 
Destiny

by E P Parr

Copywrite©2014Eddie Peter Parr

DISCLAIMER

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

(Please excuse any literary mistakes as I am not a professional writer)

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Dedicated to my Grandchildren

Shannon, Aneira, Olivia and Ryan

THANKS FOR BELIEVING IN ME

Lin, Ritchie

MEMORIAL

Mum. Dad, Trevor, Michelle, Robin Williams and Beloved Jadeyboo

May you all R.I.P

Dedication

I dedicate this book to everyone with a dream

I hope one day you will shine like a diamond

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER4

CHAPTER5

CHAPTER6

CHAPTER7

CHAPTER8

CHAPTER9

CHAPTER10

CHAPTER11

CHAPTER12

CHAPTER13

CHAPTER14

CHAPTER15

CHAPTER16

CHAPTER17

CHAPTER ONE

THE RESCUED PONY

The sun shone down over the golden rape seed fields in the heart of England, as a bright red post van made its way along the tight country lanes, weaving its way across the open countryside on its way to deliver mail and packages to the small villages of rural England, Ritchie held on tightly to the steering wheel of the old post van as he bumped over the hollow dips and mounds of the many potholes in the road, splashing his way through the muddy puddles left behind by the previous nights' storm.

Turning the steering wheel gently he slowly drove around the blind corner towards the widening main road, speeding up a little as he approached the hump back bridge, driving over it quickly, making Ritchie's' stomach churn like a roller coaster ride at a fairground, he beamed like a child, the sensation jolting him into a happier frame of mind. There had been quite a deluge the night before, some of the small streams in the villages had broken their banks, approaching the flooded ford, Ritchie carefully finds his way across, splashing slowly through the water to the other side, and making it across safely he followed the slow "S" bends out of the village to the next call of his delivery.

The young man had worked as a postman for the Royal Mail for many years, his family were well known in the area , his father Kevin and mother Sarah had run the local post office in the small village ever since the day he was born. Living in the post office all his life made it almost inevitable that he would eventually follow in his father's footsteps as time passed that's exactly what he did. Ritchie enjoyed the freedom being a postman gave him, though the job was difficult at times, delivering in all kinds of weather, he would not change his job for the world. He covered a large area, travelling many miles along the country roads, in his reliable bright red van.

He loved the way people reacted, as he gave out parcels, packets and letters from near and sometimes afar places; he was a lifeline of communication to those who lived in some very secluded out of the way places. The postman had become the only contact to the outside world many of the elderly people had, he was more like a care assistant, come social worker at times, helping them to fill out forms , listening to their ills and woes, after all helping people was just part of his giving nature. Even though he had witnessed many unsettling things, he coped with them well, never once thinking of himself but others.

Being a postman had always meant an early start to the day for Ritchie, his eyes looked much like a panda bear some days but it also meant an early finish, in the summertime it gave him plenty of time to enjoy a little fishing with his old friend Charlie Dapple, one of his favourite pass times. Rising up the steep hill Ritchie approached the local riding school run by an ex ballet dancer Mrs Bulmer, she was somewhat of a local hero to many people, mainly for all the charity work she had done for the local disabled children in the area and many other children from all around the country.

They called her the local Diana, she looked very much like the late Princess of Wales but a fair bit older, she had many of her fine attributes and traits, a giver of herself and a very charitable lady, she invested her time in the development and wellbeing of the disabled, Mrs Bulmer had become like a welcoming beacon of light to the cause of the young disabled people everywhere, she was always up for a challenge, she never gave up the fight to help them, "Believe in yourself", was her motto, she practised what she preached and was resolute in all things, she would rather go down with a fight than give up, at all costs.

The stable was her life, she dedicated every second of the day to it, much to her own detriment having never married and having no children, her main concern for others overruled her own needs and wants, she had a very generous nature, not financially but emotionally, giving not only her time but giving herself completely to a very good cause, what you saw was what you got, she was not pretentious or fake in any way, to be completely honest she would of made a crap, useless, MP or politician. She was always direct , answered a question not avoided it, she never made up lame excuses or pointed the finger at anyone else , most of all, she never made a u- turn or went back on her word, she was resolute and as straight as a die.

Quite often many locals wanted to put her name forward to be nominated as the local MP, she refused point blank, saying "You kidding, I like people and they like me , I would want it to stay that way, thank you very much, but no thank you". On occasion Mrs Bulmer would take in rescued ponies passed on by the RSPCA or from people who could no longer afford to maintain them as the cost of doing so was very expensive indeed, her pride and joy was a rescued dapple grey pony she had come across by accident.

It all began one day when Mrs Bulmer's Cavalier King Charles Jade died, she was very old in dog years being fourteen was a ripe old age for a Cavalier, Mrs Bulmer was missing her so badly she had become distraught, she seemed lost without her, the local church mason had even made a memorial and he erected it at the stable yard. As time went by she thought it would be a good idea to acquire herself a young puppy, Mrs Bulmer was a very practical woman, a logical thinker, thinking that if she was too busy training a new puppy, she would not be able to dwell on her loss so much, maybe having a new dog would lift her spirits at the same time.

Mrs Bulmer travelled many miles to the dog breeder's home, arriving at the kennel with great anticipation, her expectations were high, hoping to find the perfect puppy for her to train and keep her company, nothing could ever replace her beloved Jade, but it would fill the empty space the precious Cavalier had left in her heart. Approaching the main gate the wide wheeled Range Rover bumped over the cattle grid effortlessly, gripping deep into the loose shingle the powerful vehicle drove effortlessly down the bumpy lane as the vehicle meandered along the narrow winding dirt track, two dogs suddenly darted out from the bushes and began escorting her up the long dusty driveway, the two Rottweiler's were barking very loudly at her arrival, in their excitement they almost ran under the bouncing wheels of her Range Rover, hitting the break hard the vehicle screeched to a sudden halt as Mrs Bulmer made an urgent attempt to avoid the manic animals. Mrs Bulmer sat looking down over the steering wheel seething, taking a deep intake of breath, she composed herself, watching the two out of control dogs chasing each other around the driveway like idiots, and apparently oblivious to their near death experience and the very lucky escape they just had.

An old scruffy lady stood leaning cross legged against the doorway of a huge barn smoking a cigarette, exhaling the poisonous toxins into the air she removed the cancer stick from her lips then flicked the smoking nail of death to the ground and continued to stamp the life out of it with her bright green wellington boot until it was extinguished. Raising two fingers to her cracked, dry blistered lips, she whistled, then shouted out very loudly, "Boys", as she clapped her hands against her thighs, the dogs continued chasing each other, disappearing in to some overgrown long grass, as if the woman didn't even exist at all, totally ignoring her loud demanding voice. She stood on the driveway with a very annoyed expression on her face, shouting out loudly in anger, "You bleeding dogs, you just wait, you bloody little shits" as she raised her head, tightly clenching her fist she shook it towards the sky. Mrs Bulmer watched the woman rage on at the uncontrollable animals, "Nice", she thought to herself as the woman cussed and swore, not impressed at all by her gesturing antics and her total lack of control. It appeared the dogs were not only dangerously reckless and stupid; they appeared deaf as well they certainly didn't seem to care about the old woman. Mrs Bulmer began tapping the steering wheel with the palms of her hands, she watched as the old hag came walking towards her picking the wax from her ear, releasing her tight grip on the steering wheel Mrs Bulmer shuffled across the driver's seat and climbed out of the vehicle, stepping down onto the overgrown driveway she slammed the door shut, walking carefully over the pitted, uneven bumpy ground.

The old woman stood with her hand, resting on the handle of an old broken wheel barrow, it was filled with very dry clay soil, a few dead flowers, tufts of dried out grass and poking out of the split cracked wooden panel was a long dried out root, looking as if it was in search of a drink of water which never came. Mrs Bulmer looked the old lady up and down as she slowly approached her, rubbing her ear wax covered finger into her dirty old apron, Mrs Bulmer removed her leather driving glove; pausing for thought she put the leather glove back on, pulling it back firmly into place over her long slender hand,. Mrs Bulmer reached out politely to greet the odd looking woman and introduced herself, the old lady sniffed, wiped the back of her hand over her dripping nose and said, "Well I suppose you're the woman who phoned me earlier for a puppy, follow me," Mrs Bulmer was taken aback by the stench of strong alcohol and urine and the old lady's rude abrupt behaviour towards her, leaving her feeling cold like an unwelcome visitor as she walked away mumbling something under her foul stale breath.

" How uncouth, ignorant, rude woman," Mrs Bulmer cringed as some kind of black legged insect crept through the woman's greasy, grey matted hair, stopped, then scurried away, disappearing under her tightly fitted head scarf. Plodding ahead of her into the old ramshackle barn the old woman's green oversize wellington boots made a squelching sound as she walked ahead of her with a slow manly gait across the soggy straw covered concrete floor; rocking her shoulders in an unladylike fashion she walked across the barn towards two large rusty wire cages sitting on top of a heavy metal workbench. Adjusting her tightly fitting headscarf, she stopped, sniffed out loudly then removed a rusty old key from the pocket of her red frilly edged polka dot apron. Rubbing the dirty pink woollen sleeve of her moth hole ridden cardigan over her bulbous dripping red nose, she said,

"Here they are my love, all have been weaned, little buggers don't need their mother anymore, so you can pick between anyone of them, just choose the one you like my pet".

Mrs Bulmer looked at the un kept odd smelling woman and nodded her head, "O.K.", as one by one the woman grabbed hold of the whining little pathetic looking puppies and dragged them out of the cages by the scruff of their necks, heavily plonking them down onto the greasy metal work top. Mrs Bulmer looked on with a disagreeable look on her face, holding up her gloved hand she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. The old lady noticed her tearful reaction, "Yes, the little sods do have that effect on some people, damn things are bloody cute aren't they," Watching the heaving heap of young puppies scrambling about on the dirty worktop, Mrs Bulmer bit her lip and said nothing at all, as the leather glove tightened around her shaking hand, she clenched her fist tightly as her blood began to boil, feeling nothing but contempt for the cold excuse for a woman who stood there before her. Grabbing hold of one of the unloved puppies the old woman squeezed its' belly tightly, it yelped out painfully as she asked, "Would you like to pick one my dear", stepping forward towards the workbench Mrs Bulmer looked at the whimpering puppy in her hand, saying quietly, "May I," gently she picked up the doe eyed, floppy eared ball of fluff , kissed it on the cheek and began stroking it behind the ears, she smiled as the moisture in her tearful eyes glistened in the half-light coming in from the broken window giving away her heart felt emotions.

The uncaring woman slumped up against an old wooden hay wagon, rolling a cheap cigarette and coughing her lungs out, lifting up her red floral skirt, picked a flea of her thigh and pinched the life out of it, "Damn bleeding flea ridden dogs," as she coughed up a lump of something nasty from her throat, spitting it out onto the dirty cracked concrete floor. Mrs Bulmer winced as she stepped over the thick green sticky gob as she made her way closer towards the toxic woman and asked to see the pedigree papers for the puppy she was holding safely in her gentle hands. The old woman placed the badly made cigarette to her lips, scratching a red tipped match against the metal rim of the old wagon wheel, lit the long loose strands of tobacco poking out of the tatty end of her rolled up cigarette. Playing another game of Russian roulette, she drew the nicotine into her blackened lungs, exhaled the strong smelling poisonous gas, contaminating the clean air around her. Pushing her back up against the hay wagon she uncrossed her legs and looked up grinning with the anticipation of a sale, just about articulated between her intermittent coughing fit "Alright darling- I'll be back in a minute my luv- I'll just go and find them papers- for you,". Mrs Bulmer returned to the workbench, she watched as the old woman who fell out of the ugly tree walked off out of the barn coughing her guts out, wondering if she would even make it to the barn door yet alone last another day. One by one she began to closely examine all the puppies in front of her as they milled around, nuzzling each other as if searching for the emotional comfort and the warmth they never had. The puppies whined as Mrs Bulmer picked them up in her caring hands, taking a closer look at the little fluff balls, noticing all their fur was wet and very matted, many of the puppies where covered in fleas, very dehydrated and generally in a very bad state of health. Their neglect and lack of hygiene was obvious, it appeared these poor little puppies where just a money making device to keep the woman well stocked in alcohol and cigarettes, she certainly didn't use the money to maintain herself, yet alone the property or anything else for that matter.

Mrs Bulmer's attention was drawn away from the puppies by a very faint sound coming from the far side of the barn; one by one, she gently returned the puppies back to their cages, she closed the rusty old catch, whispering, "Don't worry my little loves I'm here now, I'll be back soon". Listening intently to her surroundings, trying to pinpoint the sounds direction she began slowly moving carefully around the cluttered space of the dilapidated barn. Stepping over a pile of broken glass and debris scattered across the slippery soiled floor, she followed the faint sound, Mrs Bulmer felt something run across her foot, a big brown rat scurried across the cold damp concrete disappearing under a pair of old woodworm infested broken barn doors. Steadying her footing as she tripped over the wooden handle of an old metal hay rake; she splashed her way across the shallow puddles of water leaking onto the floor from the stop valve hanging loosely from the wall. Peering into the distance she homed in on the sound coming from a well shaded corner of the barn, a cloud of vapour seemed to be rising through the half-light, creeping closer she climbed over a low brick wall towards the sound of a loud snort and a quiet whinnying sound, just making out the outline shape of something moving in the broken shadows. Moving steadily closer, stepping cautiously over an unravelled coil of razor wire, stumbling on the rubble beneath her feet she stepped into the shadows, to her surprise lying amongst a heap of dust and bricks was a pathetic looking pony, it seemed disturbed by her presence as its eyes widened with fear and its' body began to tremble. Creeping upon her knees through the foul smelling stench of wet straw, tentatively making her way closer and closer towards the extremely nervous animal she whispered words of encouragement into the darkness, acknowledging her kindness the pony tried weakly to lift up its' head as Mrs Bulmer rested it upon her lap and stroked it, caressing the ponies neck she began speaking quiet words of comfort in its ear.

Looking up she felt a lump rise in her throat as a sudden shaft of light broke through the shadows, illuminating a leather whip hanging upon the wall studded with nails, covered in what appeared to be blooded horse hair, beneath it on the floor was a rusty old dented bucket containing what appeared to be scraps of rotting food. The marks on the pony's body appeared to match exactly the pattern of nails on the whip; comparing the open cuts and welts along its' flanks, it would have been a strange coincidence if they weren't created by them. Mrs Bulmer's' sapphire blue eyes began to well up as she felt the pony's ribs protruding out of its emaciated body. Softly speaking, she comforted the pony, trying to reassure it that very soon all its' suffering would all be over, in her mind she had decided it already was. How could someone be so cruel, to neglect yourself is bad enough but to neglect a poor defenceless creature was beyond Mrs Bulmer's' comprehension, what planet did these kind of people come from she thought to herself, sadly it was called planet earth. The pony was totally exhausted, each breath it took appeared to be an effort as it breathed heavily upon Mrs Bulmer's' lap, she looked compassionately into the pony's almost lifeless eyes, stroking the horses neck she whispered tenderly into its ear, "Don`t worry my sweet I`m here now, soon all this will all be over", the pony pricked up its ears as if understanding, sighed a very heavy sigh. Each laboured breath seemed to be an effort for the poor neglected pony, Mrs Bulmer realised that action was required immediately, switching off her heart felt emotions, she took command of her inner feelings, went into practical mode, then determinedly said to herself , "This means business", slowly getting up from the sodden straw covered concrete she looked down at the pony and smiled as she wiped away her last tear, "Time for action my dear I will be seeing you again very shortly, I promise", she said in a very commanding voice.

Once Mrs Bulmer's fuse was lit she became like a loose cannon and a powerful force to be reckoned with, if anyone rattled her cage, no matter who they thought they were then God help them from her wrath. Placing her hand, firmly on top of the wall she vaulted it effortlessly, removing her leather glove she slapped it against her thigh then marched towards the silhouette of the old woman standing by the open sunlit barn door as she waved the pedigree papers in the air like a mad tick tack man on a race course. With a very determined expression on her face Mrs Bulmer barged her way past the puzzled old woman as the old hag turned and chased after the resolute woman on a mission, shouting, "The papers, what about the papers", Mrs Bulmer patronisingly shouted back, "Don't worry my sweetheart, I'll be back my love, see you later darling", gritting her teeth she left the barn with nothing but a feeling of contempt and resentment towards the uncaring woman, knowing soon she would be getting her comeuppance.

Making her way back to her Range Rover, she jumped inside the vehicle then turned on the ignition key, the song War by Edwin Star blasted loudly out of the radio, crunching the gearshift into place Mrs Bulmer put her foot down hard, gunned the accelerator and sped off down the bumpy driveway, leaving a hail of shingle flying in the air and a very annoyed, confused woman standing in a cloud of choking dust behind her. Driving at speed Mrs Bulmer recovered her composure, lowered the volume on the radio, eased off the accelerator then took in several deep breaths and calmed down as she thought about her plan of action. Pulling over onto a dry grass verge she hit the brake hard, screeching the Range Rover to a sudden stop, she ratcheted on the hand break, leaving a trail of skid marks in her wake. Looking over her shoulder she began searching around the interior for her handbag, finding it she pulls the zip of her very modest handbag then begins rummaging around inside it looking for her mobile phone. Half emptying the contents of the well filled bag onto the passenger seat she eventually finds her archaic Matrix phone picks it up and slides back the cover, scrolling through her contacts list eventually finds the number she was looking for, hits the call button, the monotonous dialling tone seemed to go on forever as Mrs Bulmer tapped her fingers on the dashboard she impatiently waited for someone to pick up the phone.

Eventually the call was answered by the very deep calming tones of a Welshman on the other end of the line, "Chris Thomas speaking, Valley RSPCA, can I help you". "Hello Chris it's me Mrs Bulmer, long time since I have called, sorry, but I have a bit of a very urgent problem at the moment can you help", Mr Thomas seemed very concerned as Mrs Bulmer was not one to require assistance at the best of times, as normally their communications were only for charity or social events and the like.

"Anything for you Mrs B, what is the problem how can I help"? Mrs Bulmer explained in detail the serious situation then gave Mr Thomas the name and address of the perpetrator. "I will get on to it right away Mrs B, I will call the local police and I will make my way there as soon as possible, don't worry I will soon sort this out in no time, I will give you a call later". Mrs Bulmer seemed relieved as they said their goodbyes on the phone as she knew Chris was a very diligent RSPCA officer, he would not leave any stone unturned in his investigation.

Later that day Chris Thomas arrived at the dog breeders home, driving his four by four and pulling a large horse box trailer, escorted by two burly police officers in their police car, slowly the two vehicles made their way up the driveway as the pair of Rottweiler hounds from hell dived out of the bushes, rushing headlong towards them, narrowly dodging the front ends of the oncoming vehicles, barking loudly they manically chased the rear wheels of the police car as Chris Thomas followed them up the bumpy un kept driveway, watching the two rather surprised police officers looking over their shoulders at the dogs crazy antics.

Chris pulled up behind the police car, he watched the two ferocious dog's clawing away at the drivers' side of the police vehicle he turned off the ignition, levered the handbrake and slowly opened his drivers' door, moving around to the back of his four by four, stepped over the tow bar then lifted up the tail gate, retrieving two long aluminium poles, each had a sliding hoop of nylon rope attached to one end. Walking cautiously over towards the passenger side of the police car, Chris gestured to the frightened police officer inside to get out of the car, stepping outside the vehicle, Chris offered up one of the poles to the officer, saying quietly, "Just watch me Rob, follow everything I do, keep a poles length away from him, just in case the little bugger goes for you, alright chap"? The rather uncertain policeman watched at a distance as Chris approached the drivers' side of the vehicle, both of the snarling dogs oblivious to him as they continued to bark at the nervous police officer inside the vehicle. Lifting the pole gently above the head of the more aggressive dog, Chris lowers the nylon loop around the dogs' neck and slowly tightens it like a noose as the dog throws itself backwards in a frenzy, desperately trying to escape the brave RSPCA officers tight grip as he wrestles with it, eventually winning the fight and gaining complete control over the domineering dog, calmly leads the aggressive dog to the back of his 4 x 4, opens the wire cage door and safely locks it inside out of harms way.

The burly policeman stood nervously trying desperately to lower the noose around the wild dog's neck, snapping its teeth like a rabid animal the dog snarled at him, as he got closer to the crazed animal. Biting his lip he found the courage to lasso it as he hurriedly tightened the rope, struggling desperately the police officer tried to find himself some footing, digging in his heels deep to anchor himself into the loose gravel beneath his feet, in his haste and panic, Rob slipped and fell awkwardly to the floor. The fearless dog powerfully fought off the police officer's desperate attempts to restrain it, shaking his head the determined animal forced the pole from the officers hand and made its' escape with the noose still attached around its' neck it ran off up the driveway dragging the pole through the long grass behind him. "What the bloody hells going on ere", screamed the old woman as the dog bolted past her like a greyhound chasing a rabbit and disappeared around the corner and into the bushes.

Chris and the two policemen made a slow approach over the uneven gravel path towards the angry screaming woman; introducing themselves to the annoyed woman as she stood regimentally straight with her arms crossed in a very defiant way." So what's bloody going on, I ain't done nothing wrong, so why you bleeding lot ere then", Chris pulled out his note book and pen saying very politely, "Hello madam, my names Chris Thomas, Valley RSPCA, I have a little concern over the welfare of some of the animals being kept on this property, you are" ? The seething woman took a wheezy breath, raked up some phlegm into the back of her mouth and spurted it out, accompanied by a torrent of insults, "Saunders, Sonia bloody Saunders and I bet that stuck up snotty bitch sent ya bloody bunch of tossers here didn't she, meddling bloody bitch" The policemen warned the disgruntled old woman to refrain from her foul language then showed her the search warrant for the premises and surrounding out buildings. Mrs Saunders just shrugged her shoulders, deliberately hacked back another mouthful of phlegm, then she disrespectfully spat it out, just missing the RSPCA officer's newly cleaned boots. Side stepping the green wad hanging from the patch of weeds growing up out the broken concrete Chris looked at the uncouth, foul mouthed woman with disgust then turned away and headed out towards some partly demolished outbuildings, Chris and the two policemen removed their hats ready for the task ahead as they made their way to the un kept barn not knowing what else their investigation would uncover.

The two police officers pulled back the stiff wonky barn doors and stood with their arms crossed, Chris entered behind them, taking out his pocket book he began to take notes concerning the case as he begins his search for any evidence which may be used in the event of the woman ever being taken to court. Being very diligent in his work no stone would be left unturned as he offered up a video camera and camera to the two police officers, he knew how important the evidence gathering process was and just how few people ever got prosecuted these days, it sickened him to the pit of his stomach as many cruel abusers got off scot free, all because something had been missed or overlooked during the investigation.

Stepping deeper in to the dusty gloom, Chris pulled out his torch, the powerful beam of light catching the many flying insects flitting about in the darkness as he scoured the area in search of the pony Mrs Bulmer had reported to him over the phone. Picking up a glint of reflected light from his torch he closes in towards something laying upon the floor in the half-light next to a broken water pipe, stepping over the layer of scattered glass upon the wet floor, the thick rubber soles of his boots protecting him as he crunched his way cautiously over broken shards beneath his feet. Slowly and deliberately Chris climbed over the low wall, placing the torch upon the top of the uneven surface he crouched down upon the soiled floor next to the very quiet still pony, reached out his hand towards the abused animal and stroked it. The pony had no reaction to his presence, it appeared he had arrived much too late, standing up he beckoned the two concerned police officers over towards him and they made their way cautiously across the cluttered floor towards him as they captured the whole scene digitally with their cameras, the old woman followed reluctantly, rolling another cheap cigarette appearing totally unconcerned and uninterested.

