Chances Page 5

  “Sounds to me like you know what you’re talking about.” Drake regards me thoughtfully but I don’t respond. Firstly, it’s none of his business and secondly I’m far too busy talking soothing nonsense to the horse to reply. Drake doesn’t say anything else but leans against the stable door, absent mindedly scratching the neck of an interested dapple grey until the new arrival’s flanks stop heaving and Chances is finally standing quietly.

  “I’m impressed, Amber Rumplestiltskin,” he says slowly. “Not many people could have handled that as well as you just did.”

  I’m surprised because I just did what I always do; imagine how the animal must feel and do my best to make it better.

  “I didn’t do anything special.”

  But Drake shakes his head. “I think I’ll be the judge of that. He’s a tricky one, I’ll have a beauty of a bruise to prove that much, and you did exactly the right thing with him.”

  Praise from Drake Owen about how I’ve dealt with a horse? I feel my face get hot and I focus on stroking Chances’ velvet soft nose.

  “So you know about horses then?” he continues. “Tack cleaning skills aside, can you ride?”

  “A bit,” I admit. “I used to have lessons as a kid but it all stopped when my dad left. There wasn’t a lot of money left for things like that after he went and I was busy looking after…” the feed bucket throat lump is back and I gulp it back the way I always do – by not talking about things. “Anyway, I don’t ride anymore.”

  “Well, you should,” Drake says firmly. “If you can ride half as well as you can handle horses then you’ll be brilliant. Do you fancy a job?”

  I look up and he’s staring at me, dark eyes narrowed speculatively. Framed by the stable door and with a grey thoroughbred beside him he looks so ridiculously like one of his posters from a pony magazine that I start to laugh.

  “I’m serious,” he insists. “That wasn’t a joke. We could do with a hand. What do you say?”

  I’d say that I must be dreaming. I’m also seriously tempted to take him up on it. Imagine working with these beautiful horses every day. I lean my head against Chances’ warm neck and for a moment I imagine I’m riding him, pushing him onwards towards a jump and feeling the power and molten fire of speed beneath me as he soars up and over as though flying…

  Then I remember dreams are all these ideas will ever because I’m not staying here, am I? The reality is that I’m truanting from my new school on my very first day and when Kate finds out she’s going to kick me out and send me back to Bristol where I’ll sort Mum out and get things back to normal. Or our version of it anyway. And we all know that normal on the Shakespeare Estate doesn’t involve riding three day eventers or spending time with gorgeous guys like Drake. No. The nearest I’ll ever get to a horse there is watching the morning line when I walk past Ladbrokes while doing my paper round.

  I feel a sharp stab of regret which makes me so angry because it’s all right for people like Drake Owen, isn’t it? I bet he was born with a whole stable full of gorgeous horses. What does he know about real life? What does he understand about wanting something so badly and knowing that you can never, ever have it?

  I shove the lead rope at him and step away.

  “No thanks,” I snap.

  And then I spin around on my heel and turning my back on him and Chances to storm down the drive. I can feel them both watching me all the way to the lane and it takes every inch of self control I posses not to turn around, run back and say yes please.

  The sooner I get away from here the better.

  Chapter 6

  “Where have you been?”

  Kate’s waiting for me when I arrive back at the farm house. I had rather hoped she’d be out cleaning or milking cows or whatever it is she does but no such luck. The school’s obviously phoned and told her that I walked out. I can tell this because her face is tight with worry. Doesn’t look good to lose your new foster child on the second day, I suppose. She probably thought I was hitching a ride back to Bristol.

  “The school called,” Kate continues. “I’ve been really worried. They said you left at ten past nine. That was ages ago.”

  I’m grudgingly impressed my new school’s so on the ball. Nobody notices if I don’t turn up at my usual place. Or maybe they do but are so glad I’m not in that they don’t make a fuss?

  Now there’s a thought.

  “I was walking back,” I say. “It’s a long way.”

