The Impossible Horse by Christine Pullein-Thompson

Author:Christine Pullein-Thompson [Pullein-Thompson, Christine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jane Badger Books

9

I WAKENED next morning and it was still raining. My shoulder was stiff, and yesterday came back to me with hideous clarity … . I thought, I’d better get up. I felt limp and I had an awful sense of having missed something. For a moment I couldn’t think why. Then I remembered that Guy had gone without saying goodbye.

I got out of bed then and looked at myself in the mirror. My face was pale and there was some mud on my forehead. I thought, everything’s gone wrong, Benedictine, Guy, myself. I sat on the bed again and tried to think; that I must continue riding was obvious, and there was no reason why I shouldn’t manage it in one hand. Grooming and feeding the horses was more of a problem, but somehow I would manage. My watch told me it was eight o’clock. There was no sound from the kitchen, nor from the bathroom where Daddy would generally be having his bath at this time. I wondered what had happened. I drew back my curtains and then I knew—in the stable yard Mummy and Daddy were mucking out the boxes. Mummy was wearing a pair of my dungarees turned up at the bottoms and secured by a belt, Daddy had on his oldest trousers and a fisherman’s jersey. They were in a great hurry. Obviously they wanted to have everything done before I appeared. I sat on my bed for a moment after that and thought how wonderful my parents were and tried to imagine Mr. and Mrs. Stanmore cleaning out boxes for their daughters. I thought, if I have children I shall try to be as good as they are, and then I dressed and went downstairs and out into the yard.

“Hullo,” cried Mummy, “you’re just in time. We’ve just finished.”

I didn’t know what to say. Daddy was putting the tools away; he looked like a tall fair-skinned Swedish fisherman.

I said, “Thank you so much, you shouldn’t have bothered.” It sounded hopelessly inadequate and it didn’t say what I felt.

“Gosh, that black is a bad-tempered brute!” exclaimed Daddy wiping his hands on the seat of his trousers. “He nearly bit me twice.”

I had to laugh then. I thought of Daddy dodging Velveteen.

“You heartless girl,” Daddy said.

“Thank you so much,” I said again.

“Don’t mench,” Daddy replied. “I enjoyed it—made me feel years younger.”

We went indoors. My sense of failure had vanished; suddenly it was good to be alive. At least I’ve got a second chance with Benedictine, I thought, and if I don’t see Guy again it won’t be the end of the world.

Daddy disappeared to change. Mummy and I got breakfast. The kitchen was wonderfully warm. Mummy looked very young in my dungarees, her hair was wet, and rain glistened on her cheeks.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Fine, thank you,” I said. My arm had ceased to ache. I had temporarily forgotten my shoulder.

“You ought to get someone to help you,” Mummy told me. “What about Angela?”

Angela loved horses but for some unknown reason she wouldn’t ride them.

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