Rescuing Rosie Read online

  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2021

  Published in this ebook edition in 2021

  HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,

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  Text copyright © Jean Ure 2021

  Cover design copyright © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2021

  Jean Ure asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Source ISBN: 9780008398514

  Ebook Edition © July 2021 ISBN: 9780008398521

  Version: 2021-05-31

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Have you read …

  Books by Jean Ure

  About the Publisher

  Learning how to ride had been one of my dreams for almost as long as I could remember – ever since I was six years old and Mum and Dad had taken me to the seaside for the day, and there had been a woman on the beach giving pony rides. I had begged to be allowed to have a go! Mum had been a bit nervous because I was really tiny and the pony was quite big so my feet didn’t even reach the stirrups, but I wasn’t in the least scared. It just felt so right. The pony woman said I had a natural seat, and for ages afterwards I was all puffed up and had these visions of taking part in gymkhanas and winning rosettes. I knew it was only make-believe, like when you pretend you’re a celeb and you’re being interviewed for an article in some glossy magazine. I mean, for one thing we were living in London at the time and there wasn’t a riding stable anywhere near. It wasn’t till I was eleven that we came to live in the country – well, Mum and I came to live in the country – and suddenly there were riding stables all over the place! Still, I never seriously thought that I would be able to take lessons.

  Mum and Dad having split up, which was the reason Mum had decided to move, we didn’t have very much money. Mum works really hard, translating stuff from foreign languages such as Russian – she is very clever, my mum! But, alas, it is not all that well paid. As for my dad, Mum says he is a lost cause. The reason she says that is because he gave up his very important job in London to go and live in Cornwall with a woman called Wanda and do his ‘own thing’. Unfortunately, doing his own thing brings in hardly any money at all, so I knew he wouldn’t be able to pay for my lessons.

  And then, yay! A totally brilliant and unexpected thing happened. A very aged, ancient relative of Mum’s died and Mum came into some money! Only a little bit of money, not like people win on the lottery, but enough for Mum to say that at long last I could have my riding lessons. I couldn’t wait to tell Katy! Katy lives right next door to us, with her mum. They had only been there a few months. Before that, they had been townies like us, so when we discovered that we were not only at the same school but were even in the same class, we had become best friends immediately.

  Now, every Sunday, as soon as we’d had breakfast we would jump on our bikes and ride as fast as we could to the stables. We couldn’t wait to get there! In London our mums would never have let us go anywhere on our bikes for fear of all the traffic. I hadn’t even had a bike in those days, but when we moved to the country and she saw how quiet it was, Mum had gone on eBay and found me one. Second-hand, but every bit as good as Katy’s, which was bright green and brand new. A birthday present from her dad!

  The bikes had been Katy’s idea, the riding lessons mine. Katy had never even thought about it before, in spite of living in the country. Not that she had been there all that long, but she could have had lessons whenever she wanted. No problem! Her dad is a banker and earns simply stacks of money. Stacks and stacks. And because he and Katy’s mum are also divorced – which is one of the things that first made me and Katy bond – he spoils Katy rotten. He is always giving her stuff. If she were to ask him for a diamond tiara, he would probably buy one for her, never mind just paying for riding lessons. But, as she said, it would have been totally disloyal to have done it without me. We were best friends; we do things together! That is what being best friends is all about.

  Also, though I don’t mean to be unfair, I think that secretly she would have been a bit too scared to do it by herself. It was quite funny the first time we went to the stables, though I tried not to giggle because that would have been unkind and might have embarrassed her. But just for a moment I could almost see her legs turning to jelly. Bethany, the girl who was going to teach us, appeared in the yard leading this enormous great horse towards us. I mean, really huge! It was tossing its mane and making funny snorty noises through its nose. Katy took a step back and went, ‘That’s n-not for us, is it?’ Her voice had gone all thin and quavery. Bethany laughed and said, ‘No way! This is Rosie. She’s far too big for you.’

  I must admit, even I would have found it a bit nerve-racking, climbing on top of a horse that towered way above me! But I reached up and stroked her muzzle and she did the sweetest thing: she pushed her big horsey head into my hand and made this little whickering sound.

  ‘Here,’ said Bethany. She dug into her pocket and pulled out a carrot stick. ‘Give her this and she’ll be yours forever!’

  I held it out and that huge great horse took it so gently. All I felt was the soft velvet of her lips brush my hand.

  ‘She’s a real sweetie,’ said Bethany. ‘Aren’t you, my darling?’

  She put an arm round Rosie and Rosie lowered her head so that Bethany could give her a kiss. I thought, I could do that! Not right away, of course; we’d have to get to know each other first. She wouldn’t want any old stranger planting kisses on her! Maybe in a week or two she’d feel that I could be trusted. I really, really wanted her to trust me! After all, I wasn’t just coming here to learn how to ride; I wanted to learn about the horses themselves. How they behaved, how to look after them, what they enjoyed.

  I asked Bethany how long she had been working at the stables and she said that she had been riding there since she was ten years old and now worked part-time in exchange for free rides. I did so envy her!

