Secret Pony Society (8 page)

“Pia, if you've got a sweet tooth, we can buy you some sweets, rather than see you resort to stealing sugar from tables,” offered Skinny Lynny. “But I have to say that sugar will not only rot your teeth, it will seriously compromise your figure.”

“They're for Drummer, actually,” I told her, making a face.

“Less of the attitude, Pia,” Dad remarked, siding with Skinny.

I was itching to call Bean, but I couldn't get a moment to myself. Skinny even came with me when I went to the restroom, like we were best friends or something. After the café we walked around some more and went to the shop where Skinny bought some napkin rings. I bought a jar of gooseberry jam for Mom, and then remembered she was on her health-food bender. It was too late by then. I'd parted with my cash.
Still
, I thought,
she is bound to get fed up with all the lettuce in the end and return to real food
.

As we walked back to the car, Dad and Skinny got lovey-dovey, holding hands and giggling. Skinny started tickling my dad, and my dad went all stupid and gooey-eyed with his trophy girlfriend. I trailed along behind trying not to watch and wishing they'd knock it off and grow up.

Finally, I got a second to myself when we got back home, and I called Bean for an update.

That didn't go as planned—Bean's phone was switched off. As I had only a half hour window because I was supposed to be getting ready to go out with Dad and Skinny for dinner, I couldn't wait and, in desperation, called Katy instead.

Big mistake. Katy was not her usual cool, calm, collected self.

“Pia! Oh, you won't believe what's been happening today!”

“What?” I asked, bracing myself for a long story about Bluey's lost shoe and possibly the oh-so-familiar tale of the farrier being late or not turning up at all or turning up and spending all the time on his cell instead of concentrating on shoeing Bluey.

“One of the travelers chased James and Cat when they were out riding! Actually ran after them!”

I caught my breath. This was so, so not good.

“Really?” I said, feeling a bit woozy.

“Yes, threatened them! Said his daughter was missing and that he knew someone was hiding her. Really crazy, he was. You know, demented.”

My heart did a sort of horrible dance. I could just picture Jazz's father, some big, blustery, scary guy, scaring James and Cat, making the ponies tremble—especially poor Moth. Pooh, pooh, pooh.

“James shouted back at him apparently. That's when he chased them. Of course, he couldn't keep up with Moth and Bambi, but still, those travelers are just the pits! James says he's thinking of calling the police. How are you, anyway?” she said. “Having fun with your dad?”

“Er, not really. Is Bean around?”

“No, she's left for the evening. Should I tell her to call you?”

“No, no, it's OK. I'll text her. Can you give Drum a kiss for me?”

“Sure will. I can see him from here. He's twirling his hay net around like he does. Isn't he funny?”

“Yeah, when you don't have to spend half an hour the next day unraveling it,” I told her.

I rattled off a text to Bean and went downstairs with a heavy heart. Things were going badly, and I still had another day to endure away from everything. I didn't know whether to be sad or glad. One thing was certain: there wasn't a thing I could do about it.

I thought we'd have some girly fun today,” said Skinny Lynny, smiling at me and my dad as she finished her coffee. “Pia and I will go shopping and get out of your hair, Paul—what's left of it!”

I glanced at my dad. I hadn't noticed, but he was going a bit thin on top. I bet he didn't like that! My heart sank—not because of my dad's disappearing hair, but because shopping with Skinny Lynny was last on my miniscule list of things I'd choose to do. Dad was all for it. He probably thought it would be a great bonding exercise.

I always have good intentions about being nice to Skinny Lynny, intentions which evaporate the moment I'm with her and her annoying little girl persona kicks in. I decided shopping might be the perfect opportunity to put those forgotten intentions into practice. A chance to check out the karma thing—you know, you get back what you put in, that sort of thing.

