Prize Problems (10 page)

You know what this means, don't you?” I said to Bean. We'd been riding for over half an hour and this was the first opportunity we'd had to ride together again following a canter, one near-fall from Amber, an emergency concerning Harry's girth which Ellie hadn't tightened and which had been uncharacteristically missed by Sharon (plenty of criticism from Annabelle at that!), and one dropped whip, courtesy of Zoe.

“Well yes, I think I do, but I don't know what you're going to say, so I could be thinking it means one thing and you could be thinking it means something else, but until you say what you're thinking we won't know whether we're thinking the same thing,” said Bean without drawing breath.

My head hurt. She'd lost me after about six words. She was back on Planet Bean—a place where no one could reach her.

“Oooo-kaaaay,” I said slowly. “How about if I tell you what I think it means?” One of us had to get this ball rolling and if left to Bean we might never get on with it. I just prayed we had both reached the same conclusion.

“I think that the disappearances are all connected,” I began. Bean nodded furiously in agreement, thank goodness. “And that whoever has stolen Major has also pocketed your gloves.”

More nodding. “Exactly!” Bean exclaimed. “But you're missing one vital thing.”

“I am?” I asked, a bit miffed that Bean might have thought of something I'd missed.

“Amber's silver charm!”

“You mean…?”

“Yup!” said Bean triumphantly. “Amber's charm must have been stolen, too!”

“That's terrible!” I said. I was finding it difficult to look as though we were just having a chat about our ponies or body brushes or gymkhanas. I mean, this was getting a bit out of hand. It was serious!

“But who did it?” Bean hissed.

“It's obvious who
didn't
do it!” I replied.

“It is?”

“Well, it isn't you, because you had your gloves stolen.”

“Right.”

“And it can't be Grace or Amber, because they're victims, too.”

“Yes, I see that,” said Bean, nodding again.

“So it can only be either Zoe or Ellie,” I said, feeling like Nancy Drew.

“Or you,” added Bean.

“Oh, thanks, I thought my innocence was a given!” I cried, giving her the evil eye.

“I know it wasn't you, obviously, but you have to agree that if we apply your theory logically then you come under suspicion, too,” Bean explained.

“I suppose so,” I agreed, “but it wasn't me.”

“No, I know. That's why I'm telling you and we're discussing it. But then, it could be one of the other victims. I mean, they might be trying to avert suspicion. Maybe, to cover their tracks, they just said they lost something, but really they've got their lost stuff stashed away in a safe place, together with the things they really did steal.”

I thought about that. It made sense. I was impressed by Bean's reasoning. “In that case,” I said, raising my eyebrows, “you're a suspect, too!”

“Oh, so I am! That sucks!”

“No one,” I said dramatically, “is above suspicion!”

“You've seen too many crime dramas,” said my friend.

“What are you two whispering about?” asked Zoe.

We both jumped about a mile in the air. I ask you, could we have looked any more guilty?

“Who's going to win the tidiest-stable competition,” I lied, hoping I wasn't going red.

Wrong thing to say. Zoe went off about how she was sure she was in the running, and that Amber didn't stand a chance and neither did Grace or Ellie because of their inexperience—had we seen the bed in Harry's stable, it was a disgrace—and she wasn't one to brag but Dot's stable was far and away cleaner than everyone else's stables—even mine and Bean's, even though mine was quite good. I gave her a forced smile in sarcastic gratitude, and she rode off, having said her piece.

“She's such a bore when it comes to anything to do with competitions,” sighed Bean, who couldn't be bothered with it all. “She's a trainee Annabelle.”

“So who do you think it is, then?” I whispered, desperate to get back to solving the crime wave.

“Who do I think is what?” asked Bean.

It only took a minor distraction to make Bean lose the thread of a conversation. I couldn't remind her about what we'd been talking about just then because we all had an awesome canter along some sandy tracks by a stream and then, when we pulled up at the end, Annabelle led the way down the bank and all the ponies enjoyed a paddle, putting their heads down to drink from the clear water. All except for Cherokee, that is, who stood on the bank snorting, despite Bean's efforts to make him go in.

