The Week at Mon Repose (7 page)

 

 

Allie seemed to have barely closed her eyes when she was being shaken awake. She blinked her eyes open and looked at Jenny.

“Whatsa'matter?” she asked, realizing the light was switched on again.

“It's five o'clock and time we were leaving,” Jenny whispered.

Allie yawned and sat up. “It doesn't feel like morning,” she objected. “Sure the clock is right?”

“Do up your shoes. We've got to check out if Ahmed is really all right.”

Allie remembered the dreadful events of last night and woke up properly. She slid out of bed and into her shoes, tying them securely.

“And if he is all right, we head off to the Pound to liberate Caliph.” Marilyn was already waiting at the door, plastic bag in her hand. She grinned. “It sure saves time going to bed fully dressed. We should do it more often.”

Jenny turned off the light. They tiptoed along the dark passage, down the steps, and along to the end door. Jenny scratched at it. Ahmed opened it and gave his flashing white smile.

He was dressed in the plaid shirt and jeans and looked perfectly ordinary, normal and real. He had the saddle and reins slung over one shoulder. Jenny led the way out through the laundry and into the backyard.

It was very dark with just a faint pink lightening the edge of the horizon. They walked single file down behind the garages and into the back road. Ahmed gestured to four shadowy humps waiting for them.

“No one around to see the camels. We can make good time on them across to the Pound.”

“Suppose it is going to be faster than walking,” Jenny admitted. She sighed as she made herself comfortable on the camel. “I think I prefer riding horses.”

“Wonderful idea,” Marilyn said, as she scrambled on to the flat, wooden platform on the camel. “It's a fair hike, and the earlier we get there, the safer it will be.”

“The only thing is you will have to walk back,” Ahmed apologized as he fastened the saddle to his camel. “We will be going in different directions, and I can only control them when I am with them.”

“Unimportant,” Allie said. “There's no hassle about a one-way walk.”

“I'm so glad you are all right again,” Allie said, climbing on to her camel. “We were scared you had miscalculated the time you could last here.”

“Your Mr. Masterton did a bad thing,” Ahmed explained. He clicked his fingers and the camels lurched to their feet and started walking down the dark back road. “He drained the energy from me instead of using his own to bring through the rolls of silk. It has weakened my ability to last the three days.”

“Are you going to be all right now?” Jenny asked.

“Secured here until the end of this day,” Ahmed said.

“He's not our Mr. Masterton,” Allie said. “We think he's a dreadful, greedy creep to endanger your existence the way he has.”

“That's so right,” Marilyn agreed. “Wish we could repay him on your behalf.”

“But you have, my smart and beautiful ladies,” Ahmed said.

“We have what?” Marilyn demanded.

“Caused him to be repaid in kind,” Ahmed said.

“How?” Marilyn asked.

“You will find out in the fullness of time,” Ahmed promised.

The camels quickened to a lurching trot. They crossed the paddock, stepped down the steep path to the riverbed, past the four-wheel drive and the silent striped tent, and along the track by the river.

They crossed more paddocks and moved onto the familiar dirt road that led to the Pound. Everything was very quiet. The camels plodded up to the dark bulk that was the office of the Pound in front of the small house.

Allie looked at her watch. It was only five-thirty, so they had made very good time. The camels folded themselves down, and the girls slid off.

Somewhere a dog barked. Ahmed looked across at the yards of the Pound. The barking cut off suddenly. He nodded as he slid off the camel and lifted off his saddle. The camels blurred and vanished.

Marilyn became crisp and businesslike. “We could break into the office and get the keys, but if we got caught we would be in real trouble. Let's go around into the backyards and have a look at the gate.”

“They put the horses in the third enclosure,” Jenny said as they walked along the paddock behind the small house and office.

Allie decided she was nervous even though no one was around. How did horse rustlers feel about horse stealing? The sky was turning a deeper pink. They reached the enclosure with its high fence, and the animals behind moved restlessly and whinnied as they came closer. It was light enough to see the big padlock across the latch of the high gate. Allie's heart sank.

“Yeah,” Marilyn muttered thoughtfully. She looked at Ahmed. “I suppose the fence is too high to jump?”

“With a decent run Caliph could jump in, but not out. The yard is too small.” Ahmed said regretfully. He put the saddle down on the ground and squatted cross-legged beside it.

Marilyn took out an oddly chipped and torn metal nail file and leaned over the padlock. “This is going to take awhile. Find a tap and fill the bucket I brought along.”

