Chapter 27
“Dad phoned after you went to bed last night,” Caroline informed the two children at breakfast the next day. “His newsdesk has finally agreed to send in another correspondent to replace him. He’s flying out on Saturday night and should be home some time on Sunday.”
“Hurray!” shouted Charlie, his mouth smeared with raspberry jam. “Did you tell him I’m headline news?”
“No, not yet!” Caroline laughed. “I thought you’d want to tell him yourself.”
Caroline looked happier than she had for weeks, Poppy thought as she shrugged on her blazer and let herself out of the back door. Scarlett was waiting for her by the postbox and as they walked to the bus stop together Poppy realised with surprise that she was actually looking forward to school. A couple of her new classmates gave her some gentle ribbing about the story in the Herald but she followed Scarlett’s advice and played along with them and her five minutes of fame were soon forgotten.
At lunchtime their talk inevitably turned to Cloud and the drift. It was all Poppy thought about these days.
“I’m going try one last time to find Cloud before they start rounding up the ponies on Saturday morning. Caroline’s going to come with me,” she told her friend.
“I don’t believe it,” groaned Scarlett. “Mum’s dragging me and Alex to Plymouth for the day on Saturday. Says we both need new clothes for the winter. There’s no way she’ll let me come with you instead. Normally I’d love a day’s shopping but I’d much rather help you catch Cloud.”
Privately Poppy thought that the fewer people who were looking for Cloud the better, but hurting her friend’s feelings was the last thing she wanted to do so she grimaced convincingly and said, “That’s such a shame. But I promise I’ll text you if we do find him.”
Saturday morning finally arrived, mild and sunny. By nine o’clock Poppy, Charlie and Caroline were ready to go. Poppy ran into the tackroom, grabbed an old rucksack and swung it over her shoulders before looking over the door of Chester’s stable.
“I’m keeping you in today,” she told the old donkey. “I don’t want you being upset by all the noise and commotion of the drift. You’ll be safe in here.” She blew him a kiss and joined Caroline and Charlie. They set off towards Waterby, where the ponies would be herded into a temporary corral before they were sorted. As they walked they could hear the distant sound of neighing and the roar of quad bikes. Poppy could feel her stomach churning. They passed flat-capped farmers in checked shirts and tweed jackets, their craggy faces inscrutable as they headed for the moors, walking sticks in hand.
“Scarlett said that some of the people rounding up the ponies are on horseback and others ride quad bikes,” said Poppy, slightly out of breath as they marched up a steep lane that led to one of the bigger tors behind Waterby.
“Look!” cried Charlie, as they rounded a corner and the moor stretched out in front of them. In the distance they could see a small group of Dartmoor ponies picking their way through the rocks as they headed towards the village. The herd, driven by three women on cobs and a boy in his late teens on a quad bike, was soon joined by another gaggle of ponies that cantered down a grassy path flanked by gorse bushes. Their coats already thickening in preparation for a harsh Dartmoor winter, the ponies flashed past Poppy, Caroline and Charlie. Poppy’s eyes skimmed the dark bays, blacks, chestnuts, skewbalds, piebalds and red and blue roans. There were two grey ponies in the group, but neither was Cloud and she breathed a sigh of relief.
For the next couple of hours they watched as more and more ponies trickled down from the highest parts of the moor, forming a mass of streaming manes and heaving flanks. There was still no sign of Cloud and Poppy could feel her spirits rise. He knew the moor so well. Maybe he had managed to hide from the drivers.
“Well, hello!” said a familiar voice, and the three of them turned to see Henry Blossom standing behind them, his camera around his neck, his camera bag attached, as always, to his stooped right shoulder.
“How are you all? Not planning another adventure on the moor I hope?” he asked, looking at Charlie with a grin.
“No,” answered Charlie, sheepishly. “We’re watching the ponies. Why are you here?”
“I’m covering the drift for the Herald – we do every year,” he explained. He looked behind to where Sniffer Smith, notebook in hand, was talking to one of the rugged old farmers. “This year Sniffer is planning to write a feature and flog it to one of the Sunday papers. Always has his eye on the main chance, that one.”
Poppy glanced at the journalist, who was now heading towards them. Sniffer was as unpleasant as Henry was likeable, and she didn’t trust him one inch.
“Shall we go?” she said under her breath to Caroline who, seeing Sniffer approaching, agreed at once. They said hasty goodbyes to Henry before turning and walking off.
“What do you want to do now, Poppy? Stay and watch the ponies as they come off the moor to see if we see Cloud?” asked Caroline.
“If I was Cloud I’d be hiding in the Riverdale wood,” announced Charlie suddenly. “It’s so overgrown the quad bikes and horses and riders wouldn’t be able to get in. We could go and have a look.”
“That’s actually a really good idea, Charlie. If we walk quickly it shouldn’t take us more than half an hour to get there,” said Poppy.
“But what are we going to do if we do see him?” Caroline asked.
Poppy looked over her shoulder at her rucksack. “I’ve got a headcollar and leadrope in here, plus a scoop filled with Chester’s pony nuts. It’s been digging in my back all morning. I just hope Cloud trusts me enough to let me catch him.”
Half an hour later they reached the edge of the wood. Caroline followed the two children as they plunged into the trees, struggling to keep up as they ducked and weaved around branches and over fallen logs.
“You seem to know the wood pretty well,” she panted, as they all stopped in front of a fallen tree trunk.
“Must be all that badger watching,” grinned Poppy, as she scrambled over, Charlie following closely behind. Eventually they reached the river and followed it down to the small beach where Poppy and Charlie had first seen Cloud. There was no sign of him today.
“What should we do, Poppy?” asked Caroline quietly.
“I think you and Charlie should go and sit on that log and I’ll stay here by the river with the pony nuts and headcollar. I’ve a feeling Cloud will come to us.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Poppy’s green eyes were shining. “Because I’m pretty certain that for the last ten minutes he’s been following us.”