The Lost Pony of Riverdale

Chapter 3

  Disbelief and disappointment swept over Poppy. She felt Tory looking at her, the old woman’s snowy eyebrows raised in concern. Tory watched the expression on Poppy’s face change from excitement to shock. The girl looked crushed.

  “Did you think Chester was a pony? Oh, love, he’s my donkey. I’ve had him since he was a foal. I’ve told him all about you. He’s very pleased that you’re going to be looking after him from now on.” Tory called softly to the donkey, who came over and nuzzled her outstretched hand.

  Tears threatening, Poppy mumbled an apology and ran back through the house and out of the front door. Charlie was sitting on the doorstep with the cat basket on his lap, talking to Magpie. Her dad had started unloading the car and Caroline was issuing orders to the removal men.

  “Dad - you said there was a pony here. It’s a donkey! You lied to me! How could you?” The lump in her throat stopped her saying any more but tears started sliding down her cheeks. She brushed them away with the back of her hand.

  “A donkey! A donkey! Poppy’s pony’s a donkey! Wait until Hannah finds out! Serves you right for being such a show-off,” crowed Charlie from behind Magpie’s basket.

  “Charlie, that’s enough. Poppy, I don’t understand. The estate agent was a bit vague but he definitely said it was a pony, at least I thought he did.”

  Poppy refused to meet her dad’s eyes as she kicked the ground viciously. Caroline broke the silence. “Still, a donkey - how sweet. I know we were all expecting a pony but surely a donkey is better than nothing?”

  Poppy rounded on her stepmother. “You don’t understand. You never do! What use is a donkey? I can’t ride that - I’d be a laughing stock. I hate you!”

  Shocked by the venom of Poppy’s outburst, Caroline flinched and turned away. Poppy stormed off down the drive, her back rigid with tension. Halfway down the track she paused for a moment before climbing over a five bar gate into the larger of Riverdale’s two paddocks. She headed towards the far side of the field, where grass gave way to a band of thick woodland. She needed to get as far away as possible. Once she’d reached the post and rail fence that marked Riverdale’s boundary she sat down, facing the trees.

  Poppy knew better than most how unfair life could be and if she was being honest she knew this latest disappointment wasn’t the end of the world. As her dad was fond of saying, worse things happen at sea. Yet she felt bereft. All her life she had fantasised about having her own pony. While some children had imaginary friends, Poppy had had an imaginary Welsh Mountain pony called Smudge when she was younger. She’d made him a stable behind the shed at the bottom of the garden and spent hours constructing cross country courses using bricks and bamboo canes. Eventually she outgrew Smudge but she never outgrew her passion. Some of the luckier girls at school had riding lessons every Saturday morning and she’d eavesdropped conversations about their exploits and the different ponies they rode, longing to be just like them. Her best friend Hannah wasn’t interested in horses. She wanted to be a pop star when she grew up and couldn’t understand Poppy’s fixation. Then her dad had told her about the pony at Riverdale and she’d spent the last three months believing that her dream was finally going to come true. How stupid she’d been.

  Half an hour later her dad came to find her.

  “I thought I’d give you time to calm down,” he said mildly, sitting on the grass beside her. Poppy still felt a huge weight of disappointment but now she’d cooled off it was tinged with shame at her outburst, which she knew had been totally uncalled for. She’d felt an instant liking for Tory and the old woman must have thought she was a spoilt London brat. And Poppy felt increasingly uncomfortable when she remembered how hard she’d been on Caroline.

  “Tory’s been asking after you. She feels that it’s somehow her fault. And Caroline was only trying to cheer you up. There was no need to take it out on her, Poppy.”

  Her dad looked tired and Poppy felt mortified. She hated upsetting him.

  “I’m sorry, Dad. I’ll go and apologise to them both. It’s just - it’s just I was so excited. And now there’s nothing for me here. I’d rather be in Twickenham.”

  “Don’t be silly, of course there is. For starters, you need to come and learn how to look after Chester. You wouldn’t leave him at the mercy of your brother would you?”

  Poppy managed a weak smile. “No, I suppose not. Charlie would probably end up using him for jousting practice or something. You go first. I’ll be over in a minute.”

  She sat for a few moments more, thinking about Chester the donkey and the pony that never was. One day she’d probably be able to laugh at the afternoon’s turn of events, but not quite yet. She took a deep breath and prepared to face the music.

  As Poppy stood up and brushed the dust from her jeans something caught her eye and she glanced into the wood. She thought she saw a flash of white in the trees. She paused, looked again, but there was nothing there except dark brown, tightly woven branches, heavy with leaves. Shrugging her shoulders she set off back across the field to the house.