CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I start running along the coast road towards the stables. I can’t fix what’s happened, but I can do something about Mabel. My heart is pounding in my ears and my stomach is aching.
I don’t stop, even when I start stumbling because my legs are shaking and it feels as if my lungs are going to explode. I just keep on going, imagining the panic Mabel felt when she was running away, forcing myself to carry on.
I don’t hear the beeping at first and when the car passes I don’t even recognize it. Mum stops in the middle of the road – she’s got the door open and the hazard lights all flashing and she runs towards me and throws herself at me and squeezes me in the middle of the road. Another car passes by and I hear a voice, distorted by the wind, yelling something out of the window.
Mum pulls back and looks at me.
‘Grace.’ And I can see she’s been crying and her face is all white. ‘Oh God, Grace. What were you thinking? Where did you go?’
And I just look at her because I don’t have the words to make sense of what I’m feeling.
She puts her arm round my shoulder and it’s uncomfortable, but I don’t shrug it off, and she sort of steers me into the car and shuts the door and runs round and gets in.
‘Fasten your seat belt.’ She starts the car and drives away before she fastens hers.
‘This is my fault,’ she says. ‘Shit,’ she adds, as she pulls the car across the junction on to the shore road towards the stables. A lorry blares its horn at her as it misses us by a second.
‘And where the hell is your father when all this is going on?’ she shouts, banging her hand on the steering wheel as we get stuck at the traffic light. ‘It’s my fault. I took my eye off the ball.’
I don’t say anything. I look out at the Spar and remember riding past and how it felt when I was soaring and Mabel was flying and how we were amazing.
We pull into the stable yard and for a second I hesitate. I can’t bring myself to open the car door and see what’s happened.
Mum comes round and pulls it open for me.
‘She’s fine, honey,’ she says, and extends a hand to pull me out of my seat. I feel like everything is made of rusty metal. I walk like a robot towards Mabel’s box, passing the vet’s Land Rover as I go.
I don’t want to look inside.
‘Grace,’ says Polly. She looks through the half-open stable door and her face looks – I don’t know. I don’t know the look on her face. It’s not one I recognize.
‘Julia.’ Polly’s squatting by the vet’s side, but she reaches across and pushes the door ajar to let us in and Mabel turns to look at me and she whickers a greeting. I feel tears rolling down my cheeks and they’re hot.
‘Grace, I’m sorry I screamed at you.’
Polly runs a hand through her hair so it sticks up wonkily and her expression changes to one I do recognize. She looks at me kindly. She wobbles slightly and puts out a hand on the floor to balance herself.
Mabel heaves a huge sigh, blowing through her nostrils, and shakes herself with a scraping of hooves on the cobbled stable floor.
‘She’s a bit battered and bruised –’ the vet straightens up and turns to look at Mum – ‘but nothing a bit of TLC won’t fix.’ She runs a hand along Mabel’s back and Mabel gives an involuntary shudder, her tail swishing.
‘That’s good – her reflexes are fine,’ she says, and smiles at me. ‘Have you two been in the wars?’
‘Something like that,’ says Mum. She looks at me and frowns.
‘Looks like one of you needs a hot bath and the other a large gin and tonic.’ The vet taps something into her phone. ‘I’ve put a couple of stitches in the gash in her thigh – it was clean, so it should heal up without much of a mark.’
‘And box rest?’ says Polly, putting a hand on Mabel’s neck. I still haven’t reached out to her. I feel too guilty.
‘Keep her in tonight, but I’d get her out in the morning – have you got an isolation paddock?’
Polly nods. ‘I can shift a couple of the ponies around and put her somewhere safe.’ She ruffles Mabel’s long mane gently. ‘We don’t want you getting in any more trouble.’
Mum holds the stable door open and then follows the vet, asking something about the bill. I realize that it’ll be enormous – call out on a weekend is huge, and Mabel’s had stitches. I feel another wave of sick dread washing over me.
‘Right, then,’ says Polly. And she smiles at me kindly. ‘Let’s get this one bedded down for the night.’
I reach a hand across, holding it out carefully. Mabel puts her muzzle gently into it and breathes a huff of warm breath through my fingers, the fine hairs of her whiskers tickling my skin. I could just collapse on the floor and cry forever, but my face is still stony and unmoving. Inside I want to scream. It’s too big to let it out, too scary. I need to put it to one side and I can be upset later, when I’m home, when I know I’ve done everything I can.
There isn’t time to feel cold any more. I get a couple of bags of shavings from the barn and rip the plastic coverings open, scattering them around to make Mabel’s bed as soft and warm as I can. I bank up the sides so if she does lie down there won’t be a draught creeping in from under the stable door.