“You'll never do it,” said Sharon, shaking her head. “No one ever has yet. He's too much of a wuss.”

“This is great fun, I LOVE water!” yelled Harry, pawing at the stream and splashing everyone.

“Stop that!” said Sorrel. “My mane goes frizzy when it's wet!”

“Don't let Dot-2-Dot stand still, Zoe, she likes to roll in water,” Annabelle warned. “Keep her moving and if she paws at the ground, ride her out immediately!”

“Oh, I hope she goes down, I'll laugh my socks off!” Amber cried, urging Sorrel in front of the Appaloosa, preventing Zoe from moving anywhere.

“Get out of the way, Amber!” shouted Zoe.

“No way, I want to see her drop you in the water!” laughed her sister.

“Amber, MOVE!” screamed Annabelle. But it was too late. Dot pawed at the water and sank to her knees, threatening to roll onto her side. Flapping her feet out of her stirrups in a panic, Zoe let out a piercing shriek, causing a mass evacuation of birds from the surrounding bushes. Shouting at Zoe to kick Dot on, Annabelle steered Tailor over toward her and gave Dot's spotty backside a loud thwack with her whip. Leaping up again, Dot veered away from Tailor and Zoe slid off, hitting the water with a splash and a gasp.

Amber screamed with laughter and everyone else couldn't help giggling. It was hysterical seeing Zoe sitting in the water spluttering and gasping with the shock of the cold water, Dot looking down at her as though she was crazy.

“That's not fair—I wanted to lie in the water!” Dot moaned. “How come it's all right for her to sit in it, but not me?”

“Because, Empty, dear, you'll break your saddle tree, you dummy!” explained Harry.

“I don't know why you'd want to sit in that water,” Cherokee called from the bank. “It's cold and wet and you could catch your death. You never know what's crawled in and died in it. And even fish poop you know. And ducks. You wouldn't catch me going anywhere near it! Water's teeming with germs.”

“D'you know what, Cherokee?” said Harry. “One day you're going to wake up and realize that you were so busy avoiding things all through your life that nothing actually happened during it and you missed it all. What a waste that will be!”

“Dung heaps!” retorted Cherokee.

“Double dung heaps to you!” replied Harry, yawning.

“I think we'll have our picnic here,” announced Annabelle, unaware of the raging equine argument. “It will give Zoe a chance to dry out.”

Riding out of the stream we all dismounted, ran up our stirrups and loosened the girths, tying the ponies by their harnesses to string Sharon wrapped round the trees. Sharon and Annabelle distributed the picnic from their saddlebags and backpacks: sausage rolls; chicken, cheese and pickle and egg salad sandwiches; chips; cereal bars; apples and bananas; and a slice of chocolate cream pie in plastic cartons for everyone. Of course, the apples found their way into the ponies' mouths, but we fell upon the rest and were soon munching away.

“Ew, what's that awful smell?” said Ellie, wrinkling up her nose and cautiously sniffing her sandwich.

“I can smell something, too,” I said, looking at the ground in case we'd sat in fox poop.

“Oh, it's you, Zoe, you reek!” shrieked Amber, waving her hand in front of her face.

Zoe sniffed her T-shirt. “Oh, it is me,” she wailed. “It's this stinky river water!”

Everyone moved away from smelly Zoe, which gave Bean and me the perfect excuse to sit ever-so-slightly apart from the others so we could continue our crime wave discussion.

“Is Grace going to tell Annabelle about Major?” I asked.

“I think she'll have to,” whispered Bean. “I mean, it's just not right, someone stealing her pony. It's just mean.”

“Is she sure she hasn't just lost him?” I asked. I don't know why—I mean, there was Bean's gloves and Amber's necklace to take into account so it was fairly obvious someone was helping themselves. But the thought of one of us stealing stuff was just too horrible to consider. I felt for Epona in my pocket again. What if someone took her? What would I do then? Shuddering, I knew I couldn't let her out of my sight, not for a second.

I looked around at my fellow vacationers. Who could possibly have stolen the items? Who hadn't had anything stolen?

Ellie? I couldn't take to Ellie. She just didn't do anything to make you like her, but that was no real basis for suspicion. You couldn't accuse someone just because you didn't like them much.

