Shamilah of Sheoaks: Sheoaks Equestrian School, #4

By P. J. Harvey

Spike woke in the night to the crash of thunder. She turned her bedside light on and sat up. Seconds after, the rain started. It sounded like buckets of water were pouring on the roof. She waited for it to stop, or at least slow down, but it kept up. It was like being under a waterfall.

 

Sheoaks Equestrian School first gymkhana is under threat from massive storms. For it to have any hope of happening, Tristan, Spike, Hattie and Monika need to work hard at restoring the riding school to a working condition. But there are other worries as well: Mrs Cooper needs another riding school horse and Jack's dog Scotch is seriously ill. And what is wrong with Monika?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pam Harvey
• Release date: Jan 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9780648927266

Book preview

One

The sun blazed down ruthlessly, despite the earliness of the day, as it often did during the summer holidays. The working pupils and their four horses stood in the shade of a line of willow trees at the edge of the practice circle outside the stables. Except for the swish of Paddy’s long, thick tail as he swiped at flies, and the contented gabble of magpies in the trees above, Sheoaks Equestrian School was quiet.

‘I can’t do it,’ said Tristan suddenly, making Onyx flick his ears back. ‘His mane is too thick.’

‘It’s not as thick as Lily’s,’ said Hattie as the Welsh Mountain pony stomped her front leg impatiently. ‘Look at this one I’ve done.’

Tristan craned his neck to see the rosette Hattie had created out of Lily’s white mane. Instead of curling into a neatly plaited ball, it stood up like a clenched fist. ‘That’s terrible.’

‘Well, thanks, Tristan.’ Hattie pulled the rubber band from the rosette and let the plait fall against her pony’s neck. Lily shook her head and tried to pull away, but Hattie held her firmly.

‘Try making the plait thinner,’ said Spike. ‘See?’ She leaned over Shamilah’s wither to make the mare’s plaited mane come into view.

Hattie grunted. ‘But that’s alright for you, Spike. Sham’s mane is thin.’

‘Not thin. Fine.’

‘Okay. It’s fine. Not thick anyway. And Shamilah used to be a show horse, Mrs Cooper said, so she’s used to standing still and getting plaited. Not like Lily.’ Hattie turned around to Monika, who stood on a crate to tower over Paddy’s neck. ‘How are you going, Mon? Let’s face it: Paddy has the thickest mane of all.’

‘I’m good,’ said Monika.

‘Show us.’

Monika held a plait up. It was long but neatly done. She deftly rolled it up and tucked it into a rosette, fastening it with a small rubber band.

‘You’re going to end up with twenty rosettes,’ said Tristan. ‘Isn’t there a limit on how many you’re meant to have?’

Hattie pushed her sweaty hair away from her face. ‘Tristan, this is Sheoaks’ gymkhana, not the Royal Melbourne Show. It doesn’t matter how many rosettes we have or how we do them. It’s practice.’

‘Tell me we don’t have to do any of those other show ring things,’ said Spike. ‘You know, jackets and wigs and putting tail extensions on the horses.’

‘What?’ said Tristan. ‘Tail extensions?’

‘You need to read up on showing.’ Spike shook her head. ‘You can braid the tail or clip it, put makeup on their face, whiten their socks, put checkers on their rump. There’s a lot involved.’

‘It’s a gymkhana,’ Hattie said again. ‘We aren’t showing these horses. It’s a riding competition. And it’ll only be us and some pupils. It’s meant to be fun.’

‘I’m not having any fun.’ Tristan unravelled a plait and combed the section of Onyx’s black mane straight again. ‘If I do this before the gymkhana, I’ll have to be here at midnight to start.’

‘Well, you’ve got two weeks to practice before your early morning start.’ Spike finished Shamilah’s mane and stepped off the crate she’d been standing on. ‘There. What do you think?’

The chestnut mare’s mane was twisted into balls of varying shapes and sizes, unevenly spaced. Despite this, she looked lovely, her red-gold coat catching the sun through the dappled light. She arched her neck, which exaggerated her dished nose, and snorted.

Tristan laughed. ‘I don’t think Shamilah thinks much of it.’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Spike, shifting the crate around so she could stand next to the mare’s head. ‘She’s so beautiful nothing makes any difference. Isn’t that right, Monika?’

The blonde girl next to Paddy nodded. ‘That’s right.’

Hattie paused half-way through a plait. ‘Are you alright, Monika? You’re quiet.’

‘I’m okay.’ Monika frowned as she looped another plait into shape.

‘You’re always quiet, aren’t you, Mon?’ said Tristan, giving up on a rosette that stood straight up from the stockhorse’s neck like a knotted flag.

‘The opposite to you,’ grinned Spike.

Tristan leaned across Onyx’s neck to stare down at Spike. ‘You can talk.’

‘You’re squashing your horse.’

Tristan leaned back and checked Onyx. The black horse’s eyes were half-closed as he dozed. ‘He doesn’t mind.’

‘He doesn’t mind anything, really.’ Hattie stepped back as Lily scraped her hoof in the sand. ‘Lily likes this about as much as I do.’

‘Let’s make a pact,’ said Spike. ‘How about the only decorative thing we do to the horses on gymkhana day is when we have the costume class? Otherwise, let’s just wash them and brush out their manes and tails and not worry about these plait-things.’

