Stables S.O.S. (12 page)

When I arrived at the yard, everything was in an uproar, as usual. The
Time Detectives
were getting in everyone's way, leaving the hose running and parking their cars in stupid places (like right across the entrance to the barn or the outdoor school), and I noticed that James was leaning over Bambi's stable door, talking to Catriona, which was odd, given their attitude to each other since they'd been out together and split up.

I parked my bike and tried to look nonchalant as I walked up to Drum's stable to get his halter. “Here's Pia,” announced James. “She'll be able to help.”

“Help with what?” I asked, sidling up beside James and peering into Bambi's stable. Our combined silhouettes blocked most of the daylight, but as I looked into the gloom it was obvious that Cat and Bambi were not happy.

“Someone is coming to see Bambi,” said Cat, her voice trembling as she threw the saddle on her skewbald mare.

At first, being a bit slow on the uptake, I didn't get the significance of what she was telling me. Coming to see Bambi? That was nice. And then I did get it.
Wham!
I got it all right. How dim was I?

“Oh no!” I cried, my hand flying to my mouth in horror. “You mean, coming to try her? To buy her?”

“That's exactly what she means!” said James grimly.

“So much for all your bright ideas!” grumbled Bambi, snaking her head up and down as Cat did up her girth. “Now I'm going to the highest bidder, shipped off to goodness-only-knows where, with some people I don't know, with ponies I'm not friends with, leaving Drummer—and it's all YOUR FAULT!”

“Mine?” I protested.

“Not just yours—everyone!” moaned Bambi—with some justification. I was relieved to hear that I wasn't held personally responsible. I usually seemed to be.
But
then
, I thought,
this
isn't about me. It's about Bambi.
What could we do now?

We heard a car door slam—Katy had arrived. As her mom drove away, Katy came over, and we told her the bad news.

“Oh no!” she cried, her eyes wide, her mouth open. “We have to do something!”

“You've all done quite enough already!” snapped Bambi as Cat did up the throatlatch to her bridle.

“Who's coming to try her?” asked James.

“Some girl who wants a second pony,” spat out Cat, her eyes blazing. “Seems she's grown out of her first pony and wants something with a bit more friskiness, a bit of a challenge, which, thanks to our plan being so successful, Bambi is now deemed to be.”

“Well that's easy to remedy,” said James casually. “I mean, Bambi just has to be the opposite of what the girl wants.”

Everyone was silent. This plan was brilliant in its simplicity. Bambi now had to be boringly quiet.

Bambi sighed. “OK, so now you want me to be a slowpoke, am I getting that right?”

“Perfectly!” I told her, and explained to the others that Bambi had it figured out.

“Well I, for one, am getting very confused!” snapped Cat.

“Isn't that your Aunt Pam's car?” asked Katy, gazing down the drive.

We all scattered, leaving Cat and Bambi to it. From the safety of the tack room we watched as Aunt Pam went into Bambi's stable to brief Cat. Then another car arrived, a huge SUV, ejecting a tall, blond woman and a girl a bit younger than us, dressed in a polo shirt and jodhpurs and looking excited.

“Bambi's just about to ruin her day!” remarked James.

“Oh, what a shame,” said Katy kindly. “What's more exciting than looking for a pony?”

“She's the enemy!” I growled, unsympathetic to anyone wanting to take Bambi away from my Drummer. I was glad he was still in the field—I could only guess his reaction to this latest development in our Bambi saga.

We sat on tack boxes in the tack room, pretending we weren't interested, yet looked intently at proceedings in the yard. Cat led Bambi out while Aunt Pam talked to the woman and her daughter. We could hear her assuring them how Bambi was anything but a novice ride. The daughter smiled at Cat. Cat scowled back at her.

“We want something Natasha can do all Pony Club activities on,” the mother said as Natasha stroked Bambi's nose, “and she needs a pony with some liveliness. Our old Sunshine is too slow for Nat these days.” Cat just stood there, holding her beloved Bambi while her pony's merits were discussed in front of her. I could only imagine how she was feeling. This was just terrible!

“Catriona will ride Bambi first,” we heard Aunt Pam say, taking Bambi's reins so Cat could get her riding hat. She walked over to us in the tack room, her face expressionless.

