Stables S.O.S. (6 page)

You know how you always get a picture in your mind of how people are going to be? I had imagined the National Heritage man as pretty old, with gray hair and a matching mustache, wearing faded green tweed and with the air of an old army colonel. You know, all blustery and saying things like, “Well now!” and, “Look sharp!” And because he was from National Heritage, I somehow assumed he'd drive a very old, rather expensive car.

How wrong was I?

The man who got out of the small, modern, rather boring gray car couldn't have looked less like an army type. He looked like a student. A bearded, long-haired, khaki-wearing student. Looking around the yard, he reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a box of matches.

“You can't smoke in a stable yard!” Katy yelled at him from Bluey's stable.

The man dropped his unlit cigarette in alarm and gazed intently at Bluey, probably thinking he'd come to a stable full of talking horses. Which he had, only without Epona, there was no way
he
was going to hear them.

Seeing me in the tack room, the NH man raised his hand in greeting and told me he had an appointment with Mrs. Wiseman.

“I'll get her,” I told him, running around the corner and yelling for Sophie. Then Katy and I shamelessly eavesdropped.

“You believe you have an Elizabethan structure here?” the man asked.

“Oh yes,” Sophie assured him, switching off her cell phone. Things were that serious!

“Very exciting, very exciting,” breathed the NH man. “Not many of them around. We need all the ones we can get, frankly.”

“Yes,” Sophie replied, “I was hoping you'd say that.”

Katy and I exchanged glances. It sounded promising.

“Too many of these wonderful old places are lost,” Mr. NH Man continued, searching his pockets for his cigarettes. Then, remembering Katy's scolding, he returned them to a different pocket, running his fingers through his hair instead.

“Well, let me show you,” Sophie said, and they both walked out to the field. Katy and I followed at a distance and leaned on the gate, waving to Dee who was schooling Dolly in the outdoor school. Sophie had instructed her daughter to work on her transitions. Apparently they'd been shaky at her last show, and Dee was thrilled. Not.

“This is totally going to work,” Katy said, her elbows on the gate, chin in her hands.

I sighed. It had to, really.

A few minutes passed. We watched Henry the black Dales pony scratch his rear end on the trunk of the old oak tree. Pippin, the smallest pony in the stables, walked over to the water trough for a drink, droplets of water dripping from his lips as he lifted his head and stared at something in the distance that we couldn't see, and I could see Drummer standing very still, right at the far end of the field. He was probably trying to act like he wasn't there so I wouldn't bring him in and go riding.

“Look out. They're coming back,” I said as Sophie and the NH man returned at a brisk walk. We skedaddled into the barn, feeling like a couple of (not very good) spies. As the gate clicked shut, we could hear their conversation.

“I do feel you have got me here under false pretenses.” (NH man)

“Absolutely not!” (Sophie)

“I was led to believe the structure was still standing, that there was something to save for the nation.” (NH man)

“I thought you people were interested in historical sites.” (Sophie)

“There's nothing to see!” (NH man)

Sophie didn't seem to have an answer to this—which was a first as far as I could remember.

Katy and I looked at each other in horror. It was obvious that National Heritage couldn't give a hoot about our Elizabethan house. Or, more correctly, where our Elizabethan house had been.

“He doesn't care!” said Katy indignantly.

My heart sank into my boots. What were we going to do now? Making our way around to the stables, we were just in time to see the back of Mr. NH man's gray car disappear down the drive, back to where he came from, unimpressed by our historical site.

Sophie was down but not out.

“He's only interested in actual buildings,” she told us, tapping her toe on the concrete as she went into full rethink mode.

“But that means we're sunk!” I cried, unable to quite believe it. When the day had begun, the stables were saved. Now, it seemed, all was doomed. And we still hadn't got a plan for our Keep Bambi Campaign, my memory reminded me annoyingly! AND I'd sacrificed my Brookdale sash for diddly-squat! I felt my heart dip, and I really thought a tear or two was getting ready to drizzle out of my eyes. I'd had such high hopes for National Heritage.

“Only for the time being,” muttered Sophie, still thinking. “Keep at it, girls. There has to be a way to get around this,” she told us as she marched off to continue doing whatever it was she'd been doing before Mr. NH-time-waster-man had interrupted her.

Katy and I sat on a straw bale outside Tiffany's stable, and I pulled myself together. What a setback! Neither of us said anything. There were no words. From being up there, all positive, we were suddenly plunged once more into despair. I felt a little sick. I could still hear the sizzling sound my sash had made when it had gone up in flames.

“What a bummer!” Katy said at last, ripping pieces of straw out of Bean's bale in frustration and throwing them to the ground.

Bluey stuck his head over his door and asked us what was up.

“The National Heritage people aren't interested in the site,” I explained. “They only want actual buildings. Our building is no more.”

