Little Audrey was back for pony rides every morning until Christmas Eve. Each day she would bring another friend from a neighbouring bach. Jade and Andy, who had been put in charge of the pony rides, had painted a placard saying A Pony Ride if You Sign the Petition. Audrey, a precocious five-year-old, took this deal seriously, and asked if she could ride Dumpling all morning if she found ten adults to sign their name in favour of Samudra.

Jade, who alternated between finding Audrey charming and irritating, suggested that poor old Dumpling would get tired if he had to walk up and down the beach all day. ‘I don’t mind a different pony,’ fickle Audrey replied.

The rotation of ‘petition ponies’ was putting a strain on the riding school’s regular business, so Pip’s addition to Flora’s herd had proved very useful. She was happy to work as a ‘petition pony’ for an hour in the morning and an hour in the afternoon, provided that a good portion of the rides she gave involved a walk in the sea. The young riders enjoyed hearing their ponies’ hooves splashing through the shallows, and in the summer heat Jade didn’t mind getting a bit wet herself.

Some of the riders weren’t as enchanted with the ponies as young Audrey was, though. In fact, there was one case of a young mother who had always wanted to ride, eagerly signing the petition while her four-year-old son’s bottom lip began trembling. At the suggestion of being hoisted into Pip’s rather high but inviting saddle, the child started howling.

‘What if I rode with you, Harry?’ the young mother coaxed. ‘I’d hold you tight; nothing would go wrong.’ The idea of his mother on a horse seemed even more upsetting to the tow-haired boy. A sensible grandmother, waiting in line with her granddaughter, offered to look after wee Harry while his mother had a ride herself.

‘It’s just for children, though, isn’t it?’ the mother asked, suddenly embarrassed.

‘Pip’s big enough for you,’ Jade said, wondering if the mother was much older than Nellie. ‘And the rides are for anyone who signs the petition.’

Not needing to be told twice, the young mother kissed Harry’s red, tearful face and giggled as Andy legged her up into Pip’s saddle.

‘Is Pip your pony?’ she asked, grinning as Jade led her towards the sea.

‘She used to be, until recently. Flora, the lady who runs Samudra Riding School, has offered to give her a good home.’ Enjoying the mother’s enthusiasm for Pip, Jade rabbitted on about the old pony for some time, before realizing that she had walked quite a long way past the limit she and Andy had decided on.

When they got back to the queue of prospective riders, the young mother thanked Jade and Andy profusely.

‘See, it’s safe, Harry. Mummy is fine on the horsey’s back. You don’t want a little sit in the saddle?’

Harry, who had overcome his bout of sobbing, solemnly shook his head. He was pleased to see his mother back safely, but would have no part in equestrian activities himself.

‘It’s so good, what you’re doing,’ Harry’s mother enthused again, once her feet were back on the sand. ‘How many people have signed so far?’

‘A hundred and twenty-six,’ said Jade at the same time as Andy said ‘A hundred and twenty-eight.’ They stopped and laughed.

‘Quite a lot, anyway,’ Andy said.

When they stopped at four o’clock on Christmas Eve, they had 203 signatures on their petition.

‘That means you each must have walked up and down that stretch of beach at least a hundred times,’ Flora said. ‘Thank you so much!’ She stopped rubbing butter into sugar for the Christmas shortbread, rinsed her hands and gave the girls an uncharacteristic hug. ‘And, Nellie, I haven’t forgotten that you’ve been doing more than your share around the school while we’ve been distracted by this little problem.’

‘Don’t even think about it!’ Nellie dodged out of the way. ‘You know I’m not a huggy person.’

‘Fine; neither am I. But I do want you to know how grateful I am. At least tomorrow we’ll all get a break.’

‘Not from the feeds,’ Nellie sighed. ‘There’s never a day off when you’re looking after animals.’

‘Someone’s full of Christmas spirit,’ Flora said, rolling her eyes. ‘Lighten up, Nell. And go and yell to Casey that dinner will be ready in half an hour.’

When Casey came to the kitchen, he seemed agitated. Without saying hello to anyone, he sat at the table and started cutting up the newspaper with the scissors Flora had been using for the baking paper.

‘Is everything all right?’ Flora asked. ‘Don’t tell me you’re in a bad mood, too. It’s Christmas!’

‘That’s right! What kind of people harass someone during the festive season? It’s the birth of Jesus tomorrow and they want me to just pack up and leave.’

