It seems like for ever since Tally was last at the stables, but as soon as she steps inside it feels utterly familiar. Layla hasn’t come with her this time, but she doesn’t mind. She likes spending time with her best friend, but today she doesn’t want any distraction. It will just be her and Peaches and nothing else.
“You came back then?” Ginny steps out of one of the stalls, an empty bucket in her hands. “I was wondering where you’d got to. I thought you’d gone off us – like those flighty young things that turn up once and can’t cope with the smells and the muck.”
Tally swallows and shakes her head furiously.
“I’d be here every day if I could,” she says, her words rushing out in a hurry. “But Mum says it’s too expensive for me to come all the time.”
Ginny makes a huffing sound and thrusts the bucket at Tally.
“Well, you’re here now so we might as well make the most of you. Peaches needs feeding – go on down to the end of the barn and fill this with food.”
She marches off and after a moment’s hesitation, Tally does as she is instructed, filling the bucket and then staggering back under the heavy weight to the stall where Peaches is waiting.
On the other side of the gate, Ginny is whispering quietly into the horse’s ear. Tally waits patiently, watching the way that Peaches seems to quieten and still as Ginny runs her hands over the horse’s flank. Eventually, the stable owner notices her and beckons her in.
“Horses need to be spoken to calmly,” she says, taking the bucket from Tally. “Just because they’re wonderful, strong animals doesn’t mean that they like to be shouted at. I won’t abide any raised voices in my stables – that’s rule number one.”
“I wish it was rule number one at my school,” mutters Tally, sidling along the wall until she’s next to Peaches’ nose.
“Rule number two is that we never force a horse to do something it is afraid of doing,” continues Ginny, emptying the bucket into a trough. “Horses are creatures of habit – they like having the same routines and knowing what to expect. No good can ever come from frightening them with unpredictable behaviour.”
“I have to do scary things all the time.” Tally reaches out her hand and then pauses, glancing at Ginny who gives a short nod. “And not knowing what’s happening next is the worst feeling in the whole world.”
She strokes along the side of Peaches’ nose, and the horse nuzzles against her hand. The stall is quiet as Ginny finishes her jobs, leaving Tally in peace for a while and then, once she’s done, she opens the gate and gestures for Tally to walk through.
“Let’s have a chat,” she says and it isn’t a request. With a reluctant look back at where Peaches is standing, Tally follows Ginny outside, blinking as her eyes adjust to the bright sunshine.
The stable owner is standing near a lush, green paddock where several ponies are being put through their paces. Tally walks up and stands beside her, mimicking the way she leans against the fence on her elbows. And then she waits.
And waits.
And waits a bit more, because despite the request for a chat, it would seem that Ginny isn’t much of a fan of talking. The silence is nice though – nothing like the awkward, scary silence when Miss Balogun asks the class a question and nobody puts their hand up.
“I wish that I was a horse.” Tally breathes out, a long contented sigh as she listens to the sound of the ponies whinnying. “I’d never have to pretend to be someone I’m not.”
Ginny turns slightly in her direction, although Tally notices that she doesn’t look directly at her eyes.
“What do you mean?” she asks. “Who are you pretending to be?”
Tally shrugs. “A normal person. A good person. Someone that other people will like. Someone like them.”
Ginny frowns and turns back to gaze at the ponies. “And who are you really?”
Tally hesitates. This isn’t the kind of conversation that she is used to having. She works really hard to hide the person she is inside, especially with strangers. But there is something about this Ginny woman that makes her want to tell the truth. Maybe it’s because she is a stranger – or maybe it’s because she knows, somehow, that Ginny will get it.
“I’m just a bit different,” she says quietly. “I’ve always been different, but now I’ve found out that there’s an actual reason for it and I don’t really know what to do about it.”
Ginny makes a sniffing noise. “Maybe you could stop worrying about trying to be like everyone else,” she says, “and just be like you.”
A prickle of disappointment flits across Tally’s face. She was wrong. Ginny doesn’t get it any more than the rest of them do.
“It’s not that easy,” she mutters. “You wouldn’t understand. Nobody understands.”
Ginny glances down at her. “You’re not the only autistic girl in the world,” she says, her voice light. “I understand a whole lot more than you might think.”
Tally’s stomach flips over and she clutches hard on to the fence. It’s hard to know which is the more shocking – the fact that Ginny knows about her, or the casual way she says that word.
