Runaway by Marie-Louise Jensen Page A

her letter from , I thought.
    I picked up the heavy collar and began to soap it beside Ben.
    ‘You didn’t get notice then?’ said Ben, an impish grin on his face.
    ‘Not this time,’ I told him.
    ‘So what did he want to see you for? They don’t usually send for us lads. The grooms give us our orders.’
    ‘He just wanted to ask if I was settling in and give me instructions,’ I told him, a frown on my face.
    ‘Cleaning tack?’ said Ben, perplexed. ‘He called you in to the house to tell you to clean tack and muck out?’
    ‘No.’ It occurred to me Ben might be able to advise me. ‘I’m supposed to be gentling the new stallion,’ I said. ‘And learning to drive. But Bridges puts me to mucking out and tack cleaning.’
    Ben grimaced. ‘You’re junior, you got to do what he tells you.’
    I sighed. ‘I think so too. But what happens when Pitch is as wild as be-damned next time Mr Lawrence takes him out?’
    Ben grinned ruefully. ‘You get blamed,’ he admitted.
    ‘Tell me, Ben,’ I asked, ‘when are bath nights?’
    ‘Saturdays,’ said Ben, his face lighting up. ‘They draws us warm water and pours it in a tub in the room where we has our meals. The older men gets first wash, but then the three of us boys gets the water. Four now you’re here. We have a laugh splashing and making a mess. It’s grand.’
    He grinned. I tried to smile back, but I wouldn’t be able to take part in bath night any more than I could pee in the midden next to them.
    We were interrupted by voices in the yard. Ben peeped out, his hands covered in saddle soap. ‘It’s His Lordship and Mr Lawrence,’ he said. ‘Calling for riding horses. Now why can’t they send an order from the house before they come to the stables? ’Cos they don’t like waiting.’
    Steele called for Ben and two other grooms. Bridges was also out there. It seemed I wasn’t wanted, so I kept cleaning. I had finished the collar and began cleaning the bit. I became aware that a shadow had fallen over me. I jumped and looked up.
    ‘As my personal groom-in-training, I would have expected you to be saddling up my horse,’ he remarked. ‘Under Bridges’ supervision, of course. There must be other boys who can clean tack.’
    I met his eyes squarely and took a breath. ‘I think the feeling here is, I should be starting from the bottom and learning the job that way.’
    Lawrence looked back at me. ‘I see,’ he said curtly and left again.
    Did he really expect me to insist on precedence in a stable hierarchy where I was both new and extremely junior?
     
    The water in the bucket was ice cold and I had to brace myself as I dipped the rag into it and wrung it out. Shunning bath day was necessary to keep my secret, and this was the only alternative. First I dipped my head into the water, gasping, and rubbed at my short hair, soaping it, rinsing, and shuddering with cold. At least this might ease the itching I’d had over the past weeks. Next I scrubbed my face with the cold water. Then, checking I was still alone in the hayloft, I stripped to the waist and soaped and scrubbed myself, shivering violently. It was late and the night was cold.
    My top half clean, I dried myself on some rags and pulled on a fresh shirt. We could have our clothes laundered here; a great luxury. My spare shirt had been washed and had come back smelling of soap and rosemary. Next I repeated the washing process for my bottom half. The dirt on my feet was so ingrained that a bit of cold water made little impression. They needed a soak in warm soapy water. I sighed. And shivered again as I rubbed myself vigorously dry and pulled my filthy breeches back on. I had no spare pair.
    My teeth chattering, I crept back down into the stables, emptied the bucket onto the cobbles and entered Belle’s loose box. I crawled under the blanket in the corner, shivering.
    Belle moved restlessly in her box, looking out over her half-door and then turning back to me. Putting her head down, she