Stables S.O.S. (7 page)

“OK!” Katy said briskly, rubbing her hands together. “Let's recap on what we have got and what we haven't.”

“I
have
got to clean my tack,” grumbled Dee.

“And we
haven't
!” giggled Bean.

“You can help me, then,” Dee told her, flinging a wet sponge across the yard. It landed, splat, on Bean's knee, leaving her with a wet patch on her pink, checkered jodhpurs.

“That's soaking wet and cold!” she squealed.

“That's funny, coming from someone who washes their hair in the stables,” James said.

“I meant plan-wise,” Katy reminded us.

“We
have
got a plan for the Keep Bambi Campaign,” said Cat, punching the air.

“We
haven't
been so lucky with our Stables S.O.S.,” James said, sighing. “So even if we are successful and Bambi stays, we may all still come up one day to find our ponies tied to the fence with their suitcases packed.”

“Tiffany hasn't got a suitcase,” said Bean, puzzled. James threw her a look of despair. “Oh, I get it,” said Bean, matching James's glare. “Very funny!”

“Not really,” mumbled Cat.

Katy stroked Cat's arm reassuringly. “We're not beaten yet, are we?”

“No!” everyone chorused. I wondered whether they felt the same as me—although I joined in with a resounding NO with everyone else, I felt far from confident that we would ever be able to save the stables.

“We just need another idea,” said Bean. “A second chance.”

“Exactly! And of course we're doing this for Mrs. Collins, too,” Katy reminded us. “I bet she doesn't want to go into some home. She'll miss her cats and Squish.”

“I wouldn't miss that Twiddles-scissor-paws,” Dee said, looking around in case he materialized out of thin air. “He's a monster cat.”

“Not with Mrs. C, he isn't,” I reminded her.

A car trundled down the drive. Nobody recognized it, and we all looked up, wondering who it could be.

It was the enemy, Robert Collins.

Stopping the car outside his mother's house, he got out and unlocked the front door, closing it behind him as he disappeared inside.

“What do you think he's up to?” I asked.

“Do you think he's come to get her stuff?” Katy said. “Do you think Mrs. C is off to the home?”

“She might be dead,” suggested James.

“Oh, James!” exclaimed Bean. “That is so horrible! You don't think she really is, do you?”

“My mom said she was looking much better when she went to see her last night, so I doubt it,” Dee told us, glaring at James.

“What else did she say?” Cat asked Dee.

“Nothing much. Mrs. C doesn't seem to have any notion of her son's plans to stick her in a home. She kept telling Mom about her idea for her stair lift and asking after the cats.”

“She really has no idea?” I asked.

“That is so cruel,” Bean whispered.

The door to the house flew open again, and Robert Collins came out clutching some papers. He seemed to notice us for the first time and waved halfheartedly with a weak smile.

Nobody waved back.

Robert Collins jumped in his car, did a three-point turn on the gravel, and sped off up the drive in a cloud of dust.

“Do you reckon they're the deeds to the place he's got there?” Cat asked gravely.

“Who knows?” said James.

That
is
the
worst
of
it
, I thought. It was horrible, not knowing exactly what Robert Collins was up to.

That evening, when I got home, I sat on my bed looking first at Epona sitting on my dressing table, and then at my beautiful Brookdale ribbons. I couldn't help wondering whether I really would have to make another sacrifice. Was it coincidence that we'd come up with a plan for our Keep Bambi Campaign the day after I had thrown my beautiful sash in the fire? Standing on my bed I lifted my beautiful first and second place Brookdale ribbons down from the wall, together with the orange and lime Sublime Equine Challenge ribbon. OK, so they were a bit dusty, but they were still gorgeous.

Something fluttered down to the floor. A small, rectangular white card. Jumping off the bed I bent down, flipping it up with my thumbnail, and was about to throw it in the trash when I noticed it had writing on the other side.

Alex
Willard, Equine Behaviorist
, I read. His address and telephone number were underneath in smaller writing. Under that was http.alexwillard.com. He'd given it to me when we'd both been on an afternoon TV show, and I suddenly remembered why I had hidden it there. My mom, tipsy with wine and—there was no other word for it—desperate, had mistakenly believed that Alex Willard was interested in her and had threatened to call him. How embarrassing would that have been? Behind my Brookdale ribbon had seemed a good place to hide the card. I didn't want my mom to find it and be tempted.

