Taking Flight (15 page)

Chapter 26

VICKY

All week I'd been avoiding Fliss and Becca – or they'd been avoiding me – but when I went to get a drink after my Science exam on Thursday there they were at the vending machine and there was no escape without looking like a total sap.

‘Oh. My. God.' Fliss's usually perfect hair was greasy and stringy – evidence that she'd been running her hands through it in despair for the past two hours. ‘That was the worst exam I have
ever
done.
And
after two hours of French! It's cruelty!' I didn't know if she'd seen me or not.

Becca fired a pound coin into the vending machine and bent down to retrieve a bottle of water. ‘I hate Science. Can't wait to give it up.'

I leaned against the vending machine and decided to have a go. After all, it had been a stupid quarrel, not worth breaking friends over. ‘The Physics was the worst. I didn't mind the Chemistry.'

‘No way. The Chemistry was, like,
impossible
,' said Becca in her normal voice.

‘Come on Becs,' said Fliss. ‘Niamh is waiting for us.'

I sighed and pulled my blazer round me. Becca would make friends, if I could get her on her own – she was too sweet to like falling out with anyone – but Fliss could keep a fight going for ages. And it wasn't
fair;
I wasn't jealous. Or poisonous. Or any of those things.
They
were.

I glumped home on my own, trying to remember History dates all the way along the Lisburn Road. I remembered Declan asking me my History. It seemed much longer than a week ago. Life at home had snapped right back to what it was before he came. But it was
so
lovely never having to wait for the bathroom, never coming into a room to find Mum deep in conversation, never having to look at his sulky face across the dinner table. And Mum could say what she liked –
she'd
been in a really good mood since he moved out too. It was just … I wished he wasn't at the yard. I remembered his hands on Flight's reins last Saturday. The way Flight rubbed his head against him – he'd
never
done that to me. Ever.

‘You're late, darling,' Mum said, as I walked up the drive. She was putting something in the car. ‘You nearly missed me.'

‘I know.' I put my schoolbag down. ‘The Science exam went on forever. But it didn't seem as bad as usual.'

‘Probably that revision Rory was doing with you last night?'

‘Yeah, he's dead good at explaining stuff.' I thought I might have managed an A in Science for the first time ever. When Rory had offered to go over my Science with me I'd thought we could just do a wee bit of revision and kind of enjoy ourselves the rest of the time – we were in the dining room, and Mum was upstairs on the computer – but he'd taken it really seriously and hadn't let me lose
concentration at all. I was starting to realise he was a pretty serious guy – it was probably having all those younger brothers and sisters. As long as he was serious about
me
I wasn't complaining!

‘Fliss and Becca getting on OK with their exams?' Not for the first time I wished she didn't know me so well. I hadn't told her we'd fallen out but she must have guessed something.

‘I think so. Where are you going, anyway?'

‘To see Theresa and Declan – well, I'm going out for dinner later, but I wanted to call in to them on the way. I have a birthday present for Declan.'

‘I didn't know it was his birthday.'

‘It's next week, really. And to be honest, it gives me an excuse to call without Theresa thinking I'm checking up on her.'

‘Oh. You never used to get him a birthday present.'

‘Well, no, but it's different now, isn't it?'

I didn't answer.

‘Look, love, I'd better go – want to get there before the traffic's totally impossible. There's some of last night's chilli in the fridge.'

‘OK.' I didn't say ‘Give my love to Declan.' I picked up my bag and went in. The kitchen felt cold and empty. I looked at the chilli in the fridge and decided I wasn't in the mood for it. I didn't want to revise for History on my own. I might have texted Becca if only Fliss hadn't snubbed me at the vending machine. I dragged out my History books and sat staring at them. At least there was only one more day of exams – English and History – and then on Saturday night Rory was taking me to one of his friends' eighteenth birthday party, which somehow seemed a really grown-up thing to be going to. And it was
only just over a week until the final and Flight was going better than ever. So there was a lot to look forward to. I couldn't understand why I felt so – I tried to work out what it was –
unsettled
. Must be pre-menstrual, I decided, getting up to put the kettle on.

It was only later, after she'd come in, that I realised I hadn't asked Mum who she'd gone out to dinner with.

* * *

‘Morning, Vicky.' Fiona turned round from spooning some revolting sort of mush into a wriggling, head-twisting Molly who bashed her hands on the tray of her high chair and shrieked with delight when she saw me.

‘Hi Fi. Hi Molly.' I yawned and felt the teapot on the Aga.

‘It's just made,' said Fiona. ‘Good girl, Molly-moo.'

‘Molly-
who
?' I wrinkled my nose and took a mug out of the dishwasher.

