Chocolate Box Girls: Coco Caramel (7 page)

I manage to steer clear of Lawrie Marshall
for the rest of the week at school. OK, so he thinks I’m spoilt and selfish and to
blame for Caramel being sold. So what? Why should I care what he thinks? Maybe he is
upset about Caramel, but he’s still a lowlife bully.

Besides, I am hopeful that Mum and Paddy
will make a decision about Caramel soon. I’ve been nagging Mum to ring the riding
stables, but she says it’s not something that can be decided overnight, and that
she’d need to be reassured that it would be possible to train Caramel to be
calmer, less jumpy.

Still, the fact that she is actually
considering it is good enough for me. I plan to apologize to Jean and Roy about what
happened last week, then let them know that we
are interested in buying
Caramel. Hopefully, they will talk to Mum about it when she comes to pick me up after
class – once she actually meets Caramel I am pretty sure she will be as smitten as I
am.

I am early as usual on Friday, and luckily
there is no sign of Lawrie Marshall, although a big, shiny, silver four-wheel drive with
a horsebox hitched to it is parked right across the yard. I head in towards the loos to
get changed, and as I pass the office I notice a tall, sharp-faced man in a tweedy brown
suit is in there talking to Jean and Roy. He looks kind of posh in a country landowner
kind of way, but there is a cold, no-nonsense look about him. He is probably some kind
of country vet or a salesman selling saddles and horse blankets.

As I pass, his eyes skim over me then slide
away, unimpressed.

When I emerge five minutes later to stack my
rucksack and school clothes in a locker, the tweedy guy is still there. This is very
annoying because I need to apologize and tell Jean and Roy that we might be able to buy
Caramel, as long as they don’t need to sell her in a hurry. Whatever they are
talking about must be important. Still, I suppose
it delays the dreaded
moment of having to say sorry for pulling the wool over Kelly’s eyes and trying to
convince the stable’s bosses that I should be Caramel’s new owner.
I’ll have to explain after my ride.

Out in the yard, there is still no sign of
Lawrie and I allow myself to wonder if he has switched his days at the stable to avoid
me. Better still, maybe he’s been sacked?

Kelly has saddled Bailey, a quiet strawberry
roan, for me. Bailey is the slowest, stodgiest pony at Woodlands – you could send your
ninety-three-year-old great-granny out for a ride on him and she’d probably
complain he was too dull. Still, I know better than to argue this time as Kelly hands me
the reins.

‘Have you seen Lawrie?’ she asks
me as I swing up into the saddle.

‘Sorry, no …’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’
Kelly frowns. ‘He could at least have called in if he wasn’t going to turn
up for work. He seemed so keen, but … obviously not.’

Not sacked then. Yet.

Kelly leads out Strider, one of the bigger
ponies,
mounting neatly before nudging him forward so she can unhook
the gate.

‘Jean and Roy wanted Lawrie to bring
Caramel down to the paddock, but I expect they’ll manage themselves,’ Kelly
sighs. ‘Let’s go. It’s just us today – the Dempsey kids have
chickenpox, Jake’s at the dentist and Courtney and Jenna are at a party,
so … nice and quiet! I thought we’d take a hack through the
woods.’

‘I can take Caramel down to the
paddock if you like,’ I offer. ‘I don’t mind! I could fill in for
Lawrie if you need me to, instead of a lesson. Or, if Lawrie’s quit –’

‘Not a chance,’ my instructor
says firmly, waiting for me to walk Bailey through the gate before closing it behind me.
‘Lawrie will turn up at some point, and your mum has paid for this lesson so a
lesson is what you’ll get. Jean and Roy have made it clear they don’t want
you anywhere near Caramel – you weren’t exactly truthful with me last week about
being allowed to ride her, were you?’

I hang my head.

Kelly leads us down into the woods, Strider
picking his way.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, falling
into place behind her. ‘About last week. I really didn’t mean to get you
into trouble – I was trying to help Caramel, show that she could be good and quiet and
steady. She’s my favourite pony – we have this special bond, you know? I was
trying to make sure she stayed at Woodlands.’

