Scout and the Mystery of the Marsh Ponies (7 page)

Chapter Ten

“I
S
anyone else wondering how many daughters Mrs Valentine has actually got?” Rosie asked as Mia ended another phone call from the numbers on Jock’s list.

They were sitting out in the field with the ponies grazing around them, coming up to them occasionally to nibble the girls’ outstretched boots. They were all enjoying their day off in the field after being turned out once Jock left the yard.

“Well, she’s either got lots of daughters…” Mia agreed, putting a tick against another name on Jock’s list.

“… who all just happen to be ill,” Charlie pointed out.

“… or one ill daughter with lots of ponies that she supposedly can’t bear to part with,” Rosie finished.

“And all the ponies just happen to be called Sunny,” Alice added quietly, standing up and scratching Scout’s withers until his top lip jutted out and he turned his head to nibble Alice’s back. “I guess that makes it easier for Mrs Valentine to remember…”

As they’d sat with the ponies after Jock left, Mia had called all the numbers he’d written down to ask the people on the list about their ponies. All five people on the list had agreed to talk, especially when Mia introduced herself. Mia and Wish had won in the showing ring all around the county, so even though the phone numbers were spread right out they’d all heard of her.

It turned out that all the people on the list had responded to adverts placed in
Pony Mad
. All the ponies had started off on permanent loan. Three ponies were still on what the owners took to be
permanent loan, although none of them had been given loan agreements. And none of them had heard from Mrs Valentine since taking on the ponies. They all said how much they’d put into the ponies, who meant even more to them after coming off the Marsh looking a bit bedraggled and scared. Mia glanced at the others as one of the owners said how well their ‘Sunny’ was starting to do at shows, and how lucky they were to have an owner like Mrs Valentine because she never interfered. Mia thanked them, then called the next number on the list.

The fourth owner told Mia she’d taken Sunny on loan just a couple of months after Alice had got Scout. This pony had already been sold. The story sounded amazingly similar to Scout’s: Mr Hackett’s daughter, Rebekah, had seen an advert and they’d met Mrs Valentine by Dragonfly Marsh. The pony had looked promising, but it was definitely in need of care and attention and lots of schooling. After they
took ‘Sunny’ on loan, Mrs Valentine had disappeared. Rebekah had clicked instantly with the pony and after lots of schooling they started to take dressage competitions by storm. Then Mrs Valentine had reappeared suddenly, announcing that ‘Sunny’ was for sale. When Mr Hackett had said that he couldn’t afford the huge price she was asking, Mrs Valentine had changed from charming to snakelike in an instant. The pony was sold, leaving Rebekah devastated.

The last number on the list provided a similar story. This time Mrs Wright took their ‘Sunny’ on loan for her son, Josh. It was his ambition to become a jockey and he patiently trained his pony until he began to win on the pony racing circuit. Mrs Wright had been infuriated when Mrs Valentine appeared and told them she was putting ‘Sunny’ up for sale for a hugely inflated price.

“She didn’t care that me and Josh had put all the money and effort in to turn him into a winner,” Mrs Wright explained with a sigh,
“so we ended up getting a bank loan to afford to keep him.”

As Mia ended the final phone call, scribbling down more information in her notebook, it confirmed their suspicions that nothing Mrs Valentine had told Alice about Scout was true, or was special to him. Mrs Valentine had no idea about the history of the pony she was selling. More to the point, she didn’t seem to care.

“One thing,” Mia said, carefully studying the rough dates she’d been given for the ponies being advertised and taken on loan. “It looks from these dates that each time one pony was taken on loan, another turned up on Dragonfly Marsh to replace it. Every two months, just like Jock said.”

“How mean’s that?” Rosie said, plucking at the grass beside her crossly. “Imagine being turned out on that huge, scary marsh without any company. Mrs Valentine really must be hardhearted, that much is clear. I feel sorry for Scarlett, having a mum like that.”

“If Scarlett even exists,” Alice said as she flumped back down on the grass after giving Scout some more fuss. “I mean, I never met her. I just heard about her from Mrs Valentine.”

