Pony Ranch

Chapter thirteen.

Newer roads and highways had long bypassed the village, but at one time, the village inn must have been a regular stopping point in those days of long-distance coach travel. It was a sizeable building and was almost certainly an overnight stop rather than somewhere for the passengers to stretch their legs, use the primitive bathroom facilities, or grab a hasty meal while the horses were changed. A relic of a bye-gone era of travel now mostly forgotten or unknown in the UK.

People associated such transport chiefly with the overland stagecoaches of the American West, long over-romanticised in movies and books. In reality, though important, they lasted only for about forty years. They had their heyday in less than ten before the growing railway, or railroad network, as they would call it over there, relegated most of them to history. Likewise, another favourite, the famed pony-express mail service, lasted a bare eighteen months before going bankrupt due to the rapidly expanding railroads.

Yes, as you may recall, I grew up with a father who loved Western movies and the modern paperback equivalent of the ‘dime novel’ but also had a decent library of more historically accurate literature, which I’d read as a child. The Ind…Native Americans, as they are now called, were a particular interest of mine back then. Most of those books are still on the shelves in my farmhouse. Anyway, that explains my knowledge. Plus, I saw a documentary on TV a few weeks back about such transport on this side of the big pond.

Like most old buildings, the Inn had almost certainly been rebuilt and added to over the years, but the big central arch we drove through into the cobbled quadrangle beyond had the date 1677 embossed on one large piece of masonry. The archway was a standard feature of such buildings, for that’s why they were built in the first place: the expanding cross-country coach trade needed suitable accommodation and stabling. The attendant bars a useful adjunct as a secondary function for the local farm workers and itinerant foot travellers to squander their hard-earned wages.

The coaching trade in Britain had lasted far longer than in the US, as the forests that had covered the country were ruthlessly cut down for agriculture and other purposes, such as shipbuilding. What few dangerous animals still survived quickly vanished with their habitat and those outlaws and villains who’d made riding the roads hazardous. For over two hundred years, the coach and four, the four being the horses, was a regular sight hurtling along the British countryside, frequently along roads and bridges built by the Romans twelve hundred and more years before.

The remnants of that industry now survived as country hotels, often still known as the local Inn, such as the one we’d just driven into. It still served its original purpose: providing needy travellers with accommodation, food, and beverages. I explained all this to young Suzy, who’d queried the need for that huge archway as we waited for Mandy to return from reception in the cobbled courtyard now serving as a car park.

“No need to traipse in with me,” she said. We’re in the annexe. I asked them to put us there. The rooms are much smaller but far newer, plus all the bathrooms have decent showers. From what I remember, the plumbing in the old rooms is a bit ropey, and some rooms still share bathrooms. They can’t do much with the inside because it is a listed historical building.”

The three of us waited in the near-empty car park with our luggage, me delivering my little lecture on ‘Olde Worlde Coach Travel’ while looking around. There was the main building through which we’d driven and a new wing at right angles, well new in that it was probably only about two hundred years old rather than four. The other two sides of the enclosed space were taken up with a long, low, single-story building with a certain familiar look.

I’d been glancing at them while talking, then pointed, “Were they…?”

“Yep,” Sarah laughed before I could finish. “Kind of ironic considering what we’ve just left. They call it the annexe, but those are the old stables they restored and adapted about ten years ago. They needed the extra accommodation, history repeating itself, only this time for the Japanese coach tourist trade and similar.”

“I’d like to see them try and get a luxury coach through there.” Suzy nodded to the archway and then laughed, looking towards the other buildings. “Yeah, very apt. I wonder if they have fresh straw in the mattresses and an en-suite bucket in every room?”

“Bucket?” Mandy appeared. “What about a bucket? Here, one, two, and three, pick a card.” She sounded like a third-rate magician, offering three little cardboard folders containing our plastic room cards.

“Don’t put them near your phones”, Suzy warned. “These bloody things can be susceptible to outside electronic influences….mind you, that only tends to happen when you’re on the top floor of some sky-scrapper of a hotel and half a mile from reception when they need recoding!”