‘I know.' Fiona laughed. ‘I said no baby talk but …' She changed the subject. ‘You're late this morning.'

‘Tired after my mocks. Can't wait to see Flight.' I put some bread in the toaster.

She lifted Molly's bib to wipe her face and Molly screamed. ‘This is the last weekend before the final, isn't it?'

‘Yeah. I wrote about it yesterday in my English exam. “Describe the proudest achievement of your life.” I did it all about us going to Dublin and winning the championship. It was really descriptive. I think I should get an A star.'

‘But it hasn't happened yet!' Fiona sounded horrified.

‘I couldn't resist it. Anyway,' I pressed the button and caught my toast, ‘Flight's jumping like a champion. I
can't wait to ride him today. Why don't you come with me? We could go on the farm trail again.'

‘And what about this monster? I can't exactly strap her to my back.'

‘Oh. What about Dad?'

‘He's playing golf.' Then she said the stupidest thing I'd ever heard in my life. ‘Why don't you get Declan to go with you? He can take Joy. I've told Cam he can exercise her whenever he likes.'

‘What? But he's a beginner. And what about Sally?'

‘Sally doesn't have time at weekends. And he's a very
good
beginner, Vicky. Cam says it's a long time since she taught anyone with so much potential. She really thinks a lot of him.'

‘Who thinks a lot of me?' Dad came in, dressed for golf in a very dodgy jumper.

‘Ha ha. No, I was saying to Vicky, Cam thinks a lot of Declan. And it's quite unlike her – she doesn't really get close to people.'

‘What d'you mean?' I asked.

Fiona handed Molly to me and I let her pull at my collar a bit. ‘You know how she is – keeps to herself. Runs the business brilliantly but keeps the customers – even people like me who've been there for years – at a distance. Have you ever been in her house?'

I shook my head.

‘Nor me. But Declan has. She brings him in for a cup of tea before he starts work. Says he could do with it after the walk from the bus stop.'

‘Huh.'

‘Well, I think it's nice. She must have been so lonely losing her family like that.'

‘It was a car crash, wasn't it?' It was kind of common
knowledge at the yard, but at the same time no one ever gossiped about it, at least never to me.

‘Joyriders,' said Dad with a sort of satisfied look at Fiona. ‘The sort of scum Fi's all for giving second chances to. Three of them in a stolen car. Came onto the M1 without looking.'

‘But
don't
talk about it at the yard,' Fiona warned.

‘Of course I won't.' But my mind was whirling. Cam's family killed by
joyriders
– I wondered if Declan knew that. I wondered if she'd be so keen on him if she knew about his own little escapade. I wouldn't
tell
her, of course. I just wondered.

* * *

The yard was quiet. Cam was teaching, but when I went to the big shed to get Flight I stopped at the sound of a soft voice talking affectionate nonsense.

‘Good boy, let's see that hoof, you're enjoying that, aren't you?'

Sounded like old Jim. I stopped in the doorway. Flight was tied up outside his stable and Declan was grooming him. The electric light was on and his coat gleamed like burnished copper. He was resting a hoof, head down, totally relaxed, ears flickering back and forwards at Declan's voice. Jealousy punched me in the guts. He
never
stood like that for me.

‘What are you doing?'

‘Oh.' He looked a bit embarrassed to be caught out talking to a horse. ‘Cam asked me to groom him.'

‘Well, I'm here now. I'll take over,' I said. I knew I should say thanks. He handed me the body brush and went away. I ran my hand over Flight's shoulder and it was like silk.

‘Can I get in to muck out?' It was Declan with a wheelbarrow. I straightened up and he pushed past me into the stable and started forking up the dung. I leaned over the half-door to watch. I wanted to be able to find fault with him – after all, Dad was
paying
for this – but he was annoyingly quick and competent. I took out my irritation by yanking the plastic curry comb through Flight's tail, which was full of mud – obviously Declan hadn't got that far. In seconds my eyes were full of tiny mud-specks.

‘He looks great.' Declan paused and looked out.

‘Hmm,' I said. Like I needed
him
to tell me how my horse looked!

‘Are you going to jump him? Only Cam's got a lesson so the school's not –'

‘I know.'

‘I was only saying.'

I fetched Flight's tack, making a mental note to take it home for cleaning. This time next week would be the final – and the end of term – and nearly Christmas. And Rory was taking me to a party tonight. I knew I was being stupid to let myself get annoyed about Declan being all over Flight. Because at the end of the day, whatever fuss Cam made of him,
he
was always going to be the one shovelling the shit, while
I
was the one saddling up my four-thousand-pound horse.

Declan pushed out past me again and for the first time I noticed that he was wearing proper riding boots instead of the steeky trainers he usually wore. He caught me looking.

