I bunched up as I fell, in an instinctive crouch, fearing the flailing hooves. I felt the air whistle as she kicked out over my head but she missed by an inch and galloped away to the other side of the field. Da, cursing aloud, went after her, running past me without even a glance in my direction to see how I fared.

I sat up. My stepmother Zima looked at me without interest.

I got wearily to my feet. I was shaken but not hurt except for the bruises on my back where I had hit the ground. Da had hold of the reins and was whipping the poor animal around the head while she reared and screamed in protest. I watched stony-faced. You’d never catch me wasting sympathy on a horse which had thrown me. Or on anything else.

‘Get up,’ he said without looking around for me.

I walked up behind him and looked at the horse. She was a pretty enough animal, half New Forest, half some bigger breed. Dainty, with a bright bay-coloured coat which glowed in the sunlight. Her mane and tail were black, coarse and knotted now, but I would wash her before the buyer came. I saw that Da had whipped her near the eye and a piece of the delicate eyelid was bleeding slightly.

‘You fool,’ I said in cold disgust. ‘Now you’ve hurt her, and it’ll show when the buyer comes.’

‘Don’t you call me a fool, my girl,’ he said rounding on me, the whip still in his hands. ‘Another word out of you and you get a beating you won’t forget. I’ve had enough from you for one day. Now get up on that horse and stay on this time.’

I looked at him with the blank insolence which I knew drove him into mindless temper with me. I pushed the tangled mass of my copper-coloured hair away from my face and stared at him with my green eyes as inscrutable as a cat. I saw his hand tighten on the whip and I smiled at him, delighting in my power; even if it lasted for no more than this morning.

‘And who’d ride her then?’ I taunted. ‘I don’t see you getting up on an unbroke horse. And Zima couldn’t get on a donkey with a ladder against its side. There’s no one who can ride her but me. And I don’t choose to this morning. I’ll do it this afternoon.’

With that, I turned on my heel and walked away from him, swaying my hips in as close an imitation of my stepmother’s languorous slink as I could manage. Done by a skinny fifteen year old in a skirt which barely covered her calves it was far from sensual. But it spoke volumes of defiance to my da who let out a great bellow of rage and dropped the horse’s reins and came after me.

He spun me around and shook me until my hair fell over my face and I could hardly see his red angry face.

‘You’ll do as I order or I’ll throw you out!’ he said in utter rage. ‘You’ll do as I order or I’ll beat you as soon as the horse is sold. You’d better remember that I am as ready to beat you tomorrow night as I am today. I have a long memory for you.’

I shook my head to get the hair out of my eyes, and to clear my mind. I was only fifteen and I could not hold on to courage against Da when he started bullying me. My shoulders slumped and my face lost its arrogance. I knew he would remember this defiance if I did not surrender now. I knew that he would beat me – not only when the horse was sold, but again every time he remembered it.

‘All right,’ I said sullenly. ‘All right. I’ll ride her.’

Together we cornered her in the edge of the field and this time he held tighter on to the reins when I was on her back. I stayed on a little longer but again and again she threw me. By the time Dandy was home with a vague secretive smile and a rabbit stolen from someone else’s snare dangling from her hand, I was in my bunk covered with bruises, my head thudding with the pain of falling over and over again.

She brought me a plate of rabbit stew where I lay.

‘Come on out,’ she invited. ‘He’s all right, he’s drinking. And he’s got some beer for Zima too, so she’s all right. Come on out and we can go down to the river and swim. That’ll help your bruising.’

‘No,’ I said sullenly. ‘I’m going to sleep. I don’t want to come out and I don’t care whether he’s fair or foul. I hate him. I wish he was dead. And stupid Zima too. I’m staying here, and I’m going to sleep.’

Dandy stretched up so that she could reach me in the top bunk and nuzzled her face against my cheek. ‘Hurt bad?’ she asked softly.

‘Bad on the outside and bad inside,’ I said, my voice low. ‘I wish he was dead. I’ll kill him myself when I’m bigger.’

Dandy stroked my forehead with her cool dirty hand. ‘And I’ll help you,’ she said with a ripple of laughter in her voice. ‘The Ferenz family are nearby, they’re going down to the river to swim. Come too, Meridon!’

I sighed. ‘Not me,’ I said. ‘I’m too sore, and angry. Stay with me, Dandy.’

She brushed the bruise on my forehead with her lips. ‘Nay,’ she said sweetly. ‘I’m away with the Ferenz boys. I’ll be back at nightfall.’

I nodded. There was no keeping Dandy if she wanted to be out.

