CHAPTER 4

The Bass family’s old brick farmhouse with stone floors certainly had its benefits. It may have been chilly in the winter, but in this, the hottest of summers, it was staying nice and cool. The next morning, Charlie, Polly and the boys sat round the big old wooden table in the kitchen. They were watching Charlotte Dujardin’s freestyle dressage routine from London 2012.

‘See there, when he looks as if he’s prancing?’ Charlie pointed to the screen. ‘That’s called passage.’ She pronounced the word as if it was in French – pas-arge. ‘It’s an elevated trot so the knees have to come right up. It’s all about showing power. You see how the legs seem to hang in the air before they come down again? It’s brilliant. And then here –’ she pressed Pause on the screen, pointed, and then let it play on – ‘you see she’s keeping him on the one spot as he trots. That’s called a piaffe.’

‘Gosh, it really is like dancing,’ said Harry.

‘And when you hear it with the music –’ Larry turned up the volume – ‘you can tell how good it is. Valegro is trotting in time with the beat. Now, that’s clever! And there, where he goes into extended trot for the James Bond music – it’s brilliant.’

Charlie never imagined she could sit and discuss dressage with her brothers. They had always teased her about her fascination with equestrian sport and mocked her for wanting to watch Olympia at Christmas time or the Grand Prix at the World Equestrian Games. Now they were engrossed.

‘This would be so cool for the blog,’ Larry said under his breath to Harry.

‘Get outta my head!’ his older brother replied. ‘I was already planning this wicked film sequence where you only see his feet or his neck or his ears and then, like, a week later, we reveal that it’s actually Noble Warrior doing dressage.’

‘Do you reckon the aisles of the supermarket are wide enough for him to do a piaffe?’

‘Look at this bit. He’s skipping!’ Harry said hastily, spotting Charlie’s expression.

Larry rewound the film so he could watch the flying changes again. Every other stride, Valegro changed his lead leg from left to right to left to right again. Charlotte Dujardin barely moved at all apart from a tiny adjustment with her leg that shifted her hips from one side to the other. Her hands stayed level and her upper body rock solid.

‘Now that is core strength.’ Polly was impressed.

Charlotte Dujardin came to the end of her routine, bowed her head to the judges and smiled. The crowd started cheering and the commentator sounded as if he was in tears, his voice cracked with emotion. Charlotte dropped the reins and patted Valegro on both sides of his neck. He transformed instantly from a high-class performer, ready and alert for the next move, to being an old dobbin coming home from a hack.

Larry sniffed and wiped away a tear. ‘It’s beautiful.’ Charlie wasn’t sure whether he was mocking her.

Harry dug him in the ribs. ‘Don’t be so soft,’ he scoffed. ‘You knew she won the gold medal before we even started watching. We couldn’t have missed it if we tried, what with Charlie banging on and on about it. It was all she would talk about when she was six.’

Larry sniffed again. ‘I was not crying,’ he protested. ‘I’m getting a cold.’

Charlie took the laptop and tapped away on the screen. ‘There’s something else I want to show you,’ she said. She pressed Play on the video. Polly leaned in.

On the screen was another dressage test. The arena in Greenwich looked the same and the purple banners said ‘London 2012’. The rider raised an arm to signal for the music to start.

‘Wow, what a beautiful horse,’ Polly said as they watched the woman and her horse enter the arena. Then she noticed something.

‘She hasn’t got any stirrups,’ she said, pointing to the screen. ‘Why would you make it even harder for yourself like that?’

They watched the rider ask her horse to move forward into canter. The stunning jet-black animal kept his neck arched and smoothly changed his stride into an even, rhythmic canter. His tail flowed out behind him as the rider sat tall and proud. Polly was mesmerized.

After a minute, Charlie spoke. ‘She can’t walk.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Polly retorted. ‘You can’t ride like that if you can’t use your legs.’

‘Look carefully – she’s talking to her horse. She uses verbal commands and if you look at her bottom, that’s where all the strength is coming from.’

Polly shook her head in disbelief.