The police officers peered over the wall, Chris looked up to them saying, "Sorry you two, I think it's had it, seems we got here much too late, she's' dead", Mrs Saunders mumbled under her breath, "Bloody hell, what's he bleeding goin on about now", climbing over the wall in a very un-ladylike fashion she stood next to the pony, raising her green wellington boot she kicked it in the side, the pony seemed to wince and gave out a pitiful sound as it moved with the motion of her boot, "Bloody things foxing, nothing wrong with her, dopey thing was asleep". Chris sighed with relief as the pony reacted to the abusive woman, pulling out his notepad he jotted down a few details, luckily his digital camera was being held by one of the police officers who had snapped a few pictures, while the other had recorded the whole disgraceful scene on video. Returning back to his truck Chris checked on the sleeping Rottweiler to see if it was O.K. then climbing into the drivers' seat he drove across to the barn, the police officers put their weight against the heavy barn doors forcing them all the way open, allowing Chris the extra room to reverse his vehicle and horse trailer inside the dark and dingy barn.

Chris thought about his conversation with Mrs Bulmer over the phone earlier and how desperately she wanted to end the animals misery and suffering, weighing up the situation, he stood discussing his options for a while with the two police officers, explaining exactly what he was about to do and just why he had to do it, the old lady wasn't too happy about his proposal, shrugging her shoulders dismissively she eventually agreed to his request and nodded her approval. They all eventually decided on a plan of action, Chris didn't really trust the woman, no way was he going to be prosecuted for his actions as she appeared the type of woman who would get you hung for anything. Now with her full consent, Chris walked over to his truck, reached inside and picked up a very heavy sledge hammer and a thick woollen blanket, lowering his self out of the cab, resting the weighty sledge hammer and blanket across his broad shoulders he walked across the barn towards the helpless trembling pony. Carefully climbing over the wall, he crouched down and stroked the pony saying, "Don't worry my lovely, soon it will be all over" covering the ponies head with the blanket, Chris stood up with his legs astride the pitiful animal, he knew in his heart Mrs Bulmer would have agreed, it was for the best as he prepared himself, hoping he had the physical strength to do it. Lifting the heavy sledge hammer high above his head he gritted his teeth, with all the strength he could muster, swung the weighty hammer forcefully downwards, striking a very heavy blow, then lifting it up once more, swinging it even harder, he put his full weight behind it just for good measure. Chris stood back with a big smile on his face and looked across towards the upset old woman, feeling very pleased with his effort, she watched as the wall came tumbling down into a broken heap of rubble upon the floor, the blanket fully protecting the ponies head from the bits of sharp flying debris. Building up a sweat, Chris continued tirelessly in his effort to free the poor little pony from the confined space which had made it a prisoner for so long. Once the three officers cleared the area of all the glass and rubble, they concentrated their efforts on the rescue, placing a lead rope around the ponies head Chris gently tugged at it, as one of the police officers pushed from behind, Chris pleaded with the pony to get up onto its feet, the pony just stared into oblivion, again he tugged the lead rope, still no response. Chris was a fighter, he never gave up on anything, he was not going to let the pony get the better of him, he knew if she was up on her feet she had a fighting chance of surviving her ordeal, so it was do or die time if the pony stayed on the floor it would be game over. Chris would not let the pony die where it was, he became an RSPCA officer to help protect abused, defenceless animals from the likes of the Mrs Saunders of the world his job was to save animals lives and that was exactly what he was there to do.

Chris continued to coax the animal with his soothing deep welsh tone as he tried to encourage the animal up on to its feet, suddenly his gentle words were interrupted by the ear piercing sound of his Highway to Hell ringtone, screaming out from his mobile phone, spooking the weak pony, it miraculously staggered up onto its feet'. Chris was absolutely overwhelmed to see the pony standing up on her own, he lifted his head to the heavens, saying, "Thank you Bon Scott, thank you", the little pony nodded her head as if in agreement, wobbled unsteadily upon her feet, Chris lead her up the gentle slope of the ramp of the horse box, she swayed her tail as she walked awkwardly into the waiting trailer, coaxed by one very relieved happy policemen holding a bucket of fresh water.

The angry chain smoking Mrs Saunders paced up and down with her arms crossed swearing beneath her breath, looking well pissed off, throwing the unfinished roll up down on the floor stamped out the glowing cherry of her cigarette she watched on with daggers in her eyes as her favourite possession was being settled down in the back of the horsebox ready to be taken away. The scared pony looked over its shoulder nervously not knowing it was now safe from harm as Chris closed the tail gate of the horsebox, no more will it be forced to eat from a rusty old bucket, no more would it be abused and neglected, the resourceful Mrs Bulmer had come through on her promise, she was as good as her word, already the pony was in a much better place, now safe, out of harm's way, its' new life had already just begun.

It would not be an easy task to bring her back from the brink, this had been a near death experience, one you would not wish on anyone, the physical and psychological damage was severe and only a dedicated team of vets, stable hands and Mrs Bulmer's resilience would be up to the mountainous task, having many hours of sleepless nights, she certainly had her work cut out. With the right medication and perseverance the little dapple grey pony would eventually be back to full health, the physical effects of neglect could be resolved easily compared to the mental scares, most humans are stigmatised if they have mental problems and are normally shied away from in society like lepers, in extreme cases animals are put down.

Mrs Bulmer hoped and prayed for a miracle that the rescued pony would survive her past, hopefully leaving all the pain of her awful neglect behind her, as time moved on the insecure little pony began to physically heal, she began to trust people again, at times there was so much love in the room the poor little thing hardly had the space to move. They say the eyes are the window to the soul, then if that was truly the case the little pony was heavenly on the inside, with just one of her glances she could send a joyful tingle along any ones spine. She seemed to have an aura of calm serenity all around her, with a very loving nature and a quiet demeanour, the pony was very approachable and safe to be around, she was what they call the epitome of a bomb proof pony, one which Mrs Bulmer in all her years of training had never seen the like of before and doubted that she ever would see again. For all her trials and tribulations the pony appeared to have made a full recovery, only the pony knew for sure how it felt on the inside, Mrs Bulmer kept her more as a pet rather than a working pony, after all she had many other ponies at the stable, for some reason even she didn't understand, she knew inside that when the time was right the little dapple grey pony would be ready in her own mind and take its' next step. Mrs Bulmer refused to name her as the trauma the poor little mite had gone through could of killed her at any time, so to protect herself Mrs Bulmer always referred to her as "the rescued pony", or just "pony" for short, everyone at the yard understood her reasons for doing so, after all if she had died Mrs Bulmer would have struggled to forget her as she named all the ponies at the stable, knowing each and every one of them by their pet names.

Almost a year later, Mrs Saunders was prosecuted for the neglect and abuse at her stable not only for the recued pony but also for the deaths of 3 mares, a stallion and a foul left rotting in an open paddock where she kept 12 other abused ponies. Many of the geldings, colts and mares had suffered such ailments as open infected wounds, ulcers in their mouths, foot rot, severe dehydration, worms and diarrhoea, sadly they were all put down, all of her dogs and puppies were removed from the filthy kennels then re-homed.

Saunders was charged for 24 acts of abuse against the ponies alone, 6 regarding all the dogs at her puppy farm, Mrs Saunders admitted all charges in relation to the incidents involving all the horses and dogs at the local Magistrates court, she was sentenced to 24 weeks in prison which was suspended for two years then ordered to pay costs of £20,656 and a victim surcharge of some £80. Saunders was also given a six-month curfew, banned from keeping, transporting and participating in the keeping, transporting of horses for 15 years. Mrs Bulmer and Chris had attended the court case, their evidence had given the court a firm basis to work on as it was all irrefutable evidence, the video footage and still photos were so appalling for the court that some people became nauseous, made their excuses and left the courtroom to be sick. The final outcome was acceptable to a point but Mrs Bulmer would have had the woman band for life for keeping any form of livestock and never be allowed again near any animal but the judge had made his final decision, justice had been served. Even though Mrs Bulmer felt very differently, she had to accept the court's decision, though many animals had suffered and died she found solace in the fact that one pony had survived its' terrible ordeal at the hands of the remorseless Mrs Saunders , now the dapple grey roamed freely in the paddock of her stable.

Leaving the court with smiles on their faces, Chris and Mrs Bulmer walked into the bright sunshine, relieved that the horrid business was all over. Mrs Bulmer looked at the medal Chris wore proudly on his lapel of his uniform, he had been given it when he received a commendation for his work by the governing body of the RSPCA, he also became a bit of a local hero as the papers picked up on the story and spread the word of his good work and professionalism in bringing Mrs Saunders to justice.

Mrs Bulmer thanked Chris for all the hard work he had done as she congratulated him on his commendation before they both shook hands and said their final farewells. Mrs Bulmer climbed into her Range Rover, turned on the key and began to reverse slowly out of the parking bay, Chris pulled up next to her in his 4x4 and pressed the button to open the electric window on the drivers' side, smiling he turned up the volume of on his cd player and revved the guts out of the powerful engine, making the front wheels spin deep into the thick gravel, he waved cheekily, twiddling his fingers at Mrs Bulmer then shot off like a bullet towards the exit of the car park to the ear piercing sound of Bon Scott singing Highway to Hell, as he made his way to the main road smiling like a Cheshire cat, leaving a shell shocked , shaken police officer fumbling for his pocket book too late to take his number.
CHAPTER TWO

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

Ritchie waited patiently outside the entrance of Mrs Bulmer's riding school for the heavy traffic to clear, getting his cue from the open gap in the busy oncoming traffic, he crosses the main road, slowly pulling into the wide driveway, grunting along happily with Mungo Jerry's, In the Summertime playing on the radio. The newly fitted tyres on his mail van grip into the gravel as it crunches its' way along the tree lined driveway leading down towards the busy stable yard, finding a vacant parking space Ritchie parks up the mail van outside the small low white office building.

He wrenches up the handbrake, turns off the engine, grabbing hold of the door leaver he opens up the door; stepping out into the warm sunshine he stares up into the clear blue sky, stretches his arms and yawns. Ritchie's' legs felt rather stiff, so he began to walk around a bit, trying to release the tension in his aching joints, the driving position he had been stuck in all day had taken its toll, now he was feeling it, he hadn't felt this stiff since his last holiday in Japan, but that was another story entirely.

Walking over to the mail van he reaches his arm in through the passengers' side window, grabs hold of a bottle of spring water retrieving it from the very hot leather seat, opening it he takes a big lukewarm swig, his mouth had tasted like a miners armpit all morning long, the result of to many beers the previous night before and not having a decent breakfast before he left for work that day, the acid in his throat leaving a rather bitter taste in his mouth. Taking another swig he threw his head backwards, gargling away the nasty taste from the back of his mouth and spat out the remnants of last night's meal onto the dry gravel, just missing the metallic green fly he was aiming for. Placing the lid back on the bottle he screwed it on tightly then threw it down into the relative shade of the passengers' foot well wiping his mouth with the back of his tattooed hand, rummaging around his pocket he finds a pack of ant-acid tablets, crunches down hard on the tablet in hope of relieving his heartburn.

Leaning on the white railed fence, he raises his foot placing it on the bottom rail, fighting with the pack of sticky chewing gum stuck inside his back trouser pocket, he takes it out, tears the pack open begins prising the tacky sticks of peppermint apart and unwraps one, popping the long elastic strands of gum into his mouth in an attempt to refresh his taste buds just in case the tablet he had taken didn't do its' job. Feeling his tummy rumble he listened to his gargling stomach, the noisy thing had been giving him grief all day, he knew he should never of had another portion of vindaloo curry the previous night before and having the massive slice of black forest gateau was a bit naughty but he liked it too much now he was paying the price for his over indulgence. Chewing on the sticky peppermint gloop, he watched the young riders mounting up, Ritchie was amazed at how effortlessly the youngsters seemed to take charge of the horses, Ritchie couldn't even control his cat, let alone have the ability to control a horse, he was useless with animals, for some reason they never seemed to get along. Ritchie knew his place and it wasn't anywhere near animals, his pet fear was dogs, he hated dogs, he just couldn't stand them, Ritchie often thought he must of been a little bit of a masochist or a little unhinged, who in their right mind would take up a career as a Postman when they had a morbid fear of dogs, they often say you should face your fears to overcome them , Ritchie the village postman confronted his dog phobia every time he saw a "Beware dog", keep out sign on somebody's property and opened the gate. One particular day when he was out on his round, he got savagely bitten by an ankle biting Jack Russell terrier as he was pushing a bunch of letters through a spring loaded letterbox flap. The Jack Russell grabbed hold of his fingertips tightly, the thing just wouldn't let go, Ritchie pulled back his hand as hard as he could trying to release its' vice like grip, hearing a tiny yelp he tugged his hand, back even harder, with one final tug the dog let go, the well sprung letter flap snapped like a mousetrap on his bloodied fingertips. Reporting the incident back at the post office to his parents they insisted the owners should install a safety cage on the door or collect their own mail in future, the local police let the dogs' owner off with a mere caution, all Ritchie got for his trouble was a few stitches and a tetanus jab from a very attractive Asian lady doctor in his bum cheek, (bonus).

Ritchie once had a little black kitten, he called it Freddie Krueger as the damn thing use to scratch him all the time with its' razor sharp claws, quite often the little moggy use to hide from him, he couldn't find the damn thing anywhere at times, never knowing where she was, he wondered why he even had her as a pet as she often disappeared for days. Ritchie tried hard to form a bond by playing with the schizoid kitten, one day he came home from work, Freddie Krueger was ripping the settee apart as usual, so to grab her attention away from her mass destruction, he distracted her with a feather attached to a thin stick, the tiny kitten began to hiss and spit at him, then attacked the feather ferociously, missing her mark the kitten buried her claws deep into his face, the gash was so deep he had to have several stitches and another tetanus jab, Ritchie began to think he should draw a dartboard on his backside for the trainee nurses to practice on, as it seemed he had a tetanus jab nearly every other week because of some kind of animal attack.

After the day of Freddie Krueger's' vicious attack on him, Ritchie decided to get rid of the crazy cat once and for all, every time he looked in the shaving mirror at the deep scars on his face it just made him angrier with the darn thing. The last straw came the day the destructive kitten of chaos tore up his expensive brand new Chinese silk curtains, Ritchie had just bought them trying to impress Xiang Ling his new internet girlfriend, he had invited down from Reading for their first real date and was going to prepare a really nice fish dinner for her, the kitten ruined it all, the dinner the wine and the new curtains. Ritchie was a great cook, looking somewhat like a younger version of the Gordon Ramsey but much better looking; he often wished he could be him as his passion for cooking ran as deep as his passion for women, he had learned all he knew about cooking just by watching his culinary hero on the TV. Ritchie decided to cook grilled tuna with tomato spaghetti for his main course of the evening, he had bought the finest ingredients he could find, while driving on his round, the local fishmonger provided the fresh tuna, he had travelled miles to buy the salad from one of the farmers markets he delivered to, Ritchie had gone well out of his way to make sure his dinner date would have the very best food he could find, weeks before he even purchased a very expensive bottle of white wine and had it shipped from a vineyard in France

Placing Maroon Five's Moves Like Jagger on one of the turn table decks of his hi fi, Ritchie presses the power on button, the distinctive duff sound of ignition pulses out of the speakers; cranking up the volume, he takes a cold beer out of the fridge, lost in a wall of sound he begins dancing across the floor like a demented version of Billy Elliot, chugging down the whole bottle of beer in one go he puts the empty bottle on top of the fridge.

Carried away by the music, Ritchie opened the fridge door, pulling out the strong smelling fish he spins round and misses the worktop, dropping the plate upon the floor, the kitten becomes curious, waiting like a coiled spring for its' chance to pounce on the fishy feast. Rinsing the soiled fish under the cold running tap, Ritchie rinses it well and puts it back on the worktop. Washing his fishy hands he turns around to get the hand towel of the towel rail, he looks up in disbelief, there standing up to her neck in salad, chewing away on the Tuna is Ritchie's' opportunistic kitten. Ritchie screams at her at the top of his voice, the startled cat bolted, knocking over the bottle of French wine, spilling its contents all over the floor. Jumping down off the worktop, Freddie the fish thief proceeded to lick up the very expensive spillage, the sozzled pussy totally ignoring Ritchie's attempts to shoo her away, that was it, Ritchie had enough, she had to go, he had to get rid of the pesky thing, after all she had ruined everything for him, it was not funny anymore.

Absolutely fuming he went to the pantry and picked up a brand, new hessian mail sack, then in a moment of complete rage stuffed the kitten inside the sack and tied it up with an old shoelace. Feeling rather tense the very wound up postman went outside to try and calm himself down; sitting on the garden wall he took in a few deep breaths of fresh air, thinking for a while, contemplating on his final decision. Spinning the ignition key around his finger he paced around for a while then opened the door to his van and climbed in taking off for a long drive to give him plenty of time to think. Taking the scenic route he followed the narrow track down to the river bank, he sat in the van tapping the steering wheel feeling very confused and mixed up in his thoughts. Making up his mind he got out of the van, locked the door securely behind him then took a slow walk down towards the towpath with the now condemned kitten kicking inside the hessian sack as he began to make his way to the eerie quiet of Dead Mans' lake.

Standing by the murky water he began to pace up and down, swaying the now urine stained mail sack back and forth in his tightly gripped hand, psyching himself up to do the unthinkable, his pent up anger was just about to get the best of him, when he heard a loud pathetic meow. Untying the shoe lace, he reached inside, fishing out the fluffy whimpering black kitten, holding it above the slimy green depths of the shimmering water he looked at its; cute little face and its' trembling body, then kissed it goodbye. Pulling back his arm he prepared to do the dirty deed and throw the quivering kitten into the dingy lake. The overhanging branches above him began to creak as the wind picked up; the unsettling atmosphere feeling so close he could almost touch it as the hairs on his neck stood up he felt a cold chill run down his back as a sudden gust of wind howled around Dead Mans' Lake, the disquieting sound sending a cold shiver down his spine. Just as he was ready to unburden himself, through the rustling leaves he heard a faint whispering voice, as if telling his conscience to stop and think about what he was about to do. His stomach sank like a lead balloon he began to feel nauseous, sickened and ashamed. Ritchie realised he just couldn't do it, full of remorse he held the kitten to his chest, fell to his knees and screamed out "I'm Sorry", the sorrowful sound breaking the eerie silence of Dead Man's Lake. Ritchie was not only feeling bad for the kitten but also for the memory of the poor little soul who had become lost in the dark and drowned there in the murky waters of the lake so many years ago.

Strolling along with the empty hessian sack over his shoulder, stroking the kitten with his hand, he made his way back to his van in a happier frame of mind, he decided on a new strategy to find the kitten a good home. Ritchie got back in his van, setting off along the main road, the contented kitten lay curled up in a ball sleeping next to him on the passengers' seat, his guilt made him wonder how the hell could he face the poor little thing again especially after what he had attempted to do.

Ritchie's' easiest way out was to leave the kitten in a place where someone could easily find her, thinking she was lost or abandoned , suddenly he had a brain wave, "Charlie", smiling to himself he headed back towards the village.

Pulling up outside the back entrance to Dapples bakery, Ritchie sneaked into the garden and put the kitten down in the middle of the orchard, then sat around in his van for a while listening to the radio, stuffing his face with a pork pie as he waited to see if his plan would work. Watching from a distance he noticed Charlie's granddaughter Rose sitting upon the lawn picking daisies, singing to herself as she often did.

Rose sat contented and happy, lost deep in an imaginary little world of her own make believe, suddenly her thoughts were disturbed by a strange sound, out of the corner of her eye she spied a small black shape which seemed to be moving about in the bushes, it seemed a little strange, it had never been there before. Standing up Rose held her index finger to her chin as she looked across the garden with a quizzical look on her face, "Hmm", she pondered in thought for a second, wondering if she should investigate the odd shape that had appeared apparently from nowhere. Slowly, she moved forward as she found the courage to check out what it was, sneaking very tentatively towards it, she held her breath trying to be totally silent, inch by steady inch she crept up on the object waiting in the dark shadows of the laurel bush, crouching down on all fours she lowered herself on to her belly and crawled on her elbows, silently like a lioness in search of its prey. Upon closer observation Rose saw a bushy black tail moving like the lure on the end of a fishermen's' line beckoning her towards the thick lime green foliage.

"What could it be ?" she thought to herself, as the black fur found a voice, "Meow" Rose stood up , brushed aside the branches as she saw a small black cat, its fur as black as her raven hair. Rose picked up the cute little ball of black fluff, pampering the little lost soul she made her way back through the orchard to the bakery, wondering how it had got into the orchard in the first place. Looking up Ritchie noticed Rose Dapple walking along the garden path, carrying a very well behaved kitten under her arm, puzzled by its' apparent good behaviour he smiled broadly, realising the kitten was now in safe hands he started the engine and made his way back home.

The whole day had left him feeling shattered and tired out, he wondered if the evening would be any better than the day he had just gone through, Ritchie kicked off his shoes and stretched out on his comfy couch smiling to himself with great expectations for a romantic evening to come, he hadn't had a good leg over for ages, sometimes he felt like a born again virgin. Ritchie had always been a bit of a lad and had a thing about slim black haired Asian women; he thought them to be so attractive they seemed more feminine and less demanding than western women. Turning on his home built Mame Arcade Machine he selected Samurai Showdown from the games list helping him to unwind from his stressful day. Finishing off his game session with a few levels on R-Type his favourite space shooter he gave the Bydo empire a good blasting, placing a Niel Young album on his deck decided to run a bath; leaving the bathroom door open he jumped into the hot bath water and chilled out to the relaxing sound of Old Man. After a long soak, he had a shave, splashed on some after shave then got dressed; putting on his favourite Bruce Lee T shirt and a pair of stonewashed jeans he put his feet up on the couch and waited for Xiang Ling to arrive. Ritchie sprang out of his seat as the doorbell rang with an ear piercing strangled sound as the batteries died a slow screeching death. Answering the door with a very embarrassed look on his face Xiang Ling stood with her arms crossed smiling, "Thats' different", Ritchie apologised for the ear splitting sound, invited her inside with her chaperone friend from Reading college, Xiang Ling said it was a tradition in her country to bring a friend along as he was a total stranger; after all he could have been Ted Bundy for all she knew. Ritchie made them both welcome, offered them a coffee , played a few tunes, before he called a Taxi, to take them all down to, "The Jade Dragon" restaurant in the village. Once there Ritchie introduced them both to the English traditional dish of fish and chips, followed by a few pints of ice cold Cornish Scrumpy Cider. Returning home feeling rather merry the happy trio all stumbled through the front door, both girls collapsed onto the sofa while Ritchie pulled out three glasses, filling them with a mix of Kraken with Coke he added a slice of lime, so intoxicating was the infusion it got them well and truly smashed, until they all eventually blacked out into the alcoholic land, of oblivion.

The next day Ritchie woke to an empty bed with a thumping head ache, covered in love bites, with no memory of the night before, Xiang Ling had left a note on his bedside table with the imprint of two red lip shaped marks on it, "Naughty boy Ritchie, can we all do it again next week, love Xiang , Yu.

Ritchie shook his head in disbelief, everything had turned out far much better than he had expected, even though he couldn't remember it, he just hoped Xiang Ling didn't turn out to be a lady boy, as he expected anything could have been possible on that disastrous day, absolutely anything.

Ritchie chewed the last bit of flavour out of his gum, took it out of his mouth, wrapped it in the torn foil wrapper and put it in the large litter bin attached to the white fence post; he continued to enjoy the spectacle of the young riders going through their paces. He had played with the idea of riding a horse but the fear of falling put him off , he didn't relish the thought of landing on his backside and ending up in the local A and E department of the hospital with fractures and the like.

Mrs Bulmer had two rising stars at the stable, the young teenage riders appeared to be head and shoulders above the others at the riding school, one was a young one armed boy called Giles Meakin the other was Rose Dapple.