“I know. I was there,” sighed Katy.

“I'm explaining to Bluey,” I explained to his owner.

“Oh,” said Bluey. Then, not able to think up any words of comfort, or possibly wanting to return to nosing around his bed, he withdrew again.

“Where is everyone?” asked Katy. It was almost five o'clock, and everyone else was usually at the stables after school by now. As if she'd heard her, Bean pedaled down the drive and threw herself off her bike.

“Has he come?” she asked. “Are we saved?”

“Yes, he came,” I told her.

“No, we're not saved,” Katy spat out. “He wasn't impressed. He expected a huge building with turrets and stuff.”

“I thought castles had turrets,” mumbled Bean. “So does that mean we've failed?”

“It looks like it,” I groaned, trying once again not to think about my sash. I mean, in the great scheme of things a sash was nothing to worry about, was it?

“Where is everyone?” asked Bean, looking around.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Cat's not here, and there's no James yet, and he said he was coming riding with us. Dee's schooling Dolly in the outdoor school. Are you going to get Tiffany? I'll come with you and get Drummer.”

Bean put her hands on her hips and stared at us both. “Is that my straw bale you're demolishing?” she asked, frowning.

We left Katy quietly fuming in the yard as we made our way out into the field to catch the ponies. Drummer was still at the far end so I had a long walk to get him. He wasn't very excited to leave Bambi, but there was no way she was going to come in with him if she didn't have to.

“Was that the historical guy I saw out here?” Drum asked me as I led him toward the gate after Tiffany's white tail.

I nodded. “He's not interested. Only wants actual buildings or ruins. He was very dismissive of the possibility of a site without any actual bricks and mortar.”

“Oh,” said Drummer. “What are we going to do now?”

“We don't know.”

“Oh.”

We reached the gate. Went through it.

“What's your contingency plan?” Drum asked.

“Haven't got one,” I told him, fastening the gate behind us.

“Oh.”

“Can't you say anything else but
oh
?”

“Yes, but you wouldn't want to hear it!”

Katy, Bean, and I all went for a ride, hoping to lift our spirits. It didn't work. I just kept wondering how much longer we'd be able to ride on the bridle paths, how many more times we'd enjoy a gallop on the Sloping Field or a charge through the Winding Canter. The mood was somber, whereas before we had been optimistic. Even Tiffany seemed down and shied less than usual.

When we got back, James had arrived—and Cat's brother Dec was with him. He'd been coming to the stables now and again with James since he'd helped out on our activity ride at Christmas. Everyone knew why. Declan has the hots for Bean. Good looking, despite his hair nowadays being a sort of rust and blond color, he always wore clothes that could fit another person in with him. As usual, he kept staring at Bean in adoration. I don't know how she manages to ignore him, especially as she's aware of his crush.

“Where have you been, James?” demanded Katy. “It's almost seven o'clock. I thought you were coming riding with us.”

“Change of plans,” James told her, grinning.

“How come?” I asked.

“A problem at school.”

“Like?” asked Bean.

“Oh, nothing,” James answered airily.

“Ha!” interrupted Dec, grinning shyly at Bean. “He got three detentions today.”

“Three!” exclaimed Katy, who never gets detentions. “That's a lot, James, even for you. What did you do?”

“Mistaken identity!” James said, winking at me in a conspiratorial sort of way. My heart did a flip. I wish I could control it, but I can't. I've given up trying to.

“What, all three times?” Bean asked. “Give me a break!”

“I've done my time and paid my dues, and I'm ready to move on,” James said dramatically. “What news from the front, anyway?”

“Has National Heritage saved the day?” Dec asked, obviously fully briefed by his friend as well as his sister.

We told them both the sad news. The mood got even glummer—especially when Dee joined us.

“This SOOOOOO sucks!” she wailed, throwing her hat in her tack box so hard it rebounded out again and bounced along the floor, coming to rest under the tap, which dripped into it.

“You know you're not supposed to wear a hat that's been bashed, don't you?” Katy told her. “It's probably damaged, and you'll need a new one.”

“Oh, it's all right,” Dee told her, picking it up and brushing it off. “I'm always dropping it.”

“No, Katy's right…” began Bean.

“Never mind Dee's hat,” cried James. “Our only hope of saving Laurel Farm has failed. What are we going to do?”

“We'd better start looking for new homes for the ponies,” said Dee, utterly defeated.

“Don't say that!” yelled Katy, her eyes blazing.

“We don't have much choice,” Dee wailed.

Suddenly, Cat arrived in her mom's car, slamming the door shut and running over to where we were all stood in a dejected crowd outside the tack room. Her eyes were blazing and her cheeks flushed, and as she came to an abrupt halt, she ran her fingers through her short, dark hair so that it stood up in spikes on top of her head. She managed to look both furious and despairing at once.