Zoe? She might have taken Amber's silver charm out of spite—there was certainly no love lost between the two sisters. But why would she take Bean's gloves and Grace's pony figurine as well?

Amber? Losing Silver could be a ploy to throw everyone off the scent; Amber was certainly clever enough to think of that, but I somehow couldn't picture Amber with Major—she'd been really nice to Grace. I didn't want it to be Amber, I liked her. I felt a pang of guilt. I wanted it to be Ellie because I didn't like her. That was hardly fair.

It wasn't Bean. It just wasn't.

Grace? No, not Grace, she was too upset about Major for her to be faking it. But then, I thought, why couldn't it be Grace? Her mother bullied her and there was no doubt she had hang-ups. Maybe it was her way of coping with it all, collecting things other people held valuable, or getting someone else into trouble by accusations.

I shuddered again.

“What's the matter, Pia?” I looked up to see Annabelle looking thoughtfully at me.

“Oh, nothing!” I replied, a bit too heartily. Keep this up, I thought to myself, and when Grace does the big reveal, I'll be the number one suspect. How great would that be? Luckily, Annabelle's attention was distracted by something else. Unluckily, it was Grace, who couldn't hold it any longer, and had started to cry.

Putting her arm around her, Annabelle steered Grace over to the shade of an oak tree, and we all pretended not to watch them having a chat. Poor Grace gulped a lot, dabbing at her eyes with a paper napkin and sucking her hair, and we could see Annabelle stroking the hair off her face and nodding.

“What's going on?” Sharon asked us. “Have you girls been horrible to her?”

We all shook our heads and I hoped I didn't look guilty. If I did, it was only because I knew why Grace was crying, not because I was the cause of it.

Eventually, they came back. Grace's eyes were red and sore and Annabelle held her arm protectively round her shoulders.

“I need to talk to you all,” Annabelle said in a serious tone.

I glanced at everyone. Did Ellie look shifty? Was that anxiety I could detect on Zoe's face? Did Amber look less confident than usual?

“Grace has mislaid her pony figurine,” Annabelle said carefully. “She last saw it in the yard this morning, and it may have fallen from her grooming kit. If anyone has seen it, or has it with them, perhaps you would let us know now because, as you can see, it means a lot to Grace and she is very upset at having lost it.”

Everyone looked at each other. No one spoke. No one put their hand in their pocket and pulled out Major with an apologetic smile. I exchanged confused glances with Bean. Major had been stolen, not lost, so why was Annabelle suggesting he'd been mislaid? And then, suddenly, I clicked. Making accusations about stealing probably wasn't the best thing to do. Better to give whoever had stolen Major the opportunity to return him without any unpleasantness. A bit like the tried-and-tested formula ‘I'm going to close my eyes and count to ten', to give whoever took the object the chance to return it, and we'll say no more about it—only Annabelle didn't know about Bean's missing gloves, and she still thought Amber had lost her necklace out riding.

After an awkward few, very silent, seconds, Annabelle spoke again. “We'll all help you to have a really good look for your figurine when we get back to the yard, Grace. I'm sure it will turn up there. There are plenty of places for it to hide!”

Another opportunity for whoever took Major to ‘find' him, I thought. Clever Annabelle.

We bridled the ponies and mounted in sober mood.

Bean asked Zoe whether she'd dried out. Zoe put her hand on her backside. “Not quite, I'm still damp, thanks to my loving sister!” she glowered at Amber, who stuck her tongue out at her as she gathered up Sorrel's reins.

“And you still reek!” Amber said.

Bean steered Cherokee over to Sprout's side. “Do you think Major will turn up?” she whispered to me.

“Don't know, he might,” I replied, checking my girth.

“I bet he doesn't,” Bean said, frowning. “Who knows what will go missing next?”

I turned Sprout so that no one could see me transfer Epona from my vest pocket to the zipped pocket in my jodhpurs, where I could feel her against my hip bone. She dug in a bit and I would probably get a bruise, but I wanted her close, where I could feel her. No one was going to steal Epona away from me, I decided. I'd die if I lost her now.

