Star Dancer (7 page)

She won her next class, too. By then, Dancer was steaming in the sun. ‘Walk him cool, Ger,’ Suzanne said, ‘while I go to the ladies’.’

Ger took Dancer’s saddle off and rubbed his hot back, then began walking him. He remembered how good and cold the ice cream was. Would Dancer enjoy an ice cream as a treat for winning?

Ger led the horse over to the booth and bought him a cone. Dancer tested it with his muzzle, then ate it down in two bites. The girl in the booth laughed and so did Ger. ‘Here, give him another one,’ said the girl.

Star Dancer ate six ice cream cones. It used up all the money Ger had in his pocket, but he didn’t mind. It was such fun to watch the way Dancer’s long, thick pink tongue slurped up the ice creams.

When his money was gone, Ger led Dancer back to the horse box. Anne and Suzanne were already there. ‘We’re going to watch the last class, then load up and go home,’ Anne said. ‘Is Dancer cooled off, Ger?’

Ger patted the gleaming brown neck. ‘Sure is. I’ve been looking after him really well.’ He winked at Star Dancer as if the ice cream was a secret between them.

Suzanne was in great form. The gymkhana had been a success. They had entered four classes and won three, and the summer day was glorious. She began chattering happily about the junior one-day event in August, and seemed to feel certain they would do well then too.

‘She’s certainly gained a lot of confidence,’ Anne Fitzpatrick remarked to Ger.

Ger grinned. He knew another secret. Suzanne believed in magic.

It was hard to see the day come to an end, but they had to load the horses and go home. Suzanne sat between Anne and Ger as they drove, still making plans for the future. Anne listened, nodding from time to time, driving with one hand on the wheel and her other arm resting on the open truck window. Suddenly she braked and got out. She ran back to the box and looked in, then returned with a frown. ‘Dancer’s pawing a lot and seems distressed, Suzanne. I think he’s sick.’

Suzanne gasped. ‘What’ll we do?’

‘We don’t have too far to go to get to the stables,’ Anne said, ‘so I think we’ll drive on and ring the vet from there. I don’t want to unload a sick horse on the road if I can help it.’

She drove fast and skilfully. As soon as they got to the stables, Brendan helped them take the horses out of the truck. Dancer was obviously in pain. He kept pawing and trying to look around at his belly.

‘Colic,’ Anne said. She looked very worried.

‘What’s colic?’ Ger wanted to know.

‘Bellyache, but in horses it can be fatal. They look big and strong but their stomachs are easily upset. And they can’t vomit. So if a horse eats something that doesn’t agree with him, like spoiled feed, he can get sick and die.’

‘But he didn’t have any spoiled feed! He just had his own hay in his hay net we brought from here. And buckets of water, of course, and…’ Ger paused. ‘And some ice cream,’ he suddenly remembered.

Anne gave him a keen look. ‘Ice cream? Why did he have ice cream?’

‘He was hot. And he liked it!’

Anne didn’t ask who had given him the ice cream. Instead she said, ‘The shock of cold ice cream given to a hot horse could be enough to cause colic. It was a very stupid thing to do.’

‘It was indeed,’ agreed Brendan Walsh.

Suzanne was staring at Ger.

He felt awful. He stood watching as Suzanne began walking Dancer up and down. She had to keep him moving until the vet came.

‘If he lies down he could rupture his gut and die,’ Brendan Walsh explained.

Some of the other people who kept horses at the stables had gathered around and were offering advice or sympathy. Everyone wanted to help. They were like one big family, each of them as concerned about the sick horse as if he belonged to them.

Suzanne kept Dancer walking. She wouldn’t let anyone else walk him, or even touch him. Talking to him all the time in a soft, encouraging voice, she tried to keep him from concentrating on his
pain.

‘You’re going to be fine, Dancer,’ she told him over and over again. ‘Just grand. You’ll see. The vet will be here any minute. We won’t let anything happen to you. Oh Dancer, please keep walking! The pain will stop soon, the vet will make it stop. Walk with me, Dancer, walk with me, listen to me, don’t think about the pain.’

‘Pain causes shock and shock can kill a horse,’ Anne Fitzpatrick had said.