Mandy looked at her watch. “Right then, ladies. Let's get ourselves stalled, say ten minutes for brushing and grooming, then meet in the dining room for lunch. Through that door, straight down to reception and sharp left in the lobby. I’ve got a fancy for half a pint of cold lager if anyone’s there before me, but it's only a very cold one, mind you. The girl at reception recommended the salmon but said the full menu was available.”

*****

Technically, the afternoon was the previewing session for buyers or potential buyers, or so I’d been told, but that wasn’t why we were there other than a sense of curiosity on my part. Mandy and Sarah were old hands, so a two-legged equine livestock auction was nothing new, and Suzy had told me that she’d also attended a couple. Although buying wasn’t technically on the agenda, our mission was to indulge in a part exchange deal, trading Suzy’s tired old mare, Candyfloss, and a wad of cash for a relatively fresh and wild young ponyboy. 

My brief worries of the morning incident already forgotten as we drove back to Sir Jeffrey’s place after an excellent meal. None of us had sampled the salmon, but the food was delicious and reasonably priced. I noted that Mandy had paid by credit card, and if she had wads of cash about her person, then they were well hidden. On reflection, I decided that my glamorous friend wasn’t that sort of person, nor was the alternative world she lived in likely to be fuelled by such shady transactions.

“What’s up, what’s amusing you then?” Suzy inquired curiously.

“Nothing,” I shook my head and stopped grinning. I’d been trying to imagine a hoodie-clad Mandy transacting some sort of cash-in-hand deal with a dubious character down a dark alley. “Nope, nothing at all,” I said, for I couldn’t conjure up the image. It just didn’t work for someone like Mandy, so I opted for a more direct option to satisfy my curiosity.

“Bank transfer, of course,” Mandy supplied a moment later. “Most transactions anyway, and we are talking significant sums of money. Animals don’t come cheap, even old ones. That’s why I thought you ought to attend this sale. It will be a useful experience, plus a chance to meet a few more people. It will only be a small gathering, so that you won’t be overwhelmed. There might be the odd name attending, but I doubt it.”

“Names?” I queried.

“Celebs and the like” Sarah supplied. “You know, showbiz people, politicians, mega-rich businessmen and the like. Names and faces you’re familiar with from the media, even those reality TV people. We saw….”

“Scripted unreality TV!” Mandy exploded from beside her. “Overpainted, talentless, lip ballooned, bimbos and brainless, musclebound hunks both flashing all they’ve got for an audience of voyeuristic morons….which…oh, don’t get me started on that one. Things are getting a little too ridiculous when you see the likes of that painted little tart and her hunk of the moment looking at ponies! I mean, I ask you. My God, if ever a pair deserved to be in harness!”.

Sarah grinned and winked at the two of us in the back seat as her boss’s outburst subsided into low mutterings. I sensed our driver was making a conscious effort to hold back another rant. The grin grew broader as Mandy grumbled. “Bob likes them, can you believe that? He actually likes those ridiculous reality TV programs!”

“Probably fancies himself as another Donald Trump”, Suzy laughed.

“Don’t”, Mandy protested with a genuine shudder, pulling a face.

“Nearly there, Boss Lady,” Sarah pointed out, changing the subject and returning to me. “If you're open to some advice, look by all means today, but don’t get carried away, especially tomorrow once the bidding starts. Standard advice, I know, but you wouldn’t be the first to get over-excited, not to mention over-ambitious.”

“Best for the paupers among us to sit on their hands when the bidding starts”, Suzy laughed quickly, pulling her head back promptly as I swung a lazy hand at her. It wasn’t intended to connect with the cheeky young miss, but I wouldn’t have been over-worried if it had!

“Standard advice for any auction”, I noted. “Regardless of whether you're bidding on a wood-wormy old table or a two-legged equine.”

“It’s not like the drug trade or political backhanders for favours rendered!” Sarah must have been on my wavelength as she turned back in her seat, picking up the thread I’d started. “The transactions are perfectly legal and above board. No need in this business for attaché cases stuffed with bundles of large denomination used notes nor ditto with brown envelopes in the corridors of power as per Washington, Westminster and elsewhere for favour rendered or requested!”