They had both met some four years previously when Roses grandparents arrived at the stable with their granddaughter, she had callipers fitted to her legs after falling out of a tall tree onto rusty razor wire, the terrible fall had caused severe trauma to her legs, resulting in her legs being twisted in a very awkward position. Rose found the callipers very painful to walk in and felt embarrassed when she went to school, as kind as people were, she often heard them talking behind her back, hearing comments about the poor little crippled girl made her feel awkward , inadequate.

She became very withdrawn and lonely, she never really associated with anyone outside of school, becoming more and more self-conscious and extremely insecure. Sadly months later she was rushed into the emergency ward because of septicaemia, causing many other complications due to the infection in her leg, eventually the open wound became gangrenous, sadly they had to amputate her leg to the knee, though twisted her other leg recovered well, fortunately for the young girl, she had suffered enough,, to lose the other limb would have been even more devastating.

Eventually Rose received a prosthetic leg, though uncomfortable at first she eventually learned to walk on it, in time Rose had become so proficient and managed so well that no one would have ever known she had lost a leg at all. She became to understand, that she could still manage to do things in life even with a disability, growing in confidence she realised that her life was not over, in reality it had only just begun.

Once Rose returned to school the bullies backed off and stopped having a go at her, rather turning their attention to a very petite, pretty girl called Rachel, it was always the timid, intelligent kids who became the targets the school bullies picked on, she shied away from most people, the lonely child often hid in the school toilets or found solitude in a quiet corner of the noisy playground most of the time, feeling helpless lost and alone.

The relentless bullies were almost religious to the cause, Rose was sure they must have read the bible or something, somewhere it said, "The meek shall inherit the earth", they did, a bloody great mouthful of it, every time they turned the other cheek like good Christians and were picked on in the school playground. Sadly Rachel ended up anorexic because of the incessant bullying, every day on the way home they would stick drawing pins in her back, pull her hair and call her a fat ugly bitch, the perpetual physical and verbal onslaught drove her to cut her hair with scissors, stick her fingers down her throat and sometimes she would not eat at all. Even though the teachers knew all about the situation they ignored Rachel's' single parents pleas for help, after all, a policeman friend of the school principles,' back punching, pin sticking child, wouldn't bully anyone would he.

The school principle Mr Don Gyvashyte, wrote a polite letter to her single parent explaining the lad in question had issues at home, they would help him resolve them as soon as possible, if the problem of bullying ever existed at the school they had systems set in place to deal with it, but at this time there were none. So the powers that be, at Low Down School, basically washed their hands of it, expelling the girl to a special unit for a short time where they placed the problem kids called "Albatross", throwing a lamb in with the wolves, she was made a sacrifice to keep a clean bullying record at the school, removing the problem from around their necks, leaving their record untarnished and blemish free.

Much later Rachel ended up in the same hospital where Rose received her treatment for her leg at the day centre, eventually they became very close friends and Rose began to visit her frequently in the ward she was in at the hospital. Finding strength in each other Rachel and Rose blossomed as they both came to terms with their ordeals, when Rachel and Rose returned back to Lowdown school after their treatment, they became two of the most respected and well liked pupils at the school; it is amazing what happens when you have a few self-defence lessons and a bully gets a taste of their own medicine. Who would have thought that Rose, the lost lonely little girl, who had been bedridden for more than ten months, would have recovered so well and began to enjoy her life once more? It all came down to the wonderful support staff at the hospital who taught her to be more confident, giving her a positive attitude towards life, her best friend Rachel who was always there at her side and last but not least her new found interest in horses and ponies.

During her visits to see Rachel at the hospital, Rose took up a very keen interest in horses, after Rachel's' Grandma had given Rose a book on horse welfare and how to be a good horse owner, it then became a bit of an obsession, she enjoyed not only reading about them but began collecting photos and pictures from equestrian magazines and the local newspapers, her bedroom walls had become a collage and her whole bedroom became like a shrine to ponies. Eventually Rose asked her own grandmother if she could have a pony, the idea seemed alright with her grandmother but asking her grandfather would have been a different kettle of fish altogether, after all, who? would have to foot the bill and pay for it, vet bills would be very expensive and the cost of the stables, saddles, bridles and other tack would not come cheap that was without the daily up keep of food and other treats. There was so much to take in to account and consider, the cost was nothing compared to her grandfather's main concern, which was Rose herself, he molly coddled her ever since she had her accident and worried about her all the time, he wrapped her in cotton wool, she was his pride and joy, he didn't want to see her get hurt again. Once he found out about Rose wanting a pony he began to have negative thoughts about the idea, having visions of her being thrown off the horse or having some kind of accident, he was so paranoid about such an event happening that her grandmother even said if he carried on thinking like that he could make it happen, so he tried not to think about it, even though he had strong reservations about Rose having a pony he arranged a trip to the local stable anyway.

They all got up early on one Saturday morning, her grandfather had taken time out from the bakery, letting Roses' friend Rachel help out in the shop, she had made a full recovery from her anorexia and was often seen having a crafty cake or two, so her grandfather gave her a cake allowance on top of her wages, which she fitted into her food plan from the dietician, very naughty but very, very nice.

When they all arrived at Mrs Bulmer's' stable it was very busy with young girls mainly, leading out horses and ponies, everyone was busy tacking up, mucking out or mounting their ponies, well, that was until Grandad gave up an almighty sneeze, disturbing the whole yard. Everyone stopped in their tracks and looked up in his direction as he looked sheepishly at the ground, looking up Charlie apologised, Rosetta offered him a tissue to wipe his streaming eyes, putting his sneezing fit down to some kind of allergy or the smell of the dry hay, she gave him a few more tissues in case his sneezing bought returned.

Rose watched as a very good looking boy climbed up on top of a well groomed Chestnut mare, the material of his shirt sleeve was just pinned together and just tucked up to his shoulder, sadly he had only one arm, how he had lost it was anyone's' guess. The boy was very confident and in control of everything he was doing, he was about Roses age, she watched as the pony moved around the schooling ring, as it broke from a walk to a canter then began running at some considerable pace, "Grandad", Rose called out loudly, "Look at that boy, Grandad", Charlie watched in amazement as the teenager began to take the pony around the arena jumping over small fences and obstacles, it made him choke up with emotion as he watched in awe at the young lads ability and prowess, as he mastered the course as he took complete control of the graceful filly he was sitting on. His lack of a limb had no reflection on his ability or capability to control the pony, without doubt the young lad appeared to be fearless and confident in all he did, it took her Grandfathers breath away just watching him jump the fences, he was so impressed at what he had just witnessed that he became convinced immediately that this was the right place for Rose. All the young riders around the stable yard appeared to be content and happy but most of all very confident in dealing with their own plight, all had some kind of disability, yet they were some of the happiest children he had ever seen.

Grandma walked over to her husband, Charlie , slipping her arm under his she held his hand tightly as she rubbed the back of it gently, looking over her shoulder she said, "Love, this is Mrs Bulmer, she runs the charity here and has come to have a word about Rose, that`s if you don't mind my dear". Charlie looked across to Mrs Bulmer, she stood regimentally straight, with a riding crop in her hand, wearing a green checked shirt and a green body warmer, her jodhpurs were embarrassingly tight, her silver grey hair was just hidden under a skull cap apart from a small parted fringe of hair at the front and a very long thick pony tail hanging out the back of her black riding hat. She looked very intimidating as she stood firmly in her long black riding boots as she tapped the riding crop gently across the palm of her leather riding gloves, her piercing steel blue eyes staring right into his.

Charlie felt a little uneasy, as he introduced himself, he lent forward to shake her hand, Mrs Bulmer removed a glove, placed her warm hand into his, she firmly gripped it saying in a very polite middle class voice, "Nice to meet you Mr Dapple, my name is Margaret Bulmer, please just call me, your ladyship", Charlie looked awkward, "o.k. your ladyship".

Mrs Bulmer just laughed out loud giggling like a little schoolgirl, as she held her gloved hand, over her mouth "I am joking Mr Dapple, most people call me Maggie, or Madge", Charlie felt rather dumb, Rose and her Grandmother tried hard not to laugh as they looked at him, feeling sorry for his gullibility, Rose looked at the floor, as she stifled her laughter with her hands.

Mrs Bulmer looked down to Rose and smiled a dazzling white smile and reached out her hand, "Rose, you must be Rose", nice to meet you, I have heard quite a lot about you young lady, all good I'm glad to say, holding her hand very tightly Rose replied, "Nice to meet you to, I love your ponies can I stroke one". Mrs Bulmer looked across to Mr and Mrs Dapple, "That is very encouraging, that's' my kind of girl, enthusiastic and eager", as she slapped the side of her riding crop on her thigh, she commanded, "Come on then Rose, no time like the present", turning quickly on her heels she led Rose across the stable yard by the hand, Rose followed with a beaming smile on her face, she punched the air shouting, "Yes". Mr and Mrs Dapple looked at Rose then looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders and holding each other's hands they pecked each other on the lips, laughed, without saying a word, then followed Rose and Mrs Bulmer all the way to the paddock. The stable yard was like a pony wonderland,, there were all kinds of ponies, Piebald, Chestnut, Grey, Dun, Roan, Pinto, Appaloosa, and Palomino, there were so many stunning, beautiful ponies they were all different shapes and sizes with different personalities all of their own. Rose was lost in an equestrian dream world, ignoring the milling herd of ponies all around her she focused in on a pony way out in the distance.

Standing in the dark shadow of a large willow tree, all on its' own with its' back turned in the corner of the paddock was an almost white dapple grey pony. Detached from all the other ponies, it appeared to be very sad, shy and reserved it was not at all interested in any of the other ponies around it, appearing lost in a little world of its' own. Rose was drawn like a magnet to its' stunning beauty, the magnificent pony stepped into a pool of radiant light, the sunlight reflecting off its shiny coat, appearing like a Halo surrounding its' whole body. Rose felt a tingle run down her spine, her legs began to tremble, feeling weak at the knees she felt her heart skip a beat as the pony turned around and their eyes met for the very first time across the open paddock. The wind picked up, a gentle breeze rustled through the leaves in the trees, the sweet smell of honey suckle filled the air, the dapple grey pony looked up, flicked its' tail, whinnied, then shook its' head. Rose called out across the paddock, the mare pricked up its' ears to the sound of her call, acknowledging her gentle voice, she whinnied again... Rose called out again; her heart became all a flutter as it turned around, the pony began to make its way majestically towards where she was standing, changing pace from a slow walk into a gentle trot it held its' head up high moving through the shadows of the trees into the bright sunshine picking up pace, the pony seemed to dance its' way joyously through the dappled sunlight as she made her way elegantly towards her.

The rescued pony approached the white wooden railed fence where the young excited girl stood impatiently waiting, Rose became transfixed, intoxicated by the radiant ponies beauty, closer and closer she came towards her as she slowed down to a gentle walking pace, lifting her head up proudly, then stood just out of her reach. Rose stepped up onto the bottom rail of the fence as the beautiful dapple grey pony stepped a little closer and lowered her head, delving deep into each other' souls ,they found the guiding light they were both searching for seeing the painful darkness hidden behind each other's eyes', making a spontaneous, immediate connection. Lifting its 'head up the pony gave Rose a little nudge then rested it upon her shoulder, Rose placed her trembling hand, gently upon the ponies cheek, kissing it as she stroked along the ponies slender neck, a small tear of joy began to trickle down the side of her face. Rose could see nothing else through the veil of her tears but the magnificent beauty which stood before her. She was lost in her own little world; her whole body was shaking, feeling strange emotions she had never felt before, stuck in a moment of shear happiness and bliss, she felt complete for the first time since her tragic accident. Rose knew she had found the part of the puzzle which had always seemed to be missing in her life as the pony nuzzled her check they made a spiritual connection, they had both found the soul mate they had been waiting so long for. It was love at first sight; her heart had been stolen by a dapple grey pony which bared the obvious scars of its once broken body. Synchronicity had brought two lonely souls together as they journeyed on a voyage of discovery over space and time, now both anchored in a safe port from life's rocky ocean they had found their way home, their mirrored lives would soon make an inseparable bond and their new found love would mend their broken hearts.

Mrs Bulmer stood at a distance with her arms crossed with her riding crop tucked under her arm; she looked dumfounded by what she had just witnessed, in all her years of owning and the running of stables she had never seen such an immediate connection made between a pony and child or any adult for that matter. Mrs Bulmer called out to Mr and Mrs Dapple standing by the paddock fence then called out in a very sincere voice, "God truly moves in mysterious ways," the Dapple's looked down at Rose, as she kissed the pony on the cheek they replied joyously, "He does Mrs Bulmer, he truly does". Mrs Bulmer was business like in all that she did, that was the reason why her equestrian charity for disabled children was so successful, she was very astute with money and knew how to use it wisely, "Mr Dapple", she called out, "I have a proposition", Mr and Mrs Dapple crossed the yard to where Mrs Bulmer stood, they both looked at her with a very curious look on their faces, "O.K. what's' the proposition you have for us". Mrs Bulmer stood very relaxed with her riding crop swinging it gently like a pendulum in her hand, "Well I must say I think Rose has already made her mind up as to what she wants here at the school, so I have a few ideas as to how we can make things work out well for all of us, Mr Dapple, I hear you're a bit of a handyman, very good with your hands and you Mrs Dapple I hear you run the bakery in the village do you not", They both nodded, "Yes", Mrs Bulmer stood firmly with her hands behind her back, "Well I suggest, if you Mr Dapple could do a few general repairs for me at the stable yard, paddock fences, stable doors when required or mend a little tack, torn rugs etc., I would very much appreciate it, Mrs Dapple if you could on the odd occasion donate odd cakes and rolls, at the local shows etc., it would be most appreciated, I think that would cover the pony's' upkeep, feed and the like", Mrs Dapple said, "That sounds fine to me but what about the cost of schooling, I imagine that is quite expensive Mrs Bulmer". Striding up and down, tapping her crop in her hands, she replied, "Well it appears to be your lucky day Mr and Mrs Dapple, each season we are sponsored by a local brewery, we appear to have room for one more student".

Mr and Mrs Dapple stood with their mouths wide open, absolutely overwhelmed, "Well Mrs Bulmer that's' great news, Rose would love to come here and learn to ride at your stable".

Mrs Bulmer looked at them both very seriously," A deal is only a deal when all parties agree, aren't we not missing someone in this arrangement", Mrs Bulmer strolled over to Rose, as Mr and Mrs Dapple followed in her military steps, she rested her crop on her shoulder, "Rose", she called out sternly above the hustle and bustle, Rose was too busy stroking the pony to hear her, lost in her own pony world.

Mrs Bulmer reached out with her riding crop and prodded Rose gently in the small of her back with the firm leather tip. "Rose", she called out again as she tucked the riding crop under her arm, Rose turned in her direction and continued to stroke the dapple grey pony. "Yes" Rose answered, looking at Mrs Bulmer with a little frown on her face, as her special moment with the pony was interrupted.

Mrs Bulmer, looked at Rose with an understanding gaze, "Rose I have spoken to your Grandparents, we feel it would be good for you if you became a regular pupil here at the riding school, but only if you're interested, that is", Rose looked at Mrs Bulmer, her frown broke into a huge beaming smile as she turned, walking awkwardly towards her, she threw her arms around her tiny waist and hugged her tightly, screaming out very enthusiastically, "Thank you, thank you, thank you", her heart was racing ten to the dozen, thumping so loudly with her excitement, one could imagine Mrs Bulmer could even feel it pulsing through her thick body warmer. Her grandparents smiled at Rose as she continued to hug Mrs Bulmer, having the wind taken out of her sails she released Roses tight grip and took in a large intake of breath and sighed, "Well, that was very unexpected young lady", composing herself, she straightened her attire, looked at Rose, smiled sweetly, then took on her former serious demeanour, taking control of her emotions, she began marching up and down like a sergeant major, with her crop firmly tucked under her arm. "Well my dear" she coughed and said, "Let's get down to business young lady, first you must agree to look after your pony, "Yes Mrs Bulmer", "Muck it out regularly, brush it, groom it" ,"Yes Mrs Bulmer", "Water it, feed it, exercise it but most of all care for it in every way, shape and form, do you understand,?"

Mrs Bulmer looked down at her and snapped, "Choose a name for your pony", returning to her stride she turned her gaze towards the pony, gently rested the riding crop on her shoulder, reaffirming her last question, "Choose a name", Rose stood gobsmacked, with her eyes wide open and her mouth open like a gold fish, Rose thought deeply, looked towards the paddock, then moments later screamed out, "Rose".

Mrs Bulmer crossed her arms pondering over her choice of name, "No, that's your name Rose," placing her hands on her hips Rose looked up at Mrs Bulmer with her doe like eyes, enthusiastically saying, "Hmm, I know what about Destiny ", Mrs Bulmer smiled with a rather puzzled expression on her face, "O.K. I'm sure theirs logic somewhere in your thinking, Destiny it is, I agree young lady do you", Rose nodded like one of those nodding dogs you sometimes see on your travels along the motorway. "Yes, yes," she replied. Rose looked over her shoulder at the dapple grey pony as it scraped its' front hoof along the dry earth, the rescued pony got down , rolled in the dust as if celebrating its' new name of Destiny, walking back and forth long the paddock fence, Destiny waited impatiently for Rose's return.

All was agreed, Mrs Bulmer welcomed Rose to the riding school, shook hands with Mr and Mrs Dapple, said goodbye then marched off towards her green Range Rover, climbed inside and drove off waving like Lady Diana Spencer. Rose had to reluctantly leave the stable yard, as the time was getting late, Mr and Mrs Dapple had lots of work to do at the bakery, after saying her last goodbye to Destiny she walked away with a whole new outlook, she knew her life was already changing for the better, she had found a new friend, a companion in a dapple grey pony called Destiny. This day would mark a turning point in the life of Rose Dapple, she would see life from a new perspective and take her life in a new direction, her once closeted world would now change forever as time went by the newly formed relationship they had forged would become an unbreakable, inseparable bond.

As they all made their way to the car park Rose stood still , stared at her grandparents as they continued to walk to the car, behind her grandfather was a little robin hopping about with a fat worm in its' mouth chirping loudly. Rose called out to her Grandad in a whispery voice, "Grandad, look behind you", as he turned the robin dropped the worm onto the shingle in front of him, skipping about like a clockwork toy, Grandad knelt down on his haunches, put out his hand and, picked up the worm, the robin moved towards him fearlessly, sat on the back of his hand, took the juicy morsel of a worm, before it flew off into an old oak tree. Grandma and Rose looked astounded as Grandad said in disbelief, "Well I never, who would of believed that, I have never seen a bird do such a thing like that in my life", they all continued to walk towards the car as the robin flew out of the tree and passed them then perched on the hood ornament of his old Sunbeam Talbot. The car was spotless; even though it was born in 1950's, it was like it was just rolled out of the show room, Roses' grandad had restored it many years ago and used to go touring around the country, it may have been old with many miles on the clock, it was always very reliable, never letting them down, much like her very own grandad. Charlie took his pocket watch out of his pocket, opened it up to check the time, the music of "Moonlight Sonata", began to play, the robin flew off the hood ornament of his car then flew towards him as if attracted to the soothing sound, then perched upon the open gold lid of the old timepiece. It chirped as if in accompaniment to the music, flapped its tiny wings, then flew off again into the old oak tree.

Again Charlie looked dumb struck, Grandma looked into his eyes, "I think that little bird is trying to tell you something my dear, I don't know exactly what, but it really seems to be saying something, what I just don't know, but I think you should listen". Rose just smiled, "Maybe he just wants another worm grandad", closing his watch he replied, "Maybe Rose, maybe", placing the car key into the lock, Grandad opened the door of his old Sunbeam, climbed inside, leaning over to the passenger's side and opened the door for Grandma, Rose climbed inside onto the huge leather back seat, she watched as the robin flew off into the distance, skipping up and down towards the blinding sun, disappearing into the blurry heat haze.

Grandad told Rose to put on her seat belt as he clunked his into place, making sure they were all strapped up safely he turned on the ignition key, the engine kicked into life, the motor purred like a kitten, as the tyres crunched over the heavy shingle, the classic vehicle moved slowly and quietly towards the heavy oak four bar gate at the exit of the stable yard, a big sign appeared to be growing out of a hawthorn bush, written upon it in bold black and gold writing,

"BULMERS STABLE "BELIEVE IN YOUR SELF".

The sign was quite an uplifting one to read, it was something Mrs Bulmer would actually say to her students at the riding school, she was a woman of great passion and vision, she could only ever see the very best in people, not their faults or disability, she was adamant in her belief that all children had the ability to learn to ride, no matter what their impairments maybe. In her past she was a ballet dancer, she once danced at the Royal Academy in London, she had become older, her dancing days were well and truly over, so she retired to the country, her love of horses and riding had always been a part of her life, the idea of a riding school happened by complete accident. One day while visiting the Tate with an old friend, they stood admiring a famous painting by George Stubbs called "Green Pastures", the subject of horses popped up and they started to chat about their love of horses.

Mrs Bulmer's wheel chair bound friend said she would love to ride a horse but her unfortunate condition would not allow it, so she dismissed the idea out of hand. Mrs Bulmer explained to her that with her assistance she could have her riding in no time as she had ways and means to help her to do so. Taking on the challenge, she succeeded in teaching her friend to ride. Mrs Bulmer then had the idea of teaching others to do the same and start her own disabled riding school; eventually it all came into fruition.

The Royal Academy put on a special charity performance of Swan Lake on her behalf, all the funds raised were used to start up "Bulmer's' riding school". Over time the charity grew, now it was supported by many ex-ballet dancers and show biz performers around not only the country but the world. Mrs Bulmer was the type of person who was generous to the core she could relate to people from all walks of life, never looking down her nose at anyone; she was a true humanitarian, a dying breed of the upper classes who genuinely cared about the people. She was much like a Lady Diana figure not only in the look, department but also in her ways, she gave up herself to the needs of people and was very sincere in her charity work, not like some who used charity as a mask to their own ambition, no, like Lady Diana she really cared about the people and it showed with a real passion.. The stable became a stepping stone to a better future for many children from all walks of life who attended riding classes, rich or poor, Mrs Bulmer didn't give a damn, she saw human beings not a class divide, to her they were all born equals, they all lived on this earth, they would all die on this earth and even the queen had to go to the toilet at some time, the only difference in the world was money and the lack of it.

Mrs Bulmer never had a bad word or hateful bone in her body, yet some things she could not tolerate, mainly snobbery, racism and bullying in her world she would not allow it to exist, if it ever rose its unsightly head in her open ended world it was dealt with in a very direct way, immediate expulsion from the riding school.

Mrs Bulmer had strict rules but it was a necessity, it built a solid framework for learning, she never bent the rules for anyone, excuses were not accepted for wrong behaviour, she realised early that if you gave certain people an inch they would take a mile, so she made a list of strict rules and like the ten commandments in her eyes they should never be broken and number one on the list was, "Bullying".

She had seen victimisation in all its' guises, she knew too well how words can hurt; her own father was a master at it, as a child she became almost traumatised by his alcoholic rages. He would always hit the mark and often her; he knew exactly which buttons to press. To the outside world Mr Bulmer was always the very cheerful chappy, the Mr Nice guy, well, in the local village pub he was, everybody loved good old David, he always bought the first round in as he played court jester to his well-paid, inebriated audience.

Behind closed doors he was a tyrannical bully, with a hurtful mouth and a big fist, as a child she had made friends with the back of his shovel like hands, on many painful occasions. The young Mrs Bulmer was grateful to find her mother noticed she had a gift for dancing, sending her off to a London Dance Academy when she was very young, she escaped the evil clutches of her father. Sadly her mother ended up in a wheelchair and slightly brain damaged, apparently she had fallen from a balcony while on holiday in France with her evil bastard of a father, neither the French police nor Mrs Bulmer ever found out the truth about how the fall occurred but drunken blind rage did come to Mrs Bulmer's' mind.

