Lizard's Leap: Chapter Eight: Shoo Fly

‘Phew.’ Emma said. ‘That was close. We could have been killed.’ Her voice was shaking

Four heads popped up to peer out of the muddy ditch. They weren’t sure whether the horse would turn around and jump back over. Tentatively, they climbed out and tried to clean themselves up.

If there was one thing that Kerry hated above all else, it was being dirty. She prided herself on always looking neat and tidy and having clean nails and shiny, well-groomed hair. She was dripping wet, muddy and bedraggled.

‘This isn’t funny,’ she moaned. ‘I thought we were going to make daisy chains.’

‘Yeah, Kerry, you could have checked that the horse was friendly before you bought the picture,’ grumbled Emma.

A figure was running down the hill, a boy of about fifteen. He was dressed similar to Mark but was a lot scruffier than Mark had been to begin with. As he drew closer they saw that he had straw-coloured hair and deep blue eyes. He was out of breath and his cheeks were red with exertion. Vicki’s eyes opened as wide as saucers and she nearly swooned on the spot.

‘Typical. Flippin’ typical,’ she hissed to Emma. ‘The best looking boy I’ve seen in months and I have to look like Little Miss Muffet, the mud wrestler.’

Vicki smiled widely as the boy stopped beside them. She twisted a strand of wet hair around her finger and hoped that he wouldn’t notice the state she was in.

‘Mornin’ Misses, Sir,’ he touched his hand to his forehead, as though doffing an imaginary cap. ‘have you seen a chestnut stallion? He’s escaped and if I don’t find him I’ll be beaten to within an inch of my life.’

‘Seen it?’ Emma said, sarcastically. ‘We haven’t just seen it; we nearly ended up under it. The bloomin’ thing chased us all the way down the hill.’

The boy blushed. ‘Oh, I’m sorry about that, Miss. Fly is a bit spirited. I hope none of you were hurt. Pray, forgive me talking out of turn, but I can see you are dishevelled.’

Now, it was Vicki’s turn to blush. ‘We don’t always look like this, you know. I’m normally dead trendy. I dress Techno.’

The boy frowned. ‘You’re normally, dead?’ he looked confused, ‘Oh, Miss Trendy, I hope you haven’t been ill. How unfortunate for you to have nearly died.’

‘Eh?’ said Vicki.

The others laughed. Mark laughed so hard that he almost wet himself. The boy smiled at him then whispered to Vicki, ‘Is he feeble-minded, Miss? There’s a boy in the village that’s feeble-minded.’

Stepping back from Mark’s fit of laughter as though it was a contagious malady; the boy remembered the missing horse. ‘I really must go. I’m going to be in terrible trouble if I don’t find Shoo-fly.’

‘Shall we help you?’ asked Vicki, who had no intention of letting him get away that easily.

‘I am not…,’ Kerry began.

‘Shut up, Kerry,’ the other three yelled.

The boy said that he would be grateful for any help he could get. For the next hour they tramped over the fields trying to corner Shoo-fly. The horse would let them get up close to him and then he’d show the whites of his eyes and put his ears back until they were flat against his head. Vicki said that this was a sign of anger in a horse and Tom—as the boy was called—looked impressed. The horse would turn his back to them, kick mud in their faces and take off again.

They sat down on the grass to think. Vicki was furious that Tom had sat beside Kerry. She watched him as he tore off a stem of juicy grass, put it in his mouth, and chewed on it. She copied him but was so busy watching Tom that she didn’t notice that her stem of grass had a large globule of Cuckoo-spit attached to it. It was horrible stuff—a bubbly secretion from a bug called the Froghopper, an insect that attaches itself to a blade of grass and then blows foul tasting bubbles. These cover the bug and keep birds from eating it. The cuckoo–spit was smeared all over Vicki’s lips.

She shot up and spat on the grass and kept spitting until she was sure that her mouth was clear. It wasn’t the impression that she wanted to give. She was trying to be ladylike and grown up and maybe even a little bit sophisticated. They all laughed at her, and, as usual, Mark laughed longest and hardest.

Tom offered Vicki a hankie. Through her discomfort and fear that she was going to die from Cuckoo-spit poisoning, she noticed that his eyes went all crinkly when he laughed. Tom assured her that the goo was harmless and that she would be okay. This time, when she sat down, she managed to wriggle herself in on the other side of Tom.

They sat in silent thought for a few minutes and then Vicki had an idea.

‘Hey,’ she said, turning to Tom. ‘Have you seen The Horse Whisperer DVD?’

‘The what?’ said Tom, looking puzzled again.

‘Well, never mind. It’s about this man, right? And he’s dead good with horses. Anyway, he does this thing to catch them, right? He chases one for a bit and then, when it looks at him, he turns his back and walks away from it. Then it gets curious and walks up to him and wants to be friends, right? Why don’t you try it?’