Suzanne felt as if there was something wrong with her own stomach, a huge cold stone sitting there. She had never been so scared. The nightmare was never as bad as this. She wasn’t aware of the people watching her or of time passing. There was nothing left in the world but herself and Dancer, walking. Suffering.

Ger couldn’t stand it. He ran down to the road to watch for the vet’s van, and even climbed up on the fence so he would spot it sooner.

Then he waited. They all waited. There was nothing else to do.

IT SEEMED TO TAKE FOREVER
, but the vet finally arrived. He swung through the gate without slowing down and drove up to the stableyard with Ger pounding along behind him on foot.

By the time Ger got to the yard, the vet was with Suzanne and Dancer. ‘Hold your horse still,’ he was telling Suzanne. She watched with huge, frightened eyes as the vet bent over and pressed his ear to Dancer’s side. He listened intently, then shook his head. ‘No gut action, no noises,’ he reported. ‘Must be really blocked up in there.’

Ger stood at a distance, watching and trying to hear what was said. He didn’t dare go any closer. This was his fault. He wished he was dead.

‘Walk him back and forth for me,’ the vet instructed. Suzanne obeyed. Dancer made a sound like a groan of pain.

‘Can’t you give him something?’ Suzanne pleaded. ‘He hurts.’

‘I know. We’ll give him a painkiller, but first I need to know what caused this, if possible.’

Suzanne swallowed hard. ‘I think he ate cold ice cream. When he was still warm from being ridden at the gymkhana.’

‘Have you lost the run of yourself entirely, Suzanne O’Gorman? I thought you knew better than that,’ said the vet.

She didn’t reply. She just watched as he prepared a shot of painkiller for Dancer. Then he asked for a bucket of warm water. He took some rubber tubing from his van and made an oily solution to be forced into the horse to ease his stomach and make
his bowels work. When that was done he had Suzanne start walking Dancer again while he talked for a while to Anne and Brendan.

No one paid any attention to Ger, for which he was thankful. He hovered in the background, watching, wanting to run away but unable to leave.

Leading her sick horse, Suzanne made a turn and saw him. Their eyes met. Ger looked stricken. On Suzanne’s face he saw her silent accusation.

For the first time in years, Ger felt his eyes burning. He couldn’t believe it. He never cried. He was Ger Casey. He knuckled his eyes with an angry fist.

At that moment, Dancer began to paw the ground frantically and then folded his forelegs and started to lie down. Suzanne gave a shriek. ‘Help us!’

Without hesitation, Ger ran forward. The horse must not lie down. He might never get up again. Suzanne was tugging desperately at his headcollar, but her small strength was not enough.

Ger dropped his shoulder and threw his whole weight against Dancer’s side. The sudden attack distracted the horse. Instead of trying to lie down, he staggered and fought to keep his balance.

‘Get him walking again now!’ Ger shouted at Suzanne.

Dancer wobbled dangerously. For a moment it looked as if he might fall. Ger wrapped his arms as far around the horse’s middle as he could, steadying him.

He heard one of the adults shouting, ‘He’s going to fall on that lad!’ But he didn’t let go. He supported Dancer until Suzanne got the horse walking forward again, unsteady, but still on his feet.

By then Brendan and Anne and several others had reached Suzanne and Dancer and were helping to keep the horse walking. Ger stepped back into the shadows of the stable. There was nothing more he could do.

Then Star Dancer lifted his tail and passed a great explosion of gas and stinking brown goo. Once Ger would have laughed and made jokes. But today it wasn’t funny. It was a good sign, he knew. The blockage in the horse’s belly was relieved and he would begin to get better.

Unnoticed, Ger left the stables. He trudged off down the laneway, occasionally stopping to look back. But he kept on going, with his head down and his fists plunged deep in his pockets.

After treating Dancer, the vet had gone back to his surgery. He had left instructions to ring him if the horse’s condition changed. ‘I think we should ring him now and tell him Dancer’s better,’ Brendan decided. ‘Suzanne, would you like to do that?’

The girl shook her head. ‘I want to stay with him. You ring, Mr Walsh.’

Brendan came back with instructions from the vet. ‘He says you can let him rest in his loose box now. He’ll be sore and tired, but he should be all right. I’ll stay here in the stables tonight and keep an eye on him, I can sleep in the tackroom.’

‘I want to stay too!’ Suzanne insisted.