Hattie put a hand on Lily’s neck to still her. ‘But won’t Mrs C want us to do them?’

‘Won’t I want you to do what?’

Hattie turned to the older woman carrying a box who’d come down the path from the house into the shade of the trees without the working pupils noticing. ‘Plaiting the horses up for the gymkhana.’

‘Not plaiting,’ said Tristan from behind Onyx’s neck. ‘Plaiting is okay. It’s these…things.’ He pushed up a lumpy rosette for Mrs Cooper to see.

‘Goodness gracious.’ The woman put the box on the ground, walked over to Onyx and put a hand on the horse’s back as she leaned to inspect Tristan’s work. ‘No, we don’t have to go this far. A groomed horse with clean tack will be fine.’

‘Do we have to wear jackets?’ said Spike. ‘Shirts and ties?’

‘No.’ Mrs Cooper pointed to her own shirt. ‘Lucky for us, we have our Sheoaks Equestrian School T-shirts, courtesy of our local designer, Tristan Davidson.’

Tristan dipped his head as if to concentrate on the next plait, but Spike saw his neck flush red. She grinned. ‘Yay, Tristan!’

‘And,’ said Mrs Cooper, going back to the box and picking it up, ‘we have these.’ She pulled out a long, blue felt ribbon embossed with ‘Sheoaks Equestrian School’ and a small rendition of a horse within a large horseshoe.

‘Oh, wow!’ said Spike, craning over Shamilah to see. ‘Our very own ribbons!’

‘Yes,’ said Mrs Cooper. ‘Blue for first, red for second, white for third and green for fourth.’ She put the ribbon back in the box and walked towards the stables, calling back over her shoulder. ‘Let me put these into the tack room and then I’ll come and check your plaits.’

Spike stroked Shamilah’s neck as she waited, imagining how beautiful the blue ribbon would be against her coppery coat.

Mrs Cooper returned and walked around the horses, stopping at Lily and retying one of Hattie’s rosettes to no effect. ‘If we were serious about showing, we’d probably pull their manes to make them thinner. Welshies look so gorgeous with their manes flowing, though, don’t you think?’

Hattie nodded enthusiastically. She unthreaded the plait she was doing and combed it out. ‘Mrs C, do you know how to tell how old a horse is by looking at their teeth?’

Mrs Cooper’s eyebrows shot up. ‘I’ve never been very good at it. Why do you ask? Have you been studying?’

It was Hattie’s turn to blush. ‘I’ve got this book on horse anatomy that Mum gave me. I’ve been reading it. Is that studying?’

Mrs Cooper laughed. ‘I expect it is. What does it say about teeth?’

‘They change shape as horses get older but it gets much harder to tell how old a horse is the older they get.’

‘We know how old these horses are.’ Mrs Cooper bent over Lily’s head and expertly pulled her lips up to inspect her teeth. ‘Lily’s ten. Can you see any signs that tell us that?’

‘You look at their bottom front teeth.’ Hattie peered into Lily’s mouth. ‘They’re sort of round by this age.’

‘Shamilah is twelve,’ said Spike, stepping around to the front of her horse and gently lifting her lip.

Hattie peered at the Arabian from where she stood next to Lily. ‘I can’t really see but from here they look older than that.’

Spike let Shamilah’s mouth go as the mare pulled away. ‘Good luck with finding out. She won’t stand still long enough.’

Mrs Cooper laughed at the cross look on Spike’s face. She patted Lily before going over to Monika’s ginger and white horse. Paddy turned to look at the woman with his wall eye and she rubbed his neck affectionately. ‘We don’t know exactly how old Paddy is.’ She drew Paddy’s lips open and he opened his mouth obligingly. ‘What do you think, Hattie?’

Hattie stepped over and ducked her head to see inside Paddy’s mouth. ‘Well, you can tell he’s older than Lily. See how his tooth is a different shape? It’s like a triangle. That probably makes him at least sixteen.’

‘That sounds about right. Carole knew he was at least fourteen.’ Mrs Cooper turned to Monika. ‘What do you think, Monika? When you ride him, does he seem sixteen to you?’

Monika shook her head. ‘I don’t know what a sixteen-year-old horse would be like. I just know he’s the best horse here.’

Hattie rolled her eyes. ‘You always say that, Mon. We know he’s great.’

Mrs Cooper ran her hand down Paddy’s side. ‘We were certainly lucky to get him. He’s been a boon to the new riders and the more experienced ones. I didn’t ever think we’d find a horse to replace Duke.’

Spike scowled. ‘Duke isn’t replaced.’

Mrs Cooper laughed. ‘Sorry, Alexandria! Wrong word. Duke is irreplaceable, but we were lucky we found a steady horse like Paddy to be the newest riding school horse for Sheoaks.’ She stepped away and brushed her hands on her trousers. ‘Now, talking about Duke, I was going to take some hay across the creek to the retired horses.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ said Spike quickly. ‘I can take the barrow, so you don’t hurt your hip. I’ll put Shamilah away now.’

‘That’s very kind of you, Alex.’ Mrs Cooper patted her leg. ‘My hip’s pretty good after its operation, but I suppose I do need to be careful. It’ll be the other one going next.’ She watched as Spike led Shamilah towards her paddock. ‘But why are you limping?’

Spike halted. ‘Am I? Oh, my legs are stiff. I’ve been running with Stephanie. You know, my sister? She’s home from uni and into long