Loving Spirit

British band.’
    ‘I don’t think so,’ Joe retorted. ‘Just use your earsand listen. I wish they’d do a gig up here, then you’d see how good they are.’
    ‘Not convinced. The Giraffes are loads better.’
    ‘The Giraffes? That band you played me last week? No way!’
    The conversation went on like this until Ellie heard Len walk to his room and go to bed. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was past eleven. Luke was still out in town.
    ‘I’d better go to bed,’ she said.
    Joe lifted his hand from where he was sitting. ‘See you in the morning.’
    Ellie smiled and slipped out of his room, making her way up to the next floor. There was a strange feeling inside her. She puzzled about it for a few moments.
    I feel … happy .
    As soon as she’d recognized it, the feeling faded to be replaced with an instant guilt. How could she feel happy when her parents were dead? But even though a part of Ellie wanted to deny it, she knew the happiness had been there, if only fleetingly, and she also knew that her parents would have wanted her to be happy again.
    For the first time since she’d arrived, when she went to bed that night she curled up under her duvet and didn’t cry.

Chapter Eight
    Len and Joe headed off to the winter horse show early in the morning. None of the horses and ponies Luke usually rode were entered for the show – Joe had explained to Ellie that showing campaigns were planned carefully so that each horse and pony wasn’t taken to too many shows in case they got bored and lost their sparkle in the ring. Along with Barney in the horsebox that day were Fizz and Bill, two ponies who Len produced for his client Veronica Armstrong.
    It was very peaceful on the yard without Len around. Ellie followed the instructions on the board and schooled Milly, before riding out on Gem and then riding Wisp, a young show hunter pony, in the school. Luke was riding at the same time but they pretty much ignored each other.
    Whenever Ellie could, she stopped by to see Spirit. He was still very nervous, pacing back and forwards in his stable anxiously, only stopping when Ellie was standing with him.
    ‘It’s OK,’ she told him at lunchtime. ‘Really it is. There’s no need to be scared now you’re here.’
    But though her presence soothed him, her words couldn’t seem to reach him.
    He’ll calm down soon , Ellie told herself. He just needs time .
    When Len drove the horsebox back that afternoon, it turned out that the team had had a good day. Barney had won his open working hunter pony class and the other two ponies had both been placed.
    ‘It’ll be your turn soon, lass,’ Len said to Ellie as she helped unload the ponies. His eyes narrowed as he gave her a speculative look. ‘Picasso’s entered for a show tomorrow in Preston which Joe will take him in but then, in a few weeks’ time, you can start competing him. There’s a big show mid-March with one of the first Royal International qualifiers. I’ll enter you for that.’
    Ellie nodded as if it was no big deal, but inside she felt a rush of excitement. So she would be going in shows. She’d only ever ridden Abbey in jumping classes, gymkhana games and a few Pony Club novice dressage tests before. Going in a working hunter pony class at a big show would be a completely different experience. She thought about the pictures she had seen in her uncle’s magazines of champions being presented with sashes and rosettes, and realizedthat could be her and Picasso in just a few weeks. I’m going to practise as much as I can , she decided.
    But things didn’t go according to plan. The next day Joe and Len set off in the horsebox, with Picasso plaited, groomed and rugged up. His tail bandage was on neatly and his travel boots were carefully fastened. However, half an hour later, the horsebox came back down the lane. Ellie could hear frantic kicking from inside, hooves slamming into wood with crashes and thuds.
    She went down to the car park, wondering what was going on. As soon as her uncle got out, she saw how angry he was. He marched round to the ramp and let it down quickly.
    ‘Stupid flamin’ pony!’ he said, going up the ramp and swinging the partition across. For a second Ellie saw Picasso inside, rug askew and tail bandage in a heap on the floor, and then the pony reared up, snapping the bale string he was tied to and shooting down the ramp, only just avoiding Len. Joe jumped down from the passenger side and made a grab for him, but