As the years passed Mrs Bulmer's' world became very closeted ,and closed in, she could never make close relationships with men, she had been traumatised by her drunken father to much as a child, it had left very deep mental scars, she knew too well how ugly abuse was after all she once lived with it. Quite often men tried to befriend her or form lose relationships, at the time her only passion was dance and her performance, how frustrating it was for all those besotted young men as they watched her seductive radiant beauty dance across the stage, fuelling their passion only to be rebuffed then sent away with nothing more than an autograph, left only with their unfrequented desire. The young Mrs Bulmer was a demure curvaceous, feminine beauty, a Vogue front page fashion model of elegance, so beautiful the Greek goddess Hera herself would have been jealous then would have cursed her to Hades for being so. She had learned to be self-sufficient, both mentally and financially in a closed lonely world; her only true love apart from dancing was her love of the open countryside and horses.

On her days off, she would drive out to her countryside home, wake up early each morning and make her way to the stable yard where she kept her pride and joy, a black Arabian stallion she called, "Bonham", she named him in respect of John Bonham the deceased drummer of her favourite rock band at the time, "Led Zeppelin". Climbing on board the black beauty, she would gallop off down the narrow track free from the shackles of her life, grabbing on tightly with just a handful of mane in her tight grip, she would ride bare back across the open fields, Nothing came close to the feeling of sheer exhilaration as she sat astride her noble black stallion, riding out into the sunrise with the wind in her hair at full flight; the adrenalin rush of speed was like a drug as the horse and rider became one with nature, losing all her demons with every rising stride her soul became as free as a bird. It gave her the freedom she always desired, it was her mental safety valve, holding on tightly at full flight, she left her worries behind her.

Mrs Bulmer possessed the ability to hide her suffering well, she buried her past abuse so deep inside, no one would ever of known it was there at all, yet she appeared to be one of the most confident , contented people one could ever wish to meet. She gave herself completely to those in need and never bore a grudge against any one, the greatest gift she gave to the world of the disabled was self-belief and the assurance that no matter what, she would always be there for them, now her riding school had become one of the most prominent in the country, soon two of her rising stars would take to the stage, take the equestrian world by storm
CHAPTER THREE

THE DRESSAGE

John Meakin rose very early before first light to go to Mrs Bulmer's stable yard to make Honey good and ready for the coming day ahead, she was a right messy pony at times, making work quite hard for John to keep her looking pristine today she had to look top notch and at her very best. Filling a large bucket from the standpipe in the stable yard Giles father carries the pale of water into the stable and offered up a cool drink of water to Honey, placing the bucket upon the floor, he retrieved a handful of oats from the hopper, waiting for Honey to respond he lent forward towards her, her nostrils flared out, her eyes widened as she noticed the handful of oats before her, she stepped forward and munched on the tasty treat. John knew a little treat before the event could give the pony a sudden burst of energy, it wasn't in anyway cheating but was just a way of giving the rider an extra turn of foot if required, he felt it put the pony in a better frame of mind, John always thought a well fed pony was more often than not was a happy one. John sat on his haunches as he watched Honey finish off the last few grains of oats, patting her on her withers he takes the contented pony in hand leading her outside into the fresh air John begins walking her around for a while to loosen her up a bit then takes her back in the stable.

Attaching the lead rope to a metal ring he removes the slightly damp and soiled light cotton horse blanket he had put on her to protect her shiny well groomed coat the night before, like a lot of ponies she liked nothing more than a roll in her own mess at night, pulling the blanket off he folds it up neatly and places it on the top of a pile of dirty, soiled horse rugs ready to be washed later on that day. Honey had picked up a little mess from the straw, John forgot to put a belly clothe on, as usual sods law dictated the outcome but nothing a little spot treatment here and there wouldn't fix.

It was a good job he remembered to put on her leggings, it had kept her white socks clean, getting the green stains off would have been a right bugger, with a little brushing and a little bit of oil on her hooves, she soon looked a million dollars but even so, John still gave her socks a thorough rub with powdered chalk, trimmed the loose hair close to her hooves, it all seemed a little pointless and a bit over the top considering Honey was going to wear a full set of boots making her good and ready for the coming event. Tidying up behind him John made his way back to his vintage BSA motorbike and climbed on board leaving Honey in the very capable hands of Mrs Bulmer made his way back to the Meakin family home.

Giles was woken by the sound of the noisy buzzing alarm clock; slowly he opened his eyes as the early morning sunshine was breaking in the sky, the sunlight cut a pathway through the early morning mist glaring in through the slight gap in his bedroom curtains like a laser beam. Slamming his hand down hard on top of the alarm clock, he kills the annoying sound; the clock shoots off the bedside table, the buzzing sound dying with the sudden impact as it hits the floor. Giles rubs the grains of sleep out of his tired eyes, blinking himself awake he yawns out loudly, stretches his body, nagging to himself, "Get up you, lazy bones, big day today," sitting up on the edge of the bed he scratches his head, stands up then opens the curtains, the light floods in almost blinding him, "Wow, that's going to be a real scorcher today."

Holding his hand across his eyes he looks out through the glaring light, a murder of crows circle like vultures high above the tall tree tops, throwing long black shadows upon the sun soaked meadow beneath, breaking up the depressing black circle cawing out loudly as they fly off into the distance across the wide open misty fields of golden barley.

Scanning his messy bedroom, he ponders for a while, then collecting his thoughts decides on all the things he needed to take with him for the day ahead. Searching around the room he gathers everything together and lays it all down on the bed. "Hmm, where is my riding glove", he says to himself, then begins sifting through the odd bits and pieces scattered about inside his large bedroom cupboard. "Mum," he shouted loudly, "Have you seen my riding glove anywhere", his mother shouted back up the stairs, "It's on the top shelf in your cupboard love, next to those magazines of yours," Giles felt rather embarrassed as he thought only he knew about his secret stash of mags, his school mates would laugh if they knew his biggest secret was found out by his very own mother.

"Thanks mum," he shouted back very sheepishly as he picked up his leather riding glove, hiding his pile of exotic girly magazines in a somewhat darker corner of his cupboard saying quietly, "Out of sight, out of mind, that's what I say," Giles thought to himself as he locked the cupboard door, placing the key under the very innocent pile of Spiderman comics he kept on his bedside table. Giles went to the bathroom and ran himself a nice hot bath, throwing in a couple of bath cubes, added some of his mother's bubble bath, then frothed up the foaming white bubbles with his hand, climbing in slowly as he adjusted to the heat, sat down in the relaxing hot bath water. Warming up a flannel under the running water for a short while, turns off the tap then leans back and rests his head on the cool edge of the deep ceramic bathtub. Placing the hot wet flannel over his face, he shuts his eyes, feeling the warm sensation upon his skin as the hot flannel began opening up his paws, cleansing his face in an attempt to get rid of his sudden break out of teenage spots upon his face.

Holding his hand across his face, closes his eyes, the bright sunlight penetrating through the multi coloured mottled glass of the bathroom window, fascinated by the optical illusion of colours, forming a kaleidoscope of light through the gaps in his fingers, relaxes in the perfume scented white foam of bubbles. Refreshing the flannel with more hot water he placed it back over his face, Giles began thinking about the competition ahead of him, most of all how he was going to fare against the other riders in the show jumping event.

Even though he was as ready as he could ever be, he had a sudden feeling of trepidation and self-doubt; he could not get use to the idea of competing against Barrington Upton Smythe. Every time he ran through his routine, thoughts of his rival kept popping into his head, worrying how he was going to compete against the gifted but arrogant son of the local MP. Giles began to drift off into a deep sleep, the warmth of the water soothed him as the intense sunlight bathed his body through the window he drifted off into a wonderful dream. Giles saw himself in a huge arena, crowds of people applauded as he sat on top of his mount Honey, smiling as Marc Bolan presented him with his very own signed Gibson Flying "V" guitar with a personal hand, written message scribed upon the white scratch plate written in gold metallic ink, "To Giles my number one fan".

There was a loud knock at the bathroom door, his mother shouted through to him, "Breakfast is ready," Giles woke up with a sudden start, splashing the bath water all over the floor, the stinging sensation of soapy water in his eyes bringing him painfully back to reality. Rubbing his eyes with a cold flannel, he shouts out, "Alright mum, just getting ready, be down in a minute" stepping out of the bath he dries himself quickly and puts on his clothes, looking in the mirror he scans his face searching for any angry eruptions on his reddened skin, finding Mount Vesuvius, he squeezed it between his thumb and forefinger, squirting out all its nasty contents all over the bath room mirror. Picking up one of his mother's cotton balls she kept in a small dish in the bathroom cabinet, he dabs away at the nasty cream coloured pus and rinses his face with ice cold water. Wiping the glass with a handful of tissue, Giles looks at his face in the mirror, stares at his handy work on his forehead, "Not bad, can hardly see it at all now".

Picking up his mother's afro comb he tries to tease out the knots in his thick hair, breaking the teeth off the comb as he tugged it through the black curly mop. Giles looked at his hair and laughed out loud to himself as the comb got stuck in the midst of his knotted curls. The girls at the village school nick named him T Rex, because all he ever played on his IPod was the music of the 70's dinosaur band, in reality his elfin good looks and his natural curly hair, made him the spitting image of his hero Marc Bolan, every time he crossed the playground the girls crossed their hearts and shouted out to Giles, "Put a little Marc in your heart".

Giles looked in the bathroom mirror, shook his hair then screaming out loudly, "Ow!" made his way along the wide stair landing and bumped heavily down the stairs like an elephant, singing a T Rex song, I love to Boogie, entering the relative quiet of the country kitchen. His mother sat eating a full breakfast, "Some ones happy today," as his father thumbed through the pages of the local rag, looking up very unimpressed by Giles painful attempt to sing. Giles pulled up a chair, looked at his plateful of smoked bacon, eggs and fried mushrooms, "Hmm, smells great mum, bet it tastes as good as it looks," his mother smiled, as she raised a forkful of bacon to her mouth, "Tuck in Giles, busy day today my lad, Mrs Bulmer will be hear in a about twenty minutes," Hurriedly Giles scoffed down the delicious breakfast, washing it all down with some pure orange juice his mother had squeezed earlier.

His father rustled the pages of his newspaper and peeped over the top, "You're going to do well today Giles, I just feel it in my bones lad, remember, stay calm, cool and collected O.K." son". Giles got up, stroked his father's bald spot, "What's that for", Giles laughed as he drew circles around his father's bald spot, "Oh, that's for luck dad", his father smiled,

"Well if you keep rubbing it like that my son, I'll be lucky if I have any left". His father got up from the breakfast table, playfully he put his arm around Giles neck, firmly rubbing the top of his curly mopped head with his knuckles, "Get your boots sunshine, your see that good looking face of yours in them by the time I've finished son".

Giles walked off into the garden and made his way to the double garage, picked up his black riding boots and returned back to the kitchen gave them to his father, "Go on, get the rest of your tack son, you're going to be the sharpest most well-presented rider and pony out there today, they will all need a pair of Bono's sunglasses by the time I'm finished with this lot ", Giles went back to the garage, unhooking his well-polished tack from the wall, "Dad must of been up all night cleaning this for me," he thought to himself, returning to the kitchen he placed it all on the large oak table top for his father, "Thanks dad, I see you were busy last night", patting his bald spot again,

"That's O.K. son, now go on Giles, you go and wait for Mrs Bulmer I can handle this, you will have plenty to do later on", as his father carried on polishing away at his riding boots like a man possessed . Giles strolled around the garden going through his routine again in his head, stepping around the garden like a ballet dancer, starting and stopping as he concentrated on every line, turn and jump as he moved his way across the lawn towards the rear entrance of his father's garage. His eyes became all blurred as he stepped out of the bright sunshine into the very dark garage, moving over towards the heavy double doors, pulling the lever upwards he releases the spring catch, watching the door slowly glide open the sun chases out the shadows, the bright light almost blinding him. Stepping back he sits down on the cold steel bonnet of his fathers' old estate car, making himself comfortable as he waits patiently for Mrs Bulmer to arrive, a little while later the distant sound of a throbbing engine filled the air, breaking the relative silence, the closer it came the louder the noise as the vehicle made its' way down the hill towards the Meakin family home.

The black roof of a large horse transporter appeared above the high rustic dry stone garden wall, the noisy sound of the air breaks disturbing the roosting birds along the hedgerows as they all scattered, then flew off in all directions into the open fields. Giles mother waved from the front door of the house before making her way down the drive to greet Mrs Bulmer as she pulled up carefully, manoeuvring the large vehicle into the wide entrance of the Meakins family home. Mrs Bulmer straightened up the steering wheel, wrenched up the sturdy hand break and turned off the ignition key, silencing the noisy beast of an engine, grabbing hold of the chrome door handle, she shoulder barged the heavy door open, she climbed down out of her comfortable leather seat then stepped down onto the black sticky tarmac. Lifting her boot she looks at Giles mother and says, "Well Mrs Meakin, that certainly is going to be a real scorcher of a day, the heats melting your tarmac already," Mrs Meakin looked down at the blackened sticky soles of Mrs Bulmer's boots, "See what you mean Mrs Bulmer, time I put some gravel down, sorry about your boots," Mrs Bulmer just smiled, "That's O.K. I have picked up worse than that at the stable yard, I can assure you" laughing out loudly, they began to chat about Giles and Rose, they both had great confidence regarding the outcome of the competition and had no worries whatsoever as to the final result of the day.

Giles sprang up from the bonnet of the car as his father called out his name, as he walked towards the garage carrying a large candy stripped laundry bag, inside was Giles' black velvet riding hat and a change of neatly pressed riding clothes, "Thanks dad," Giles said as he took the clothes off his father and carried them down to the waiting vehicle. His father returned to the house to pick up the saddle and bridle from the kitchen table, followed his son down the driveway then waited next to the truck door.

Placing his foot on the running board, Giles climbs inside the cab, pulling the front seat forward he hangs his neatly pressed uniform on to the grab rail next too Mrs Bulmer's change of clothes, placing the laundry bag into the large wire storage rack just above the wide back seat, he leaves enough space for Roses' bits and pieces then makes more room for his riding tack.

His father stepped up onto the running board offering up the saddle and bridle. Mr Meakin called out to Mrs Bulmer as he passed the tack up to his son, "Good morning Mrs Bulmer nice day for us", "Yes, we really couldn't have asked for a better day John", Mrs Bulmer replied, smiling, John climbed down out of the cab, then made his way around to the other side of the truck and began to have a chat with his wife and Mrs Bulmer. Giles jumped down off the running board onto the drive and rushed back into the house, startled Mr Meakin looks up the driveway as he watches his son disappear into the dark hallway, "What's up with him", he says to his wife, Mrs Bulmer seems concerned, "You better go and check on him, see if he's alright John", the anxious group all begin to walk towards the house as a smiling Giles reappears out of the shadows holding a pair of well-polished riding boots shouting, "Found em", they all looked at him, as he held his riding boots in the air like an Olympic torch as John said with relief, "Thank God for that", Giles walked towards them whistling as if he never had a care in the world, "Everyone ready, I am" his mother gave him a big hug as his father offered him a few more words of encouragement.

Mrs Bulmer commented on his shiny black riding boots, "Made a great job of those boots Giles," looking across to his father Giles replied, "It wasn't me who cleaned them, it was my Dad," Mrs Bulmer slapped his father firmly on the back, "Well done John, want a job in my tack room", his father smiled," Thanks, but no thanks, it wore me out doing this pair", Mrs Bulmer nodded her head in agreement," Yes I know what you mean John," Giles climbed aboard the truck, placed his riding boots carefully in the storage area above the back seat, looking at all the gleaming tack he realised how hard his father had worked cleaning it all and realised just how lucky he was to have such a caring father. Giles got down out of the truck, walked over to his father and put his hand, on his father's shoulder, " Thanks Dad", his father seemed a little taken aback, "What's that for son", Giles squeezed his father's arm gently, " Just for being you Dad".

The time was moving on, it was almost time for them to leave, Giles said good bye to his parents and waited inside the large comfy cab of the truck as Mrs Bulmer stepped up onto the running board and climbed into the very hot leather driving seat, lowering down the electric window she called out to his parents," See you both later, I'll take good care of him". Giles waved as his parents smiled back waving, his mother blew him a kiss, Giles pretended to catch it and blew it back to her as his mother and father laughed and waved good bye.

Today was a very special day for Giles, he was primed and ready for the competition he had practiced so many hours for he hoped the day would go without a hitch, placing his feet up on the dash board, he relaxed back into his seat, putting his white headphones over his ears, travelled back in a musical time machine as he chilled out with a smile on his face he turned up the volume and listened to the elfin wizard of glam rock, Marc Bolan.

Making his way up the drive Mr Meakin walked towards the garage and opened the door to his beat up, old reliable tank of a Volvo Estate, he reaches down to release the bonnet catch, lifting the bonnet he begins to check the oil and water, pulling out the dipstick he wipes it on an old piece of rag, pushes it firmly back in to check the oil level, "Not bad", he says to himself as he pushes the dipstick back into its' home. Grabbing the grubby piece of cloth he undoes the radiator cap, tops up the water level from an old galvanised watering can and checks the fluid of windscreen washer reservoir. Climbing on board his precious motor, he slumps down in his well-worn driver's seat, checks the handbrake, placing the gearstick into neutral, turns the key in the ignition, starts up the engine, giving the well-travelled engine a quick turnover to see if it's still up and running, "Purrs like a kitten", he says to himself as he smiles and revs up the well-tuned engine. Stepping out of the vehicle, John takes the rag from his back jean pocket, wipes his hands after closing the bonnet; he flicks the cloth through the air like a window cleaner, the crack echoing around the garage like a bull whip. Taking the long way back through the garden, he takes in the fragrance coming from the sweet smelling sweet peas outside the backdoor, snapping off a few stems he then enters the kitchen and places the blooms in a small vase to freshen the air from the smell of the fried breakfast they had all eaten earlier, then made his way up the stairs to get ready for the day ahead.

Mrs Meakin stood in front of the long full length bedroom mirror, dressed in a very elegant Chinese black silk dress, covered in beautiful gold edged red roses with a knee high slit up the side, wrapping the black silk loop around the single button just beneath the stiff mandarin collar she called out just as John passed the bedroom door, "John come here please", she called quietly. John stood by the door drying his little bit of tufty hair with a towel, "Very nice", he said smiling, Mary looked unsure, "Not sure if I should wear it John, don't you think it's a little revealing", John looked her up and down with a naughty look in his eyes, "No, you better not Mary, I might have to ravage you", feeling very uplifted by his comments, she gave him a twirl, span around and fell back on the bed, John walks over to the bedside, stoops down and kisses her gently on the neck, "Easy Tiger ", Mary says with a sigh. John picks up a crimson red rose off the bedside table and pins it to her large black woven hat lying next to her on the bed, placing it gently upon her head he gives her a peck on the cheek," A rose for a rose I love you".

Taking her by the hand, he helps her back to her feet and says "Laters" winking he dances out of the bedroom and trips on the loose rug exiting the room like a not so elegant Fred Astaire. Returning back to the bathroom whistling he picks up the straight razor, laying the sharp edge upon his short bristled skin he slowly cuts through the thick layer of shaving foam removing his twelve o'clock shadow from his handsome rugged face he began to think seriously about his son Giles.

He knew he was a fighter and a winner, he never gave up on anything, from the day he was born he proved himself time and time again, he knew that being born with only one arm would not prevent him from achieving his goals. As a child he managed to cope so well, he found his own way around all the obstacles which came before him from bathing, dressing himself too climbing and swimming, he mastered it all, he proved to be one of the most determined young boys in the village.

John recalled the day Giles connected his laptop to the TV in the front room, so he could watch Marc Bolan on YouTube, by sheer accident he stumbled across a video of a young American girl called Lizzy riding a pony, he immediately related her plight to his own as she was also born with one arm, her riding skill was a joy to watch and her passion for what she did was inspirational. Giles asked his father if he too, could learn to ride, being an ex-horse guard to the queen he had no objections, so he searched out a local riding school, the rest is history.

The day Giles sat upon his very first pony he knew he had found his true element, from that day on his love of horses blossomed, he conquered all the obstacles his disability had set before him. Giles generous nature endured people towards him, when he met Rose Dapple for the first time he convinced her that she could also achieve anything if she set her mind to do it, her disability would not be a barrier if she believed in herself, it was just a new set of challenges for her to overcome. Giles inspired everyone around him he proved to be a resilient child even in the eyes of adversity. As time moved on both Giles and Rose became close friends, forming a very special friendship, a bond so close, that even her pony Destiny would often try and separate them both by nuzzling her nose between them, edging Giles firmly away from the paddock fence.

John broke away from his deep thoughts, splashed a handful of cold water over his clean shaven face, then dried it with a hand towel, Mary called out to him from the bedroom, "Which shirt do want to wear love, the white or the blue one", John thought for a moment, then called back, "The white cotton one please, it will keep me cool in this heat love," Mary took the shirt downstairs and ran a hot iron over it, placing it on a wire hanger she hung it on the frame of the open window to catch the gentle breeze of the honey suckle scented air wafting in from the garden. John came down the stairs carrying his light coloured cotton trousers, a shiny black pair of lace up shoes and a waist coat over his bare shoulder. He stood there dressed in nothing more than a pair of well filled white cotton Y fronts and a pink pair of socks, with an optimistic look on his face. Mary was rather old fashioned in her ways, feeling a little prudish she became rather red in the face then said, "Time and a place my dear, later John, go on, get dressed, whatever would the neighbours think," as she looked shyly into the garden checking for any sudden arrivals. John shrugged his shoulders," I don't know love, can't a man be spontaneous these days,"

John continued to get dressed as he tied up his shoe laces; Mary stepped in from the garden with a freshly picked red rose and placed it into the lapel of his waistcoat. John sniffed at the sweet smelling rose, "Thank you" he said to his loving wife, checking themselves out one last time in the large pine framed mirror, John put a comb through his thinning hair as Mary applied a touch of lip balm to her dry lips to protect them from the hot sun. Picking up his house keys, John checked and locked all the doors and windows securely, dressed in there elegant finery they both made their way to the estate car, John knowing he was on a promise pecked Mary on the cheek, turns the ignition key, winks with a smile then whispers in her ear, "Laters", releasing the handbrake with an expectant smile on his face, the loving couple drove off into the sunshine in his old reliable old rust bucket of a car.

Much further along the country road, the powerful engine effortlessly pulled the horse transporter up the steep hill as they headed away from the Meakins home towards the village to pick up Rose from the bakery, Honey and Destiny stood quietly in the horsebox as they both pulled out a large clumps of sweet fresh cut hay from the hay net hanging on a metal ring, both munching away contentedly.

Mrs Bulmer drove slowly towards the village, rested her arm on the window frame to cool her down as she tapped her fingertips on the large wing mirror, catching the refreshing breeze upon her face as it entered the cab from the open window, she eased her foot off the gas a little as she approached the village crossroads. Giles waved his hand, excitedly as he saw Rose sitting on the steps of Dapples bakery stroking a cute little black kitten oblivious to their arrival, pulling away from the crossroads, Mrs Bulmer tooted the air horn scarring the tiny kitten, Rose winced as its claws dug deep into her cheese cloth blouse, unhooking them she stood up and cradled the traumatised puss, kissed her gently, tickled her nose and waved.

The Horsebox drew up outside Dapples bakery, casting a large black shadow over the pavement, Rose approached the waiting truck still trying to comfort the shaken cat, Mrs Bulmer leant out of the cab, realising her mistake, and she strokes the kitten, saying "Sorry puss, did that nasty noise scare you".

