The Moon Spun Round (8 page)

Abbie is sitting at a banquet-sized kitchen table sifting through heaps of papers. Her brow furrows as she chews her bottom lip. When she sees Sally, her face is transformed by fine lines that trace the curve her cheeks, the sort of lines that grow from a lifetime of smiling. She tosses a piece of paper in mock despair.

‘Look, I’ve got an accountant who’s supposed to deal with all this and I still have to fiddle about with bits of paper. Do you understand VAT returns?’

‘No, I only function from the right side of my brain.’

‘You and me both. Sally, come in,’ Abbie abandons the paperwork and gives her a hug, ‘and welcome. It’s so good to see you. You look fantastic—that colour suits you. And I love the moonstone.’

Sally touches the white pendant. ‘Oh, thank you.’

‘Were you all right last night? I hope we didn’t keep you awake.’

‘Not at all. Did you have a fun evening?’

‘Fantastic, wasn’t it, girls?’

Sally sees they’re not alone. There are two young women over at the sink, rattling oven tins and strainers. ‘Come and meet my new daughters. This is Cassie, Daniel’s young lady.’

‘Hi, and you’re Sally. Good to meet you.’ Cassie looks a little older than Daniel, but pale and thin as a wafer, with eyes like a china doll.

The other girl is a dark-eyed brunette, older and broad-shouldered. ‘And I’m Sue. I belong to Philip. At least I’m with him at the moment, but I’m not exactly private property.’

‘I met Daniel on the way in. Philip must be his older brother?’

‘That’s right. Philip’s gone off with his father. They’re doing something esoteric with the tractor engine, but they’ll be back in a while. So we thought we’d start lunch.’

‘Aren’t they wonderful?’ says Abbie. ‘Insisted on doing the cooking so you and I can skive off to the stables.’

‘Hope you like roast beef, Sally.’ Sue brandishes a vegetable peeler and drops a raw carrot into a saucepan of water.

‘Well I do, but I thought you said to expect something simple?’

‘I was overruled. The men are all starving, despite what they put away at breakfast. And as long as I don’t have to cook it, they can have whatever they
like. If you ever have children, Sally, make sure they’re all girls.’

‘She doesn’t mean it. She adores those boys.’ Cassie, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, is vigorously attacking a bowl with an egg whisk. They’re obviously enjoying being allowed to play house.

Sally remembers the chocolates. ‘Here, a little thank-you for making me so welcome.’

‘Oh, Sally, that’s so kind. I’m supposed to say you shouldn’t have, but I recognize the wrapping paper and I’m not going to argue.’

‘Well, if it’s something edible,’ says Sue, ‘you’d better hide it before the men come back.’

‘You’re right. I’ll take these upstairs and fetch a sweater. Then you and I can go and meet my other children, Sally.’

S
ALLY IS TENSE
as she holds out her hand, a peppermint balanced on her palm. He looks so huge now that she’s standing next to him. His shoulders, rounding above the stable door, are solid muscle. But his nostrils twitch delicately, and his lips quiver over her hand, searching for the treat.

‘Just hold it steady. He knows what he’s doing.’

‘Sure he won’t bite?’

‘Wilson’s too intelligent to bite anyone who’s giving him mints.’

His tongue is like a big, soft sponge, mouth soft as butter. The sweet is taken with such delicacy, leaving her hand slightly damp. She cups her palm over the chocolate-coloured muzzle and is amazed how smooth and warm it feels. ‘He’s beautiful.’

The stable block is a huge building with high windows and skylights. It smells distinctly of horse, but not the rank stench Sally associates with her father’s rose beds. This is a lighter odour and, mixed with straw, sawdust and disinfectant, is not unpleasant. Underfoot it’s all concrete. One wall is divided into separate stalls, and a few heads, inquisitive or hopeful, appeared over the stall gates when Abbie and Sally entered.

‘You’ve seriously never been this close to a horse before?’

‘No, they didn’t have them where I grew up. I’ve been to the races a few times, of course: one of Jonathan’s friends has part-share in a horse, so we got to go into the enclosure at Ascot. But I always kept well clear of the animals, although I loved to watch them race. Racehorses always look so graceful but sort of fragile, as if they were flying in the wind. This one’s built like a tank.’

