CHAPTER 19

She knows it’s a bad day the moment she opens her eyes. The feeling is churning around inside her head and there is no way that she can go to school, not today. Reaching for her phone, Tally texts one word to Mum.

Stables.

She sinks back on to her pillow and waits for the bad feeling to disappear, but nothing happens. She thought she’d feel relief about not going in, but if anything she feels even more anxious now that she’s used the code word. She’s going to miss so much stuff if she isn’t in school today. And what if she wakes up tomorrow and she feels even worse? Mum and Dad have made it very clear that the school have only agreed to one day off a week and that this is just a temporary solution.

The worry lasts through getting dressed and eating breakfast, and Tally starts to wonder if, maybe, just maybe, she’d be better off just going to school. But when she thinks about putting on her uniform and walking into the classroom, her head feels dizzy and her mouth goes dry and she knows that there’s no way she can do it.

The drive to the stables simultaneously takes for ever and not long enough, and by the time they pull in through the farm gates any excitement that Tally might have felt is long gone. This is it. Her one shot at having something good. Her chance to do the thing she loves most in the world.

She is absolutely going to get it wrong and then riding will be spoiled for her, just like everything else.

Ginny is waiting for them when Mum stops the car. Mum gestures to Tally to remove her headphones and then gives her a big smile.

“Here we are, then!” she says. “You’re going to have such a good day!”

Tally doesn’t move. Mum shoots her a quick look and then gets out to greet Ginny. Tally can see Mum gesturing towards the car and she lowers her gaze. She’s changed her mind. Coming here was a terrible idea. She’s only going to mess it up, just like she messes up everything. And then there will be nothing good left.

“Come on!” Mum has opened her door. “Ginny has got lots of wonderful things planned for you today.”

“I want to go home,” Tally mutters. “Just get back in the car.”

Mum sighs loudly, making Tally’s head snap up in panic.

“You chose to come here,” Mum tells her, voice fake-bright. “Remember? It was school or the stables. Come on, Tally – this is supposed to be something different. Out you get, you’ll be fine once you get started!”

There is the sound of someone clearing their throat and Ginny appears next to Mum.

“One of my horses is called Nigel,” she says, and it isn’t clear whether she’s speaking to Mum, Tally or herself. “And sometimes he gets spooked by something and just freezes where he is. Some people would tell him off or use the whip to make him keep walking, but I don’t allow that kind of behaviour here. I know that the best way to help Nigel face his fears is to dismount and gently lead him past whatever it is that is scaring him, rather than forcing him to confront it by himself.”

She clears her throat again and looks directly at Mum. “Why don’t you go and make yourself a cup of tea? There’s a kettle in the tack room and you should be able to find some milk somewhere.”

“Oh.” Mum looks a bit startled. “Right, then. Yes, of course.” She looks down at Tally. “You know that you can’t just sit in the car all morning, don’t you?”

“There are teabags next to the kettle,” Ginny states bluntly. “Goodbye.”

Mum frowns but she follows Ginny’s instructions and heads off towards the barn. Ginny instantly turns away, leaving Tally’s car door wide open, and strides in the direction of the teaching arena. Tally watches as Ginny climbs over the fence and then jumps down on to the sandy ground. Her feet have barely hit the floor when a horse trots across from the far side, his nose pushing repeatedly against her pocket. Ginny’s laugh floats back on the warm breeze, bringing with it the scent of hay and manure and the dry horse smell that Tally loves so much.

Slowly, she swings her legs out of the car and stands up. She’ll just watch from a distance.

In the arena, Ginny strokes the horse and mutters quietly into his ears.

Tally take a step forward, first one then another. Maybe getting a little closer will be OK.

Ginny rubs the horse’s nose and he gives a snickering sound that makes Tally’s heart pound faster. She walks to the fence and folds her arms across her chest. She’ll stand here to make Mum happy and she won’t have to go to school today. Nothing can go wrong if she doesn’t go near the horse and she won’t spoil anything which is definitely what will happen if she gets too close. Because horses know. They can tell what kind of a person you are and if you’re the wrong kind of person, they won’t want anything to do with you. And Tally knows that if that happened, she would never, ever get over it.