  She told us that in spite of being so big, Rosie was one of the sweetest-natured horses she had ever known.

  ‘Go on!’ she said. ‘Give her a hug!’

  I stood on tiptoe and slipped my arm round Rosie’s neck. Rosie immediately lowered her head and nuzzled at me. I felt so honoured!

  Bethany said, ‘She just loves being made a fuss of. Katy, go on, you try!’

  Poor Katy! I could see she was terrified and trying desperately not to show it.

  ‘She won’t hurt you,’ said Bethany. ‘She’d never do anything to hurt you.’

  Very gingerly Katy reached up and patted Rosie’s neck. I could see her all tense and holding her breath. Next thing we know she’s like, �
�Eek!’ and falling into a mad fit of the giggles.

  ‘She’s chewing my hair!’

  ‘Just nibbling,’ said Bethany. ‘It’s a sign of affection! I told you, she’s a real poppet.’

  ‘And so pretty,’ I said. ‘A pink horse!’

  Bethany agreed that it was quite an unusual colour. ‘She’s what’s known as a strawberry roan.’

  Strawberry roan. I stored it up for future use. It was important to know what I was talking about! Obviously no real horse person would talk about a horse being pink.

  Katy, now perfectly relaxed and only too happy to have her hair nibbled, was marvelling at how tall Rosie was. ‘She’s taller than we are!’

  ‘Almost sixteen hands,’ said Bethany, and then kindly she added, ‘that’s how you measure a horse’s height … in hands. A hand is four inches, or just over ten centimetres … so Rosie is about five foot three, or …’ She waved a hand. ‘I don’t know how many centimetres! We still tend to measure horses the old-fashioned way.’

  Katy, who is clever at maths, did a bit of silent calculation and with an air of triumph announced, ‘One point six metres!’

  I said, ‘Wow.’

  ‘I’m impressed!’ said Bethany.

  I reached up and gently stroked Rosie’s nose. ‘Will we be able to ride her one day?’ I asked.

  Bethany said, ‘One day. When you’ve grown a bit! You could probably walk her round the field, once you’ve learnt the basics.’

  I would have given anything to walk her round the field right there and then! I was quite disappointed when Bethany put her back in her stall and brought out two tiny little ponies for us – a stocky black one with a shaggy coat, and a chestnut, slightly taller, with a white star on her forehead.

  Katy perked up immediately. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘That’s better!’

  ‘More your size,’ nodded Bethany.

  I pulled a bit of a face. The ponies were cute, especially the shaggy black one, which had a really cheeky face, but I would so have liked to show Bethany how cool I was. I’d have scrambled on to Rosie right away if only she’d have let me.

  Bethany had obviously noticed my face-pulling. ‘Don’t you worry,’ she said. ‘One of these is a right little goer. He’ll give you a run for your money!’

  Eagerly I said, ‘Which one?’ I could almost feel Katy starting to quiver.

  ‘Jet.’ Bethany pointed to the little shaggy black one. He was standing there seemingly as good as gold, but I could see that he definitely had a naughty glint in his eye. ‘He’s not vicious,’ Bethany assured us. ‘He’s actually quite a comedian. But he will take advantage, if you let him. Shetlands are notoriously self-willed! Strong too, although they’re small. Freya, now –’ she led the other pony forward – ‘she’ll do what she’s told. Far better behaved, aren’t you, my darling?’ She put an arm round Freya’s neck and hugged her. ‘She’s a good girl, this one! Okay, so who wants which?’

  Katy looked at me pleadingly. I am taller than she is, so by right I should have been the one to have Freya. But Jet had that wicked glint in his eye! Freya was a lady. And she was pretty! Katy is pretty. Pretty with red-gold hair, whereas I have dark hair and my mum calls me sallow. My hair is dark and I don’t think I could be called pretty. I certainly don’t have a nice little round face like Katy. Funny little Jet was more my sort of horse! He might be short and stumpy and have great big hooves like dinner plates, but so what? He was a comedian, and sometimes so am I!

  ‘I’ll have Jet,’ I said.

  Katy was really grateful. And she looked so good mounted on Freya, both of them so elegant, almost like they had been made for each other, that I really didn’t mind. Bethany told me she thought we’d made the right choices, as I seemed to have more confidence than Katy.

  ‘You’ve obviously got a feel for it. You should do well.’

  She didn’t say it in front of Katy, and I didn’t pass it on, even though I was bursting to do so! I couldn’t resist telling Mum, though, when I got home.

  ‘I knew I’d be good at riding! It’s just something I felt.’

  ‘Pity you didn’t feel it about maths,’ said Mum.

  Now, why did she have to go and bring that up? Just when I was feeling so pleased with myself!

  Trying not to sound cross, I said, ‘I didn’t feel it about maths because I’m not any good at maths!’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ said Mum.

  I rolled my eyes. Me and maths was a bit of a sore subject. I’d got a D on our most recent test. Mrs Simmons had said it would have been a D– if the marks had gone that low. On last term’s report she’d written, ‘I don’t believe Hannah is anywhere near as useless as she makes out. A bit more application would work wonders.’ Huh! That was all she knew. Just as there are some people that can’t understand letters, so there are some that can’t understand numbers. And I am one of them! Nothing to do with application.

