Sandra's Summer.

Sandra's summer.
A short story by Brett Hornby.

Ponies!
I ran up to the gate and jumped on to the bottom bar so I could lean
over. I clicked my fingers, but the two ponies at the far side of the
field took no notice. I wondered who they belonged to; I passed this
field every day on my way home from school.
It was the last day of term, the last day of the school year. We'd
spent the day tidying up, then everyone had packed up and said goodbye.
When I got on the school bus it suddenly struck me that I wouldn't see
anyone until after the holidays. Next term. Oh, they all promised, but
I knew no one would come to see me. That's the trouble with living in a
small village.
The field with the ponies in it looked cool and green. A Jeep roared
by, a real American Jeep. The road was hot and dusty. I wondered if
Mummy had bought ice cream for tea.

I knew something was wrong when I saw Mummy was waiting at the
gate.
'They're bringing Graham home. He's very ill.'
Graham was only five. The doctor arrived soon after him. He said Graham
wasn't in a coma, he just kept falling asleep. He'd wet himself, then
he was sick. He stank.
I crept into my room; climbed into the cupboard and shut the
door.

Mummy didn't cry in front of me, but her eyes were red. Daddy's face
was white. The house seemed full of Doctors. I saw a black box with a
tube hanging out of it and I saw them sucking blood out of Graham with
a huge, huge, huge needle. He just lay there and watched them.

The house was big and dark and quiet. Daddy was at work. Mummy was
doing housework somewhere. She looked so tired all the time, I think
she'd run out of hugs. I tiptoed along the corridor to Graham's room.
He was asleep. He didn't look ill. Outside the big window, the sun
shone. The flat roof was out of bounds; I heaved open the big window
and climbed out. I lay in the sun, looking over the valley. A jet from
the American base flashed across the sky. No one noticed me being
naughty; I got bored and climbed back into Graham's room.

Mummy had bought him his favourite biscuits with icing on. I knew he
was going to die.

Daddy took me for a walk. It wasn't raining any more, but we wore our
wellingtons. You could smell everything clearly, and hear things a long
way away. Everything was still. We didn't talk about Graham. We walked
up through the woods. The path came out at the top of the big field. I
told Daddy about the ponies, but he wasn't listening.

I sat on the front doorstep. The house was covered in Virginia Creeper.
It was green at the moment, but in the autumn it would be flame red,
sunset red. The colour of blood. Here I had sat with Graham and watched
a thrush hammering snails against a stone. He had left more snails,
wanting the thrush to come back.
I heard the telephone ringing, and Mummy's panicky voice. She rushed
out and swept me into her arms. 'They're taking him into hospital,' she
said, 'They think they know what's wrong with him.'
'Is he going to get better?'
Mummy nodded. It was the only time I saw her cry.

He was screaming for Mummy when they took him. They wrapped an old grey
army blanket around him to stop him kicking, and Mummy pretended
everything was normal as they shut him in the ambulance without her. I
couldn't be so brave. I ran inside and wept, and wept.

Graham's room was weird without him in it. Mummy and Daddy had gone to
see him in hospital. They wouldn't let me go with them. I made the flat
roof my new secret place. Being out of bounds made it more delicious.
From there I could see the big field. Something in it moved. The
ponies! Daddy's study was out of bounds, too, but he had a telescope.
Every day, Mummy and Daddy went to see Graham. Every day, I lay on the
flat roof and watched the ponies. Afterwards, I climbed back into
Graham's empty bedroom, and told him all about it. 'They're called
Starfire and Rocket,' I said.

Mummy was making pastry. 'We must keep busy,' she said, 'Graham's made
friends with Roger.' She put the rolling pin down and lifted the pastry
into the pie dish. 'Roger taught him to draw aeroplanes.'
He would like that. He had a plastic toy jet, like the one from the air
base.
Mummy neatly cut around the pastry. She looked up, 'Roger is in a
wheelchair. He can tell the time.'
I pulled a piece of pastry from the edge. Mummy was cross.
'But I always have a piece.' I liked to eat the salty chewy mixture
raw.
'I'm sorry love.' She wiped her face with the back of her hand, 'why
don't you run away and play?'