Hearing the sound of the throbbing engine outside, Roses` grandparents strolled out of the shop carrying one handle each of a large bag and placed it on the pavement outside the bakery. "Good morning Maggie nice day for it", Charlie beamed as he rested his arms on the cab of the truck, he looked inside to see a very happy Giles singing along to a T Rex tune, Hot Love on his I pod, Giles acknowledges Mr Dapple with a nod then shouted out, "Morning", then continues nodding his head to the glam rock musical tones. Rose handed the kitten over to her grandmother then hugs them both, Roses grandfather places a small white daisy behind Roses ear "Good luck my little pet," pecking her on the cheek, Rose smiles then gives him a great big hug, "Thank you Grandad", saying her goodbyes to her grandparents Rose struggles with the bag towards the cab of the horse transporter, Mrs Bulmer nudges Giles in the side with her elbow, gesturing him to help Rose with her heavy load as she grapples with the weight of the goodies and her riding equipment inside it.

Grabbing hold of the bag firmly, Giles lifts it with ease and places it in the wire framed luggage rack into the remaining space he had made earlier. Rose climbed up into the spacious back seat, slides into the cosy corner, smiling "Thanks Giles, sorry for the heavy bag, you know my Nan, she made me double up on everything just in case something goes missing, she worries so much, I got enough food to feed a polo team". Mrs Bulmer turned around, looked up at the bulging bag, "Well I hope she put a few of those tasty cream éclairs in there Rose, no one makes éclairs like your Grandmother". Rose smiled at Mrs Bulmer as she adjusted the air vents, directing one down to cool herself, pointing the other towards the luggage rack, "That will keep those éclairs fresh Mrs Bulmer, don`t worry there`s plenty for all of us", Giles licked his lips with anticipation of the tasty treats to come, returned the white headphones back into his ears, he turned up the volume drowning out the conversation. Mrs Bulmer looked at Giles and laughed as he shook his mop to the music, turning the ignition key the powerful engine roared in to life vibrating the aluminium panel sides, Mr and Mrs Dapple stood back onto the pavement, her Grandma held the kittens paw and waved it, shouting above the engines noise they both said, "Good luck", as they pulled away from the kerbside, Charlie and Rosetta watched as the horse truck climbed easily towards the brow of the steep hill until the tail end of the horse transporter disappeared over it, leaving a much quieter village high street behind them. Rosetta looked at Charlie and smiled, "Worry guts, she'll be o.k. love stop worrying", feeling comforted by her words the very over protective Charlie kissed Rosetta on the forehead, placing his palm on the small of her back and escorted her inside the bakery with a big smile upon his face .

Making their way to the main road, Mrs Bulmer, pulled up the hand, break, stopping at the nearest layby she checked out her roughly drawn out map on the piece of white cardboard, then she wedged it in the air vent of the dash board, double checking the route on the sat nav. Mrs Bulmer glanced over to Giles as he sat quietly in the passenger seat with a very serious look on his face as he studied a roughly hand drawn diagram of the figure of eight course, step by step going through every one of the ten jumps, he prepared himself for the coming event.

Mrs Bulmer smiled as she watched him zigzag his hand through the air, mumbling to himself, "Giles, don't worry, you're going to be fine I promise you, O.K.". Giles opened his eyes, looked at her, looking rather down at heel, "I want to do so well, I can't let you both down," Mrs Bulmer placed her hand on his shoulder, gently comforting him, "Giles you're as ready, as your ever be, as for letting us down, that won't happen young man, just believe in yourself, most of all believe in your pony Honey, she will take good care of you Giles, have confidence young man".

Rose sat forward on the back seat twiddling with the white daisy, placing it back behind her ear she grabs a handful of Giles thick hair and ruffled it up, "Buck up Giles, we are going to shine today I just feel it in my bones, so stop being silly". Smiling at Roses final comment, Giles turned around on his squeaky leather seat, raised his hand into the air, saying "High five for Marc we will ride today in his memory", clapping their hands together they both shouted, "For Marc", like a pair of over acting Laurence Olivia`s acting out Richard the third.

The horse transporter climbed up the bumpy hill, unsettling the ponies, as the front wheels sunk deep into a large pothole as the vehicles suspension moved up and down to the momentum of the roads uneven surface. Watching the hedgerows flash past Giles began to feel a little dizzy, uncomfortable ,and a little nauseous as his tummy began to rumble, "Please pull over Mrs Bulmer I feel sick", finding a lay by Mrs Bulmer slowly pulled the truck to a controlled stop, Giles grappled with the chrome door handle, opening the door, he stumbled out on to a grass verge, falling to his knees, Giles heaves up the contents of his stomach releasing the breakfast he had earlier, vomiting it all over a clump of wild buttercups.

Mrs Bulmer stepped out of the truck and made her way across the lay by where Giles was doubled up on the grass verge holding his stomach, crouching down beside him she rubbed his back offering, him a tissue to wipe his face with, "Sorry Mrs Bulmer, I just don't know what's up with me". Lifting him up on to his feet, Mrs Bulmer took another tissue from her blouse sleeve, wiping it around his mouth, "Come on Giles your be just fine, it could be nerves you know", Giles grinned, looked down to the buttercups and said, "May be, but it looks like bacon, eggs and mushrooms to me", they both laughed out loudly as they walked back to the truck, then climbed back into their comfy seats.

Mrs Bulmer turned the key to the ignition, placed her foot on the clutch, engaging first gear she looked into her rear view mirror to check for oncoming traffic, before slowly accelerating and pulling away from the lay by, looking across at Giles she said, "Your something else Giles, you truly are," shaking her head she smiled as Giles replied, "What, what"? The powerful Endeavour Horse transporters` engine picked up speed, effortlessly pulling them over the brow of the hill before speeding down into the valley of open sun drenched fields and pastures.

Giles rolled down the electric window a little more, sticking his head out into the fresh cool air, his black mop began to blow around uncontrollably, buffeted by the force of the wind, Rose began to giggle as she looked over to the wide open mouthed, fly catching Giles with his head stuck out of the window, "Giles", she shouted, "You look like a black poodle", Mrs Bulmer looked across to Giles and said, "Looks more like a Werewolf to me". Giles saw the funny side, tilted his head back, howling like a Wolf, Rose joined in the howling chorus, feeling a little left out, Mrs Bulmer let herself go and began howling like a Lycaon mad woman. They must have all looked like a pack of crazed lunatics on a day out from the funny farm as the lorry sped down the hill towards the oncoming traffic as the occupants inside the approaching vehicles looked on in sheer shock and disbelief. It was nice to see that Mrs Bulmer had a lighter side as she laughed and joked about, watching her lose her inhibitions, her very serious persona was left behind, it was refreshing for them both to see her so happy. The childish banter had made the journey a very pleasant one, Rose and Giles realised they had found a new friend in Mrs Bulmer as they continued to make small talk, releasing the long lost child which was buried so deep inside her.

The traffic on the road was quite clear for an August bank holiday as they made their way to their destination, even though they stopped a few times to check on Honey and Destiny, they made steady progress, all arriving in a happy frame of mind with smiles on their faces with plenty of time to spare. There was a special side entrance for the competitors they each had a designated parking area for their trucks and trailers.

As they drove into the shade of a tree lined tunnel of lime coloured trees, Giles pointed out their parking space, a large box trailer was left diagonally across it, leaving hardly any room to manoeuvre. Giles climbed out of the truck, giving directions to Mrs Bulmer as she reversed past the badly parked trailer which was hogging part of her parking space. Slowly and carefully, inch by steady inch Mrs Bulmer edged her way into the tight gap, notching up the hand brake, she shouted out the side window, "Who said a woman can't park", looking proud of herself as she hit the button to the electric window on the drivers' side and closed it.

Stepping out of the truck she placed the key in the door lock, locking it firmly behind her pulls her leather gloves from her jacket pocket and puts them on, then walks casually around to where Giles was waiting at the rear of the horse transporter sitting on a low white picket fence. Clapping her hands together she looks at Giles, "How's that for parking young man," Giles looks up with a cheeky smile on his face, "Not bad, not bad at all", they both smile as Mrs Bulmer nods her head in agreement, "That's what I say young man". Mrs Bulmer yawned out loudly, lifting her arms up, she stretched her tense body, sitting in the driver's seat most of the morning had made her joints a little stiff, so she swung her arms around to loosen up a bit, she was very toned for her age, being an ex-ballet dancer with a keen interest in yoga had kept her looking pretty fit. Giles watched as she went through her yoga routine, shyly looked away as she noticed him staring as she bent right over and touched her toes, her tight jodhpurs leaving nothing to the imagination. Giles covered his face in embarrassment and looked down at the dusty ground trying to save his blushes as his hormones began to kick in, Mrs Bulmer just smiled and continued contorting her body into all kinds of sensual shapes. Rose watched on intently from a distance, standing very agitated with her arms crossed with a very annoyed look on her face, tapping her foot on the dry grass as she witnessed Giles reaction to her aerobic antics.

Feeling his neck burn he noticed Rose staring at him from behind a trailer, pretending not to look he began to whistle, feeling a little guilty as he walked away towards the horse box, unfastening the metal catches of the transporter doors he could hear someone approaching from behind. Rose walked over and joined him, releasing the catches on the other side. "You look rather hot and bothered Giles", looking rather sheepish he replies, "Oh! Do I Rose, must be all this heat, I always get a little flustered when I feel hot". Rose seethed and stomped off in a huff returning moments later with a container of bottled water in her hand, standing with one hand, on her hip and the other menacingly rocking the bottle.

Rose began to fiddle with the bottle cap twiddling it back and forth between her fingers as she bit down hard on the corner of her lip, "Want something to cool you down Giles, I'm sure you need it". Rose opened the bottle cap, stepped right up to his face then began to shake the contents all over his head, raging, "I saw you watching her, you fancy Mrs Bulmer don't you," Giles looked up like a drowned rat and said sheepishly, "No", as Rose screamed out, "You fibber, you fibber, I saw you looking at her", then in a jealous rage continues her watery attack on the rather wet, bedraggled innocent young man.

Looking up like a drowned kitten, Giles says sarcastically, "Feeling better now Rose", as the last drops of water dripped from the bottle, Rose, stared like daggers at the now floppy haired Giles, in temper she throws the bottle down to the ground, fuming and pulling at her hair, "Fibber," having the last word, she stamps the ground then marches off in a huff poking her tongue out like a spoilt child.

Giles returns the compliment and continued to pull the pins out of the metal catches as the chains rattled against the metal panels, exciting Destiny and Honey as they began to fidget about as they sensed their immanent release from their temporary prison. Mrs Bulmer did one final stretch, making her way towards Giles, noticing a crowd of young stable lads, whistling and applauding, ignoring their childish antics she just shrugged her shoulders saying, "Silly boys", blew a teasing kiss, then made her way back to the horse transporter. Grabbing hold of the tail gate she opens it up, pulls down the loading ramp, pulling back the two wooden side safety panels before stepping quietly inside the horse box.

Giving Giles a side glance she looks him up and down, "You're sweating up a bit young man, seems you need a good rub down more than these ponies do", Giles smiled embarrassingly, just looked down at the ground, shrugged his shoulders attending to his anxious pony Honey. Destiny peered around then shook her head as Mrs Bulmer calmly walked alongside the impatient pony, took hold of the lead rope leading her out into the bright sunshine.

Giles reached out his hand, stroked along the flank of his mount, giving her a pat then whispered a few words of encouragement, unhooking the lead rope to release her and led her down the ramp then walked her around in a wide circle to stretch her legs. Mrs Bulmer walked over to Rose as she sat on the rail of the white picket fence scratching a heart shape around the outside of a letter "G", into the wrinkled bark of a dead gnarled tree stump with the pointed end of a steel comb, "I am off to sign in for the competition to collect your competition numbers Rose, could you please give Destiny a sponge down to cool here down a bit", Rose got up, placing the steel comb into her back jean pocket, huffed a heavy sigh then replied, "O.K. Mrs Bulmer," taking a slow walk over to the horse box she retrieved a large galvanised bucket and sponge then joined the queue to one of the many standpipes.

Rose looked around at the competition, she realised how tough the event would be after all, it was her first event ever, the only other experience of competition she had was against the other riders at Mrs Bulmer's riding school. The wet bedraggled looking Giles joined her in the queue, Rose laughed at the end result of her handy work "Wow, I like the new wet look Giles". Ignoring her remark he nudges Rose on the arm and gestures towards the very prim and proper tall blonde lad filling his bucket, "That`s Barrington Upton Smythe, no one has beaten him in a jumping event in years". Rose just chewed her lip, looking the posh lad up and down saying, "Upton you say, he`s certainly looks up something alright, we will have to see just how good he is, he won`t beat you Giles, you're just to good". Feeling bolstered by her encouraging words Giles looked into Roses' sincere eyes, realising just how much she believed in him. It seemed strange that the insecure little girl he once knew was now practising everything he once preached to her so many years ago. Gradually reaching the front of the queue they filled their buckets with water, they began chatting seriously about their coming routines and the best way to apply their riding strategies as they walked back to refresh their ponies.

Returning back to the horsebox, Giles looked at his bucket with a knowing grin on his face, grabbing hold of it he pours' the ice cold contents all over her head, "You like the wet look do you Rose" dropping the bucket upon the floor Giles ran off as fast as he could, Rose stood stiff clenching her fists tightly with her arms at her side in a state of total shock, staring out angrily through her limp raven locks, dripping wet from head to foot like something from a 70's horror movie. Squeaking in her sodden trainers Rose made her way uncomfortably drenched around to the back of the horsebox in search of Giles the phantom super soaker.

Giles hid at the back of the transporter doubled up with laughter totally oblivious to Rose who stood at the end of the trailer with a fresh bucket of water in her hands getting ready to take revenge. Rose shouted out, "Giles Meakin, I nominate you to take the ice bucket challenge", as she released the freezing cold torrent of water all over him. "Not so funny now is it laughing boy". Looking like a wet mop head, Giles marched straight up to her face, kissing her on the cheek he said, "Want to get your own back on that," then disappeared to get changed, leaving a very damp and confused Rose standing like a statue at the back of the trailer staring into space. Giles changed into a pair of shorts and his favourite Electric Warrior T shirt, placing his wet clothes on the white picket fence to dry in the full heat of the sun he stood shaking his head like a head banger at a rock concert trying to remove all the excess water from his wet untidy mop. Doe eyed Rose stood combing her raven locks as she watched him from a distance with a dopey besotted look on her face, sighing like the love struck teenager she was. Her fantasy was interrupted by Mrs Bulmer walking towards her waving her hands in the air as she approached her, smiling, "Here we go people, Giles, could you stop doing that silly dance and come here please, I have your competition number", Giles felt a little confused by her remark as he made his way towards her. "Number12 for you my dear boy and lucky number 13, just for you Rose," taking her number, Rose looked at it and shook her head in dismay, "How is that lucky Mrs Bulmer?, of all the numbers I could of had, I end up with this one," Mrs Bulmer placed her arm around her shoulder saying comfortingly, "This my dear is the date I found Destiny, the very day I rescued her, so I beg to differ Rose this is the luckiest number in the competition young lady," Rose looked up confidently with a more positive attitude, smiling she said, "I'm going to win today Mrs Bulmer, I just know it, I sense it in my bones", Destiny interrupted the conversation with a loud whinny, Mrs Bulmer squeezed Rose tightly and looked over toward the pony, " Even she agrees," Mrs Bulmer hugged them both, "Come on you two, time to get watered and fed, get that bag of yours Rose time for some of those yummy cakes you're grandmother made us all".

Rose climbed up into the cab retrieving the large black goodie bag, passing it carefully down to Giles as he licked his chops with the thought of the yummy tasty treats inside. Mrs Bulmer set up a small white metal folding table and chairs, placing them in the full shade of the horse transporter, making for the perfect spot to indulge in a picnic lunch of the wonderful cakes and sandwiches Rose`s grandmother had lovingly made them all. Placing the cakes upon a large white paper plate, the over eager Giles snatches one up in his grabbing hand, finding his rude behaviour immediately chastised by Mrs Bulmer, "Giles", slapping the back of his hand, she snaps, just as he prepares to sink his teeth into a cream slice. "Giles, gentleman always offer a lady a cake first, so if you please put the cake back on the plate, we will all start again shall we please take a seat young man". Giles returned the confection to the plate as Rose giggled at his embarrassment, red faced Giles picked up the plate, there was only one cream slice on it, he offered it up to Mrs Bulmer, "Cream Slice Mrs Bulmer?", "No thank you, I would like one of those tasty éclairs please", as she smiled, removing one from the plate. Giles then made the same offer to Rose, "Cream Slice", Rose refused the offer, settling for a large apple turnover instead, "Thanks Giles".

Rose looks teasingly at Giles as he stares at the cream slice on the plate, "Giles, it seems no one likes it, but you can have it". Mrs Bulmer smiles at Rose as they both watch Giles pick up the cream slice very tentatively, examines it lovingly with his big wide eyes, before taking a huge bite out of it, putting it away as if his very life depended on it, leaving him with a cream covered face, grinning from ear to ear.

Destiny and Honey stood contentedly in the shade, shooing away flies with their tails, munching away on the fresh hay filled nets hanging from the side of the horse transporter. The day was very hot the heat seemed to draw out everyone's energy with the shear intensity of it as countless numbers of people refreshed their dehydrated bodies with all manner of beverages as the summer sun beat down on them relentlessly. The arena was partly covered, the lucky few who chose to sit in the back stalls sat contentedly in the cool shade catching the occasional breeze as the sun worshippers and bare chested jack the lads, stewed under the sheer heat of the midday sun.

The hustle and bustle in the arena was broken by the high pitched whistle from the p.a. system as a sound technician tapped the side of the old silver vintage ribbon microphone, raising his voice he says, "Testing, testing,1,2,3, testing", as the volume rises and falls until the soundman finds an acceptable level. The day was moving on, soon it would be time for Giles to ready himself for the coming event as the well groomed announcer walked out into the arena stepped up on to the podium and stood in front of the microphone, the screeching sound of the feedback whistled around the arena, unscrewing the wing nut on the side of the microphone stand, adjusts it then begins to address the very large crowd gathered before him "We have all gathered here today for an open competition for young disabled riders from the locality to compete for one of the most competitive events in our local equestrian calendar, it will consist of three separate categories, a prize will be awarded for each one individually. The schedule today will begin with the open for all categories of ability, The Show Jumping Event, please check your programme for course details, horses, rider's entries, profiles etc. The Dressage event will follow immediately afterwards, it will also be an open to all abilities class, again please check your programme for horse, rider details, there will also be a prize for the best turned out horse and rider. There is a team prize for the highest overall points scored; a trophy will be engraved immediately after the judges decide the winning stable, with the owner, horses and riders names by our local blacksmith Keiron Jones.

Our independent judges today have travelled many a mile to be here, they will oversee all procedures regarding the rules etc., we have a local team of vets to take care of animal welfare, the young team of St Johns ambulance volunteers will be there for you in the event that anyone requires medical assistance, a little mention must go out to, `The Lady Diana`, village school for all the pupils hard work making the colourful programmes for us. I thank you one and all for coming out today to support us, it's a glorious day, so let's all enjoy ourselves and get our local village horse show on the road, Thank you, enjoy the show", the announcer said his final words, stood down from the podium then made his way to the rear exit and disappeared into the shadows.

So many people had turned up on the day that the ice cream man had ran out of ice cream long before the events had even began, luckily most people had brought packed lunches or picnic baskets as the small stalls were also running out of cold drinks and the like, not many people had arrived empty handed, it was only the village new comers who arrived unprepared. Some of the lucky members of the crowd had found their way to a very well shaded spot and sat upon the wooden stalls borrowed from the local church, they were overlooked by several tall pine trees which protected them from the fierce heat. The strange sound of strangled trumpets made the audience wince as the out of tune local boy scouts band played in the first contestant into the jumping arena, if it wasn't for the loud timed beat of the drummer the sound would have been absolutely unbearable. Ten average sized obstacles were arranged around the tight course in a simple figure of eight formation, the fences themselves were not too difficult but the layout, design would test the young rider's metal as to which pony could change legs the quickest and be the fastest on the turns. As each rider set off around the course, the competition became quite intense, though some of the less practised riders missed a few fences or clipped a rail or two; it was a very entertaining and very exciting event to watch.

The younger riders competed with great enthusiasm and determination with no real accidents of any kind to speak about, the less experienced ponies just shied away or refused to jump the more demanding fences, some may have knocked a few poles down but the overall standard was very good, the odd error was expected, after all it was the local village show, not Hickstead or The Horse of the year show.

The judges chalked the results of the competition onto three large blackboards collected from the "'The Lady Diana", village school, the twenty riders on the leader board were headed by non-other than Barrington Upton Smythe, the young lad seemed unbearable at times as he had no qualms in telling the other riders they never had a dogs chance against him as he was just too good, his arrogance was sickening at times. The only rider willing to pick up the gauntlet was Giles's, he was a fighter, he always loved a challenge, the time had come for him to rise to it.

Rose held onto the reins tightly, adjusting the snaffle bit as Giles jumped up off the mounting blocks, Mrs Bulmer assisted him into the saddle, firmly placing his shiny black riding boot into the stirrups. Honey and Giles looked very sharp indeed, both being very well turned out by his conscientious father, Honey breathed in the horsey smells of the arena, standing proudly snorted out loudly, pronouncing to Giles that she was eager and ready for the off, Mrs Bulmer gave Giles some final pointers and wished him well as the announcer called out his name on the p.a.system, Rose looked up smiling at Giles and kisses her white daisy for luck placing it inside his jacket pocket , "You can do it Giles, go on show him who's boss". Honey perks up as Giles tightens the reins, clicking his gentle command, slowly horse and rider enter the ring, moving on to their marker, wait patiently for starters orders, Giles leans forward, rests his hand on his pony's neck, speaking words of quiet encouragement, Honey pricks up her ears as if acknowledging every single word he had said, prepared and ready for the off.

The bell broke the silence, the ringing sound triggering an immediate reaction from Giles foot, feeling the gentle tap of his heels in her side Honey responded immediately, moving off at considerable speed, Giles sat very relaxed in the saddle with his hand, sat low on Honeys` neck, holding the reins light but firmly western style, accommodating for his one arm, he kept his knees soft and his balance above the ponies front legs, lining up the first jump he adjusts his balance slightly, three steps out prepares to jump as Honey gets into her stride, effortlessly clearing the first fence, Giles stays soft in the leg and moves his hips forward in momentum with his pony landing gently on the firm ground returns back down into the saddle.

Turning slightly Giles lines up for the next fence with perfect precision, before flying over the obstacle, they land soundly as he continues speaking quiet words of tender encouragement. Honey pricked up her ears as she settled down into her stride, she changed leg in perfect time ready for the turn, with a simple nudge of Giles heels, she opened her stride, finding another turn of foot, digs in her hooves deep, rising off the dusty ground both horse and rider soar over the obstacle in complete harmony. The crowd cheered them on as they made their way around the tight figure of eight course, Honey found another gear, increasing the pace, carried Giles over the final few fences of the course powered on to the finish in full flight, crossing the finishing line without a single fault, making for a clear round, leaving no fallen fences behind them.

The audience reacted enthusiastically as Giles and his mount Honey slowed down, easing up to a trot, circling the arena before making their way out to a loud generous applause. Rose stands holding a large pale of water in her hands, wearing a beaming smile upon her face with a proud adoring look and a glint in her eye. Mrs Bulmer beckons Giles over to the mounting block waiting to help him dismount from his now steaming hot, sweaty pony, ''Well done young man, jolly well done, I think they have a little competition on their hands, they best watch out you have become a bit of a dark horse my boy''. Rose lifts the heavy bucket up and offers up a cold drink of water to Honey as Giles finds his footing on the mounting blocks, steps down onto good old terra firma, taking the weight off his very thirsty pony, Rose gushes excitedly and slaps him a little to enthusiastically on the back, "Next round for you Giles, I said you could do it."

