Ponies at Owls' Wood Page 3

  Then Pete had arrived. Jess remembered the first time Cyn had brought him to the farm to meet them. She’d just had her eighth birthday, and her mother had been gone nearly two years. It had been wintertime and the sitting room in the old farmhouse had looked cosy with a log fire blazing. Gran had been in the kitchen cooking dinner.

  ‘Nice place you’ve got here,’ he’d said. ‘Must be worth a bit.’ He had wandered around the room picking up Gran’s china ornaments and bits of silver, turning some upside down and holding others up to the light, as if he was assessing their value. ‘Hallmarked eh? Very pretty.’ And later he’d let smoke from his cigarettes drift all over the dining room, even though Gran hadn’t finished eating, and he’d made sure Cyn lit up too, pushing her to keep him company.

  With a strong sense of foreboding, Jess had taken herself outside. She’d sensed that Gran too, had shared her alarm at the way Cyn appeared to hang on Pete’s every word. In no time at all Pete had moved in with them and things had been going downhill ever since, with Gran deciding to move out of the farmhouse and into a caravan in the yard.

  Now Jess got herself some tea and made one for her Auntie Cyn. She could tell what the cause of her aunt’s headache must have been as she moved the empty gin bottle from the corner of the kitchen unit and added it to the bag of bottles by the back door. She took the tea upstairs.

  Her aunt was propped up on her bed, gazing at her eyes in a make-up mirror.

  ‘My bags are getting worse,’ she said as Jess came in, ‘I’ll have to get something to hide them. Hello Jess love, how are you today?’

  ‘Fine,’ said Jess.

  Cyn flinched as she changed position on the bed. She still had her nightie on over a pair of jeans and her hair was badly in need of a sort out. She coughed and swore, then smiled warmly at her niece.

  ‘I want you to do an errand for me Jess love. Can you get me a sliced loaf for Pete’s tea, and if I give you a note you might get me some ciggies?’

  ‘I can’t. They won’t give me any even with a note. And they’ve shut the shop in Longthorpe. You must have forgotten. There’s only West Brook left with a shop and they don’t even know me. They’ll never give me ciggies.’

  Cyn groaned. She took a couple of pills from the bedside table and swallowed them without water. Jess could never understand how she made the pills go down that way.

  ‘Can’t Pete go?’ she asked, ‘he could get something for our tea. He never helps.’

  Cyn ignored this.

  ‘You could go to West Brook. If you took the bike like you did yesterday, you could get the bread and maybe some fish fingers or something?’

  ‘What about his precious whisky? I bet he has time to go and get that.’

  ‘He says he’s broke,’ said Cyn, ‘and anyway, we’re going to stop drinking. But he says he’s got a good business opportunity and things are going to get better.’

  Jess went off to her room. She’d been about to say that going to West Brook was tiring whether by bike or even half way in the middle of the night leading a frightened pony, but stopped herself in time. She knew what Pete’s business opportunity was, but was certain that her Auntie Cyn didn’t. Anyway, whatever else, her aunt wasn’t cruel. She’d always been kind to Jess since she’d lost her mum, and the only mystery was, what did she see in Pete?

  Jess sat on her bed, the fear she’d felt earlier in the morning returning to her three times as powerfully. She felt very alone and wished she had a friend she could talk to. Pete might not have missed the pony this time but there were the others to think about. Jess wondered whether the girl with the field might help her, although she had no idea what she was like. Perhaps she should try and explain about the skewbald, and ask for help.

  ‘OK,’ she called to her aunt, ‘I’ll go.’

  ‘Get some money from my purse, if Pete’s left any.’

  Cyn appeared on the landing. She looks like a scarecrow, thought Jess.

  ‘And ask Gran if she wants anything while you’re going. Tell her I’ll call on her later.’

