Chapter 14
The clouds looked like rain as we got in the car. I had a half-thought that if it did start to sprinkle, my shoes might get muddy, but I dismissed it. Rain or no rain, there was no way I was turning up to dinner at the neighbours’ crummy little farmhouse in gum boots. I was from the city. I’d show these bumpkins a thing or two.
As it turned out, the two words I picked to describe their farmhouse were completely off the mark. There was nothing crummy or little about Ness’s stud farm.
For a start the driveway was actually a driveway. With proper gravel and everything. And it had no lumps or bumps. It was smooth. With a fence down both sides and two long rows of liquid amber trees that were just starting to drop their orange and yellow leaves.
Okay, I thought to myself. So it’s not as bad as I thought. After we went through a big gate the driveway swung around to the right into a huge gravel-covered yard with a massive oak tree in the middle of it and a big shed-looking building off to one side. On the other side was a big weatherboard house with a massive wraparound veranda. Everything else was lush garden, green lawns and some pretty impressive autumn trees.
“Wow,” said Charlie. “It’s beautiful.”
“You can probably see back to our shed from here,” said Dad excitedly, looking to the right and nearly swerving into the fence. “Oh, no you can’t. Sorry. But that’s only because it’s dark. When we build and get the solar panels up you’ll be able to see the house.” He was pointing to where he could see the slope down to the creek and some open space. “See there? That’s one of our paddocks.”
We pulled up and piled out of the car. This was looking good. Maybe it wouldn’t be a complete write-off after all. My eyes took in the scene across the courtyard, from the house right over to the shed. Or, I should say, the stables. They had those half-door things that you see in kids’ books about farms.
And half-doors always, always have horses behind them.
My heart went flump.
Inside the stables I could see some horses. Two horses, specifically. An enormous brown one and a very large white one.
Uh oh, I thought. And then, double uh oh. Because out of the open stable doors came two people. Two people I recognised. A brother and a sister, both with blond hair and blue eyes.
Mr Royal Easter Show and Miss Wrong Shirt.
There was nowhere to hide. And no way to back out. I briefly considered faking a stomach ache and demanding to be taken back to the farm, but Mum was already leading the way, “Hi, we’re the Franks family. You must be Ness’s kids.”
I hung back, avoiding shaking hands and trying to look like anybody else but myself.
“I’m Tessa,” said the girl, who today was sporting jeans and a cheap top that could only have come from a very cheap shop.
“James,” said the boy, who’d swapped his flanny for a surf shirt. Better, I thought, but then I looked at his feet and sighed. Still with the Cuban heels. I guess you can’t help what you are.
Mum was pointing us out. “These are Charlie and Josh. You guys look about the same age. Fifteen right? Good guess. And Tessa, you’re, what, 13 or 14?”
Blondie nodded and smiled. “Thirteen and a half.”
Mum kept going. “And this,” she said, turning around and looking for me, “is... where are you? Where’ve you gone? Ah, there you are.” She pulled me out from behind Dad. “This is Coco.”
I looked up and gave a half smile that kind of said, ‘hey, who knew, right?’ and I saw their faces turn from expectant and happy to doubtful and surprised. Tessa opened her eyes wide and looked at James, who just raised his eyebrows.
Mum was confused. “Have I missed something?” she said.
“We’ve met before,” said James. He looked at me and shrugged.
Mum looked more confused. “You’ve met?”
“Yes. They rode through the property the other day,” I said, trying to keep it all very calm and laidback.
“You didn’t say anything about it,” she said, but I cut her off before she could get started. “Yeah, they’ve got these great horses,” I said. “What were their names again?” I looked at James, daring him to contradict me.
“Our horses?” he said. “I don’t think we introduced them properly.” He gave me a look. I didn’t know what it meant. “But you can come and see them now if you like.”
“Absolutely,” I said, smiling brightly and blinking. Charming was always a good option in uncomfortable situations. “They’re so beautiful.”
Mum’s head was clearly still spinning but she followed everyone with Tessa and James back to the stables. As we reached the door I wrinkled up my nose. The smell coming from inside was strong enough to knock your socks off. Or even your Cuban heels, I thought. Pity...
But seriously. It was strong. Forget the pit toilet. That was nothing in comparison to this. Hang out with a bunch of big animals and their dung in a small space and you’ll get a cast iron stomach.
I held my breath and plunged in through the doors. There were about eight horses in the stables all together. I wonder how many kilos of poo that is per day? I thought idly. And who’s supposed to clean it up? But there was no time for idle thoughts. Tessa was showing us the horses.
In the first stall was a little Shetland pony, about the size of a very big dog. It was black and shiny with great big eyes and amazing lashes. And then the most surprising thing happened. The softy-teddy-loving part of me said Awwwww and melted and all of a sudden I got it. I could finally see what horse-crazy nine year-olds and the whole My Little Pony industry were on about. This horse was cute. And the one next to it, a small brown and white pony, was also cute, with a mane that I just wanted to reach out and bury my face in.
Of course, I didn’t let on. Act cool. Be calm, I told myself. It’s just a pony.
“These are Sparky and Cuddles,” said Tessa. “We used to ride them but we’re obviously a bit big for them now. We keep them for the kids who come riding.”
“What do you mean?” said Josh. His voice sounded really interested, and I noticed how close he was standing to Tessa.
“Didn’t you know?” she said, smiling at him. (Urgh said my gross-out meter.) “We’ve got a horse riding business. We take people out for rides around the property—and sometimes on your property too. At least, we used to.”
“Yeah,” said James, chiming in. “We had an arrangement with the old owners.” He looked directly at me so I gave him a half roll back. “There are some great rides around here. You can go right up into the national park, and then back to the river.”