Giles looks up with a pained expression on his face, "Ouch, what's' that for, get your own back time, not my fault if Mrs Bulmer's' fit is it," Rose seethes then slaps him again for his cheeky comment". Mrs Bulmer looks up and says, "I heard that Giles, come on you two little love birds kiss and make up, before I separate you two", unhooking the roller buckle on the girth strap she removes the well-polished saddle, tucks the sheepskin saddle clothe under her arm, then begins to walk back towards the horse transporter with long strides shouting out as she goes, '' Hurry up you two, no more arguing, times moving on, we have lots to do'''. Giles and Rose stood either side of Honey as they both took up the reins, leading the now refreshed pony away from the hustle and bustle of the noisy arena. Honeys' nose followed the half-filled bucket as they both followed Mrs Bulmer at their own pace, ignoring her comment Rose continued to argue over Giles wondering eye, as she caught him steeling another look as Mrs Bulmer's well firm butt, Rose bit her lip, stamped her foot hard on the floor, "Giles, stop it will you", giving the jealous girl an innocent look, he replied, "What, what" and grinned to himself.

The day moved on, the leader board of the jumping event seemed to be almost identical to the three previous years, same names, the same ponies, dominating the top of the list was the infamous local legend, Barrington Upton Smythe. The number of contestants had now whittled down to only half of the original twenty with some riders missing fences, others suffering from minor injuries and many having unclear rounds, Giles felt very confident in Honey's jumping ability, his own lack of confidence was now bolstered by the many slaps on the back and positive comments he had received as he walked back to the horse transporter from his close family, friends but most of all the encouraging words from Rose Dapple. Arriving back at the horsebox, Rose and Giles changed into their dry clothes which was more fitting, after all mucking out was not one of the cleanest jobs in the world; Giles had another round to do later that day, so he wanted to look his best. Sitting in the cool shade at the back of the horse transporter Giles father sat buffering away on a pair of black riding boots, lifting his hand to his forehead he wiped away the stinging sweat as it rolled down his temple into his eyes, spitting into the black melted boot polish he rubs another layer onto the supple leather, the ex-horse guard would not be letting the side down today, after all in the past his kit had been good enough for her majesty the queen, so today he had no worries about impressing the local judges.

Giles lay out stretched on the grass chewing on the end of a piece of dry straw mulling over how he could shave a few seconds off his time, speed, timing was all the event was really about now the preliminary round was all over, it was horse and rider against the second hand of the clock, if he could make a good start the most obvious place to cut the time was on the turn, so Giles knew what he had to do, but accomplishing it would be another matter altogether.

Getting up from the hard sun baked ground Giles walked over to the nearest stand pipe, forcing on the squeaky tap some nice person had over tightened, the air hammer rattled its way along the air locked pipe, the water slowly chugged its way up to the tap, eventually releasing its contents in noisy irregular spurts, Giles lowered his head underneath the ice cold water, cooling him down from the intense heat of the day. Shutting off the high pitched whistling tap, a long shadow was cast upon the ground before him, raising his head up slowly Giles peered through his thick black locks of sodden curls into the demonic Gorgons gaze of none other than Barrington Upton Smythe himself. Upton stood arrogantly with his arms crossed holding a riding crop, wearing a big cheesy grin, like a character from one of Giles super hero comics, "I've asked the maid to make a space in the display case, it seems there is just so much silver in it we just don't seem to have any more room", Giles just looked at the big teethed, thick headed blond, ''Best buy a new cabinet then, oh, by the way, also ask daddy to buy a bigger front door, Upton grinned, '' Oh, why is that then loser? '', replied the arrogant, spoiled brat, ''Well you will need it for the new cabinet and also to get that big head of yours through'', said Giles sarcastically.

Upton walked up to Giles face and stood eye to eye with him fuming, ''Well your no more than pond life to me boy, a bottom feeder and if I want to hear your dumb arse, stupid remarks or want you to open that smart mouth of yours to speak to me, I will just rattle your cage'', as he held a leather riding crop to Giles throat, prodding him he finally said,'' I will show you thick head''', then walked off slapping the crop on his thigh, like the bullying Flashman from Tom Browns School Days.

Rose rushed over and called out to Giles, 'Are you alright Giles, what was that all about'', sweeping his thick wet hair back out of his eyes Giles replied,'' It's nothing I can't deal with Rose, he was just trying to be the big I am and intimidate me, he's about as scary as a boiled egg and I eat them for breakfast''.

Rose laughed as Giles walked over towards her pulling a silly face, mimicking Upton, Rose rubbed his wet hair and said, ''I still think you look like a dog'', Giles began to growl, Rose started to run away from him, pressed two fingers against her folded tongue and whistled, 'Hear boy'', she shouted , clapped her hands, upon her knees.

Giles growled again and chased after her like they were still kids at kinder garden, they ran around in a circles until they fell to the ground totally exhausted, giggling like a couple of nursery children in the school playground, Rose began tickling him, rubbing his tummy he sat up and kissed her on the lips, "Good boy" she said with a smile.

Mrs Bulmer watched on, as she sat with Mr and Mrs Meakin, sharing some of the cakes and sandwiches made especially for the day by Roses' grandmother. Rose and Giles continued with their playful antics as they teased and flirted with one another on the grass, Mrs Meakin released the single button on her mandarin collar fanning herself with the horse show programme, "Ah, how sweet'', she sighed, '' To be young again with not a care in the world'', Mrs Bulmer smiled,'' Yes, so true not a care in the world'', Destiny became a little restless as she turned her head and stared out from the shaded corner of the horse box, Giles tickled Rose on the ear with a buttercup, Destiny stamped her hoof heavily upon the metal floor, snorting out loudly as if reminding them both she was still there, tugging on a clump of hay, she shook her head to release it, and looked away nonchalantly from the playful pair, then munched away contentedly on the fresh hay.

Giles looked at his heavy chrome Marc Bolan watch realising it was almost time to ready himself and get changed for his final ride of the day, standing up he reached out and offered his hand to Rose, ''Oh!, how sweet, what a little gent", Mrs Bulmer said, "That's' my boy", John smiled at his wife, nudging her with a very proud look on his face. Rose and Giles raced each other back to the smiling group of onlookers, puffing loudly, they both pulled out a seat and sat down in the cool shade, Mrs Bulmer placed a plate of sandwiches in front of them then offered them both a sugar covered doughnut, "Come on you two, eat up, you need all the energy you can get, especially with all that running about", Mr Meakin agreed "Yes it wore me out just watching you", Mrs Meakin added, "Yes, me too." Rose tucked into her sandwiches enthusiastically, giggling loudly as Giles fought off the very annoying jasper as it buzzed around his doughnut as if it was possessed. Mrs Meakin shooed it away with the scrolled up programme, Giles quickly eat up the sugary treat, wiping the sugar from his lips with a tissue, then in a mad rush he got stuck into his sandwiches, gulping them all down with a rather warm glass of milk, the contents of the glass dribbling down his chin as he tried to finish it off quickly just in case the manic buzzing insect returned. Honeys' tack was very impressive, after all John was an expert with many years of experience, not only did he learn to clean leather being an ex-horse guard, he also learned over his years in service to his queen and country not only to repair bridles but how to make them. Army training made him a perfectionist; he learned the greatest lesson was that you never let the side down as one mistake would have consequences for not only yourself but the whole team. John had become so well-known over the years for his leather work after leaving the forces he opened up his own saddlery business and began making bridles to order in all shapes and sizes, eventually selling his own brand, of saddles and bridles his credentials for cleaning and making horse tack look pristine was second to none.

Giles stood in the doorway of the horse box, watching his father with great admiration, it inspired him even more to do his best for him, after all his father had given him one hundred per cent effort, now it was Giles turn to do the same for him, hoping Honey would give him the ride of his life, he wanted so desperately to please him and beat his rival, Barrington Upton Smythe. "Honey looks amazing Dad", Giles said, as he watched his father adjusting the stirrup leathers, "Yep, she's going to stun those judges like a one inch punch, they won't know what's' hit them", Giles laughed, as he posed like his father's favourite marshal artists as he screamed like demented cat, trying to sound like Bruce Lee, a smile began to break out across his father's face he laughed "I'm glad you're really good at riding a horse Giles, because your impersonations are really crap",Giles took no offence at not having the skills to impersonate Bruce Lee, but he still had the ability to make his father laugh.

Making small talk the father and son prepared to take on the day and the task ahead of them was quite a formidable one, for all the joyful banter, it was time they began to talk seriously about the matter in hand, the conversion turned business like as they walked down the horsebox ramp primed and ready, John stretched out his arms he yawned widely taking a huge intake of breathe, filling his lungs with the fresh country air, "Time for the off son, just stay cool, calm and collected, just remember whatever you do don't panic, you're in control so just be relaxed, then it will all run like clockwork", giving Giles a big hug then slaps him firmly on the back. Mrs Bulmer walked with Rose behind Honey chatting away to Giles mother about how well groomed the chestnut pony was, Mrs Meakin said, "Honey reminds me of the horse John use to ride when on duty at Horse guards parade , she was at least eighteen hands but what a beauty, I reckon John loved that horse more than he did me at times I'm surprised he didn't marry the thing", They all laughed, John piped up, "I heard that", Laughing and joking they continued on their way, all arriving at the arena in a very happy frame of mind, just in time for the announcer calling out over the p.a., " If you please, rider number twelve, Giles Meakin, riding Honey". Stepping out into the dry dusty ring Giles removed his hat in respect for the judges and bowed his head, replacing it, awaited the starting bell, tapping his pocket for luck.

The silence was broken as the bell rang, Honey shot off like a bullet from a gun, sailing over the first fence with ease, Giles gave her a little nudge with his heels as they approached the second fence, accelerating the pony towards the oncoming fence as horse and rider bounded off the ground, catapulting over the obstacle with ease, changing legs and pace Honey turned towards the third fence, shaving precious seconds off the clock as the second hand appeared to move in slow motion with drama of it all. The partnership of horse and rider where now in the zone, Honey breathed in heavily as she sped towards fence four, her hooves thundering like a runaway train as the adrenaline kicked in, increasing the blood flow to her powerful heart, sending it pulsing through her veins, every muscle and sinew stretched to its fullest as the gallant ponies back leg muscles exploded with the power stored up in abundance within every spring loaded fibre. Giles tucked his head in as the powerful force of Honeys' hind legs launched them both off the ground with ease, effortlessly clearing the fence with room to spare, leaving it behind them in their dusty wake, lining up for the next fence, the speeding pony opened up her stride, rising up a little too close to the fence , clipping it hard, luckily her tendon boots gave great protection as the rail caught her foot, it bounced up out of its' holding before falling back into place as Honey hit the ground running, Giles felt his heart skip a beat as he heard the second rail fall back into place behind him, his pony changed legs at amazing speed for the final turn to take on the last few fences Giles prepared himself to take on the next challenging obstacle..

Concentration was the name of the game as Giles with grit and determination found another gear pushing his pony onward with great power and speed, leaping over the penultimate fence he drove Honey on hard, lining up the last fence with total precision he sailed over the fence, shaving vital seconds of the ticking clock. Easing up slowly Giles turned off the power bringing Honey to a gentle stop then patted his beautiful filly for giving him the best performance he could ever have wished for, taking off his hat he steadied himself in his stirrups, stood up and saluted the very appreciative audience. The crowd roared as the judges approved the official time placing Giles ahead of the leader board by almost 2 seconds, smiling Giles saluted the audience, making his way back to a very exited group of people as his mother and father ran to greet him, Rose stood excitedly next to Mrs Bulmer blowing a kiss as they both cheered loudly, clapping enthusiastically in celebration of the young man's amazing ride.

The celebration was short lived as the p.a. system buzzed back into life, the announcer called out loudly above the noisy crowd, "If you please, contestant number one, Barrington Upton Smyth riding his pony Sun Tzu", the happy group became silent as they made their way uneasily to a good vantage point, they all prepared themselves to watch the final horse and rider take on the course with only seconds to fight for, they all realised that Upton would not give up the fight easily, after all he had been there and done it all, three years in a row. As unlikeable as Upton was, he was still a very formidable force to be reckoned with, Upton believed he had the power to destroy all he saw beneath him, after all they were just pond life to him, not only was he out to destroy Giles best time but to push him back into the pecking order of the local equestrian world. Upton had always been top dog around here, he saw it as his domain, no one was going to rain on his parade, especially today, now ready to prove he was master of all he surveyed, only his performance and the second hand on the clock would decide as the bell rang out breaking the pent up tension of the crowd, the clock was now ticking.

Digging in deep with his heels Upton bullied his mount into life as he took on the first fence, firing off like the missile from a trebuchet with a very aggressive attitude. After all this pony was just a tool to be used just like a weapon, to him competition was war but disguised with a different name. Like the ponies name sake, the Chinese general Sun Tzu, he had a strategy to win and that meant winning at all cost, that was Upton's' way. Pushing on hard the pony stared with fear in its' wild eyes, again Upton drove in hard and deep with his heels, jarring the pony into action, shortening his stride he takes his black stallion in hand, launching him over the oncoming fence. Like its' black shadow, Sun Tzu eat up the distance between the fences as it moved across the open ground with powerful strides like an unstoppable war machine, the seconds ticked away on the arena clock, each fence attacked with full on aggression, cleared with ease as the powerful stallion built up a heavy sweat in the fierce heat of the midday sun, its' heart went into overdrive, under pressure the blood pulsed through its' veins, driven onwards by the forceful, determined riders unyielding hand,. Each stride, each turn each jump, marking time on the clock as the second hand, ticked menacingly towards the winning time, Barrington Upton Smyth forced the dark horse into action as they tackled the next fence, he was now in total control as he rode fearlessly at the obstacle ahead of him taking it on with the horses powerful open strides.

Like a juggernaut with no breaks, Upton screamed his commands at Sun Tzu, forcing him into a new line of attack, like one of the 600 at Balaclava, charging fearlessly onwards, attacking the fences with his relentless, punishing and very demanding riding . Upton became more erratic and reckless as he careered headlong towards the fences, his whole riding strategy had gone out the window, now totally overtaken and consumed by his no holds barred ambition to win. Upton was a proud young man, driven on by his massive ego, he could not afford lose to a lesser mortal like Giles Meakin; after all he thought he was just too good for that, they say pride always comes before a fall; riding at speed towards the last fence Upton was just about to take one.

Driving on hard and digging in deep, the second hands swept across the enamel clock face, every tick of the clock, every second seemed to pass in slow motion as the manic rider savagely digs his heels in even harder in an attempt to shave seconds of the ticking clock, his ferocity sending a shockwave through Sun Tzu s' nerve endings, the sharp pain courses through the stallions beaten body, he pig foots, missing his stride and hesitates, rising up awkwardly off the hard ground, Sun Tzu's' legs buckle up beneath him, hitting the fence full on, catapulting Upton out of the saddle like a human cannonball making impact upon the hard ground he comes crashing down out of his throne, like Humpty Dumpty, smashing not only his unbeaten record but leaving his ego broken in pieces and shattered upon the floor. Upton's no holds barred aggressive riding had cost him dearly, letting his ambition and determination to win overrule his own common sense, his attitude had been to win at all costs, sadly it had become his undoing, now he would have to pay the ultimate price of instant elimination Getting back up from the hard ground, Sun Tzu appeared totally unscathed by the sudden impact and totally oblivious to his rider's fate, sniffing the air his sensitive nostrils flared out, attracted to the irresistible scent of the mares in the distant paddock carried tantalisingly towards him by the cool breeze. Side stepping Upton, the over excited stallion ignores his fallen rider's efforts to catch him, trotting off indifferently with his head high in the air he galloped off freely around the edge of the arena, making his way in search of the source of the musky smell.

The somewhat battle beaten stallion was chased down by one of the officials, waving his arms up and down like a penguin as he tried to corral him in a corner at the far end of the arena, the intelligent Sun Tzu ran rings around the hot flustered gentleman, leaving him exhausted with his hands resting on his haunches gasping for breath, as the black stallion followed his nose down the tunnel entrance, making his way out of the arena in search of the paddock of his dreams.

Giles became very excited as he realised that Upton's horrendous mistake had landed him first place in the competition, some may of thought Giles was very lucky to of won at all, Upton's time appeared to be very fast indeed but once Sun Tzu hit the floor it was game over. The reality was Giles and Honey where seconds ahead on time and still would have come out on top, even if he wasn't disqualified.

Upton stood up proudly dusted himself down then adjusted his tie, running his sweaty palms through his thick blonde hair, he flicked his golden quiff arrogantly, making his way back towards the paddock area as the announcer called out the final results of the jumping competition over the p.a system. Upton stopped mid stride and listened to the end results with a disgruntled look on his face, "In first place number 12, Giles Meakin, riding his pony, Honey", the announcement continued, ending with a list of disqualified riders, Upton's' name being the very last one of them.

The brow beaten and bruised Upton looked around the arena moaning to himself, "You wait Sun Tzu, you just wait, bloody stupid horse", seething and gritting his teeth, he watched Giles from a distance in mid celebration, being patted on the back by well-wishers, he kicked the dry earth, slapping his thigh with his leather riding glove he marched off towards the paddock area in total disbelief at the final outcome of the event, ready to get even with his over excited black stallion Sun Tzu.

Making their way back from the arena Giles removed the lucky charm from his pocket and placed it behind Roses' ear, "Thank you Rose I think it worked," as he pecked her on the cheek, Rose looked up shyly, taking him by the hand she kissed him back, then grabbing hold of Honeys reins patted the pony gently, the happy group discussed the day's events and the downfall of the local champion Barrington Upton Smythe, all hoping Sun Tzu was uninjured after his terrible fall. Mrs Bulmer was so concerned by the accident she felt compelled to approach Upton's' parents immediately, hoping to make a successful offer to buy the pony, the beautiful black stallion reminded her so much of Bonham, Mrs Bulmer was now on tenterhooks awaiting a phone call from the lad's mother.

The day so far had been an eventful one, they had already participated in the best of show, they all felt in a very confident mood, Giles father had been very diligent and pulled out all the stops to make their ponies show stoppers, they would just have to be patient and wait for the final results at the end of the day. It all seemed to be going their way, Giles was now a winner in the show jumping arena, Rose was yet to ride on Destiny, she believed that she was now as ready as she could ever be, Giles amazing triumph over Upton had bolstered her confidence no end, if Giles could do it, so could she from now on nothing seemed impossible.

Rose waited patiently for Mrs Bulmer who was getting dressed up in all her finery, she chose a little black number with a well cut light linen jacket with a gold Georg Jensen horse broach on the lapel, the handmade suite showed off her substantial bosom and her very well maintained figure as she stepped out into the bright sunshine John gave her a sideways glance, "If you were up for best in show Mrs B, the judges would be giving you a medal already", John felt a sharp dig in his ribs, standing right next to him was his wife, Giles and Rose, all staring him down with daggers, with a nervous cough, John rocked on his heels, ,and whistled with his hands in his pockets he looked at Mary and exclaimed, "What".

The only reply he got was a shrug from his wife's shoulders as she went off in a huff, Rose looked at Giles and said, "See you're not the only one who fancies her". Mrs Bulmer walked over with her arms crossed rather matronly, "Some ones in the dog house", Giles and Rose looked at each other and began to howl out loudly, John, not seeing the funny side gave them both a very stern dismissive look, feeling embarrassed the two teenagers became suddenly silent and slipped away into the horsebox with their tails between their legs, stifling their laughter with their hands.

John seemed a little unlike his jovial self, turning away from Mrs Bulmer with a dejected look on his face, following his son and Rose into the horsebox, Mrs Bulmer tapped him on the shoulder, "John, tell her I'm going to wear my galoshes with my sou'wester hat they should go well with this suit". John looked up with a side glance, "Yeah, I think I will, that will break the ice Mrs B". Mrs Bulmer listened intently as roars of laughter emanated from the horsebox, out came a smiling Mrs Meakin, throwing her arms around Mrs Bulmer she looked her up and down, "Well, I could well imagine that, if it was good enough for George Duncan's Sunbury farm, then it's good enough for here", chuckling like a pair of giddy school girls they began to reminisce about their rock festival days in Australia, arm in arm the old friends took a long walk down memory lane. They remembered when Mrs Meakin became her dresser in the early days at the academy in London; she often invited her to attend rock festivals all over the world.

Mrs Bulmer had danced on stage quite often for some of the underground bands of the time long before they became known and established in their own right, they both recalled seeing the lead singer of Deep Purple David Coverdale in the flesh, they couldn't get over how tall he was, his jeans were so tight he was lucky he didn't burst a blood vessel as he screamed out, Stormbringer, with his powerful voice, sadly their head banging days were long gone but the happy memories lived on. Rose appeared from the horse transporter dressed ready in a well-tailored black show jacket, looking immaculate as she strode down the ramp, making her way across the open grass towards a gleeful Mrs Bulmer chatting with a now smiling Mrs Meakin. Rose listened intently for some time, trying to hide her blushes, before eventually finding the nerve to politely interrupt, changing the subject of the conversation as it took on a more serious tone, all picking the bones over the detail of Roses' dressage routine, preparing her for the event to come.

Mrs Bulmer adjusted the flat knot of the white stock around Roses neck," Rose I have a special gift for you", she removed the vintage gold Georg Jensen stock pin of a race horse from her lapel, "This is a gift from me, I hope it gives you all the luck it has given me over the years, since my mother gave it to me", she pushed the pin in firmly into place. "This is for all the hard work and the effort you have put in over the years darling, I want you to know, if God had blessed me with a daughter, I could not of wished for one so dedicated and as beautiful as you, my little English Rose.", Mrs Bulmer stood back placed her hands upon Roses' shoulders, smiling, she kissed her gently on the cheek.

Knocking the wind out of her sails, Rose gave Mrs Bulmer a great big bear hug, squeezing her tightly she said,'' Thank you, how can I ever repay you Mrs Bulmer", gasping for breath she replied, "That's' easy Rose, try your best, smile for the judges , most of all have fun out there and you can't go wrong". Rose hugged her again, releasing her vice like grip she looked down at her lucky charm as the sunlight winked across it, she walked off towards her beloved pony Destiny, feeling uplifted with a smile on her face, she said to herself, "Ready girl, lets' make this something special just for her".

Breathing in a deep breath, Mrs Bulmer marched off behind her, taking a white monogrammed handkerchief, she wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye, sniffed then, blew her nose loudly, taking control of her emotions once more, she put her business head back on again, concentrating her thoughts on nothing but her horse, rider and the dressage event to come. Rose pulled the lead rope and unhooked it from the large O-ring then took Destiny down the gentle slope of the ramp, making her way towards a shady spot beneath a nearby willow tree, attached the lead rope to one of the white rails of the fence beneath it.

"Good spot Rose", Mrs Bulmer called out, as she approached them carrying the well-polished tack tucked tightly under her arm. Rose smiled as Mrs Bulmer placed the saddle clothe on the ponies back, before she carefully and securely put the saddle in its' place, double checking the girth strap and adjusting the stirrup leathers making them comfortable for both the horse and rider, Mrs Bulmer patted the saddle, "There you go that's' a nice fit Rose, nice and secure", the pony seemed to agree as she shook her head and neighed. Removing the lead rope, Rose passed it to Mrs Bulmer, carefully placing the snaffle bit into the pony's mouth, Rose spoke in quiet tones to Destiny as she adjusted the bridle around her head, speaking encouraging words like a mantra, the ponies intelligent eyes lit up focusing on Roses' every word, Mrs Bulmer patted the pony on the neck and walked away towards the horsebox. Destiny took a few steps back as Mrs Bulmer's' mobile phone rang out loudly, "Hello Mrs Bulmer, Edwina Upton Smythe here, it seems it really is your lucky day, Barrington has decided to let Sun Tzu go, he said, he is just so uncontrollable, he wants nothing more to do with him anymore, so if you're still interested we can run him over to you tomorrow."

Mrs Bulmer was over the moon, "O.K. Edwina, see you first thing tomorrow", punching the air Mrs Bulmer shouted to the heavens, "Yes, saved another one", span around elegantly on her heels then made her way towards the horse box, smiling like a cat that just got the cream. Rose walked around to the back of the horsebox and checked to make sure no one was watching her, she picked up an old length of plaited chord from the tack box; smiling to herself she tied it in a loop, "Perfect," she said to herself and hid it way inside her pocket.

