National Velvet (12 page)

    
“Fine chap,” said Mr. Croom.

    
“Cup of coffee, Mr. Croom?” said Mrs. Brown.

    
“If you're making any.” Mr. Croom peered through the street window. “Quite a stir in the village.”

    
“Yes,” said Mr. Brown.

    
“ 'Strordinary thing,” said Mr. Croom. “Like a tale.”

    
“Yes,” said Mr. Brown again. “Took to Velvet, I suppose.”

    
“Ever seen him before, Velvet?” said Mr. Croom.

    
“Yes,” said Velvet faintly. “Once. At the Lingdown Horse Show.”

    
“Better leave her,” said Mrs. Brown. “Turns her stomach.”

    
“Well, well . . .” said Mr. Croom regretfully. “Yes.”

    
Mr. Cellini swam across the ceiling, frailer than memory, like a cobweb.

    
Mr. Brown rose again and looked at his watch on the sideboard. “Should be here,” he said.

    
“Where's your gold and silver bag?” said Velvet suddenly to Donald.

    
“I put it away,” said Donald.

    
“Don't you want it?” said Mr. Croom, hurt.

    
“No,” said Donald. “I might want it some day.”

    
“What you got there instead?”

    
“It's my spit bottle,” said Donald, holding up a medicine bottle on a string.

    
He walked a little further into the room and dangled the bottle, showing a little viscous fluid in the bottom. “That's my spit,” he said.

    
“He's collecting his spit,” said Velvet.

    
Donald applied his mouth at the top and with difficulty dribbled a little more spit into the neck.

    
“D'you let him do those sort o' things?” said Mr. Brown to Mrs. Brown.

    
“Take it outside,” said Mrs. Brown. “Here's your coffee, Mr. Croom.”

    
Edwina, Malvolia and Meredith burst the street door open with the crowd behind their shoulders. “Over the hill! You can see them!” Meredith panted, and all three disappeared.

    
Mrs. Brown picked up Donald, his spit bottle swinging. 'Put your cardigan on,” she said to Velvet. “Keep warm an' you'll be all right.”

    
They all went out, the crowd following them, and turned up the chalk road.

    
“Where's Mi?” said Velvet suddenly.

    
“Got a half dozen sheep to fetch,” said Mr. Brown. “Be here any minute.”

    
“Poor Mi,” said Velvet, and walked on, rapt with happiness.

    
Over the brow of the hill five horses moved down towards them.

    
“Ther's three grooms. My word, ther's three of them,” said Mally, who had joined the procession. The grooms were walking the horses, two horses to a groom, then one alone at the back. As they reached the foot of the grass slope and stepped on to the flashing chalky road in the sun, the black crêpe could be seen on the arm of each walking groom. They were bowler-hatted, and round each bowler a band of crêpe was tied. The head groom, walking in front with the grey mare and Sir Pericles, had a rosy face and a fine black coat of good cloth. The others wore dark grey.

    
The horses were halted at the entrance to the village.

    
The head groom produced a slip of paper. “Miss Velvet Brown?” he asked. Mr. Brown stepped forward, Velvet close behind. Her thin face shone, smile alight, frock ballooned under cardigan, legs bare and scratched. “I'm Velvet,” she said.

    
She walked up to Sir Pericles, transfigured, touched him gently on his neck, took the rein from the groom.

    
“We'll go down to the house,” she said softly. “I'll lead this one home.”

    
“Better let me,” said the groom. Velvet stared at him, shook her head, and walked on leading the shining horse.

    
“Daft to-day,” said Mr. Brown to the groom.

    
“Mind she don't let him go then,” said the groom.

    
The procession went on, Velvet first with her horse, Mr. Brown at her elbow, the horses and the village people following. “Keep the boys back! Don't let them frighten the horses!” said the old head groom.

    
“Keep back there,” said Mr. Croom mildly, and the boys ran and skipped. Edwina and Malvolia and Meredith went ahead, turning to look over their shoulders.