“The horses love it,” said Tessa, gazing up at Josh. Ick. I wanted to puke. Don’t get married. Please, don’t get married, I thought. I just cannot wear whatever disaster of a bridesmaid dress you would choose.
With Tessa love-struck, James took the lead and showed us the rest of the horses. We met Nellie, Perry, Peach and Fozzles, all different colours and sizes and then finally we got to the two big, scary-looking beasts at the back. These were a whole different ballgame from the toy ponies at the front.
“This is Boldy,” said James pointing to the white horse, who nuzzled into his shoulder. Boldy was standing next to the big brown horse but when James reached out his hand for a pat, it gave him a nudge like it was saying ‘go away’ and then snorted and stamped its toe or paw or hoof or whatever it’s called. I moved back a step and onto Tessa’s foot.
“Sorry,” I said, but she was already apologising to me.
“No, I’m sorry.” She made a face at me. “Cupcake doesn’t always like everyone. She’s a bit hard to handle.”
“Cupcake?” I said to James, who somehow was standing right beside me now. He was close enough that I could hear him breathe. “You ride a horse called Cupcake?” I giggled.
He looked at me and for a second his bright blue eyes took my breath away. But then I saw his expression—disappointed.
“Whate
ver, Coco,” he said. “Come ride with us some time. If you want.” He shrugged and turned away but as he did something else surprising happened.
A part of my stomach turned over, burst into tears and curled up in a ball. I tried to squash the feeling of smallness away and not care, but for some reason that I didn’t understand, I did care. This isn’t supposed to happen, I thought. I’m better than him. This is embarrassing. And a bit weird.
And then it got even weirder. I’m going to cry! Because a guy I don’t even like doesn’t approve of me! My face turned red and my eyes start to well up and I started rubbing at them with my wrist.
“You okay Coco?” said Mum, a puzzled look on her face. “Your eyes look all red.”
“Maybe I’m allergic to hay,” I said hurriedly, looking away. “I’ll go stand outside.”
I walked away from the group. Behind me Charlie was oohing and aahing over Fozzles (“I love piebalds! They’re so cute,” she said over and over) and everyone was reaching out their hands, having a pat of Boldy and Nellie and Perry and Barry and Harry or whatever their names were. No one was game to pat Cupcake.
The tears were still threatening and I decided I needed some space and some peace so I headed for the side door, out to the garden. I could feel the fresh air on my face as I got closer to the entrance and ignored Tessa who was calling out something to me about watching out.
At last, I thought, some privacy! And I took a step out into the garden.
I should not have ignored Tessa.
What she had said was, “Watch out. There’s a massive puddle outside the door.”
It would have been wise to listen.
Because the puddle wasn’t just water. It was mud, mixed with horse poo. And I was in it. I looked down at my shirt which was now splashed with brown drops, and then down at my feet, which were nowhere to be seen. The mud had squished up past my ankles and into my jeans and completely covered my pink satin flats.
I was stuck.
If my life was a movie, this would have been the perfect scenario for the good looking and charming but slightly accident-prone heroine (ie. me) to meet Ness, the classy neighbour.
I’m beginning to think that maybe something’s going on without me realising it because yes, you guessed it. Right then Ness appeared.
“Hi, I’m Ness,” said Ness (obviously). She was big and smiley with curly hair and she was wearing head to toe horse gear. Jodhpurs, a button down shirt and a massive big vest. She stuck out her hand at me so I went to shake it but she laughed. “No. I’m pulling you out.”
I grabbed her hand, feeling silly, and came out of the swamp.
“So sorry. We really must get that hole filled in with gravel. Let’s get you something to wear,” said Ness. Her voice was kind. “You’re covered. Come on into the house and I’ll fix you up.”
I hardly wanted to speak because I still felt like crying so I sniffled and shuffled along behind her and then she hugged me and for some reason I felt so safe and warm and cared for, like I hadn’t felt in months, that I did everything she said, even when it involved taking off most of my muddy clothes on the veranda (she politely averted her eyes), cleaning off in the laundry and putting on an indescribable purple something of Tessa’s (ugh) that she brought out to me.
“That colour really suits you,” she said, looking at me once I’d cleaned up and changed. “I bet you wear that a lot. Purple brings out your eyes.”
“No,” I said. I shrugged. “I don’t have anything purple. I used to wear it all the time but Samantha said...” and my voice trailed off. “I mean, I kind of went off it for a while.”
“Well, you should go back to it,” said Ness. “It’s great on you.”
I guess everyone else would have called the evening a success. We ate lamb stew and a chocolate, self-saucing pudding which were yum by anyone’s standard. Mum and Dad talked non-stop to Ness about the land, horses, farming and driveways, and James and Tessa talked non-stop to Josh and Charlie. A couple of times I tried to join in their conversation but no-one seemed to hear anything I said—they just talked over me—so I ate and listened and felt small and insignificant and sorry for myself in someone else’s clothes.
After dinner the kids (except me) took themselves off to hang out in James’ room while I sat in with Mum and Dad and Ness, pretending I didn’t want to be part of it, and looking instead at Ness’s jam-packed, overflowing bookshelves. As I listened to the laughing coming from down the hall I suddenly felt sad. And low. And (here I surprised myself for a third time that evening) lonely.
It was weird. I hadn’t changed my mind; I still didn’t want to be in Budgong. I wanted to go back to Sydney. And I was determined not to like Tessa and James, who were daggy and hokey and not up to my standards. Plus James seemed so boring and straightforward. He obviously couldn’t stand me, and I wasn’t going to hang out with someone who wasn’t on my wavelength.
But that wasn’t the main problem.
I suddenly realised I still wanted friends—at least for now. Once I got back to Sydney I could pick up where I left off, but it’s hard to be in a place where there’s absolutely no-one who likes you and no one you like.
Especially not for a whole year.