Chocolate Box Girls: Coco Caramel Read online

  ‘Rescue?’ he repeats. ‘Steal, you mean! Are you serious?’

  ‘Why not? Seddon may have paid for her, but he bought Caramel under false pretences – Jean and Roy would never have let her go if they’d known what a creep he is. We can’t leave her here, Lawrie!’

  He frowns. ‘Seddon really is bad news, y’know,’ he tells me. ‘He runs pheasant shoots for groups of toffs from the city, so he has a gun. Stealing something of his is not a good idea.’

  ‘Do you have a better one?’

  Lawrie laughs, and for a moment, in the shadowy stable, I catch a glimpse of the boy he could be if he wasn’t always cross and scowling. His whole face lights up – it’s kind of surprising.

  ‘So … we’re doing this?’ he checks.

  ‘I’m doing it,’ I shrug. ‘You can please yourself.’

  I saddle Caramel quickly, then take her head collar and lead her forward, out into the yard. The dog stares at us, forlorn, but Lawrie talks to it in a low whisper and it makes no attempt to bark as we latch the stable-yard gate behind us and make for the woods.

  ‘What now?’ Lawrie asks as we step into the safety of the trees. ‘Do you have a plan?’

  ‘I’m going to hide Caramel in the stables at home,’ I reply. ‘Our pet sheep Humbug lives there at the moment, but I am pretty sure she won’t mind sharing.’

  ‘What will you tell your parents?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet,’ I admit. ‘This is a spur of the moment thing, I haven’t had a chance to plan out the details …’

  ‘Not going to work,’ he says. ‘Trust me, Seddon will go crazy once he discovers Caramel is gone. He’ll get the police involved, the newspapers, you name it. Your parents would know exactly what had happened, and I bet they’d hand Caramel straight back. Even if they didn’t want to, the police would probably make them. No, if we’re going to help Caramel, we need to hide her – somewhere nobody will find her.’

  ‘Where, though?’ I ask. ‘A pony is pretty hard to hide!’

  Lawrie frowns, thoughtful.

  ‘I know a place. But if we’re really doing this … well, there’s something else you should see.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Lawrie ties Caramel’s reins to a branch and grabs my hand in the darkness. Shock and annoyance flood through me, but before I can argue or swat him away he pulls me out of the trees and into the farmyard, dropping my hand again and pushing open the door of the fourth stable. In the darkness, I breathe in the warm, slightly treacly smell of horse mixed with the sour ammoniac reek of wet straw.

  ‘Another horse?’ I whisper.

  Lawrie flicks on a torch, lighting up a bedraggled dapple-grey pony cowering in the far corner of the stall. Her belly is round as a barrel, and her eyes flare with fear as she begins skittering, jostling, trying to back away.

  ‘She’s terrified!’ I say.

  ‘And she’s in foal,’ Lawrie points out. ‘Seddon bought her cheap, and he’s totally neglected her.’

  I look at the startled pony and bite my lip. Rescuing one pony or rescuing two … what’s the difference?

  ‘Lawrie,’ I say, ‘we’ll have to take her too. We can’t leave her here!’

  ‘Thought you’d say that,’ he huffs, and I can’t tell whether he is pleased or irritated by my decision. ‘Suppose we might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb …’

  He moves forward slowly, talking softly to the pony, offering her grain, clipping a leading rein on to her head collar. Jumpy and afraid, she still allows Lawrie to lead her out of the stable and into the woods. I wonder just how this boy can be so good with horses and yet so awkward with people?

  Half an hour later Lawrie is riding Caramel uphill through moonlit fields while I trudge along behind with the dapple-grey mare. Lawrie Marshall has not only hijacked my plan but taken charge of it – he really is the most annoying boy I know.

  ‘You’re good,’ I tell him grudgingly, as I guide the frightened grey forward. ‘Have you worked with horses before?’

  ‘Loads,’ he shrugs. ‘Up until I came to Somerset, anyhow.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘You’ll see …’

  We go on, cross-country in the moonlight for a mile or so, until we are high up on the moors, scrunching through heather and bracken, listening to the drumming cry of grouse and the soft huffing of the ponies’ breath as they climb. Just when I am losing the will to live, the dark shape of a house appears in the distance, and Lawrie swings down from the saddle.