Allie reached into the plastic bag and pulled out the blue plastic bucket, which she had last remembered seeing in the sandpit with the other toys.

“They must have lots of taps with all those animals,” Jenny said.

“Be easier to see where the taps are when it gets a bit lighter,” Allie grumbled, as they stumbled around in the darker shadows of the high walls.

“Be easier for everyone else to see us when it gets a bit lighter,” Jenny reminded her grimly.

Allie was silenced. They found a tap in the front garden of the Pound office and filled the bucket. Jenny nudged Allie. There was the pale blur of a notice stuck across the top glass of the door of the office.

It was getting lighter but still hard to see. Jenny squinted to read the large print of the short message.

“We're in luck!” she whispered at last. “The place is closed all day because of the picnic races.”

They walked back along the series of yards until they reached the right enclosure. Ahmed was saddling Caliph outside the closed gate. Marilyn whispered something to him. Ahmed nodded, mounted Caliph in one lithe movement, waved to the girls, and trotted the horse off.

“You're pretty smart,” Allie said.

“Yeah! When I was younger I wanted to be a cat burglar and spent ages practising how to unlock stuff without a key. Never thought it would pay off though. Ahmed is heading over to the track to give Caliph enough rest so he can win this afternoon.”

Allie handed over the bucket. Marilyn emptied the four dye packets into it and found a stick to stir it.

“I was lucky to get the cold-water dye,” she said as she stirred. “And we're lucky that the grey wasn't collected from the Pound yesterday.”

Marilyn slipped off her shoes, her shorts, her black tee shirt, and the purple string shirt over it and folded them neatly on the ground.

“Why are you undressing?” Allie demanded, inspecting the black lace bra across Marilyn's flat chest, and the matching black lace briefs.

“No point risking getting dye on my clothes, but it won't show up on the black underwear if I do splash a bit. She reached inside the plastic bag for what looked like an old towel, picked up the bucket, and swung open the gate. “Come on, and shut the gate after you.”

“What if the grey isn't placid?” Allie worried.

“I'm doing the painting, and you two are going to keep it occupied.”

“We haven't got a bridle to hold the horse with. How are we going to keep it still long enough for you to paint it?” Jenny protested as they went inside the enclosure, shutting the gate after them.

Allie counted eleven horses in the yard. Five smallish ponies, a good-looking roan mare, another smaller black one, the three palominos, and the grey horse. Marilyn unwrapped the towel and produced a bag of jellybeans.

“Pinched them from the brothers,” she explained. “Fill your pockets. You can keep feeding the grey jellybeans until I've finished.”

She picked up the bucket, and they moved through the horses towards the grey. It surveyed them suspiciously. Marilyn crooned at it and offered it a jellybean. It sniffed at her hand, slurped up the jellybean, and followed Marilyn across to the fence.

She nodded to the girls to move around to its head and start feeding it the jellybeans. Allie was nervous. What if it missed and ate her hand instead? However, the soft velvety muzzle lowered into her hand, and it didn't seem so terrible after all.

The grey put back its ears and arched its head around to stare at Marilyn when she first brushed the wet flannel across its body. Allie offered it another jellybean. It lost interest in what Marilyn was doing. The other horses crowded closer, and Allie spared a thankful thought that she, Jenny and Marilyn all wore heavy walking shoes.

The pink of the sky faded to pale blue. It became lighter. The horse was a now deep greyish colour, except for its white head. Marilyn went back over the horse with the dripping towel. The horse's coat darkened a lot more.

“Running out of jelly beans,” Allie warned.

“And I'm completely out,” Jenny said. “Suppose it was silly to feed the other horses, but some of them looked unfriendly.”

“Doesn't matter. I'm just on finished,” Marilyn said.

She moved around to the front of the horse and stroked the wet towel down its face, up across the ears, and under its neck. The horse's head darkened to a deeper grey. The bucket was empty. The sun slanted across the horizon.

“I don't suppose it matters about its head,” Marilyn said regretfully. “Hopefully, the Rangers will just notice a black back among the other horses. Let's blow.”

They left the enclosure and the milling, interested horses, shut the gate, and clicked the padlock locked over it. Marilyn pulled on her shoes and clothes, picked up her plastic bag and they started the long trudge back to Mon Repose.

“I was thinking,” Allie said as they walked along. “What if Ahmed needs an entry fee to go in his race?”

