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- Herausgeber: Pushkin Children's Books
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
'A heart-warming story of friendship, family and overcoming new challenges... with added ponies!'CATHY CASSIDY 'Beautifully written; sophisticated, sensitive and dealing with huge themes with such a lightness of touch' LAURA DOCKRILL 'Any horse lovers out there will adore this!' TAMSIN WINTER 'A sweet story of family, acceptance - and horses!' JO COTTERILL _______________ New home. New friendships. New rules. Thirteen-year-old Misty's life is about to be turned upside down. When her dad loses his job, they both have to move to Redbridge – far away from her home and her friends. This new town brings plenty of surprises – Misty wasn't expecting to live on an estate where ponies run free, and she certainly wasn't expecting to meet Dylan, a mysterious local boy who loves horses... Misty is determined to keep up appearances and hide her new life from her friends at all costs. But when the horses she has grown to love come under threat, will she have the courage to help save the place she now calls home?
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‘Beautifully written; sophisticated, sensitive and dealing with huge themes with such a lightness of touch’
laura dockrill
‘A sweet story of family, acceptance – and horses!’
jo cotterill
‘A sweet novel that deals with grief, unemployment, moving home, secrets, fear and standing up for what’s right in such a beautiful and honest way. Any horse lovers out there will adore this!’
tamsin winter
‘A heart-warming story of friendship, family and overcoming new challenges… with added ponies!’
cathy cassidy
For my dad, the best muck sweeper in town!
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
It was the first day of the winter term, and the sky was grey and blustery as Misty made her way towards the school gates. Her pace quickened as she approached, the anticipation of seeing her two closest friends after what had felt like, to her, a never-ending break, building with every step that she took.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t wait to tell them about all the exciting things she had done with her time off, it was in fact the exact opposite, she couldn’t wait to forget about it entirely. The holiday had dragged. Misty had spent most of it curled up on the sofa, scrolling mindlessly through channels on the TV. Her father had tried his best to fill the void left in her life since her mother had died the summer before Misty started secondary school, but his idea of a Christmas dinner consisted of a plate of sausage rolls and readymade roast potatoes that were on offer in ALDI.
When Misty’s mum was still alive, Christmases had bristled with excitement. A few weeks before the big day, her dad would bring home a real, six-foot-tall fir tree, which Misty and her mum would decorate carefully with the baubles they had collected; one for each year since Misty was born. Her dad would be in charge of the music, Slade and Paul McCartney’s cheesy festive tunes blasting out of the antiquated CD player that perched in the corner of the living room like a relic from a previous life. Misty hadn’t minded her dad’s retro music taste so much back then. Back when there were still three of them and everything was generally much easier to tolerate.
Misty could barely remember her first Christmas without her mother. That year had passed by in a numbing blur; there were no forced celebrations, just an empty space where the tree would normally be, an aching reminder of all they had lost. She wasn’t sure which had been worse, the complete absence of the past two years, forgetting about it altogether, or the fake festivities of this most recent Christmas. Either way, she couldn’t wait to see her friends and go back to the safety and security of the regular school routine.
As usual, despite living the nearest to school, Misty was the last of her friends to arrive. Ruby’s mum was a successful lawyer who always dropped off Ruby well before school started and Jasmine, Misty’s other best friend, just didn’t like being late for anything. Misty was by far the most disorganised of the trio, always joining them at the last minute, her fiery red hair streaming out behind her, papers escaping from the top of her rucksack where she had hastily stuffed them before leaving the house.
It hadn’t always been this way but without her mother to remind her to pack her school bag the night before, handing her a lunchbox on her way out the door and asking if she had her PE kit, it wasn’t so easy. Her dad was too busy trying to hold down a job, run the house and pay for everything on one salary, so Misty tried her best not to bother him with anything she considered too trivial. Secondary school had offered Misty a fresh start. It was a chance to make new friends in a place where she wasn’t defined by or reminded of her loss.