  ‘They should be OK here,’ he says. ‘This place was a smallholding once, but it’s been derelict for years – there’s no proper road to it, you see. The ponies can go in the walled garden – it’s all closed in and overgrown. Nobody would think of looking there – it’s miles from the roads and there aren’t any paths or tracks nearby, so hikers and tourists don’t really bother with it. I’ll bring them some grain and stuff tomorrow.’

  ‘We will,’ I correct him. ‘This rescue was my idea, remember?’

  ‘How could I forget?’ Lawrie sighs. ‘OK. Can you be here for half two-ish, d’you think?’

  ‘I suppose,’ I say, shivering a little in the moonlight. ‘This place is spooky.’

  ‘It’s safe,’ Lawrie shrugs. ‘That’s what matters, isn’t it?’

  For once in his life, I guess Lawrie is right.

  13

  I wake late, shivering under the quilt in the gypsy caravan with Fred the dog burrowed underneath the duvet. When the door opens and Cherry comes in with French toast and hot chocolate I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.

  ‘You’re awake,’ she grins. ‘I peeped in earlier, and you were still out for the count.’

  I have no idea what time I finally made it home last night. By the time I’d trekked back over the moors to retrieve my bike from Blue Downs House and pedalled home in the moonlight, I was exhausted. I crept into the gypsy caravan, crawled under the covers and slept. I dreamt of Caramel and the dapple-grey mare galloping free across the moors, and then the dream turned into a nightmare and I was running through the darkness, lost, alone, being chased by horrible Mr Seddon and his shotgun.

  Not good. I push the thought away.

  ‘You are officially the best stepsister I have ever had,’ I say to Cherry, reaching for the hot chocolate. ‘Thank you!’

  ‘I’m the only stepsister you’ve ever had,’ she laughs. ‘And I’m glad you slept well because I didn’t – I was worried sick! Tell me what you were doing, Coco, please?’

  ‘Promise you won’t say anything to anyone?’ I check. ‘Seriously – you have to keep it secret. Sisters don’t tell, right?’

  Cherry frowns. ‘I guess,’ she shrugs. ‘But … it’s nothing awful, is it? Illegal?’

  I tell Cherry the story of Caramel’s rescue and her eyes open wide.

  ‘It is illegal,’ she whispers, horrified. ‘But I can see exactly why you did it. Poor Caramel!’

  I sip my hot chocolate. ‘Actually, it wasn’t just Caramel. There was another pony too – a pregnant mare. We couldn’t leave her behind!’

  Cherry frowns. ‘Two ponies? Be careful, Coco. That Seddon bloke sounds like a total creep. I think you should tell Dad and Charlotte!’

  ‘But Seddon will report the theft and get the police involved,’ I argue. ‘And Mum and Paddy would make me give the ponies back. Adults always stick together!’

  ‘Dad and Charlotte would understand, if you explained it properly,’ Cherry says. ‘They’d know what to do.’

  I bite my lip. ‘I can’t,’ I say. ‘I promised Lawrie.’

  Cherry frowns. ‘So who is this Lawrie per
son?’ she asks. ‘Do I know him?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I frown. ‘He joined the middle school last year – moved from up north, I think, judging by his accent. He’s a bit of a mystery boy.’

  ‘They’re the ones to watch out for,’ Cherry says darkly. ‘Tread carefully, Coco. This stunt with the horses is serious stuff – I bet you anything it will make the papers, cause a big fuss with the police. You could get into a whole heap of trouble. I mean, it’s OK to like a boy, have a crush even, but don’t let him lead you astray.’

  I just about choke on my hot chocolate.

  ‘Er, no way do I fancy Lawrie Marshall,’ I snort. ‘He is the most obnoxious, irritating boy in the world. Horrible and arrogant and rude.’

  Cherry looks unconvinced.