“Have you seen what's been nailed to the telephone pole by the entrance to the stables?” she yelled.

I didn't really care. I didn't think anything could make this day any worse.

I was wrong. Again.

“There's a notice to say that horrible Robert Collins has applied for planning permission for twelve dwellings on the site of Laurel Farm. It's going to go through, I know it is, and we'll never be able to stop it!”

The vision of my Brookdale sash, burning and smoking in our fire at home, swam before my eyes. My sacrifice had definitely been in vain.

“Twelve dwellings!” James read out, standing on tiptoe as the notice had been put quite high up on the telephone pole.

“Told you!” snapped Cat furiously.

“I thought someone said there were going to be
hundreds
of houses?” I asked.

“Twelve—hundreds, what's the difference?” Katy replied, shrugging her shoulders.

The vision of a huge housing development melted in my mind, replaced by a few sorry-looking houses scattered about.

“It says here…er…basically, it says that anyone with any objection should let the council know,” James said, reading from the plastic-covered notice.

“Why don't we just rip it down and burn it?” I suggested.

“Because someone else might have some objections and that could help our case,” said Katy. “If they can't read it, they can't object.”

“Who is there to object? There's no one else within miles!” Bean pointed out.

“That's true. We're the only ones who are going to be affected,” James agreed.

“Well, let's object then!” I said. It seemed so obvious.

“No one will care about ponies having to move out. They mean people,” Dee said. “
People
have to object.”

The notice fluttered in the breeze.
It
'
s
like
a
death
sentence
, I thought, looking at it. A black-and-white notice of misery.

“I suppose some people would welcome it,” Katy said, almost to herself. “I mean, look at the view—imagine having a house here. I expect a lot of people would be interested in buying a house in this area.”

“Like the Elizabethans,” Bean said quietly.

“Well, they haven't helped,” Katy replied. “If they'd built their house a bit better, it might still be here and we might feel a lot differently right now.”

“They'll all be big, expensive houses,” said James, still reading. We all looked at the board under the notice which had a picture of a new house and a laughing couple in a dining room. “LAUREL HEIGHTS” it said in big letters. “What's
Laurel Heights
?” I asked.

“The development,” explained Cat, still seething.

“That's what he's calling it, apparently,” James explained, reading aloud from the smaller letters underneath.
“Laurel Heights, a select, contemporary development in tranquil surroundings—get tomorrow's lifestyle, today.”

“You can't get it today,” Bean pointed out. “It's not built yet.”

James continued reading from the notice. “It says here permission is sought for nine five-bedroom houses, two eight-bedroom houses, and a barn conversion. I mean, they're not going to be cheap, are they? It's hardly affordable housing our buddy Robert is planning. It's not as though he's providing for people without homes. Has anyone got a pen?”

“Barn conversion?” echoed Katy.

“What a jerk!” exploded Cat. “He's going to turn our barn into some horrible house. What do you want a pen for, James?”

“What? Our lovely barn where we keep the ponies' feed and hay?” whispered Bean.

“Your part of it isn't lovely,” Katy told her miserably. “It's a huge mess. Here's a pen.”

Bean made a face. Like that was important. James took Katy's pen and started drawing mustaches on the laughing couple on the board.

“Oh, that's mature!” Katy said.

“It makes me feel better,” James told her.

“They'd look better if the ink was black instead of blue,” Cat pointed out.

“Details, details!” James replied, adding some geeky round glasses.

My imaginary community of twelve sorry-looking houses turned into a plush development of huge mansions, front doors flanked by snowy-white columns and spherical trees in metal containers along the drives.

After James had added beards and a few zits to the laughing couple, we dawdled back along the drive to the stables. Still angry, Cat was looking for someone to take it out on. She picked her brother.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him, poking his arm with her finger.

“He's with me,” James told her.

“I'm asking Dec, not you,” Cat replied.

“Oh, let's not argue!” exploded Katy. “We need to stay united if we're ever going to stop Robert Collins's plans, and another brain isn't something to turn down.”

“Brain? As if!” Cat snorted.

“Speaking of plans,” Dec said, “how are the ones for the Keep Bambi Campaign coming along?”

Everyone groaned.

“Not so good, I take it,” Dec said, throwing his sister an exaggerated smile. He'd successfully got her back where it hurt.

We all did what we had to do—it was too late to ride. Cat ran out to check on Bambi, and James and Dec followed in the same direction at a distance, to see Moth. Katy and Bean turned out Bluey and Tiffany, and Dee had orders from her mom to change Lester and Dolly's water and give them haynets. They were both still stabled—the show season had started so their diets had to be carefully controlled, not to mention their exercise. Once the grass had started to thin a bit, Sophie would turn them out at night like the other ponies. It was the start of what Dee described, rather overdramatically, as her dark season. Her time was not her own, and she wasn't allowed to do anything with Dolly without her mom's say-so.