  For our first few lessons me and Katy had to stay in the indoor ring, just learning how to hold the reins and how to sit properly – straight-backed, elbows tucked into our sides, heels down.

  ‘Down, down! Heels down!’ Bethany kept shouting it, as we slowly plodded round the ring.

  ‘I can’t!’ wailed Katy. ‘My toes keep going down!’

  ‘Well, don’t let them! Just keep saying to yourself … heels, heels … heels down!’

  ‘They still won’t go!’ Katy was beginning to sound desperate. ‘I think there’s something wrong with my feet!’

  ‘Rubbish!’ said Bethany. ‘Your feet are perfectly normal. Watch Hannah … see how she does it!’

  ‘Heels down!’ I chanted to Katy, as we collected our bikes at the end of the lesson.

  ‘It’s no good,’ moaned Katy. ‘I’m never going to get the hang of it!’

  ‘You will!’ I said. I said it quite fiercely. I didn’t want to go riding on my own! Best friends do things together. ‘You can’t give up,’ I said. ‘Not if you’re going to be a vet!’ Katy was going to be a vet; I was going to run an animal sanctuary. We had it all planned. ‘You can’t be a vet if you don’t know about horses!’

  ‘I could still know about them,’ muttered Katy. And then, before I had a chance to start arguing with her, she said, ‘Let’s go and look round the shopping centre!’

  I pulled a face. I wasn’t really in the mood for looking round the shopping centre. I had this pony book I’d got from the library and was dying to get back to it, but Katy was obviously keen so I said okay, if she really wanted to. I suppose, to be honest, I felt a bit guilty, what with Bethany holding me up as an example and poor Katy struggling.

  When we reached the centre, carefully padlocking our bikes to the railings, we found there was a table parked just inside the entrance with a big banner above it saying ANIMAL SAMARITANS. Behind the table there was an elderly lady wearing a bright yellow tabard with the same words printed on it. Needless to say, we couldn’t resist going up to have a look. Anything to do with animals and we are right there!

  The lady asked us if we felt like signing her petition against the fur trade. Both me and Katy think killing animals for their fur is really cruel, so naturally we signed straight away. Then we noticed that on her table the lady had a tray full of badges, also saying Animal Samaritans, and all with cute pictures of various different animals. I asked if I could have one and the lady said yes, so long as I was prepared to swear that I would ‘help animals in need whenever and wherever I could’. Very solemnly I said, ‘I swear’, and Katy said that she did too, so the lady gave us each a card, saying that we were now officially Animal Samaritans and could choose badges for ourselves. I chose a dog, a dog being what I wanted more than anything else in the world, and Katy chose a cat, as she lived in hope of being able to talk her mum (who is rather house-proud) into letting her have one. We promised that we would wear our badges everywhere! It was important, said Katy, as we fetched our bikes, that everyone should know what we stood for.

  ‘Cos then if they hear about an
animal that needs help, like being abandoned or ill treated they’ll know they can come to us and we’ll do something about it.’

  I said, ‘Absolutely!’

  I almost couldn’t wait. I wanted to start rescuing animals right there and then!

  When I got home and excitedly told Mum, thinking she would be pleased to have a daughter that cared about stuff other than boys and clothes and computer games, all of which she is constantly grumbling about, she just frowned and said, ‘When you say do something … what sort of something are you talking about?’

  I said we couldn’t really tell until the time came, just that we would be prepared to go anywhere and do anything if it meant helping an animal in trouble. Mum made a little grunting noise, like ‘Hm!’

  ‘I thought you’d be happy,’ I said. ‘Don’t you like me caring about animals?’

  Mum said of course she did, but she hoped I wasn’t getting myself mixed up with a group of people that used violence, or broke the law.

  I said, ‘Breaking the law how?’

  ‘Well, like smashing shop windows or breaking into laboratories,’ said Mum.

  I assured her that Animal Samaritans wasn’t like that. We had heard the elderly lady (whose name was Pat) arguing quite fiercely with a boy who belonged to a group called Direct Action. She had said that violence was not the way forward. I didn’t tell Mum that while I wouldn’t, of course, be violent, I would quite happily break the law if it meant rescuing an animal that was in distress – well, I would if I was brave enough, which I would like to think that I was. To be honest, I’m not really sure. I do sometimes have these dreams of running into burning buildings and snatching poor terrified animals from the jaws of death, or creeping out over frozen lakes, with the ice cracking ominously beneath me, to pluck a drowning dog to safety, but since I have so far not actually been put to the test it is difficult to say for certain. One thing I did know was that it would be asking for trouble to say anything to Mum!

  One Sunday, when Katy and I went for our riding lesson, Bethany said she thought the time had come for us to try going on a real ride. Or a hack, as she called it. I was a bit puzzled by this as I thought hacking was what people did when they broke into other people’s computers and caused problems, but it seemed that in the horsey world it just meant going for a ride. Needless to say, I was thrilled!