‘What? Who?’ Flora stopped stirring the bowl of mixture.

‘The council!’ Casey snapped. ‘Gone and taped a warning to my container. They want me gone by the 28th.’

‘They can’t do that!’ Nellie took the opportunity to focus her bad mood on a real cause. ‘That’s no warning at all.’

Flora looked serious. Jade and Andy, not wanting to be snapped at, sat quietly, watching. Jade was suddenly starving, and could hear her own stomach rumbling during the awkward pauses. But it wasn’t the time to ask if the shortbread would be ready soon.

‘They shouldn’t — it’s a nasty thing to do — but they can, can’t they, Case?’

‘Why?’ Nellie was fuming.

‘The container isn’t actually on my land. It sits on a sort of no-man’s-land between the beach and the paddocks, which technically would belong to the council. They’ve been “overlooking” it for years because no one has complained and Casey hasn’t been doing any harm.’

‘Until now. Now I’m in that madam’s way and she’s not having any of it.’ Casey wasn’t just angry, he seemed defeated.

‘Well, neither are we,’ Nellie said. ‘We’ll fight back. What’s the urgency of the 28th, anyway?’

‘Yes, I wondered about that, too,’ Flora said, taking off her glasses and cleaning them on her apron. ‘It’s all a bit of a worry, really.’

Flora tried to call the council to ask what was planned for 28 December, but of course nobody answered, it being early evening on Christmas Eve.

‘I hate this uncertainty,’ she said, dishing up a simple dinner of Caesar salad. ‘Why can’t I just enjoy my horses, my business and my Christmas cooking? I have to feed,’ she paused, counting on her fingers, ‘eleven people tomorrow.’

‘And twenty-three horses,’ Nellie said, her mouth full of lettuce and bacon.

‘That’s right. Kim Bandt’s timing is barbaric. Why couldn’t she have waited until the New Year, at least?’

‘Because then you wouldn’t be so off-guard — so busy with the riding school high season, endurance and the holidays,’ Nellie said bitterly.

Refusing to let the impending eviction ruin Christmas, Flora put on her favourite Christmas album, poured the adults a glass of port, and gave everyone a culinary job. While Casey scrubbed potatoes and Nellie separated eggs for the pavlova, Jade and Andy hulled strawberries.

At quarter to eight, the phone rang. It was Jade’s dad, confirming directions to the beach.

‘So how has it been? Is Aunt Flora working you hard?’

Jade raved about the idyllic week she had spent working there so far. ‘But, Dad,’ she said, having told him that Pip had found the best possible retirement home, ‘Samudra is getting closed down. Flora and her horses have been evicted from the land.’

Explaining as much as she could remember about the letters, the warnings, Kim Bandt and the petitions, Jade was surprised at her dad’s genuine interest.

‘Poor Flora must be beside herself. Are you sure she doesn’t mind you staying? Doesn’t mind us visiting for Christmas?’

‘No, we’ve been helping!’ Jade replied indignantly. ‘But, Dad, I haven’t got her a present. I didn’t think of it before I left Flaxton. And there’s Andy and Nellie, too.’

‘They probably won’t have presents for you either. I wouldn’t worry too much,’ her dad said. ‘But I’ve been to the supermarket and stocked up on festive things. Perhaps a little hamper of sorts would do for Flora?’

‘There’s lots of food here,’ Jade said, peeking into the industrious kitchen, ‘But Flora seems to like wine. Maybe if there’s a bottle of wine?’

‘Of course there’s a bottle of wine. I’ll even tie a ribbon around it if you like.’

‘Thanks, Dad!’

‘No problem. And I’ll look into this Kim Bandt woman. It all sounds a bit fishy to me.’

‘If you can somehow stop her pushing Samudra off the land, that would be the best present of all for Flora.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

Back in the kitchen, Casey — who now had the port bottle sitting in front of him and his pile of potatoes — was telling stories.

‘I didn’t know you had brothers,’ Flora said. ‘What are they doing these days?’

‘One’s a doctor, one’s a teacher.’ It was difficult to know whether Casey was telling the truth. ‘We had this game when we were kids. Not a game, really — more of a tradition, a custom. On Christmas Eve we’d pull each other’s socks off before bed. Don’t know how it started — something to do with hanging our stockings and putting out a beer and peppermints for Father Christmas.’

Andy looked at Jade. It sounded like Casey was starting a long story.

