Barefoot (8 page)

‘What?’ Arabella didn’t look up.

‘I just need….’ Toni’s voice trailed away as her mother spun round on her desk chair, her face contorted with fury.

‘Spit it out!’

‘Grace’s passport,’ Toni mumbled. To her amazement, Arabella reached up and grabbed a box file from one of the shelves.

‘They’re all in there. Just make sure you put it back.’

Toni inched forward and took the file, holding her breath as she waited for her mother to ask why she wanted it. But the question never came. Arabella had already picked up the phone again and was dialling another number, leaving her to slip out gratefully.

She sifted through the pile of passports until she found Grace’s and was shocked to find five previous owners listed. The first one looked like a breeder and it seemed she had been sold on as a yearling.  Toni decided to start at the beginning. Using the address and a bit of detective work online she was excited when she found a phone number. But the man who answered was completely uninterested.

‘If you’ve got a problem with her, it’s a bit late to come whingeing to me about it.’

‘There’s no problem,’ she interrupted him hastily. ‘I just want to find out more about her.’

‘Sorry. Can’t help.’

‘But you must remember something,’ Toni pushed. ‘She’s a chestnut thoroughbred, with one white sock and a white blaze.’

‘Do you realise how many horses I sell a year?’ He snorted in disgust and put the phone down.

Vile man.

She moved onto the next number and dialled it Another man answered, fortunately polite this time.

‘I bring on youngsters, back them and sell them on.  I don’t tend to get too sentimental about them.’

‘Do you remember what she was like – anything at all?’ Toni persisted.

‘Just like any other thoroughbred mare from my memory. Flighty. My son backed her not me.  He’s in New Zealand now. Sorry.’

Toni hung up, feeling despondent. It was sad how little anyone remembered about Grace. She looked at her list again then dialled the third number she had.

This time she reached a voicemail and left a message, asking them to call her back. She had more luck with the fourth number. A pleasant woman answered immediately and was co-operative when Toni explained why she was calling.

‘Grace. Of course I remember. She was my daughter’s second pony.’

‘What can you tell me about her?’ Toni asked.

‘Not a lot really. Gemma was in Pony Club and competed her for two years. Grace did well for her, but she was too spooky and such a pain to load. We kept her on working livery at a local riding school. It was the only way we could afford her. Someone there bought her off us.’

Toni thanked her and rang off. So Grace had been kept on working livery and was used to lots of different riders. Ponies had one of two responses to that. They became either stubborn and challenging, or nervous and eager to please. Grace definitely fell into the latter category.

She had one more number to call.

This time it was a man who answered.

‘That bloody pony,’ was the first thing he said, ‘don’t remind me. I bought my kid all the gear. Including a trailer we had to drag her into every time. Spent every weekend driving round shows. Cost me a bloody fortune.  Then she woke up one day, found herself a boyfriend and lost interest.’

Toni thanked him politely and rang off.

Then Arabella had bought Grace, and the pony had yet another new home.

A home where her rider resented her.

That was Grace’s life.

*****
  
Six
   *****

Toni’s father was away on a business trip in Boston, and the week alone with Arabella felt endless. When she got home from school one day and saw his car in the yard, she was overcome with relief. She ran inside and prowled round the lower storey of the house calling his name, then saw him through the half-open door of the snug, lying on the sofa.

He sat up and shook himself. ‘Hi, darling. Sorry – jetlag. I couldn’t even make it upstairs.’

As she bent to give him a hug, he ran his fingers through his hair and yawned at the same time. ‘You hungry?’

Toni nodded. ‘I can wait, though. If you need to sleep more.’

He shook his head. ‘No, that would be a bad idea. I’ll be up half the night.’ He hauled himself to his feet and, as always, when she hadn’t seen him for a while, she was in awe of his size.

‘Where’s your mother?’ He tried to make it sound casual.

‘At a show. Shropshire.’

The relief was evident on his face. ‘Looks like it’s just us then. Tell you what. I’ll have a quick shower and we can go to the pub to eat.’

‘I’d like that.’

‘Give me ten minutes.’

He picked up his case and disappeared upstairs, and she sat on the sofa for a minute, still warm from where he had been lying, and thought about Cal. She hadn’t heard a word since the day Jen had taken her to the farm. A whole week.

What had Lauren said? ‘
Guys are crap at communicating’

Not all guys. Her father had managed to text or call every day – even with the time difference in the States. So why did she have to be the one to get in touch with Cal? She sighed and played with her phone again.

