ever comes, and Sneerwell is pretty hopeless, and old Stick and Ball ask me sometimes, not often. Polly and Henry never miss.’

  ‘Duncan can lend a hand,’ Bill Fielding said. ‘I’ll tell him.’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Sandy was shocked. Duncan the cowman worked all hours, and had to go home on a bicycle. He had horrid parents and had to give his mother nearly all his money.

  ‘Duncan never stops. Why should he do it and not Ian?’

  ‘A good point,’ said Mary Fielding. ‘Duncan has enough to do.’

  ‘I’m not going to muck out stupid horses!’ Ian shouted.

  ‘No, but you could hump the hay and straw down from the barns,’ his mother said. ‘That would be a help.’

  ‘Only if I can use the tractor.’

  ‘I hope you’ll manage to take Gertie’s dinner up without using the tractor! I’m getting a bit tired of your attitude, Ian.’

  Ian snatched up his books and flung out of the room.

  ‘What’s the matter with him?’ Bill Fielding asked, not having noticed.

  ‘It’s his age,’ said his mother.

  ‘I thought it was only girls they say that about,’ Josie said.

  ‘People,’ said Mary Fielding. ‘They all have their difficult times. Ian . . . Gertie . . .’

  ‘I hope you’re not including me in that generalization,’ said her husband.

  She laughed. ‘Oh, you! You’re difficult all the time. Isn’t he, Sandy?’ She put her arm round Sandy and gave her a hug. ‘We’re the only sane ones in this house, aren’t we?’

  Just as she said this there was a shrill shout from outside the house. They all looked out of the window and saw Julia sitting there on Empress of China, holding a riderless King of the Fireworks by his reins.

  ‘Oh, Lor’! What’s happened?’

  Sandy made a rush for the door.

  Julia shouted, ‘He’s come off. He’s unconscious! Can somebody go down?’

  Sandy ran to take King of the Fireworks. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Nothing really. The horse bucked. He came off on his head. He’s hopeless.’

  The men came out, shrugging into their coats. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Down by the sea-wall. Not far. On the track.’

  ‘We’ll take the Land Rover. Silly idiot!’

  ‘That horse is much too good for him,’ Julia said, slipping down from the Empress.

  King of the Fireworks, undisturbed, turned his handsome head and gave Julia an affectionate shove. She patted his neck and took him into his box to unsaddle, while Sandy and Leo took t
he Empress. Leo noted how naturally Julia took the best horse, the star.

  ‘It would be awful to lose Fireworks,’ she said to Sandy. ‘He’s so lovely. What if Sneerwell’s put off?’

  ‘He can’t be, or he won’t get his aunt’s money. I’m sure that’s a terrific incentive.’

  ‘A blow on the head might do him good.’

  When they had put the horses away they all went to meet the Land Rover as it came back up the track. Mrs Fielding came out and told them to go indoors, so they waited in the kitchen while Anthony Speerwell was unloaded. He wasn’t unconscious any longer, but he was extremely groggy and very cross. He refused the offer of a bed and staggered into Grandpa’s easy chair by the Aga.

  ‘Bally horse is useless!’ he muttered.

  Julia said in a clear voice, ‘No. It’s you that’s useless. The horse is too good for you.’

  This remark seemed to bring him round more quickly than offers of strong tea or brandy.

  ‘What do you know about it?’

  ‘Quite a lot, actually.’

  ‘Don’t start an argument, for goodness sake!’ Mary Fielding admonished her. ‘He needs to keep quiet. Just lie still, Anthony, and I’ll give your mother a ring. You’re in no fit state to drive yourself home.’

  He groaned, but did not demur. Josie and Glynn decided to depart, and Ian took the opportunity to disappear. The three girls sat at the table and Mary Fielding gave them the potatoes to peel. Grandpa came back from the village and demanded his chair.

  ‘You can’t have it, Dad. The young man’s had an accident. Sit at the table with the girls. You can read your Sporting Life and have a coffee.’

  ‘Who’s ’e then?’ Grandpa demanded fiercely of Sandy.

  Sandy explained in a soft voice and Grandpa said, ‘Who? Oh, them Speerwells. She that was Nellie Pointer before she married the builder. Should ’ave known better. Money’s not everything, I say.’

  ‘Oh, shut up, Grandpa,’ Sandy whispered. ‘Don’t be rude.’

  ‘Rude? I’m not rude!’ Grandpa trumpeted. ‘I ’aven’t said anything. Nellie Pointer’s mother went with one of them American soldiers – what did they call them? A GI. Just when the war was ending. A bomber pilot he were and Cissie – she were called Cissie, Nellie’s mother – she had a baby, that were Nellie, and folks said—’