‘Your mum got me them,' he said, even though I hadn't asked. ‘Early birthday present.'

‘Oh.' I couldn't think of anything to say to that.

‘She's in great form, isn't she?'

I shrugged. ‘Yeah, I suppose she has been in extra good form this week.' And if you think I'm hinting that it's because
you're
not around any more, then good! I thought.

But that's not what he thought.

‘As long as he's worth it,' he said, brushing up the front of the bed. ‘None of my mum's ever have been. But then – a teacher at the university. That sounds OK, doesn't it?'

Something cold opened out inside me. I swallowed. ‘What are you talking about?'

‘This Brian. Is he nice? Have you met him yet?'

I'm going out to dinner later
. And last week it was the cinema. And I had been too stupid to work it out. But she'd told
him
.

The bottom fell out of my stomach. I hauled on Flight's stirrup leathers, grabbed my hat and pushed past Declan and out of the barn. Without waiting to warm up I kicked the surprised Flight into a trot and belted out of the yard.

Chapter 27

DECLAN

From the battering of Flight's hooves on the concrete I can tell Vicky's stormed off.

I go back to mucking out. Flight's bed looks perfect – even Jim grunts less at my beds now – so I push the wheelbarrow next door to Nudge's, which is bogging as usual.

What's her problem? Does she hate Colette's boyfriend? I thought she'd be
less
nasty now I wasn't living in her house, not
more
. Maybe she's just raging at her mum having a boyfriend. I wonder when Colette told her. She didn't exactly tell me – I just overheard her talking to Mum about it.

But I'm trying not to think about Mum. She wasn't up when I left the house this morning but last night she was all sort of, ‘Och, son, would you really be bothered heading away up there on a Saturday? It's awful far,' and I kind of know she'd rather I stuck around home. I sigh and scoop up a big pockle of shit with the fork.

Vicky can be as mean as she likes; she's
not
going to
spoil being here for me. She's only ever here to ride Flight anyway – rides him and goes home or back to her da's or wherever. Like he's just some toy she can pick up and put down. There'll be hours and hours every weekend when she'll be nowhere in sight and I can just get on with it. Get on with
my job
. All week the thought of coming here has kept me going. Kept me working when the words on the page were dancing and blurring. Kept me in the house every night with that clingy look in Mum's eyes.

I've read all that stuff about the tech so often that I know it off by heart. And sometimes I can't believe it's anything to do with me. Other times, like now, finishing off Nudge's bed, noticing that it's taken me a quarter of the time it used to, hearing the noise of hooves and Cam shouting orders in the school and just breathing in that warm, damp horsey smell, I know this is the right place for me to be. And Mum can sigh and Vicky can sulk as much as they like.

Girls are weird anyway. Like Seaneen. Haven't been able to shake her off for weeks – Thursday night she
kissed
me, for God's sake, and then yesterday she just stuck her nose in the air and bounced out the door with Kevin.

‘Declan?' It's Cam. ‘How are you getting on?'

‘Just Joy's and then that's me.'

She looks into Nudge's stable and smiles. ‘We'll send you off to college knowing how to muck out anyway.' I like the way she says this, like it's a definite thing. ‘OK,' she goes on. ‘I'm heading out to pick up some rugs from the cleaners soon. You'll be OK on your own? When you finish here, can you groom and tack up Sparky and Hero?'

‘Yeah.' She trusts me. Vicky can just piss off, jealous bitch.

I make an extra effort with Joy's bed, because Cam said Fiona's offered to let me ride her any time I want, and Cam says that's fine as long as I have all my work done first. ‘When the lighter nights come in the spring, you could head off into the farm trail after work.' I can't wait. Being out there in the fields with a horse and no one else, looking over at the mountains – it must be wicked. Like being a cowboy. Princess Vicky doesn't know how lucky she is.

When she clatters back into the yard she doesn't look like she thinks she's lucky. Flight's foamy with sweat and he shifts and fidgets when she flings herself off, like he feels her bad mood.

I pull down the clean shavings from round the edges and spread them over the bed. Vicky's face, red-cheeked, appears over the half-door.

‘Sucking up to Fiona now? You don't really think you'll be able to ride Joy, do you? Face it, Declan. You're only here to do the dirty work.'

I bite down hard on my lip, the way I do when Emmet McCann tries to wind me up. Don't let her get to me. She'll be out of here in half an hour, until tomorrow. This isn't about me. It's about Brian.

But I can't help my hands tightening on the fork.

She smiles when I don't answer – not a real smile – then starts talking in this dead ordinary, conversational voice, ‘Do you know how Cam's parents died?'