Anne told her, ‘That’s not necessary, I’m sure. Brendan will look after Dancer all right.’

‘I know, but
I
want to stay.’ Suzanne set her jaw. There were sparks in her eyes.

‘What is it, Suzanne? Do you feel guilty about having given
him all that ice cream when he was hot?’

Suzanne stiffened. ‘But I didn’t …’ Then she caught herself. Should she tell Anne it was Ger’s fault? She was angry with Ger, but he had saved Dancer at great risk to himself. And he hadn’t meant to hurt the horse in the first place, Suzanne was sure of that.

She hadn’t thought about Ger in a while. Now she looked around for him, but he wasn’t there. ‘I just want to be with Dancer,’ she said in a low voice to Anne.

The instructor smiled. ‘I understand. Ring home and get your mother’s permission. Or better still, walk on home, have some dinner and get your sleeping bag and come back. I’m sure Brendan will let you have his mattress in the tackroom, and he can sleep in one of the empty boxes near Dancer’s. Okay?’

Suzanne smiled with relief. ‘Okay,’ she agreed.

Then she went looking for Ger. But she couldn’t find him anywhere. He wasn’t in the indoor school, where several people were riding their horses under the lights as night at last drew in. Nor was he in the hay barn or any of the other places he might usually be. When she asked Brendan, the stable manager did not know where Ger was either.

‘Maybe he went home,’ Brendan said. ‘But that’s not like him, to leave without telling me. And without finishing his work either,’ he added, beginning to sound annoyed. ‘There are still things to be done around here and I was counting on him.’

Suzanne thought she knew why Ger had left. He felt bad about what had happened. She wished he were here so she could tell him she wasn’t angry and that Dancer was going to be all right.

I’ll tell him tomorrow, she promised herself.

She spent a restless night on the narrow bed in the tackroom.
Several times she got up and, taking a torch, went to Dancer’s loose box. Each time the light woke the horse, who was sleeping standing up as many horses do. He would blink sleepily at the light and come over to the door to have his nose rubbed. After this happened several times, Brendan came out of the loose box he was sleeping in and told Suzanne gently, ‘You’re being more bother to him than help, Suzanne. Stay in your bed now and let him rest. I’ll hear if he so much as takes a breath wrong and I’ll call you.’

In the morning, Suzanne’s parents came to the stables to see how Dancer was. Mr O’Gorman was dressed for work, and was soon back in his car and driving in to the city. But Suzanne’s mother lingered in the stables awhile, looking into the boxes at the various horses and ponies. There was a wistful expression on her face.

‘You should come down and ride with your daughter sometimes,’ Anne Fitzpatrick suggested. ‘I’m sure we could find a horse you’d enjoy.’

Suzanne’s mother shook her head. ‘I don’t ride any more,’ she said sharply. She turned and left the stables. Over her shoulder she called back, ‘Come up to the house now, Suzanne, and eat something and change your clothes.’

Suzanne went home for a while to please her mother, but she was soon back at the stables. She could not ride Dancer for several days, until the vet examined him again and pronounced him well. But she wanted to be with him.

Ger did not show up that day. Brendan was really annoyed. ‘The lad’s left me short-handed,’ he complained.

When she went home for her lunch Suzanne asked her mother if she could help Mr Walsh by grooming some of the horses. Mrs
O’Gorman tightened her lips. ‘You know I don’t like you working around strange horses, Suzanne. We know Dancer’s gentle, but we can’t be sure of the others.’

For once, Suzanne lost patience with her mother. ‘Mr Walsh wouldn’t let me groom a horse that couldn’t be trusted! You can’t keep me wrapped in cotton wool all the time.’

She ran out of the room. She ran all the way to the stables. Opening the door to Dancer’s box, she went inside and put her arms around his neck. She whispered to him so no one else could hear, ‘I have to be let grow up, Dancer. Mum wants to keep me a baby. But I’m not a baby. I’m not! She just doesn’t understand.’

Dancer understood. Dancer always understood.

Ger didn’t come to the stables the next day, either. By now, Brendan Walsh was angry. ‘I’ll fire that little gurrier when I see him,’ he threatened. ‘If he’s sick, he could at least have rung me to let me know.’

Suzanne was worried about Ger. ‘Why don’t you ring him, Mr Walsh?’

