The Dark Horse by Rumer Godden Page B

Bunny,’ and Bunny sighed.
    Mother Morag was concerned because the canisters were filled to overflowing; in fact, they had to take extra ones because restaurants and hotels were crowded. ‘It’s welcome, of course, our people need it in colder weather,’ but she worried in case the extra load were too much for Solomon.
    It concerned Ted and Dark Invader not at all. They stayed in their own world of the stables, racecourse and the track on the verge of Lower Circular Road that lay between them; among the natives they mixed only with the Sadiqs, Alis, Ahmeds and Khokhils who attended to their wants – Ted still persisted with Mr Saddick, Mr Ally, Mr Ar-med, Mr Cockle. He was invariably kind to Mr Ching and Sir Jemadar and the riding boys. Only once did Dahlia tempt him into the city, and that was to buy a gauzy Indian scarf, patterned in gold for Annette Traherne, and a length of tussore silk to make Michael a summer coat, Christmas presents sent home by one of the travelling lads on the boat he should have caught. ‘Ted never forgets anyone,’ said John.
    Â 
    â€˜What
has
happened to the children?’ Mother Morag asked John when, as had become a habit, on Sunday mornings, he fetched them and Dahlia from Mass. ‘What
has
happened?’
    â€˜A little Englishman called Ted Mullins,’ said John.
    Mother Morag had picked out Dark Invader at once from her window and noticed he was ridden by a small white man; noted, too, his stillness in the saddle compared to the riding boys, and his quiet authority when the big horse cocked his ears in curiosity or tried to swerve or break out of his walk and, thinking of that, she said, ‘What works with animals, works with children too.’
    Ted had been scandalised by the bandar-log. ‘I never did,’ he could not help saying to John.
    â€˜I know.’ John sounded helpless – and sad, thought Ted. ‘Nobody seems to be able to do anything with them. Mrs Quillan’s wonderful with babies, but… ’
    Ted cleared his throat. ‘Seeing how with Mr Saddick and Mr Ally I’ve so little to do for the hoss… ’
    â€˜You would like to try your hand on my monkeys?’
    â€˜Well, sir, my wife was a school-teacher – miles above me, she was. She taught me – lots. So… if you and Mrs Quillan wouldn’t mind.’
    â€˜
Mind!
We would be infinitely obliged but I doubt if you can even catch them.’
    Ted did not say he had caught them already.
    They had been attracted first by Dark Invader. ‘We have never had a horse like that’ – Ted noticed the ‘we’. Now and again he swung one of them up on the Invader’s back, but that was a privilege and Ted knew how to bestow his privileges. Then came a mutual respect for each other’s riding; they had come to echo their father’s reverence for Ted, and Ted had watched them schooling. Certainly know their business, he thought, but off the ponies! ‘Turned nine and ten and don’t know your tables! Seven and you don’t know your alphabet! Disgraceful!’ he told them and, as with Dark Invader and countless other horses, the stricter he was with them, the more they adored him. ‘Now stand up and begin: twice five are ten: three fives are fifteen.’ ‘CAT: RAT: BAT… Go on. You can read that easy.’
    â€˜You’re sure they don’t come for nuts and bananas?’ said John.
    â€˜Nuts and bananas!’ Ted said scornfully. ‘That’s just about what they had, begging your pardon, sir,’ and, ‘Stand up. Keep still. This is a hanky, see. You blow your nose on
it
,
not on your fingers. Disgusting!’
    It had culminated on a Sunday morning when he had met Dahlia on the drive, wearing a linen suit, stockings, high-heeled shoes and a hat; she was carrying a bag, parasol and gloves and was accompanied by the children dressed as their usual selves.
    â€˜Where are