I've seen it! I know who's winning what!” Amber declared.

“You are so full of It,” her sister replied, looking bored. We were in the chill-out room, waiting for the ponies to digest their feed. It was almost time for our lesson.

“What are you two talking about?” asked Bean, flicking through one of the many pony books lying around.

“The clipboard. Annabelle's bible. I've seen it and you, Zoe, are not going to win anything. Not a thing. Ha! All that effort for nothing!”

“You're lying—that clipboard is practically welded to Annabelle's arm and when it's not, it's under lock and key. You've seen diddly-squat,” Zoe sneered, looking down her nose at her sister. “And you just don't get it, do you? I don't groom and clean tack so I can win things, I do it because I like to see Dot-2-Dot looking her best and wearing nice clean tack. I don't want to be a scruff-bag, like you.”

“Who is winning?” asked Grace.

“Oooh, can't say,” replied Amber, forming her mouth into an O shape and looking at Grace all wide-eyed. “Unless you pay me—I know you've got some Mounds bars in your bedside table, Grace. I might be able to let you know more if one of those was to come my way.”

“That's blackmail!” declared Bean.

“Is it? I thought it was extortion,” said Amber. “Anyway, I'm only joking.”

“I told you, she hasn't seen the clipboard,” yawned Zoe.

“Oh, I have, I was joking about the Mounds bars,” said Amber, grinning. “Although of course, if you wanted to share them out, Grace, I wouldn't say no. I'll help you take another look for Major if you like.”

At the mention of her missing figurine, Grace gulped.

“Oh, you are tactless, Amber,” Zoe said, putting her arm round Grace. “Come on Grace, I'll help you get Shadow ready for the lesson. Take no notice of Miss Foot-in-mouth over there.”

“What?” asked Amber, a picture of innocence. “I was trying to help.”

Bean and I hung back as the others drifted out to tack up again.

“I've been thinking,” said Bean in her best detective voice. “You're going to have to get the ponies involved.”

“What makes you think they know anything?” I asked.

“Because my gloves disappeared in the yard. Major went AWOL from the yard. One of the ponies may have seen something. Or…” Bean's eyebrows almost met over her nose as she screwed up her face in concentration. “…the thief may even have confided in her pony. Have you heard them talking about it?”

“No, I haven't. When did you figure all this out?” I said. Bean was constantly surprising me—she didn't get the most basic of concepts, living on Planet Bean for much of the time, but then she came out with all these theories. Clearly, she was on another level. Perhaps it was her artistic side—coming out in a different way to the rest of her family, and to normal people.

“I told you, I've been thinking,” she said. I wondered just how smart Bean would be if she did more of it. “Plus,” she added, looking around, “did you hear Amber say she knew Grace had Mounds bars in her bed-side cabinet?”

“Yes, I did!”

“How did she know that? Has she been snooping—does she know what everyone has in their bedside cabinet?” asked Bean.

I felt a shiver run up and down my spine. “Oh, we have to get this figured out. I'll ask Sprout,” I said. I felt a bit stupid—I should have thought about asking the ponies. I was just a bit preoccupied with worrying about how Drum was getting on with Cat. How dumb was I?

I wasted no time. I tacked up Sprout in record time and then, checking that everyone else was busy adjusting throatlashes, tightening girths and strapping hats to their heads or, in Zoe's case, standing in front of Dot-2-Dot and tweaking her noseband and browband until they were dead straight and parallel, I told Sprout I needed his help with something mega important.

“I know, I know, you want to win the jumping tomorrow,” he said with a snort.

“No, nothing like that—although I wouldn't say no, obviously. No, I need your help with some detective work.”

“Explain.”

So I did. I told him about Amber's silver charm and Bean's gloves and Grace's figurine, Major. I explained how upset Grace was, and how things could get totally out of hand if anything else went missing. “Because at the moment,” I told him, “only Major is officially stolen—even though Annabelle is playing it down. Bean hasn't kicked up about her gloves and Amber still thinks she lost her silver charm, but I don't think that's the case. I think everything has been taken by someone, as yet unknown. And that's where you and the other ponies come in,” I finished.