As she passed through the gates and entered the playground, Misty made her way over to her friends. She was relieved to find that they weren’t talking about the Christmas break at all. Ruby was clutching an A5 piece of paper tightly to her chest and gesturing animatedly in Jasmine’s direction, barely pausing to acknowledge Misty as she approached them. Ruby was the confident one, which meant the other Year Nine girls were secretly a little bit afraid of her. She had wild curly black hair and olive-toned skin.
‘Auditions start this week,’ Ruby exclaimed in excitement, without giving any additional context. ‘The first round are at lunchtime.’
‘Auditions for what?’ Misty asked, her brain struggling to click into gear.
‘For the school play, silly,’ Ruby replied, as if this was the densest question she had ever had the misfortune to answer. ‘It’s Romeo and Juliet this year and I’m going to play Juliet.’
‘If you get the part,’ Jasmine suggested timidly. She stood literally head and shoulders above all of the other girls in their year and spent most of her time trying and failing to blend into the background. Her white-blonde hair and elvish pale skin didn’t help much.
‘Of course I will. Look, I’ve been practising.’ Ruby mimed drawing a dagger over her throat in a very dramatic fashion.
‘I thought she poisoned herself?’ Misty asked distractedly.
‘She did but it didn’t work. That was Romeo,’ Ruby continued. ‘Then Juliet wakes up, finds him dead and stabs herself. It’s all very complicated, you see. And very romantic. Can you imagine wanting to kill yourself over Shaun in Year Eleven?’
‘I think she stabs herself in the side.’ Jasmine blushed as she tried to steer the conversation away from the mention of her crush. The girls had been studying the Shakespeare play in their English class the previous term.
‘I know,’ Ruby confirmed. ‘I just decided that doing it this way would have more impact. You could call it artistic license, I suppose.’
‘I’m sure you’ll get the part,’ Misty said firmly.
The sound of the bell cut through Ruby’s reply and the three girls headed off towards their form groups for registration. Misty and Jasmine were both in the same form, 9C, but Ruby was in 9E, much to her annoyance. Even Ruby couldn’t persuade the teachers to move her to the same form as her friends.
‘Good luck!’ Misty called as Ruby turned and marched off in the opposite direction, practising her lines as she went. ‘See you later.’
But Ruby didn’t reply for she was already busy, lost in her own world of plays and poetry, imagining what it would feel like to lose her imaginary lover to his own fatal hand.
‘How were the auditions?’ Misty asked when she met Ruby in the playground after school. Jasmine had already left for her after-school swimming lesson, but Misty had stayed behind knowing that Ruby would be raring to give her a full, blow-by-blow account of the proceedings.
‘Fine,’ Ruby replied hesitantly. ‘At least, I think I did enough to impress them.’
‘I’m sure you did.’
‘They told me I got through to the next round anyway, though I was kind of hoping they’d be so blown away by my performance they would offer me the part of Juliet on the spot.’
‘When is the next round?’ Usually, the main part in the school play went to one of the older pupils in the school but Misty was used to Ruby’s outlandish imaginings and knew it was usually best to go along with them. Besides, if anyone could defeat the Year Eleven girls, Ruby would be the one to do it.
‘Wednesday and we’ll find out who got what part on Friday. They’re going to put a list up on the noticeboard outside the Year Eleven common room.’
The girls turned at the sound of a roaring engine as a sleek four-by-four drew up alongside them. Ruby’s younger brother, Jason, was hanging out of the back window pulling faces at them as her mum shouted for Ruby to get in the car.
‘I’d better go,’ Ruby said glumly. ‘See you tomorrow.’
As Ruby opened the door on the front passenger side, Misty could see that her mum was busy taking a call on her hands-free and already indicating, impatient to be off as she tried to pull out into the busy after-school traffic.
‘Sorry, Misty,’ Ruby’s mum called out of the window. ‘I’d give you a lift home, but I’ve got to get back for a meeting.’
‘That’s ok, Sheila. Bye, Ruby. See you tomorrow,’ she called as the car edged its way slowly forward. She smiled wistfully as the vehicle retreated, missing the hustle and bustle of her friend’s family already.