After some considerable time Mrs Bulmer reappeared wearing a beautiful summer dress, puzzled by her change of attire, Rose looked her up and down, "Where's the black dress". Mrs Bulmer began to twirl like a flamenco dancer as she took off a big straw hat from her head, "Don't want to upset the neighbours now, do we young lady, well Rose, what do you think"? Rose replied with a beaming smile on her face, "Wow, you look amazing Mrs Bulmer, love the hat, especially the red rose".

. Mrs Bulmer looked absolutely stunning, for all her years she was still an elegant, feminine woman, as the gentle breeze lightly blew her dress, she stood under the dappled light of the willow tree, and Rose looked on and said "You're beautiful Mrs Bulmer". Placing her hat upon Roses head, she gave her a big hug, "Thank you, you are too my little English Rose", Destiny swished her tail and whinnied as if trying to draw all the attention back to herself, just like a spoiled child, releasing her grip Mrs Bulmer threw her arms around the ponies neck, "Love you too jealousy", as she kissed the dapple grey pony and stroked her gently patting her on the neck.

Taking the reins off Rose, Mrs Bulmer walked out of the protective shade of the giant willow tree, "Have you got your white gloves Rose," walking across to the horse transporter Rose retrieved her black velvet safety helmet from the drivers cabin, tucked inside were her white gloves, picking them up, she waved them in the air shouting, "Found them Mrs Bulmer," pulling the supple white leather gloves over her slender finger tips she focused on what she was about to do, she wished her parents and grandparents could be there, her grandparents had to look after the bakery as Rose's father had to attend her brother's funeral in Scotland, Rose knew in her heart they would have been there for her, but unforeseen circumstances had dictated otherwise.

Rose picked up her riding helmet and shouted out to Mrs Bulmer, "I'm ready", walking steadily towards the arena, the immaculate trio left the relative quiet behind them as they entered the noisy hustle and bustle of the crowd of horses and riders backstage. Giles stepped out of the dark shadows with a beaming smile on his face, still pleased with himself for winning the show jumping event earlier that day. Mrs Bulmer called out, "I wonder what you're smiling about, Mr first prize" Giles just shrugged his shoulders as he walked towards them like the joker from a batman comic, manically grinning from ear to ear as he relieved the downfall of Barrington Upton Smythe.

Mrs Bulmer whispered quietly into Destiny's ear, steadying Roses' beloved mount; Giles made his way over and assisted Rose as she climbed up steadily into the saddle from the mounting blocks. Smiling, Giles looked up into Roses sparkling blue like eyes, holding up a shiny silver heart attached to a piece of fine leather he kissed it and put it inside her jacket pocket, "Keep a little Marc in your heart," then blew her a kiss, Rose caught it in her white gloved hand, held it to her chest and smiled, Giles stepped away and looked up laughing "Are you forgetting something Rose, looking down she said, "What Giles", Giles patted his head, "The hat Rose".

Rose smiled and laughed at herself, "What a doughnut," removing it she gave the straw hat back to Mrs Bulmer, looking a little down in the mouth she murmured, " I'm feeling nervous Mrs Bulmer," looking into Roses worried eyes she replied, "When I first danced in front of a huge audience, I felt scared too Rose, then I remembered what my mother once said to me as a child; whenever you feel scared you are never truly alone, how can you be, when God is in the room, so remember Rose someone is always watching over you out there, even if you cannot see them, so don't worry, your be just fine, now go and show them judges what you're truly made of".

As she handed Rose her riding hat Mrs Bulmer held back a tear and stood proudly looking up at the final outcome of four years hard work and discipline. From the heartbreak of finding a broken pony and the heart ache of a little girl in callipers, something amazing was created; the stage was set, now it was their time to shine. Like a diamond in the rough, something beautiful was fashioned by an unseen hand, one of love, passion and the desire to believe that nothing was impossible, both pony and rider were ready to demonstrate to the equestrian world what their close partnership had truly become. The announcer called out above the noisy crowd, "Now for the next competitor number 13, Rose Dapple riding her pony Destiny". Charged with emotion Mrs Bulmer waved as Rose disappeared into the tunnel, Giles and Mr Bulmer joined his parents and the confident group all set off to find a good vantage point to watch Rose and her pony with great expectation with nervous anticipation as they waited to watch their first dressage performance in front of the judges and a very large crowd.

For some odd reason Rose stopped midway up the tunnel then climbed off the pony's back, hurriedly she removed her hat, riding boots and all the horses leather tack, then placed it all on the arena fence, retrieving the plaited chord from her jacket pocket she placed it loosely around Destiny's neck. Climbing back on board the now naked bare back pony she retrieved her grandfather's floral gift from her jacket pocket and placed it behind her ear.

The atmosphere was electric as the silhouette of a horse and rider came up the tunnel of the arena entrance, stepping forward out of the shadows into the light, the tense atmosphere in the arena was broken by the rising sound effects of wind punctuated by the sound of thunder as it echoed from the loud speakers creating a stunned silence around the whole arena.

Destinys whole body appeared to glow like a halo with the intensity of the bright sunlight, reflecting of her dazzling white coat, as she made her way to the centre of the hushed arena; Rose bowed to the audience as the audience gasped in a state of shock, followed by a pause of deathly silence.

Removing the flower from behind her ear, Rose held the white daisy up to the heavens, saying a personal prayer, "Lord, please show them the reason you saved us, show them your glory through us, Amen", then crossed herself and blew a kiss towards the sky; Destiny stood proudly, lifting her head up she whinnied as a pure white Dove appeared in the cloudless azure blue sky, patting her gently on the neck Rose smiled, she knew God was in the room. Placing Grandads' lucky gift back behind her ear Rose waited for her cue to begin, her very odd, contemporary dressage routine; her pony settled down, taking one step backwards as the puzzled audience gasped thinking the whole show was over, watched on dumbstruck, wondering what the hell the crazy young girl and the pony were doing.

Destiny stretched out her front leg and lowered herself gently to the floor and curtseyed, grabbing hold of the plaited chord neck strap, Rose slid back on the pony, disturbing the audience even more, as the pony stood up, everyone stared in disbelief as they prepared themselves to witness one of the most astonishing equestrian routines they would ever witness in their lives. The song Diamonds by Rihanna filled the air, Rose held on tightly with her knees, relaxing she gently tapped her bare heels, the pony responded and began to step out in ones and twos to the rising tempo of the beat, the dapple grey pony moved majestically across the arena floor before pirouetting three times, continuing to step out in ones and twos to the pulsing rhythm, like a child skipping across the arena, reaching the other side like poetry in motion. Rose kept perfect control and balance as they both moved seamlessly in transition like one entity, marching on the spot, Destiny moved in perfect time with the beat she stepped out, changing her stride effortlessly to every pulse of the music as she majestically began moving out into the centre of the arena.

This was not dressage in the ordinary sense, this was natural unbridled dressage, it was as if the pony was ballet dancing as she moved freely without constraints of any kind across the arena floor. Destiny was free, her head was held natural and loose the way nature had always meant it to be. Rose had created such a bond with her pony, just a gesture or whisper was enough to coax her beloved pony to move in any way she wanted, like they were connected by an invisible force flowing between them, it was not magic, it was not magnetism it was the complete synchronicity of two beings coming together, driven by the power of mutual trust and love.

Mrs Bulmer's' heart skipped a beat as she was drawn back in to a mental time warp, Rose and her pony reminded her so much of herself in her younger carefree days, when she rode Bonham bareback across the open fields, feeling as free as a bird, returning back to reality with a tear in her eye, she was lost totally in the moment as she watched on with joy in her heart, absorbed in the majestic beauty and elegance of every step in time of the magical dressage routine, leaving her gasping at the sheer brilliance and imagination of their performance, she sighed as it took her breath away.

Mrs Bulmer was literally astounded, in all her years of competition she had never witnessed such an unusual, amazing performance, even during her training the little pony had never met this standard, now it seemed possessed by the lyrical sound of the music. It appeared nothing was now impossible for the fearless horse and rider, their trust and self-belief in each other had surpassed even Mrs Bulmer's' greatest expectations as she stood in in awe and wonder of all they had become.

Destiny owned the audience, every eye was captivated, transfixed, drawn to every precise move she made, sending shivers of delight and joy down the spines of the very excited crowd as the uplifting sound track filled the air. The magnificent Destiny lifted the crowd's spirits with her free flowing performance, appearing effortlessly to float as she performed her final passage across the arena floor, her radiance shining like a diamond as the summer sunshine created an aura of brilliant light all around her.

Every muscle fibre and sinew tuned to the beat of the music, she made her way around the arena only inches from the perimeter fence, dancing towards the middle of the arena, pirouetting for one last time, bringing their electric performance to a close. Both horse and rider stood centre stage before standing perfectly still; they both lowered themselves and curtseyed. Rose and her beautiful dapple grey pony had touched their very souls, illuminating their lives with joy and happiness finding a home deep inside their hearts; the loud enthusiastic audience cheered and clapped their appreciation.

Rose and Destiny soaked up the atmosphere as the crowd stood up giving them a standing ovation, Giles came rushing towards them and patted Destiny on the withers, congratulating her with a great big hug, kissing her on the neck he whispered "Well done, you did it girl," looking up Giles gave Rose an excited thumbs up and said, "That was bloody mad, you're brilliant Rose, your bloody brilliant,"

Mrs Bulmer stood wiping the tears of joy from her cheeks with a sodden hanky, looking up at Rose with pride and a huge smile on her face, shouting, "Well done young lady, jolly well done, you are absolutely amazing, you really are," she hugged Destiny by the neck and kissed her firmly on the cheek before leading them both out of the arena to a continuous standing ovation they awaited the judges final results.

Waiting with baited breath Mrs Bulmer listened intently as the announcer called out the final results of the dressage competition, the young pony and rider had taken a great risk.

Dumbfounding the judges they seemed at a loss and confused as to what to do, Rose had scored nine's and tens but some judges thought she should have been disqualified for removing the tack at the beginning of the round. The originality and fluidity of their performance had won the judges hearts, they had moved across the arena with impulsion and collection far beyond their years, they showed so much passion in their performance the judges could not but help being impressed by their creativity, voting them into first place as no one had come even close to beating their final score. Mrs Bulmer had just witnessed the greatest young performance she had ever seen in her life it was impressive enough to make even the Greek general Xenophon salute them. If there had ever been such a thing as a dressage child prodigy then Mrs Bulmer's' patient training and gentle nurturing had now revealed one, Rose Dapple truly had become a wunderkind of the equine world. The crowd erupted in celebration as the judges pronounced the final results as both the young horse and rider were led back into the ring by an overwhelmed Mrs Bulmer and an ecstatic Giles. Patting Destiny gently, Rose saluted the crowd and waved enthusiastically as the people cheered, cameras flashed, she found a reflective moment in her mind, holding the white daisy she looked up to the heavens and watched as the white Dove flew off towards the blinding sun, crossing herself she blew a kiss, smiling she said, "Thank you," Destiny raised her front legs, reared up excitedly and whinnied towards the sky.

Giles stood back, capturing the scene for prosperity on his Iphone, Rose placed her arm across her waist and bowed to the appreciative audience, both horse and rider had exceeded all their expectations; they had captivated the audience, leaving an indelible mark in their hearts. Mrs Bulmer led her prize winning team around the perimeter fence to the loud standing ovation, Rose waved one more time to the adoring crowd then disappeared into the long dark tunnel, Mrs Bulmer retrieved the tack, boots and helmet from the fence as Destiny whinnied at the sight of all her restrains. Rose patted the disturbed pony to calm her down as Giles followed close behind, trying to keep a steady image on his Iphone as they all disappeared into the shadowy darkness and relative quiet of the tunnel, leaving the highly charged wall of sound echoing around the arena behind them.

The dynamic duo had given the crowd a performance they could never forget, they had made dressage history and the privileged people who witnessed it would always remember, Rose Dapple and Destiny on one hot summer's day when free dressage was born in a small village in the heart of the English countryside.

Back at the horse transporter Mrs Bulmer began to organise a little snack and drink for them all as Giles and Rose attended to their ponies, the day had turned out to be very rewarding one for all concerned, the atmosphere was full of joy and happiness. After mucking out they cooled the ponies down with a thorough sponging before feeding and watering them, Rose and Giles offered them both a pepper mint each, a very rare treat which they only gave them on a special occasions, this was one such occasion, after all is said and done both the ponies well and truly deserved it. Leaving the two contented ponies to relax they made their way out into the fresh air, mucking out had left a bit of a bad taste in their mouths, on the table sat a well filled jug of iced lemonade with a few slices of lemon floating on top of it, Mrs Bulmer appeared with a plate of cucumber sandwiches and placed them next to the refreshing beverage she had lovingly prepared.

"Help your selves, tuck in you two", Mrs Bulmer topped up three large plastic beakers with lemonade as she sucked on a sharp tasting slice of lemon, Giles laughed at her contorted expression saying, "Nobody likes it but you can have it", Mrs Bulmer grimaced, the sour taste in her mouth making her almost choke up the words, "Not sure if I like it either", They all laughed as Mrs Bulmer spat it out on the floor as she went into a coughing fit leaving her with a face like a sour grape. The day was drawing on and the time was fast approaching for the presentation for the winning riders of both the show jumping and the dressage, the only unknown factors were who would receive the best in show and who had been chosen to receive the engraved cup for the first ever winner of the highest scoring team prize.

Making their way back down to the arena the imposing group walked along the wide path as the winning ponies were led by their riders, Mr Bulmer made pleasant conversation with the Meakins, Giles mother looked smart in the black dress and jacket, Mrs Bulmer gave her as a gift, John found it most acceptable too as he had a crafty side glance, smiling at his wife's very voluptuous figure, remembering he was on a promise.

All was rather amicable between Mr and Mrs Meakin. John had always been a very devoted husband, he had as much chance at straying as a tethered animal, when he said, "Till death us do part", he meant it, the only tether connected to John was to his heart made of love for his wife, that would never be broken, no matter how sexy or good looking another woman looked in a dress she was the love of his life.

The strangled trumpets played as Giles and Rose mounted their ponies and was both led into the arena, the two none celebrities stood totally out of their depth, looking like a pair of Thunderbird puppets as they put on their cheesy smiles, about as genuine as a couple counterfeit £5 notes. The p.a. system painfully screeched as the announcer called out the winning names of the competition, "Please if you can show your appreciation for Giles Meakin and his mount Honey, taking first place for the show jumping event", the so called celebs placed a garland, of red roses around Honeys neck and a red rosette on the side of her bridle, Giles received a small gold plated medal as he wondered who the hell the person was presenting it to him. Rose stood up in her stirrups applauding and smiled warmly as the announcer congratulated Giles once more.

The M.C. continued to announce the names of the runners up as the dopey duo from TV land handed out the prizes in front of the puzzled looking audience as they wondered who the hell they were.

Calling out the final results of the dressage competition the announcer shouted out with great enthusiasm, "What can I say people, the winners are Rose Dapple and Destiny if you please," the announcer continued to bestow many kind words upon them both for their amazing original performance as the crowd stood up giving both horse and rider another standing ovation.

The two nonentities from showbiz land gave Rose her gold plated dressage medal, Giles and Rose laughed as Destiny nudged them both as she tried to eat the garland of roses they hung around her neck, making them trip over the podium steps, receiving a greatly welcomed applause from the very amused, appreciative audience. Giles smiled proudly at his father as Honey received the prize for best turned out horse, Mary held John tightly as her inhibition's disappeared, she kissed him passionately, nibbling his ear she whispered, "Laters", as the penny dropped John smiled and winked with great expectation in his eyes.

After giving the many runner up prizes and places the announcer called out, "Now for the very first time in this local competition, the team prize for the highest number of combined points from one stable, Mrs Bulmer please step forward to the podium, the broad shouldered, leather aproned Keiron Jones stepped forward from the excited crowd he made his way up the wooden steps onto the stage, deliberately barging past the two embarrassed non-celebs, totally ignoring the overrated, overpaid no marks as they stood back with egg on their faces for the first time in their very fortunate lives. The blacksmith approached the winning group, feeling very pleased with himself, carrying the cup he had just painstakingly engraved and cleaned with great pride. Reaching up with a heartfelt, genuine smile on his face, he handed the cup to his friend, the local unselfish heroin for the disabled, Mrs Bulmer, he kissed her on the cheek, whispering in her ear "Well done Mrs Bulmer, well done," Rose and Giles smiled and grimaced as the blacksmith firmly took their hands in his vice like grip and congratulated them both, not realising his own strength. Mary and John Meakin kissed each other on the lips and watched as their best friend proudly received the well-deserved winners' cup, the happy Mrs Bulmer gripped the handles of the golden prize, with tears of joy streaming down her cheeks she held it in the air. The crowd roared its' appreciation as the ecstatic Giles and Rose waved in celebration, Honey and Destiny stood proudly with their heads held up high, whinnied and shook their heads as the golden chalice was held aloft and glinted in the evening sun.
CHAPTER FOUR

THE FIRE

Ritchie set off down the road to one of his final calls, it had been a busy old day but a very pleasant one, he just loved the characters he met along the way and many of the older recipients of his mail became very dear to him over the years. One such recipient of his mail and parcels was his dear old friend Charlie Dapple he had delivered his mail for years. Making his way under the railway bridge a long freight train rumbled above his head drowning out the sound of one of his favourite tracks on the radio cutting off his tone death version of Cry Little Sister, driving past the rusty old keep out sign stuck in the middle of the field, Ritchie recalled how Charlie Dapple once owned all the land he was passing through, over the years he had become quite well–known as the local village eccentric. Ritchie had a great affinity for the old man, he knew him very well as his mother use to buy Ritchie cakes from Dapple's bakery in the village when he was a kid, Charlie use to own it with his wife Rosetta, son Robin and his daughter in law Rosa, even his 17 year old granddaughter Rose would help out in the village bakery, well she did, until the terrible fire. The fire was a tragedy, still to this day people in the village refer to it as "That terrible day," no one ever thought such an event could ever happen three of the most liked people in the village had died in such a horrible, cruel way. They were all such talented, warm hearted, generous people and an innocent beautiful teenager, just wiped out, it devastated a whole community for many years and the memory of the event still haunts them till this very day. The local firemen raised funds at the local church hall for a memorial plaque which was placed at the base of the village fountain, with the poignant words, "IN MEMORY OF ROSE DAPPLE 1993-2010".

The fountain was now used as a wishing well by tourists and visitors as they passed through the small village, the coins were collected over some period of time and used for the local riding charity, it was amazing how generous the tourists were, much had been raised over the years and the money was always spent wisely and used for a very good cause. Mrs Bulmer commissioned a sculptural piece to be made by a world renowned English artist of a life size bronze and sun bleached driftwood sculpture called, "Wunderkind", depicting a young girl upon a small pony which now stood on the village green. The fire apparently had been started by an electrical fault in the wiring, Mr Dapple, had been in the hospital at the time of the event, recovering after a nasty fall, breaking his pelvis in the process, he had only been there for a day or so. The whole family had a very busy day in the bakery it was hard tiring work at times and on that particular day they had all decided to retire early. The fire investigators had said the fire had broken out down stairs in the storage area, some wires had been chewed away by rats exposing the bare wiring, shorting out the electricity, creating a spark in the process and had ignited, setting alight to a pile of tinder dry wood chippings, created by the rodents as they chewed away part of the skirting boards to gain entry.

The investigators believed the flames had reached the open wood and dexion shelving which was used to store the large glass jars of casting sugar and corn flour; sadly the wooden slats of the top shelves collapsed, resulting in the glass containers shattering as they hit with great force upon the concrete floor, possibly causing a dust cloud of sugar and flour which would have exploded like a small incendiary bomb.

The cause of their deaths was toxic smoke inhalation; none of them would have realized what was happening to them as the smoke would have made them unconscious and taken their lives long before the fire had even reached them. Chief fire officer Ginger McKendrick and the local fire brigade had been attending a barn fire in another village, the fire station was just a few miles away, if they had not been on another call out they possibly would have arrived earlier and probably had put out the flames long before it even reached the upstairs bedrooms, sadly the blues and twos arrived too late to answer the fateful call. When they eventually arrived the smoke had already claimed its four victims, it appeared that the fire must have spread very quickly up the stairwell the fierce heat from the flames and the acrid black smoke would have made it inescapable for any one of them as the stairwell would have been there only means of escape making it impossible for all of them to escape the inferno.

The chief fire officer Ginger McKendrick was the very first on the scene, when he discovered their lifeless bodies they all appeared untouched by the flames, everything seemed normal as if they were all just sleeping, finding Roses parents Robin and Rosa cuddled up together in their bedroom, Mrs Dapple was discovered sitting upright in her bed holding a photo of her wedding day, while her granddaughter Rose was found in her bedroom at the far end of the long the corridor, tightly holding onto a miniature Rocking horse which once belonged to her grandmother. Ginger recalled a story Rosa her mother once told him about it, she said that each night before Rose fell to sleep as old as she was she would hold the Rocking horse between her hands and always say a little prayer, above a small vase holding a single white daisy was a hand, carved plaque which Charlie her grandfather hand carved especially for Rose which read A Prayer for my English Rose and underneath-it these words "As I lay me down to sleep I pray the Lord my soul to keep and if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take, Amen". Ginger read the prophetic words and looked down at Rose with compassion in his glistening eyes as if she was his very own daughter, stroking her brow softly he said, "God bless you Rose, your with the angels now", wiping away the tears from his blackened face, he gently picked up Roses limp body, carrying her away from the smoke damaged bedroom. Holding the beautiful teenager gently, Ginger walked steadily down the blackened charred staircase as he made his way out of the burned out shell of a building which was once a family home.

Stepping outside, he was hit by the chill night air, as it purified the fire chiefs smoke filled lungs, the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles cast a sorrowful dark shadow upon the red brick walls as the unsung hero carried the lifeless body of the young teenage girl held against his yellow fluorescent jacket illuminated by the bright street lights high above the mournful scene. Turning a tight corner, Ginger fought with his conscience, his guilt of not saving the seventeen year old girl and her beloved family etched upon his grieving face as he gazed down at the sparkling diamond engagement ring upon her finger, he choked up as, he realised how cruel her fate had been. Curious crowds of onlookers became quiet bowing their heads' in respect of the baker's daughter as the fireman took long open strides towards the blinding blue lights of the waiting ambulance outside.

Slowly the fire chief lowered her lifeless body out of his strong arms, laying her gently onto the stretcher waiting outside the ambulance, he looked into the face of innocence, her blue lips, betraying her fate releasing her tight death grip on a miniature Rocking horse; he removed it and placed it deep inside his jacket pocket. Looking forlorn at her pale white angelic face, he caressed it and stroked her thick black raven hair, parting it with his fingertips he kissed her softly on the forehead "God bless you my little angel".

Lifting his head up he turned to the ambulance crew with tears in his eyes and said, "This is going to break the old man's heart, no one deserves this, especially him and what about her fiancée Giles, life can be so cruel". The ambulance crew rubbed the fireman's broad back to comfort him and acknowledged his pain and said, "Yes we know, she's in God's hands now chap", as they slowly moved the stretcher up onto the ambulance and covered her face with a white cotton sheet.

Wiping the tears from his eyes Ginger McKendrick stepped away from the vehicle and gazed up into the starry, moonlit sky, taking a deep breath of the cold night air, he stood up straight, composing himself once again and containing his emotions he took charge of the situation as he began to shout out orders to his fire crew, redirecting his solemn thoughts. Indeed McKendrick was a man of passion, yet he was also a professional fire fighter and leader of men as long as his fire crew needed his guidance and assistance he was there for them, supporting his dedicated crew until the job was done. He had a very strong character and at times like these it would shine through, no matter how unsavoury the call out was, he was always in command, the welfare of his fire crew was paramount and they always came first, he was trained to be in control at all times, emotions were acceptable but they should never endanger the wellbeing of others.