“I reckon it
must
be a scam!” Mia concluded. “Mrs Valentine gets hold of cheap ponies and turns them out on Dragonfly Marsh. She doesn’t bother taking care of them, but advertises them for loan and gives the unsuspecting person who turns up to try them a sob story about why she can’t possibly sell them. They all think they’ve got the ponies for life and put everything into them!”

“That way she gets someone else to take them on, feed them up and school them,” Charlie continued, “then when they’ve improved hugely she steps in out of nowhere and announces that they’re for sale!”

“Making Mrs Valentine a fat profit in the process, without having had to do any of the work
or
spend any money herself,” Rosie said indignantly.

“And leaving lots of people broken-hearted,” Alice sighed, wishing that Scout hadn’t done so well over the summer holidays at all the shows. She was convinced now that Mrs Valentine had been keeping an eye on her from a distance, waiting for signs of serious improvement before swooping.

“And no prizes for guessing where she finds her cheap ponies,” Mia said, stroking Wish’s soft muzzle as she cropped the grass beside her.

“Roger Green Auctions,” Rosie, Alice and Charlie all piped up in unison. Wish stopped grazing for a second, her big brown eyes peeping through her long cream forelock, as she swished away a fly with her tail.

“Well, if it is,” Mia said, “we won’t have too long to wait before finding out.”

“Talking of that, what are we going to wear tomorrow?” Charlie asked, looking round at the others. “If we turn up like this, Mrs Valentine will recognise us in a second…”

“We need disguises!” Rosie exclaimed, holding her finger in the air. “And I know where we might be able to find some!”

Rosie raced into the cottage with the others following her, giggling as they thundered up the stairs. At the top Rosie stood on tiptoe and pushed a hatch door, then she pulled down a ladder and led them up into a dusty, stuffy attic. Rosie tugged a light pull and a bare bulb flashed on, swinging brightly in the eaves.

“Mum’s got some old bits and pieces in here that we might be able to use…” Rosie said, flinging open some dust-laden cardboard boxes and rummaging around in them. “There’s still loads of stuff we haven’t unpacked since we moved…”

Mia glanced around at the dust and chaos surrounding them with a look of mild horror, then carefully prised open the nearest box. She picked through the contents with the tips of her fingers, while next to her Rosie was busy throwing
the insides of another box over her shoulder in her search.

“Nice!” Charlie laughed, opening a shoebox and finding an old picture of Rosie sitting on a swing with some seriously dodgy clothes on and an even dodgier haircut, before turning her attention to a different pile.

Alice started to unwrap the newspaper around a tray of face paint.

“Ooh!” Rosie suddenly squealed, leaning over Alice’s shoulder. “Look!”

“Okay, stop right there!” Mia exclaimed, noticing at once where Rosie was looking. “There is no way I’m putting that greasy make-up on as a disguise, not for anything. Sorry, Alice.”

“I’m not talking about the make-up!” Rosie tutted, picking up the bit of paper that Alice had just dropped. “I was talking about this!”

As Mia leaned in to get a closer look, Rosie started to sneeze wildly. Mia squealed as she got sprayed, setting off Charlie and Alice.

“Rosie, we’re meant to be looking for disguises,” Charlie said when she’d recovered, “not reading bits of old newspaper.”

“But this might be important,” Rosie said as she scanned down the page. “Listen: ‘Woman Flees Following Pony-Owning Ban’! You’ll never guess who it is!”

“Mrs Valentine?” Alice said hopefully, trying to see what Rosie was reading.

“Guess again,” Rosie said, looking round at each of them like a quizmaster.

“Just get on with it, Rosie!” Charlie said, striking gold as she pulled out a bright red wavy wig. She shoved it on, getting some dust up her nose and starting to sneeze too, sending the wig falling over her face.

“Okay, okay,” Rosie replied, “keep your hair on.”

“Never mind all that,” Mia said impatiently. “Who’s it about?”

“Mrs Hawk,” Rosie announced dramatically,
her face lit up unnaturally as she knelt below the light bulb.

The others all looked over at the crumpled page from Rosie’s old local paper while she read it out:

At the end of the article was a grainy black-and-white photo of a woman with short dark hair and small, beady eyes.

“Mr Bright – that must be Beth’s dad,” Charlie said after they’d looked at the picture. “Beth
said
that Mrs Hawk had been involved in some kind of scandal when she left.”