*
As Misty walked up the hill towards home, she could see that all of the lights were on in the living room even though it was only four o’clock in the afternoon. The house glowed ominously in the cold, winter darkness like a lighthouse warning her to stay away from the door. From the top of the hill, you could almost make out the hidden blackness of the sea in the distance, and a sudden chill made her pause for a moment, before pushing on through the downward gusts of wind and upwards to where the house was waiting to greet her.
Misty pushed open the cast-iron gate and it squeaked in protest as she dislodged droplets of frozen water from its hinges. The path was overgrown with weeds, but the lawn was as immaculate as ever and there didn’t seem to be any other sign of a disturbance. The door stood closed before her, its bright red paint a cheerful contrast to the surrounding gloom. The windows were tightly shut to keep the cool evening air at bay. From the front garden, the living room looked undisturbed.
Misty opened the front door and stepped quietly into the tiled hallway. The first thing she noticed was her dad’s waterproof jacket, hanging on the coat rack in the hall. She was at once comforted by its familiar shape and smell and confused as to why it was there at all. It was far too early for her dad to be home from work, and he wouldn’t have gone out into the sharp, crisp air that morning without it. She shrugged off her own coat and pulled off her fur-lined boots and left them in an ungainly pile at the foot of the stairs.
She followed the beacon of bulbs that lit the way to the kitchen like a string of clues that had been left for her to follow. It was in the kitchen that she found her dad, a steaming mug of tea before him. He sat hunched over the old oak table, the opposite of his usual cheerful demeanour, his hands clasped tightly around the tea as if it would get up and walk away if he let go.
‘Dad?’ Misty must have said his name thousands if not millions of times before but this time it sounded more like a question than an answer. Her dad didn’t move, couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the milky film that was appearing on the top of his drink.
‘Dad?’ she called again, trying to keep the rising note of panic out of her voice. ‘Dad, is everything ok?’
It had just been Misty and her father for the past two and a half years. Things hadn’t always been easy between them, but they had eventually settled into a new routine that now felt like a comfy pair of slippers. They were moulded to each other, almost inseparable. This new silent man wasn’t anything like Misty’s real father. She didn’t recognise him at all.
Just when Misty had almost given up hope of him answering, her dad turned his gaze towards her. He looked slightly older and more wrinkled than he had that morning, but behind the worry in his eyes she could see a reassuring flicker of the dad she remembered. He must still be in there somewhere.
‘What’s happened? Please tell me what’s wrong?’
Her dad looked at her, confused for a moment as if he didn’t recognise that the thirteen-year-old girl stood before him was, in fact, his own daughter. His eyes sought out her own and, in that moment, he seemed to remember who he was, who she was.
‘Misty,’ he said, breaking out of his stupor as quickly as it had come upon him. ‘How was school today?’ His voice was still much the same as she remembered, though the lyrical vowels were perhaps a little hoarser sounding than normal.
‘School?’ Misty replied, as if she too had temporarily forgotten herself. ‘Fine. Fine, but—’
‘That’s good to hear.’ Dad got up and poured the untouched cup of tea down the sink as if nothing had happened. The brown liquid splashed untidily over the cool porcelain.
‘Dad, why are you home so early?’ Misty asked, hoping for a response.
Her father was usually a hive of bustling activity, asking her how her day was, if she needed any help with her homework, what she and her friends were up to that weekend, all whilst chopping onions for dinner, trying not to let them make him cry (the onions always won in the end), and putting on a wash at the same time. It was exhausting just watching him.
‘Misty, there’s something you should know.’
Misty suddenly felt exhaustion of an entirely different kind. It was the type that tiptoes up behind you unexpectedly and drains the life out of your very bones. It was the feeling of dread. It was quietly creeping up her spine and making all the hairs on her entire body stand fiercely to attention and her heart pound. It was preparing her for bad news.
‘They’ve let me go.’