‘Will you have to ride tomorrow?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And the next day. The farmer’s coming for the horse on Sunday. She’s got to be ridable by then. But I pity his daughter!’

In the half-light of the caravan I saw Dandy’s white teeth gleam.

‘Is it a bad horse?’ she asked, a careless ripple of amusement in her voice.

‘It’s a pig,’ I said plainly. ‘I’ll be able to stay on it, but the little Miss Birthday Girl will likely break her neck the first time she tries to ride.’

We chuckled spitefully.

‘Don’t quarrel with him tomorrow,’ Dandy urged me. ‘It only makes him worse. And you’ll never win.’

‘I know,’ I said dully. ‘I know I’ll never win. But I can’t keep quiet like you. I can’t even go away like you do. I’ve never been able to. But as soon as I can, I’m going. As soon as I can see somewhere to go, I’m going.’

‘And I’ll come too,’ Dandy said, repeating a long-ago promise. ‘But don’t make him angry tomorrow. He said he’d beat you if you do.’

‘I’ll try not,’ I said with little hope, and handed my empty plate to her. Then I turned my face away from her, from the shady caravan and the twilit doorway. I turned my face to the curved wall at the side of my bunk and gathered the smelly pillow under my face. I shut my eyes tight and wished myself far away. Far away from the aches in my body and from the dread and fear in my mind. From my disgust at my father and my hatred of Zima. From my helpless impotent love for Dandy and my misery at my own hopeless, dirty, poverty-stricken existence.

I shut my eyes tight and thought of myself as the copper-headed daughter of the squire who owned Wide. I thought of the trees reflected in the waters of the trout river. I thought of the house and the roses growing so creamy and sweet in the gardens outside the house. As I drifted into sleep I willed myself to see the dining room with the fire flickering in the hearth and the pointy flames of the candles reflected in the great mahogany table, and the servants in livery bringing in dish after dish of food. My eternally hungry body ached at the thought of all those rich creamy dishes. But as I fell asleep, I was smiling.


The next day he was not bad from the drink so he was quicker to the horse’s head, and held her tighter. I stayed on for longer, and for at least two falls I landed on my feet, sliding off her to first one side and then the other, and avoiding that horrid nerve-jolting slump on to hard ground.

He nodded at me when we stopped for our dinner – the remains of the rabbit stew watered down as soup, and a hunk of old bread.

‘Will you be able to stay on her for long enough tomorrow?’

‘Yes,’ I said confidently. ‘Will we be moving off the next day?’

‘That same night!’ Da said carelessly. ‘I know that horse will never make a lady’s ride. She’s vicious.’

I held my peace. I knew well enough that she had been a good horse when we first had her. If she had been carefully and lovingly trained Da would have made a good sale to a Quality home. But he was only ever chasing a quick profit. He had seen a man who wanted a quiet ride for his little girl’s birthday, and next thing he was breaking from scratch a two-year-old wild pony. It was coarse stupidity – and it was that doltish chasing after tiny profits which angered me the most.

‘She’s not trained to side-saddle,’ was all I said.

‘No,’ said Da. ‘But if you wash your face and get Zima to plait your hair you can go astride and still look like a novice girl. If he sees you on her – and you mind not to come off – he’ll buy her.’

I nodded, and pulled a handful of grass to wipe out my bowl. I had sucked and spat out a scrap of gristle, and I tossed it to the scrawny lurcher tied under the wagon. He snapped at it and took it with him back into the shadow. The hot midday sun made red rings when I closed my eyelids and lay back on the mown grass to feel the heat.

‘Where d’we go next?’ I asked idly.

‘Salisbury,’ Da said without hesitation. ‘Lot of money to be made there. I’ll buy a couple of ponies on the way. There’s a fair in early September as well – that idle Zima and Dandy can do some work for once in their lives.’

‘No one poaches as well as Dandy,’ I said instantly.

‘She’ll get herself hanged,’ he said without gratitude and without concern. ‘She thinks all she has to do is to roll her black eyes at the keeper and he’ll take her home and give her sweetmeats. She won’t always get away with that as she gets older. He’ll have her, and if she refuses he’ll take her to the Justices.’

I sat up, instantly alert. ‘They’d send her to prison?’ I demanded.

Da laughed harshly. ‘They’d send us all to prison; aye, and to Australey if they could catch us. The gentry is against you, my girl. Every one of them, however fair-spoken, however kind-seeming. I’ve been the wrong side of the park walls all my life. I’ve seen them come and seen them go – and never a fair chance for travellers.’