‘She’s called Petal.’
‘I know,’ I say.
‘Wannae stroke her?’
‘Aye.’
I walk up to the caretaker and the horse and pat her on the side. Her coat is matted. It is a dirty brown colour with a splodge of white on her face.
Mr Sharples watches me pat her. ‘Aye she’s a biggie, sixteen hands,’ he says.
‘She smells a bit,’ I say.
‘Well, wouldn’t you if you’d been pulling round this cart all day?’ He points to the wooden trailer behind her, filled with hedge clippings. ‘New here?’ he asks. ‘I havenae seen you afore.’
He has, he saw me before the fight with Glenda McAdam, but maybe I am just forgettable.
‘Nah, been here since a wean. I dinnae go to the school, though, I go to the grammar school, so am not about as much as the others.’
‘Wannae help me walk Petal back to the stables?’
‘Aye, all right,’ I say.
Mr Sharples is wearing dungarees with a stained light green shirt underneath. He looks dirty, like his face needs a proper wash. His grey hair is brushed forward like some men do when their hair is going thin. I don’t know why they do it, Mr Paterson doesn’t. His is trimmed but you are not to mention his lack of hair, as he can get angry about it.
‘She’s a great friend,’ he says, ‘and do you know the best thing about her?’
‘Whit?’
‘You can tell her all your secrets and she won’t tell a soul. And we’ve all got secrets, haven’t we?’
I nod.
We walk down Love Avenue and he lets me hold the lead-rope.
‘She’s sixteen years old, is Petal. Old enough to start courting, aye? You’re still a bit young for that, aren’t you?’
‘Aye.’
‘Give it time, ’fore you know it you’ll be fighting them off, eh?’
I don’t want to talk about boys. I stroke Petal’s nose some more, and change the subject. ‘What does she eat?’
‘Mainly oats. It’s nearly time for her tea so you can help me feed her.’
‘All right,’ I say.
We turned onto Church Road.
‘I havenae even asked your name, young lady. What is it?’
‘Lesley.’
‘Aww, that’s a lovely name. My name is Mr Sharples.’
‘I know. You live over at the farmhouse just outside the main gate.’
‘Aye I do, I do. And Petal here lives in the field out behind it. She has a lovely field to wander around in.’
‘Is she lonely out there all on her own?’
‘D’you know, I’ve never asked her that. Hey, Petal, do you get lonely in that field all on your own? I bet you dinnae; I bet you’ve got lots of other animals you are friends with.’
‘How long have you worked here?’
‘Twenty years now. I’ve seen them all come and go. So many of you youngsters, you’re everywhere, and all growing up so fast.’
We walk to the farmhouse. He uncouples the cart and pulls it around the side, then comes back and says, ‘I’m just going to get a bucket of feed from inside, you two stay here.’
‘Whit if she runs off?’ I say.
‘Look inta her eyes, Lesley. She’s tired, she dinnae want to run off. She just wants a bit of food and a chance to stop pulling this cart.’ He goes inside.
I turn to talk to Petal. ‘You wouldnae run off, will you? You are a nice horse, and a nice horse wouldnae run off.’
She lowers her head to me and I rub the top of her nose and her cheeks. He was right, she does look tired. Her head jolts up when Mr Sharples comes back out with her tea and she shuffles a little with her feet.
‘Bring her round the back, there’s a place where I hook up the bucket.’
I lead Petal round the back of the farmhouse and he fixes the bucket to a fence pole. Petal goes straight in with her nose and starts crunching away.
I think, Here I am with Mr Sharples and Petal and no one knows where I am, and I am always supposed to tell someone where I am going and to be in a pair. I feel a sudden slash of fear.
‘I expect you’ve been pretty scared with all the goings-on around here of late?’ he says.
‘They killed my best friend.’
‘Who was that?’
‘Jonesy. Morag Jones, they killed her.’
He is silent for a moment and then says, ‘I’m very sorry.’
‘I’m gonnae catch them. I’m gonnae make them pay for whit they did.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ he replies.
‘You dinnae believe me, do you? No one believes me, but I will catch them. No one does that to Jonesy and gets away with it.’
‘It must be really hard.’
‘It is.’
‘D’you want a piece of chocolate?’
‘I should be getting back to the house.’
‘It’s just inside. It would cheer you up.’
‘Naw, I have to go, I have to get back, but thank you.’
‘S’all right,’ Mr Sharples says. ‘Any time you want to come and say hello to Petal just come on over, she’s great at helping you not feel so sad. She’s saved me from feeling sad many a time.’
I wave goodbye to him and to Petal and walk back to Cottage 5.
*
When I get back, Pam is on the front steps with Shona.
‘Where you been?’ asks Pam.
‘I walked Petal the horse back to the farmhouse with Mr Sharples.’
‘The caretaker?’
‘Uh huh.’
‘Oh God, Leeeesssss, whit did you do that for? He’s a weirdy.’
‘He seemed nice.’
‘Les, he’s a creep, he whistles at girls when they go past, did you no know?’
‘Yeah, the way he looks at you is gross,’ adds Shona.
‘He was nice to me, let me feed the horse and offered me some chocolate.’
‘Oh God, Lesley. It couldae been dangerous. He’s strange, I wouldn’t put it past him being the one whit’s been doing it all. Jesus, Les, you had a lucky escape.’
‘Getaway.’
‘Think about it, Les. Who has keys to all the houses? Who can go anywhere in the grounds? Who would be the best person to hide a murder weapon?’ says Pam.
‘But—’
‘He’s no married, is he?’
‘I dunno.’
‘He’s not. He’s over forty and he’s no married. Why not? Cos he likes young girls, doesn’t he?’
‘I saw the polis talking to him two weeks ago, before Jonesy.’
‘They spoke to everyone.’
‘I’m telling you, Lesley, be very careful.’
I feel bad. He was really nice to me, but they are right. Mr Sharples is a bit strange, I think, and I worry about him for the rest of the day.