For a second, Misty wondered what her father meant. Let him go where? She briefly thought it was a positive statement: They’ve let me go… on holiday… to the beach… away somewhere hot and sunny. But this was an old mining community, and almost everyone knew what it meant to simply be swept away like discarded rubbish and then entirely forgotten about. And now Misty’s father knew too, had been given first-hand experience of it.
‘Why?’ Misty asked, her mouth hanging open in shock. Her dad had worked for the same firm for over ten years, he was one of their top accountants. Whenever Misty met his boss, Mr Peters, he always told her that her dad was ‘one of Gold Star’s most valuable assets’ whilst chuckling merrily to himself and patting Misty on the head as if she was forever three years old.
‘The company’s been having some financial problems. They need to get rid of a few people. Those people include me,’ he said bitterly.
‘I’m sorry, Dad, I’m sure you’ll find another job soon.’
The clichés started pouring out of Misty without her having to think about it. Things she’d heard other people say, things she thought you were meant to say to someone who had just lost their work. It wasn’t as if he had momentarily misplaced it, she thought. That he could find it again, if only he looked hard enough.
‘I’m sure something will come up,’ she continued. ‘We’ll manage.’
‘Thanks, love.’
‘Perhaps I can find a weekend job?’ she offered half-heartedly. She didn’t suppose anyone would allow a thirteen-year-old to work for them. ‘I could wash cars for the neighbours or walk their dogs or something—’
‘I’m sure it won’t come to that, I’ll get something else sorted out,’ Dad interrupted her mid-flow, and she felt suddenly relieved and then, just as quickly, selfish for feeling that way after everything he had done for her.
‘We’ll get by, right enough.’
CHAPTER TWO
The next morning, Misty got herself up and ready for school as normal. As she dressed and brushed her teeth, the door to her father’s bedroom stayed firmly shut, and she didn’t stop to try and work out whether he was inside it or not. She tried not to think about how it had been after her mum had died, when her dad struggled to get out of bed for weeks. Instead, she crept silently down the carpeted stairs and into the kitchen below. The clean countertops sparkled brightly in the winter morning sunlight as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened the night before. Misty made herself a bowl of cereal and poured a glass of orange juice, chewing and swallowing as if on autopilot.
As soon as she left the house, the cold, sharp sea breeze hit her straight in the face and whipped her hair into a frenzy. By the time she arrived at the school gates, Misty had already decided that she wasn’t going to tell anyone what had happened to her father – not even Ruby and Jasmine. She told herself that her dad would find work soon and no one would ever need to know. She wasn’t going to lie to anyone directly, she was merely withholding the truth until everything was sorted and then it would be irrelevant anyway.
The playground was filled with small huddles of chatty teenage girls and overgrown boys kicking footballs back and forth to one another. Misty walked quickly towards the science block, sidestepping the speeding balls as she went, to where she usually met her friends. Having smoothed down her hair, her hands now grasped the straps of her backpack tightly as she marched across the crowded concrete. The sea of bodies parted to let her through like a wave pulling back from the shore.
‘Misty, over here!’ shouted Ruby.
‘Hi Ruby! Hi Jasmine!’ Misty called out to her friends.
‘Hi Misty,’ Jasmine replied, as considered and calm as ever, even amidst a sea of playground excitement.
‘Do you want to come to mine after school?’ Ruby cut straight to the chase as usual. ‘I need help practising for the final auditions tomorrow.’
Her friends were leaning against the wall of the ugly, nineteen seventies-style science building. Misty looked up at its identical set of rectangular windows, which seemed to stare down at her as she tried to think of an excuse.
‘I’m not sure I can tonight.’ Misty didn’t want to leave her dad on his own for too long and she knew if she went round to Ruby’s, her friends would easily spot that something was on her mind.
‘Oh, right.’ Ruby looked slightly taken aback. She was used to getting her own way and didn’t like it when things didn’t go to plan.
Jasmine watched the pair of them and Misty knew she was hoping there wasn’t going to be an argument. She hated it when they fell out.