“You want me to rat on the thief.”

“Well, yes. Why wouldn't you? I mean, someone is taking things which are not theirs. Someone is upsetting the people who have had things taken. Someone,” I concluded dramatically, “needs to be stopped!”

Sprout said nothing.

I heard Annabelle shouting at us to hurry up. “Well?” I asked Sprout. “Do you know who the culprit is? Can you tell me so we can get this figured out and cheer up poor Grace? She's so upset about Major, and who knows what else might go missing! I mean, it's horrible to steal things.”

“Let me get back to you on that,” said my vacation pony.

“Get back to me?” I hissed. “Do you know who it is, or not?”

“I need to have a word,” he replied.

“Who with?”

“Look, it isn't as easy as all that. You sound very judgmental about the person who's taken these things,” Sprout said, shifting his weight from one front hoof to the other.

“Well, yes, I am. I mean, stealing! It just isn't right!”

“There may be underlying factors as yet unknown to you,” said Sprout. “Factors which make this case less about stealing and more about—well, I've said too much. Leave it with me and, as I say, I'll get back to you. It isn't up to me. Come on, let's get this lesson over with.”

I had to wait until the end of the lesson when we were waiting our turn to jump before I could tell Bean. I nudged Sprout up beside Cherokee who was grumbling about the flies. I knew Sprout could hear me, and hoped he'd pick up on the disappointment in my voice. And Bean's.

“What underlying factors?” she asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Dunno!”

“When is he getting back to you?”

“Dunno that either. When do you think you'll be getting back to me, Sprout?” I whispered.

“Come to the field later, I may be able to tell you more then,” Sprout said out of the corner of his mouth. I don't know why—unless he didn't want the other ponies to hear.

I would have relayed this back to Bean, only it was her turn to jump and I had to wait for her to return. And then it was my turn and we managed a clear round. I made a lot of Sprout, hoping it would help our case. I told Bean as we put our tack away.

“Do you think underlying factors could include some kind of illness?” asked Bean.

“Or maybe the person is insane. Insanity could be an underlying factor.”

“I don't get it,” said Bean. “Stealing is stealing. And I want my gloves back—the thought of someone else wearing them makes me crazy!”

“Mmmm. Let's hope the ponies decide to spill the beans. Sorry—that sounds funny 'cause of your name!”

“Oh ha, ha!” Bean replied, her voice heavy with sarcasm. “Like I haven't heard that one before.”

And then a thought whooshed into my head, a thought which hadn't occurred to me before, but could explain the ponies' reluctance to tell us anything. “Oh!” I said, staring into space as the thought developed, galloping on like a runaway horse.

“What?” asked Bean. “You look like you've swallowed a fly.”

“What if?” I began, trying to figure out my thoughts as I relayed them to Bean, “the thief isn't one of us?”

“Huh?”

“What if it's Annabelle. Or Sharon?”

Bean let out a low whistle. I wish I could do that. Everyone else seems to be able to whistle except me.

“But Sharon went to look for Amber's silver charm Oh. Oh, I see,” said Bean, frowning. “Maybe she found it. Maybe she already had it!”

“Your gloves were expensive. You'll be gone after this week and Sharon—or Annabelle, she wears good stuff—could wear them without arousing suspicion. Maybe that's why Sprout wouldn't tell us. I mean, Annabelle and Sharon are part of High Grove Farm.”

“We're forgetting Major,” said Bean. “Why would they steal Major? Can you imagine Annabelle or Sharon playing with toy ponies when we all go home?”

“They might like it for their niece, or little sister, I don't know.” The Major part didn't stack up, which annoyed me.

“We can't discount them,” Bean said. “We can't discount anyone.”

Of course, getting away from everyone else once we had turned the ponies out and cleaned tack proved impossible. We weren't supposed to amuse ourselves, but be part of the constant, full-on vacation package at High Grove Farm. First it was dinner—which we had no intention of missing. Then Annabelle and Sharon had a trivia night all planned.

“Form two teams,” Annabelle ordered, clipboard firmly in hand.