“The date on this newspaper’s April the twenty-ninth,” Mia pointed out.

“Sammy said Mrs Hawk bought Scout at auction in April,” Alice said, frowning. “If the RSPCA had seized all her other ponies from Hollow Common and were onto her, she’d have had to sell Scout in a serious hurry. Mrs Valentine must have picked him up really cheaply, I bet.”

“And now she’s trying to sell him on for a huge profit,” Rosie tutted.

“This doesn’t just mean there’s a link between Mrs Valentine and all the ponies on Dragonfly Marsh,” Mia said. “It confirms what we’d all suspected – that there’s also a link between Mrs Valentine and not just any old dealer, but a very dodgy one in Mrs Hawk.”

As the four girls sat among the boxes and discarded paper they suddenly realised that the case had taken a sinister twist. They sat stony-faced, until Rosie glanced sideways and suddenly perked up.

“Bingo!” she cried, pulling some old baseball caps out of a box. “Our disguises!”

Chapter Eleven

Jock hooted outside Blackberry Farm’s gate at seven thirty the next morning, ready for the hour’s drive ahead. The girls had all slept over at the farm ready for their early start, and they’d already been out in the yard, mixing feeds and taking them out for their ponies to eat in the field. After they’d got back in, Rosie, Alice and Charlie had groaned as they lounged across the kitchen table yawning, their dusty baseball caps pulled low over their faces. Mia, who was refusing to wear hers until the very last possible moment, had piled her glossy black hair up first thing in preparation while Mrs Honeycott made everyone tea and thick slices of toast with melted butter and strawberry jam.

“Mia, it’s officially wrong that you can look so neat and together this early in the morning,” Rosie sighed as she heard the toot and scraped back her chair. She called out goodbye to her parents, and kissed Beanie, who was rustling round the kitchen, and Pumpkin, who was curled up near the Aga.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Charlie agreed sleepily as she pushed her brown fringe under the peak of her hat.

“It’s a talent, I know.” Mia smiled sweetly as they bundled out of the cottage and clambered into Jock’s jeep, clanging shut the rattly door and saying hello.

As Jock drove, the girls chattered away, laughing as they got bounced around on the hard seats every time they went over the tiniest bump in the road. They told him what they’d uncovered about Mrs Hawk, which he remembered hearing about at the time, and described Mrs Valentine to him. He agreed to keep an eye out for her too.

Rosie somehow managed to doze as they rattled along until Charlie, realising they were getting close, gave her a nudge. She’d caught sight of the brush fences and white rails curling around the smooth green turf of their local point-to-point racetrack where the auction was being held. As they craned their necks, they saw a huge, slightly grubby-looking marquee with ‘Roger Green Auctions’ emblazoned in a rich emerald green across the arch of a tunnel, which led to a circular main tent.

Jock wound down his window as they turned off the busy road and bumped across an uneven field. He announced himself as the official farrier, making the girls feel very important, before being waved off to park on the right. He rumbled forward, then ground to a juddering halt in the area of the car park reserved for ‘officials’, away from a huge mass of ancient trailers and old horseboxes. As the humming engine was switched off, its noise was replaced at once by the buzz of hundreds of voices.

As soon as they jumped out into an already sweltering day, Alice, Charlie, Mia and Rosie were almost swallowed up by the people bustling backwards and forwards. It was still early but the air was filled with the smell of burgers, horse manure and lots of people packed in together. They made their way through the crowds from the car park, past ponies which were already being exercised in far corners of the field, with numbered stickers on their rumps. They continued past the temporary stables where they could hear the shrill neighs of hundreds of nervous horses and ponies. They were being led in and out and trotted up on the wide concrete walkways in front of groups of potential buyers.

“I had no idea it would be so busy!” Rosie squealed, narrowly missing being trotted over by a huge grey horse as they made their way to the auction tent.

Mia peered down the roped entrance into the gloom beyond and saw a ring with sawdust in the
middle and rows of metal-framed seats curled around it. On the opposite side was the auctioneer’s rostrum, a wooden, boxed-in platform about waist height with a wide shelf. Mia saw a vast man with a yellow checked waistcoat and a large, ruddy face leaning forward over it. He watched everyone who wandered in closely over his half-moon glasses, his eyes darting in every direction as he rubbed a bushy moustache. A few people called out and he waved to them, replying in a deeply booming rich voice.