“Quite right; after all, we’re very respectable people”, Mandy added pompously and then laughed. “I mean, who’d believe that our distinguished host for today and tomorrow, a very senior diplomat before he retired. A knight of the realm, an important advisor to the great and the good…. well”, she extemporised with a shrug. “To his political masters, whichever clowns were in power at the time! But who would believe that he keeps a stable full of fit young men, helpless, harnessed and always available for the attention of his carriage whip or cock, whenever he requires?”

“Only male ponies?”

“Yup, just like my Bob”, Mandy chuckled, “Young ones, only he’s not as fussy about their looks!”

“Those leather head coverings”, I guessed aloud.

“Bingo! You win today's grand prize,” Mandy laughed. “All boys, I expect that’s why young Charlie has got her beady little eye on Pandora. The girl couldn’t keep her hands off my fillies when she and her mother visited for a few days the other year. A whole new experience for the kid, wasn’t it, Sarah?”

“Yeah, and it wasn’t only her hands that she couldn’t keep off, as I recall!” Sarah grumbled.

“Juvenile enthusiasm”, Mandy giggled wickedly as she turned onto the track that led to our destination. “Don’t be such a grouse, and hey, what’s a few marks and bruises between friends!”

Sarah twisted around in her seat, her eyebrows going up as she mouthed ‘A few?’ at the two of us in the back.

“Bob just adores her”, Mandy added.

“Yeah, absolutely adorable”, Sarah agreed in a sarcastic tone. “That’s why he took me aside and told me not to let her anywhere near his ponyboys, not even Samson and Hercules!”

*****

Looking around, I noticed a lot more activity as we pulled up almost in the same spot and exited the vehicle. Several people were looking into the open stalls, and three pony carts stood near the other end of the stables where we’d stalled Pandora and Candyfloss. Two lightweight singletons and a slightly larger double one had two ponies harnessed between the shafts. The same two I’d seen earlier in the day, I wondered, looking towards the larger one.

“Mandy, old girl and Sarah, my dear!” It was a cheery greeting from the elderly guy who’d waved at us from that impressive flight of stone steps earlier. Close up, and despite the scraggly white beard and matching hair, I realised he wasn’t quite as old as I’d imagined nor all that ‘Santa Clausey’, not with that imposing hawk-like nose and piercing gaze. Clean-shaven, short-haired and clad in an imperial mantle, I could envisage him on the floor of the Roman Senate plotting someone’s downfall. Even with the white hair, beard and red suit, I couldn’t see any kid willingly wanting to climb on his lap in Santa’s grotto, no matter how big the sack of goodies was!

“Delighted to me, you madam, and you likewise, young lady”, he boomed, shaking hands with us as Mandy did the introductions. “Welcome to Carlton Manor, he half turned and waved a hand towards the buildings behind him. He didn’t see Suzy pulling a face and mouthing ‘ouch’ at me while wriggling her fingers to see if they still functioned. I knew what she meant; Sir Jeffrey possessed the firmest handshake I’d ever experienced.

“Mi casa su casa, ladies” He beamed and then frowned. “Oh, come now, basic Spanish and quite well known”.

“My house is yours, or similar”, Suzy translated quickly. “It’s the equivalent of making yourselves at home”.

“Excellent girl,” the Baronet said, flashing a toothy smile at her. “A fellow student of languages, perhaps?”

“Suzy shook her head regretfully. “Nope, a Mexican rancher used it in a western DVD I watched at her casa.” She nodded in my direction. IT and tech stuff is more my line.” She paused, looking at him a little warily, and then made her mind up. That security stuff you’ve got down by your main entrance gate is pretty, pretty….”

“Stone age”, he supplied with a deep chuckle, beckoning to the driver of an approaching pony carriage. “That’s what my granddaughter says, and she knows more about that sort of thing than me. Mind you, that doesn't extend to keeping the screen on her cell phone in one piece for five minutes or even keeping the wretched device in her pocket! She’s banned from taking any pony pictures because the damn thing spends almost as much time in hands that aren’t hers assuming it can be recovered or fixed!”

“Well, I was going to say a little dated”, Suzy offered politely. “Not exactly antique technology wise but definitely a little dated, not to say dubious looking condition wise….all that rust on the intercom box”.

“I know, I know” " he agreed, nodding vigorously, and then looked up at the couple seated on the carriage that had just halted alongside our group. “Come on, my dears, step down for a moment and come and say hello to some fellow guests, but I think you might know this lady already and perhaps Sarah too”.

