Meridon (Wideacre Trilogy 3) Page 4

  ‘Enjoy yourselves?’ he asked.

  Dandy gleamed at him. ‘It was wonderful,’ she said, without a word of exaggeration. ‘It was the most wonderful thing I have ever seen.’

  He nodded and raised an eyebrow at me.

  ‘Can the stallion really count?’ I asked. ‘How did you teach him his numbers? Can he read as well?’

  An absorbed look crossed Robert Gower’s face. ‘I never thought of him reading,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘You could do a trick with him taking messages perhaps…’ Then he recollected us. ‘You’d like a ride, I hear.’

  I nodded. For the first time in a thieving, cheating, bawling life I felt shy. ‘If he wouldn’t mind…’ I said.

  ‘He’s just a horse,’ Robert Gower said, and put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. The stallion, still dyed black, came out from behind the screen with just a halter on, obedient as a dog.

  He walked towards Robert who gestured to me to stand beside the horse. Then he stepped back and looked at me with a measuring eye.

  ‘How old are you?’ he asked abruptly.

  ‘Fifteen, I think,’ I said. I could feel the horse’s gentle nose touching my shoulder, and his lips bumping against my neck.

  ‘Going to grow much?’ Robert asked. ‘Your ma now, is she tall? Your pa is fairly short.’

  ‘He’s not my da,’ I said. ‘Though I call him that. My real da is dead and my ma too. I don’t know whether they were tall or not. I’m not growing as fast as Dandy, though we’re the same age.’

  Robert Gower hummed to himself and said, ‘Good,’ under his breath. I looked to see if Dandy was impatient to go but she was looking past me at the screen. Looking for Jack.

  ‘Up you get then,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Up you go.’

  I took the rope of the halter and turned towards the stallion. The great wall of his flank went up and up, well above my head. My head was as high as the start of his great arching neck. He was the biggest horse I had ever seen.

  I could vault on Jess our carthorse by yelling, ‘Hike!’ to her and taking her at a run. But she was smaller than this giant, and I did not feel fit to shout an order to him and rush at him.

  I turned to Robert Gower. ‘I don’t know how,’ I said.

  ‘Tell him to bow,’ he said, not moving forwards. He was standing as far back as if he was in the audience. And he was looking at me as if he were seeing something else.

  ‘Bow,’ I said uncertainly to the horse. ‘Bow.’

  The ears flickered forwards in reply but he did not move.

  ‘He’s called Snow,’ Robert Gower said. ‘And he’s a horse like any other. Make him do as he’s told. Don’t be shy with him.’

  ‘Snow,’ I said a little more strongly. ‘Bow!’

  A black eye rolled towards me, and I knew, without being able to say why, that he was being naughty like any ordinary horse. Whether he could count better than me or no, he was just being plain awkward. Without thinking twice I slapped him on the shoulder with the tail end of the halter and said, in a voice which left no doubt in his mind:

  ‘You heard me! Bow, Snow!’

  At once he put one forefoot behind the other and lowered right down. I still had to give a little spring to get up on his back, and then I called, ‘Up!’ and he was up on four feet again.

  Robert Gower sat on the grass. ‘Take him around the ring,’ he said.

  One touch of my heels did it, and the great animal moved forwards in such a smooth walk that it was as if we were gliding. I sat a little firmer and he took it as an order to trot. The great wide back was a steady seat and I jogged a little but hardly slid. I glanced at Robert Gower. He was tending to his pipe. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Canter.’

  I sat firmer and squeezed – the lightest of touches and the jarring pace of the trot melted into a canter which blew the hair off my shoulders and brought a delighted smile to my face. Jack came out from behind the screen and smiled at me as I thundered past him. Snow jinked a little at the movement but I stayed on his back as solid as a rock.

  ‘Pull him up!’ Robert Gower suddenly yelled, and I hauled on the rope, anxious that I had done something wrong. ‘Hold tight!’ he shouted. ‘Up Snow!’

  The neck came up and nearly hit me in the face as Snow reared. I could feel myself sliding back and I clung on to the handfuls of mane for dear life as he pawed the air, and then dropped down again.

  ‘Down you come,’ Robert Gower ordered and I slid down from the horse’s back instantly.

