Alice-Miranda’s last lesson of the day was PE and involved a challenging obstacle course and cross-country run devised by Miss Wall. Back in the classroom, Millie thought her brain was going to explode as Mrs Clinch explained quadratic equations for the umpteenth time and she still didn’t have the foggiest. She’d have to ask Alice-Miranda to help with her homework again and see if she could make heads or tails of things.
The friends had passed each other on the way to last period and agreed to catch up at the stables after school. When Alice-Miranda had visited the Fayle sisters at lunchtime, Millie had gone in search of Miss Reedy to ask if she could muck out the stalls and feed the ponies as part of her punishment – that way she could see Chops even if she couldn’t ride him. Fortunately, the woman’s mood had lifted and she agreed, commenting that she was impressed Millie had wanted to make a start on her service work so soon.
Alice-Miranda was going to pay Bony a quick visit and check that the stone bruise on his foot was healing. When she and Millie had been out riding a week ago, the poor boy had managed to get a large pebble lodged in the cleft of his near front hoof. Charlie had offered to phone the vet, but Alice-Miranda opted to make a poultice and keep an eye on him. It wasn’t the first time the pony had suffered the injury and she was keen to see if she could deal with it herself. The good news was that Bony had been improving each day.
‘Hello!’ Alice-Miranda called, her voice echoing through the stone building.
Bonaparte whinnied loudly in reply, then thrust his head over the timber stall door and snorted.
‘Well, good afternoon to you too.’ Alice-Miranda walked over and gave the pony a rub on his nose. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen Millie?’
Bonaparte reached around and nibbled the girl’s hair.
‘Oi, stop that,’ she said. There were a few long strands dangling from the beast’s lips. She hurried off to the feed bins and lifted several lids before finding a stash of carrots.
Outside, a rhythmic kerthumping sound gave away Millie’s location. Moments later, she trudged in, pushing a wheelbarrow piled high with fresh straw bales. The new stablehand, a stout young woman named Dervla Nichols, was walking beside the barrow and holding on to the load to make sure it didn’t topple over on the uneven cobblestones.
Millie let go of the handles with a grunt, dropping the cargo to the ground. She wiped the back of her sweaty forehead with her hand and sighed. ‘Maybe I should have volunteered to tutor one of the junior girls instead.’
‘I can help,’ Alice-Miranda offered. She held out the carrot to Bony, who hoovered it from her hand in a heartbeat.
Millie fetched a pair of scissors from the storeroom to cut the twine on the bales while Dervla began to unload them, one outside each stall. ‘Thanks, but if Miss Reedy thought I was getting off lightly, she’d double my sentence,’ Millie grumbled. ‘Anyway, we can’t stay long this afternoon. We need to get back for the interview.’
Alice-Miranda glanced up at the clock on the wall. ‘We’ve got an hour or so. It won’t take me long to check Bony’s foot and then you can give me something to do.’
Millie grinned. ‘There’s a big pile of manure that needs to be moved.’
Alice-Miranda giggled. ‘Well, Daddy always says that shovelling dung is something everyone should do once in a while.’
‘Just maybe not every day.’ Dervla rolled her eyes, having spent the afternoon mucking out the stalls herself.
‘How are you enjoying the place, apart from the manure?’ Alice-Miranda asked.
Dervla had previously worked for Evelyn Pepper for eighteen months and had found it increasingly difficult to juggle her studies with the demands of her position. The property, Chesterfield Downs, was owned by Queen Georgiana and housed her prized racehorses. Alice-Miranda and Millie often rode over there to visit Bony’s boyfriend, a retired champion called Rockstar – one of Her Majesty’s most successful competitors. The pair adored each other, which was odd, as Bony didn’t adore anyone very much.
The young woman stopped to retie her ponytail. ‘Actually, it’s a doddle here compared to the racing stables. I wish I’d snared this job years ago, when I first started university. There’s a lot less poop here than over there, that’s for sure.’
Alice-Miranda had been fascinated to learn that Dervla was soon to graduate with a double degree in forensic science and criminology. She’d mentioned that she was keen to work for the intelligence service.
‘I heard about what you girls did yesterday in the village. Everyone’s talking about it,’ Dervla said.
‘Anyone would have done the same, given the circumstances,’ Alice-Miranda said. She walked into Bony’s stall and clipped a lead rope onto his halter, then fastened it to a round hook so she could examine his foot. She ran her hand down the pony’s front left leg and he lifted it up for her. Alice-Miranda then took the hoof pick off the ledge inside the stall and gently prodded the soft triangular section of his hoof, called the frog. For the first time since he was injured, Bony didn’t flinch. Instead he raised his tail in the air and trumpeted so loudly it sounded as if Charlie had started up the tractor outside.
‘You are a disgrace, Bonaparte Napoleon Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones.’ Alice-Miranda fanned her hand in front of her face. ‘What a stinker!’
An equally loud noise sounded from the stall next door.
‘Was that you, Buttercup?’ Alice-Miranda said.
‘I don’t think so,’ Dervla laughed. ‘All the other ponies are out in the paddock.’
‘Was that you, Millie?’ Alice-Miranda giggled.
‘Maybe … Okay, fine, it was me,’ Millie confessed. Peals of laughter rang out from Dervla and Alice-Miranda. ‘It’s because of those awful eggs this morning,’ Millie added sheepishly. ‘It’s been like the roaring forties today. I accidentally let one rip in Maths and Mrs Clinch thought she’d torn her trousers. You should have seen the woman – she was prancing about, trying not to let anyone get a look at the back of her pants until she could find a hand mirror to investigate. It was lucky I didn’t wet my pants laughing too, then of course Sloane dobbed me in.’
‘Poor Mrs Clinch,’ Alice-Miranda chortled. She picked up a brush and gave Bony’s neck a rub-down.
Dervla opened the stall door and collected his feed bin. ‘Have you heard any news about the Abbouds?’
Alice-Miranda frowned. ‘Mr Abboud is still in intensive care. Mrs Abboud and the children have been discharged. Sadly, I’ve heard on good authority from Mrs Parker that they have nowhere to go. It’s the most desperate situation.’
Millie’s head popped around the stall door. ‘What about the flat here, above the stables?’
It was a good idea, but Dervla had just moved in, and Alice-Miranda doubted that a family of five children and their mother – including two infant babies – would cope very well in the dusty, draughty building, not to mention the smells from downstairs.
‘That’s ridiculous – there has to be somewhere that poor family to go,’ Millie said. ‘I mean, how many people live here at school?’
Alice-Miranda’s eyebrows jumped up. ‘Oh, Millie, you’re a genius!’ She quickly untied Bony and scampered out of the stall. ‘Sorry for bailing on the manure, but I need to see Miss Grimm urgently. I’ll be back at the boarding house in time for the interview and I promise I’ll help on the weekend.’
‘What did I say?’ Millie called after her.
‘I’ll tell you later, if it works out,’ Alice-Miranda replied with a hearty wave. She couldn’t believe no one had thought of it earlier. It was perfect. Now she just had to convince Miss Grimm, although it crossed her mind that perhaps it was Miss Reedy she should have been asking.