“Dibs on being with Bean!” yelled Amber. “She won the holiday by winning the quiz in
Pony
mag, so she's bound to be brilliant!”

“OK!” agreed Bean, winking at me as I had answered most of the questions. Grace joined Amber and Bean to form team A, and Zoe, Ellie and I made up team B. Questions ranged from mega easy—name three British native pony breeds, for example—to totally impossible. No one knew the name of Napoleon's horse, or the color of the horses used by the Canadian Mounted Police, or the name of the 14.2hh pony that won Great Britain a silver medal for show jumping in the 1968 Olympic Games (Marengo, black and Stroller, if you're interested). It was a fun quiz, though, and Team A won by only two points, giving Amber and Zoe something else to argue about. By the time the quiz had finished and we'd all had some cake and drinks it was dark outside and time for bed.

“What are we going to do?” I asked Bean as we went up the stairs.

“We'll have to sneak out when the others are asleep,” she said.

“What?”

“We have to keep our rendezvous with Sprout. It's the only way we'll find out. You're not scared, are you?”

“Er, yes, actually. Plus, the others might wake up!”

“We'll have to be totally like little mice. All quiet and tiptoe-y.”

Everyone seemed to take forever to go to sleep. Amber wanted to talk about the gymkhana tomorrow and Ellie insisted that she had a good chance of winning something. Eventually, one by one, the others drifted off. I dreaded hearing the sounds of crying—I thought Grace might stay awake worrying about Major—but she was soon breathing rhythmically, like everyone else. Except Zoe. She really did snore!

“Ready?” whispered Bean.

I wasn't. I was warm and cozy in bed.

Have you ever tried to creep around quietly when someone else is sleeping in the same room? Honestly, it's like everything makes extra-loud noises on purpose. Floorboards suddenly decide to creak, bedsprings ping, doors whine. Everything you do seems to make far more noise than it does in the daytime—because it's the only noise you can hear, no one else is talking or rustling or making awake, I'm-in-the-room noises. Even pulling on jodhpurs and a sweater seemed to make more noise than a box of monkeys—a box of monkeys with drums and whistles. I was sure we'd woken Zoe up at one point, but then after a couple of gurgles, she was off again, snoring.

Bean and I let ourselves out of the bedroom and on to the creaking wooden floorboards on the landing. Tip-toeing down the stairs in our bare feet, holding our breath and our boots, we reached the hallway and fumbled our way toward the back door.

Suddenly, something let out a loud, unearthly shriek and shot past me, brushing my legs. I froze, my heart stopping in total dread. It had to be a ghost. Some terrible spirit we'd disturbed—the spirit of High Grove Farm which had been wandering about all the time we'd been asleep upstairs, blissfully unaware that the place was haunted. Why on earth had we thought a séance would be fun? I mean, toying with the occult was such a totally bad,
bad
idea; of course these old places had ghosts, evil, vindictive spirits intent on…

“I think I just stood on Soot,” Bean whispered, cutting short my rambling mind. It wasn't enough to stop my heart thudding. Surely everyone in the house could hear that?

“Do you think,” I whispered, “you could look where you're putting your feet from now on? I almost died of fright.”

“Well, I would if I could see anything. It's pitch black in here, in case you hadn't noticed.”

“Serves Soot right,” I replied, too shaken to be charitable. “A black cat in the dark is just asking to be stepped on.”

We let ourselves out of the door, pulled on our jodhpur boots and headed off past the yard to the ponies' field. A huge silvery moon hung in the sky like a beacon. I had no idea a moon could be so bright—it threw shadows from trees and the yard like the sun does, only in shades of black, dark black and even darker black. Everything was quiet and still, the only sound we could hear was the faint rustling of leaves as the trees swayed in the night breeze. The air was cold and I shivered in my sweater. It wasn't enough to keep me warm in the night air.

Climbing over the field gate we approached the ponies, grouped together by the trough. I could make out Harry's cobby frame and Sorrel's slender build. In the gloom their colors were muted, as though filmed in black-and-white. I could feel my heart thudding again. Would the ponies tell us what we wanted to know? Who the thief was? I shivered. Now we were there, I wasn't sure I really wanted to know.