  ‘Give her the whip,’ he said to Jack, and Jack stepped forward, a smock thrown over his showtime glory, with a long whip in his hand.

  ‘Stand in front of the horse, as close as you can, nice loud crack on the ground. Shout him “Up!” and then a crack in the air. Like the painting on my wagon,’ Robert ordered.

  I flicked the whip lightly on the ground to get the feel. Then I looked at Snow and cracked it as loud as I could. ‘Up!’ I yelled. He was as tall as a tower above me. Up and up he went and his great black hooves were way above my head. I cracked the whip above my head, and even that long thong seemed to come nowhere near him.

  ‘Down!’ Robert shouted and the horse dropped down in front of me. I stroked his nose. The black came off on my hand and I saw that my hands and face and my skirt were filthy.

  ‘I should have given you a smock,’ Robert Gower said by way of apology. ‘Never mind.’ He took a great silver watch from his pocket and flicked it open. ‘We’re getting behind time,’ he said. ‘Would you give Jack a hand to get the horses ready for the second show?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ I said at once.

  Robert Gower glanced at Dandy. ‘D’you like horses?’ he asked. ‘D’you like to work with them?’

  Dandy smiled at him. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I do other work. Horses is too dirty.’

  He nodded at that, and flicked her a penny from his pocket. ‘You’re a deal too pretty to get dirty,’ he said. ‘That’s your pay for waiting for your sister. You can go and wait by the gate and watch that no one sneaks in before I’m there to take the money.’

  Dandy caught the penny one-handed with practised skill. ‘All right,’ she said agreeably.

  So Dandy sat on the gate while I helped Jack wash Snow and brush and tack-up the little ponies in their bells and their plumes, and water and feed them with a little oats. Jack worked steadily but shot a glance now and then at Dandy as she sat on the gate with the evening sun all yellow and gold behind her, singing and plaiting her black hair.

  3

  We did not cross the muddy lane to the fairground until late that night after we had seen the whole show through again, and I had stayed behind to clean the horses and feed them for the night. I knew Dandy would not mind waiting, she sat placidly on the gate and watched Jack and me work.

  ‘I have tuppence to spend,’ I said exultantly as I came towards her, wiping my dirty hands on my equally dirty skirt.

  She smiled sweetly at that. ‘I have three shillings,’ she said. ‘I’ll give you one.’

  ‘Dandy!’ I exclaimed. ‘Whose pocket?’

  ‘The fat old gentleman,’ she said. ‘He gave me a halfpenny to fetch him a drink after he had missed the drink-seller. When I brought it back to him I was close enough to get my hand in his breeches pocket.’

  ‘Would he know you again?’ I asked worried.

  ‘Oh yes,’ she said. Dandy had known she was beautiful from childhood. ‘But I daresay he won’t think it was me. Anyway, let’s spend the money!’

  We stayed out until it was all gone and our pockets were crammed with fairings. Dandy would have picked another pocket or two in the crush but there were gangs of thieves working the fair and they would have spotted her, even if no one else had. She might talk her way out of trouble with an ageing gentleman, but if one of the leaders of the gangs of thieves caught her we would both have to turn out our pockets and give them everything we had – and get a beating into the bargain, too.

  It was dark when we crossed the lane b
ack to the field and our caravan and there were no lights showing at Gower’s wagon. I checked on our horses before I went in. The old hunter was lying down to sleep, I could only hope he would be able to get up in the morning. If he did not, Da would go wild. He was counting on a sale to pay for a horse he wanted to buy from one of the fairground showmen. And a dead horse is little profit, even when the butchers call it beef.

  We were all asleep when the caravan lurched and he fell in the doorway. Zima did not stir. She was lying on her back, snoring like a trooper, all tumbled into bed in her finery. I had seen a new gilt necklace around her neck and guessed that she had not been wasting her time while Da was out drinking. The caravan rocked like a ship in a storm at sea when Da blundered in and then bounced like a jogging horse when he tried to mount Zima, drunk as he was. I heard Dandy snigger under her blanket as we heard him curse and blame the ale, but I could not laugh. I turned my face to the familiar stained wall and thought of a sandstone-yellow house amid a tall well-timbered park and a stallion as white as sea spray trotting down the drive towards me as I stood on the terrace in a riding habit as green as grass with a clean linen petticoat.