  The truth is that after leaving Drake I couldn’t face anyone. I felt all shaken up, like a can of Coke in a rucksack, and I knew that if anyone said the wrong thing I would fizz everywhere. Instead of coming straight back to the farm I followed the lane out to the orchard where I’d found a relatively dry patch under the trees. Treacle meandered over and nudged me for titbits and I scratched his neck for a bit until he grew bored and returned to his grazing. Then I sat with my back against the damp bark and watched him until my heart beat slowed and I felt less likely to explode.

  Gnawing worry had soon replaced my bad temper. What on earth was I doing here, sitting under a tree moping? I didn’t have time for this. I messaged my neighbour to check on Scally, who was fine, and then I sent Mum a text but there was no reply. Maybe she didn’t feel like talking or maybe she was asleep? At least I knew she was safe, which was something, I supposed. I didn’t have much credit left so I didn’t try again. Besides, I didn’t know when I might need to make a call so I needed to save what little I still did have.

  Now I’m back Kate looks as though she wants to say more but just manages to stop herself in time.

  “You look frozen,” is all she says, ushering me into the kitchen and sitting me on the tatty sofa beside the Aga while she makes tea. Harry, already at the table and chowing down on a massive sandwich, gives me a look which could curdle the milk his mum’s pouring into my mug.

  “Day one and already truanting,” he remarks. “Could she be any more predictable, we ask?”

  I ignore him. I hadn’t realised how cold I was until I came inside. My fingers actually ache as the heat hits them. Saffy comes and leans against me and her heavy body feels solid and warm.

  Kate shoots him a warning look. “Not now, love.”

  “Yes, now,” Harry says. He pins me with a clear blue eyed gaze. “Mum’s been worried sick. She even got me to go out looking for you incase you were dead in a hedge somewhere.”

  He doesn’t add no such luck but I can tell he’s thinking it.

  “I didn’t ask you to do that,” I mutter.

  “No, Mum did!” Harry snaps. “Jeez, as if she’s not got enough to worry about without you being such a cliché. We all know you were brought here kicking and screaming. You don’t have to labour the point.”

  An image of Chances, hooves slicing through the air and whinnying shrilly, flashes through my mind’s eye. I wonder if he’s settled?

  “This has been a big upheaval for Amber,” Kate says gently, passing me a mug of tea.

  “She’s nearly sixteen. She knows the score,” Harry replied. “It’s not like we’re the first foster family she’s been placed with, is it?”

  Hardly. Fifth? Sixth? With any luck the Crewes will be the last. Once I’m sixteen it’s a whole different ball game.

  Kate leans against the Aga rail and smiles wearily. “But hopefully you’re going to like it here, Amber. I know it’s miles away from home and a big change but we’ll do our best to make it all OK.”

  Harry snorts. “You might. I’m not running around her. She’s big enough to know that this is a cushy number and if she isn’t?” He shrugs his broad shoulders and looks me full in the eye. “Well, let’s just say it’s time you stopped trying to save the world, Mum, and gave bed and breakfast a try. I bet those guests would at least be gracious and I wouldn’t have to stop ploughing to sort them out. Why bother with somebody who’s just having a strop?”

  “I wasn’t having a strop!” I glare at him and at this exact moment I actually think I hate Harry f
or so easily dismissing the hassle I’ve had this morning. It’s all right for him with his tractor and his mum and his own life. Nobody’s had a go at him about looking like he dresses in a charity shop, have they? For a second I’m tempted to tell them what really happened at school then I remind myself that there’s no point. I’m not staying anyway so why do they need to know?

  “That’s enough, Harry.” Kate’s voice is quiet but firm. To me she says, “I was worried about you, Amber. You don’t know the area and you could have been anywhere. You could have been knocked down.”

  “I wasn’t anywhere. I was at the Rectory Stables with Drake,” I say. “He gave me a lift back and showed me the horses.”

  “Drake Owen. I might have known he’d be involved.” Harry shoves his plate away as though just the mention of Drake is enough to ruin his appetite. “How typical. Now he’s encouraging school kids to truant.”

  “I’m not a school kid!”

  Harry’s blonde eyebrows rise. “You certainly behave like one and we can’t deny you’re a truant.”