    
“Better stop!” called Edwina.

    
The procession drew up and halted as it reached the street. Half a dozen sheep had arrived unexpectedly from a farm for the slaughter-house, and Mi was striving to get the last three in. He ran about in his Sunday clothes, put on for the arrival of the horses. They could hear him cursing. The three sheep skipped, butted and ran. “Yer poor slut!” yelled Mi to the last one, bounding like a hare to keep it out of the main road. He turned it, and the last of the sheep went dingily behind the great wooden door. With the clatter of delicate feet on brick the horses moved on till they reached the sunny square before the cottage.

    
Donald was swinging his bottle before the door. He had not kept up with the procession.

    
“Keep that child in!” called Mr. Brown. But Donald swung his bottle gently, and Mrs. Brown did no more than lay a finger on his head.

    
The horses were drawn up facing the doorway and the second groom took over the bunch of leather reins. They ran like soft straps of silk over his fingers, narrow, polished, and flexible.

    
“Better take this into the house and read it over,”
suggested the head groom to Mr. Brown, handing him a typewritten sheet.

    
Mr. Brown glanced at it and called to Velvet. Together they went in at the door and sat down at the little fern table inside. Mr. Brown pushed the ferns gently to one side and laid out the sheet.

    
“One chestnut gelding. 14 hands. Seven years old,
Sir Pericles
. 1 snaffle bit, bridle, noseband and standing martingale. 1 Ambrose saddle, leathers and stirrups. 1 pair webbing girths.”

    
And underneath this Velvet wrote “Velvet Brown.”

    
“One grey polo pony. Mare. 15 hands. Nine years old.
Mrs. James
. 1 straight pelham, etc. . . . martingale . . . soft saddle and sewn girths.”

    
And underneath Velvet wrote “Velvet Brown.”

    
“1 child's pony, chestnut. 12.2 hands. Gelding.
George
. Snaffle bit and double bit. Soft saddle and sewn girths, etc.”

    
And Velvet wrote “Velvet Brown.”

    
“1 cob pony, for hacking or cart. 13.3 hands, dark bay gelding.
Fancy
. 1 double bit, etc. . . . old leather saddle, and harness for cart.”

    
“Velvet Brown.”

    
“1 Dartmoor filly, two years old, unbroken. 11 hands. Halter only.
Angelina
.”

    
“Velvet Brown.”

    
When Velvet had written her name for the fifth time, carefully, in ink, and with her breath held tight, her father touched her arm, and they both returned to the sunlight of the street. Mr. Brown gave the paper to the head groom.

    
“What are you doing with them straight away?” said the groom.

    
“Turning them into a field of mine,” said Mr. Brown.

    
The groom hesitated. “Warm weather, but they've none on 'em been out at night yet. Won't hurt the little filly.”

    
“They'll have to be out now,” said Mr. Brown, with a slight rise of voice, as though he were being dictated to.

    
“Will they eat sugar?” said Mally.

    
“All except the grey mare,” said the groom. “She likes apple.”

    
Mally brought sugar out of her cotton pocket. Meredith went for an apple.

    
“Shall you be selling them, sir?” said the groom a little hesitatingly to Mr. Brown.

    
“They're mine!” said Velvet suddenly.

    
“We've not decided anything,” said Mr. Brown. Velvet's soul became several sizes too large for her, her mouth opened, and she struggled with speech. Mrs. Brown's hand fell on her shoulder, and her soul sank back to its bed.

    
“I suppose you are fixed up with a man?” said the head groom tentatively. “I have a place myself, but . . .” He made a gesture towards the other two grooms.

    
“I'm a butcher,” said Mr. Brown firmly. “My girl goes and gets herself five horses. Five! We've seven all told, with that piebald. If she has to have horses she must look after 'em. We've fields in plenty, and there's oats in the shed, and I've four girls all of an age to look
after horses. Beyond that I won't go. I'll have no fancy stables here. I'm a plain man and a butcher, and we've got to live.”

