CHAPTER ONE
GOING HOME FROM school, the path led out of Safeway’s car park and across a wide stretch of rough ground towards the railway. It was spring and the ground was greening happily, bright with dandelions and —
‘Hey, look!’
Ros stopped in her tracks and Leo, trailing, walked into the back of her.
‘What?’
‘
Look!
’ Her voice quivered with glory. ‘Look!’ It squeaked, out of control.
Leo looked. Usually the field was empty, except perhaps for an old man walking his dog, but today a pony was grazing in it, held by a chain fastened to a tether. It was, even Leo could see, a very spectacular pony. It was black and white, a circus pony, very round and strong-looking. When it saw them staring, it lifted its head and surveyed them with a bold look from beneath a long, thick forelock. It took several paces towards them, as far as its tether would allow, and let out a soft knuckering sound of friendliness. At least, it sounded like friendliness.
‘Isn’t he gorgeous!’
Ros stood rooted in admiration. She was potty about ponies, Leo knew, just as he was potty about frogs. But the pony was, indeed, gorgeous. Although standing still, he seemed to exude vitality. His eyes shone. His coat shone. His round hooves, planted squarely, gleamed as if they had been rubbed with polish. His black bits shone like coal and his white bits like silver.
Ros was enchanted. She was nine, a tough, amiable girl whom the shy Leo was glad to have as a friend (and protector). He was happy to go along where she led and, if she thought the pony amazing, so would he.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Let’s talk to him.’
Ros approached, holding out her hand.
‘I wish I had an apple or something.’
Leo kept well behind.
The pony made his knuckering noise again and reached out to Ros. She went up close and the pony pushed at her arm quite strongly, and wobbled his lips at her hand. But the chain stopped him, fastened to a collar round his neck. Ros stroked his nose, a bit nervously at first, then more confidently. Leo kept out of range. The grass all round the pony was trampled down, as if he had walked about a lot . The trampling made a perfect circle round the tether pin.
‘Isn’t he beautiful!’ Ros glowed with joy, as if he were hers. ‘Isn’t he marvellous? Where’s he come from? Whose is he?’
‘He wasn’t here this morning,’ Leo said, not very cleverly.
The pony shoved and rubbed at Ros, but didn’t bite. He was strong and pushy, but kind (like Ros, Leo thought. They were a good match).
‘He needs moving,’ Ros said. ‘He’s squashed all his grass.’
‘His owner will come and do it,’ Leo said.
‘Yes. I’m going to come back after tea and bring him an apple, and perhaps his owner will be here then. We can find out what his name is.’
‘What would you call him, if he was yours?’
They walked on home, considering this question.
‘You could call him Jigsaw. Or Jester.’
Leo thought of his nature book, and the picture of a black face with a white stripe, like the pony’s.
‘I would call him Badger.’
Ros wished she’d thought of this.
‘Yes, that suits him.’
‘Shall we call him Badger then?’ Leo asked, pleased.
‘Yes. We’ll call him Badger.’ Ros was a bit cross because she hadn’t thought of it herself. But it was too good to turn down.
‘Are you coming back later?’
‘No, I’ve got a music lesson.’
‘Ugh!’ Ros made a disgusted but sympathetic noise. Leo was forced by his parents to do uplifting things, more than she was.
They crossed the railway by the footbridge. It had high metal fences on either side at the top so you couldn’t lean over and drop things on the trains. At the far side they had to cross a busy dual-carriageway road that ran alongside the railway. They had been well-trained to walk down to the automatic crossing, press the button and wait until the light turned green for them, and stopped the cars.
They had been doing the journey on
GOING HOME FROM school, the path led out of Safeway’s car park and across a wide stretch of rough ground towards the railway. It was spring and the ground was greening happily, bright with dandelions and —
‘Hey, look!’
Ros stopped in her tracks and Leo, trailing, walked into the back of her.
‘What?’
‘
Look!
’ Her voice quivered with glory. ‘Look!’ It squeaked, out of control.
Leo looked. Usually the field was empty, except perhaps for an old man walking his dog, but today a pony was grazing in it, held by a chain fastened to a tether. It was, even Leo could see, a very spectacular pony. It was black and white, a circus pony, very round and strong-looking. When it saw them staring, it lifted its head and surveyed them with a bold look from beneath a long, thick forelock. It took several paces towards them, as far as its tether would allow, and let out a soft knuckering sound of friendliness. At least, it sounded like friendliness.
‘Isn’t he gorgeous!’
Ros stood rooted in admiration. She was potty about ponies, Leo knew, just as he was potty about frogs. But the pony was, indeed, gorgeous. Although standing still, he seemed to exude vitality. His eyes shone. His coat shone. His round hooves, planted squarely, gleamed as if they had been rubbed with polish. His black bits shone like coal and his white bits like silver.
Ros was enchanted. She was nine, a tough, amiable girl whom the shy Leo was glad to have as a friend (and protector). He was happy to go along where she led and, if she thought the pony amazing, so would he.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Let’s talk to him.’
Ros approached, holding out her hand.
‘I wish I had an apple or something.’
Leo kept well behind.
The pony made his knuckering noise again and reached out to Ros. She went up close and the pony pushed at her arm quite strongly, and wobbled his lips at her hand. But the chain stopped him, fastened to a collar round his neck. Ros stroked his nose, a bit nervously at first, then more confidently. Leo kept out of range. The grass all round the pony was trampled down, as if he had walked about a lot . The trampling made a perfect circle round the tether pin.
‘Isn’t he beautiful!’ Ros glowed with joy, as if he were hers. ‘Isn’t he marvellous? Where’s he come from? Whose is he?’
‘He wasn’t here this morning,’ Leo said, not very cleverly.
The pony shoved and rubbed at Ros, but didn’t bite. He was strong and pushy, but kind (like Ros, Leo thought. They were a good match).
‘He needs moving,’ Ros said. ‘He’s squashed all his grass.’
‘His owner will come and do it,’ Leo said.
‘Yes. I’m going to come back after tea and bring him an apple, and perhaps his owner will be here then. We can find out what his name is.’
‘What would you call him, if he was yours?’
They walked on home, considering this question.
‘You could call him Jigsaw. Or Jester.’
Leo thought of his nature book, and the picture of a black face with a white stripe, like the pony’s.
‘I would call him Badger.’
Ros wished she’d thought of this.
‘Yes, that suits him.’
‘Shall we call him Badger then?’ Leo asked, pleased.
‘Yes. We’ll call him Badger.’ Ros was a bit cross because she hadn’t thought of it herself. But it was too good to turn down.
‘Are you coming back later?’
‘No, I’ve got a music lesson.’
‘Ugh!’ Ros made a disgusted but sympathetic noise. Leo was forced by his parents to do uplifting things, more than she was.
They crossed the railway by the footbridge. It had high metal fences on either side at the top so you couldn’t lean over and drop things on the trains. At the far side they had to cross a busy dual-carriageway road that ran alongside the railway. They had been well-trained to walk down to the automatic crossing, press the button and wait until the light turned green for them, and stopped the cars.
They had been doing the journey on
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