Abbie laughs. ‘Yes, he’s what they call a hunter. Not so fast, but loads of stamina—can carry a heavy adult and go the distance. He’s actually George’s horse, but we hire him out quite often. Don’t worry, if you let me take you out
sometime I’ll put you on one of the ponies.’ Wilson tosses his head and snuffles. Sally steps back, startled by the sudden movement. ‘It’s OK, he’s just asking for another mint. This is the last one now.’ Wilson takes the treat and moves to the back of the stall.

‘He can rest for a while. I took him out for a good run earlier.’ Daniel has come up behind them. ‘Lottie’s in the small paddock with Milo, but we’ll need to get the ponies out, too. They’ve been shut in since last night. We could take them all over to the big field, let them have a good airing.’

‘Now, you’re sure the bonfire’s out? Is it safe?’

‘Yes, I’ve checked it: quite cold. I threw a couple of buckets of water over it to make sure. Ginger and Sorrel are ready. I’ll bridle up Bonnie.’

‘What about Rowan?’

‘Cassie and I might go for a ride before lunch. We’ll take Rowan and Lottie if that’s OK. Come on, Sally, you can help lead them over.’

Sally looks horrified. But ten minutes later she’s leading a horse by a rope. At least, she suspects the horse is following Daniel and allowing her to hold the rope out of sympathy. These are the animals she has watched from her bedroom window. She thought ponies were supposed to be small, but close up these things look enormous. The one she’s leading towers above her. If it decided to make a run for it, she wouldn’t have a hope in hell of holding it back. Abbie walks beside her, giving reassuring smiles. Daniel is up ahead with a horse on either side, their rumps swaying and their shoes flashing silver with each rise and fall of their hooves.

As they pass the smaller paddock, a brown head appears over the fence and nudges Abbie. ‘All right, girl, we’ll see you on the way back. Won’t be a moment.’

‘You must think I’m a real wimp. Have you always been with horses?’

‘Can’t remember when I couldn’t ride. My mother used to balance me on a saddle before I could even walk. But I never cease to be amazed by them. Their very existence is awesome.’

‘Why the riding school? How did you get into that?’

‘Well, George rides, of course—that’s how we got to know each other—and the boys always had their own ponies. The equine culture’s pretty strong round here—pony club, gymkhanas, that sort of thing. And then of course there’s Newmarket. Lots of the boys’ friends had their own ponies. Indulgent parents, some of them newcomers to the countryside with no knowledge of horses at all. So I started giving riding lessons and tried to ensure the creatures were well looked after. Lot of harm can be done to a horse through well-intentioned ignorance. Wait there, I’ll take Ginger while Daniel opens the gate.’

‘Ginger looks rather tubby. Is she expecting?’

‘Yes, that’s right. She’s in foal. Due about the middle of January.’

Ropes are unclipped from bridles, and the horses, slapped on the rump, kick their heels and trot off across the rough grass. The gate tightly secured again, Daniel heads back to the stable while Sally and Abbie enter the smaller paddock.

‘This is Lottie, short for Charlotte. She’s mine. Or I’m hers. We’ve never worked that one out. I was with her mother when she foaled, wiped her down and watched her find her feet. So I had to have her, didn’t I?’

‘Wonderful colour.’ Sally runs her hand over the horse’s head, light brown and polished like a ripe acorn, a tracery of veins across her nose. Her eyes are like warm toffee. ‘I’d die for eyelashes like that.’ A Shetland pony, a lovable dwarf the height of Lottie’s knee, ambles up to them and bumps against Sally’s hip. ‘Hello, and who are you?’

‘If someone’s trying to barge in, it must be Milo.’

‘Now that’s more my size. You’re a sweetie, aren’t you?’

‘No, he’s not your size: your feet would touch the ground. Mind he doesn’t knock you over—he’s a bit of a clown and he’s stronger than he looks. But he’s very gentle with small children.’

‘Isn’t there a lot of work involved in all this? How do you manage the horses and run the house?’

‘Lots of help. I employ a stable girl full-time, and a couple of girls help out after school in exchange for lessons. Daniel is usually here at weekends. And I found this absolute treasure who cleans the house while I escape into the fields.’ ‘But still, it must have been difficult when the boys were living at home.’ ‘That’s when I needed it most. House full of adolescents, noise, squabbling. It was like a battleground sometimes. Out here it’s just me and the horse. We move together, like one body, one mind. That’s where I really get to know myself.’ Back at the stables, they find Daniel has Rowan already saddled and waiting for Cassie.

