Ponies at Owls' Wood (4 page)

‘Well, holidays are too long.' He stared at her. ‘And I've told you a thousand times to call me
Uncle
Pete. I'll be working on the van today and I don't want you bothering those ponies. Fill up their water if you must but if I catch you talking to any nosy parkers that think to come round here, you'll have me to answer to. And don't forget I want you to do the chickens.' He paused at the door as he left and said, ‘Say hello to your gran for me.'

Jess never knew whether Pete intended to sound sarcastic when he said things like this, or whether he really meant that she should pass his greetings on to her gran. He was a man whose temper changed from one moment to the next. It made her permanently uneasy. She refused to call him her uncle, because he wasn't. And he never would be, no matter how long he stayed in their lives.

After Jess's mother Marilyn had died, Jess and her father had come to live with her grandmother, Grace, and Auntie Cyn at High Farm. At that time, Cyn had been out at work in a good job and was frequently away on business. Jess's father had wanted the support his wife's relations could offer Jess, but soon found himself bored and lonely living so far out in the country, with a distance to travel daily to work. Before long he'd met someone else and gone to live in Birmingham, pressing Jess, unsuccessfully, to join him there. He'd been disappointed when she hadn't wanted to leave her gran.

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 convincing 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.