and he says I can put him in the barn he’s got there, just for the night.’
‘Oh, ideal!’
‘Exactly,’ I agreed, declining to add that the farmer was in fact Odd Bob and that he’d practically taken it as a marriage proposal when I’d popped round to Dog-Howling Farm to place my request. He’d beamed stupidly from ear to ear and agreed that mum was indeed the word when I’d told him it was a secret, rather as if we’d just plotted to flee to Gretna Green together, winking and tapping the side of his nose annoyingly. He’d even tried to kiss me on the cheek as I left. Bob was still behaving very strangely indeed.
‘And you’ll be sure to come to the meet and give me a hand?’ I asked my father anxiously. Whilst I’d rejected all Bob’s offers of help, I’d be very glad of his.
‘Of course I will. Although it occurs to me that if I’m coming to the meet I could take Thumper straight there for you …’ He furrowed his brow and we looked thoughtfully at the horse, all ready and waiting within. ‘But on the other hand you’ll want to get to know him, won’t you? Maybe have another ride? Probably best he’s with you.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed tentatively. We regarded each other uncertainly.
‘Tell you what,’ he declared suddenly, ‘once my lot are fed and watered, which I’ll do early, I’ll come straight across to your place to get you tacked up and loaded.’
‘Oh, would you, Dad?’
‘Course.’ He beamed. ‘I say, what fun. Good for you, Poppy. I do think you’re brave.’
Did he? I thought nervously, trundling home in the lorry ten minutes later with half a ton of horse flesh in the back. If my Dad thought I was brave, that was worrying. As was driving this lorry. Of course I’d driven it loads of times in my youth, but I’d forgotten how wide it was and how, obviously, one couldn’t see out of the back and had to rely on wing mirrors. Surely one should have a special licence? Have passed some sort of HGV test? Dad hadn’t mentioned it, but then, he wouldn’t.
With uncharacteristic foresight I’d radioed ahead for reinforcements, so that, as I rounded the bend into the village, it was a happy sight that greeted me. Sitting on the grass in Jennie’s front garden were all the children, aka the welcoming committee. Archie was on Jamie’s lap and Hannah and Clemmie were kneeling shoulder to shoulder, intent on squeezing rose petals into water-filled jam jars to make scent, something which would have transported my daughter to big-girl heaven. At the sight of the lorry, however, they abandoned the perfumery, jumped up and poured out of the white picket gate. Simultaneously the front door flew open and Jennie hurried down the path in their wake, wiping her hands on her long white apron.
‘You’ve got him,’ she breathed, gazing up at me in disbelief through the open cab window. The children were jumping up and down excitedly beside her.
‘Of course I have.’ I hopped smartly down from the cab. ‘Now all we’ve got to do is unload him and take him round the back to the field.’ I gave her a huge grin as I marched to the back of the lorry, feeling like the pied piper with the children on my heels.
‘Out of the way, everyone!’ I called. ‘Stand back, folks, this comes down pretty smartly!’
They shrank back as I reached for the rope to pull down the ramp. It did indeed come down with a mighty bang in the road, all springs long gone. Jennie jumped and the children shrieked some more. I laughed indulgently at them, realizing I was getting a bit of a thrill out of being in control here. So much of my life was spent following bigger, bossier personalities. I must remember this. Something was definitely kicking in.
Thumper turned his head and gave me an old-fashioned look as I went inside to get him. He was slightly sweaty, I noticed, but it was warm in the box, probably nothing to worry about. As I untied his head-collar rope and made to lead him down the ramp, however, he surged ahead of me, out into the road. I hung on tight to the end of the rope. What was that about control?
‘Oh my God, he’s huge!’ gasped Jennie, grabbing Archie, who was in danger of being trampled. ‘I thought you’d be on more of a pony!’