We had seen him again at the Riding for the Disabled Equine Extravaganza at Christmas. That time, I remembered, Alex
had
been interested in my mom because she had been smiley and happy and very different—because she had been with Mike. She was still with Mike.
She
is
still
smiley
and
happy
, I thought.

Alex Willard…He was a
name
. He was a
celebrity
—even non-horsey people had heard of Alex Willard. He'd been on TV tons of times. I wondered…

After switching on my computer, I waited impatiently for the screen to flicker to life. I was no stranger to Alex Willard's website—it was at the very top of my list of favorites. I often went on it to look at his case studies and tried to soak up some of his techniques—although since I could talk to Drum, I hadn't been on it so much. Things were a bit easier if you could actually communicate with horses.

Alex
wouldn't have given me his card if he hadn't been OK with me contacting him
, I thought. If I had needed any help with Drummer or anything, that's why he'd handed it over.

Well, I needed help now. Big time.

I clicked on Contact Alex and an email page came up.

What could I say?

What made me think he could help?

What did I think he could do?

How on earth could he do anything?

It's only an email
, I thought, and started typing.

The next time Cat's Aunt Pam brought Emily to see her darling Bam-Bam, our Keep Bambi Campaign had been initiated. Darling Bam-Bam was fully primed, ready to go, and anything but darling!

“I wouldn't like to do anything that will hurt Emily,” Bambi had said to me after I'd outlined what she had to do to change Cat's cousin's mind from wanting Bambi to be her own pony.

“No, we wouldn't like that, either,” I'd agreed, nodding seriously. Drummer had been with us—we were out in the field after school under one of the trees, and Cat, Katy, James, and Bean had all been there, too.

“Tell her she just has to be a little bit too lively for a beginner,” Cat had interrupted. She'd kept butting in. I suppose I would have done it, too, if she'd been able to understand equine instead of me. I didn't want to think about that. If Cat had found Epona instead of me, that was exactly what would be happening. Not a nice thought, even if we were actually on speaking terms these days.

“Look,” I had explained to Bambi, “you just need to pretend you're not as nice as you really are. You know how you're always putting your ears back and lunging at people over your stable door, giving them the heebie-jeebies? You just need to exaggerate that a bit.”

Bambi was always making faces and pretending to be fierce, but she was only bluffing. Now it was time to make it for real.

“You know how you behaved with me when I first arrived here?” Drummer had chimed in. “You were a bit of a brat, weren't you?”

“Brat?” Bambi had repeated, drawing herself up and giving Drum a filthy look. “Brat?!”

“Yeah, that's right, just like you're doing now. That's perfect!” Drum had told her, jumping right on in.

“You thought I was a
brat
?” Bambi had continued, unwilling to let it lie.

Oops.

“What's Bambi saying?” Cat had asked.

“Come on, Pia, keep us up-to-date!” James had insisted.

“I think she knows what she has to do,” I had told them, and we'd gone back to the yard leaving Bambi and Drum in a full-scale argument behind us. I could hear all kinds of equine insults being hurled back and forth. At this rate, I'd thought Drum would be glad to see the back of Bambi and wave her off the yard. But the next day they had made up and were all lovey-dovey again. Honestly, they were worse than my mom and Mike-the-bike when they were like that.

And today, Aunt Pam and Emily were back, and we were all anxious to see whether Bambi could pull off her horrid-pony-act. Not too much, not too little. It was going to be a tough balancing act. I think everyone was on edge.

As Cat led Bambi out of her stable, Bean, Katy, and I huddled together in Tiffany's empty stable, watching out her window.

I say watching…

“Geez, Bean,” hissed Katy, “you might as well not have a window in this stable. It's so full of grime and cobwebs.”

Bean just shrugged her shoulders.

“We should have gone in my stable,” Katy grumbled, “at least you can see through Bluey's window.”

“Shhhh,” I told her, peering through the gloom.

“Who cares about the window?” Bambi clamped her ears back along her neck and snaked her head up and down as Emily went toward her. Emily retreated behind her mother.