    
“Eh, yes,” said the little old, rosy-headed groom. “Shall we unsaddle them and turn them into the field for you?”

    
“Saddles'll have to go in the slaughter-house,” said Mr. Brown. “Through with them sheep yet?” he said to Mi.

    
“Ain't begun,” said Mi.

    
“Well then, you can put the saddles in the sun here on the wood rail, and lead 'em to the field in the bridles. Head collars they have on 'em. P'raps you'd better leave the bridles here.”

    
The head groom went up to the girths of Sir Pericles, but Velvet's thin hand was on his arm. “I'm going to try them all first,” she said.

    
Mr. Brown heard what she said, though he made no sign. He looked at Donald, then at his wife. She made no sign either.

    
“Fetch your gold sweets now!” said Mr. Brown heavily and with unreality to Donald, tweaking his chin, and retired from the whole scene towards the slaughterhouse.

    
“Let's go round to the field,” said Velvet, with confidence, to the groom.

    
“Wait a bit,” said Mrs. Brown. “You'll have a little something first. Edwina, there's that bottle of port. Bring it out. And glasses. Mr. Croom, you'll join too, a drop won't do anybody any harm.”

    
Edwina and Mally brought out the fern table, a tin one, the sacred table that was never moved.

    
Velvet as the heroine, Edwina as the eldest, the head groom as the guest, and Mrs. Brown as the hostess sat down at the table and sipped a sip from the thick glasses of port. The village stood round at a respectful distance, and Mally and Meredith walked among the horses. Sir Pericles drooped his neck and nuzzled by the head groom's pockets. The second grooms shared a glass between them. Then they all went up to the field to try the horses.

    
Velvet mounted Sir Pericles. She had ridden Miss Ada for eight years, hopped her over bits of brushwood and gorse-bushes, and trotted her round at the local gymkhana. Once she had ridden a black pony belonging to the farmer at Pendean. She had a natural seat, and her bony hands gathered up the reins in a tender way. But she had never yet felt reins that had a trained mouth at the end of them, and, as she cantered up the slope of the sunny field with the brow of the hill and the height of the sky in front of her, Sir Pericles taught her in three minutes what she had not known existed. Her scraggy, childish fingers obtained results at a pressure. The living canter bent to right or left at her touch. He handed her the glory of command.

    
When she slid to the ground by the side of the head groom she was speechless, and leant her forehead for a second on the horse's flank.

    
“You ride him a treat,” said the groom. “You done a bit of riding.”

    
“Never ridden anything but her old pony,” said Mi, his hair rising in pride.

    
“The mare here's harder,” said the groom. “Excitable, and kind of tough.”

    
He shot Velvet's light body and cotton frock into this second saddle. Her sockless feet, leather-shod, nosed for the stirrups. The groom shortened the leathers till they would go no more, and then tied knots in them. Mrs. James, the mare, broke into a sweat at once. She flirted her ears wildly back and forwards, curved her grey neck, shook her bit, gave backward glances with her black eyes, like polished stones in her pale face.

    
“Mind! She don't start straight! She'll leap as she starts, and then she'll settle. She was Mr. Frank's polo pony an' she's not really nervous but she's keen.”

    
There was scum on the mare's neck already, and the reins carved it off on to the leather as she shook her head. Mrs. Brown, holding Donald by the wall, watched quietly. Edwina, Mally and Merry sat on the gate.

    
“Hang on!” said the groom, and let go. Mrs. James, with a tremendous leap, started up the field. Her nostrils were distended, her ears pricked with alarm. She thought she carried a ghost. She could not feel anything on her back, yet her mouth was held. Velvet, whose hand had slipped down to the bridge of the saddle at the first leap, settled more steadily and lifted her hand to the reins. Mrs. James snorted as she cantered, like a single-cylindered car. She was not difficult to ride once the first start had been weathered. They
rounded the field together; then Velvet got up on the pony George. George threw her as soon as her cotton frock touched his back.