  Jess went out and across the yard to see her grandmother. On the way, she thought again about the girl with the pony in the field. Perhaps it was only fair that she should explain about the skewbald she’d put there. And having done that, go on and tell her about the rest? After all, she was hoping to save more of them. She’d seen the girl a few times riding up the Steeple Chase but she’d never seen her come all the way to the farm until yesterday, when she’d had a boy with her and they’d both left quickly after a few words from Pete. But Jess knew she had to do something, and could only hope that the girl would be willing to help her.

  Although it was a bright morning, the lights were on in the almost new and rather flashy caravan across the yard. As always, Jess was glad to see her grandmother Grace, sitting where she always sat, at the far end by the window, overlooking the fields at the back. A packet of biscuits was on the table next to her and a large cat was sitting on her knee.

  ‘Come and congratulate Horatio,’ cried the old lady, as Jess went over to give her a kiss. ‘He’s caught two huge rats!’ The cat purred loudly as Jess stroked his back.

  ‘He’s a lot more use than those dogs of Pete’s. Will you have a biscuit?’

  ‘No thanks. I’ve come to see if you want any shopping. I’m going down to West Brook for Cyn. She’s got a headache.’

  ‘She’ll have a headache as long as she lets that man live with her,’ said Grace. ‘One of these days he’ll be hauled off and then I’ll move back into the house and we’ll all be able to live in peace.’ She looked at Jess, ‘Oops, sorry love, I forget that I shouldn’t say these things to you.’

  ‘Don’t worry Gran,’ said Jess. ‘I wish they’d haul him off too.’

  ‘You should be out enjoying your holidays,’ said Grace, ‘not worrying about your aunt’s problems. Aren’t any of your school friends around this week for you to meet up with?’

  ‘No,’ said Jess, ‘Lydia came once last summer but Pete had a fight with Cyn while she was here and I don’t think she wants to come again.’

  ‘Well,’ said Grace. ‘At least Cyn’s had the sense not to marry him. One day he’ll be gone, you wait and see.’

  ‘I tell you what,’ her gran was saying now, ‘if they’ve got any nice-looking cakes down in West Brook you could get me one, or more if there’s enough money. I think coffee ones are my favourite at the moment but get whatever you can. Here’s a fiver, and you make sure you buy some sweets for yourself. If Cyn asks for cigarettes tell her they’re bad for her. She shouldn’t be smoking all the time.’

  ‘I’ve already said I can’t get them,’ Jess said.

  Jess went off to collect her bike, aware that her gran had been giving her anxious glances as she left the caravan. In the end, the list Cyn had made was quite long, and she’d have a struggle carrying everything back up the hill on her bike. But before she could set off, Pete’s voice called to her from under the bonnet of the van.

  ‘Where are you off to? And what about the chickens? I said I wanted those chickens cleaned out.’

  ‘Cyn wants me to go to the shop,’ Jess replied.

  ‘Chickens first!’ said Pete. ‘Get the eggs and give the run a good sweep out. And I want new straw in the nesting boxes. You can go to the shop later.’

  Jess sighed, but she didn’t dare argue. She propped her bike against the wall and went to fetch a stiff brush from the outhouse. The chicken run was a walk-in arrangement but not high enough for Pete to stand up inside. This was his excuse for making Jess do the work, and she was sure he’d built it too small on purpose. She liked the chickens though. They made peaceful clucking sounds and pecked around the place in a friendly way. They liked Jess, too, as she often gave them their food.

  While she worked, Jess thought anxiously about the poor ponies down in the shed. She had to do something for them, and as soon as possible. Yet she was so afraid that anyone she asked for help would call the police. Pete could be so co
nvincing when he denied that he had any ponies, and the two dogs were an additional argument in his favour. On the one occasion that two police officers had come, they hadn’t even got out of their car, preferring to believe Pete and his dogs rather than the village kids who’d been the cause of the original television report.

  By the time Jess had finished with the chickens and made more tea for Cyn it was afternoon, and she had reached a decision. She would look out for the girl on her way to West Brook, and if she wasn’t there she would leave her a note. Jess wasn’t sure whether she hoped to meet the girl or not. She felt nervous about it, but she still went quickly up to her room and scribbled something out, finally setting off with a goodbye call to her aunt.