Poor
Emily
, I thought, my conscience bothering me.

“Well done, Bambi!” Katy whispered ruthlessly.

“I thought you said you couldn't see anything!” Bean whispered, miffed.

I looked across to Moth's stable, opposite, where James and Dee were hiding and spying out of Moth's window. All the ponies were in the field, although I knew Drummer would be at the gate, waiting for Bambi to be turned out again when Aunt Pam and Emily had gone.

Aunt Pam took Bambi from Cat and went toward the school again, with Emily trailing along beside her. Bambi jogged a bit, acting like a hyped-up Derby favorite in the parade ring, her quarters swinging from side to side as she arched her neck and snorted.

“Whatever is up with you, Bam-Bam?” we heard Aunt Pam ask her. As soon as the trio were out of sight, we all had a powwow in the yard.

“Do you really think this will work?” asked Cat, biting her nails.

“Yeah, of course!” James said breezily.

Bean narrowed her eyes and clapped her hands. “Let's go and watch,” she said, with all the gory enthusiasm of a citizen of Ancient Rome off to watch gladiators in the Coliseum.

“Oooh yes!” Dee agreed, and we cautiously made our way around the corner to watch from the barn.

Obviously I was the only one to feel for Emily.

“I can't watch,” Cat told us, turning around and going back to the stables. “It's too painful.”

We could only see half of the school from there, but Drummer could see all of it from the field gate, and I heard him shouting encouragement to Bambi.

“Why don't you put in a bit of a buck there?” I heard him cry, followed by an Emily-sounding squeal as Bambi put his suggestion into practice. Bambi's brown and white form came into view at the C end, and we saw Aunt Pam holding Emily's left leg as Bambi danced about a bit on the end of her lead rein. Not too much, just enough to make it uncomfortable. There was really never any chance of Emily falling off, but it certainly couldn't have been at all enjoyable.

Suddenly, Cat was at our side.

“I thought it was too painful to watch?” asked Katy.

“More painful not to,” Cat explained, pulling a face. Another circuit, more suggestions from Drummer, more squeaking from Emily.

“I hope she's not overdoing it,” Cat muttered, still chewing her nails. At least she seemed to have some sympathy for her small cousin.

“I'm sure she isn't,” Katy assured her soothingly.

“Emily sounds pretty spooked,” said James.

“Poor Emily,” Bean sympathized, softening. “I hope we don't put her off riding altogether.”

Bambi came back into view. Aunt Pam was riding her.

“Uh-oh,” said James.

Cat groaned. “She's going to tell Bambi off, isn't she?” she said.

But Bambi, egged on by Drummer, was giving Aunt Pam a much harder time than she had Emily and was plunging, shaking her head and lifting her back end in miniature bucks, all the time squealing and snorting.

“Go, Bambi!” encouraged Drummer.

“She sounds like a dragon!” Dee giggled.

“Brilliant, Bambi!” Katy agreed.

“Aunt P can't possibly want to have her back now,” said James.

The pair disappeared from view again, and we all looked at one another. Our plan seemed to be going perfectly. Bambi was being bad, but not mad or dangerous, and even Aunt Pam wasn't getting an easy ride. Surely she'd think twice about having her darling Bam-Bam back at home at this rate.

After ten minutes or so, we heard the gate to the school open.

“Quick, Cat, get back to the stables!” Dee said, giving Cat a shove. Cat sped off back to Bambi's stable to offer an innocent greeting to her returning relatives, and we all huddled in the barn so we wouldn't be seen.

“That seemed to go well,” James said, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction.

“I hope so,” I said. “Bambi certainly got the idea.”

“Yup, problem solved,” Dee agreed. “I bet Aunt Pam will be only too happy to let Cat keep Bambi now that she's proved how unsuitable she is for young Emily.”

“Shhhh!” hissed Katy, her finger to her lips. “Isn't that the sound of Aunt P's car running?”

We raced around to the stable and leaned over Bambi's half door to gape at Cat and her pony.

“Well?” asked James.

“Wasn't Bambi genius?” said Bean.

“Yeah, well done, Bambi!” I told her.