  ‘I mean it,’ I argue. ‘Not. Interested. End of story. Besides, Lawrie is not leading me astray – the rescue was all my idea. I agree with him about keeping it quiet, though. We can’t let Seddon get his hands on Caramel again. As for the other pony, she was terrified – I can’t let them go back there. We have to keep them hidden, for now at least – I’ll make sure they’re fed and groomed. I’ll think of a better plan soon, but right now this has to stay secret. You won’t give me away, will you?’

  My stepsister bites her lip. ‘I suppose not,’ she promises. ‘But I don’t like this, Coco. Technically, it’s stealing, and if anyone finds out you were involved …’

  ‘They won’t.’

  Cherry sighs. ‘You’ve rescued the ponies, and that’s great, but … I think you should tell the authorities now. Caramel isn’t your responsibility, and the other one definitely isn’t – you shouldn’t get in too deep!’

  But I am already in too deep, and there is no turning back.

  By the time I’m up and dressed, Tanglewood is in chaos. As usual, my sisters are so wrapped up in their own lives they barely notice me at all, and Mum and Paddy are interviewing people from the village to help them fill the big chocolate order. Even if I did want to confide in them, I doubt if they’d have time to listen. They either fuss over me as if I am three years old or else barely notice I’m alive. Right now, though, all this is working to my advantage – nobody except Cherry has the slightest idea I’ve been up to anything.

  The interviews are all done by midday, and we gather round the kitchen table for a healthy brunch. Even Honey has made an effort and put in an appearance, smiling and helpful, doing her best impression of the perfect daughter.

  We feast on fresh fruit and yoghurt, then Mum’s special eggs Florentine, a poached egg, spinach and mushroom combo that everybody loves. Our meals are extra healthy these days because of Summer’s eating disorder – although she doesn’t eat very much of anything, just picks at her fruit and manages a few forkfuls of poached egg. We are not allowed to mention this in case it makes her feel bad and makes her eat even less, but trust me, it is not easy watching your beautiful sister surviving on strawberries and fresh air. Apparently the twice-a-week day clinic is helping her get back into healthier eating patterns, but I can’t see an awful lot of progress myself. Mum says that battling an eating disorder takes time.

  Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if nobody had noticed what Summer was doing, if she’d packed her bags and headed off to dance school this September as she was supposed to. Even the thought of it scares me half to death.

  ‘We need you girls to be patient, these next few weeks,’ Paddy is saying, helping himself to a slice of toast. ‘Charlotte and I will be working flat out to get this chocolate order sorted, so things could be hectic. We’ll need you all to bear with us.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Skye says. ‘We’ll all help.’

  ‘Just tell us what needs doing,’ Summer agrees, and I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from pointing out the irony of my anorexic sister offering to help out with the chocolate business. It’s kind of sick.

  Mum pours more orange juice. ‘I think we have the production side of things pretty much covered,’ she says. ‘We’ve signed up enough part-time workers to do three shifts a day, morning, afternoon and evening. If things go according to plan we should be able to meet the order in time and get those chocolates on the shelves by the end of the month. Paddy and I will be busier than usual, but there are no B&B bookings over the next couple of weeks, and we won’t take any more until all this is over, so …’

  ‘So it’s just us,’ Cherry states. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll manage fine. We were OK while you two were on honeymoon, weren’t we?’

  That’s not strictly true – Grandma Kate came over to keep an eye on us back then. Besides, Summer’s freaky food phobia started while Mum and Paddy were away in August, and Honey used their absence as an excuse to go off the rails again. She almost burnt the stable block down one night and Summer had to go to hospital with smoke inhalation, although they did find out about her eating disorder while she was there so it wasn’t all bad.

  Still, I am not sure the honeymoon is a good example of us managing on our own.

  Mum seems to agree. ‘Well,’ she frowns, ‘it won’t be quite like that. Paddy and I will be busy, but we’re right here if you need us. I’ll be running Summer to and from Exeter to the clinic as usual. You girls come first!’

  Her eyes flicker over Summer, who is cutting a grilled tomato into careful quarters, spearing a few swirls of spinach but not actually eating anything.

  ‘We’ll be fine, Mum,’ Summer says quietly.