  It was gone 3 o’clock by the time she reached Hannah’s field and there was no one there, other than the two ponies grazing companionably together under the trees. Jess had a difficult job getting her note to stay propped behind Hannah’s notice, which was where she’d planned to leave it. It kept slipping down the back of the gate. In the end, she trusted it to luck. Even if it slid down again after she’d gone, it should be visible on the grass.

  She couldn’t leave the field without saying hello to the hairy cob, who came over to the gate to greet her. Giving him a gentle rub under his forelock, she remembered their 2 mile walk together in the dark.

  ‘At least I got you here safely,’ she told the pony, ‘I wish I could have brought more of your friends, but you were enough to manage on my own, and you looked the most miserable. But I see that someone’s put ointment on your sore neck, so I think that girl must be OK.’

  Glad that the cob at least was happier, Jess cycled off down the hill towards the village, enjoying a bit of a breeze as it ruffled through her short hair and cooled her neck and shoulders. Having delivered her note, she felt that she was now in the hands of fate and, as she gave herself up to this idea, she felt a little better.

  5

  Pete

  Hannah woke early the next morning with the sun coming in through her open curtains. The Steeple Chase and her fears about going there had been at the back of her mind all night. She knew that Tom wanted her to wait until he could go with her, but the desire to take action was very powerful and patience wasn’t her strong point.

  She decided to go and check Polly and Jack, and reach a decision once she got to the field. At 8 o’clock on such a sunny morning it was easier to feel brave, and whilst she felt a bit guilty about Tom, she didn’t want to hang about for twenty-four hours if there really were horses in trouble nearby. The temptation to go it alone became stronger as she cycled up the hill.

  She’d start by taking Polly for a ride though, she decided. Then bike up towards High Farm to have another look, knowing that she could always turn back. She’d taken the precaution of bringing some crisps and biscuits to the field with her, and had told Talia that she wouldn’t be home till much later.

  For a horrible moment it had seemed as if Talia might be feeling bored enough to want to come with her, but luckily one of her mates texted just in time and she’d gone off to see her instead. The last thing Hannah wanted was her big sister finding out about Jack.

  It was going to be a warm day, and Hannah was thankful that the summer holidays stretched for several weeks ahead, leaving her free to be with Polly. And Jack, she realised, for as long as he was there.

  When Hannah got there Tom and his bike were nowhere to be seen, even though it was still early, and Hannah wasn’t sure whether she felt relieved or disappointed. She guessed he’d gone off with his mum already.

  She opened the gate and patted Jack, who came over to greet her. She fetched some ointment from the shed and managed to smear a little more onto his neck. He was already much more relaxed with her. Then she caught Polly and tacked her up.

  ‘I’ll groom you later,’ Hannah told her, checking only that there was no mud under the girth line. ‘But I want to get out for a canter before the dew dries and the ground gets too hard.’ Polly looked as though she understood.

  She led her pony to the gate, thinking that it might be fun to go down towards her own village a little way, and come back round the farm tracks in a circle. She wondered how Polly and Jack had got on together, and was just embarking on a fantasy about Jack telling Polly all about his life and how he’d come to be there, when she caught sight of a scrap of paper stuffed down the back of her painted notice. She picked it up, mounted Polly, and set off down the road at a brisk walk.

  Polly knew the way so Hannah let her walk on while she opened the note and read the few words written there:

  My name is Jess. Thank you for looking after the coloured pony. I don’t know his name. Would you be able to help me with a problem? If so, please text and come to Owls’ Wood as soon as possible.

  There was a phone number in brackets.

  Hannah read the note two or three times. Who was this Jess, and why had she chosen to put Jack in with Polly without even asking? Hannah had no idea, and it made her feel funny to think that somebody knew who she was and trusted her enough to leave a note asking for help. She couldn’t guess at Jess’s age from the writing, except that it wasn’t very good. But then, nor was hers, as a number of her teachers had pointed out.