Bambi snorted. “Yeah, I think I did a pretty good job,” she said, shaking her head.

“Has your Aunt Pam changed her mind, then?” asked Dee.

“Not exactly,” Cat said, making a face.

“Why, what did she say?” I asked her. We'd gone all congratulatory too soon, it appeared.

“She said I needed to cut Bambi's feed and that she'd be back next week to ride her again,” Cat said. “My Aunt Pam was not impressed. She said I'd let her darling Bam-Bam get bad habits and that she would have to—in her words—straighten her out.”

“What does that mean?” asked Bambi, her eyes wide.

“Don't worry,” I said soothingly.

“Don't worry!” exploded Cat. “Don't worry! How would you like it if she'd threatened to straighten Drummer out?”

“I was talking to Bambi,” I mumbled.

“I am worried!” Bambi said, looking very worried. “I don't like the sound of being straightened out. Let her straighten you out!”

“Oh dear,” said Katy, her mouth like an upside-down banana.

“Whoops!” Dee added.

“Whoops! Whoops! Is that all you lot can come up with,
whoops
?” Bambi said, shaking her head, her ears flat against her mane. “Whose brilliant idea was this?”

I couldn't remember. I just knew it hadn't been mine. I told the others what Bambi had said.

“Sorry,” mumbled Bean. “Only, in my defense, I hadn't actually realized I'd had the idea—someone else picked it up and ran with it.”

“Who?” asked Bambi, looking around at everyone.

“Who?” I repeated because nobody could hear her but me.

No one owned up. Everyone looked in different directions, or at the floor, or suddenly found their finger nails riveting. No one was taking credit for that one—not any more. My heart sank as I realized Drummer would have something to say when Bambi gave him an update. And because I was the only one who could hear him, I was going to get it in the neck. I wondered how it would be if I left Epona at home for a few days.

Suddenly, another car came along the drive and pulled up outside Mrs. Collins's house. We all made like nosy neighbors, turning to take a good look as the engine was turned off.

I
know
that
car
, I thought, frowning.

“Wow, fantastic car!” breathed James, as the doors opened and a man and a woman got out of the red sports number, slamming the doors shut again and waving at me.

“Who's that?” asked Cat.

“That,” I replied, wondering just how much further my heart could sink before dropping out onto the yard, “is my dad and his girlfriend.”

“Yoo-hoo, Pia!” gurgled Skinny Lynny, her blond hair tied up in a messy ponytail, her body poured into a skin-tight T-shirt and yellow jeans. They both came over and gave me unnecessary hugs.

“Hi, Pia. We thought we might see you here,” said my dad.

Strange
thing
to
say
, I thought. Why else would they be here if not to see me? And that in itself was a bit odd. I mean, they don't make a habit of dropping in unannounced—thank goodness.

“Er, hi,” I said, confused.

“We're here to look at a plot,” said Skinny, crinkling her nose up as she gave me the benefit of her cutest smile. It might work on my dad, but it cuts no ice with me. I just stared back at her.

“Plot?” I asked.
As
in
lost
it
, I presumed.

“That's right,” said my dad, nodding and looking around. “We saw the notice for the new houses here, and we thought we'd take a look with a view to buying—you know, get in early and get a bargain price. Apparently the view is amazing!”

“It will be like living in the country!” giggled Skinny. “Come on, Paul. Let's go and take a look at where plot two will be—unless you've really got your heart set on the barn conversion, but I still think the view from plot two will be better. Bring the flyer.”

Icy fingers clutched at my heart and hauled it back up off the yard and into my mouth. They couldn't be serious! As the pair of them wandered off to lean over the gate and gaze out at the ponies' field, picturing a new idyllic life in the country with floral aprons and freshly baked bread, I could feel everyone's eyes upon me.

“That's the end!” said Katy. “Don't tell me people are going to be coming up to view where they want their houses to be!”

“They've got nothing to do with me!” I protested, wishing it were true.

“They're the people who are going to live in the barn!” wailed Bean. “The ones with a sports car in the garage where Drummer's stable is now!”

Anger bubbled up inside me. Not only did Skinny Lynny have my dad, but she now wanted our barn and Drummer's stable.

I wish I'd saved my sash to strangle her with.