My eyes swivelled from the pair of harnessed ponyboys to those holding reins and carriage whip, respectively. The former, faceless in their leather hooded anonymity save for a flash of teeth behind their bits and eyes hidden from view by protruding leather blinkers. Young, tall, fit looking and with muscled solid legs was my immediate impression. I did note that both were visibly trembling and since neither had worked up a sweat and looked perfectly fresh, I wondered why.

“No need to be shy; we’re all friends here, and I’m sure Draco and Neville won’t mind waiting for you”. He looked coldly at his two ponies, and I understood why they trembled. Something in that look chilled me, and I was a guest.

“Hello, Mandy, and yes, we know Sarah. We chatted earlier while looking at a pony down the other end. We were going to come and say hello, but Sarah said you were about to shoot off and get some lunch”.

The speaker was a rather plain-faced girl in her mid-twenties wearing a short, simple, but pretty gingham summer dress, a stylish,  wide-brimmed white hat and dainty white cotton wrist gloves. The hat perfectly set off her long honey-blonde hair, and the sparkling blue eyes and lovely smile made up for what she might lack in the beauty department. Her male partner was of a similar age and also rather average-looking, the exact opposite physique-wise of those splendid muscular ponyboys. He wasn’t helped by the numerous acne spots and scars around his chin and a pair of awful thick-framed eyeglasses that had ‘nerd’ written all over them. However, His broad smile was on par with his blonde-haired partner's as he held his hand out to me as Mandy did the usual introductions.

“Jane and Jerry, otherwise known in our circle as the Johnstons”, Mandy told us. “I stabled a ponyboy for them a couple of years ago for a few months. I’m sorry, I heard about Lukla”.

They both seemed a little diffident and rather shy, which was unusual, I thought, among these confident and assertive pony owner types, but at least I didn’t get my hand crushed this time, and they seemed a lovely couple. I’d noted that Jerry had climbed down first from the cart and then offered his arm to Jane to assist her. Very gentlemanly, I thought.

“Draco and Neville?” Sarah laughed, then gestured towards the stables. “Do I also sense the presence of a Harry and Ron nearby? Charlie's influence, I’ll bet.”

“Hah”, well, you’d lose that wager, my dear” Sir Jeffery chuckled and then paused to consider. “Well, I suppose…mmm, maybe in a roundabout oblique sort of way. I had to visit my old department to deliver a briefing on one of those perennial bad apples we all thought we were well rid of, but he popped up again out of nowhere and claimed his old presidency back. Anyway, that’s beside the point. Charlie was on her mid-term break, so I suggested a treat, maybe the Royal Ballet or the Opera House or something in one of the West End Theatres, but no. Her choice was Warner Brothers Harry Potter World. Not exactly my cup of tea, or so I thought, but she wouldn’t be dissuaded”.

He glanced over at the two ponyboys. “No choice in the matter. My granddaughter can be a very single-minded young lady. Takes after me in many ways!”

“Yeah, so we’ve noticed”, Mandy said, looking in the same direction.

“It was an interesting, indeed enjoyable visit, plus she insisted I read the first book so I’d know what it was all about. Actually, I listened to it in audio form, mostly while taking a spin around the grounds. A jolly good tale, I thought, very imaginative and after our visit, I went through the entire series and…

“Hence the names” Sarah supplied.

“Quite. But that’s history, and I’m being a poor host leaving things to Mandy. My apologies, Jane dear.”

“J, J and J”, Suzy chuckled. “That’s an easy one to remember”.

Jane laughed. “Well, keeping to the Potter theme, although in this case, he who can be named. My hubby here’s first name is Herbert, but he hates that. Herbert Jeremiah Johnston”.

“Incorrect, my dear”, Her husband amended. “I positively loath it, which is far worse than merely hating. Horrible, isn’t it, and I got off lightly. My parents were not at their best when it came to naming their offspring. I’ve got an older brother in Australia called Tarquin Quentin, known to everyone simply as TQ, plus a younger sister called…..well, never mind, nobody's called her that in years, including my esteemed mum and dad who did the dirty deed in the first place.”