“Ahmed has been cleaning everyone's cars and says he should have enough for the entry fee,” Marilyn explained.

“I reckon he's pretty smart for a genie,” Allie said. “If his magic doesn't work, he's prepared to earn money the hard way.”

“Except we don't know how smart genies are supposed to be,” Jenny pointed out.

For some reason this seemed very funny, and the girls plodded along giggling. After awhile they lapsed into silence. The sun was up properly, and the early freshness gone. They were all hot and sweaty and more tired than they liked to admit.

“I'm going to climb under the shower as soon as we get in,” Allie said.

“Me too,” Jenny agreed. She turned to look at Marilyn. “You're going to need to have a decent shower before you go in for breakfast. You've splashed dye all over yourself!” Her voice tailed off. There was an odd note in her voice.

Allie turned to look at Marilyn. In the bright light of the morning sun the splashes on Marilyn's arm were no longer black but bright purple. Marilyn held up her arms and stared in disbelief.

It was Jenny who came out in her precise voice what must have happened.

“In your hurry to ‘buy' the dye, you grabbed the dark purple and not the black. The Rangers might not notice if there is still a black horse in the Pound, but I think a bright purple one will be pretty noticeable.”

Marilyn's face flushed bright red and then faded to an odd shade of dirty white, decorated by bright purple splashes. Proof enough that Jenny was right.

 

 

“I must say you girls are quiet this morning,” Mrs. Marybone said as she handed around bowls of breakfast cereal. “Silly of you to talk half the night. Did Ahmed's headache clear up?”

“Perfectly recovered,” Jenny said. “He asked to be excused and was going out for the day.”

The three girls, freshly showered and changed, were among the first to arrive in the big dining room. Marilyn was so clean she glowed. It had taken a lot of hard scrubbing and much “ouching” from Marilyn before her two friends had managed to get the purple dye completely off.

“Nice, mannered boy,” Mrs. Marybone said approvingly, and Allie looked at Jenny in admiration. “Glad he got over his migraine.”

“So what do we do for the morning?” Allie said after they had finished breakfast.

“Everyone's going or has gone to the picnic meeting, but I heard the horse race doesn't happen until this afternoon,” Marilyn said. “I vote we go back to bed for the morning.”

“Mrs. Marybone said they ‘do' the bedrooms in the mornings, whatever that's supposed to mean,” Jenny said doubtfully.

“Should be okay as long as we warn her,” Marilyn said. “Be all right if I crash in your room? I won't get any sleep with the boys playing in our bedroom.”

“I knew that sitting up half the night was a silly idea,” Mrs. Marybone said when they approached her. “I'll send someone in to wake you if you don't come out for the lunch bell.”

Allie was stretched out on her bed with Marilyn sprawled out on the other end and dozing off when she had a sudden thought.

“How are we going to get Caliph back into the Pound enclosure before the Rangers arrive back?” Allie asked. “Ahmed won't be able to pick the padlock.”

“No probs,” Marilyn said. “He reckons he can jump him in.”

“It's an awfully high fence. And what about the other horses?”

“Caliph is an awfully smart horse.”

“What's going to happen when the Rangers realize there is one black horse missing and a bright purple horse in there instead of the grey?” Allie worried.

“With luck, if the place is closed, the Rangers won't even notice.”

“With luck!” Jenny said, awake and listening.

“The place comes to a dead stop for the picnic because the whole district is going. It's some sort of fundraising thing. It'll be okay, trust me.” Marilyn yawned. “I've never struck such a pair of worrywarts as you two. Settle down and get some sleep, or we'll be too tired to enjoy ourselves.”

Allie sighed but closed her eyes to pretend sleep, although she knew she was too wide awake and worried to go to sleep. This made it even more surprising when she had to be shaken from her heavy sleep by Jenny because it was lunchtime.

The dining room was nearly deserted. Lots of the guests had already gone to the picnic meeting. Some of the remaining guests were discussing the horses. The girls eavesdropped anxiously.

There was talk of Teddy Boy, the local wonder; of Captain John, the retired racehorse sprinter; and Mr. Billings' Melinda, who had won last year.

“Well, my money's going to be on Kaydin,” Mr. Marybone said as he delivered the plates of corned beef and mash to all the tables. “He used to be a magnificent steeplechaser in his day before old Westy bought him for a riding hack.”

“Except there won't be any hurdles to jump today,” Mrs. Marybone said. “It's speed and stamina that will count.”