‘Things didn’t quite work out
then, did they?’ Kelly sighs.

‘Don’t,’ I groan.
‘Caramel is up for sale, and it’s all my fault!’

‘Don’t be too hard on
yourself,’ Kelly shrugs. ‘It probably would have happened anyway.
She’s always been a “problem” pony, and there’s no room for
difficult horses in a riding school. Jean and Roy just can’t take the
risk.’

‘Well, I’ve got a plan,’ I
say, reining Bailey into step alongside her. ‘I’ve asked my mum, and guess
what? I think we’ll probably be buying Caramel!’

Kelly looks surprised. ‘Seriously?
Your mum said that?’

I bite my lip. ‘Not exactly,’ I
hedge. ‘She said she’d think about it. Possibly. Maybe …’

Kelly rolls her eyes, and in that moment she
reminds me of my big sisters. I know she’s laughing at me.

‘Possibly?’ she echoes.
‘Maybe? That doesn’t sound too definite!’

‘It will be,’ I protest as the
ponies move steadily through the trees, hooves crunching down on twigs and dried leaves
beneath. ‘I’m working on her. I am pretty sure I can talk her
round.’

‘This is a pony we’re talking
about, Coco, not a new computer game!’ Kelly says. ‘You can’t just nag
your mum and hope she gives in. It’s a huge undertaking, a real
commitment.’

‘I know!’ I insist. ‘Of
course! I am a hundred per cent committed!’

Kelly looks at me, and her eyes reveal a
mixture of sadness and pity and exasperation. I know what she’s thinking –
it’s what people always think. That I’m too young, too silly; not to be
taken seriously.

‘I honestly don’t think
it’ll happen,’ Kelly says kindly. ‘For all kinds of reasons. Caramel
is a challenging pony – I know you love her, and you do have a good connection with her,
but you’ve seen yourself how unpredictable she
can be. She needs
an experienced owner. Jean and Roy would never sell her to a novice rider, even if your
mum really did want to buy her.’

‘I’ll talk to them,’ I
argue. ‘I’ll apologize, explain. I might not be the best rider in the world,
but … Caramel deserves a home where she’ll be loved. They have to give
me a chance, Kelly!’

‘Coco, I hate to tell you, but I think
you’re too late,’ she says. ‘It’s already sorted – that bloke in
the office is almost certainly going to buy her.’

A sharp pang of grief shoots through me,
dulling to a sad, heavy ache. I’m too late. Caramel is being sold.

‘Is there anything I can do or say to
stop it?’ I plead.

‘Doubtful,’ Kelly sighs.
‘It’s probably for the best, you know. Mr Seddon has trained horses before,
and he knows what he’s taking on – he’ll get her settled down. He’s
rich – he’s got a big house with paddocks and stables out Hartshill way.
Don’t worry, she’ll have a good life.’

I’m not so sure. I didn’t like
the look of the posh, tweedy bloke – he seemed too sharp, too cold, his lips a thin,
hard line. Besides, if he buys Caramel, I will never see her again.

My eyes well with tears and Kelly, panicking,
distracts me with a sharp burst of rising trot and a long canter across the meadows that
edge the woods. Later, as we trek back through the trees towards the stable-yard gate,
we see the shiny, silver four-wheel drive move out slowly, towing the horsebox.

I’m too late even to say
goodbye.

As I walk Bailey back to his stable, a figure
steps out of the shadows.

‘Well done, Coco,’ Lawrie
Marshall says coldly. ‘Thanks to you, Caramel belongs to that thug Seddon now.
Great stuff. Just great.’

‘Thug?’ I echo uneasily.
‘Kelly says he’s rich and knows loads about horses. She says Caramel will
have a good life with him.’

‘She obviously doesn’t know
him,’ Lawrie says.

He turns away, stepping into Caramel’s
empty stable.

