Jade was woken by Nellie’s yell. Careful not to roll right off the top bunk, she turned in her sleeping bag and saw a small, fat pony with tinsel around its neck, nuzzling at Nellie’s hair.

‘Andy!’ Nellie yelled again.

Helpless with giggling, Andy, who had been hiding outside the sleep-out door, came in and clipped a lead rope onto Dumpling’s halter. ‘Don’t be angry, Nellie,’ Andy said sweetly. ‘It’s tradition.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ Nellie said, calmer now that her hair was safe from Dumpling’s greedy lips. ‘Dumpling comes into the kitchen for Christmas lunch, not the sleep-out at the crack of dawn to chew on my hair!’

‘This new tradition is funnier, though, isn’t it, Jade?’ Andy said, beginning to giggle again.

Unable to hide her amusement, Jade nodded.

‘I am outnumbered by immature little girls,’ Nellie said. ‘What a start to Christmas Day, eh?’

Dumpling, practically as tame as a dog, was happy to loiter in the back yard, trailing her lead rope and nosing at the tussocky grass, while the girls got dressed and ready for the usual morning feeds.

Although the horses didn’t know it was a special day, Flora had presents of carrots and peppermints ready for her favourites. When all the buckets had been distributed, Sam the stallion, Poppet and Precious, and Piper, Pip and Taniwha were each given a treat.

‘Other people will be disappointed, but I think it’s a relief,’ Flora said, surveying the overcast sky. The air was heavy and warm, ready to rain. ‘Joyeux Noël, girls. That’s what the French backpackers wrote in their card. Much nicer than “Merry Christmas”, don’t you think?’

‘Look at that!’ Nellie interrupted Flora’s musings. ‘What a show-off.’ She was standing, arms crossed, proudly watching Sam. With his flaxen tail fanned out behind him, the stallion was trotting along the fence line, neck arched, nostrils flaring at the humid air.

‘He looks like he’s moving in slow motion,’ Jade breathed.

‘Easily the most handsome horse I’ve ever owned,’ Flora said with a little smile. ‘Sorry, Basil.’ She was rescuing a feed bucket that the thin Appaloosa had started kicking like a soccer ball. ‘But you know you’re not a looker, don’t you?’

With the horses fed and fussed over, it was time for the humans’ Christmas breakfast. While the girls had been busy preparing the animals’ food, Flora had set the table and whipped up a batch of rolls. It was a simple but delicious feast of steaming hot, aromatic bread, on which the butter melted deliciously. Jade and Andy chose home-made strawberry jam on their rolls, while Nellie and Casey went for thin slices of Swiss cheese. Flora, ignoring the others’ disgust at the weird combination, piled cheese on top of jam. As they ate, the relaxing sound of fat raindrops thudding on corrugated iron began. Nellie and Flora looked at each other, silently questioning whether it was worth running out to cover the horses.

‘It’s still very warm,’ Flora decided out loud, helping herself to another roll. ‘More coffee, Casey? Nell? Would you like something, Sir William?’ Casey’s cat, somehow understanding the day’s festivity, had followed his master all the way past the horses right into Flora’s kitchen. His presence might have had something to do with the fragrance of baking ham that was wafting from her oven. Fond of all animals, Flora offered the shameless tabby a trimmed-off scrap of ham fat. Sniffing it for a moment, Sir William Buller snatched the offering from Flora’s fingers and ran out the door, clearly concerned that his treat was under threat.

‘Do you believe in the twenty-minute rule, Nellie?’ Andy asked. She had finished her breakfast and Jade could tell her friend was eyeing the ocean.

‘The what?’

‘The rule about waiting twenty minutes after eating before going for a swim.’

‘I don’t think it matters if you’re just wallowing in the sea. It’s only if you’re planning on swimming energetically, in which case you’d get stomach cramps or something. I don’t know.’

‘By the time you two have helped me bag up the shortbread, you’ll have digested your breakfast and be able to swim,’ Flora suggested.

