The Wild Boy and Queen Moon (18 page)

‘Leo!’ Sandy wailed.

This was where one had to jump, turn and neatly jump back into the wood. The Empress didn’t know about this, only that she didn’t like woods and wanted to go home. As she approached at a flat gallop the spot where Sandy and Ian were standing, Sandy could see Leo hauling with all her strength on the hard old mouth to get the mare to circle back. As there was a thick hedge ahead of her, she was partially successful. Sandy saw Leo’s face, white as a sheet, blur past. Ian was laughing his head off.

‘Is this competition serious?’ he asked.

Sandy did not deign to reply. It was deadly serious for Leo, she reckoned. But Leo’s panic had produced the strength to haul the old mare back on course, and as she found herself alone again, with nowhere to go, she slowed down, dropping back into a trot. Finding herself alone, she let out a resounding whinny. Leo turned her round and at the bottom of the long field she
saw
her three friends waiting for her, having emerged one by one out of the wood. As far as Sandy could see, they were all in one piece – even Tony.

Neighing in a highly unprofessional manner, the chestnut mare cantered back to the team, and Julia, at a shout from Polly, turned Faithful to jump back into the wood again. This she did very neatly, followed by the other two. Empress of China, directed towards the jump, remembered that she didn’t like woods, lost impulsion and refused. Leo had thought she would jump and shot up round the mare’s ears, but luckily the old girl didn’t put her head down and Leo was able to push herself back into the saddle. She circled again and, legs crashing wildly against the mare’s sides, she persuaded her to take a poky cat-leap over the bar into the wood. It looked anything but fluent and heart-lifting, but it got her to the other side where the others were apparently waiting, for none of them had appeared yet out of the wood for the second time.

In retrospect, it might have helped if they had carried on and come out of the wood and up the big field to the pen one by one, rather than in a bunch. Having been held up, the other three horses were now all eager to get on with it. They jumped out on each others’ heels, Faithful leading, and Empress of China, last, jumped this time with
such
abandon she landed alongside Charlie’s Flying. This obviously stirred her old racing instincts for she immediately went away at a gallop none of them knew was in her, outstripping even the long-striding King of the Fireworks. For the second time she streaked up the field towards Sandy and Ian, putting lengths between herself and the rest of the team.

Sandy groaned and shut her eyes, feeling Leo’s panic flaring in her own breast. And to think she had wanted the ride herself! Leo had no option but to try and circle again. Tony was trying hard not to follow her on King of the Fireworks, but without success. Faithful went neatly and obediently into the pen, and Polly managed to get Charlie in as well, and there they had to wait while the other two members of their team careered round the countryside, trying to regain control. Sandy thought the Empress was likely to drop dead as she was by now lathered with sweat – who would tell Uncle Arthur?

‘Funny old sport, this,’ Ian commented. ‘I’m not surprised they don’t do it on television.’

‘It’s more interesting than snooker,’ Sandy snapped.

Eventually, by the time Leo was as exhausted as the mare, they managed to converge on the pen. Tony had got there shortly before them, and as Empress of China, reunited with her friends again, passed through the gateway, Julia slipped
the
rail back into place. By the time she had remounted, Polly was away over the rail and off up the next field, followed by the three others.

Sandy breathed a sigh of relief. The worst was over, she hoped. They were heading for home now and, hopefully, tiring.

Over the next stretch it was Faithful who got left behind, the big horses shooting past, but at the next ditch but one, Tony fell off. King of the Fireworks jumped very big, a stride before Tony was expecting, and Tony was dumped in the water. Polly caught Fireworks who – typically, and unlike Charlie or the Empress – thought it good manners to wait for a fallen rider, and Tony scrambled aboard again. By this time, Faithful had caught up and they rode very respectably, all together like a proper team, round the bottom of the course and over another ditch and rail. Nobody fell off and nobody was now bolting. Only the long uphill to the finish was left, with one easy fence on the way.

