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riding to be done between us, this time of year.”
    Tessa would not let on that she wished she could. She tossed her head impatiently to indicate riding was for the mentally impaired. Gilly sighed. There was a limit to her patience.
    â€œSweep the yard,” she snapped.
    It was big yard with uneven concrete, and a pig to sweep. All Tessa was fit for, Gilly decided.
    Tessa’s horse arrived in the early afternoon.
    With the other three, Tessa stared in dismay at the dismal animal that stumbled down the ramp. Peter and Jimmy frowned, then laughed.
    â€œThe Grand National, he said,” Peter snorted. “God save us!”
    â€œYou have to laugh, or you’d cry,” Jimmy said.
    The horse was very tall, long-backed, gaunt and ribby with a dull hide the colour of faded conkers. It had an amiable face, an ugly white blaze, and long, wagging ears. Its pale-coloured mane and tail looked as if goats had been at them. It was as unlike the three other arrivals as a horse could possibly be.
    â€œNo wonder no one bid for it,” Peter said.
    To cap it all, following on its heels, unhaltered, came a small piebald Shetland.
    The driver said, “That one’s free. They won’t go anywhere without each other, so I was told. Put it in the same box they said.”
    â€œCripes, I don’t believe this,” Peter said.
    Jimmy grinned. “Just the job for our Tessa.”
    They gave her the head-collar rope.
    Tessa felt humiliated beyond words. It was all a great joke, with them enjoying taking it out on her. They were all laughing.
    â€œThe man’s a maniac. It’ll never see a racecourse, this one, let alone Aintree.”
    â€œYou’ll have to tell him,” Jimmy said. “It’s not fair to take his money.”
    â€œPut him in his box, Tessa,” Peter said. “We’ll have to let the old man down gently. I told you – he’s an idiot.”
    â€œMind the horse doesn’t tread on you. You’ll never walk again,” Jimmy said.
    The horse followed Tessa through the open door. The piebald pony trotted in behind.
    The driver said, “The pony’s called Lucky.”
    â€œGot the horse’s passport?” Peter asked.
    â€œThey never gave it me. Horse is called Buffoon, that’s all I know.”
    â€œWe want the passport. Tell ’em when you get back. Or I’ll give them a ring.”
    The driver closed up the ramp and departed and the others peered in over the door, still unbelieving.
    â€œI’ll tell you one thing,” Jimmy said, “this one will do nothing for our reputation.”
    â€œNo. But meanwhile, he’s paid the first month in advance. That’s rare enough. We feed the brute and treat him nicely. After that…” Peter shrugged, laughed. “I thought I’d seen everything! Just goes to show…”
    They all wandered away, chortling. Tessa took off the horse’s headcollar, choking back tears of disappointment, now there was no one to see. They’d made a fool of her, and so had the horse.
    â€œYou pig,” she said viciously.
    The horse turned its ugly head and regarded her kindly. Then it went to the haynet and snatched a mouthful. What it dropped on the floor the little pony hoovered up. What a pair! The pony seemed to underline the ridiculousness of her charge.
    Tessa tried to tell herself that nothing was any different, but she could not fool herself into believing that she hadn’t cared tuppence about what stupid horse she was getting. A little part of her had felt interested, keen even. It had thought she might get – by chance – the best one in the stable. Then she remembered she wanted to get the sack. Or did she? She didn’t know what she wanted. She laid her head against the great gaunt flank and cried. Nobody would see. Nobody cared. Not even the stupid horse. It turned its ugly head to look at her. With hay sticking out of its mouth it