All the King's Horses (19 page)

‘– Would you please leave Mr Godalmighty Crewes out of it?’

He sighed. ‘What I was
trying
to
say
was, research – this story – shows that Jenny is one of Them, and …’ He shifted uncomfortably. ‘Well, she
did
go to the Gordons’. And she’d never protect him like that if They didn’t have some kind of interest in him, right?’

‘OK, OK,’ I said. ‘But what kind of interest can They have?’

‘Beats me. That’s what I came to talk about. We need more research. Which means …’

‘… Faerie.’

He nodded, and we both sat still, listening to the rain outside.

‘There might be another way,’ I said, finally. ‘This rain should melt all those disgusting drifts by the entrance ramp, so we can get to the Ring again. Maybe we can talk to Cathbad or somebody and … er … well, we’ve never actually
asked
Them what’s going on.’

‘What if They get sore, or send us to Faerie instead of answering?’

‘We could start by telling Them – extra politely – that we’d rather stay here.’

‘OK.’ He drew a deep breath. ‘I suppose we could try it Saturday.’

‘Not Saturday,’ I said. ‘Dandy’s coming on Thursday, remember? And we promised Tiffany we’d watch her ride him on Saturday.’

‘Oh, sure,’ he said quickly. ‘Maybe Sunday, then.’

‘Yeah.’

He sat there a little longer, clicking his flashlight on and off. When he went away, I had a feeling we weren’t going to do it on Sunday, either.

Tiffany didn’t say much on the bus the next day, but I would have known Dandy was coming even if I hadn’t been counting the days with her. Ever since Christmas, she’d been losing that timid look, and her smile had started being a real one. She was doing better in school, too; just before the holidays, she’d gotten an A on a math test, and Miss Turner had moved her up a group. I heard her tell one of the other teachers it was a miracle, but I knew better.

Anyway, with three days still to go, Tiffany
was
looking happier than I’d ever seen her, and on Wednesday when we got out to the storm drain, she could hardly sit still. ‘Gwen called the Gordons to make last-minute arrangements last night,’ she said, smiling all over. ‘He’s coming tomorrow morning at ten. I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it!’

‘You’ll believe it soon enough,’ I said, trying not to smile back. ‘Starting tomorrow night, you’ll have three horses to shovel for, not two.’

‘Oh, that’s OK,’ she said. ‘I’ll shovel, and I’ll brush him for a whole hour every day, and I’ll clean his tack, and I’ll pick out his hooves, and I’ll pull his mane once a week, and …’ She went on and on, all bubbly and not like Tiffany at all.

The next day, she wasn’t on the bus, which didn’t surprise me a bit; if I’d been getting a horse at ten, there’s no way I would have gone to school. Even as it was, I might as well have been at the Gordons’ as in class; I kept looking at the clock and thinking of Dandy leaving his old stable with Gwen, or unloading at the Gordons’, or settling in his new stall while Tiffany watched. On the bus, Colin and I talked about getting off at the stop two after ours and nipping down to the barn, but we decided Mom would have a heart attack between the time we didn’t show up at home and the time we called from
the
Gordons’, so we just went home.

‘It’s all right,’ said Colin. ‘She’ll tell us all about it tomorrow.’

But when tomorrow came and we raced up the bus steps, Tiffany didn’t even look up. Colin and I blinked at each other; then he took the seat in front of her and turned around, and I sat next to her, but even though she must have known we were there, she didn’t say a word.

‘What do you suppose happened?’ whispered Colin as we got off.

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I’ll try to find out at recess.’

But at recess, Tiffany dawdled all the way to the storm drain, and after we crawled in, she just sat there. Finally, I couldn’t stand it any more. ‘Tiffany, what’s the matter?’

She didn’t say anything.

‘Gwen didn’t decide to sell Dandy or something, did she?’

She shook her head.

‘Then he’s at the Gordons’? And he’s OK?’

‘I think so,’ she said, so low I could hardly hear her.

‘You think so! You mean, you weren’t there?’

She shook her head. ‘My parents don’t want me to go to the Gordons’ any more.’

I stared at her. ‘Not ever?’

‘That’s what they said.’

I could hardly believe it. ‘But … but don’t they know about Dandy?’

‘That’s why. Because of Dandy. I told them about him Wednesday night. And they said I couldn’t go any more.’

‘You mean, they were angry because you hadn’t told them before?’