Here King of the Fireworks came into his own, striding powerfully round the bottom bend and pulling hard as he came up the hill. He took the fence in his stride and showed no signs of tiring – nor of stopping either. Charlie’s Flying chased him hard, Polly driving him on, grinning like a monkey, and behind them brilliant little Faithful was coming as fast as her lack of inches allowed. Leo, on the Empress, knowing that their
score
was decided by the first three horses home, eased up and came up the hill at a mere trot. The chestnut mare was covered in lather and breathing hard, but there was a heady light in her eyes. Leo, slumped exhausted over her neck, cried out to Sandy, ‘Oh, she was marvellous! She loved it! It was wonderful!’

‘You could have fooled me,’ Ian said.

Leo slithered to the ground. She could hardly stand up. Sandy ran and took the reins of the excited mare.

‘It was great! You all made it! Good old Empress!’ She patted the dripping neck, infected now with Leo’s euphoria. They had all got round, for better or for worse, and now it was over there was a heady sense of achievement. Polly rode back, grinning all over her face.

‘King of the Fireworks hasn’t stopped yet. He went through the gate and looks set to go round again. Poor old Tony!’

They all trailed up the hill back to the horse-boxes. Julia came behind on Faithful who was still as fresh as paint. She had done a faultless round. Julia’s mother was waiting for her.

‘That pony’s not bad – if you got together with a decent bunch, you could be up with the winners.’

‘I like this bunch,’ Julia said.

Her mother rolled her eyes. ‘They—’

‘Oh, shut up,’ said Julia.

The Marsdens were incredibly rude to each other, Sandy thought. But Mrs Marsden didn’t take it amiss.

‘We’ll get you a bigger animal. She’s too small. She must be worth a bit, now you’ve got her jumping ironed out.’

‘She’s mine. I’m not selling her. I’m small too, or haven’t you noticed?’

While this bickering was going on, Tony’s mother was waiting for them, fluffed up with concern like a broody bantam.

‘Is he all right? Surely this is all very dangerous? Where is he?’

‘He likes it so much he’s doing it again,’ Polly said.

She wasn’t too concerned: King of the Fireworks was such a Christian beast that she did not think Tony would come to any harm, even when he was out of control. What a horse! And yet Tony, knowing no other, took him completely for granted. Polly had paid a mere five hundred pounds for Charlie’s Flying because no-one else could ride him (and live), yet Tony had been
given
a horse worth ten thousand pounds at least and didn’t have an inkling of what a treasure he possessed. King of the Fireworks was king of far more than fireworks, and had a sweet and noble nature to go with his fabulous talent. If Polly had had an envious nature she would not have been able to cope with her feelings but, as
it
was, getting Charlie’s Flying round and merely coming home in one piece gave her the same wild elation that Leo had revealed.

‘It was fabulous! Fantastic!’

Tony could be seen homing in on the horsebox from the far countryside.

‘The old fool wanted to go round again!’ he complained. But the common elation was evident beneath his soaked and muddy person. His blue eyes positively glowed.

‘We did brilliantly!’ Polly cried. ‘You were all marvellous!’

‘If that was brilliant,’ Ian murmured to Sandy, ‘what happens when everything goes wrong?’

‘It feels brilliant, she means.’

‘Because it’s over?’

‘Oh, shut up.’

They all had their hands full, unsaddling and cleaning up the horses. The team-chase was scored by time only, and their time on the board was about four times longer than the fastest, but they had completed.

‘We got round!’ Tony was carolling. ‘Were you watching, Auntie?’ he shouted to the heavens.

‘Turning in her grave, I should imagine,’ Ian said.

‘Next time—’ said Polly.

‘Oh no!’ Leo cried. ‘Not again!’

They laughed and gabbled, still on a high. Sandy, helping, felt cut off. She could only guess
how
Leo felt now that it was over, having seen how terrified she had been. Did she really envy her? Sandy was confused, not knowing, but very much aware of her isolation. She had a sudden, hopeless dream of doing this competition on a perfect horse, her own horse, riding for her life and meeting jump after jump fluent and footsure, and riding up the hill with all the sky to meet her and the sun shining. The perfect horse – Queen Moon! But she knew it was never going to happen.