“Oh, Cat,” wailed Katy, “this is torture!”

“Tell me about it!” snapped Cat, jamming on her hat and retracing her steps. Mounting Bambi (Bambi stood in the yard with her head down, the very picture of a tired, dead-quiet, bored pony), Cat nudged her pony into a walk, and they made their way to the outdoor school. We all trailed behind at a respectable distance, loitering by the barn, watching from afar.

There was a holdup while Aunt Pam had to get one of the
Time
Detectives
team to move their car by the school gate, and Cat explained to Bambi's potential buyers about the TV series excavating the field, and then she was riding Bambi around the school. A very reluctant Bambi. A Bambi who looked barely able to put one hoof in front of the other.

“I wish we could hear what was being said!” I cried, anxiously biting the inside of my cheek.

“Oh I can't bear it!” squeaked Katy. “This is just too awful!”

“That Bambi is one hell of an equine actress,” observed James. She was, too.

“You don't have to hear what's being said to realize that Aunt Pam is pretty annoyed,” I said. Cat's aunt had her lips pressed together and her hands on her hips. I couldn't blame her. It must have been very confusing; one minute Bambi was all over the place like a pinball machine, the next she acted like the quietest pony on the planet.
Analyze
that
, I thought.

After just a few minutes demonstrating that Bambi wasn't going to do anything wild, Cat brought her to a halt (she was practically there anyway), dismounted, and helped Natasha mount, shortening her stirrups to the new rider's length.

“Is there anything Natasha needs to know about riding Bambi?” her mother asked. Cat shook her head sulkily.

“Only that she's not right for you!” hissed James.

“Shhhh!” said Katy.

It took a while for Natasha to actually get Bambi going. Bambi did a great impression of a nappy pony refusing to go away from the gate, and then, when she finally did, she kept cutting the corners of the school, walking in a circle rather than a large oblong. We heard Natasha's mother call out for Natasha to ride more positively, but Bambi was having none of it. She lumbered into a shuffling trot, then a reluctant canter, all the while keeping her head down and trying to slow down at every opportunity. She looked like the perfect first pony, whereas Natasha wanted a second one. When Aunt Pam had ridden her, Bambi had acted more like a fourth or fifth pony—anything but a first one. Confusing? I'd say!

When Aunt Pam and Cat hauled in some jump wings and some poles, Bambi—who usually enjoys jumping—slowed down to a stop in front of the tiniest cross pole.

Natasha's mother had seen enough. After only five minutes in the saddle, Bambi's potential new rider was dismounted, back in the SUV, and departing down the drive in a dust cloud of disappointment.

“Victory is ours!” declared Katy.

“Phew!” I sighed, relaxing a bit.

“That was the easy part,” muttered James, and we watched as Aunt Pam's head bobbed about in annoyance and frustration as she subjected Cat to an angry lecture.

“She knows something's up,” James said ruefully. “She can't possibly know what, but she's suspicious all right.”

“She can't be,” Katy said, shaking her head. “How could she possibly suspect?”

But she did.

“Aunt Pam is furious!” Cat told us once her aunt had followed Natasha and her mom's tire tracks off the yard. “Natasha's mother actually accused her of drugging Bambi, and Aunt Pam told me she knew I was influencing Bambi's behavior.”

“What?” I cried.

“What did you say?” asked Katy.

“I just denied it. I mean, how could I possibly have done it?”

“So what happens now?” asked James.

“Dunno,” said Cat miserably. “I expect more people will come and see Bambi. We can't stop everyone. Someone will like her. I mean, who wouldn't?” She stroked Bambi's ears, and Bambi nuzzled her shoulder unhappily.

I couldn't help thinking that Cat was right. Someone would like Bambi. She couldn't keep putting people off. It was only a matter of time before our best-laid plans would fail.

Our misery was interrupted by the arrival of Jessica who'd been filming in the field. She was all smoothed hair, pink pants and cream shirt, and a huge purple gemstone swung from her neck. Opening her car door, she gave us a wave, totally misinterpreting our somber mood.