‘I looked it up,’ Charlie continued. ‘She’s called Natasha Baker and the horse is Cabral. When she was only fourteen months old she got a virus called transverse my-ah …’ She paused and looked at something she had written in her notebook. ‘Myalye-tiss, that’s it. Transverse myelitis. It’s known as TM. It’s a neurological condition so it comes from the brain, but it affects the spinal cord and makes it swell up.’

Polly couldn’t take her eyes off the screen as she watched Natasha and Cabral do the most extravagant extended trot diagonally across the arena.

‘She had permanent nerve damage and it means she can’t feel anything in her legs. Her balance is affected as well.’

‘You wouldn’t think it watching this,’ said Larry.

‘I know,’ replied Charlie, who had really done her homework. ‘That’s why I wanted you to see it. Her website says she went to Riding for the Disabled when she was nine years old – her physio had recommended it – and now she’s won five gold medals at two Paralympic Games.’

Polly’s eyes widened like a kitten spotting a toy.

‘That’s incredible.’ Her voice sounded croaky.

Charlie touched her arm. ‘You see? You can still do anything,’ she said quietly. ‘You might have to do it differently, but it doesn’t mean it can’t be done.’

Polly bit her bottom lip and stared at the screen. The boys leaped up and headed outside. They’d been sitting down chatting pleasantly for at least twenty minutes, which was a new personal best. It must now be time for a fight.

‘Shall we go out and see the horses?’ Charlie asked.

Polly nodded. She picked up her crutch, pushed herself from the chair and went out into the farmyard. They discussed dressage movements and how they dated back to the time of the Ancient Greeks, who valued horsemanship as a skill. The Greeks thought it could be useful to have a horse who would rear on command or could spin round in a tiny space and gallop off in the opposite direction. They talked about the Spanish Riding School in Vienna, which had taken the idea of equine performance to a whole new level in the sixteenth century and the Cadre Noir, the group of officers in the French cavalry who were famed for their riding ability.

The girls were lost in a world of horsey dreams, sharing their appreciation of skilled riding and their understanding of good training. Since Polly’s accident, Charlie had been very careful not to talk about horses too much because she didn’t want her friend to feel sad about the thing she had loved and seemed to have lost. This felt new and exciting.

‘I think we need to write up a training schedule,’ Polly said. ‘My physio did one for me but I ripped it up.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I wasn’t hitting the targets on the dates I was meant to and it just made me dep–’ Polly broke off mid-word. ‘It made me annoyed. So I ripped it up into tiny pieces and threw it in the bin.’

Charlie looked at her friend in shock. This didn’t sound like the Polly she knew. She realized Polly might be dealing with things she had no idea about. Things that Polly had hidden from her.

They reached the gate to the field. Charlie whistled loudly and watched as Percy raised his head and looked at them. She waved a carrot in the air. That did the trick and Percy started lumbering towards them, Noble Warrior following elegantly behind.

She gave Percy the carrot, which was a little disappointing for him, as he would have preferred a packet of mints, twenty cubes of sugar and a few apples. The only thing he had gone off in the last year or so was bananas, after the kidnappers had used them to poison him when they grabbed Noble Warrior from under his nose.

Charlie put a headcollar on Noble Warrior and led him towards the barn so that she could groom him. Percy followed.

Boris trotted ahead of them, raising one hind leg and hopping along on three legs.

‘Is he doing that to make me feel better?’ Polly laughed.

‘No,’ Charlie said. ‘He’s always done it. I think it’s a Border terrier thing. He’s not self-conscious about it, that’s for sure.’

Polly found she could brush Noble Warrior without her crutch. She used her left hand to balance herself on his body and the other to brush energetically with long smooth strokes. Soon his coat started to gleam and his mane and tail flowed straight and soft.

‘He’ll feel better already,’ said Polly as she stood back to admire her work. ‘I know I only started to feel human again when I got home from the hospital and was allowed to have a shower. The relief of being clean all over!’