So she stands by the fence and watches while Ginny talks to the horse and rubs him down with her hands, and everything is starting to feel like it might be OK.

But then the horse messes it all up by noticing Tally.

There’s no time to react. He’s over by the fence in seconds and the smell of him fills her nostrils. He sniffs and Tally stiffens, knowing that he’s determining who she is. And then his long face pushes against hers and he whinnies softly and even though it can’t possibly be true, Tally feels for a brief moment like he’s telling her it’s all going to be fine.

“This is Nigel,” says Ginny. “He likes you.”

Tally takes a step back.

“He’s an old boy now,” continues Ginny, ignoring Tally’s slow retreat. “Most of the kids that come here don’t want to ride him because he doesn’t always do as he’s told. But he just needs to be with people who understand that being scared can look a lot like being difficult.”

Tally pauses.

“Do you know what I sometimes do when I’m frightened?” Ginny taps her boot on the ground. “I get really, really grumpy and occasionally I shout at people and tell them to leave me alone, but it doesn’t help. So I’m trying to remind myself that when I’m scared, maybe going deep inside myself doesn’t actually make things any better.”

Tally walks forward again and rests her hands on the fence. “I do that too,” she confesses. “Especially the shouting.”

“Us autistic folk can sometimes find it hard to explain how we’re feeling,” says Ginny, reaching across and taking a riding hat off the fence post. “Especially when we’re scared. But if we can walk slowly and calmly past the fear then the rewards make it worth it.”

Tally swallows hard. It feels strange to have a conversation like this with an adult – one where they actually say stuff that makes sense – but she remembers it being like this when she was here the last time. Ginny is the only autistic adult that Tally has ever met, and she can’t help wondering if school would maybe be a bit easier if there were some autistic teachers who could understand how she feels, without it having to be such a big deal?

“What is Nigel scared of most?” she asks.

Ginny chuckles. “Everything,” she tells Tally. “You name it – he’s scared of it. The wind and the rain and a leaf fluttering down from a tree when he isn’t expecting it. He’s scared of the dark and cars and dogs and other horses, which means that he’s quite lonely because his fear stops him from enjoying the company of the rest of the team.”

“How can he be lonely if he doesn’t want to hang out with them?” asks Tally.

Ginny looks at her thoughtfully. “I didn’t say that he doesn’t want to be with them,” she says. “I said he’s afraid of them. They aren’t the same thing.”

Tally nods and looks at Nigel. Maybe they have more in common than she thought.

“Perhaps you should get him to join in with them a bit more?” she suggests.

Ginny shakes her head. “Nigel isn’t like the other horses – it never really works when I put them together. He isn’t comfortable with them and they don’t treat him particularly well because they can sense that he’s different.”

Nigel takes this as his cue to whinny, and Tally’s heart thuds.

“That’s so sad.” She reaches out her hand and gives him a gentle stroke on the nose. “Poor boy.”

“Not at all,” Ginny informs her. “It’s far better for Nigel to stay on his own and keep his identity than it is for him to be part of the group and lose all sense of who he is. True happiness has to come from being at home in your own body, not from changing your shape so that other people will be happy with who you are. Nigel is Nigel-shaped and that’s OK. He just needs reminding of that now and again.”

Tally’s hands start to flap. She automatically pulls her arms in to her sides to stop them but then sees Ginny staring at her again, her eyes loud with an unspoken question.

If happiness has to come from being at home in her own body, then maybe she should let her body do its own speaking. After all, her stimming is just another way of expressing how she’s feeling and sometimes her stims are somehow louder than the words that come out of her mouth, even if not many people know how to hear them.

Tally relaxes and lets her hands tell Ginny how she feels about what she just said.