“We'll be back tomorrow to take some pictures and film our final scenes, and then we'll dismantle everything, get out of your hair, and move onto the icehouse,” she said. “I know we've been in everyone's way”—she gestured to the vehicles parked in stupid places—“but tomorrow's pictures will be the most important ones. They'll show the entire foundations of the house, which have only just been cleared today. You'll be able to see the pictures in your local museum in the autumn once the show has been aired. I just want to thank you all for helping us with such an interesting episode, and I hope you'll all enjoy watching it.”

We all stared at her glumly.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” she added, turning toward us, her car keys in her hand. “We've added some more fencing around the dig to keep the ponies out—as the foundations have been completely exposed now, it's important they're not disturbed. You won't go under the ropes, will you? We've a photographer coming, too, to take the final still pictures for posterity.”

“No, don't worry, we won't go anywhere near them,” Katy assured her, and we all nodded our heads in agreement.

Satisfied, Jessica got in her car and drove off down the driveway. We all watched silently, until the car turned the corner around the laurel bushes and disappeared.

“As if we're interested,” sighed James. “Her precious bits of old stone are as safe as houses.”

Only that was where James was totally, totally wrong because they weren't. They weren't safe at all. When Bean and I arrived at the stable at the same time the next morning, we were greeted by Katy in a state of high excitement.

“What's up?” I asked as she galloped toward us.

“You don't want to know!” Katy told me grimly.
I
do, actually
, I thought,
that's why I asked…

“The ponies have all gone through the ropes,” she yelled, grabbing Bluey's halter and rushing back to the field. “And they've totally trashed the
Time
Detectives
' dig!”

“Have you no respect?” I asked Drummer angrily, fastening his halter and leading him outside the ropes.

“Something had to be done,” he replied, totally unrepentant.

“What, wanton destruction?” I asked him. He'd totally lost it this time.

“I can't understand it,” said Bean, letting Tiffany go outside the ropes and watching her canter off with her nose in the air, her mane and tail flying. “Tiffany's spent the last week going anywhere but the site, snorting and carrying on—and suddenly her life depends on not just going near it, but actually on it. It doesn't make sense.”

“It's not like Bluey, either,” Katy told us, looking at her blue roan thoughtfully. “But not because he's like Tiffany, of course. He's usually so well behaved.”

Evicting the other ponies, we mended the ropes and returned to the scene of the crime to put things back the way they were.

“You know what,” giggled Bean, “we ought to replace the ropes with POLICE, DO NOT CROSS tape!”

She didn't giggle for very long. Any ideas we'd had of removing the ponies, cleaning up, and no one noticing that anything had happened were squashed as soon as we saw the result of the ponies' night's work.

“I don't know why
Time
Detectives
bothered with a bulldozer,” Katy remarked, “when our ponies' digging efforts are nothing short of spectacular.”

“Jessica will go crazy!” I gulped, remembering her plans for pictures showing the entire foundations of the house. The most important ones, I reminded myself.

The previously orderly site was now in complete disarray. Where there had been neat, rectangular and square lines of foundations, there were now deep holes dug up, the dirt thrown around in a terrible mess. Bits of broken stone lay scattered about. Piles of earth littered the site. There was a particularly big hole right in the very center, like someone was planning a swimming pool. It had gone from organized site to bomb site overnight.

“It looks like a gang of giant moles have been partying,” said Katy grimly, her hands on her hips.

“Who's going to tell Jessica?” I asked.

“Tell her?” asked Bean, her face ashen. “My plan was to run home and let her find out for herself.”

“We can't do that!” said Katy.

I agreed. I didn't want to, but I knew we had to explain what had happened. “I'll do it,” I said, my heart sinking. “I got her here, after all.”

“Phew,” sighed Bean. “Glad you volunteered.”

“She's bound to be OK about it,” Katy said, smiling at me. “She's so nice.”

Yes
, I thought, my heart leaping in hope,
she
is
.

“I still don't understand why the ponies did it,” Katy mumbled, shaking her head.

“It doesn't really matter now, does it?” I said.

“There's not even any point in trying to fix the mess,” Bean said, looking around. “There's just too much work.”

“You never know,” Katy said hopefully. “Jessica may even think it's funny!”

There was a short silence as we all contemplated the odds on this happening. They weren't high.