  He should be a lawyer, not a farmer.

  “Drake didn’t encourage me to truant. He gave me a lift back,” I say. “He’s not done anything wrong.”

  “Ha!” Harry explodes from the table and starts to pace. The drama of this is ruined a bit because he’s wearing woolly socks but standing up he’s a lot taller than I realised and his anger seems to fill the kitchen. “Not done anything wrong? That’s a good one. Where shall we start?”

  “This is nothing to do with Amber,” Kate points out quickly.

  “It is if she’s decided he’s her new best friend,” Harry hisses. “It’s time she knew the truth.”

  I stare at him. Harry was techy with me yesterday but this is something else. White hot rage seems to consume him and his eyes are gas flame blue.

  “What truth?” I ask. Is this what Maddy was telling me about? That Drake Owen killed their father? I’d thought that was just a little kid exaggerating. I can’t see Drake Owen as a killer.

  Not unless his good looks make girls drop dead with longing anyway…

  “Harry,” says Kate but her son ignores the warning tone.

  “She needs to know, Mum, especially if we’re going to be stuck with her.” He stops his pacing and his hands bunch into fists. Harry’s cheekbones are stained pink, and his breathing’s ragged. “Drake’s father killed mine. That’s the truth.”

  Is he serious?

  “It’s not quite that simple,” Kate begins but Harry turns on her furiously.

  “Yes it is! When will you stop making excuses?” To me he says, “My dad was always working to try and make ends meet. Foot and mouth nearly wiped us out in my granddad’s day and ever since then we’ve been struggling. To earn extra money, Dad used to work for other farmers fencing or ploughing – extra hands are always needed. He was working on the Owens’ farm when there was a fatal tractor accident.”

  My dad was squashed by a tractor.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “Ben was killed.” Kate slumps at the table and places her face in her hands. She seems to sag, little more than sad heap of flowery smock, cheap jeans and a mop of hair greying at the roots. “It was an accident. A terrible, terrible accident.”

  “Except that an enquiry showed their machinery hadn’t been properly maintained,” Harry says angrily. “The Owens had been cutting corners. The court case might have recorded an open verdict but we all know it was their fault. Dad died because of them. Their negligence and greed cost my father his life.”

  Harry’s voice breaks and he looks away. I know he’s fighting not to lose control and I totally get that. The feeling of your throat tightening and your eyes prickling is a familiar one. I usually resort to my earring trick but Harry has to rely on sheer will power. I’m grudgingly impressed: he must be a really strong guy.

  “The Owens had to sell their farm to cover their legal costs but there was no compensation for us. Dad had let his life insurance lapse too so the rest you can probably figure out. Drake was desperate to find a place to keep his horses so he went to Malcolm and I quit college to run our farm.”

  Kate takes his hand.

  “I know how much you gave up, love.”

  “I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” says Harry fiercely. “But I never forget who’s to blame. Never. And I’ll never let anyone else hurt my family.”

  The message is clear but somehow I find I don’t resent hearing it. Kids protecting their mums is something I totally get. I can’t help thinking it’s a bit unfair Drake’s blamed for what his father did (I’d be in trouble if the same was true for me) but I like Harry’s loyalty.

  I feel bad for upsetting Kate. She’s got a whole set of her own problems without having to deal with mine too. I’m not such a lost cause that I can’t feel sympathy for other people.

  “I’m sorry, Kate,” I say. “I didn’t know.”

  She sighs. “You didn’t need to know, love. These aren’t your problems.”

  But Harry flings me a sharp look that says they will be if I mess up again. I know I’m not staying here and that I want to get kicked out but I don’t want to cause Kate Crewe any more grief. It sounds as though she’s had quite enough already and goodness knows why she wants to volunteer for more by taking in people like me. It’s all very noble but Harry’s right: bed and breakfast makes far more sense.

  “I won’t truant again,” I promise, silently adding while I’m at that school. “I’ll stick it out while I’m here. That won’t be long anyway. My mum will be better soon.”