“Lovely people, but they are definitely not going to get an invite to the naming committee if I start swelling”, Jane giggled, patting her midriff. “No way!”

“Oh, I think I’m going to like these two”, Suzy laughed and then frowned.

“Before your time,” Mandy cut in. You must have started working for me about a month or so after they collected Lukla. I had him for a few months while they sorted themselves out.”

“Lukla?” I queried; I’d heard that name before somewhere.

“Nepal” Jane helped me out. “We went there for our honeymoon, flew to Dubai, then to Kathmandu and joined our guided group almost immediately for another flight. We spent our first ten days as an official couple doing the Everest Base Camp trek. Landed at the tiny Tenzing-Hillary airport.”

“Don’t they call that the most dangerous one in the world?” Suzy asked.

“Yes,” Jerry took up the tale. “Extremely short runway, so short it was built at a steep angle to help slow aircraft when they land and ends in a sheer drop at the take-off end. Janes’s not the best of flyers anyway, and in a tiny twin-engine prop plane, mountains, turbulence and, well…..” he spread his hands wide and gave us a rueful smile.

“Don’t bore them, Honey” Jane admonished. “I survived, and the tea house in Lukla was the first proper night we spent together as a certified married couple. It was a bit primitive but far more comfortable than the preceding night spent far less romantically at thirty thousand plus feet, so it was a special place for us. Silly, I know, but it popped into my head when we needed to think of a name for him”.

“Strange sort of place to go”, Sir Jeffery mused. “Went to Paris for my honeymoon, very conventional. I don’t remember much about it now other than the handsome young bellboy who showed us to our suite. A good-looking young Moroccan lad wouldn’t have anything to do with me, no matter how many francs I offered. One of those keen religious types, I expect.”

“Well, you can’t expect to win them all,” Mandy consoled him. I know the feeling when something or someone takes your fancy. Wishful thinking!”

“Wishful!” Sir Jeffery looked at her for a long moment and then laughed. “Mandy, my dear, never play cards with me. I’m a bad loser. Ask Charlie; she hasn’t played a board game with me since she was about six!” he chuckled, then pointed towards the stable with a wagging finger. “Stall number seven, I recall, if the little grey cells are on form today. It took a while, plus a lot more francs, but two months later, I’d obtained my first North African pony. Silly boy, all he had to do was drop his pants and bend over for a quickie or two in the hotel linin store to earn himself several months' wages in one short session. Instead, he spurned that generous offer and earned himself a lifetime in harness…and what are you two young ladies doing?” He broke off, turning towards Suzy and Jane, who had their head close together, bending over their cell phones.

“YouTube,” Suzy replied, waving her cell phone towards him. Janes is giving me the link to their channel. They uploaded a series of videos on their Everest trekking trip. I kinda like the idea of doing that one day”.

“Really!” he managed to emphasise that one word as though it were a dozen words. “In my day, we took the odd obligatory honeymoon photo. I think there’s a framed one of me and the Memsahib in front of the Eiffel Tower in Charlie's bedroom room and a similar one in the drawing room” he glanced towards the waiting ponies. “I trust that your, mmmm,  channel is discrete?” he gave a slight cough and then added, “Sorry, shouldn’t have asked”.

“No problem, Sir, Jerry chuckled and waved towards the pony cart. “It’s Jane's equivalent of the holiday photo album. Why stick to boring your friends and neighbours when you can bore the entire world? The last thing she posted online was our rafting and camping holiday in Colorado. It might be interesting to see how many hits we’d get showing people our other little hobby, but I’m not sure it would comply with their guidelines, and I doubt it would endear us to the pony community as a whole either”.

“Not to mention those silly officious types who might disapprove of our simple pastime”, Mandy laughed. “So, what about Lukla?”

“Weak heart, at least we think so.” Jane shrugged. “You know we couldn’t exercise him properly at our modest little place”.

“Hardly appropriate”, Jerry interrupted. “We’ve got an elderly  neighbour on one side who complains about the cat digging up her garden if he so much as climbs on the fence, so who knows how the old bat would have reacted to a naked ponyboy trotting around the garden!”