‘I’ll help you, Ruby,’ Jasmine offered quietly, doing her best to smooth things over. ‘I’m sure you don’t need both of us to watch.’
‘Thanks, Jasmine. I promised Dad I’d help him with something.’ Misty decided it was best to stick as close to the truth as possible, her dad did need her after all. It was only a small, white lie. Hopefully Ruby was too busy thinking about her rehearsals for the audition and she wouldn’t see straight through it.
Ruby looked as though she was about to ask Misty what she was meant to be helping with but luckily, just as she opened her mouth to speak, the bell started ringing, signalling that it was time for registration.
‘I’ll see you later, Jasmine,’ Ruby called as she headed towards the older part of the school where the Art and English buildings were. Ruby had drama club at lunchtime so they wouldn’t even have a chance to see each other until the end of the day, which was probably for the best.
‘See you then!’ Jasmine replied.
‘I hope she’s not annoyed with me,’ Misty confessed once Ruby had rushed off. ‘You know what she can be like sometimes.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Jasmine replied conspiratorially. ‘She’ll get over it.’
The girls hurried inside. Once registration was over, Misty and Jasmine went their separate ways for their first lessons. Misty spent the rest of the day trying to act as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening whilst also trying to avoid bumping into either of her friends, which was far from normal and was bound to raise their suspicions. At breaktime she went straight to the library, on the pretence of having to look for a new book to read and she spent her lunchbreak catching up on the homework she hadn’t had time to complete the previous evening.
Once school was over, she left quickly, without waiting to say goodbye. Even as she rushed up the hill towards home, she could hear her phone vibrating busily in her coat pocket, probably with messages from Ruby and Jasmine asking why she had left in such a hurry. She had told them that she wasn’t free, she thought irritably, why couldn’t they just drop it?
This time when Misty arrived home, the house was still in darkness. She turned on the overhead hallway lights which cast a welcoming glow down the hallway as she walked towards the empty kitchen. Misty flicked the switch on the kettle with fingers still clumsy from cold and waited patiently as a comforting bubbling sound filled the silence.
‘Dad?’ she called from the bottom of the stairs, where she hovered hesitantly with two cups brimming with tea. She cocked her head slightly, her ear raised towards the ceiling like a spaniel eager for its owner’s command. When there was no response, she stepped tentatively up the stairs, pausing to set down one of the cups on the top of the banister whilst she tapped softly on her father’s closed bedroom door.
‘Come in,’ called a gruff voice and Misty pushed the door open wide. ‘Sorry, I lost track of the time.’
‘I’ve made tea,’ Misty said as she took in the chaos of the room. The bed was made, much to her relief, but it was covered in papers. Her dad was sitting in the corner of the room in front of his computer, a silhouette in the early evening gloom.
‘I’ve been doing job applications,’ he said determinedly, gesturing to the mess surrounding him. ‘Might as well start straightaway.’
‘Do you need any help?’ Misty wasn’t sure what use she would be, but she could definitely make a start on the clearing up.
‘No, no, that’s ok love, I’m almost done for today. Why don’t you go downstairs and watch telly? I’ll be down in a minute. I’ll make us something to eat.’
An hour later, Misty was huddled on the sofa reading a book when she heard the clatter of pots and pans coming from the kitchen. The radio was on, and she could hear her dad humming absentmindedly as he prepared dinner. Perhaps nothing will have to change after all? Misty thought. She snuggled down further beneath her blanket and started to doze contentedly, surrounded by the familiar sounds of her everyday routine. Her dad seemed certain that it wouldn’t take him very long to get a new job and Misty was reassured to see that he was approaching the search with his typical positivity.
Just as she was about to fall asleep, Misty’s phone buzzed aggressively, jolting her back into wakefulness. It was a video of Ruby rehearsing Juliet’s final soliloquy and Misty speedily sent a row of three thumbs-up emojis in reply. She was going to have to think of a convincing explanation for her absence when they asked; it wasn’t as if she could tell them she had been helping her dad with job applications all evening.
