The Wild Boy and Queen Moon

The Wild Boy and Queen Moon by K M Peyton

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Authors: K M Peyton
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to bring home fallen timber for the sitting-room fire. She bought a portable television in a jumble sale and gave it to Ian. It had a ten-inch screen, but he didn’t complain. Grandpa and Gertie sat on in the kitchen, arguing and shouting at each other or else silently digesting soap opera and late-night sex discussions. Bill and Mary Fielding, divorced from the television, took up reading and tapestry respectively and found that they enjoyed their evenings more. Bill usually fell asleep, whatever he was doing.
    By the end of the month Polly had taught Tony – now that he had come to heel he was called Tony instead of Sneerwell – to get King of the Fireworks round the little jumping course in the schooling field. She had taught him to sit properly, use his hands properly, go forward with the horse and leave the horse’s head free over the jump. Because he was ambitious and reasonably talented, Tony learned fast. It was hard for him to accept Polly’s rather abrasive teaching in spite of his determination, for his natural arrogance kept bobbing up, but after two or three weeks they had come to terms with each other. Tony’s pride became a lever for Polly, her derision steeling him to ‘show her’.
    ‘It’s unbelievable – the improvement.’ Julia was impressed. ‘He really will be able to do a hunter trials in the spring at this rate. Perhaps I’ll take Faithful, too.’
    The competition fever was infectious: Sandy longed to have a pony that would do cross-country. George wasn’t a bad jumper but he stopped dead at anything he didn’t like the look of. He was very sensible. He hated water and ditches. And even his fastest gallop put him on the limit of ‘time allowed’. Besides which, Sandy’s heels came almost down to his knees.
    ‘I want a new pony,’ she whispered to her mother.
    ‘Bad luck, Sandy,’ said her mother gently. ‘No go, I’m afraid, at the moment.’
    As Uncle Arthur still wanted Empress of China exercised, both Sandy and Leo took it in turns to ride her. Fitter now, she was an easy ride and they both got to like the feel of a big horse. In spite of the fact that she was a funny-looking creature, she had good paces. But when she took a hold along the bottom pastures she could frighten them both with her thoroughbred power. They weighed nothing compared with Uncle Arthur and she thought she was a racehorse again with a little seven-stone lad astride. She dropped ten years and her dull old eyes glittered.
    ‘We’ve got our team,’ Polly exclaimed, watching. ‘Charlie’s Flying, King of the Fireworks, Empress of China and Faithful.’
    She carefully did not say who was to ride Empress of China.
    ‘What about Faithful being too small?’
    ‘Oh, we’ll get her shod with pads. Stand her on uneven ground when she’s measured. Something. It’s only an inch. No-one’ll object.’ Horse people, fierce competitors, were notorious at bending rules. ‘It’s not as if she’s got any form.’
    ‘She can certainly jump.’
    ‘She’s never done team-chasing.’
    Tony Speerwell, finding approbation, seemed to grow nicer. He was coming up to his nineteenth birthday and was going to have a party. He gave them all invitations.
    ‘Bring your boyfriends,’ he said kindly.
    They went scarlet.
    ‘We haven’t got any,’ said Leo bitterly, when they were alone. ‘Do you think Ian’d come if I asked him?’
    Sandy had been wondering about Duncan. But it was too embarrassing. She went into a dream about meeting Jonas and him saying how lovely she was and agreeing to take her to Speerwell’s party.
    ‘I don’t know,’ she said. It answered everything in her life. She felt deeply depressed. Since Gertie had come, home wasn’t as nice any more. Her mother had become irritable and over-pressed, keeping the peace between warring factions. Sometimes Gertie and Grandpa seemed to have taken over completely, turning a united front against the rest of them while they commandeered the fire and the

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