Book 7 – All Change at Blainstock Stables: Jill Goes Into Business

Chapter One – Leaving Porlock Vale

The rollercoaster Horsemasters course at Porlock Vale had come to an end. It had been a nonstop schedule of stable work, tack cleaning, riding and theory teaching. Added to this, like icing on the cake, one of our students had been abducted! I just happened to be in the right place at the right time and had got photographs of her rescue, struggling up the beach, like a bedraggled rat and had sent the story off to my contact Hetty, who had sold it to the American press. There was more to it than that, but you must read my previous book, Jill and the Horsemasters, for every fascinating detail. 

Happy chaos reigned on the morning that the students departed. Throwing our belongings into suitcases, milling around exchanging addresses, promising eternal friendship, and issuing invitations so that we could visit one another. I even went so far as to suggest that we have a big reunion at Blainstock Castle this time next year. Then, I went upstairs to fetch my luggage. Other students were doing last-minute packing, and I was overcome with a wave of sadness. Through all the ups and downs of our course, we had grown unaccountably close. Now, the gang was being disbanded. Even if we met up in the future, it would never be the same as it had been over the last few months.

I had a last look around the cheerful yellow bedroom, which I had shared with Gerry from Texas, and then dragged my bags down the stairs. I came upon Dieter Schunker, my favourite of all the students, standing by the public phone in the passageway. He had the expression of a stunned mullet.

“What’s up, Dieter?” I asked.

“That’s the riding school. They’ve told me that they’re shutting down over Christmas and won’t be opening again until the end of January. They said not to bother going back until then.”

“Oh!” I exclaimed. I knew what this meant for Dieter was an orphan, and he had no family to stay with. Of course, he might have friends in the village, near Frankfurt where he worked, but I felt so bad for him.

“You must come with me, up to Scotland for Christmas. We can have a brilliant time, and you can get to see something of the Scottish Highlands. We’ve got heaps of spare rooms in the castle. In the winter, we rattle around like tiny marbles in a big tin. I’m sure Mummy and Richard would be thrilled to meet you.”

He looked at me with his big brown eyes, glistening in the dim light of the hallway.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Absolutely. I’m going to scoop you up and carry you off. We’ll have a brilliant time,” I repeated. “It will be great to have some company; it’s a long drive. I’ve got to go to Essex first to pick up my mare. Then back to Oxfordshire, and then all the way to Scotland. I don’t suppose you can drive a horsebox?”

“Yes, I can. I can do lots of the driving if you like. Although hopefully, I won’t end up going up the wrong side of the road.”

“You’ve saved my life!” I declared.

So, the two of us set off for Essex, which was across the other side of England. 

“It is good to see the British countryside,” said Dieter in his strangely formal English.

He was a good driver, and I even slept, slumped in the passenger seat, my head resting on the glass window as the truck trundled along the roads. I was glad that I didn’t have to face the fearsome Tatiana de Vere alone when it came to reclaiming Copperplate.

We arrived in the late afternoon. The laneway that led to Tatiana’s stables was muddy and rutted.

“What type of horses does she have?” asked Dieter.

“It’s called ‘De Luxe Movie Horses’. They provide horses for films, exhibitions, displays of trick riding, things like that,” I replied.

“How did you find it?” he asked.

“They were doing a film up at the castle, and these people provided the horses. I managed to do a deal with Tatiana, including my mare’s foal. You wait until you see Skydiver. He is the most divine dressage horse! I agreed that my mare Copperplate come here so Tatiana could start working with her colt. Now her colt is weaned, it’s time to take her home. I’m glad you’re with me. Tatiana is scary!”

Dieter frowned at this. I could see he was perplexed. But then, he hadn’t met Tatiana!

This time I had an appointment and was not arriving unannounced as I had the first time I had visited these stables. On that occasion, my best friend, Ann, and I had been chased away by a tough, stable lad. Tatiana was standing in the centre of the stable yard, tapping her foot impatiently, her thin, pencilled eyebrows arched in such a way as to convey disdain and disapproval.

“Good afternoon, Tatiana,” I said, in a voice that was meant to be self-confident but came out squeaking.

“Hummmphh,” she replied.

“How is Copperplate?” I asked, getting straight to the matter at hand.

The stable lad led out my chestnut mare. First, I checked that it was actually her as Tatiana was not above trying to pass off an inferior horse as another when it came to doing a deal. I was gratified that Copperplate looked at me with affectionate recognition. She probably shared my opinion of the fearsome Tatiana! I walked up to her and stroked her neck. I was relieved to see that she was in good condition. Even if Tatiana didn’t treat other humans well, she did know how to look after horses. I squatted down and squinted up at her teats.

“How long since the colt has been weaned?” I asked.

“A week, so there won’t be any problems there. She’s just about lost her milk.”

“Jolly good,” I said in bracing tones.

Dieter, as ever tactful and good at gauging tricky situations, had gone around to the back of the horsebox and let down the ramp. I exchanged Tatiana’s headcollar for mine, and it was simply a matter of leading her up the ramp and getting out of here. At the last minute, she looked around anxiously and whinnied. A faint noise came from a loose box out the back.

“Go on, get going,” said Tatiana brusquely.

Dieter drove, and we got back down to the end of the rutted lane and turned onto the tarmac.

“Now to Chatton!” I said in relief.

“You have a home in Oxfordshire?” asked Dieter.