The plan was to give bags of home-made shortbread to Mata and Ngaire, Jade’s dad and granddad, and to Andy’s mum and sister. Working in a production line, Jade filled the cellophane bags as decoratively as she could, then passed them to Andy, who tied them up with red and green ribbon.

When the six bags were finished and hung on the Christmas tree (a lopsided macrocarpa branch ‘borrowed’ from the neighbouring property’s tree), the girls got into their togs. Nellie wasn’t coming — her idea of a Christmas holiday was holding a plastic cup of bubbly wine in one hand and combing Sam’s flaxen mane with the other. She gave the stallion so much attention that he smelt more of leave-in conditioner than horse.

‘Why don’t you have a ride?’ Andy asked, as she and Jade headed off to the beach, towels wrapped around them, raindrops splashing on their bare shoulders.

‘Nah, I’m too tipsy to give him the respect he deserves,’ Nellie said, taking another sip from her cup. ‘I just like talking to him. But why don’t you two swim the ponies? Pikelet and Dumpling love a dip.’

Andy looked at Jade, excited. ‘All we need is halters. They’re so small and quiet. What do you reckon, Jade?’

‘Okay.’ Jade had never ridden in togs before, but little Dumpling seemed so approachable.

The girls didn’t even need a mounting block to get on the backs of the sturdy little ponies. Andy vaulted elegantly over Pikelet’s tail. Jade followed her lead, apologizing to Dumpling for her clumsiness. The quiet riding school pony barely turned a hair.

Riding down the path past Casey’s container, they saw Sir William Buller stalking something, probably a mouse, in the youngsters’ paddock. Jade noticed that her jandalled feet could almost meet under Dumpling’s wide girth.

The beach was dotted with families of swimmers despite the rain. As they reached the sand, the ponies’ ears pricked. Accustomed to the salt water, they were eager rather than nervous to enter the waves.

‘Just hold the mane and lead rope,’ Andy said, laughing as Pikelet plunged into the sea up to his chest. Dumpling followed, just as confident. Soon the water was up to Dumpling’s withers and Jade’s hips. The pony’s head was stretched out, nose up away from the water. Jade wanted to slide off Dumpling’s back and swim next to her, but was nervous of the pony’s hooves under water; she knew what it was like to be trodden on and didn’t fancy spending Christmas with an injured foot. Instead, Jade held on to the pony’s mane and tried not to interfere with her swimming. Dumpling followed Pikelet, who was ploughing through the water back towards the beach now.

‘It’s Mum and Rhian!’ Andy called out suddenly, pointing up to the dirt road that wound down the side of Bare Mountain, where a small blue car was sending up a cloud of dust. ‘Let’s go back. I’m starting to get cold anyway,’ she added, clicking her tongue and gently kicking at Pikelet’s wet sides. ‘Trot on, Mr Pikelet.’

Trotting bareback, especially on a slippery, wet back, was a challenge. Jade found herself sliding from side to side as the ponies trotted back past the youngsters’ paddock. As they approached the house, Jade saw not only Andy’s mum’s blue car parked in the driveway, but also her granddad’s old white Falcon. Andy’s and Jade’s families were already introducing themselves to each other.

‘Did your ponies shrink in the sea?’ Granddad asked, smirking.

Jade giggled. ‘My legs can nearly reach right around Dumpling’s middle.’ She slid off the pony’s back and patted her wet neck.

‘Merry Christmas, love,’ Jade’s dad said. ‘I’d give you a hug, but you’re soaking.’

‘Aren’t you two cold?’ Andy’s mum asked. Rhian, Andy’s sixteen-year-old sister, was standing behind her mother and gazing wistfully at the sea. As Andy had said, Rhian seemed entirely uninterested in horses.