After lunch was over, Marilyn winked and left with her family. Mr. Marybone backed a shiny black car out of the garage. Mrs. Marybone got in the front, and Allie and Jenny got into the back.

Allie started to worry again as the car steadily chugged the long distance to their destination.

“It's going to be an awfully long way for Ahmed to ride Caliph back to the Pound,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Jenny agreed uneasily.

The car at last turned off the main road, bumped a short distance down a narrow bush track, and pulled to a stop under a tree.

“We're here,” Mr. Marybone announced. “Everybody out, and I'll get out the picnic gear.”

“Doesn't look like a proper race track,” Jenny remarked as they got out of the car and stood looking around. “More like a picnic spot.”

The picnic atmosphere was intensified by the big sports oval, with marked out areas for foot races and judges' pavilions. Everyone had picnic rugs and collapsible tables and chairs set up under brightly striped umbrellas.

One awning was set up under the shade of a tree, and sweating women sold tea and cakes. Farther down the paddock another awning covered a group of men clustered around a trestle with a barrel on it. There were brightly coloured umbrellas with men standing beneath them beside chalked blackboards with people crowding around them and money changing hands.

Some of the cars had their boots up, displaying and selling goods. Allie looked across. There were junky looking things like tools, old clothes, and hand-woven baskets, but nothing interesting.

Past them was a roughly put together enclosure where a few horses were gathered, twitching tails at the flies and moving around restlessly. Wires were festooned around the trees, and loud speakers were tied to several of the trees.

“Not many horses here for a race meeting,” Jenny said.

“Foot races, not horse races,” Mrs. Marybone explained. The girls exchanged dismayed glances. “Lots of good runners came from around here.”

“The local paper said there were going to be a horse race,” Jenny said.

“Just the one horse race to finish up the day.” Mrs. Marybone pointed across to the other side of the oval. “They race twice around the track, around the hill, and back to the finish line beside the goalposts of the oval.” She settled herself comfortably in the chair Mr. Marybone had produced. “The picnic meeting is to raise funds towards the new kindergarten.”

“We'll go and find Marilyn,” Jenny said, nudging at Allie who still stared at Mrs. Marybone in dismay.

“Enter for some of the foot races,” Mrs. Marybone called as they left. “And come back for your afternoon tea.”

Allie and Jenny pushed their way through the crowd. Their destination was the horse enclosure. Marilyn sat under a tree chatting to Ahmed. He had a peaked cap on his head and wore a white shirt and well-cut jodhpurs.

“Wow!” Allie said. “You look so different.”

“And so does Caliph,” Ahmed replied with his flashing smile. “Two of the Rangers are listed as the horse race judges, and I didn't want either of us to be recognized.”

“The cap, shirt, and pants were only twenty cents each over at the car boot sales,” Marilyn reported. “Wish we had some money. I saw this terrific gold lame evening dress.”

“So where is Caliph?” Allie asked.

Marilyn nodded to a horse grazing behind them. It didn't look a bit like Caliph. It had a white blaze on its nose and white socks on its feet. It had a smaller, neater saddle on its back, and an ordinary bridle strapped around its nose.

“I renamed him Candy,” Ahmed said proudly.

“Is that a boy horse name?” Jenny asked.

“Doesn't matter,” Marilyn said. “The miserable thing about the race is that the prize money is so lousy. Four hundred dollars for a win, two hundred dollars for second, and one hundred dollars for third.”

“It will cover the Pound fees,” Allie said. “If Caliph wins.”

“I will do my best,” Ahmed assured them.

“Suppose people expect to make their money out of their betting,” Jenny said. “What time is the race?”

“Four thirty. Last event of the day,” Marilyn said gloomily. “Wish we at least had our ten dollars to bet with. I don't suppose...”

“No money,” Jenny said. “We gave you all we had.”

“It's an awfully long way back to the Pound from here,” Allie said. “Ahmed will have to get back to the Pound ahead of the Rangers, and they will be travelling by car.”

“Caliph and I will cut cross-country,” Ahmed said. “I will reach the Pound ahead of them, have Caliph inside the enclosure, and be waiting outside for them. Once I've got the horses out, I will send them back and return to Mon Repose.”

“And then we have to find a way to send you after them,” Jenny worried. “We meant to ask how to return you last night, but forgot.”

There was a glum silence. The loudspeakers blared out the names of the next runners. People moved towards the oval to watch.

“One problem at a time,” Marilyn said at last. “Come on and watch the fun.”