  Da paid for his drinking in the morning, but Zima paid for it worst. He saw the gilt necklace and wanted the money she had been paid. She swore she had only had one man, and only been paid a shilling but he did not believe her and set to beating her with her shoe. Dandy and I made haste to get under the wheels of the wagon and well out of harm’s way. Dandy stopped to snatch up the baby and lug her to safety with us, and got a backhanded clout for her pains. She was soft-hearted about the little wretch, she was always afraid that Zima would throw it at Da in a rage.

  We were under the wagon with the swearing and breaking crockery loud above us when I saw Robert Gower come out on to his step with a mug of tea in his hand and his pipe in his mouth.

  He nodded good morning to us as if he was deaf to the thuds and screams from our wagon, and sat in the sunshine puffing on his pipe. Jack came out to sit beside his father, but we both stayed in our refuge. If Da was still angry he couldn’t reach us under the wagon unless he poked us out with the butt of the whip, and we were gambling he wouldn’t bend over with the beer still thudding in his head. It was getting quieter above, though Zima had started sobbing noisily, and then she stopped. Dandy and I sat tight until we were sure the storm was over, but Robert Gower walked towards our wagon and called out, ‘Joe Cox?’ when he was three paces from the shafts.

  Da came out, we felt the caravan rock above our heads and I pictured him, rubbing frowsty eyes and squinting at the sunlight.

  ‘You again,’ he said blankly. ‘I thought you didn’t want my fine hunter.’ He hawked and spat over the side of the wagon. ‘D’you want to buy that pretty little pony of ours? He’d look nicely in your show. Or the hunter’s still for sale.’

  The fine hunter was still lying down and looked less and less likely to get up. Da did not see it, he was watching Robert Gower’s face.

  ‘I’m interested in the pony if you can get it broken by the end of the week,’ Robert Gower said. ‘I’ve been watching your lass train it. I doubt she can do it.’

  Da spat again. ‘She’s an idle whelp,’ he said dismissively. ‘Her and her good-for-nothing sister. No kin of mine, and I’m saddled with them.’ He raised his voice. ‘And my wife’s a whore and a thief!’ he said louder. ‘And she’s foisted another damned girl brat on me.’

  Robert Gower nodded. His white shirt billowed at the sleeves in the clean morning air. ‘Too many mouths to feed,’ he said sympathetically. ‘No man can keep a family of five and make the profits a man needs.’

  Da sat down heavily on the step of the wagon. ‘And that’s the truth,’ he said. ‘Two useless girls, one useless whore, and one useless baby.’

  ‘Why not send them out to work?’ Robert suggested. ‘Girls can always make a living somehow.’

  ‘Soon as I can,’ Da promised. ‘I’ve never been fixed anywhere long enough to get them jobs, and I swore to their dead ma that I wouldn’t throw them out of her wagon. But soon as I can get them fixed…out they go.’

  ‘I’d take the littl’un,’ Robert Gower offered nonchalantly. ‘What’s she called? Merry something? She can work with my horses. She’s useless with anything bigger than a pony so she’d be little help to me. But I’d take her off your hands for you.’

  Da’s bare cracked feet appeared at the wheels at our heads as we crouched beneath the wagon. He slid off the step and went towards the shining topboots of Robert Gower. ‘You’d take Meridon?’ he said incredulously. ‘Take her to work for you?’

  ‘I might,’ Gower said. ‘If the terms were right with the pony.’

  There was a silence. ‘No,’ Da said, his voice suddenly soft. ‘I couldn’t spare her. I promised her ma, you see. I couldn’t just let her go unless I knew she was going to a good place with ready wages.’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ Robert Gower said and I saw his shiny black boots walk away. They went for three strides before Da’s dirty feet pattered after.

  ‘If you gave me her wages in advance, gave them to me, I’d consider it,’ he said. ‘I’d talk it over with her. She’s a bright girl, very sensible. Brilliant with horses you see. All of mine she trains for me. She’s gypsy you see, she can whisper a horse out of a field. I’d be lost without her. She’ll get that pony broken and ridable within a week. You see if she doesn’t. Perfect for your line of work, she is.’