‘I’d told them before. So had Mrs Gordon.’

‘Then what were they angry about?’

‘They said I was their kid, and the Gordons didn’t have any right to get a good horse for me, so I couldn’t go back.’

I tried to make sense of that, but I couldn’t. Finally I said, ‘Well, you said they didn’t like your going to the Gordons’ before, but they let you go after a while. They’ll probably change their minds this time, too.’

‘No, they won’t.’ She looked up with the smile I hadn’t seen since Christmas. ‘Don’t look so upset,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘It does, too, matter!’

She shook her head. ‘It really doesn’t matter what happens to me.’

And that was all she’d say.

After recess Mrs Turner sent my reading group to the library to work on reports, and as I finished checking out my books, Mr Crewes came in. I
started
out the door, trying to act as if I hadn’t seen him, the way I always did, but he caught my elbow.

‘Sarah, come into the conference room. I want to talk to you.’

Of course I couldn’t say no, so I followed him. He closed the door carefully. ‘Tiffany looks very unhappy,’ he said. ‘Do you know if something’s wrong?’

‘I … I don’t think she wants anybody to know.’

‘But you know?’

I thought of saying I didn’t, but that seemed wrong, so I nodded.

‘Sarah,’ he said, ‘I don’t want to make you tell me something you promised not to, but you need to understand. Some children’s parents don’t treat them the way parents ought to—’

‘– Sure. It’s called child abuse.’

It didn’t sound very polite the way I said it, but he just raised his eyebrows and went on. ‘OK. If a teacher suspects one of his students has been abused, he can report it to authorities, and they’ll check up on it. Sometimes it makes a big difference to a kid who has had a terrible time and not dared to tell anyone. So if you think not telling me what happened to Tiffany will help her in the long run, think about it once more.’

I did think about it, and all of a sudden, I remembered how he’d helped us with Grandpa on the playground that day, and how he’d gotten Colin into his class, and … well, whatever else you might think of him, he was good at solving problems. So I told him all about Tiffany’s riding, and how she’d finally gotten a good horse, and what her parents had done. When I got to the end, I swallowed hard and I said I’d appreciate it if he could do something.

He gave me a funny look. ‘I’ll sure try,’ he said. ‘I’ll talk to Tiffany at lunch, and if I find out anything that makes me a candidate for your appreciation, I’ll let you know when I come over this evening.’

I felt a little better as I went back to class, even though I wished he’d been angrier at Tiffany’s parents – and Mom hadn’t told us he was planning to come over. As it turned out, he didn’t stay very long; Grandpa decided he didn’t belong there, and when Grandpa decided that sort of thing, it was hard to talk him out of it. This time, he made such a fuss that Mr Crewes finally said he’d come back another time. But before he left, he took Colin and me out on the porch. ‘I talked to Tiffany,’ he said, ‘and I hate to say it, but I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.’

‘There’s got to be!’ said Colin. ‘She couldn’t
even
talk on the way home! She just stared out the window, like she was in some sort of trance.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘But unfortunately, you can’t get a kid away from her parents because they’ve made her unhappy. You’ve got to be able to prove they’ve hurt her physically.’

‘Oh,’ I said, suddenly remembering. ‘Mrs Gordon said something about that, the first time we went over there. Does that mean nobody can help her? Not you or the Gordons or us or anyone who cares about her?’

Mr Crewes looked out at the streetlight. ‘I’m afraid it does,’ he said finally. ‘At least it means nobody can make the law work for her, but—’

‘– That’s crummy!’ Colin exploded. ‘For Pete’s sake, why do we have laws if they don’t help people out?’

Mr Crewes looked at him. ‘What I was going to say was, there are ways we can help that don’t have anything to do with law. Counselling, for instance.’

‘A lot of good that’ll do!’ muttered Colin. ‘Social workers don’t have craniums.’

Mr Crewes tried not to smile. ‘They’ve helped a lot of kids, Colin.’

‘OK, OK.’

‘And you two and I will just have to try to get her out of herself. I know it doesn’t sound like
much,
but it’s important.’ He looked at us both carefully. ‘Do you understand?’

We nodded.

‘You’re good kids,’ he said, and I was afraid he was going to put an arm around us. But he didn’t. ‘Good night,’ he said. ‘See you Monday.’