They paused for a moment outside the tent as the next ‘lot’, a tall, temperamental-looking bay, disappeared down into the tunnel out of sight. They heard the auctioneer’s quick-fire sales chatter start at once and pick up into a continuous crescendo, floating out of the ring to where they were standing.

“He can’t have time to breathe!” Charlie laughed as they listened to his voice rising and falling, getting the bidding started and then
taking the price up without a pause. He could be heard encouraging everyone inside the tent to have a go, listing all the pony’s good points in any of the gaps between bids before racing up through the increases. Suddenly, the bidding stopped. The girls listened, peering down into the ring, and caught sight of the auctioneer going round the ring encouraging more buyers to join in, announcing that lot 23 was going once, twice, then a dramatic pause before the final slamming hammer fall.

“Sold!”

Alice stood back from the roped entrance as the bay horse, which had started to sweat up, jogged out of the marquee. He was followed by an excited-looking couple who walked with the handler back to the stables. The girls watched as the next lot, a small chestnut pony, trotted towards the ring, the whites of his eyes showing. There was a scuffle of hooves as he refused to enter for a moment, half rearing and pulling back
on the reins. Alice could see his sides heaving as he neighed at the top of his voice, trying to turn his head back to the stable block before finally barging forward into the ring.

She wondered if Scout had been as terrified with all the commotion and strange sounds and smells bombarding him when he’d been brought to the sale. She wished for a second that she could rush up and hug the pony, tell him he would be all right, but she couldn’t. He had disappeared and the bidding was starting, the auctioneer racing off at high speed until the hammer fell and the pony was led out. Alice felt relieved as she saw a young boy and his parents rush to meet the pony, thinking that at least it looked as if he’d gone to someone who’d love him as much as she loved Scout.

“Right, we need to focus,” Mia announced after they’d each bought ice-cold cans of fizzy drink from a nearby stand. “The auction is only on this morning, so we don’t have long.”

“And what exactly is it we’re meant to be focusing on again?” Rosie asked as she snapped back the ring pull on her can and took a glug of drink. It was so cold that the bubbles went up her nose and made her eyes water.

“Mrs Valentine,” Charlie said, squinting into the sun, “and I think I might have just found her…”

The others followed Charlie’s gaze and saw a tall, wiry woman dressed smartly all in navy, with a floppy hat, long blonde hair and huge dark sunglasses, slip across from the car park and disappear in front of them through the crowds and into the marquee.

“Quick – don’t lose sight of her!” Mia instructed as they ducked down and raced forward, bumping into each other. They rushed into the relative gloom of the marquee. Keeping low, they tiptoed up the metallic stairs then dived into some seats halfway up, sitting right by the entrance where there were thick metal frames to
the edges of the seats to give them some cover.

Alice pulled her baseball cap down and noticed the others do the same while they furtively looked around.

“There she is!” Alice whispered, nudging Rosie, who had spotted her too. She was sitting in the middle, further along on the same side as them but right at the bottom of the rows of seats. Their position was perfect. The girls could see her, but she had no idea they were there.

“I wonder what she’s up to,” Rosie said quietly as Mrs Valentine nodded discreetly at the auctioneer. He ever so slightly raised his gavel towards her, acknowledging her arrival, before turning his attention back to a spotted pony in the ring.

“That’s what we’re about to find out…” Mia replied, as she held one hand up to her cap.

Charlie and Alice exchanged glances, jiggling their legs with nervous excitement, hoping that at any second Mrs Valentine was going to do
something obviously underhand. They just didn’t have a clue what it might be.

A couple of hours later, after what seemed like a thousand lots had walked and trotted in and out of the ring, they were still sitting there, feeling slightly less excited, their legs stiff and their eyes glued to Mrs Valentine’s slightest move. Rosie shifted in her seat, aching from the hard metal.

“Do you think she’s actually going to do
any
thing?” Charlie asked, checking her watch. At this rate Jock was going to be collecting them before Mrs Valentine had even got going.