The girls agreed that they were actually a bit cold now. Once the ponies had been returned to their paddock and the girls had changed, they joined everyone in the kitchen, where Flora’s Christmas CD was playing yet again. Nellie, who had put on a black dress — a contrast to her usual grubby jeans and T-shirts — was sitting in the corner with Sir William curled up in her lap, laughing with Casey and Rhian. Mata and Ngaire, whose preferred forms of transport were grazing in the paddock with the geldings, were passing bottles of beer to Granddad and Jade’s dad. Flora, as usual, was wearing an apron and peering into the oven. Her sister, Andy’s mum, was hovering nearby, wanting to help but unsure of what needed doing.

‘If you really want to help, you can make sure everyone has a drink and a place set for them at the table,’ Flora said irritably. Although she loved cooking, she didn’t much enjoy sharing her kitchen.

‘Everyone’s fine, Flo. Are you sure I can’t make a salad or put the potatoes on?’

‘Everything is under control!’ Flora snapped. ‘Put a paper hat on and sit down, for goodness sake. Pull a cracker with your daughter. Pass around the peanuts. Just leave the cooking to me.’

Andy’s mum sighed and retreated from the kitchen. ‘It’s the same every year,’ she said to Jade and Andy. ‘All I want to do is help. She’s been letting you two help around the riding school, I hope.’

The girls nodded. Both of them had a mouthful of chips.

‘How’s it been here? You like it, Jade?’ Andy’s mum had a nice way of talking to everyone in the same way. It made Jade feel grown up.

‘It’s been amazing. Perfect, except for the whole eviction thing. But we’ve been doing our best to stop it.’ Jade began talking about the pony rides and the petition before realizing that this was all news to Andy’s mum.

‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Andy?’ she demanded. ‘This is terrible news. Dreadful.’ Watching Andy’s mum frowning and shaking her head, Jade felt guilty.

‘I thought Flora would have said something,’ Andy said in a small voice.

‘Flora! What’s this about the council evicting you? What’s going on?’ Andy’s mum suddenly sounded more like Flora’s older sister, despite actually being younger.

‘We’ll discuss this over lunch and not before,’ Flora replied tartly. ‘Right now, I’m too busy to explain.’

This was, in Andy’s mum’s opinion, an incentive to encourage everyone to sit at the dining table.

Nellie attempted to put her paper hat on Sir William, but it was far too large and ended up hanging around the tom cat’s neck in an undignified fashion.

‘Leave Sir William Buller alone,’ Casey warned. ‘Or he might nip you. He does that, you know.’

‘If Sir William nips, he’ll get no ham from me,’ Nellie said, addressing the cat. At that moment Flora carried the heavy platter of ham to the table for Casey to carve. Jade could see her granddad watching Casey’s carving technique critically.

After about six trips back and forth from kitchen to table, Flora finally sat down, satisfied with her work. Along with the ham was a bowl of new potatoes from Casey’s garden, three kinds of salad, more fresh bread rolls and a wide array of condiments, many homemade.

‘Merry Christmas, everyone,’ Flora said, calm at last, having finished the most laborious part of the day. She held out a cracker to her sister, as a peace offering. They both tugged, there was a bang and that lovely smell of fireworks, and a little plastic toy wrapped in paper fell onto the table.

‘Is it a joke or a riddle?’ Nellie asked, as Flora unfolded the paper.

‘A joke. A joke just for you, actually, Nell,’ Flora said, grinning. ‘“What did Santa say to the smoker?”’

‘It’s been nearly a whole month since my last cigarette!’ Nellie protested.

‘All right, fair enough. But what did Santa say?’ Flora asked again.

‘I don’t know. What did Santa say to the smoker?’ Nellie asked.

‘“Please don’t smoke, it’s bad for my elf!”’

Everyone groaned as Flora cackled.

‘That’s what Christmas is about, though,’ Andy’s mum said. ‘Bad puns and good food. Let’s all thank our wonderful chef: Flora.’

When the food was dished out, a satisfied almost-silence fell over the table; there was no talk, just eating. The quiet was broken eventually by Andy’s mum.

‘So, what’s happening with Samudra?’

Flora took a sip of wine. ‘The council wants to evict me and subdivide the horse paddocks.’

