The Magic Spell by Linda Chapman Page A

beginning to look more as if it belonged to her. Her clothes were hanging up in the closet and she had unpacked her books and cuddly toys.
    Mrs Foster gently smoothed Lauren’s hair. ‘Time to get some sleep.’
    Suddenly, Lauren didn’t want to be left alone. This was the first night in their new home and it felt a bit strange. ‘Will you read me a story, Mum?’ she asked. Now that she was nine she didn’t usually have a bedtime story. But this was an unusual night.
    Her mum seemed to understand. ‘Of course, honey,’ she said. ‘Which one do you want?’ She looked at the bookshelf.
    ‘ The Little Pony ,’ Lauren said, snuggling down beneath the duvet. The Little Pony was her favourite story. Mrs Foster was a writer and she’d written the story especially for Lauren when Lauren was just three years old. It was about a little white pony who travelled the world trying to find a home. He had almost given up when, one day, he met a girl who became his friend. And from then on, they’d looked after each other.
    Her mum sat down on the bed and opened the book. As always, she started at the very first page. ‘To Lauren, my very own little girl,’ she read out softly. And then she started the story. ‘Once upon a time, there was a little white pony who wanted a home…’
    Lauren shut her eyes and smiled at the familiar, comforting words of the story. Halfway between wakefulness and sleep, plans for the next day went round in her head. They were going to a horse and pony sale! This time tomorrow , she thought, I’ll have a pony of my own .

Two
    S oon after breakfast, Lauren set off with her mother for the sale. They left Max and her father at home with Buddy.
    Even though it was raining, the parking area was already very busy when they arrived. Horses were being led about and the air was filled with shouts and whinnies. Loose dogs darted in between people’s legs. Stable-hands dashed around with grooming brushes and saddles.
    Lauren felt very excited. ‘Where do we go?’ she asked.
    Her mum pointed out a sign that said LIVESTOCK. ‘The horses and ponies will be over there. The bidding should have just started.’
    Lauren followed her mum through the crowds until they came to a large covered ring.
    A bay horse was being trotted around the ring by a stable-hand. A man standing on a platform at one end was calling out a price, raising his voice above the noise of the rain drumming on the roof. ‘One thousand, two hundred dollars I’m bid.
    Do I have any advance on one thousand, two hundred?’
    A woman near Lauren held up her hand.
    The man nodded at her. ‘One thousand, three hundred to the lady on my left. Any advance on one thousand, three hundred dollars?’
    Lauren turned to her mum. ‘So the person who offers the most money gets the horse?’
    Her mum nodded. ‘The auctioneer – that’s the man on the platform – keeps raising the price until no one else bids.’
    ‘Any advance on one thousand, three hundred?’ the auctioneer shouted. No one moved. He raised a small wooden hammer. ‘Going, going – gone!’ he said, bringing the hammer down on the table beside him with a bang. ‘Sold to the lady on my left.’
    The lady smiled and the horse was led out of the ring. A new horse – a big dapple-grey – was brought in by another stable-hand.
    ‘Come on, let’s go and look around,’ Mrs Foster said to Lauren. She led the way towards an enormous barn beside the ring. Lauren gasped when she looked inside. It was full of pens and nearly all had horses standing in them. There were bays and chestnuts and greys, each awaiting their turn in the ring. Lauren thought they all looked very big.
    Lauren’s mother had disappeared ahead of her through a gate, but Lauren didn’t want to walk too quickly; she didn’t want to miss a thing. Carefully she picked her way through the puddles underfoot and made her way through the crowd. She reached the gate at the same time as an elderly lady who was sheltering