Read Online Twelve Days of Christmas by Trisha Ashley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Trisha Ashley
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wintry sun shining, and I had no idea whether I should put Lady in the paddock or not. Or perhaps just the cobbled yard, while I tried to sort out her bedding?
The shovel and wheelbarrow were easy to find – and so was the manure heap over the wall in the paddock. There were bales of straw and one or two of hay at the opposite end of the barn to Lady’s box, and more in a sort of half-loft overhead, with a rickety wooden ladder. Luckily I can tell straw from hay because guinea pigs, rabbits and chickens have all been previous charges of mine.
I was still debating what to do with Lady and her companion – especially her companion – when help arrived unexpectedly in the form of a large, elderly woman on a stocky brown cob. She hailed me from the other side of the gate, then dismounted and led her horse through, shutting it behind her. She was wearing a Burberry check headscarf tied pirate-fashion instead of a riding hat and a hugely-caped wax jacket, so she looked like a slightly eccentric highwayman.
‘Hello,’ she said in a deep, hearty voice, holding out her hand. ‘I’m Becca – Becca Martland, Noël’s sister. He told me you’d arrived, so I thought I’d ride this way and see how you were doing.’
We shook hands. She was by no means as tall as me (at six foot, not many women are!) but she made up for it in girth.
‘I’m very glad to meet you – especially since I was just about to muck out Lady and I wasn’t sure what to do with her while I did it,’ I confessed, seeing knowledgeable help was at hand. ‘Is it too cold to put her in the paddock, do you think?’
‘Not at all, Arabs are tough as old boots and she’ll go in the field shelter if it rains, or to get out of the wind. Have you taken her rug off and brushed her?’
‘No, though I did check that it was secure last night.’
‘We’ll do that first, then, because I don’t suppose anyone has for a couple of days. You go and open the gate to the paddock, while I tie Nutkin up in the barn out of this cold wind and fetch the brushes from the tackroom.’
We let Billy out while we groomed Lady – Becca assured me he never went far from her side. Indeed, he dithered in the open door until I gave him a quick shove and closed it behind him and then he hung about outside, bleating.
‘Lovely creature, Lady,’ Becca said, stripping off the rug and then handing me one of the two oval brushes with the concise instruction, ‘Firm strokes in the direction of the hair.’
‘But she’s terribly old, isn’t she? I was a bit worried about that when I read Mr Martland’s notes.’
‘Oh, twenty-five is nothing for an Arab! I’d look after her myself when Jude’s away, but it takes me all my time to look after one horse these days. And I’m not taking on the bleeding goat,’ she added. ‘Noël said you hadn’t had much experience with horses?’
‘No, to be honest, going to the riding school with my best friend when she had her pony phase was about it,’ I explained. ‘Mr Martland’s instructions are very detailed and I’m sure I can manage perfectly well, but it would be wonderful if I could call on you for anything that puzzled me? It might make Mr Martland feel better too – he rang last night and was fretting about whether I could cope.’
‘Oh, did he phone? I don’t suppose he said he was coming back for Christmas after all, did he?’ she asked hopefully, stopping her brisk brushing and staring at me across Lady’s snowy back.
‘No, I’m afraid not. Did you think he might change his mind?’
Her face fell. ‘Not really, it’s just that the Martlands have always celebrated Christmas together, here at Old Place. It doesn’t seem right to have the head of the household on the opposite side of the world.’
She put her brush down and showed me how to put the rug back on securely, which was simple enough with Lady, but I should imagine very difficult with a less cooperative horse!
‘Jude loves horses and he’s
The shovel and wheelbarrow were easy to find – and so was the manure heap over the wall in the paddock. There were bales of straw and one or two of hay at the opposite end of the barn to Lady’s box, and more in a sort of half-loft overhead, with a rickety wooden ladder. Luckily I can tell straw from hay because guinea pigs, rabbits and chickens have all been previous charges of mine.
I was still debating what to do with Lady and her companion – especially her companion – when help arrived unexpectedly in the form of a large, elderly woman on a stocky brown cob. She hailed me from the other side of the gate, then dismounted and led her horse through, shutting it behind her. She was wearing a Burberry check headscarf tied pirate-fashion instead of a riding hat and a hugely-caped wax jacket, so she looked like a slightly eccentric highwayman.
‘Hello,’ she said in a deep, hearty voice, holding out her hand. ‘I’m Becca – Becca Martland, Noël’s sister. He told me you’d arrived, so I thought I’d ride this way and see how you were doing.’
We shook hands. She was by no means as tall as me (at six foot, not many women are!) but she made up for it in girth.
‘I’m very glad to meet you – especially since I was just about to muck out Lady and I wasn’t sure what to do with her while I did it,’ I confessed, seeing knowledgeable help was at hand. ‘Is it too cold to put her in the paddock, do you think?’
‘Not at all, Arabs are tough as old boots and she’ll go in the field shelter if it rains, or to get out of the wind. Have you taken her rug off and brushed her?’
‘No, though I did check that it was secure last night.’
‘We’ll do that first, then, because I don’t suppose anyone has for a couple of days. You go and open the gate to the paddock, while I tie Nutkin up in the barn out of this cold wind and fetch the brushes from the tackroom.’
We let Billy out while we groomed Lady – Becca assured me he never went far from her side. Indeed, he dithered in the open door until I gave him a quick shove and closed it behind him and then he hung about outside, bleating.
‘Lovely creature, Lady,’ Becca said, stripping off the rug and then handing me one of the two oval brushes with the concise instruction, ‘Firm strokes in the direction of the hair.’
‘But she’s terribly old, isn’t she? I was a bit worried about that when I read Mr Martland’s notes.’
‘Oh, twenty-five is nothing for an Arab! I’d look after her myself when Jude’s away, but it takes me all my time to look after one horse these days. And I’m not taking on the bleeding goat,’ she added. ‘Noël said you hadn’t had much experience with horses?’
‘No, to be honest, going to the riding school with my best friend when she had her pony phase was about it,’ I explained. ‘Mr Martland’s instructions are very detailed and I’m sure I can manage perfectly well, but it would be wonderful if I could call on you for anything that puzzled me? It might make Mr Martland feel better too – he rang last night and was fretting about whether I could cope.’
‘Oh, did he phone? I don’t suppose he said he was coming back for Christmas after all, did he?’ she asked hopefully, stopping her brisk brushing and staring at me across Lady’s snowy back.
‘No, I’m afraid not. Did you think he might change his mind?’
Her face fell. ‘Not really, it’s just that the Martlands have always celebrated Christmas together, here at Old Place. It doesn’t seem right to have the head of the household on the opposite side of the world.’
She put her brush down and showed me how to put the rug back on securely, which was simple enough with Lady, but I should imagine very difficult with a less cooperative horse!
‘Jude loves horses and he’s
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