It was Christmas Eve. The Mulligans were coming to take Brat home – if she turned out to be their horse. There was little doubt about it. Brat pricked up her ears as soon as she saw their float pull up. She whinnied, cantering around the paddock in circles and tossing her head. Shelby's mum stood with her arm around her daughter's shoulders.
Mr Mulligan was a bald, short, roly-poly man with a big smile. His three daughters, Sarah, Louise and Amy, spilled out of the car behind him chattering with excitement.
'Daddy, she remembers us,' said the middle daughter.
'Of course she does,' said the eldest, as she headed towards the fence. Brat skidded to a stop, craning her neck over the wire.
'Why is she pink?' asked the youngest daughter, reaching up with her small podgy hand.
'Because the bad man dyed her,' answered the eldest.
Mr Mulligan extended a hand to Shelby's mother and she took it. 'Nice to meet you.'
'I can't begin to tell you what a relief this is,' he said, turning to watch his daughters slip through the rails, clustering around Brat. He was fiddling with a small book he was holding. 'We were certain we were never going to see her again. I'm sure you can imagine.'
'We don't need to imagine,' replied Shelby's mother with a tight smile.
'Oh, yes. Of course. I'm terribly sorry. I only hope someone will be as honest as you've been.'
Shelby's mother nodded.
He opened the book. It was a photo album. 'I brought these, just in case. I'm sure we will all be more suspicious now, when it comes to these sorts of things.'
Shelby and her mother leaned forward so that they could see more clearly. He flicked through the pages. 'This is the day that she first arrived. Amy is just a wee tot there. This is our place with the three ponies in the yards. Here are all the girls together. Sarah's on a Galloway, but Poppy was always her favourite. And here, on Poppy's birthday. Louise put a party hat over her ear, but she shook it off just after the photo was taken. This is Sarah and Poppy at their first show together.'
'Poppy?' said Shelby.
'Yes, Popcorn. We called her that because when she first came to us she was all white and fluffy. What have you been calling her?'
'The man said her name was Maxshine Celtic Copper, but it turned out to be the colour that he dyed her.'
The man laughed. 'What a cheeky devil. I'll have to remember to tell my wife – she's a Maxshine blonde.'
Shelby looked at each of the photos as he flipped through them. The girls were smiling and Brat looked relaxed and content. Shelby didn't have many photos of Blue – just a few fuzzy ones that she had taken herself with an instant camera, and only one with her and Blue together. She'd put her arm around his neck and then held the camera as far away from them as she could, but she'd held it up too high, and you could only see half of their faces. It made her feel sadder than ever. She didn't have evidence of all the happy times they'd had together like the Mulligans did, and now she might never get the chance. It was as though a whole era in her life had been wiped away.
The man snapped the book shut. 'So, are you convinced that she's ours?'
Shelby squinted into the sunshine. 'I could tell as soon as you arrived.'
The man nodded. He jingled his car keys. 'If there's anything we can do – if they catch him, we can do an identity line-up.'
Shelby's mother thanked him.
Mr Mulligan told the girls to get their things. The eldest girl opened the boot of the car and pulled out a white cotton rug, a blue halter and some matching float boots. She passed them out to the other girls and they whipped around Brat, getting her ready for the journey.
As the rug settled over Brat's back, Shelby could see that the word 'Poppy' had been embroidered across the side in pastel thread. The rug fitted perfectly, as though it had been made for her.
Shelby crossed one leg over the other and watched them wistfully. They were good owners. They had the money to look after Brat properly. They had parents who were interested in ponies too. Brat would be very happy with them.
Mr Mulligan lowered the back of the float and the two younger girls coaxed Brat on board. Sarah opened the car door and leaned across the back seat, pulling out an enormous basket, wrapped in red and green cellophane and tied at the top with a plastic sprig of holly.
The three girls then lined up in front of Shelby and her mother. 'We brought you a present to say thank you very much for looking after Poppy.'
Sarah thrust the basket towards Shelby and she took it. Shelby wanted to peer in through the cellophane to see what was inside, but she thought it would be rude.
'Really, there's no need,' said Shelby's mother, embarrassed.
'No, please. I insist,' said Mr Mulligan, looking her in the eye. 'You've done a wonderful thing for our family. You know what kind of world we live in. A lot of people wouldn't have phoned.'
Shelby's mother blushed.
'If there is anything we can do – really. It would be a pleasure.'
Shelby and her mother waved to the Mulligans as they drove away. As soon as they were around the corner, Shelby turned back to the paddock. The sliprail was down. It was so empty. Shelby put her hands over her face and cried.