I'd managed to get a hold of Bean at about ten o'clock last night, and she'd confirmed Katy's story about Jazz's dad, making it sound even worse. There had been swearing, there had been threats. Bean was determined to visit Jazz again today, but she acknowledged that she needed to be extra careful. Meeting up with Jazz's irate father was the last thing she wanted to do. I couldn't help wondering whether Jazz's curse was starting to work. It did sound like her father had gone totally crazy.

Sitting at the kitchen table eating cornflakes with my dad and Skinny Lynny, I wished I had Drummer to talk to. I felt so out of everything and anxious about Jazz and Bean and James and everything. Not Cat. I didn't care much if Jazz's dad chased her. And now I was going shopping.
Whoop-de-doo
. I thought we'd go to some big shopping mall, but it turned out that Skinny's idea of shopping was very different to mine.

“We'll go to Fairview,” she said as we got into her very red, very shiny car my dad had bought for her. The thought crossed my mind as to whether Skinny would be fed up with her car by the time I was old enough to drive. Would my dad pass it on to me? I could see me turning up at the yard to see to Drummer in that!

“There are some lovely shops in Fairview,” Skinny rambled on, oblivious to my plans for her wheels. Of course, I realized, the red number would probably be long gone by the time I reached seventeen. Skinny would upgrade.

With a tiny main street and lots of cafés and boutiques, Fairview was as picturesque as it was expensive. Skinny sailed into a boutique called Madelaine, trying on boots and sweaters and jackets with prices that would keep Drummer in hay all winter. And she kept holding things up against me and pushing me into changing rooms to try them on.

So I did. Well, wouldn't you? I tried on an eye-wateringly expensive designer T-shirt that looked great and a pair of designer jeans that were too long, but who cares, and a pair of boots with heels I knew my mom would put her foot down about—and not in a good way. Skinny shook her head at the length of the jeans and told me I'd break my ankle in the boots (which was more than possible, regrettably), but she bought me the T-shirt without a second glance at the price, handing over the plastic and punching in her PIN. I almost fell over!

Then we went for a coffee, and I had a chocolate muffin and a Coke and Skinny had a latte, and thus fortified, we went onto another boutique called JayCee where Skinny was welcomed like a long-lost relative. When she spent a couple of hundred dollars in there on a blouse and a belt, I realized why. Yup, two hundred bucks on a blouse and a belt—and the belt was on sale!

Welcome to Skinny Lynny's world
, I thought, hugging my T-shirt and feeling guilty for loving it so much. But then, I reasoned, actually my dad was paying, not Skinny, because although Skinny Lynny goes to work, my dad earns most of the money. And as Skinny pounded her PIN in again, my cell chimed with a text. Flipping it open, I saw it was from Bean.

ALL MESSED UP HERE AGAIN—CALL ME!

Oh. Oh pooh
, I thought, my momentary shopping buzz oozing down to my toes. I dialed Bean's number, but her phone was off. I didn't dare leave a message in case she listened to it within earshot of anyone else, so I texted her instead: U CALL ME!

With Skinny's blouse and belt safely encased in a cool JayCee bag, we continued window-shopping along Fairview's main street—but my heart was no longer in shopping. I was far too worried about Bean's message. What could possibly have happened? Had Jazz been discovered? If so, how? Had her dad found her? Or, even more worryingly, could it be about Drummer? Had something happened? Tensely chewing the inside of my cheek, I tried to rekindle an interest in belts and boots and dresses with outrageous price tags without success.

“How's Drummer?” asked Skinny Lynny, flicking her hair back behind her ears and showing off a twinkly, dangly earring. It was as though she could see inside my head. Spooky! I remembered how, following me giving Skinny Lynny a riding lesson on Drum in the summer, she had taken up riding at a swanky riding school nearby, Stocks Farm. So I asked her how it was going.

“Oh, OK,” she said airily. “I still go occasionally—it got more interesting when I started cantering and jumping, but it's not like I'm addicted to it. I mean, I like wearing all the clothes, and there's a lovely gray horse there called Cloud that I like, but it's not my favorite thing to do. I know you love it, Pia—and I know your dad got all excited about us going riding together, but this is fun, too, isn't it?”