Charlie held two sets of racing girths in her hands. She buckled one to the other so that they could stretch right round Noble Warrior’s tummy. She had wound together more baler twine to make two reins, which she looped through the girth and doubled back to the bit rings on his bridle.

‘What are you doing?’ Polly asked.

‘I’m making draw reins. They’ll help keep his head down low so that when we work him he’s arching his neck and he’s really using his back. I’m not going to do them very tight because I don’t want him to feel restricted, but I saw it on a Carl Hester dressage masterclass and I think it’ll help Noddy build the muscles he needs in his neck and across his back.’

Charlie led Noble Warrior into the field and over to the home-made arena and started to lunge him round her. Polly had asked Charlie’s brothers to drag a couple of straw bales to the edge of the arena so that she could sit comfortably and watch. They had built a big straw sofa with two bales as a back support and one bale at the front to sit on.

‘Is that OK?’ Larry asked, placing a rug over the straw so that it wasn’t so prickly.

‘That’s great. Thanks so much.’ Polly smiled at him. ‘Could you do me a big favour?’

‘Sure.’

‘Could you bring me a pad and a pencil? I need to start working up a schedule so that we can give him a gradual programme over the next six months.’

Larry ran towards the house and was back again within minutes.

‘Could you make it a bit sooner than that?’ he asked as he thrust the pad at Polly.

‘Why?’

‘It’s just that the supermarket opening is in October and it would really help us if he was looking, you know, a bit more like a horse who might once have been capable of winning the Derby!’

Polly bit her lip. ‘You know your sister’s really not happy about the supermarket idea.’

‘Yeah. I know she won’t listen to us. But …’ He paused. ‘She might listen to you …’

Charlie was oblivious to everything but the movement of the horse around her. Having walked Noble Warrior for ten minutes in each direction, she decided it was time for a change of gear.

She clicked her tongue to ask him to move forward into trot. He rounded his neck and she could see the power coming through from his back end. Soon he was glistening with sweat as she worked him on both reins.

‘That’s a good boy.’ She kept encouraging him to keep up the energy. ‘It’s all about power, not pace.’

Finally, she asked him to move forward into canter.

‘Wow!’ Polly shouted from the edge of the arena. ‘Look at him move. He’s so well balanced and he looks to have a lovely comfortable motion. I bet he’d feel like a rocking horse to ride.’

Charlie eased Noble Warrior back to a walk and undid the draw reins. She let him lower his head and stretch out, walking in a larger circle so that he could really loosen up. He was blowing with the effort and his skin was dark with sweat.

‘That’ll do for day two, I think,’ she said.

Polly heaved herself up from the straw bales and leaned on her crutch for support. She held her pad in the other hand.

‘That’s plenty and, to be honest, I wouldn’t do more than that until at least week three,’ she said. ‘I’ve made a chart here and I reckon you’ll have him looking sleek and toned by the end of September.’

Charlie smiled. ‘This is fun. I like the idea of having a goal for him and I think he’s enjoying it too.’ She patted Noddy’s warm neck. ‘Fancy a lift back? It’ll be a bit warm up there, but you’ve got trousers on so it won’t feel too sweaty.’

This time Polly didn’t hesitate. She used the straw sofa she’d been sitting on, climbing on to the top of it to get herself level with the horse’s back.

Charlie looked towards the farmhouse to check no one was watching. She could see the boys collecting eggs, and above that she thought she saw a shadow pass across her bedroom window.

‘Good boy.’ Polly heaved herself into position and patted Noble Warrior’s neck. Then Charlie led him away from the dressage arena back towards the stables. She could hear Polly quietly singing to herself.

Suddenly, a loud bang caused the chickens to squawk and scatter. Even Percy lifted his head in surprise and came trotting towards them. Noble Warrior immediately tensed up. His tail lifted into the air and he started to prance.

Polly gasped.

‘It’s OK, Noddy,’ Charlie tried to keep her voice calm, but Noble Warrior’s eyes were popping out of his head. ‘It was just the tractor dropping something near the milking shed. There we go, it’s all OK, no need to panic.’