Mum slips back into the stable. ‘How’s she doing?’
‘Good,’ says Polly. ‘She was lucky.’
‘I can’t thank you enough, Polly.’ Mum turns to look at me, putting her purse back in her bag. I feel a bit sick thinking about the bill. I add it to my things-to-think-about-later list and turn away, fixing the handles on Mabel’s water bucket so they’re facing the wall neatly.
Polly looks at me for a moment and I cast my eyes down.
‘What on earth were you thinking?’
‘I –’ I have to stop for a moment and swallow because the wave of everything is threatening to engulf me again. ‘I just –’
Mum shakes her head. ‘Thank God you were there.’ She reaches out to Polly, taking her hand and squeezing it.
‘It’s fine.’ Polly shakes her head. ‘The minute I saw the lot of them crossing the road I told Mel to pull up on Carol Street. We were walking down to give you a bollocking –’
I look up for a moment. She looks fierce but kind at the same time.
‘I could tell that it was going to end in some sort of disaster. And the next second, Mabel comes hurtling along the beach path like a bat out of hell.’
I close my eyes because I don’t want to picture it, but when I do I flash back to standing there, watching Mabel careering along the path.
‘Honestly, Polly, I can’t – I just – if you hadn’t been there . . .’ Mum tails off again.
Mabel gives a harrumphing sigh and clops over to her water. She takes a drink and looks at me, her eyes huge and liquid brown. She’s got a dressing on her one foreleg and some scrapes on the other, and the gash the vet has stitched makes me feel queasy. And guilty. I did this. I start shaking again. It starts inside, and within moments my knees are trembling so much that Mum reaches out and puts her arms round me.
‘Take her home, Julia. I’m staying in the flat above the tack room tonight; I’ll keep an eye on Mabel.’
‘I’m fine,’ I protest through chattering teeth.
‘You’ve had a shock,’ says Polly firmly. ‘You need a hot cup of tea and a big sleep.’
‘But I need to be here for her.’
‘Polly’s right, honey,’ says Mum. I try to protest, but she’s squeezed me more tightly so that when I speak it’s into a mouthful of her coat.
‘I promise you I’ll call if there’s any problem.’ Polly puts an arm over Mabel’s neck. ‘Look, she’s telling you to go home and get a rest. We’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Are you sure?’
I’m suddenly so tired that I feel as if I could sleep forever.
‘Promise.’
‘Polly, I can’t thank you enough for this. I – that’s just – I don’t even have the words,’ begins Mum.
‘No need,’ says Polly, shaking her head.
I don’t have the words either. And I can’t get my mouth to work. It’s like my face is frozen.
‘Thank you,’ I say, and I want to say so much more, but those two words cost me all the energy I have left.
I allow myself to be propelled towards the car by Mum. My legs are leaden and stiff. I’m still shaking.
‘Right,’ says Mum, switching on the engine. ‘That is more than enough drama for one night.’
It’s dark now and the headlights shine over the little paddock where the ponies live as we turn out of the yard. Tomorrow Mabel will be allowed out there to stretch her legs.
‘I’m sorry,’ says Mum, as we pull on to the shore road. ‘This is all my fault. I’ve been so busy thinking about myself that I’ve forgotten you girls.’
I turn to look at her, but she’s staring ahead, both hands on the wheel. I’m not sure where she gets that idea from. We drive past the park and the dip in the road and I close my eyes again because I don’t want to picture it. I’ve almost killed my horse and my attempts at making myself a popular like Holly have resulted in this. I’m sitting alone in the car, and I’ve got nobody.
‘Things are going to change,’ says Mum as we turn up towards home. The indicator light ticks and I tap my finger and thumb in time with it to reassure myself. But I’m so far past counting or tapping or humming or anything that would normally reset my brain. I feel as if I’m falling into a dark tunnel and I still can’t stop shaking.
‘When we get Leah back from Megan’s house tomorrow, I’m doing proper Sunday lunch and we’re going to have a serious chat.’
I press my head sideways against the cool of the glass, feeling the strands of my hair prickle on my skin.
‘Nearly there.’
She reaches across and squeezes my knee. It’s supposed to comfort me, I know, but it’s just more information when my brain’s already overloaded.
We pull into the drive. All I want to do is make it upstairs, climb under my covers, and sleep for a week. I shuffle in, ahead of Mum.
Leah’s left her Adventure Time satchel lying on the doorstep.
I step over it. The door is ajar.
I push it open, turning as I do so. ‘Did you leave the door open?’ I say to Mum, over my shoulder.
‘No, I didn’t.’ Mum’s face goes pale.