“Maybe she’s just come to buy a pony, and there’s nothing dodgy going on after all,” Rosie suggested, her stomach starting to rumble as another horse walked out of the ring, this time without being sold.

“But if she was buying she’d have a catalogue, wouldn’t she? Just like everyone else who’s been bidding,” Charlie pointed out, wondering if they were on a wild goose chase.

They looked over to the entrance, but no other horse came in and the auctioneer announced that it was time for a short break. Rosie checked her watch. It was getting near to twelve o’clock. Almost lunch time. Her face brightened instantly.

“Perfect, I’m just going to nip out to grab a burger…”

Just as Rosie went to stand up Mia suddenly pulled her back down and the four of them almost fell off their seats, ducking behind the ones in front. Mrs Valentine was finally on the move. They waited until she’d walked through the tunnel before clattering over the seats, jumping down the last few steps and rushing after her. They kept their heads low, their eyes fixed on the wide-brimmed hat that bobbed through the crowds.

“She’s heading for the stables!” Alice whispered as they hopped between the groups of chattering people. They kept their distance, with their eyes
glued to the hat as it disappeared into the temporary stable block nearest to the auction ring.

The block was open at both ends, with horses and ponies in stables facing each other. Mrs Valentine glided straight through the wide walkway in the middle, not stopping to check any ponies as everyone else around her was doing, or even to pat one of the noses poking out. It was noisy in there, the air filled with people chatting and laughing, and with ponies neighing and metallic clangs as hooves kicked out against the dividers. It was only when Mrs Valentine got to the far end of the stable block that she hesitated for a moment.

The girls instinctively turned to pat the nearest pony, pulling down their baseball caps and bunching up together. Rosie glanced over and noticed that Mrs Valentine was standing by the last stable, checking over the stable door, before having a furtive look around. Rosie quickly
glanced down at the floor. When she turned back, Mrs Valentine was gone.

They hurried to the far end of the stables, poking their heads carefully around the edge. A few metres beyond the last stable, outside the block, they saw the auctioneer step out of a tent flap at the rear of the marquee. They quickly ducked back round the edge of the stables.

“That flap must be just behind his rostrum,” Mia whispered under her breath.

They heard a delicate cough, and with a flutter of their hearts they realised that Mrs Valentine was lurking just outside the end stable. Mia nervously looked around her. They needed to hide: if Mrs Valentine and the auctioneer walked back into the stables, they’d see them at once.

“In here.” Mia pointed, quietly drawing back the bolt on the last stable. They all piled in with a docile-looking chestnut horse who stood resting one back leg, her eyes sleepy. They crowded round the small, open window that looked out onto
the area where Mrs Valentine was standing. They could just about make out the conversation. Mia pulled her phone from her pocket and started taking a video, holding the camera slightly above the open window so that she could pick up the voices.

“So how are our ‘investments’ going?” the man asked, hushing his deep, huge voice.

“Very well, Roger. I’ve got another one
maturing
tomorrow,” Mrs Valentine replied, a thin smile in her voice. “So you’ll get your slice very soon. It’s a good one, too.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Roger laughed greedily and mopped his hairy brow. “I’ve got another one for you too, lot 107 – next one in the ring. Nicely put together chap, fallen on hard times but should make someone a super all-rounder. The plan’s the same as usual: I’ll keep the price low for you, in return for my share of the profits when you sell.”

“Of course, Roger. After all, why change
a winning formula?” Mrs Valentine smirked. “Lot 107, here we come.”

Roger Green nodded, with a wide, satisfied grin, as Mrs Valentine turned on her heel and reappeared in the stables. Rosie, Alice, Charlie and Mia all bent over at once, suddenly paying a lot of attention to the chestnut’s hooves.

“Are you interested in her?” A voice called out. They turned to see a friendly-looking man standing by the door.

“Oh, er, no, just checking her hooves, that’s all,” Rosie explained, trying to make herself look official, tapping her nose and making the others giggle. “We’re with Jock, the farrier, you see.”

“Oh, right,” the man replied, looking confused, as the girls raced down the stable block and re-took their seats just as lot 107 entered the ring and the auction re-started.