“Probably given her a heart attack as well”, Jane giggled. “We have a huge garage, treble with extra space at the back, so we had that soundproofed and the doors fixed permanently shut. We used to take him to Clara’s place most weekends for a good runout, stretch his legs, but he came a bit unruly that last time”.

“Make that very unruly”, Jerry added. “He started acting up just as we upped the pace for the run home. Jane was driving, and he was all over the place; I don’t know what he was thinking, the silly animal. I had the whip and had to lay it on like billy-ho before he quietened down, and even then, he was about as sulky and uncooperative as he could be under the circumstances!”

“That happens occasionally”, Sarah noted. ” You can never fully trust a two-legged pony, no matter how docile and well-trained they might seem”.

“I suppose it was my fault, or partly my fault” Jane sighed. “Because of his silly tantrum, we were late leaving Clara’s, and then we got held up in traffic driving home and got back later than we’d intended. I was supposed to be attending a kiddie concert early that same evening. The daughter of an old school friend was performing, and Aunty Jane had promised to attend because mummy and daddy were in New York on business”.

“And you missed it?” Suzy sounded sorrowful.

“Yep, partly, anyway. The Au-pair and the nanny were there, but no Aunty Jane was alongside them in the front row. I made it for most of the performance and saw her in the chorus for the grand finale but missed her solo spot. Broke my promise and all because of a stupid, stubborn pony!” she finished with a petulant glance at the two patiently waiting ponyboys.

“Don’t take on so”, Jerry counselled, patting his wife’s arm. Water under the bridge now, and so far as what happened to Lukla, I was equally guilty. I should have….”

“No,” his wife shook her head vigorously and grabbed the wide brim of her elegant sun hat to keep it in place. “You were very sweet and left me to deal with our bad boy. You didn’t interfere,” she sighed and shrugged. “I’d said I’d deal with him later, and so I did when I got back from the school concert, only I was a little too enthusiastic with the whip that evening!”.

“Not really”, her husband disagreed. “You’d hardly started on him when you called me ”, Jerry said gently, patting his wife's arm again. “ I  was next door in the kitchen making a sandwich and dashed straight through the door into the garage. Lukla had collapsed on the whipping frame, and by the time we’d got all the straps undone and laid the poor thing on the floor, it was dead”.

“And I’d hardly started on him” Jane shrugged, repeating her husband's words, and she sounded more resentful than regretful.

“Bloody inconvenient, though” Jerry pulled a face and gestured with his hands. “What the hell do you do with a dead ponyboy in suburbia? Can’t exactly call the local undertaker or put him out with the trash?”

“Awkward, what!” Sir Jeffrey noted. “And with that nosy neighbour of yours, digging a hole in the back garden was probably not an option, eh! What did you do, call Clara? She was probably your best bet, being the nearest sizeable establishment?”

I felt Mandy’s hair brush my ear as she leaned sideways into me, whispering. “One of my rivals in the dressage arena and on the racing track. I can’t stand the woman and me, but she and Bob always get along fine for some reason. She’s got a huge organic farm that effectively camouflages her other non-agricultural interests!”

“Correct, sir. Clara was very kind and sent two of her people down to lend a hand and dispose of the carcass,” Jerry continued. “I gather that she’s not unfamiliar with these sort of unfortunate situations”.

“Hardly surprising”, Mandy grunted sourly in my ear. “I’ve seen how she treats her animals!” then I jumped slightly as Sir Jeffry brought his palms together in a loud crack.

“Well, as the lovely Sarah here just said. These things happen from time to time. No good crying over spilt milk, what? Now you’re here looking for an exciting new replacement, my dears. Time to move on, eh?”

“There is no such thing as a problem, merely a new opportunity for success”, Mandy offered. “That’s one of Bob’s wise sayings. Well, he says it’s a ‘wise’ saying”.

Sir Jeffrey chuckled. “In the service, we naturally took the opposite view. For every small problem that arises, you can be assured that it will probably turn into some bloody great big one, even a full-on war! Still,” he shrugged. Such is the nature of diplomacy when you're dealing with Johnny Foreigner. We always took the attitude that if only they’d all been British or, better still, English, foreign relations would have been a doddle,” he paused and looked at his wristwatch.