‘Can they do that?’

‘It seems so,’ Flora said. ‘But we’re fighting, aren’t we, girls?’ The girls nodded uncertainly.

‘It might not be as simple as that,’ Jade’s dad said, surprising everyone.

‘I know a petition doesn’t mean much, but what else can we do?’ Flora asked. She seemed weary and no longer interested in her food.

‘That’s not what I meant,’ Jade’s dad said quickly. ‘The petition’s a great idea. What I meant was that it might not be as simple as you think for the council to evict you. Since Jade told me what was happening, I’ve done a bit of research. It’s the sort of story that’d be perfect for the Flaxton Times.’

‘What kind of research?’ Casey was listening attentively now, too.

‘The property developer, Kim Bandt — her name rang bells with me. I’ve followed it up, and she has an odd connection to the council. It doesn’t seem legit to me. I don’t want to get your hopes up yet, but it could be a useful loophole.’

Flora’s eyes had lit up. ‘I don’t really know what you mean, but if you think there’s a chance that they can’t kick us off the property, that’s great. I’ll drink to that.’ Flora raised her glass. But before everyone said ‘Cheers!’, Jade’s dad cut in.

‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s just a possibility at this stage. Sorry I can’t be more specific yet. But I promise to keep working on it. I wonder, would you mind if I stayed down here for a few days, to follow up on the story?’

Flora looked worried. ‘I’d love to have you stay, but the house is full.’

‘You can stay with us,’ Mata offered. ‘If it helps you stop this Bandt lady from ruining poor Flora’s home and business, stay as long as you like.’

Over pavlova, Granddad decided that he would drive home later that afternoon, leaving Jade’s dad to spend a few nights ‘researching’ at Ocean Bay. Although there was room at Mata and Ngaire’s for Granddad, little Holly the terrier needed to be taken home and fed. She was currently banished to the backyard, where she couldn’t bother Sir William. The weather had cleared now, and through the window by the dining table a sliver of sea was glistening invitingly.

‘Shall we leave the clearing up for later and go out to the garden to open presents?’ Flora suggested.

‘Shouldn’t we sit around the tree?’ Andy asked.

‘We could take the tree outside — it’s only a branch after all. Or we could decorate the lemon tree.’ Nellie was being facetious, but Andy thought that was a fine idea. While her mum began rinsing and stacking the dishes next to the sink — she couldn’t stand to see dirty dishes sitting on a table — Andy started moving decorations from the macrocarpa branch to the lemon tree.

‘Tea or coffee, anyone?’ Flora asked. ‘Or another bubbly?’

‘Bubbly!’ Nellie promptly replied. She was in better humour than usual due to the quantity of bubbly wine she had already consumed.

‘Why don’t you go outside and sit down? I’ll make the drinks,’ Ngaire insisted. ‘You’ve done everything so far, Flora — it was such a beautiful spread.’

‘Thanks,’ Flora said, surprising Ngaire by agreeing. ‘A splash of milk in my coffee, please. And one sugar.’

When most of the dishes were done, the drinks prepared and the lemon tree decorated, everyone congregated in the backyard. Although it was not quite everyone: Sir William, eyeing Holly and appearing far from impressed, made his way to the youngsters’ paddock to ruin more fieldmice families.

Andy, who had nominated herself as present-distributor, handed out the shortbread first. Everyone wanted something to dunk in their tea or coffee, despite being overly full from lunch.

When the biscuits were gone, Andy started reading cards aloud.

‘“For Flora, from M and N”.’

‘Just hand them all out. If we open them one at a time, it’ll take forever,’ Rhian complained.

Jade was sitting between her dad and granddad, with Holly in her lap ogling the shortbread. There was a pleasant combination of familiarity and newness, taking part in someone else’s Christmas with her own family present.

When Flora had thanked Mata and Ngaire for a stripy apron with large pockets (‘Good for the kitchen, or when you’re grooming the horses’), Andy opened a gift of her own from her mother. Surprisingly unhorsey, it was a set of watercolour pencils and cartridge paper.

