My ladybird alarm clock will go off at six-forty-five but I’m not giving it the chance. I’ve been awake since around five, squirming about ever since, and I can’t stand it any longer. I jam my hand down on the button at six-forty, crawl out of bed and fumble in the cupboard for a clean school uniform. Rosie’s already seated at the breakfast table when I arrive there, which is a bit surprising, but I’m desperate so I don’t think too much about it. If they wanted to create suspense, they’ve succeeded, but it will end now. They’ll have to give me this mystery gift they’ve been on about because the day has arrived.
I have this tiny, nasty, niggling doubt that it’s all a trick and I’m not going to get anything, but Rosie has a small, shiny gold parcel on her plate and the tension oozing from her is encouraging. She leaps up and holds out the parcel, and an envelope. The toaster pops in the kitchen and Mum calls, “Oh, is she here?”
“Birthday! Birthday!” Rosie squeaks.
“Hello dear.” Dad doesn’t bother to look round his paper.
“Oh? Oh yes. Oh thank you,” I say, cool, like I’ve forgotten the date.
Inside the envelope is a home-made card illustrated with ribbons and balloons in loud felt tip pen colours. In it, she has simply scrawled, “Happy Birthday Tee” in her excitable handwriting, using a bright pink pen.
I rip at the wrapping paper and pull out a small white box, tipping it as I do so. The lid falls off and a tiny wad of cotton wool drops out onto the checked tablecloth. Hidden in the cotton wool is a pair of dainty gold rose-shaped earrings.
“Oh! Special earrings!” I drop the card and attempt to give my sister a bear hug. She wriggles and tries to get away, but her face is one huge grin, her eyes wicked.
“Let me go! See, now you don’t have to wear those boring studs you’ve had since your ears were done.”
As she frees herself, she waves towards the kitchen and declares, “Wait. Wait and see. The big one’s coming!”
Mum appears with a rack of fresh toast in one hand and an envelope in the other. The envelope is passed to me and no-one says a word. I glance around at my family and they all stare back, Dad finally putting aside the Rhodesia Herald.
This is the big surprise? In an envelope?
Shaken cautiously, it makes no sound. Then, in a flash, I know. Money. I’m considered old enough to receive cash and to choose how to spend it. Not much of a big surprise though. The surprise will actually be theirs because they don’t know what I’ll do with it.
I start to think what I could spend some money on as I open the envelope. Books probably. It’s unlikely to be enough to get a new riding hat. Mine’s getting a bit tight. Maybe Daddy can make up the difference.
There’s a card inside, but I flick it open without looking to see what’s on the front and lay it flat, open on the table. There are no banknotes. Only a square piece of photographic paper, upside down.
I give my parents a cracked smile and still they stare back. I pick up the photo between forefinger and thumb and turn it over.
“That’s Induna,” I tell them, studying the familiar form. He really does have much more muscle now than he did when I first met him.
Rosie flaps her hands in front of my face and lets out a yell.
“Tessie! Come on! Wakey, wakey! You’ve got a horse!”
They’re all applauding, but my brain is struggling. I close my mouth, because it’s open, and then burst into tears.
Crying and laughing at the same time doesn’t leave much room for breathing. I gasp and get the hiccups.
“Well we couldn’t wrap him up and smuggle him into your bedroom,” Dad’s saying, “so we thought a photo was the next best thing. For God’s sake bring her some water before she chokes to death and I’ve spent good money for nothing.”
Mum cocks her head at Rosie. “I’m surprised this one didn’t let the cat out of the bag – or should I say the horse out of the stable. We thought we were going to have to tie her up in the garden shed last night.”
So they’ve all been conspiring together. Mum, Dad, Rosie. Gill, who’s been vague with me to the point of vexation about Induna’s future. Moira and Charles, who must’ve done the deal with Dad. And even Nathan. Nathan, who says nothing to me except hello and howzit. Then out of the blue, a couple of weeks ago, he said, “Good luck with Indie.” He was in his senior school uniform, looking just as scruffy in it as he did in his junior school one. They’ve all been conspiring. All of them.