“Well, delightful as you all are, I can’t stand here chatting all day,” Sir Jeffrey said. “Things to do and all that before tomorrow, but then…” he paused and looked thoughtfully at the two ponyboys while absently rubbing at his crotch. “Talking of linin cupboard activities that reminded me of something I said I’d deal with. They tell me Boromir has been acting up again, and if there is one thing that unruly boy hates more than the whip, it’s the more intimate and penetrating one I inflict on him occasionally. I believe I’m in the the mood to give him a little taste of that right now” He chuckled and winked at us. “Or maybe not so little, eh! Adieu for now, good people” or rather au revoir”

With a backward wave of his hand, he strolled hands in cardigan pockets towards one of the nearby stalls, whistling tunelessly to himself and pausing occasionally to kick at a loose pebble. I noted that he’d swapped that dirty-looking yellow sweater he’d been wearing when we’d driven past the house earlier for the brown woollen cardigan, but equally ragged as it had just as many holes. What had Mandy said, one of the county's senior diplomats!

“A taste of what…oh, that!” Jane put a dainty white cotton gloved hand to her mouth, looking embarrassed.

“What branch of the Civil Service was he in?” Suzy quickly asked, presumably thinking similarly to me and kindly helping Jane.

“Foreign Office”, Mandy replied. “Or Foreign and Commonwealth Office to give it the full title, although I believe they changed it again recently. One of their top people for a number of years. He speaks umpteen different languages and would have been head honcho had he not continually weaselled out of important ambassadorial posts.” She gestured over to where the scruffy figure had disappeared into a stall. “Preferred to be home-based, could hardly take his little hobby with him to Timbuktu or wherever”.

“Probably why we’ve been involved in so many wars recently, " Sarah muttered, then laughed. “No, that’s a bit unfair. He’s always been the perfect gentleman whenever I’ve met him and a very obliging host even if he is a bit….”.

“Excentric”, Jerry laughed as he looked up to the sky. “Starting to get a bit cloudy, a touch of rain on the way and lovely as you look, I don’t think you’re dressed for a rain squall, sweetheart. So, if you excuse us, we’ll say au reviour as well before we get caught in it”.

“You take the reins, Honey, and I’ll take the whip. Like Sir Jeffrey, I feel in the mood to give them a little taste of something!” Jane waved a gloved hand clad in white frilly cotton lace at us. She took her husband's hand with the other one, and they headed towards the pony cart.

The four of us watched and then waved as the young couple boarded the cart and set off at a sprightly pace. Jane waved the whip in acknowledgement, but not before it had swung up and down several times to encourage the ponies with that not-so-little taste she’d mentioned across their unprotected rumps.

“Sweet and yet not so sweet”, I muttered to myself, thinking of Jane in her summer attire and charming, ready smile as that whip cracked repeatedly as the cart speeded up.

“What?” Mandy asked.

I shook my head. “Oh, nothing, forget it. Do you know there’s a lady, at least I think she’s a woman, over there waving like mad at us?”.

“Ah ha!” Mandy grunted. “Time to talk business. Suzy, dear, why don’t you fetch Candyfloss from her stall? Go with her, Sarah, we want to make sure she looks her best. Now it’s time to let the dog see the rabbit” She paused mid-stride and looked at me. “Why do people say that?”

“I’ve no idea. You tell me, you’re the one saying it after all!” I retorted as we walked towards that waving figure. “Google it if you’re that interested. Isn’t that young Charlie and…”

“My Pandora”, Mandy snorted indignantly as the two figures rounded the building and strolled casually towards us, the significantly smaller one in the rear waving as Mandy muttered, “Or rather the Pandora I am responsible for! Evidently, my little chat on the finer points of property ownership earlier fell on deaf ears. I’ll ask Bob”.

“Bob?” I looked from Charlie to her and back, somewhat puzzled. “Why Bob?”

“About letting the dog see the rabbit, silly. I probably got it from him in the first place or caught it, like you do a disease. He’s a walking encyclopaedia when it comes to silly old sayings and things like that! Now, young lady, I don’t recollect saying anything about exercising the animal, nor” she paused for effect, then wagged an accusing finger. “Using that crop of yours so freely on the poor thing!”