I looked across the field at the guilty party. Drummer stood with Bambi, Moth, Tiffany, and Bluey, looking back at us. They didn't look particularly guilty. They looked triumphant. What were they thinking? And Bluey never did anything naughty—or Moth, for that matter. It just didn't make sense.

Leaving the scene of the crime, we went back to the stable and told James and Dee, who had just arrived, the whole story.

“Wasn't my pony!” chimed in Dee, a grim smile on her face. “I'm off the hook with that one, phew!”

“Who's going to tell Jessica?” asked James, just as I had earlier.

“I am,” I said, making a face.

“I'll come with you, if you like,” James volunteered.

My heart leaped. James could be quite the knight in shining armor when he wanted to be. Or perhaps that was just how I liked to interpret it.

“Oh, we'll all come with you,” said Katy. “We're all responsible. You didn't think we'd really let you face Jessica alone, did you, Pia?”

“I did,” mumbled Bean.

“Besides,” added Katy, “she's bound to understand how it wasn't our fault.”

When Dee told Sophie, her mom just waved her hand in the air dismissively as she led Lester out of his stable and tied him up in the yard.

“Frankly,” she said, “I don't really care. The whole
Time
Detectives
thing has been a complete waste of time; they've done nothing to help us, just made things very inconvenient at the yard with all their digging machines, camera crew, and whatever. I mean, yesterday, one of the dopey cameramen, the one with the legwear too long to be shorts and too short to be pants, asked me whether he could have some riding lessons at this riding school of ours. When I told him all the horses and ponies were privately owned, he got all huffy and virtually accused me of being a middle-class snob. And that girl with the pigtails goes about half-dressed all the time like she's in some lingerie ad. I'll be glad to see the back of that whole group. As for that Jessica, if she was any more full of herself…”

We crept away. More doom and gloom wasn't really what we'd been hoping for.

Then Cat and Dec arrived.

“No way!” Cat cried when we told her the news, her jaw dropping. “Shall we saddle up the ponies and make a quick getaway while there's still time?”

This particular plan of action hadn't occurred to me, and I thought it had potential.

Brilliant!

Unfortunately, Katy didn't agree, and plan A was very much restored.

Poo!

“It's almost ten o'clock,” Katy said, looking at her watch. “Jessica will be here any minute now. Oh, here she is!”

I gulped as Jessica's car rumbled down the drive and pulled up by the barn.

“OK,” I said, taking a deep breath, “let's do it.”

“Hello!” Jessica greeted us with a smile. She was wearing white linen pants, a blue shirt, and lots of silver bangles on both arms that jangled as she walked. The gemstone necklace of the day was big, red, and sparkly. “You all look very serious. What's up?”

I focused on her smile. Yeah, Katy was right, she'll be OK about it. A bit annoyed, but OK, I told myself.

“Er, well, funny you should ask,” I began, a nervous laugh escaping me.
How
inappropriate
, I thought, forcing my face into serious mode. “It's about the site—”

“Oh yes, here comes the photographer now,” Jessica interrupted me, fixing her hair up on top of her head with a clip. “She's early!”

“I'm afraid she may actually be too late,” James butted in.

“What do you mean?” asked Jessica, turning to look at James.

“I think you'd better come and take a look,” I suggested, walking toward the field. Everyone fell in behind me, and we all trooped out to show Jessica the results of the ponies' rampage. As we got nearer, I heard Jessica gasp.

“Wow!” James breathed, surveying the carnage for the first time. “They've done a thorough job. I'll give them that.”

“Who did this!” Jessica demanded furiously, her hands on her hips.

I jumped involuntarily and felt my stomach lurch. She so wasn't OK about it.

“The ponies,” Katy told her. “They got under the rope.”

“They didn't mean it!” said Bean hopefully.

“Didn't mean it?” cried Jessica. “DIDN'T MEAN IT? How could they not mean it? The site is wrecked. RUINED!”

So she wasn't going to see the funny side either. No surprise, really, considering there wasn't one.

We all stood there, silent. I chewed the inside of my mouth. My face felt hot—I imagined I was probably turning a nice shade of raspberry.

“All that work!” Jessica snapped. “Just one more day—that's all we needed, and then your wretched ponies could trash whatever they liked. Just
one
day!”