‘u ok?’

There. She couldn’t believe she’d actually done it.

She sat back and waited.

‘cool, u?’

‘cool’

Now what? She sat back, frustrated. Then pressed the button to call him. He answered immediately, giving her no chance to change her mind.

‘Hey.’

‘Hey.’

There was a painful silence and she regretted calling at once.

‘I was wondering if you’ve managed to put a saddle on Rebel yet?’

‘Yesterday.’ There was another silence.

‘How’d it go?’

‘Bit tricky. But basically good. Yeah.’

‘Great.’

That was it. She had officially run out of conversation.

Then he surprised her. ‘Sorry about my dad.’

So he
had
been embarrassed. Lauren was right.

‘That’s OK. You haven’t met my mother yet,’ she said, then wished she hadn’t. One day he was going to find out her mother was Arabella De Carteret, but hopefully not for a long time.

‘He wants me to work full-time on the farm.’

‘That’s tough – if you don’t want to.’ Toni could relate to that, with all the pressure she got from Arabella to be something she wasn’t.

‘Right, I’m ready.’

She looked up, startled somehow to see her own father standing in the doorway, showered and shaved, but with exhaustion still evident on his face.

‘I’ve got to go.’ She knew she sounded awkward.

‘OK. Later.’ Cal rang off.

‘Anyone I know?’

‘Just Lauren. Planning to meet up at Badminton.’ She pocketed her phone, wondering why she had lied to him.

‘You guys are still friends?’

‘Yeah.’ Toni nodded warily, waiting for a lecture, but it didn’t come.

He surprised her instead. ‘Hang onto her. She’s original, that one. Now come on. I’m starving.’

When they walked back into the house later, the landline was already ringing.  Her father took the call, then handed it over to Toni.

‘It’s for you. Something about Grace.’ He headed upstairs looking weary.

It was the missing piece of the jigsaw at last. A woman sounding uncertain and nervous. ‘You wanted to know about Grace? I sold her after the accident. My daughter hasn’t owned a horse since.’

‘What happened?’

There was silence at the other end of the line and Toni felt unnerved.

What if her daughter was badly hurt?

‘I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter, really.’

The woman cleared her throat. ‘No, it’s fine. Our trailer jackknifed. Luckily neither of us was injured.’

Toni breathed a sigh of relief, but realised the woman now sounded close to tears.

‘I shouldn’t have called.’

‘Wait!’ The woman wouldn’t let her ring off.  ‘Why do you want to know?’

‘I own Grace now – and I’m trying to understand her a bit better, I guess.’

‘Well, it’s pretty easy to understand,’ the woman said. ‘That mare suffered a real trauma. It’s a miracle she escaped with such minor injuries.’

Toni ended the call filled with self-doubt.  She had thought this would be easy. That all Grace needed was understanding, and she could learn to trust again. But her fear of trailers made complete sense now and indicated a really deep-seated trauma.  And the truth was Toni didn’t have either the skills or knowledge to help her at all.

‘Who was that?’ Her father asked, on his way back downstairs again.

‘One of Grace’s old owners.’

‘What’s going on?’

She hesitated. ‘She has such a phobia about trailers. I was trying to work out why.’

‘Any luck?’

‘Yeah. I know
why
now. I just don’t know if I can do anything about it.’

He gave her a hug. ‘You can do anything if you put your mind to it, darling.’ He disappeared back into the snug and turned on the television.

He believes in me, Toni thought, and the awareness gave her new determination. She might not have knowledge or skills.

But she could get them.

************

The first week of May soon came around, and the yard was tense and focused on one thing only. Badminton.

Arabella and her riders worked every spare minute to make sure the event team were ready. They spent long hours in the arena, perfecting their dressage and showjumping, with Arabella on the sidelines pushing them harder and harder. They were short a groom and the yard wasn’t running as smoothly as it should. The horse world was small. Even though Arabella advertised widely, her reputation had spread. Hardly anyone applied.

Toni kept out of the way as much as she could and spent all her free time reading everything she could find about natural horsemanship.

What sort of personality is Grace?

She considered this. The mare was never comfortable amongst the crowds of other horses at shows and spooked easily. Although Grace was willing, it seemed to come from a deep-seated fear. She was scared of the alternative, which was punishment.

From the start, she had been terrified of the whip. Toni remembered one incident, early on when they had first owned her, and Grace had refused to walk past a new set of jump wings at the arena entrance. Arabella let her get away with it twice, then stormed across and raised her whip.