‘Pull each other’s socks off?’ Flora asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘That’s right, by the toes. I used to hate it if he pulled the sock off properly, from the elasticized top, without stretching it. I was very small.’

‘I did that, too! With my cousin,’ Nellie piped up, surprising everyone.

‘Did you?’ Casey sounded suspicious, as if it were his childhood experience and no one else’s.

‘Yep, I know exactly what you mean. Then we’d tickle each other’s feet.’

‘You did it at Christmas?’

‘No, all year round. Whenever we slept over at each other’s house. So I guess often it was at Christmas time.’

‘Any Christmas traditions in your family, Jade?’ Flora said kindly, unaware of how difficult this topic was for Jade.

‘Um, we cooked a ham last year,’ Jade said. ‘But …’ Then she decided she wanted to tell everyone; she trusted them. ‘But since Mum died it hasn’t been very traditional.’

Nellie looked up from the egg whites she was beating. Flora brought a hand up to her mouth. ‘I’m sorry, Jade. It must be very hard for you at this time of year.’

There was that familiar feeling of her throat closing and opening, and her face flushing. Jade put a strawberry in her mouth and concentrated on its sweet juiciness. ‘Yeah. But I like it here. Thank you for having me.’

Understanding that a hug would be too much, Flora simply squeezed Jade’s shoulder. Her eyes were suddenly very shiny, too.

‘When did your mum die, Jade?’ Casey asked.

‘Casey!’ Nellie chided.

‘Nearly two years ago.’ Jade didn’t mind talking about it to Casey. She wasn’t used to anyone being so direct. It made talking easier, somehow. Before Jade knew it, she had begun rambling on about the accident, her dad’s time in prison, staying with Granddad, finding Pip. The way that Casey seemed interested in the story, not in Jade’s feelings, took the pressure off. Without even any tears, Jade found herself able to talk about her mum — to recount memories she hadn’t even let herself think about since before she moved to Flaxton.

Everyone listened attentively. Casey chortled when Jade told them about how she had stolen Pip from the pound paddock.

‘I knew you had some stories in you,’ Casey said, when Jade finally felt ready to stop. ‘That’s the consolation about troubles — they make good stories. One day we’ll all laugh about this eviction business, eh?’

Flora looked grim. ‘I hope you’re right, Case; I hope you’re right.’

When the fridge was full of bowls and plates covered in clingfilm, holding marinating meat, prepared vegetables and sweet things, it was time for bed.

‘Sweet dreams, my little helpers,’ Flora said as the girls made their way to the sleep-out. ‘An early start as usual tomorrow, but a relaxing day, I hope.’

‘Good night, Aunt Flora,’ Andy called, teasingly. But Flora seemed so tired she didn’t even react to being called the name she detested.

‘Have you two got her a present?’ Nellie asked through her toothbrush, as they prepared for bed.

‘Dad’s bringing a bottle of wine,’ Jade said. ‘I wish I ’d thought of it earlier.’

‘Me, too,’ Nellie sighed. ‘I just don’t get into town often enough. What about you, Andy?’

‘I’ve made something, but it’s a bit lame,’ Andy said, pulling a book out of her suitcase. Inside the book was a piece of paper, kept carefully flat and clean. On the paper, Andy had drawn a Samudra ‘family portrait’, with each of the horses.

‘Can you guess who’s who?’ Andy asked. ‘I tried to capture their personalities.’

Nellie grinned. ‘That has to be fat little Dumpling, with his head in the feed bin.’

‘Yep!’

‘And that’s obviously beautiful Sam,’ Jade said, pointing at a flaxen-maned chestnut prancing in the centre of the page. Most of the other horses and humans were staring adoringly at him.

‘That’s right.’

‘Is this supposed to be me?’ Nellie asked, pointing at a glamorous figure riding Precious.

‘Yeah. Sorry. I’m better at drawing horses than people.’

‘No, it’s great! Very flattering.’

‘Maybe we could say this and the wine is from all of us?’ Andy suggested.

‘We couldn’t do that — it’s your drawing!’ Nellie said.

Repeating what she had said to her dad, Jade told them that she thought the best gift for Flora would be somehow foiling Kim Bandt’s plans.

‘Easier said than done, I reckon,’ Nellie said. ‘But let’s do everything in our power to save Samudra. Agreed?’

‘Agreed!’ Andy and Jade chorused as the light was turned out.