‘What d’you mean, he’s a
thug?’ I demand. ‘You can’t just make accusations like that! How do
you even know?’

‘I just know, all right?’ he
scowls, shovelling dirty straw. ‘You don’t like bullies, do you?’

‘Who does?’

‘Well, a bully is exactly what Seddon
is,’ Lawrie mutters. ‘With animals, with people, with everyone.’

‘Where were you earlier then?’ I
accuse. ‘If it’s true, you could have said something, stopped it all! Jean
and Roy would never knowingly sell one of their ponies to someone like that!’

‘Something came up,’ he huffs.
‘I’ll make up the time, not that it’s any of your business.’

‘Have you told Jean and Roy what you
know about Seddon?’ I repeat.

‘What’s the point?’ he
shrugs. ‘It’s a done deal now. People like Seddon always get their
way.’

He kicks the stable door closed, leaving me
speechless.

I try to get the sharp face and cold eyes
of the posh tweedy guy out of my mind, but I can’t. Is he a rich guy who loves
horses, like Kelly said, or a thug and a bully? I imagine him riding Caramel, tugging
hard on the reins, digging his heels in, losing his temper if she is skittish.

Is he really bad news, or is Lawrie trying
to wind me up? If so, it’s working. I can’t concentrate on anything. I
have to trust Jean and Roy and Kelly. They would never let anyone
dodgy buy Caramel, I am certain of that. Then again … what if Lawrie knows
something that they don’t?

‘Maybe you could just ring Jean and
Roy, explain that we’re still interested in Caramel?’ I ask Mum. ‘In
case things go wrong with her new home.’

Mum shakes her head. ‘Coco, love,
nothing will go wrong. I’d love for you to have a pony one day … in
theory. But not the pony that threw you. And not right now. We are gearing up for the
biggest order The Chocolate Box has ever had, and we need to focus on that for a while.
Unless we do, there’ll be no money for food and bills, let alone
ponies!’

On Saturday morning I watch as endless
deliveries of raw cocoa, sugar and flavourings arrive. One of the guest bedrooms is
given over to towering piles of flat-packed boxes, ready to be assembled and filled.
Paddy has enlisted extra help from Harry, the retired bloke from the village who helped
out for three weeks back in the summer when Mum and Paddy went on their honeymoon. There
is talk of a couple of part-timers being roped in, too, until this mammoth order has
been filled.

My sisters don’t seem bothered by the
chaos. Cherry is making her own magazine for an English project at school, spreading
sketches and photos and chunks of printed-out writing across the kitchen table. Summer
is practising barre exercises against the Aga and Skye is sitting in the armchair,
sewing a 1920s-style dress from an old velvet curtain. Honey, needless to say, is still
in bed.

Normally, I would be a part of it all,
drafting out a petition about saving the Siberian white tiger or painting a banner to
protest about testing make-up on animals, but today I haven’t the heart for
anything at all. All I can think about is Caramel, my mind racing with fears and worries
and confusion.

Nobody notices that I’m upset. Nobody
notices me at all – I am practically invisible.

On impulse, I grab the phone book and look
up ‘Seddon’. There is only one entry, a listing for J. Seddon at Blue Downs
House, Hartshill. I take the old Ordnance Survey map from the living-room shelf and find
the place, not far from Hartshill and maybe five or six miles from here. So near and yet
so far.

In the cold light of day, I am pretty sure that
Caramel is fine. I am pretty sure that Lawrie Marshall is just a nasty, bitter kid who
is trying to make me feel bad because I happened to find him bullying a Year Six boy. I
try to forget Seddon’s thin-lipped scowl, his ice-blue eyes.

I can’t imagine Mr Seddon riding a
small, stocky, half-wild Exmoor pony, though. Perhaps he has bought Caramel for one of
his children? I picture Caramel being petted by a little boy with a face full of
freckles, a cute grin. He would bring her carrots and peppermints and fresh hay, but
would he know that apple slices are her favourite? Probably not.