long time I just stood and soaked up the heat, and gradually my stony hands and feet came back to life.
But nothing lasts for ever. In time the mare’s breathing returned to normal, andthe cold made itself felt in my bones again. I began to wonder when the gentleman might be coming back and when I might be setting eyes on my golden guinea. I had never seen one before, and I tried to imagine what I might do with it. I thought about hot pies and pigs’ trotters and apples and pease pudding. I thought about the marketplace where you could buy hand-me-down boots for a shilling and patched woollen blankets for sixpence. And I was thinking so hard about hot bread that I began to imagine I could smell it. And then I realized that I wasn’timagining it, after all. I really could smell it, and I could see it as well, in the hands of two young girls who were walking along the side of the road towards me.
C HAPTER T HREE
WHAT ARE YOU doing?’ asked the taller of the two. She had a pigtail, and her grey skirt had a black band along the bottom where the hem had been let down.
‘I’m holding this horse for a gentleman,’ I said.
‘What gentleman?’ she said.
‘A gentleman,’ I said, ‘who doesn’t choose to give his name to little girls.’
‘I’m bigger than you are,’ she said.
This was true, but it was also irrelevant, so I didn’t answer.
‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘there aren’t any gentlemen around here.’
I didn’t answer that, either. They stood and watched me. I watched the horse and didn’t look at them, though I couldn’t help stealing the occasional glance at their penny loaves. They had one each, and they were hardly even nibbled. I don’t mind telling you, sir, the smell made me feel faint with hunger.
‘Why is he wearing a coat?’ said the smaller girl, after a while. She had a bad squint and I couldn’t tell whether she was looking at me or at the horse. She might have been looking at both of us at the same time.
‘It’s not a he,’ I said. ‘And she’s wearing a coat because she’s the most valuable horsein England and she needs to be kept warm. When she’s at home in her stable, she wears a felt bonnet and a silk gown, and she eats plum duff and oranges.’
Squint giggled. ‘No she doesn’t.’
‘And figs,’ I added. ‘She’s particularly fond of figs.’
She was edging closer. If it hadn’t been for the horse, I could have snatched her penny loaf and run for it. I came up with another way of getting it.
‘In fact,’ I said, ‘this horse is so special that it’s costing me a shilling for every hour I’m allowed to hold her.’
I stroked the mare’s nose and she dropped her head to me again.
‘I don’t believe you,’ said Pigtail. ‘I never heard of anyone paying just to hold a muddy old horse.’
‘She may be muddy,’ I said, ‘but that doesn’t mean she isn’t special. Did you eversee a horse in a cloak before?’
Squint was right beside me now, reaching out timidly towards the mare’s nose. I elbowed her aside.
‘Look,’ I said, ‘if you’re really so keen to touch Her Grace, it might be arranged. But it will cost you.’
A minute later I was cramming the first of the penny loaves into my mouth and the other one into the poacher’s pocket stitched inside my patched old coat. The two girls swarmed over the mare, oohing and aahing, stroking her nose and her neck, putting little plaits into her mane and tail, and doing a really good job of straightening the cloak on her back so that it hung down exactly the same amount oneach side. The mare was very patient with all the attention, sir. I’d swear she knew what was going on, because she arched her neck and fluttered her eyelashes, and with all the grooming she was getting she actually began to look like royalty. But after a while I could see that she was starting to get restless, so as soon as I had swallowed the last of my loaf I told the girls that their time was up.
‘If the master
But nothing lasts for ever. In time the mare’s breathing returned to normal, andthe cold made itself felt in my bones again. I began to wonder when the gentleman might be coming back and when I might be setting eyes on my golden guinea. I had never seen one before, and I tried to imagine what I might do with it. I thought about hot pies and pigs’ trotters and apples and pease pudding. I thought about the marketplace where you could buy hand-me-down boots for a shilling and patched woollen blankets for sixpence. And I was thinking so hard about hot bread that I began to imagine I could smell it. And then I realized that I wasn’timagining it, after all. I really could smell it, and I could see it as well, in the hands of two young girls who were walking along the side of the road towards me.
C HAPTER T HREE
WHAT ARE YOU doing?’ asked the taller of the two. She had a pigtail, and her grey skirt had a black band along the bottom where the hem had been let down.
‘I’m holding this horse for a gentleman,’ I said.
‘What gentleman?’ she said.
‘A gentleman,’ I said, ‘who doesn’t choose to give his name to little girls.’
‘I’m bigger than you are,’ she said.
This was true, but it was also irrelevant, so I didn’t answer.
‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘there aren’t any gentlemen around here.’
I didn’t answer that, either. They stood and watched me. I watched the horse and didn’t look at them, though I couldn’t help stealing the occasional glance at their penny loaves. They had one each, and they were hardly even nibbled. I don’t mind telling you, sir, the smell made me feel faint with hunger.
‘Why is he wearing a coat?’ said the smaller girl, after a while. She had a bad squint and I couldn’t tell whether she was looking at me or at the horse. She might have been looking at both of us at the same time.
‘It’s not a he,’ I said. ‘And she’s wearing a coat because she’s the most valuable horsein England and she needs to be kept warm. When she’s at home in her stable, she wears a felt bonnet and a silk gown, and she eats plum duff and oranges.’
Squint giggled. ‘No she doesn’t.’
‘And figs,’ I added. ‘She’s particularly fond of figs.’
She was edging closer. If it hadn’t been for the horse, I could have snatched her penny loaf and run for it. I came up with another way of getting it.
‘In fact,’ I said, ‘this horse is so special that it’s costing me a shilling for every hour I’m allowed to hold her.’
I stroked the mare’s nose and she dropped her head to me again.
‘I don’t believe you,’ said Pigtail. ‘I never heard of anyone paying just to hold a muddy old horse.’
‘She may be muddy,’ I said, ‘but that doesn’t mean she isn’t special. Did you eversee a horse in a cloak before?’
Squint was right beside me now, reaching out timidly towards the mare’s nose. I elbowed her aside.
‘Look,’ I said, ‘if you’re really so keen to touch Her Grace, it might be arranged. But it will cost you.’
A minute later I was cramming the first of the penny loaves into my mouth and the other one into the poacher’s pocket stitched inside my patched old coat. The two girls swarmed over the mare, oohing and aahing, stroking her nose and her neck, putting little plaits into her mane and tail, and doing a really good job of straightening the cloak on her back so that it hung down exactly the same amount oneach side. The mare was very patient with all the attention, sir. I’d swear she knew what was going on, because she arched her neck and fluttered her eyelashes, and with all the grooming she was getting she actually began to look like royalty. But after a while I could see that she was starting to get restless, so as soon as I had swallowed the last of my loaf I told the girls that their time was up.
‘If the master
Similar Books