Charlie stopped, looking slightly surprised, then glanced at Pandora, whose harnessed firm body showed numerous fresh marks from that crop. I noticed it wasn’t the same one she had tucked in her belt earlier. The one she was holding was much longer and thinner towards the end but was still capped with a meaty leather flap that matched those vivid red fresh patches on Pandora's hide.

There were also livid red stripes, some already swelling purple and oozing blood where the skin had been broken, presumably by the thinner end of that nasty-looking crop. Mandy had sounded annoyed, but for my part, I’d found the sight of the two of them kind of cute and sexy. The mature ponygirl high stepping so erotically, so helpless and with those big udders bouncing at every step. The young girl was in total control a few feet behind, holding that lunge line in one hand and the long flexible crop in her other.

I say mature, but there weren’t that many years between Pony and youthful Mistress, but certainly enough, I thought, to make the scene that bit more charming to my eyes, plus no doubt more humiliating to the helpless woman on the wrong end of that line. You didn’t need a degree in psychology or whatever to read the animal's thoughts, for it was all there in Pandora’s damp eyes as she looked hopelessly towards the pair of us.

“Well, Missy?” Mandy demanded. “ It was towards those delicious orbs and the savage marks upon them that Mandy’s outraged finger was pointing.

Charlie's fresh young face assumed an expression of pure innocence. “But I thought we had an agreement,” she said plaintively. “I saw you talking to Gramps. Didn’t he say anything? He said he would talk to you, so I assumed it was all arranged. That's why I felt I could take her for a little walk around her new home.”

“No, Gramps, didn’t say a damn word” Mandy lowered her hand as her tone changed. “Senile decay or Altzeimers setting in, I expect and never assume anything, young lady. ASS-U-ME, that’s another one of Bob’s favourites,” she added, turning to me and then back to Charlie. “Am I to take it that he’s agreed to purchase….purchase these damaged goods?”

“Not really damaged” Charlie pursed her lips, looking critically at Pandora and then giggled. “Not yet anyway, and he said yes”, she paused. “Well, yes, after a bit of persuasion on my part, he agreed. I had to haggle though on your behalf. He said the starting price plus fifty per cent, given he wasn’t expecting many people to attend tomorrow.”

“And?” Mandy threw the girl a suspicious look.

Charlie giggled, and that look bounced harmlessly off her. “My second bestie at school comes from Casablanca, half French, half Moroccan. I’ve been there several times, and we love shopping in the old town, the Medina and market. Haggling is half the fun, and Grandaddy is far too impatient. Three and a half times the initial asking price, alright?”

“Mandy opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again and then nodded and smiled. “That will do nicely” then she laughed. “There’s a filly I’ve got my eye on that might be for sale soon; you wouldn’t care to come along as my negotiator, I suppose?”

“Depends on the commission”, Charlie shot back with a cheeky grin. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll walk Pandora over to the new training barn and let her stretch her legs on the treadmill for an hour or so. She’s a tad too flabby around the middle for my taste. I’ll remind him to sort out the financial details later. I think that big woman over there wants you; that’s the one they call Big Helga, right? Brunhilda, the horrible Gramps calls her!”

“Hmm, yes, that’s her: one down and one to go. Don’t forget to remind the old devil. I had to chase him for a fortnight once, and that’s considered very bad form in our circle,” Mandy said aside from me.

“You were lucky”, Charlie laughed. “It took the village butcher three months to get what he was owed the other year, and we had the electricity cut for twenty-four hours once because he was quibbling over the bill. I think that was a pretty neat bit of haggling on my part. Now come on, pony, walk on, pretty Pandy! Move and step nicely for me, step I said!”.

I couldn’t help wincing as that wicked-looking crop flicked up and down to leave another mark on the writhing pony's right udder and then again on the left, even as she endeavoured to comply with her new young Mistress’s commands. Mandy was evidently thinking along the same lines.

“Out of the fire and into the frying pan, a very hot frying pan, I think, for Pandora, still”, she suddenly chuckled. “There will be a lot of ponyboys around here likely to be a whole lot happier now that young madam has something else to distract her.”

“Bad?”

“Not the sweetest little angel”, Mandy chuckled. “But that’s Pandora’s problem, not ours. Come on, they’re bringing Candyfloss out now. Helga’s not the patient type; I’ve kept her waiting long enough.