‘Right,’ said Tom

Apart from driving everybody nuts with her singing, which she did far too much and far too often, Vicki was like Doctor Doolittle with hair extensions and was going to be a vet. She carried on talking to Tom until he looked so confused that he stopped replying and just gazed at her. Vicki had the feeling that he didn’t understand a word she was saying.

He looked doubtful but said that he’d give it a go. He chased Shoo-fly round for a few minutes and then he turned his back and walked away without looking back at the animal. When he had walked about twenty yards, he stood very still with his back to the horse. Shoo-fly whickered. It sounded as though he was saying, ‘Hey, I was enjoying that game. Don’t you want to play anymore? Why aren’t I the centre of attention?’

After a few minutes a huge shadow fell over Tom's right shoulder and he felt Shoo-fly’s soft nose nudging him. Tom turned round slowly and slipped the halter that he had brought with him gently over the horse’s head.

Tom looked very pleased with himself. So did Shoo-fly and Vicki was ecstatic. They chatted as they walked back to the Big House, as Tom called it. Mark lead the horse and he felt very important and imagined that Shoo-Fly was his. Tom was worried that he was going to be in trouble for losing the valuable horse. He told them that he had only had the job for a week, and his mistress was a cruel and nasty lady.

‘Mistress. That sounds goofy. Do you mean your teacher?’ Emma asked. They were all confused.
‘No, Miss Emma, I mean the lady who employs me. Wicked she is and she thinks naught of hitting me with her riding crop.’

‘You talk funny,’ said Mark, rudely.

‘You look funny,’ answered Tom glancing down at the mud-splattered boy. They grinned good-naturedly at each other.

Kerry had been thinking. ‘Tom, what year is it?’

‘1884, Miss Kerry. Have you forgotten?’

‘Don’t be daft. It’s two thousand and twelve and even I know that,’ Mark said.

The strange clothes and Tom’s odd manner of speaking made sense. They had leaped over a hundred years into the past. It was scary, terrifying, but very exciting. Kerry was more frightened than the others. They just seemed to think that it was amazing and all part of the adventure, but what if they leaped back home and time hadn’t reversed again? What if all of their family were dead and gone? She stopped herself from crying when she realised that if time didn’t go back to normal she would be a hundred and twenty-eight.

That explains why Tom doesn’t know what a DVD is, Vicki thought. The cousins were quiet for a while as they mulled this new information over.
Vicki was the first to speak. She had a huge crush on Tom and wanted him to keep talking to her. She couldn’t tell him that they were visitors from the future. He’d think they were mad so she changed the subject.

‘Tom, why is the horse called Shoo-Fly? It’s a pretty name.’

‘Ah,’ said Tom. ‘Mr Grimes, the head groom, told me the tale just last eve. When they bred him, they named him Fly. He was a greedy colt and when Mr Grimes took him his bran mash before bedding him down of a night, Fly would have his head in the pail before Grimes had set it down. Mr Grimes would push him off and say ‘Shoo-Fly,’ and thus he was named.’

Tom told them loads of interesting things about his life as a stable lad at Holker Manor. He started work very early in the morning, before it was even light and never finished until after dark. Sometimes, in summer, if any of the family wanted to ride late, he had to work until they came in. He was given two meals a day and was paid a shilling a week. Tom told them that he lived in the stable with the horses. He had a space in the hay-loft.

‘Where do you plug in your phone charger and stereo?’ Vicki asked.'Or do you have a docking station?'

‘I fear you are mistaken, Miss Trendy, we are many leagues from the sea.This is arable land and we transport our milled grain to the docks by cart. What is a stair-ee-oo, Miss Trendy?’ Tom asked, confused by the strange language.

‘Oh, never mind, and my name’s Vicki, Vick-ee, got it?’ She shook her head. He might be good looking and an older boy, but because he came from another age he was very odd.

‘Were you expatriated to India, Miss Vicki-ee? I hear tell that the sun is alarmingly hot there. Your parasol must have been of the finest quality.’

‘What is he on about?’ Vicki asked the others but they had no idea, either.

Soon they were at the rear gates of Holker Manor.

‘Good day, then. Thank you for helping me to catch Fly. I’ll remember for next time, Miss Vick-ee.’

They said goodbye to Tom and watched him walk the horse up the gravel path that led to the stables. Vicki sighed deeply.

‘Vicki’s in lurve,’ teased Mark.

****

Back at home in 2012, Emma wandered into the kitchen where Nana was loading the dishwasher and humming to herself.

‘Nana, how much was a shilling in old money?’

‘Well, let me think, now. It’s a long time ago, you know. Twelve pennies, I think. That’s right, twelve pennies made up one shilling, which is five pence in new money. Why do you ask, sweetheart?’

‘Oh, you know, just wondered.’

She thought about all the hours that Tom had to work for five piddly little pence. He had already died a long time ago and that made her sad.

Vicki had a crush on a ghost. She smiled, knowing that very soon she would use that to her advantage and Vicki’s embarrassment.