She was quiet as they drove home, but none of the others noticed. They were all screaming and laughing and recapping on the horrors of the day. Ian had departed on his mountain bike, declining a lift, and the two mothers had been left fraternizing, an unlikely pair, by the jacket-potato van.

When they got home, Sandy left them all to it. They had had the fun; they could do the work.

She had never been aware of this sort of envy before, not even sure if that was what it was. But suddenly it seemed, in face of that elated cohesion she had sensed in the others as they straggled back to the horsebox, that she had no share in what really mattered at all. She knew it was a passing depression in the direct aftermath of all the excitement, but in essence it was all part of the great confusion she felt wrapped up in. Who did you trust? Where were you going? What was
it
all about? Didn’t any of the others feel like this sometimes?

Of course, most of the time, she didn’t . . . just sometimes, when everyone else seemed to get it right and she was left on the sidelines.

She wanted to be on her own. She walked down the track out of the yard to the field gate where she could see Queen Moon grazing with Blackie and the yearling. The wind had dropped and the late sun was slanting down through the woods behind her, turning the high tide to a shimmering rose highway. The gulls dipped and squawked across the wall, and six shelduck were idling in the bottom field. Queen Moon set off the idyllic scene, her long shadow following her as she cropped the new grass.

Sandy called her and she came up obediently. She pushed her soft muzzle into Sandy’s hand, although there was nothing in it, and stood quietly – possibly affectionately. It was hard to tell with a horse. She had the most beautiful head Sandy had ever seen in any horse – and that included King of the Fireworks; her eyes were huge and soft like an Arab’s, and the outline of her nostrils made a bold and elegant curve. Her ears were long and forever attentive.

‘I do love you!’ Sandy whispered.

And Jonas too, but Jonas was gone. He would need money, and come back to sell Queen Moon. He had made her such a schooled ride that she
was
worth a good deal now. He would find her a good home without any trouble. Possibly someone might buy her and keep her at Drakesend. Perhaps Julia? Sandy wondered if she could persuade her.

Her summer coat was coming through, a deeper grey than the winter coat. Although she had been considered too small to race, she was not in any way spindly; she had a deep girth and was very compact. Since she had been at Drakesend she had filled out and looked much better. The freedom and the good grass agreed with her. Soon she would get too fat.

‘When it gets hot you can come in during the day,’ Sandy promised her. She would get the best. Graze in the cool of the night under her namesake, the summer moon. Nothing was too good for her.

Sandy walked back to the stable, comforted. Polly and Julia had gone. Only Tony was still there, about to depart in the impressive horsebox. He had a stupid grin on his face and seemed to be in a trance.

‘I really enjoyed that,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know – I’ve never—’ Words seemed to fail him. ‘I mean, I can see now that I – I’m not good enough for him.’

Sandy wished she had a tape recorder to immortalize these incredible words. Without it, Polly and Leo would never believe he had uttered them.
Contact
with a great horse had improved him out of all measure. Would his devoted mummy notice the change?

‘You are! At least you will be, now you see what it’s all about. Now you realize—’

‘It must take years to learn to ride like that – like Polly.’

‘Yes. But you’ve got such a super horse. He’s not difficult like Charlie. He will do it for you as long as you don’t interfere with him.’

‘I fell off, and he didn’t do anything wrong.’

‘But it was the first time – you’ll get the hang of it.’

‘It must be fantastic – racing – jumping—’

They all had their dreams. Tony climbed up into the cab and then remembered his leather jacket.

‘I’ll go and get it,’ Sandy said, ‘while you turn round.’

She went back to the tackroom, smiling at Tony’s turn-around. It was hardly six months since he had arrived, so brash and revolting.

But the jacket had vanished.