With a sigh, I brushed Drum's saddle mark out of his back and sponged his eyes and nose, explaining about the notice.

“Things are going from bad to worse,” he snorted.

“Yes,” I said, unable to think of anything else.

“Perhaps you're all trying too hard.”

“What do you mean? How can we try too hard?”

“Oh, well, sometimes the best solutions to problems just sort of occur when you're not consciously thinking of them,” Drummer told me.

That didn't make sense, but I couldn't be bothered to argue with Drummer. I felt limp, like a piece of chewed string.

I put Drum's halter on him and led him out to the field. Dolly stretched her nose out to him as we walked past her stable.

“I wish I was coming out with you, Drummer,” she sighed.

“Yeah, well, it won't be long,” he told her.

As soon as Drummer had gobbled up the apple I'd brought him, he dashed off to see Bambi, only rolling once he was with her. Cat was back in the stables, but I could see James and Dec on the far side of the field under a tree with Moth. James was checking Moth over, and Dec was hanging by his arms from one of the tree's branches like an overdressed ape.

The sun hung like a huge, red ball in the sky, which was turning pink. It was going to be a glorious sunset—but I wouldn't see it before I went home. There was still a while left until the sun went down. I could imagine how popular houses on this site would be—who wouldn't want to live with that view?

James and Dec made their way back to the gate, and we all walked into the stables together. Everyone was still there. Everyone was still gloomy.

“Phew!” puffed Katy, delving into her tack box for a can of Coke that she opened with a
pssst!
“It's still hot, isn't it?” she continued brightly, determined to lighten the mood.

No one else wanted to.

“I can't believe we're going to have to leave here,” mumbled Dee.

“Do you think we'll all be able to move to another yard together?” asked Bean.

“Not likely!” said James. “What stable is going to have six places vacant all at once?”

“Where's Lester going?” asked Dee. “You've left him out.”

“And Henry and Pippin and Mr. Higgins,” said Katy.

“Leanne will be fine—she'll go to some fancy dressage yard,” James told her.

“You're forgetting something,” said Cat glumly. “Bambi's already got a new home so Lester can have her place.”

Everyone went quiet.

“We watched Emily riding Bambi the other day,” Bean said, staring into space.

“Did you?” asked Cat. “What, while I was in the yard? I didn't know.”

“We thought it might provide some inspiration,” I explained.

“It didn't,” added Bean.

“How did Emily do?” asked Cat, curious despite herself.

“Bambi's too much for Emily right now,” I said, remembering the child's frightened face as she'd ridden around the school.

“But she'll get better,” Katy replied. “It's not like Bambi is like Tiffany, all dodging around and getting hysterical at the sight of a chip bag or an oversized worm. Emily will soon be as confident as anything.”

“Yeah, if I'd gotten Tiffany before I was a half-decent rider, she'd have turned me off riding for life,” Bean laughed. “I'd never have wanted a pony—at least, not one like Tiffany!”

Everyone was silent. Everyone, except for Bean, was thinking the same thing. You could almost hear the whirring of collective brains in the evening air.

“That's it!” cried James.

“Of course!”

“Problem solved!”

“Why didn't we think of it before?”

“That's genius, Bean!” (That was Dec—of course.)

“Oh, that is so going to work!”

“What is?” asked Bean, confused.

Leaping up, Cat threw her arms around Bean and gave her a hug. “I do believe you have just come up with the most delicious plan!” she told her.

“I have?”

“Somebody explain it to her,” said James, shaking his head.

“Bambi will need to act like Tiffany for a while,” I told her.

Bean frowned in confusion.

“Just enough to prove to Aunt Pam that she isn't a suitable mount for Emily,” continued Dec.

“But only enough to scare her a bit,” Katy said doubtfully. “It would be horrible if we scared her so much she gave up riding altogether.”

“Oh yes, of course,” agreed Cat quickly, almost managing to convince herself if no one else.

“How will Bambi know what to do?” Bean asked.

Four pairs of eyes swung my way. I grinned.

“Ahhhh, of course!” sighed Bean. “Well, who'd have thought I'd be the one to come up with a plan for our Keep Bambi Campaign?”

“Not me, for a start,” James mumbled.

“Shame you didn't realize you'd nailed it!” Cat told her.

“And we'll need Pia to brief Bambi and put the plan into action,” Katy pointed out.

“That's teamwork for you!” said Dec.

“I've got to tell Drummer!” I said, running toward the field. He was going to be so relieved we'd come up with a plan—when we hadn't been trying, just like he'd said. How did he do that?

“And Bambi!” Cat called after me. “Tell Bambi, too!”