‘Dinner’s ready!’ Dad shouted from the kitchen.
‘Coming.’ Misty took one last glance at her phone and shoved it hurriedly down the back of the sofa cushions.
The kitchen smelled of a comforting mixture of Italian herbs and warm tomato sauce as Misty’s dad spooned large portions of pasta into two bowls that were set out on the table in front of him.
‘Thanks Dad, this looks great,’ Misty said as she sat down, her stomach rumbling in agreement. Although her dad’s cooking was basic and he mainly stuck to simple dishes like pasta sauces and stew, it generally tasted pretty good.
‘See, everything will be just fine,’ her dad answered, pouring himself a glass of wine and Misty some water from a glass jug that had once been one of her mother’s most prized possessions.
Misty smiled, a mouthful of delicious food making it impossible for her to respond. And in that tranquil moment, just an everyday dinner at the kitchen table, with her belly completely stuffed, Misty believed every word. She didn’t even stop for a moment to wonder if what her father was saying was true. It was impossible for her to imagine that things might be about to transform completely, irrevocably, and forever.
CHAPTER THREE
‘I got the part!’ Ruby screamed triumphantly. It was Friday morning breaktime and Misty had raced downstairs as soon as class was over to find out if the audition had been a success. Ruby had been so caught up in her preparation for the past couple of days that it had been easy enough for Misty to blend seamlessly into the background, but she knew her best friend would notice if she wasn’t there waiting to celebrate or commiserate with her.
‘I knew you could do it!’ Misty exclaimed, ignoring the looks of disdain some of the Year Eleven girls were throwing their way. ‘Ignore them, they’re just jealous.’
‘I can’t believe it.’ Misty needn’t have worried as Ruby continued obliviously. ‘Me! Juliet!’
‘Well done,’ Jasmine chimed in as her head appeared above the crowd that were gathered in front of the noticeboard. She scanned the list of names eagerly until she found Ruby’s. ‘Look, there you are! Sorry I’m late, I had to speak to Mrs McIver about my chemistry homework.’
‘That’s ok,’ Ruby replied. ‘I couldn’t have done it without your help… and my natural talent of course.’
‘Maybe we should get out of here?’ Misty suggested. Ruby’s lack of tact was continuing to draw annoyed glances from the group of Year Eleven girls who had just found out they had missed out on the part of Juliet.
‘I can’t believe I got Lady Capulet,’ one girl exclaimed, moodily tossing her long chestnut hair over her shoulder. ‘She must be at least a hundred years old. I’m far too young to play that part.’
‘Let’s go outside,’ Ruby agreed. ‘We’ve not got long until breaktime’s over and I want to know what you’ve been up to all week, Misty. You’ve been very quiet.’ She shot her an accusing glare.
‘Congratulations, Ruby,’ called Ryan Bremer, saving Misty from having to come up with a convincing response and causing Ruby to turn the colour of a ripe tomato. ‘See you in rehearsals on Monday.’
‘He’s playing Romeo,’ Ruby whispered, almost swooning as the girls walked away. ‘He’s so good-looking. I can’t believe I get to spend the whole term hanging out with him.’
‘You’re going to have so much fun,’ Jasmine replied. ‘I’m almost jealous.’
The three girls laughed knowing there was nothing Jasmine would hate more than being on stage in front of an enormous crowd. Even if Shaun Evans was playing Mercutio.
‘It’s certainly not for me,’ Misty agreed. ‘You couldn’t pay me to get up on that stage either.’
‘Hey—’ Ruby started to protest.
‘Don’t worry. You’ll be amazing. As you say, you’re a pro and we’ll be there cheering you on.’
‘From the sidelines if that’s ok?’ Jasmine interjected. ‘Just don’t ask us to join in.’
‘That’s fine. I would never dream of it,’ Ruby giggled, so swept up in her own excitement that she seemed to have completely forgotten about interrogating Misty. ‘See you after school?’
