Sixteen Horses by Greg Buchanan (e book reader pdf TXT) 📗

green, a wooden rectangle arched at the top in a light curve. It looked to Cooper like it had, at some point, been repainted badly and quickly. She could still see the drip smears, frozen throughout the numbers of a year.

ELTON RIDING SCHOOL AND LIVERY.

EST. 2001.

The stable curved back round from the path’s end, shielded by tall conifers and hedgerows, all bound by ivy running up and down and in and out, crested by the roofs of the buildings and the sheds. The road was the only entry point large enough for a van, and even then, not by much. The horses could have been led elsewhere first, perhaps. There was a public footpath cutting through the land, marked by a post.

The Eltons’ house stood across the fields. It was the closest thing to a hill Cooper had seen in this place, a light slope followed by a ridge, a set of steps leading down the miniature hillside. The house felt alien to her, somehow, standing against the sky when nothing else could.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

‘We woke up, we had breakfast. It was a . . . it was a normal morning.’ The stable owner tried to smile, but her eyes couldn’t follow. ‘We went out to feed them.’

Atop the red-brick fireplace, there was a single image – of a long-forgotten nephew, maybe – and a clock next to it, a silver clock with two bells that never rang. It ticked in the silence. Dust seemed to catch in the light beams from the window. The room was full of horses.

Little figurines, pictures, photos, place mats. Alec wondered who it was all for. Whether you wouldn’t grow sick of it, given enough time, given enough proximity. He thought perhaps this room was more for guests, for parents of students, rather than for those who lived here. It felt like it was supposed to give an impression. A takeaway box from an Indian restaurant, just lying in the hallway – that had been the only clue of a messy, human life.

They sat with a coffee table between them, the stable owner in her gown and fresh slippers on one sofa, Cooper and Alec bunched together on the other, three cups of tea steaming in the middle. It was barely big enough for the both of them.

‘They were empty,’ the stable owner said, her voice soft, almost broken. ‘The stable bays, I mean.’

‘And then?’ Alec asked, pen in hand. It was a fountain pen, a birthday present from his son.

‘And then we made our statement,’ she answered, picking up her tea. Her hand shook slightly as she did so, the saucer clinking against the white china cup.

‘What do you remember from Bonfire Night?’

‘We were in town.’ She sipped her tea. ‘We always go. Did you go?’

‘I was working, yes. At the right entrance for a while, then on patrol.’

‘Much trouble?’ she asked.

‘No, no.’ He smiled. ‘People were surprisingly well-behaved, all things considered. Some kids were acting out near the seafront, but – nothing major.’

‘We don’t have many nights like this.’ She nodded. ‘We get to see all our friends. People used to go to the pub more, used to do the farmer’s market on Sundays. It’s all stopping.’

‘They don’t do the farmer’s market any more?’ Alec frowned, and she nodded. ‘I liked going to that.’

‘They haven’t done it for a year.’ She smiled. ‘You can’t have liked it that much.’

‘So . . .’ He looked at the window, just briefly. He thought he’d seen movement, but there was nothing. He turned back. ‘So you were at the fireworks show. Are there people who will verify you being there?’

She nodded.

‘What happened earlier in the day? Anything out of the ordinary?’

‘No. Just, just lessons.’

‘For who?’

‘Kids,’ she said. ‘We don’t get many adults wanting them.’

‘You have a lovely home,’ Cooper said, and Louise smiled at that, surprised at the compliment, grateful for the escape it provided. More tea was poured for everyone. ‘How did you get into this line of work?’

‘The old owner moved,’ Louise said. ‘We couldn’t bear to see it shut down. It hadn’t been used like this for years—’

‘Used like how?’ Alec took his cup.

‘Like a riding school.’ There was a noise in the hall, a little slam as someone came in. The husband, probably. She continued. ‘We . . . we wanted to give the kids around here the same opportunities we had.’

‘You rode when you were younger?’ Cooper asked, and Louise nodded happily.

‘Charlie did. I was, well, I was scared.’

‘Of horses?’ Alec raised an eyebrow.

Louise hesitated. ‘No, the animals themselves, they’re lovely. It’s the riding I don’t like – they’re too tall for me, too strong. Moving on something that was alive, it . . .’ She shrugged, smiling. ‘I like helping the children, but it’s – it’s not for me. Though Charlie . . . you should have seen him, seventeen, trotting along to me in the field. We were friends before that. We grew up together and we liked each other and nothing more, but when he came to me out here, I saw that I loved him. And this place, it was . . . it . . .’ She seemed to struggle to find the right words. ‘It was important to us.’

‘How were the horses, before all this?’ Alec asked.

‘They were lovely.’ Louise came alive. ‘They—’

‘I mean their health. Were they healthy?’

She deflated a little. ‘We did our best.’

‘Customers ever complain?’

‘Sometimes,’ she said. She sighed. ‘But it’s . . . it’s something you have to get used to. I was, you know, I was a teacher before I retired, at the school. Right up until last year. You . . .’ She tried to smile. ‘I bet people aren’t happy with you, sometimes. People work for the public, they find a reason to be unhappy with us.’

‘You cared about them,’ Cooper said. ‘It’s why you dosed them.’

‘Dosed?’

‘You arranged for the horses to be sedated, didn’t you?’

Louise nodded, after a brief delay. ‘Yes. Yes, I did.’

‘What does that mean, exactly, Mrs Elton?’ Alec asked. ‘It knocked them out, or . . .?’

‘It made them docile,’ she answered. ‘They get scared, with fireworks, and . . . it’s – it’s safe.