Read Online The Wild Boy and Queen Moon by K M Peyton - Free Book Online

Fireworks by his reins.
    ‘Oh, Lor’! What’s happened?’
    Sandy made a rush for the door.
    Julia shouted, ‘He’s come off. He’s unconscious! Can somebody go down?’
    Sandy ran to take King of the Fireworks. ‘What happened?’
    ‘Nothing really. The horse bucked. He came off on his head. He’s hopeless.’
    The men came out, shrugging into their coats. ‘Where is he?’
    ‘Down by the sea-wall. Not far. On the track.’
    ‘We’ll take the Land Rover. Silly idiot!’
    ‘That horse is much too good for him,’ Julia said, slipping down from the Empress.
    King of the Fireworks, undisturbed, turned his handsome head and gave Julia an affectionate shove. She patted his neck and took him into his box to unsaddle, while Sandy and Leo took the Empress. Leo noted how naturally Julia took the best horse, the star.
    ‘It would be awful to lose Fireworks,’ she said to Sandy. ‘He’s so lovely. What if Sneerwell’s put off?’
    ‘He can’t be, or he won’t get his aunt’s money. I’m sure that’s a terrific incentive.’
    ‘A blow on the head might do him good.’
    When they had put the horses away they all went to meet the Land Rover as it came back up the track. Mrs Fielding came out and told them to go indoors, so they waited in the kitchen while Anthony Speerwell was unloaded. He wasn’t unconscious any longer, but he was extremely groggy and very cross. He refused the offer of a bed and staggered into Grandpa’s easy chair by the Aga.
    ‘Bally horse is useless!’ he muttered.
    Julia said in a clear voice, ‘No. It’s you that’s useless. The horse is too good for you.’
    This remark seemed to bring him round more quickly than offers of strong tea or brandy.
    ‘What do you know about it?’
    ‘Quite a lot, actually.’
    ‘Don’t start an argument, for goodness sake!’ Mary Fielding admonished her. ‘He needs to keep quiet. Just lie still, Anthony, and I’ll give your mother a ring. You’re in no fit state to drive yourself home.’
    He groaned, but did not demur. Josie and Glynn decided to depart, and Ian took the opportunity to disappear. The three girls sat at the table and Mary Fielding gave them the potatoes to peel. Grandpa came back from the village and demanded his chair.
    ‘You can’t have it, Dad. The young man’s had an accident. Sit at the table with the girls. You can read your
Sporting Life
and have a coffee.’
    ‘Who’s ’e then?’ Grandpa demanded fiercely of Sandy.
    Sandy explained in a soft voice and Grandpa said, ‘Who? Oh, them Speerwells. She that was Nellie Pointer before she married the builder. Should ’ave known better. Money’s not everything, I say.’
    ‘Oh, shut up, Grandpa,’ Sandy whispered. ‘Don’t be rude.’
    ‘Rude? I’m not rude!’ Grandpa trumpeted. ‘I ’aven’t said anything. Nellie Pointer’s mother went with one of them American soldiers – what did they call them? A GI. Just when the war was ending. A bomber pilot he were and Cissie – she were called Cissie, Nellie’s mother – she had a baby, that were Nellie, and folks said—’
    ‘
Grandpa!
’ Sandy could feel herself going scarlet. Leo had got the giggles.
    ‘What you laughing for, young lady?’ Grandpa demanded.
    ‘I’ve just thought of a joke.’
    ‘What’s your joke then?’
    ‘There were these pleasure boats on a lake, hired out by the hour, and the attendant shouted, “Your time’s up, number ninety-nine!” and the other attendant said, “We haven’t got a number ninety-nine,” so then the first attendant shouted, “Are you having trouble, number sixty-six?”’
    After Grandpa had worked it out he laughed so hard that he started his smoker’s cough and had to be taken out into the scullery to have his back thumped and his eyes wiped. The girls got on with the potatoes, behaving themselves, until Mrs Speerwell drew up outside in her Alfa-Romeo and Mary Fielding went to greet her.
    Mrs Speerwell looked about twenty-five. She was fabulously made