A Whisper of Horses by Zillah Bethell

Author:Zillah Bethell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Feiwel & Friends

chapter 22

ASHDOWN

NOT THAT FAR from the Uffington Horse, Trott made the train slow down and let it totter itself to a stop just past a road bridge. As the engine gave its final dying lurch, Tab’s arms seemed to miraculously separate from the stick of metal about which they’d been wrapped for the last hour or two.

“There we are.” Wessex grabbed a dirty rag and started wiping his hands. “This is where we get off.”

Trott tugged on a few things and threw water into the firebox before straightening up the shovels and the supply of coal.

I looked outside.

“Where are we?”

“A few miles north of Ashdown.”

“Ashdown?”

Trott spun around to glare at me. “His Lordship’s ancestral home, of course.”

Lordship?

“Don’t forget Mouse.” It was only the second time that Tab had spoken since boarding the train. “He’ll be scared left alone back there.” His voice seemed to stutter and squeak.

Trott clambered down the ladder with Wessex close behind. They lowered both Tab and me to the ground and the cool air hit my face for the first time in however long. Wessex walked back to the carriage and popped open one of the doors.

“Out you come, chappie.”

Mouse jumped out, his tail quivering like a twig in the breeze as he skittered happily around the young man’s legs. He didn’t even seem to notice Tab, who, obviously feeling a bit put out by the attention Wessex was getting from the flaky mutt, stepped forward and called out to his dog.

“Oy! Mousie.”

Mouse stopped suddenly, looking as though he was thinking hard about who his master was, before scampering over to Tab’s feet. Tab bent over and gave Mouse a tiny tap on the head. “You alright, boy?”

“We’ll leave all this now, Trott.” Wessex indicated the carriage full of supplies behind him. “Let’s get back to Ashdown and get tidied up.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And besides.” He turned and grinned at Tab and myself. “We have guests.”

Trott tried unsuccessfully not to sigh. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

Some steps to the side of the bridge led up onto the road above and there, sitting on the verge, was a different kind of modpod. I recognized it—I had seen pictures of them before, but to see one in the shiny metal flesh was something else altogether. A car. A really, really old car from the beginning of time. It had a soft, floppy roof, a running board, a spare tire fixed to its backside and large, glarey lights that looked a little like shocked-opened eyes. And it was pitchety black, glossy and solid-looking—not like the weak and white plastic modpods that Aus drove back in Lahn Dan. They always had the look of something that would snap in two if they went over a dodgy manhole cover. But this … this was built to last. And it had lasted. A couple of hundred years by my reckoning.

“Nice wheels.” Tab whistled, sounding like he was merely repeating something that he had heard somebody else say.

“You like cars, Tab? Know much about them?” Wessex pulled the driver’s door open and gestured to everyone to get in.

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