I nodded because actually, before Bean's worrying text, it had been. It was a change to go shopping and be able to try on stuff that I normally couldn't afford. And—and this was the strange bit—Skinny was actually OK when she wasn't with my dad. She didn't grin and flirt and act all little-girly. She was much more, well,
ordinary
somehow. I felt a bit guilty for not disliking her as usual and wondered why I felt that way. I was just so used to her being the enemy. Mom and I had both blamed Skinny for enticing Dad away from us, but I was beginning to realize that Dad hadn't needed much in the way of enticement. He seemed really happy with Skinny.
More so than when he'd been with us
, I thought with a pang.

If only Bean would call me and I could get up to speed, I could have continued to enjoy shopping some more. However much I willed my cell to ring, it stayed stubbornly silent. I kept checking it to make sure I hadn't missed a call but no—nothing. Why
didn't
Bean call?

“Are you expecting a call from James?” asked Skinny, pausing to look at shoes in a shop window.

“No, my friend Bean. She's looking after Drummer,” I explained, shoving my phone back in my bag.

“Oh, look at those gorgeous boots,” Skinny cooed, drawing me into the shoe shop and trying on a pair of white boots adorned with fringe and studs. “Try those suede boots, Pia,” she added. “They'll look great with your jeans.”

She was right. I looked at the black suede toes peeping out from under the denim and wondered whether Skinny was going to buy them for me, too. I hoped so. They were just gorgeous. But why didn't Bean call?

I got the boots. I didn't even ask for them. Skinny just decided they were destined for my feet. I hoped Mom was going to be OK with it all—I didn't want to upset her, and I knew she could never afford the prices Skinny had paid for my new stuff. Target and Kohl's were our usual haunts. I felt really torn. Shopping with Skinny had almost been fun—and not just because she'd bought me stuff. It seemed the shopping trip had worked as a bonding exercise, after all. It could turn out to be a good day—if only Bean would call!

It all changed when we got back home and met up with Dad.

“Hi, Pumpkin!” he said, kissing both of us. “Did you have a good day?”

I nodded, showing him the designer T-shirt and boots. Frustration about Bean made me brave.

“Dad,” I said carefully, “would you mind not calling me Pumpkin? I'm a bit old for that now.”

“She is, Paul. Pia's a young lady now!” Skinny Lynny laughed, reverting back to her giggly and annoying persona around my dad. Actually, I was fed up with being Pumpkin. What was wrong with Pia? My name had been chosen by my mom and dad, for goodness sake, you'd think my dad would want to call me by it.

“OK then, if you think so,” said Dad, ruffling my hair. One way or the other he was determined to keep me his little girl.

I kept checking my phone as Dad and Skinny discussed where we could all go for dinner that evening before they took me back home. I was going to be home too late to go to the yard, which was annoying, but at least it meant I had all of Wednesday to be with Drummer and get up to speed with Bean.

Is there anything more frustrating than a cell phone that doesn't ring when you've been given only a fraction of the picture by text? If there is, I can't think what it can be! Finally, after some more totally unnecessary comments from Dad and Skinny about whether I was expecting a call from James (give it a rest, will you?), I took refuge in the putty-colored guest room and got ready to go out.

The weather had turned gloomy and rain pelted my window, making me think about Jazz. Huddled in the icehouse in the dark would be bad enough, but with the rain beating down, I could imagine how miserable it would be. Closing my eyes, I pictured Falling Snow sheltering next to a rhododendron bush, her head low, resting one hind leg, rainwater dripping off her sodden mane and tail. I imagined Jazz and her dog huddled together in the spooky icehouse on Drummer's exercise sheet, the door ajar so Jazz could make out her pony's outline in the gloom.
Brrrrr!
I was comfy in the bedroom with its en suite bathroom. The thought made me feel strangely guilty.