We went to the Gordons’ on Saturday – without Grandpa, though Mom had usually driven him there with us before, because he’d caught a cold, and she was worried about him. It was probably just as well; the Gordons were really upset. Mrs Gordon was one of those women you see a lot of if you know horse people; she had this strict, determined face, and I’d always been a little afraid of her. But that weekend, she cried and cried, and it hit me for the first time that they didn’t have any kids, and it was more than the riding that made Tiffany important to them. Then, of course, there was Dandy in his stall, beautiful and friendly and wanting attention. Colin and I padded around as quietly as we could, mucking out, cleaning tack, and brushing horses; the Gordons said that helped a lot, but none of us smiled the whole time we were there.

The next week, it was even worse. Tiffany didn’t look up when we got on the bus, and she didn’t answer when we tried to talk to her.
Some
of the kids started to tease her, and we shut them up, but that was about all we could do. In class, she dreamed off all day, looking out the window and smiling. She still went out to the storm drain with me, but all she’d do was sit there, smiling that terrible sweet smile, and looking out the opening. I tried everything I could think of – talking, not talking, suggesting we play tether-ball, telling jokes – but nothing worked.

‘Tell you what,’ said Colin when I told him. ‘Let’s ask her over, and when she comes, we can go to the Gordons’. Her parents will think she’s at our house, and—’

‘– What if they find out and beat her up?’

‘Then Mr Crewes can get her out of there,’ he said, half-meaning it.

That’s where we left the idea, but by Friday I was so desperate I decided to try it. ‘Tiffany,’ I said, ‘would you like to come over to our house tomorrow?’

She looked out the bus window. ‘My parents won’t let me go anywhere. They say I’ll sneak off to the Gordons’.’

I glanced over my shoulder at Colin, wondering if he felt as cheap as I did. ‘What if our mom called your parents and said we were just going to be around the house all afternoon?’

Tiffany didn’t answer, but just before we got to our stop, she scribbled a number on a scrap of paper and gave it to me. That evening, Mom made the call; and when she came back downstairs, she looked sore.

‘Well,’ she said. ‘Tiffany’s parents have said she can come tomorrow afternoon
if
she comes on her bike (not our car) and
if
they can call her here every half hour.’ She shook her head. ‘And I thought you were exaggerating when you told me how they were. Poor Tiffany.’

Poor Tiffany was about it. It was rainy on Saturday, and her jeans and sneakers were soaked when she got to our house. Luckily, she was the same size I was, so we could fix that fast enough, but that wasn’t the real problem. It wasn’t exactly that she didn’t want to do anything – she said of course she’d love to put on a play, and of course she’d like to see the costume closet in the attic – it was that when we started doing it, she drifted off. The costumes were great (we’d been collecting them for years), and I was sure we could have gotten her involved in them if we’d had her to ourselves, but with her parents calling every half hour, it was impossible – especially since the phone upset Grandpa, and we had to dash down from the attic to get to it before he did. The last time it rang, we were too
late;
just as we got there, he yanked the phone out of the wall by the roots, and stomped down the back stairs with its cord trailing behind him. Tiffany jumped back with her hands over her mouth, and her eyes made me wonder if maybe her parents didn’t hit her, but Mom put an arm around her.

‘It’s OK, dear,’ she said sadly. ‘He wants to stop the phone from ringing, and he’s forgotten how to answer it. There’s another phone downstairs. I’ll call your parents right away.’

She hurried down the front stairs, and we heard her dialling. But we also heard the side door slam, and when we ran to the window, we saw Grandpa striding up the little hill between us and the Ring, still carrying the phone.

‘Criminy!’ said Colin. ‘We’ve got to catch him!’ And we all dashed downstairs.

‘Sure you want to come?’ I asked Tiffany as we ran up the hill. ‘You’ll get wet again.’

‘That’s all right,’ she said, ‘it’s my fault he went out.’

I was just going to say it wasn’t, when we got to the top of the rise, and she peered ahead through the drizzle. ‘Oh!’ she said. ‘I know this place! My dad stops off here to give stuff to a friend of his. Gosh! Your grandfather’s almost at the entrance ramp! Suppose he—’

And she took off, jumping over old tyres and piles of junk. You’d never have thought Tiffany could run like that, but she was over the second guard rail by the time we got to the first. Grandpa ducked behind a refrigerator when he saw her; she stopped the way she would have if he had been a horse, and held out one hand coaxingly. Right in the middle of the Ring.