‘I don’t have his phone number. I asked him to write it in the book in the tackroom, but when I went to look for it yesterday, there was no number there. Irresponsible, that’s what he is. Completely irresponsible. I should’ve known it from the first, Suzanne. I’d say we’re well rid of him.’

But Suzanne knew Ger wasn’t irresponsible. He had worked harder than anyone to learn about horses and take good care of them, and until Dancer got colic he had never missed a day. No one could have been a better worker.

Something was very wrong.

‘I should go to him and tell him I don’t blame him,’ Suzanne
told Dancer. ‘But how can I find him? I looked in the telephone book, but there are so many Caseys. And I don’t even know the name of the road he lives on. Oh Dancer, why didn’t I find out more about him?’

But Ger hadn’t told anyone very much about himself. At least, not very much of the truth.

Suzanne grew increasingly more worried.

She was right to worry. Ger was having problems of his own.

On the day Dancer got colic, Ger reached home late. He had missed the last bus. To get into town and across Dublin to the flat, he used a combination of walking and hitching. When he arrived home he was exhausted, as well as miserably unhappy. Not only had he nearly killed Dancer, but he felt certain he would never be welcome at the stables again.

‘I don’t belong there,’ he tried to tell himself. ‘I was a right eejit to think I could.’

But in his heart he knew there was no other place he wanted to be.

For once his mother was sober, and waiting up for him. She asked a lot of questions about where he’d been.

‘I don’t want to see you turning out like Donal, out ‘till all hours and sometimes not coming home at all,’ she said. ‘If that goes on you’ll join your da inside someday. God between us and all harm, I try to do me best for you lads, but you just …’

‘I’ve been working, Mam,’ Ger interrupted. ‘I have a job. I mean … I had a job. Until today. I don’t think they want me any more now.’

‘A job? You?’ Mrs Casey looked at her youngest son in astonishment. ‘What kind of a job?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ Ger gave a weary sigh and dug into his pocket, intending to give his mother the money there. Then he remembered he had used it to buy ice cream for Dancer. But the rest of his earnings, most of it, was safely hidden away in an envelope under his mattress. He’d thought about giving it to his mother to buy groceries, then decided against it. She might spend it on drink.

Now he needed to show her the money to prove he’d had a job. He got the envelope and brought it to her, though he only wanted to crawl into bed and pull the covers over his head.

Mrs Casey took the notes out of the envelope and counted them. Then she looked suspiciously at Ger. ‘Did you nick these?’

‘No!’ he exploded. ‘Didn’t I tell you I had a job?’

‘How could a young one your age earn this much money honestly?’

Ger gave his mother a bitter look. ‘I had friends. Friends who wanted to help me. And I did earn it honestly, every pound. That’s where I’ve been every day, working. Hard work it was too, I’ll tell you.’

‘Doing what?’ She still didn’t believe him, he could tell.

‘Mucking out stables,’ Ger replied. ‘Do you know what that’s like? You clean out loose boxes and carry baskets full of wet, heavy horse dung. You curry horses and take them buckets full of clean water and you sweep the yard and clean the saddles and … aww, what’s the use. It’s over now. I lost the job.’ Ger’s shoulders sagged with weariness. ‘I’m going to bed,’ he said, leaving his mother staring after him with the money still in her hand.

‘Ger?’ she called. ‘Ger?’

But he didn’t answer. He crawled into his bed and the world
went away.

Sometime later Donal came home, and Mrs Casey showed him the money. ‘Ger says he had a job at some sort of farm or something,’ she said.

Donal smiled with only one side of his mouth. ‘And you believed him? He robbed it, more like. Sneaky kid. Here, give us some, I’ll be needing some smokes tomorrow.’

By the time Ger dragged himself out of bed the next morning his money was gone. Neither Donal nor his mother was in the flat.

‘Damn it!’ he exclaimed. ‘I should never’ve told her about the money!’

But it was too late.

It was too late for everything. The silence in the flat was deafening. Ger made himself a cup of tea and ate a slice of bread – there was no jam – then went outside and sat on the step with his head in his hands, trying not to think about anything.

‘Hey, Ger!’

It was Anto’s voice. Ger looked up. Anto, Danny and Rags were coming towards him. Rags was carrying a newspaper.

‘Hey, Ger!’ he called. ‘Did you know you’re famous?’