“Did my mum tell you?” she whispers, the betrayal making her eyes sting. “She promised that she wouldn’t tell anyone else.”
Ginny shakes her head and focuses her attention once more on the ponies. “Did you know that wild horses organize themselves into herds and that they can recognize each other? They use body signals and cues to identify the horses in their group.”
Tally blinks hard, trying not to let the tears fall. Coming to the stables was her one good thing, and now Mum has ruined even that.
“I’ve always preferred horses to people,” continues Ginny. “And just like horses, I can recognize the people in my herd.” She bends over and plucks a long blade of grass that she proceeds to rub between her fingers. “I know that you are autistic because I’m autistic too – and you very much remind me of myself at your age. That’s why I put you with Peaches – I knew that you had passion and fire and strength. Your mother never said a word.”
Tally gawps at Ginny, her mouth open.
“You have autism?” she says. “You? But you have all this!”
She waves her hand around, taking in the stables and the paddocks and the horses.
Ginny makes a snorting noise. “I’m very lucky,” she agrees. “Although I had to work extra hard to get through school and then gain my Stable Management and Equine Care qualifications at college. It wasn’t always easy, but I knew what I wanted to do and I worked every weekend at my local stables to get experience. And even though I find dealing with people quite tricky, being around the horses all day more than makes up for it.”
“But you don’t look autistic,” says Tally, knowing even as the words leave her mouth that they make absolutely no sense.
“Neither do you,” shoots back Ginny. “Anyway, what is an autistic person supposed to look like?”
Tally shrugs. She doesn’t have an answer for that.
“You said that you want to be like everyone else,” says Ginny. “And I understand that. I have days when it just seems easier to put on a mask and pretend.”
“You have a mask?” Tally asks, surprised. “So do I! Mine is a tiger mask and when I wear it I feel like nobody can hurt me. What’s yours like?”
Ginny’s mouth flickers. “I haven’t got a tiger mask,” she confesses. “Although that does sound pretty great. This is my mask, right here.” She waves a hand at her own face. “Sometimes I take a deep breath and I hide how I’m really feeling behind a huge smile. And even if it’s too noisy or people are having a conversation that confuses me or I just feel quiet inside and as if I need some time alone, I act like everything is fine.”
Tally nods so quickly that the world blurs for a moment. “I do that too!”
“Everyone does it now and again,” Ginny tells her. “But the most important thing to remember is that you can’t stay hidden behind a mask for long. If you don’t let the real Tally out, then eventually you’re going to be so tired and burnt out from all the masking that things are going to go wrong.”
Tally stares at her. “What do you mean?”
Ginny exhales slowly. “You have to be brave, Tally. You have to love the person you are and embrace the fact that you’re a bit different.”
“Sometimes I feel a lot different,” Tally points out. “And sometimes I feel like I mess everything up and make life hard for everyone who knows me. I can be quite hard to love, I think.” She pauses for a moment. “Do you love the person who you are, then?”
Ginny goes quiet and Tally can’t tell if she’s gazing at the ponies or far off into the sky. In the paddock, two of the ponies start nuzzling each other and Tally watches, mesmerized, as one of them rests its head over the neck of the other. Whinnies and nickers float across the grass, and the warm air has a tang of fresh hay. Despite the unexpected conversation, Tally feels more peaceful than she has in a while.
“I don’t always love the person I am when I’m hiding behind my mask.” Ginny’s voice is quiet.
Tally clambers up on to the second rung of the fence. “Don’t hide then,” she suggests, lifting her arms up like she’s flying. “Just be you. I think you are brilliant, just the way you are.”
Ginny glances down at the ground, and when she looks back up, her eyes are glistening. “Thank you, Tally,” she says quietly. “That means an awful lot.”
“Ginny!” The shout comes from the stables and when Tally turns, she sees Saira beckoning from the open door. “The delivery is here. Do you want to check it over before I sign for it?”
“Give me one minute,” calls back Ginny, and then she climbs up on to the fence, next to Tally. “You’ve given me some excellent advice,” she says. “Can I give you some in return?”
Tally nods but doesn’t take her eyes off the ponies.
“It took me a long time to learn that the true me is somebody worth knowing,” says Ginny. “Somebody worth loving. Don’t wait as long as I have to appreciate what makes you special.”
And then she jumps down and marches off to the stables, leaving Tally alone in the sunshine, with one million thoughts whizzing round her head.
All of which are pretty good.