There was somebody in the field. A child. Children, two of them.
Through the telescope, I could see two girls, one my age, one older.
They wore expensive clothes. They fed the ponies and led them round the
field. Each day, the girls came to feed them, sometimes to ride them.
Starfire and Rocket. I longed to ride them too. We would ride like the
wind and jump over the highest hedges. The girls would tell me all
their secrets while we fled from their pursuers.

Daddy was in the sitting room, sitting by the fireplace. He didn't
answer me, the newspaper had fallen onto his lap. He was asleep; I
crept out of the room and ran upstairs. I found a cotton reel and there
was some cardboard in my bedroom. I didn't need Daddy's help.
Suddenly Mummy was there.
'What are you doing, pet? Tea's been ready for ages.'
'I've made a clock,' I said, 'so Graham can tell the time.'
'Oh, for goodness sake, look at you, you've got paint all over your
dress. And it's your best frock, too. As if I didn't have enough on my
plate. Oh Sandra, how could you?'

The trees in the wood were like people; very tall people with their
feet tucked in the ground. They leaned over and talked to each other
above my heads. Sometimes you could hear them whispering. It was really
hot, and the cool wind was nice. It was shady and dark under the
trees.
I was too late. The field had bales in it, there for the ponies to jump
over, but the ponies had gone. The Jeep was at the bottom of the field.
There was a man in it wearing a uniform.
I sat on Graham's bed. 'The two girls are Princesses.' I told the room,
'They're called Julia and Gloria. They have left their kingdom and live
in this country secretly because they are afraid of being kidnapped.
I've seen them in the Jeep with the Air Force man.' I couldn't think of
a name for him, but he was probably a bodyguard.

Mummy was in Graham's bedroom, tidying everything up.
'Oh Sandy,' she said, 'he's coming home, soon.'
Daddy stayed up all night, painting funny pictures of animals. There
were all sorts; elephants and badgers, lions and hedgehogs. We spent
nearly all day pinning them up all round Graham's room. There were
presents from all our uncles and aunts and friends and Graham's
schoolteacher. It looked really good.
'Well,' said Daddy, 'that's a proper welcome for him. Poor little
mite.'
We all went into Oxford to collect him. It was the first time I'd seen
the hospital; it was a terrible place. We had to wait in a separate
room before they let us see him.
He looked so pale and thin, I forgot myself. I flew across the room and
flung my arms around him.
Graham screamed and hit me, hard. He ran to Mummy and clung on to her.
He grabbed her hair and wouldn't let go. It must have really hurt. He
bit her, then went on and on screaming, screaming. We had to take him
out to the car while Daddy signed some forms.
Mummy sat in the back with Graham. He had gone very quiet now, but he
wouldn't let go of her. I offered to help, but Mummy shook her
head.

Mummy had cooked a special tea, and we set the table with candles and
decorations, like at birthdays.
It was awful.
Graham wouldn't eat anything, but Mummy just rocked him back and forth
crooning to him like a baby. Daddy smiled at me, but he looked
sad.
Graham didn't touch any of the presents. He made Daddy take the
pictures down. He said they gave him nightmares.

The trees were dancing in the wind. I walked quickly, determined not to
run. The trees had plenty to say, but I didn't bother talking to them,
they wouldn't understand.
I had timed it right; as I came out of the woods, I saw the two
Princesses sitting on the wall.
'Hello,' I said, nervously.
They didn't answer. They were chewing gum.
'I came to see the ponies,' I said. I'd nearly called them Rocket and
Starfire.
They looked down at me with contempt. I searched for something to catch
their interest.
'I sometimes dream I have a pony.'
The older girl slid down from the wall. 'This is private land,' she
said, 'you're trespassing.' She turned to her sister, 'C'mon,
honey.'
I watched them walk away. They weren't Princesses.

(c) Brett Hornby 2000
1620 Words.