“It
is
their field…” began Cat, rather rashly, I thought.

Jessica turned on her. Sparks flew out of her eyes and flames gushed from her mouth (or I may have imagined that part) as she lost it. Completely. I don't remember the exact words because she said it very fast and very, very loud, but the gist of it was that we were all very silly little girls who didn't understand the importance of the work she did, and didn't realize that she'd won awards for her docudramas, and the last thing she needed was her creativity destroyed by some animals who didn't have the collective brains she had in her little finger, or something like that. Anyway, it wasn't good, that was for sure, and it provoked much flinching from her unwilling audience. Nobody said anything—not even James or Dec at being called silly little girls.

When Jessica stopped screeching I noticed the ponies had all come over to gawk—no doubt amused at the scene they had caused. Then, as Jessica drew breath for another blast, they started heckling.

“Ooooh, look at her!” I heard Bambi snigger.

“Talk about overreacting!” Drummer added.

“She's not getting it, is she?” Bluey said.

“What a screamer. Tell her to keep it down, won't you?” asked Tiffany.

Moth just stood there, her ears going back and forth.

Lining themselves up against the rope, they continued to add insult to injury.

As Jessica started her next tirade, ducking under the tape and stamping about in the wreckage of her dig, we were joined by the bemused photographer. The sight of the camera seemed to fill Jessica with further fury—just when we thought it couldn't get any worse.

“There's nothing to photograph!” she screamed. “These, these”—she waved her hand toward the ponies—“stupid horses have ruined
everything
.”

“Oh,” said the photographer, looking grave. She glanced at me, and I just shrugged my shoulders and bit my lip.

“Tell that banshee woman to take a closer look,” Drummer yelled at me.

I looked at him. Was he for real? Leaving the others, he came over and stood by my side, looking down at the mess below us.

“Tell her,” he said, nudging me with his nose.

“Tell her what?” I whispered.

“She's looking in the wrong place,” I heard Bambi say.

“That's right—tell her to take a closer look at that big hole we've made,” ordered Drummer. “The really
big
one,” he added.

I didn't want to. I couldn't see any way any good could come of it, and I could imagine Jessica hitting someone if I suggested what Drummer wanted me to suggest. And that someone was likely to be me.

Drummer wasn't going to let it go. He nudged me forward and repeated the order.

“Tell her to look in the big hole.
Tell
her!
”

James gave me a funny look. He could tell Drummer was saying something.

I swallowed. Twice. Drummer knew something. This was either the biggest practical joke my pony had ever thought up, or…

“Er, Jessica,” I began, my voice croaking in fear. “Jessica!”

“WHAT!” Oh poo.

“I think you need to take a look…”

“A GOOD look,” Drummer interrupted me.

“Take a good look in the big hole in the middle.”

There. Done. I braced myself. I was soooo dead.

Breathing hard, Jessica narrowed her eyes at me with absolute hatred and made like she was sucking a lemon. She didn't move. She didn't look in the big hole.

“I'll look,” said James, ducking under the rope, jumping into the hole and peering downward.

Nobody said anything. At least Jessica had stopped yelling.

“Found it yet?” asked Bambi. All the ponies leaned against the rope and gazed down intently at James. And so did everyone else. I had a sudden vision of buried treasure, a pirate's chest overflowing with gold coins and treasures. Oh, if only…

“Well?” Jessica asked, folding her arms and looking militant.

“Er, well, I can't see anything, just a few bits of broken tiles…It looks like someone's old bathroom in here,” James said, squatting down and poking the soil with his hands.

“WHAT?” yelled Jessica, leaping over the mounds of earth to kneel down beside James with a sudden and urgent interest.

“Oh my God!!!” she exclaimed, scrabbling away at the dirt with her bare hands as though her life depended on it. “Oh my…!”

“At last!” Drummer said. “I thought she'd never get there.”

“Come on,” said Bambi, turning to go, “our work here is done.”

“Hey!” I said, grabbing Drummer's mane behind his ears and anchoring him to the spot. “Don't just hit-and-run like that. What's going on?”

“Ouch, let go!” Drummer ordered me, shaking his head.

“Not likely!” I told him. “Spill the beans!”