Ginny waits for a few moments and then gives her a smile, before handing her the riding hat.

“Put this on,” she says. “And then come into the arena.”

Tally’s arms still. Talking is one thing and stroking Nigel is another, but she isn’t ready to ride him yet, she knows that for sure.

“Tally.” Ginny’s voice is quiet. “Stop thinking and climb over the fence.”

“I can’t,” whispers Tally, putting her feet on the first wooden rung. “I’m going to get it wrong.”

“I won’t let you get it wrong,” promises Ginny, reaching out a hand and guiding Tally’s legs down and on to the ground. “Now, if I remember rightly, you were a natural when you rode Peaches last time. Let’s just pop you on to the saddle and you can sit up there for a bit.”

Before Tally can formulate an argument, Ginny has given her a boost-up and she is astride the old horse, her legs dangling on either side of his flank. She’s just sitting. Even she can’t mess up sitting, surely?

“Now take hold of the reins.” Ginny’s voice is soft, almost like a lullaby and Tally does as she says. “I’m going to hold the lead rope and we’re going to take Nigel here for a little stroll.”

“No!” Tally’s back tenses. “I can’t do it! I want to get off!”

“Of course,” Ginny assures her. “I’m not going to ask you to do anything that you don’t want to, OK? But to get off safely we just need to walk him across to the corner. Do you think you can do that, Tally?”

Tally pauses, her legs jiggling up and down in the stirrups as she lets her brain contemplate the question. Ginny waits quietly and there is no rush, no demand to give any answer except the one that feels right to her. Tally takes a deep breath and nods at Ginny.

“I can try,” she says, because that’s all she can ever do and because she knows that is all Ginny will ever ask of her.

And then they’re walking, and she can feel Nigel’s steady movements beneath her, his body rippling as he plods his way across the sandy ground. Her hands clutch tightly to the reins and she leans forward slightly, scared she’s going to fall off, but then Nigel tosses his head and gives a little sigh and it hits her. The connection between her and the horse replaces everything else.

How could she have forgotten this?

This is when she is happy. This is when she feels good in her own body.

How could she have doubted that this is the one thing she can do right?

“OK,” declares Ginny. “It’s safe for you to get off now. Shall I help you get down?”

Tally looks up and sees that they have reached the corner. “No,” she breathes. “Please. Can we take him for a longer walk?”

Ginny looks up at her. “We can,” she says. “But then we’re going to have some jobs to do. We’re going to need to untack him, and groom him properly. And after that there’s the stable to muck out and the tack to clean.”

“I don’t mind doing all of that,” Tally tells her. “I promise.”

Ginny nods. “Very well, then. We need to be back by eleven o’clock because I have another lesson to teach, but I’ll set you up in the tack room and you can work alongside Saira. She’ll show you what to do.” She glances at her watch. “It’s ten fifteen now, so we have plenty of time.”

Tally smiles. Ten fifteen on a Tuesday means maths. Right now, she could be squished behind a desk in an airless room with horrible fluorescent lighting that hurts her eyes, struggling to understand anything that’s being said. She’d already be crumpled and fake and all out of shape, and by lunchtime she’d have nothing left to give. But instead, out here with Ginny and Nigel and the whole sky above her, she feels real and free.

She’s Tally-shaped for the first time in a long time.

I feel most Tally-shaped when

•Other people aren’t judging me.

•I’m riding a horse, feeling all my problems disintegrate with each stride.

•I’m in a safe spot, like tucked under my covers in bed with Peppa Pig.

•It’s a Saturday morning and I suddenly remember I don’t have school and that heavy feeling in my soul turns into joy.

Five reasons why horses are the best animals ever

1. They are definitely the most elegant, mysterious and beautiful creatures.

2. Their calm energy radiates on to me.

3. When I’m with them, I forget all my worries and feel accepted and not judged.

4. I can ride them, unlike most animals. This is a huge bonus.

5. When I’m on a horse, the way it moves and the way I move with it is really rhythmic and soothing.