  ‘Sure you will,’ she says brightly. ‘I’ve stocked up the freezer, but you might have to keep a check that you’ve got clean clothes for school and shout out if you need anything. We’ll all muddle through. Right?’

  ‘Right,’ Honey says. ‘Don’t stress, Mum. It’s only for a couple of weeks – no hassle! The place will run like clockwork, I’ll see to that.’

  Mum smiles. ‘I know you will, Honey,’ she says. ‘We’re so pleased with your report – just look what you can achieve when you try! I’m so proud of you!’

  ‘Whatever,’ my big sister says, her cheeks flushing pink, either with modesty or guilt. ‘I just want you to know you can rely on us to cope with stuff here. OK, you lot?’

  ‘OK,’ I chime in with my sisters. ‘No worries.’

  Honey, Cherry and Skye look unconcerned, but I notice that Summer’s eyes are shadowed with uncertainty. Me, I can’t help thinking that dealing with two rescued ponies will be a whole lot easier while Mum and Paddy are run off their feet. The busier they are, the less likely they are to notice my comings and goings.

  I take a deep breath.

  ‘I’m going down to the village in a bit,’ I say casually. ‘To see Jayde and Amy. Is that OK?’

  Cherry shoots me a questioning look, but I avoid her eyes and Mum just nods and tells me to make sure I’m not too late back, to call if I need a lift. I promise I will, but of course I won’t need a lift because I’m not going to see my friends, I’m going up to the derelict cottage. I have already hidden my bike down behind the gypsy caravan, my rucksack dangling from the handlebars, stuffed with hay and apples.

  I am not sure when I got to be so good at lying. It’s like I am turning into a mini version of my big sister, only with save-the-whale tendencies and flatter shoes. Honey is turning over a new leaf, while I am flinging myself headlong into a whole lot of trouble. I have never been afraid to stand up for animals, but even I know stealing ponies is serious. It makes baking cakes to raise money for the pandas look like kid’s stuff.

  After brunch, I curl up in the oak tree to play my violin, but I can’t concentrate; my mind is full of stolen ponies, angry landowners, surly boys. I check my watch, killing time until I can set off for t
he derelict cottage. I am kicking at the red-gold foliage, anxious, edgy, when Honey walks across the grass wearing a cute print minidress, mustard-coloured tights and high-heeled, lace-up boots. She leans up against the tree trunk, and takes a compact mirror out of her bag to paint on scarlet lipstick and shimmery gold eyeshadow.

  Watching all this through the branches, I can’t help thinking she is taking an awful lot of trouble to look cool and pretty for a girl who is grounded until Christmas.

  Maybe I was wrong about the new-leaf thing?

  ‘Going somewhere nice?’ I ask, and Honey yelps, dropping her eyeshadow into the grass.

  ‘Coco, you are such a freak,’ she huffs, scooping it up and stuffing it into her handbag. ‘What is it with you and trees? Are you actually part monkey?’

  ‘Stop changing the subject,’ I say. ‘I thought you were grounded?’

  ‘I’m just going down to Anthony’s,’ she tells me. ‘Mum knows, and she says it’s fine. He’s helping me with my calculus homework, OK? I want to get good grades.’

  I frown. Anthony is Kitnor’s only teen maths and computer genius, one of those slightly eccentric boys who still lets his mum cut his hair in a little-boy bowl haircut and never seems to notice that his shirt tails are hanging. I think he has a bit of a crush on Honey, but it’s definitely a one-way thing.

  Besides, Honey doesn’t look like she’s dressed to walk down to the village to study calculus.

  ‘Is Anthony your boyfriend now then?’ I ask, swinging my legs just above her head.

  ‘That’s sick!’ she squeals, outraged. ‘Of course he isn’t. I’m just studying, OK? Nothing else.’

  She picks her way across the grass and I hear the gate creak as she steps out on to the lane, the clack-clack of her high-heeled boots on tarmac. As I listen, a car draws up blaring music and voices call out, laughing, telling Honey to jump in. ‘Shhh!’ I hear her hiss. ‘My little sister is lurking about – keep the noise down! I’m grounded, remember!’