Loving Spirit

miss you, sweetie. Are you sure you’ll be OK without us?’
    Ellie knew she had grinned. ‘Course I will.’
    Now her throat constricted. I didn’t mean forever, Mum . Grief overwhelmed her. Why did it have to happen? Why? Oh, Mum. Dad. I want you back .
    Wrapping her arms round Spirit’s neck, Ellie sobbed. Not the hopeless tears she used to cry in the nights when she had first arrived at the farm – not the tears that had seeped silently down her cheeks like water overflowing from a too-full cup, but greatwracking sobs that came from deep down inside her, shaking her shoulders, contorting her face, making her gasp for breath.
    Eventually she became aware of Spirit breathing quietly on her back. Her sobs quietened until she was simply resting against him, her tears drying on her face. She felt exhausted, drained, like her mind had somehow been emptied.
    Spirit’s neck was solid under her fingers and she leant against him, drawing comfort. Her parents and her old life might have gone, but Spirit was real, warm and alive, and neither of them were alone any more now they had each other.

Chapter Eleven
    Over the next few weeks, Ellie was kept very busy on the yard. Joe had his exams coming up and was revising hard, and her uncle was intent on getting her ready to go in the first big spring show on Picasso. ‘It’ll be good to get a win under your belt early on in the season.’
    If I win , Ellie thought. But her uncle wasn’t the sort of person who dealt in ifs . She did all she could, schooling Picasso and hacking him out, grooming him until he shone. And she wasn’t just busy with Picasso; there were the other ponies to ride too, and the larger horses were all back in proper work now with their show season fast approaching. Ellie helped with exercising them. But no matter how tired she was, or how hard she had been working, she went to Spirit’s stable every night after supper to speak to him.
    Sometimes she learnt more about his life and past and other times she would talk to him, telling him about her mum and dad, showing him the picturesin her head – the times she’d been out with her dad on his vet rounds, riding with her mum, bedtime stories, even the times when she’d got into trouble and been told off or the times she’d argued with them. And when the memories made her cry Spirit would stand still, breathing gently on her skin.
    Equally, Ellie listened as he told her about his life. She worked out that he must have been at the trekking centre for four years because he showed her four cold winters passing. After he had fallen on his shoulder and been too lame to ride, he had been put out in a muddy field until he had been taken to the sale, lame, half-starved and neglected. Ellie felt his suffering as he showed her his past and she gave him all the love she could.
    Was your life always bad? she asked him one day.
    No .
    He showed her times when he had been at a large riding school and treated fairly, but then a blurry picture of a green field filled her mind. There was a white-grey mare and a middle-aged woman in it. A glow seemed to surround them, and as she looked at the picture Ellie felt deep love and deep loss. These were long-ago memories of soft hands, soft voices, laughter. Joyful at the time, but edged with sadness because they were gone.
    They were happy times for you , she thought to him. The best?
    Not the best .
    A picture of herself suddenly appeared in her mind. She saw herself as Spirit saw her, blonde hair coming out from under a woollen hat, jodhpurs covered with hayseeds, gloves dirty. She felt a deep sense of love and happiness coming from him.
    ‘You mean now is the best?’ she whispered.
    Spirit breathed on her hands. Yes .
    Whenever she had the time, Ellie led Spirit out down the lane, gently exercising him to build his muscles up. As February changed to March, Spirit’s lameness disappeared and he started to put on weight. He was devoted to Ellie but still wary of most other people, although he would tolerate Stuart leading him out or rugging him up if Ellie was at school. He was a different horse in the field, though – relaxed and confident. Whenever he was grazing, there would usually be at least three or four other horses around him, and wherever he moved they would follow. His fan club , Joe joked.
    ‘Spirit’s a good horse,’ Stuart told Ellie as they groomed Picasso before the big show in mid-March. ‘The others trust him. He’s like Merlin in that I know