We have a group hug and I’m not sure who to hug hardest – Mum and Dad because they’ve just given me the one thing in the world I wanted more than anything, or Rosie because I don’t want her to feel upstaged. I love her earrings – really. Then I sit and stare at my empty plate through my tears, trying to decide what to do.
If I leave right now, this instant, I could go to Makuti Park and see Indie before school…
“Come on.” Dad folds the paper and stands up. “You look like you’re sitting on hot bricks. I’ll take you to school today and we’ll stop at the stables on the way. No breakfast for me this morning. And have no doubt about it, you will go to school afterwards.”
I’m struggling to believe this isn’t a dream and that I won’t wake up to my alarm and find none of it’s happened. Since when have my parents and Charles and Moira ever been in contact? I know I talked about Induna a lot. I know they know I’ve wanted a pony forever, but they’re not interested in horses or riding. Neither is Rosie.
Rosie. Ah, yes. Rosie and her new tennis coach. She got all new gear and a year’s course at Julie Foster’s club didn’t she? The parents conspired a bit behind her back too. That evening they were sitting on the patio and I was doing my homework on the lounge floor, I heard them talking about how Uncle Dudley’d said that Julie thought Rosie would make a brilliant tennis player. Natural co-ordination and ability to read an opponent’s mind, she’d said. I’d thought that was pretty funny, Rosie reading people’s minds. Then I caught Dad saying he was prepared to arrange it – I didn’t know what ‘it’ was – as long as Rosie was going to take it seriously. “You know what she’s like. She tries a bit of this then tries a bit of that. What if it’s just a passing phase, like the cricket?”
Next thing, Rosie’s presented with this little folder of information about Julie’s instructor and his courses. Top-seeded. Yup, sporting terms are utterly nonsensical, although the cricket ones do take the cake.
It is true that my sister tries to get involved in everything that’s going but she does do it with genuine interest and only gives up on some activities because it’s physically impossible to fit it all in. I can see why Aunty Pauline took to her.
So Rosie’s staring at my gymkhana rosettes while she listens to Dad’s lecture about taking the tennis thing seriously, then she goes, “Well, I love it, a bit like Tee loves riding. Yeah, I’d like to have tennis lessons. Okay. Thanks.”
She got a tennis racquet for her birthday from Cleo and Skellum.
I’m bursting to see Gill’s face, but when we get to the yard there are only a couple of grooms wandering about.
“Oh no!” I wail. “It’s the Umtali show this weekend. I forgot.”
This is the thing when you’re a champion – you get to miss a day at school to go competing. Well, maybe one day…
I tumble out of the car before it’s stopped, ignoring Dad’s “Hey! Whoa!” and race into the yard. There, I literally run straight into George, who’s leading Induna and Cactus Dan to their paddock.
“Georgie!” I seize him by his elbows and try to spin him around. “Induna’s mine! My dad’s bought him!”
“I know, Miss Tessa.” He’s battling to keep the two lead ropes from tangling and dangling. I throw my arms round Induna’s neck and bury my face in his sweet smelling mane, oblivious then to all else.
“He’s mine, he’s mine, he’s all mine!”
“Do you still want old George to look after him for you?”
“Of course I do Georgie. You’re the best.”
So even George has been in on the conspiracy. When the hell did Dad get to meet with Charles? It doesn’t matter. I want to ride my horse right here and now. All day.
But I have to go to school.
*
This is me – really me – schooling my own horse. I’ve never tried shoulder-in without Gill being present, but I give it a go. Induna takes advantage of my tentative efforts by merely twisting his neck in towards the centre of the school and humping his back as if to say, “See? I can still buck with my head bent to the right. Aren’t I clever? Sorry, what was it you wanted me to do?”
I do actually need Gill but I’m not going to admit that to myself today at all.