‘Why don’t you give Aunty Flora your present now?’ Andy’s mum suggested, clearly proud of her daughter’s drawing.

‘Flora’s already had one,’ Andy protested. ‘And, anyway, it’s from Jade and Nellie, too.’

‘But you made it!’

‘The suspense is killing me,’ Flora joked. ‘Come on, where is it?’

At the bottom of the pile, Andy found an A4 envelope.

‘It’s from all of us — so is this.’ Andy passed Flora the bottle of wine Jade’s dad had brought.

Flora was quiet as she examined the picture.

‘Aren’t you clever?’ she said, finally looking up from the page. ‘Look, Mata, Ngaire: you have to guess who’s who.’

‘Isn’t that super?’ Ngaire said. ‘Though I’m a bit sad that Issa and Basho aren’t there, too. I guess twenty horses is a lot to fit on one page.’

Of all the presents — the baking, books, apron, pencil set and wine — Andy’s drawing was the most admired.

‘I’ll have to frame it and hang it next to the trophies,’ Flora said, giving her niece a quick peck on the cheek.

Most families would spend Christmas afternoon digesting their lunch and relaxing, but not so at Samudra. Mata and Ngaire took Jade’s dad and granddad and Holly for a walk along the beach towards their bach, while Rhian and Andy’s mum went for a swim. This left Jade, Nellie, Andy and Flora time to pack the truck for the Boxing Day Race. Basil, Piper, Precious and Poppet would be competing.

Jade felt rather guilty, loading Basil’s gear into the truck while Tani stood at the gate, ears pricked hopefully. He would not be happy in the early morning when the truck left without him. As if reading Jade’s mind, Flora said, ‘You’re doing me a big favour, Jade. Bas hasn’t been out for a proper ride in yonks. It will do him the world of good.’

‘Is the race far away?’ Jade asked.

‘Not far, but we’ve a lot of gear to take and I don’t want to tire the horses out by walking them further than necessary. You know it’s important to keep the horse’s heart rate regular?’

Jade nodded vaguely.

Flora smiled, seeing Jade’s confusion. ‘Don’t worry, just follow Andy — she’s an old hand at the short course now. Also, it’s a very relaxed day. Even though it’s called a Competitive Trail Ride, this one is more recreational than competitive. It is also quite short, so nothing to stress over.’

‘That’s good.’ Jade was relieved. Endurance was still a mystery discipline to her, really, and she was well aware of the chance of failure when trying something new.

‘Don’t be silly,’ Becca had said earlier when Jade had said she was nervous about riding in the endurance event. Jade had telephoned her friend to wish her a Merry Christmas and ask her how the show season had been going. But instead, Jade had found herself talking mainly about herself and Samudra.

‘It is a bit scary, though, riding Flora’s horse in an event I’ve never tried before,’ Jade said. ‘But enough about me: how are you? And Happy Christmas!’

‘Thanks. You, too.’ Soon Jade felt less guilty about her selfish conversation: Becca spent the next fifteen minutes, non-stop, giving a thorough account of her winning jump-off at the Flaxton Show. It was only when Flora started frowning and tapping her watch that Jade had been able to say goodbye.

‘Mata and Ngaire have very kindly lent me their spare bedroom for the next few nights while I sniff around this nasty Kim Bandt business,’ Jade’s dad told her. He had come back to Samudra to see off Granddad before dinner.

‘Will you be working too hard to come along with us to the race tomorrow?’ Jade asked.

Her dad looked uncomfortable. ‘Probably, yeah. Sorry, sweet.’

‘It’s not much of a spectator sport anyway,’ said Flora, who had been eavesdropping.

‘I’m amazed that you’re managing to just carry on as usual, going to shows — races, sorry — and so on, while Samudra’s at risk of being closed down,’ Jade’s dad said.

‘What else can we do?’ Flora replied simply. She was tossing vinaigrette through lettuce leaves from the garden. ‘Life must go on.’