  Realising that Polly was beginning to sidle over towards a particularly delicious-looking hawthorn hedge, Hannah picked up her reins and began to pay attention to her riding. She decided to cut short her route and make up her mind about Owls’ Wood as she rode.

  She cantered Polly twice round a big field, hoping some of her weight would go, then turned along a bridle path that she knew would bring her in a full circle back out onto the lane. No matter how she tried to concentrate on Polly, her thoughts kept returning to the note.

  ‘What would you do Polls?’ she asked her pony, running her hands through Polly’s thick mane as she slowed her pace and turned onto the final track towards home. Polly tossed her head and gave a little buck. Hannah decided to take this as reassurance. ‘You think I should go, don’t you? There may be ponies in trouble and I have to be brave and think about them, and not me.’ It was just that there was a big difference between her own plan to take a quiet look at the back of the farm when she could whizz home if need be, and this direct invitation to help from someone she’d never met.

  As she and Polly came to the end of the track they were both surprised to find their way blocked by a blue car parked across the junction. Polly took a step back and gave a snort. The car had pulled in from the road, and Hannah, whilst wondering how they were going to get by since it had taken up most of the road, recognised the woman sitting in the driver’s seat from their collision outside the shop. The woman was just putting away a mobile phone.

  ‘Good morning!’ The woman called out but showed no sign of recognising Hannah.

  ‘Is that your pony?’ she asked.

  Hannah replied that it was, and asked if the woman might move her car. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t get past,’ she explained.

  ‘In a minute. Are you always in such a hurry?’ The woman smiled at her. She was wearing black Lycra shorts today with a quieter sort of top, but she still looked lumpy and her hair, which was tied up in a ponytail, was greasy and thin.

  ‘You look like someone who might know what’s what locally,’ the woman said. ‘My name’s Mrs Jones, and I run a shelter for horses and ponies. I’ve got some vacancies at the moment so I thought I’d ask around and see if anyone’s got a problem horse or one that’s too old to ride any more. I specialise in children’s ponies, as a matter of fact, and I can often find new, loving homes for them. I’m a registered charity and I’m always willing to help. I’ve read that some people in these straitened times are just abandoning their animals because they can’t afford to feed them, and I hate to think of that.’

  In fact, Hannah had heard of people leaving horses in fields because they couldn’t afford to keep them too, but she’d never thought it would happen near her. She looked at Mrs Jones and wondered wheth
er she could be quite so bad as she’d imagined. It was certainly very kind of her to try and help, although Hannah had never known an animal shelter that had to go out looking for horses. She’d thought they were always full. It crossed her mind to mention High Farm, but she stopped herself because she didn’t really know that there were any horses there, and telling grownups anything could lead to trouble, in her experience.

  ‘I’ll keep an eye out,’ she promised, and as the woman moved her car, Hannah rode off with a goodbye wave. It’s funny she didn’t give me a phone number or website, she thought, and I didn’t think to ask.

  It was only half-past ten when Hannah got back to her field. She found herself wishing that Tom hadn’t had to go off with his mum today, as she looked yet again at Jess’s note.

  OK. I’ll go, she decided.

  She took Polly back into the field and rubbed her down with cool water.

  ‘Wish me luck,’ she said. She got her mobile and sent a text to the number on the note:

  On my way.

  Hannah picked up her bike from the verge and set off. She cycled the same way that she’d ridden the day before, except that this time she turned off to the left shortly before the brow of the hill. She could see the van parked in the yard but everything around the farm appeared quiet. The path to the woods dropped down steeply after the first few metres, and the mid-summer grass was high. She was soon out of sight of any horrible men or dogs.

  Brambles were beginning to spread their thorns across the path and so she left her bike against a tree before continuing on foot. Owls’ Wood appeared at the bottom of the slope and, even in the late morning sun, the trees looked dark and spooky. Hannah could see a rough path between them, carpeted by pine needles and edged with clumps of bracken.