I pulled on my new T-shirt and grinned when I saw the designer label exposed between my shoulder blades. I'd have to tie my hair back to make sure that was on show! All the seams were sewn up to prevent them from fraying—a big change from the cheap shirts I usually wore. As I pulled my new left boot onto my foot, my phone rang AT LAST.

Snatching it off the bedside table, I slipped and toppled over onto the floor, banging my elbow on the polished floorboards. So not funny.

It was Bean—
finally!
“Bean,” I practically shouted, “what's happening?”

“Hi, Pia, hold on a minute…” I couldn't believe it! I didn't want to hold on a minute, so I yelled into my phone, “Hey, Bean, talk to me NOW!” Rude, yes, but wouldn't you? There were lots of muffled shuffling sounds, then the sound of a stable door banging shut and Bean's voice again.

“Hello?”

“Bean, what are you doing? I'm dying for news here!” I shouted.

“Yeah, well, I'm in Tiff's stable, making sure no one can hear me,” Bean mumbled indignantly. “Walls have ears, you know!”

“What's been happening?”

“Tons of stuff has happened. For a start, Jazz's father's been on the warpath,” said Bean. I could tell she was whispering. “James and Cat saw him when they were out riding yesterday, and he ranted and raved at them, shouting that somebody had to know where his daughter and her pony were.”

“I know that. Katy told me yesterday. I told you!”

“Oh, yes, I forgot. Anyway, now everybody knows Jazz is missing. And then, as if that wasn't enough…oh, hold on a sec…”

Everything went quiet. What was Bean doing now? It was like torture, being given glimpses and then nothing again. Would I ever get to the bottom of things with Bean as my confidante? I wondered whether she could put Drummer on the phone, I'd get a more concise report from my pony than my friend! Maybe I should have asked Katy to help me after all…

“Hello, are you still there?” Bean's voice whispered out of my phone again.

“Yes, but where do you keep disappearing to?” I asked. Then I wished I hadn't.

“Well, Mrs. Bradley keeps walking past Tiff's stable—you know how she keeps forgetting things and makes about a zillion trips from Henry's stable to the tack room and back—she must get her riding boots resoled every few weeks—and Katy's around, too, and I don't want anyone to overhear me, for reasons which will become obvious (
When?
I thought!), and Dee's just come back from schooling Dolly. When I first dialed your number, the yard was deserted, but as soon as you answered, it seems the whole world and his wife, dog, cat, ferret, and bag of candy suddenly turned up. It's not easy being a spy!”

“Candy?” I asked.

“Huh?”

I closed my eyes and groaned. “Nothing, go on, tell me what else has happened!”

“What?”

“You said that wasn't all,” I said slowly. I wanted to scream.

“What wasn't?”

“I don't know—you're telling me, remember?” I hissed.

“Er, oh, yes!” Bean took a deep breath. “James and Cat came back, and Cat was spitting nails, totally fed up with being shouted at by Jazz's dad, and she made a lot of noise about how she just knew you had something to do with Jazz's disappearance, you know, really stirring things up for you, so I had to be particularly spyish and look innocent. And then this morning, Jazz's dad turned up at the stable in his huge black 4x4 with a big dog inside, which threw itself at the car windows looking like it wanted to eat us all for lunch. And Jazz's dad banged on Mrs. Collins's front door, making Squish go ballistic, and he shouted that someone was hiding his daughter and they had better tell him where she was or there was going to be trouble, and he would see to it that whoever was helping her would wish they hadn't been born, as well as plenty of other unpleasant things, which I'm trying to put out of my mind.”

“What did Mrs. C say?” I gulped, closing my eyes.

“She gave as good as she got! She may be bonkers, but you know she's as tough as old boots. She stood there in her slippers, shoved her fist in his face, and told him that no one at her yard knew anything, which was a lie, but she didn't know that, and that she was going to call the police if he didn't leave immediately.”