  “Since I’ve confessed all our deepest secrets, what’s the deal with your mum? How come you’re in foster care?” Harry asks.

  Kate is horrified. “Harry Crewe! You can’t ask Amber that!”

  “I just did,” he says. “So?”

  “It’s on a needs to know base only,” I say automatically. This is my usual defense but Harry isn’t buying it. Instead he sits down at the table and regards me thoughtfully through narrowed eyes.

  “Fine. Since this is our Jeremy Kyle moment we might as well be honest. And anyway, I think I do need to know. If you’re going to be such a pain in the butt while we’re stuck with you then I may as well try and understand why.”

  “Now I know why you’re a pain in the butt, you mean?” I counter.

  Harry grins and it’s like the sun is coming out from behind clouds. Oh, what the heck? I may as well tell him. I’ll be gone soon so what does it matter if he knows the truth? He thinks I’m a lost cause anyway.

  “My mum’s in hospital right now. She’s mental. A nutter. A loony. Psycho. There. Happy? Good enough reasons for you?”

  I know my words are ugly but I want to shock him. These names are what people on our estate call Mum. They don’t understand the truth like I do. They don’t know how fragile and sweet she really is, how if I’m not there to make sure she takes her tablets then she starts to fray at the edges. They haven’t watched her rock and cry and talk to people who aren’t here. They haven’t come home from school to find her unconscious with an empty bottle clutched in her hand. They haven’t seen…seen…

  Anyway. That.

  Is is any wonder I can’t leave her? Once Dad walked out how could I go anywhere for long? She needs me.

  Harry stares at me. Take that, farm boy. If we’re playing Rubbish Family Trumps then I raise my mad mum against your dead dad. Next?

  “Anything else you need to know?” I demand.

  He shakes his head. “Err, no. Thanks.”

  “Amber’s mum, Sara, had a severe breakdown a few years ago,” Kate explains gently, which is a nicer way of saying it and the expression Dogood favours. “She’s very unwell again now and she needs to be in hospital where they can take specialist care of her.”

  That’s another way of putting it, I guess. It’s not what the graffiti on our stair well said, though. And for in hospital read sectioned.

  Put it this way; Mum didn’t exactly go quie
tly…

  “It’s technically called psychotic depression,” I say bluntly. Take that.

  “Sara’s been very unwell and she might be in hospital for a month or two this time, which is why Amber’s come here.” Kate gives me an encouraging smile. “It’s not forever though, love. Your mum will be out of hospital soon, I’m sure.”

  She will. I can guarantee it. Mum is constantly in and out of hospital. She’s like the NHS’s version of the Okey Cokey. I’m used to it though because I’ve been looking after her for a long time. That said, she has been especially bad lately and Dogood did say she could be in the hospital for a while. Hence me needing long term care and having to come here.

  The irony of that, eh? I’m usually the one who gives the care to her. Nobody usually looks after me so I’m not sure what the difference is just because Mum’s in hospital. If anything, my life’s slightly less complicated with the doctors taking care of her.

  Harry doesn’t say much more after this. He pulls his overalls and boots back on and returns to the farm work while Kate meets Maddy from the bus. I wander outside and poke around the yard for a bit but it’s pretty depressing because everything’s looking tired. From the flaking paint to the gates tied with string to the weed choked flower beds, Perranview Farm is in a bad way. I hide away in my attic bedroom for the rest of the afternoon, ignoring Maddy when she calls to me, and staring up at the ceiling. Talking about Mum has brought everything into really sharp focus and the events of the past couple of days play out again. I feel for Harry and Kate and Maddy, I do. I really do. But Mum has to be my priority.

  I don’t know how long I lie on my bed. Long enough for the sun to start to sink. It’s only when I hear the metallic clatter of horse shoes on tarmac and a shout that I move. Crossing the room to the window, my heart skips a beat when I see a horse cantering sideways down the road, foam like egg white flying from his mouth and with his head yanked in with a bungee cord. The rider holds the reins so tightly that all the horse can do is dance and spin and each time he does she brings her whip down with a thwack on his shoulder before jabbing her spurs into his heaving flanks.