She glanced back at Polly, who was wincing in pain.

‘I can’t keep myself in the middle of his back!’ There was desperation in her voice.

Charlie tried to grab her leg to help her stay in position, but it was too late. Polly started sliding to the right. She didn’t have the power in her left side to keep herself up. Charlie switched sides, but wasn’t in time – and as Polly fell into a crumpled heap, Noble Warrior stopped prancing. He stood still and looked round at her.

Charlie helped Polly to her feet, her heart thumping.

‘Are you OK?’

‘I feel such an idiot. That all happened in slow motion and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. It’s just so stupid.’ Polly hit her left leg with her right hand. ‘It’s all your fault. Useless leg. Useless!’

Charlie put a comforting arm round her shoulder. ‘I know. I know how you feel.’

Polly glared at her. ‘How? How do you know? You have no idea!’

She sat down again and hit the ground. Noble Warrior took two steps backwards and placed his head in Polly’s lap. He nudged her gently in the chest, forcing her to look at him.

Charlie knew that Noble Warrior was a sensitive soul and he would never intentionally hurt anyone. He only behaved badly when he was scared.

‘I suppose you’re trying to tell me to get back on, aren’t you?’ Polly said to the horse.

Charlie said nothing and watched as Noddy nudged her again, very gently. She could see her friend silently mouthing numbers. She was counting to ten.

‘OK. You win. Charlie, will you help me back on him?’

‘Are you girls all right?’ Charlie heard her mother’s voice calling to them.

‘Quick!’ she said. ‘Let’s get you up on your feet. Here, lean on him for support.’

She helped Polly to her feet and encouraged her to rest on Noddy’s shoulder.

‘Yes, Mum, we’re fine,’ Charlie called back.

Caroline Bass appeared, walking purposefully towards them. Charlie hoped she hadn’t seen what had just happened.

‘I was just checking Noddy didn’t get scared. Dad was unloading the extra feed for the cows and he made a right racket. Was he OK?’

‘Yes, Mrs Bass, he was fine,’ Polly answered quickly. ‘He’s so much less jumpy these days. I really think he’s grown up.’

‘Hmm. Has he?’ Mrs Bass looked at both of the girls and at the horse between them, and raised her left eyebrow. ‘Are you sure it’s wise to be walking without your crutch, Polly?’

Charlie bit her lip. Her mother always seemed to know when something was up.

‘Oh, silly me, I left it by the arena,’ Polly replied calmly. ‘I was leaning against Noddy instead. He’s far better than a crutch!’

‘Were you indeed? Well, you just be careful because if I return you to your mother in a worse state than she brought you in, I don’t think she’ll be letting you come and stay again.’

Polly laughed lightly. ‘Oh, Mrs Bass, don’t you worry. I’m getting stronger every day.’

‘Well, that’s very good to hear. Now why don’t you and Charlie make your way steadily back to the stables and I’ll just grab your crutch and meet you there.’

‘Thanks, Mum,’ said Charlie.

Mr Williams came to pick up his daughter the next day.

‘Hi, Charlie. How’s Noble Warrior coming along?’ he asked. ‘I hope you’re keeping him busy. You can’t let racehorses do nothing at all. It’s not what they’re bred for.’

‘Oh, he’s great, Mr Williams. Polly and I have devised a training schedule for him. We’re using dressage to get him fit and he’s really taken to it.’ She didn’t mention the supermarket. The more she thought about it, the more she cringed at the thought of Noddy prancing up and down the aisles.

Mr Williams smiled at Polly. ‘Are you helping out, love? That’s great news. It’ll do you both the world of good.’

Polly beamed at her father. ‘It’s helping Noddy out of his depression,’ she said. ‘It’s already making a difference, I think.’

Mr Williams smiled, taking Polly’s crutch as she got into the car. Charlie went to the passenger door to talk to her about when she could next come and stay. As they said goodbye, she saw Mr Williams give her mother a small leather bag – probably a present to say thank you.

She waved as the Williamses’ car pulled away, already excited about the next time she would see her friend.