I set the fork on top of the wheelbarrow and start brushing back the bed. ‘Yeah,' I mutter. What's that got to do with anything?

She scratches Flight's sweaty face. ‘They were killed in a car crash.'

‘
So
?'

‘
So
guess who caused it –
joyriders
.' She says it carefully like it's a foreign word she's just come across.

My breath shudders in my throat.

‘Yeah,' she goes on.
Joyriders
. Surprised you didn't know that. But then Cam doesn't know much about you, either, does she?'

I grab the broom handle tighter in my suddenly sweaty hands.

‘Well, not
yet
,' says Vicky. She gives that smile that isn't a smile again.

Just concentrate on sweeping and breathing. Breathing and sweeping. She wouldn't do it; she's only trying to scare me.

‘Vicky!' Cam's voice flits through the open door of the barn. ‘I'm leaving now. Come if you're coming.'

‘Don't go without me!' shouts Vicky, all sweetness. ‘I've got something important to tell you.'

She throws Flight's reins at me. ‘Since you're still working here – well, for now – you can put him out for me.' And she leaves without another word.

For a few moments all I can do is lean against Flight and swallow down rage. I breathe in the salty, hot tang of him. Leather and sweat and something sweet and alive that's just horse. I never smelled that smell until three weeks ago and now it's as familiar as cigarette smoke.

But it's over.

I know it is.

Who have I been kidding? ‘Course you can do it,' Mr Dermott kept on saying. ‘You're not stupid.' But I am stupid. Stupid to have believed in this.

Every second I stand here Vicky's telling Cam.

Flight whiffles in my ear and cocks his tail. Automatically
I go for a shovel. I hear her voice in my ear: ‘That's all you're good for – shovelling shit.'

Flight rubs his nose against my arm, leaving a trail of snot. I look at him standing there, tack on, stirrups not even run up. Ready.

I don't have a conscious thought. It's like the night Emmet came to the door and said, ‘Look what I got!' And the engine still running in the Peugeot 306 in the street. And Gran in the living-room, and me knowing she wasn't well, and thinking, it's not up to me, Mum should have stayed in herself if she was that bothered. And Emmet laughing, ‘Come on, man. You up for it or not?' And me pulling the door closed behind me and saying, ‘Aye, might as well.'

Next thing my foot's in the stirrup and I'm swinging my leg over his back. He grunts in surprise when I yank him round, out of the yard and across the road to the farm trail.

‘Come on!' I push him on and on, up the hill. He swings along in a powerful trot that eats up the path. We get to a downhill and I feel myself slipping and bouncing in the saddle. Sit back, I remember Cam telling me. Sit deep, feel the reins, and the horse will slow down. But this horse doesn't want to slow down. Ragged and juddering we career down the hill like a skateboard with a wonky wheel. It shakes the crap out of me.

The ground flattens and Flight lunges himself into a mad canter. I grab his mane and my arse finds its way back to the middle of the saddle. This is better than the trot. Better than running. His hooves pound the ground, striking out
last time last time last time
. For a few seconds it feels sweet, a million times faster than Kizzy. There's nothing ahead of us but the path stretching between
fields. Mud flies up from his hooves. Speed and air take over. I don't give a shit what happens. The wind whips tears from my eyes and I'm blinded for a second before they run down my cheeks. I lean forward. Flight snatches the bit and then there's speed like there's never been and the ground flows past me and I'm terrified and elated and I never want it to stop.

Something flies out of the hedge. Flight twists; there's nothing in front of me, then the ground leaps to meet me.

It whacks me so hard it forces the breath out of me. I pull myself up and look for Flight.

But the path stretches ahead, empty.

‘Fuck!' I jump up and run. My heart hammers. The ground pulls at my legs and my face burns in the cold air. Shit shit shit. Let him be OK. I don't care what she tells Cam. Just let Flight be round the next corner.

I'm running and fighting to breathe and praying and I think I can't go any further and then there's one more bend in the path and there he is, just beside the gap in the fence, head down, nosing at the undergrowth. He's fine.

My heart gives a huge leap. ‘Flight!' I cry. ‘Thank Christ!' I dash forward, my feet breaking twigs. Startled, he shies, catches his leg in his reins, and pulls back in horror.

‘Whoa, there, it's OK, boy.' I stretch out a hand but he's out of reach.

He flinches away, the reins break with a snap and next second he's ducked out through the gap. There's a car coming.

I'm right behind him but the car gets him first.

The squeal of brakes, the flash of metal and a high-pitched
scream – I never knew horses could scream. A tangle of horse and car.

And Flight's body falling through the air. His legs flail and buckle.

He gives a grunt, and then he's still.