  ‘Girls are ten a penny,’ Robert Gower said. ‘She’d cost me money in the first year or so. I’d do better taking a proper apprentice with a fee paid to me by his parents. If you’d been willing to give me a good price for the pony I’d have taken whatever-her-name-is off your hands for you. I’ve a big wagon, and I’m looking for a helper. But there’s a lot of bright lads who would suit me better.’

  ‘It’s a good pony though,’ Da said suddenly. ‘I’d want a good price for it.’

  ‘Like what?’ Robert Gower said.

  ‘Two pounds,’ Da said looking for a profit four times what he had paid for the animal.

  ‘A guinea,’ Robert Gower said at once.

  ‘One pound twelve shillings and Meridon,’ Da said. I could hear the urgency in his voice.

  ‘Done!’ Robert Gower said quickly and I knew Da had sold the pony too cheap. Then I gasped as I realized that he had sold me cheap too and, whether Da was hung-over or no, I should be in on this deal.

  I squirmed out from under the wagon and popped up at Da’s side as he spat into his palm to shake on the deal.

  ‘And Dandy,’ I said urgently, grabbing his arm but looking at Robert Gower. ‘Dandy and I go together.’

  Robert Gower looked at Da. ‘She’s idle,’ he said simply. ‘You said so yourself.’

  ‘She can cook,’ Da said desperately. ‘You want someone to keep your wagon nice. She’s a good girl for things like that.’

  Robert Gower glanced at his perfect linen and at Da’s torn shirt and said nothing.

  ‘I don’t need two girls,’ he said firmly. ‘I’m not paying that money for a cheap little pony and two girls to clutter up the wagon.’

  ‘I won’t come on my own,’ I said and my eyes were blazing green. ‘Dandy and I go together.’

  ‘You’ll do as you’re told!’ Da exclaimed in a rage. He made a grab for me but I ducked away and got behind Robert Gower.

  ‘Dandy’s useful,’ I said urgently. ‘She catches rabbits, and she can cook well. She can make wooden flowers and withy baskets. She can do card tricks and dance. She’s very very pretty, you could have her in the show. She could take the money at the gate. She only steals from strangers!’

  ‘Won’t you come on your own to be with my horses?’ Robert Gower said temptingly.

  ‘Not without Dandy,’ I said. My voice quavered as I saw my chance of getting away from Da and Zima and the filthy wagon and the miserable life fading fast. ‘I can’t go without Dandy! She’s the only person in the whole world that I love! If I
didn’t have her, I wouldn’t love anyone! And what would become of me if I didn’t love anyone at all?’

  Robert Gower looked at Da. ‘A guinea,’ he said. ‘A guinea for the pony and I’ll do you a favour and take both little sluts off your hands.’

  Da sighed with relief. ‘Done,’ he said and spat in his palm and they shook on the deal. ‘They can come to your wagon at once,’ he said. ‘I’m moving on today.’

  I watched him shamble back to the wagon. He was not moving on today. He was running away before Robert Gower changed his mind on the deal. He would celebrate getting a guinea for a pony and cheating Robert Gower – a warm man – out of an eleven shilling profit. But I had a feeling that Robert Gower had planned from the start to pay a guinea for the pony and for me. And maybe he knew from the start that he would have to take Dandy too.

  I went back to the wagon. Dandy wriggled out, pulling the baby behind her.

  ‘I want to take the babby,’ she said.

  ‘No Dandy,’ I said, as if I were very much older than her and very much wiser. ‘We’ve pushed our luck enough.’

  We were on our best behaviour for the rest of that week at the Salisbury fair. Dandy went out to the Common outside the town and brought back a meat dinner every day.

  ‘Where are you getting it from?’ I demanded in an urgent whisper as she spooned out a rabbit stew thick and chunky with meat.

  ‘There’s a kind gentleman in a big house on the Bath road,’ she said with quiet satisfaction.

  I put the bowls out on the table and dropped the horn-handled spoons with a clatter.

  ‘What d’you have to do for it?’ I asked anxiously.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said. She shot me a sly smile through a tumbling wave of black hair. ‘I just have to sit on his knee and cry and say, “Oh! Please don’t Daddy,” like that. Then he gives me a penny and sends me out through the kitchen and they give me a rabbit. He says I can have a pheasant tomorrow.’