‘His leg looks a lot better, Mum, barely a scratch. You caught it just in time.’ ‘Yes, I’m glad we managed to clear it before it turned into an abscess.’ Daniel turns to Sally. ‘She’s amazing with animals. She has this magic touch.’

‘Like a horse whisperer, you mean? Yes, I can believe that.’

‘Yes, that too. But I was thinking more about the healing. She’s quite a practitioner, you know.’

‘No, I didn’t. What’s this, Abbie? What is it you do?’

‘Oh, it’s nothing really. Just a little knowledge of herbs and the like.’

‘Don’t you believe her. She’s the wise woman round here when it comes to horses. Ask the local vet. He often asks your advice, doesn’t he, Mum?’

‘Fortunately he’s open-minded about alternative methods of healing.’

‘Which is more than can be said for our father.’

‘Not that again, Danny. I wish you would try to understand his viewpoint. You see, Sally, George’s family have been pillars of the community for, well, centuries. He’s a senior partner in a legal firm in Newmarket. Lots of the local owners and trainers are his clients. Imagine how it might look, his wife indulging in all this New Age stuff. Bad for the firm’s reputation.’

‘What about your reputation, Mum? You deserve more credit for what you do.’

‘Not now, Daniel. Sally’s not interested in this.’

‘Oh, but I am. I’d like to know more. I have a friend in London who does Bach remedies, uses a pendulum to prescribe different blends. She used to make me up a bottle sometimes, when I felt a bit run-down or something. When Jonathan died, she gave me something to help. I don’t think I could have got through the funeral without it.’

‘There you are, you see. People are more open to these things than Dad would admit. You’d have them queuing up for help. It’s not just the animals, Sally; she treats humans as well, only family and friends, but she could help lots of people if she were more open about it.’

‘Is that right, Abbie? Look, I know this is none of my business, but I can’t help agreeing with Daniel. If you have a gift for healing people, perhaps you should consider using it.’

‘It’s not that simple. George is a good man, Sally. All right, he can be a bit pig-headed at times, but he’s never complained about the time or money I spend on the stables. He doesn’t care if I don’t make a profit, never bats an eyelid when I go out to buy a riding hat and come home with another horse. And he really doesn’t mind about the medicines and the healing, so long as I confine it to animals and use a bit of discretion. No, Daniel, I’m not going against your father in this. He’s entitled to his opinion and I respect that.’

Daniel looks as if he were about to launch into another episode of what’s obviously an ongoing family argument, but Cassie arrives, strapping a riding helmet under her chin.

‘Lunch will be a little while yet, I’m afraid,’ she says. ‘Time for a quick ride down to the river?’

‘Yes, sure.’ Daniel takes Rowan’s rein and picks up a saddle and bridle for Lottie. ‘You talk to her, Sally. She might listen to you.’ Rowan and Daniel stride off towards the paddock, Rowan snorting with anticipation and Daniel huffing
with frustration. Cassie, sensing Daniel’s mood, shrugs her shoulders and runs to catch up.

‘Oh dear, I’m sorry. I obviously touched on a sore point.’

‘Don’t worry, it’s an ongoing debate. If you hang around this family you’re bound to hear a lot more of it.’

‘Seriously, though, do you treat people? Only, with all the changes recently, perhaps I could use something. I was going to see if there was a local practitioner in Newmarket, but if you deal with natural healing…’

‘Yes, of course. I do prescribe for friends; I can probably give you something. Only don’t tell George. You seem to be coping well, a little too well, I think. Sometimes these things can come back and bite you when you’re least expecting it. Let’s go through to the office. That’s where I keep my medicinal stocks.’

Abbie’s office is a screened-off corner of the stables—same concrete floor, metal filing cabinets, and a computer on a metal tabletop. The ancient wooden dresser looks out of place with its carved panels and scrolled hinges. Abbie selects a key from a bunch on her belt chain and opens the doors.

‘I like to keep all my supplies in one place. They seem to work more effectively when they’re stored together.’

‘Wow, magic potions. This looks like—what? An alchemist’s laboratory?’

Abbie laughs. ‘An apothecary’s, perhaps?’

‘What
is
all this stuff?’ Sally looks through jars and bottles of preserved plant life. Some resemble her own collection of cooking herbs; others are more like dried flowers, pansies and marigolds. There are pestles and mortars, a set of old-fashioned scales, ceramic pots with wax-sealed lids, jars made of stone and coloured glass. She picks up a cork-stoppered bottle made of dark blue glass, with ridges down the sides. ‘Is this poisonous?’