“Yes, it’s called Pool Cottage. I lived there as a child, and now Mummy has put it in my name. My best friend, Ann, lives there in one of the bedrooms and I still have my old room. We can set you up on a mattress in the living room. It’s quite comfortable and cosy,” I said.

“And you have stables and a field?” asked Dieter.

“Yes, two loose boxes, a small field and an orchard.”

“That is gut,” commented Dieter.

I looked at him for just a moment. He was speaking without reproach, simply as a matter of fact. I had to admit my position in life these days was very comfortable. Not only had Mummy given me the cottage, but I could also live at Blainstock Castle rent-free, with the full use of stables, staff, indoor arena and two cross-country courses. I had no idea that my life circumstances were about to become a matter for public debate!

As we drove, it began to snow. Feathery flakes whirled and flurried towards us, settling momentarily on the glass of the windscreen, their intricate geometric patterns visible for a magic fragment of time before they melted. The windscreen wipers swished hypnotically. I peered at the road in front of us as visibility reduced.

“Don’t worry, I’ve driven in snow before,” said Dieter, slowing down through the gears.

I watched the fields transformed into a wonderland of frosted white surfaces, clean, crisp and pure. I had a sense of other-worldliness, caught up in a landscape blessed with fairy dust. The heater in the horsebox worked well, and it was strange to sit in a fug and look out on the crisp, freezing cold. Powdery heavenly beauty.

Dieter pulled over when we spotted a telephone box. I jumped down to the ground, and the snow crunched beneath my feet. I dialled the number of Pool Cottage and told Ann that we were going to be arriving later that night. She assured me that she would set up the mattress for Dieter and wait up for us. She was excited at the prospect of seeing Copperplate again.

Travelling more slowly made it a longer journey, and I let Dieter do the driving. Finally, we arrived, and Ann was dancing around with delight. The colour of her bright red woolly cap and red jacket was accentuated by the frosty covering of white snow.

“Welcome to Pool Cottage!” she shouted as we drove in.

Dieter looked pleased at such an enthusiastic welcome.

We were soon huddling around the fire, drinking hot chocolate and our favourite cheese and tomato on toast. Ann was firing questions at us about what had happened on the Horsemasters course. I had written to her about the whole Willow and Jack situation. 

“How long are you staying before you head up to Scotland?” asked Ann, handing me a pile of letters that had arrived in the last few weeks.

“A few days, I’m not sure. It’s two weeks until Christmas, so we don’t need to get to Blainstock until Christmas Eve,” I replied.

One of the letters was from my literary agent, David, in London, suggesting that I might go in and see him as there was a rather serious matter to discuss. I frowned a little at this. What could he be talking about?

“We’ll have to go to London. It’s a chance for me to show you the sights,” I said to Dieter.

“That sounds fun. I’ll come too if you don’t mind,” said Ann.

“We’ll all go together. I’ll ring David tomorrow to make an appointment.”

The next morning, we rose late and breakfasted together. Dieter had been up earlier and walking around outside.

“That brown horse, who does he belong to?” he asked.

“That’s Black Comedy,” said Ann. “He’s mine. He used to belong to Jill. She won a point-to-point on him.”

“Was ist das, a point-to-point?” asked Dieter.

Ann explained it to him, and for good measure, included a lot of information about Henry Thurston, her boyfriend, the local vet, who also regularly rode in point-to-point races. Have you ever noticed how a woman with a boyfriend, or even just a love interest, finds an excuse to talk about them every two minutes?

“Let’s go riding today,” I said to Dieter. “You can have Black Comedy, and I’ll ride Copperplate, and we can go up to the riding school to see Wendy. It’s where I learned to ride.”

“Very gut,” said Dieter, who occasionally slipped back into German.

The horses didn’t seem fazed by the snow which crunched beneath their feet. It wasn’t deep enough for snowdrifts. The air was crisp and cold. 

I loved seeing Wendy, who kept me up to date with all the gossip about our band of friends. She fluttered her eyelashes a little at Dieter, which surprised me. I hadn’t really thought of him like that. He was a good and true friend. Later, I realised that it was probably Wendy who was responsible for the rumour that circulated that I was engaged to a German dressage master and was going to live in Frankfurt.  

She told us about Val Heath and Frank Stabley, who were both working in Virginia, in America. Luckily, she hadn’t heard that Frank and I had enjoyed a dinner date at the local pizza restaurant before he had left. I asked about Susan King, née Pyke, who had been married in the summer, but nothing had been heard about her since. She had got swallowed up into married life and now lived in a brand-new soulless house in a modern housing development on the outskirts of Rychester. The only other tidbit of news that I found interesting was that the young girl, Lavender, who now owned my first pony, Black Boy was coming up to the riding school regularly and had made friends with some of the local children. Beyond that, nothing much had changed in the lives of the inhabitants of Chatton.

The following day, Ann, Dieter and I caught the train to London. I had asked Dieter if there was anything that he particularly wanted to see. Surprisingly, he had said that he had always wanted to visit the British Library. I wasn’t sure that there was much to see there, but Ann promised to take him while I was meeting with David in Gower Street. Then we arranged to lunch in 

one of the trendy cafes in Kings Road. Inevitably, Ann wanted to shop at some of the groovy boutiques in that area. She had promised me she was going to find me a fantastic outfit which was to be my Christmas present. Between her and Mummy, they were determined to drag me into a new consciousness of fashion and instil in me a desire to improve my appearance.