Once Rosetta's' body was recovered it was transported to the local hospital with her son Robin and her daughter in law Rosa where Rose had already been taken, sadly the very place Mr Dapple had been recovering for the past few days, he was fast asleep, unaware of the night's tragic events. Knowing Charlie was also at the local hospital was quite unnerving for Ginger, many of the fire crew involved on the call out had been very good friends with Robin and Rosa for many years, a few of the crews' children had also attended the same local village school as Rose Dapple they had known her well having all grown up in the village together. It was going to be very tough for Ginger to break the terrible news to Charlie Dapple, the uttering of his words would have a profound effect upon his life and his crew forever, becoming engraved deeply in their memory from that day on, they would never forget the fateful night Charlie Dapples beloved family perished in such tragic circumstances. The next day at about noon, Ginger arrived at the hospital and entered in the recovery ward supported by two doctors and a nurse where Charlie was recovering from his injuries after the fall he had taken on the bakery steps. Ginger sat down on the edge of the bed looking at the frail old man lying on the bed; oblivious to the events of the night before, taking in a very deep breath he reached deep down inside himself and eventually found the courage to speak. Resting his shovel like hands on Charlie's narrow shoulders he looked into his sensitive deep blue eyes, holding the weak old man firmly the fire chief opened his mouth to speak, choking up the tragic words, he hugged the old man tightly in his strong arms, cradling him like a baby. The room went quiet, Charlie screamed like a new born child as the devastating news hit him like a bullet to the brain, triggering a chain reaction of unbearable mental pain searing through his whole body. Holding his chest in denial he tried to stop his heart from being ripped out by the unbearable fateful words. Bringing up his knees into a foetal like position, the traumatised, shell shocked old man began convulsing as his brain went into noradrenaline overload as he lay contorting and fitting in uncontrollable emotional agony. The doctor rushed over to Charlie, pulled out a syringe and administered a sedative, his body relaxed as the drug kicked in like a chemical coma, pulling the fuse just in time, turning off his mental torment; they had pulled him back from the brink just in time. Slipping his hands, into his pocket the fire chief placed the picture and the miniature rocking horse on the bedside table next to Charlie's hospital bed, he watched on with his head in his shaking hands, trying to hold back the tears as he tried desperately to be strong for his old friend and wondered if Charlie could ever mentally recover from the living nightmare he was now engulfed in.

Giles sat on the floor watching a live archived version of a Marc Bolan concert on Youtube, he was disturbed by a gentle knocking at the door, stepping in silently into the room was his parents with very serious looks on their faces. Sitting down either side of him on his black leather bean bag they both put an arm around him and hugged him tightly they looked down at him with compassion in their eyes. Giles had an odd feeling come over him as he realised something was not quite right with his parents presence in the room as he prepared himself with a gut wrenching feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. Breaking the heavy tension in the room he quietly said, "Tell me dad, something bad has happened hasn't it". His father often held on tenaciously to his emotions as he had often been the bearer of bad news during his time in the services having dealt with many situations like this during his time in the army, yet this time it was different after all Giles was his own flesh and blood, holding back his emotions he composed himself and said "Prepare yourself son, its' bad news, it's Rose, she is no longer with us son, she has sadly passed away, I am so sorry", squeezing him tightly in his strong arms, his father stroked his curly hair. Rubbing Giles' back gently his mother looked across to his father and nodded her head, getting up to his feet John walked towards the bedroom door and turned round and said, "I'm so sorry Giles", he closed the bedroom door quietly behind him feeling his sons inner pain, the old soldier surrendered to his pent up emotions losing his strong demeanour, found a dark secluded place in the corner and cried.

Giles looked down at the floor with his head in his hands looking up to his mother forlornly with grief stricken eyes, trying to desperately come to terms with the tragic news, feeling totally empty inside as his emotions caught up with him "Oh Mum", he cried out, burying his head deep into her comforting arms. Pouring out his heart felt emotions he realised all the dreams Rose once had of a fairy tale wedding was now over, sadly true loves kiss would not bring her back, all his sweet memories now replaced by much darker thoughts, the fairy tale had become a nightmare as Giles found himself in the darkest place he had ever been, a place so dark and grim it was indescribable.

Walking over towards his bedside cabinet Giles picked up the diminutive book, "Marc Bolan Died To Young" by Mark Stockdale, he removed the dried out daisy book mark he had placed there between the pages, looking over towards his mother he said,

"Do you think Rose will meet him mum" standing by the bedroom door she looked at Giles and smiled, "Maybe my son, maybe ", leaving her son a little space to come to terms with his own grief she closed the door slowly behind her, Giles stood staring out at the stars through the attic window. Holding the dried out daisy bookmark, he twiddled it between his fingers, walking over to his cd player he hit the play button, slumping back into his large leather bean bag he put the flower to his lips, kissed it sweetly and listened to his' favourite song Cosmic Dancer. Raising the daisy to the heavens Giles said with a tear in his eye, "I love you Rose Dapple until the day I die; I will always keep a little mark in my heart just for you". Comforting himself with thoughts of his fiancée and what may have been, Giles listened to the music, swallowed up by his own self-pity fell into a dark bottomless pit of despair, drowning in an ocean of sorrow he closed his eyes holding the daisy to his chest he cried himself to sleep.

When the news reached Mrs Bulmer, she went into a state of shock and locked herself away in the trophy room with a bottle of gin she kept hidden away in a desk drawer, throwing herself into her seat she pulled out a whiskey glass from the cupboard drawer, filling it up to the brim she gulped it back in a very un lady like fashion as she tried to take in the awful news she had just received from her last visitor Mary Meakin.

Looking out onto the paddock, Mrs Bulmer looked at her prize winning pony with compassion and wiped a tear away from the corner of her eye as a tiny Robin flew through the open window circled around the room and landed upon the ponies red winning rosette. Mrs Bulmer looked on as the Robin began to sing and twitter about before flying off out of the room into the distance, disappearing in to the thick foliage of a tall tree in the paddock eventually coming to rest upon a small branch just above Destinys' head.

The dapple grey pony laid in the dark shadow of the tree as the bird sang out loudly above its' head, the pony seemed oblivious to everything around her.

Emptying the last drop from the bottle of gin, Mrs Bulmer knocked back the intoxicating liquid throwing the empty gin bottle across the room, smashing it into tiny pieces, slamming down the empty glass hard onto the walnut table, feeling paralytic and dizzy with rage.

Getting up out of the red leather wingback swivel chair she stumbled towards the oak door, fumbling about with the brass key, eventually managed to turn it in the lock she escaped from her solitary prison. Breaking away from her solitude she stumbled out of the office door falling down onto the gravel path and crawled across the car park, pulling herself up on the bumper of her Range Rover.

Staggering across the quiet of the stable yard she fell over the white railed fence in a stupor, disturbing the resting ponies as she entered the paddock area, the inebriated, despondent Mrs Bulmer made her way towards the resting pony, feeling overwhelmed and distraught as she carried the weight of her devastated world upon her shoulders, she fell onto her knees and crawled across the dew covered grass

Throwing her arms around Destiny's neck, she stared into the ponies eyes, her empty gaze stared back like a lost soul in search of something that was out of reach and no longer there, as if she already knew Rose had gone forever, her eyes now as dead as a sharks, lost deep in the depths of an ocean of despair. Mrs Bulmer held on tightly to the pony as Destiny breathed in deep and heavy, her deep breaths comforting Mrs Bulmer as her body moved gently up and down with the motion of each deep breath. Feeling the gut wrenching pain of loss unlike anything she had ever known, even her bullying father at his worst could not have made her feel the hurt she was feeling.

As a cloak of inky blackness began to surround her thoughts, she looked up into the heavens above, searching deep inside herself for an answer to her pain, she watched as a shooting star cut a pathway across the cloudless night sky, knowing God was in the room Mrs Bulmer surrendered herself, finding the child lost so deep inside her, releasing all the years of pent up emotions, giving up herself completely to a higher power, she cried out into the silence of the night. Welcoming the new dawn the sun broke through the heavy morning mist, Mrs Bulmer was awoken by the clear bright sound of the dawn chorus, standing up slowly from her slumber she stretched her body, wondering if everything had been a bad dream, her stomach felt empty, but she wasn't hungry, inside it felt as if something was missing, she had an ache that would not go away, her head was dizzy, but it was not the gin, she was at a loss to explain her feelings it seemed she was still effected in some way by the night before. Making her way back to her office she felt as shattered as the broken gin bottle laying upon the floor, bringing her back to reality, she slummed into her chair put her head in her hands and cried. That night would never be forgotten, it would become part of the historic folklore of the small village, the haunting story retold over many years ,much like the awful tale of the young boy in Dead mans' Lake.

The village had never lost so many loved people before, it had happened in such a sad and tragic way, who would of thought that a small rodent could cause such a tragedy, sadly it did, causing the deaths of a whole family and a young teenage girl called Rose Dapple, they say the good die young, in this case it was true and the likes of her would never be seen again in the small village in the heart of England ever again, indeed it was one of the coldest days of their lives.
CHAPTER FIVE

GOODBYE MY FRIENDS

When Charlie was released from hospital all the people in the village rallied around to support him, he was well liked and respected by everyone who had ever known him, their hearts were full of love and compassion for the now traumatised old man. Ritchie the village postman had a meeting with the village elders including the church council headed by Mrs Bulmer, they all decided that Charlie Dapple should stay at the Meakin family home as requested by their teenage son Giles, after all he would need as much support as he could possibly get, especially with the upcoming family funeral. Speaking with Charlie after the meeting Mrs Bulmer found him to be quite amicable with her request, she drove him in her Range Rover to collect a few personal effects and his clothes from the place he had worked all his life, the place which he once called his loving home. Looking across the back yard Charlie remembered the many precious days he had spent their with his beloved family as he stood there with a heavy heart in front of the burned out bakery, he realised all he once loved had gone forever. Making his way along the leaf covered path towards the greenhouse, Charlie remembered how Rosetta and Rose use to love kicking their way through the deep drifts of autumn leaves Charlie had raked up from the garden. Rose would have hours of fun diving about in the coloured leaves of autumns glory, covering herself from head to foot in the dry leaves, making leaf angels with her mother and father, having leaf fights with Giles Meakin, it was such a joy to watch.

Picking up an old broken bean stick from the edge of the garden path, Charlie began poking about in the old rusty oil drum, breathing in the sweet smell of the leaves and the burnt out wood, how much he once enjoyed that smell, every bonfire night the whole family and their friends had a firework party, they would congregate around the fire in the back garden, spoiling themselves with large cups of hot chocolate, tasty hotdogs, thick crusty pies and sausage rolls all freshly made from the Dapples bakery as they all huddled together to kept warm by the fires flickering flames. Now the sweet smells of autumn which once gave Charlie so much pleasure made him feel sick to the stomach, throwing the bean stick across the garden he headed towards the greenhouse feeling disturbed by his angry thoughts. Sliding back the light aluminium framed door he stepped inside and sat down on the old well-worn red leather swivel topped stool looking around at all the neglected plants lying on top of the untidy work bench. Picking up a large flower pot he brushes away the cobwebs covering the label of the Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow plant, which once seemed to hold magical powers to Charlie, everyday each separate bloom would bring a change of colour from violet to light blue to white, the flowers changed like magic, he wished his life could change that easily, now the pot of withering violas meant nothing to him, it seemed the fire had not only taken his family but also killed his passion for one thing he once loved so dearly.

Feeling an emptiness growing inside him like a pain which would not go away, he knew in his heart he could never return to this place, his life here in the village was now over nothing could ever replace all he had lost. His thoughts became darker, black as the ash blowing away aimlessly in the wind from the burned out shell of the building he once called home. The chill wind whistled through the shattered windows, blowing the ashes of his life across the garden, lost, wondering with no true direction much like his angry thoughts of the dreaded place appeared to be. Exploding like a time bomb, Charlie released his pent up rage, throwing the pot through the green house window Charlie screamed out to the heavens, "Why?" Holding his head in his hands he fell to his knees and cried. Mrs Bulmer stood back in shock as she watched on from afar, feeling his pain looked up to the stars in the sky, she kissed her crucifix saying a silent prayer, asking her God to help Charlie find his way back out of the darkness, to ease his suffering and pain. Making her way across the garden towards the greenhouse, she noticed Charlie seemed transfixed as he followed a pure white downy feather blowing around the orchard coming to rest inside a small fairy ring of toad stalls in the orchard at the end of the garden, picking it up off the ground he stared at it twiddling it around between his fingers and placed it inside his waistcoat pocket.

Mrs Bulmer smiled, "Looks like some ones watching out for you Charlie, seems you got yourself a guardian angel". Smiling through his tears Charlie looked up in to her sincere blue eyes as his bottom lip began to quiver, "You think I need a guardian angel ?, I had one, her name was Rosetta, we were married for over 60 years, now she's gone, she's gone", hugging him tightly Mrs Bulmer comforted him holding him until his tears subsided. Walking around the garden for one last time Charlie apologised for his uncharacteristic behaviour, saying his final farewells he left his past behind him, they both made their way down the windswept garden path back to the warm comfort of the Range Rover parked outside on the frosty village road.

Charlie climbed up slowly into the front seat as Mrs Bulmer retrieved a tartan blanket from the back and placed it across his lap, making him comfortable then proceeded to load up his precious few belongings into the back of the vehicle. Starting the engine Mrs Bulmer turned up the blow heater to full as the fat tyres gripped into the icy road as they set off on their way through the crisp cold winter night to the Meakins family home. Arriving sometime later Charlie was greeted by Mrs Meakin who showed him into a very warm spacious front room, offering him a seat closest to the log fire they all pampered him making him feel at home as Mrs Bulmer made a quiet exit through the kitchen knowing full well Charlie was in the most capable of hands. Showing Charlie up the wide staircase to his bedroom Mrs Meakin began to tidy away his clothes, Charlie sat on the edge of the bed, kissed the wedding photo of Rosetta then placed it on top of the bedside cabinet next to him, " Is it O.K. if I have a bath Mary", "Of course you can Charlie", opening the door to the huge on sweet bathroom Mary began to run him a bath, "Clean towels on the heater rail for you Charlie, give me a shout if you need a back scrub", Charlie laughed with a cheeky smile, "Don't think Rosetta would approve Mary but thanks for the offer" making her way out of the bathroom Mary stood by the open door, " if you need anything just ask", closing the bedroom door behind her allowing Charlie his own space to come to terms with his grief she made her way downstairs to the homely front room. Charlie climbed into the bath and tried to relax in the warm water, trying to ignore the inescapable thoughts milling around his head, knowing full well he could not avoid the inevitable days to come.

Charlie stared into the shaving mirror, wiped the shaving foam of his face and dressed, looking immaculate as usual he placed his gold fob watch in his waistcoat pocket, putting on a brave face he took a deep breath and made his way down the stairs entering the front room, hiding his inner pain smiling like the trooper he was, surprising everyone as he asked if he could have a cup of tea and speak with Giles on his own in the conservatory. Giles led Charlie out of the room, " take a seat", Charlie sat without saying a word, appearing to be in deep thought as the silence was broken by the sound of Mrs Meakin carrying a tea tray as she entered the conservatory, "Here we go Charlie, I have used real tea not teabags just how you like it, there's milk, sugar and honey if you want it", Charlie smiled and cheekily asked, "What no biscuits, ? ", smiling Mrs Meakin made off to the kitchen returning with a huge orange biscuit barrel in the shape of Winnie the pooh, plonking it down in the centre of the glass topped table, " Help your-self Charlie", Charlie grinned as he took the lid off the unusual shaped biscuit barrel, sniffing the sweet biscuity aroma, he fished out a cream biscuit and dunked it in the cup of tea Giles had poured out for him, relaxing back into the well cushioned wicker armchair he was sitting on Charlie slurped his tea, "Ahh, you pour a nice cuppa tea young man".

Giles sat with sadness written all over his face, trying to work out how Charlie could be smiling considering the whole reason he was there, Charlie noticed his expression and lent forward rubbing Giles on the shoulder, placing his hand in his waistcoat pocket Charlie pulled out a gold Georg Jensen horse broach and placed it in Giles hand, "I'm sure Rose would like you to have this young man", Giles eyes welled up as he held the broach to his heart, "Come on son, be strong for me, we got lots to sort out, I need you to be there for me lad, so come on, buck up, help this old man out, he needs you, O.K." Realising his selfishness Giles perked up and thanked Charlie for the precious gift he had given him then continued to chat for hours over the fine details of the upcoming funeral arrangements, leaving Charlie in a better state of mind and happy with their final decisions. The Dapples family funeral was to be a spectacle unlike anything the village had ever seen before, run like a military campaign as all the arrangements had been left by Charlie and Giles in the very capable hands of ex-army life guard officer to the Queen John Meakin. Everything was to be done by the numbers with an open budget of funds donated by so many people, money would be no object, and John Meakin would make sure Charlie's deceased family would have all the respect and dignity they all deserved. The handmade white coffin with brass plaques were made by the local blacksmith Keiron Jones, all the work was overseen personally by Charlie Dapple. Each of the hand crafted white coffins would be carried in white horse drawn glass carriages, personalised with their names, made completely from white daisies.

Charlie's wife Rosetta would be driven to the local cemetery by Charlie himself with Ritchie the postman, drawn by Honey, the carriage surrounded by the local fire crews, Giles Meakin and his mother would take Rose, drawn by Destiny wearing her prize winning red rosette on her martingale, the children from Mrs Bulmer's riding school forming a guard of honour. Mrs Bulmer and Keiron Jones the blacksmith would take Rosa and Robin drawn by Tsun Tzu the strongest pulling horse at the stable, accompanied by the children from the Lady Diana School. The leather tack had been hand made by John Meakin it was all fitted with brass buckles. All the horses would wear black ostrich plume head pieces as a sign of respect. A lone piper, Chief Fire Officer Ginger McKendrick would lead the funeral cortege followed by three retired Horse Guards led at the front by no other than John Meakin holding aloft a Union Jack and three more Horse Guards would ride at the rear of the procession, all dressed in full regalia with swords drawn resting upon their shoulders, either side of the funeral cortege boy scouts and girl guides from all the local villages would form a side guard all dressed in full uniform. On the day of the funeral all the villagers attending assembled at Mrs Bulmer's large country home in preparation of the mournful day ahead, leaving at timed intervals the mourners left in a very orderly fashion to Mrs Bulmer's riding school. Driving along slowly along the icy country lanes lined by snow covered trees and foliage; it seemed like Mother Nature had painted a canvas creating a beautiful Dickensian scene as a final farewell to the four innocent lives which had been taken so tragically in the fire. John Meakin approached his guard of honour in military fashion and offered them a shot of Brandy, making a toast to Sefton and all their fallen comrades from 1982 , they mounted their horses and took their positions ahead of the funeral cortege and led Charlie Dapple's family to their final resting place. In the distance the silence was broken by the sound of the lone piper approaching the village from Mrs Bulmer's stable yard, onlookers took off their hats and bowed their heads down in respect as Destiny held her head high, shook her head whinnying out loudly as she passed the burned out bakery and stopped mid stride, halting for a second or two her eyes widened as if she had felt some kind of presence there.

Giles followed the pony's gaze catching what appeared to be the image of a young girl standing behind the broken window of the bakery dressed in a white summer dress, putting it down to a reflection, Giles ignored it "walk on Destiny, walk on", Destiny whinnied and picked up a slow pace, the cortege continued to make their way to the snow covered village church.

Ginger McKendrick stood silently outside the entrance to the church as the mounted life guards formed a guard of honour along the church steps; Destiny bowed her head respectfully as Rose's coffin was removed from the glass carriage. Charlie was helped down from his seat by the local vicar and led up the church steps, saluted by the Queens own cavalry as he walked behind the coffins of his beloved family, as they were carried with great dignity by the local fire crew into the white floral decorated church, followed by Giles Meakin, his mother and the remainder of Charlie Dapples immediate family. John Meakin lowered the flag to the last call as the coffins moved under the shadow of the Union Jack, receiving the well-deserved respect from the country they were all born in. Accompanied by the sound of the musical score by Vaughn Williams, "Eventide" Charlie Dapple stepped forward; turning to the congregation he stood with great dignity, lowered his head and read out these words:

"I once had a family full of many special people, I loved them all more than words can say, now all I have left is the precious memories they gave me, their memory will live forever in my heart. I am not a religious person yet I am very spiritual and believe one day when my time has come we will all be reunited once more, so if you please could you join me and sing Rosetta's favourite hymn Abide with me". The service was uplifting, carrying a very positive message and lasted almost an hour.

Charlie chose the first poignant song, The Long and Winding Road by The Beatles, Giles chose, Diamonds by Rihanna reminding him of one of the best days of Rose Dapples young life, Mrs Bulmer chose, A Mothers Prayer by Jackie Evancho and Susan Boyle for the lost daughter Rose had become, the children's choir from the Lady Diana School would sing three hymns, Morning Has Broken, All Things Bright and Beautiful and Kum Ba Ya.

The service was closed by the final Eulogy dedicated to Rose Dapple and read by Mrs Bulmer,

"Rose Dapple was a living testament to all that I personally believe in, she showed me that she had great courage, strength and the determination to overcome all the trials that life could possibly throw at her. Rose was not only a very talented, beautiful young lady she was one of the most sincere, giving, human beings, I could ever have wished to of met, she will be greatly missed by all of us. She was a wonderful person to be around and she never left a room without leaving everyone present with a smile on their face, she was a dedicated dressage rider and her gift to the equestrian world was immeasurable, I truly believe the like of her will never be seen again. Her loss has left an indelible mark on all of us present here today, I truly believe the day Rose Dapple was born God was in the room, she was a gift to all of us, she brought light into our world and her light was so bright it was almost blinding. I would like to say from the bottom of my heart on behalf of everyone here present today these final few words, your life touched us all and your memory will live deep within our hearts and thoughts forever, God bless you Rose Dapple".

As the last echoes of her words faded the sound of Adagio for strings by Samuel Barber carried across the cemetery, touching the nerves of all attending as they followed the coffins in the frozen glass carriages across the virgin snow. Charlie kissed a single white daisy and placed one on each of the white coffins as the fire crew carried them to their final resting place, John Meakin lowered his sword as the retired Royal Horse Guards fired a six gun salute in to the snow filled sky; Destiny whinnied out loudly to the heavens, bowed her head, sensing in her heart Rose had gone forever.

After the funeral Charlie lived with Meakins for some considerable time, once he received the insurance money from the fire he donated all the money to Mrs Bulmer's riding school as he thought it was dirty money he wanted to use it for a good cause. Moving out of the Meakins, Charlie bought himself a cottage just outside the village he asked to be left alone so he could come to terms with his great loss. As time went by Charlie became almost reclusive in his ways never going out or meeting people, he kept himself to himself as he became more and more withdrawn from all those who had known him best, he locked himself away from the outside world. Ritchie the postman kept an eye out for his old friend Charlie Dapple, though he often offered to help him out stubborn old Charlie always sent him away with a flea in his ear. The Meakin family also kept contact with him right up to the day they all moved away from the village to Australia, hoping to build a new life for themselves. John and Mary opened up a Saddlery and Horse Tack shop, they became very successful supplying their leather goods to the Riding schools in many of the outback territories, while their son Giles became the manager of an Australian T Rex Tribute band called Cosmic Dancer and the money he made to start a small charity for disabled young aboriginal riders.

In England Mrs Bulmer found her strength in doing what she does best, losing herself in her work, concentrating on the needs of others as usual spending all her time schooling the new ponies and teaching the new riders, redirecting all her negative energy back into her riding school, she built up another wall around her emotions becoming more detached, distancing herself from her true feelings. Her outward going positive persona towards others was a disguise she wore as she once again hid her true feelings, giving up her own needs and wants to satisfy the needs of the less fortunate, yes at heart she was a very lonely woman but her strength in the eyes of adversity had always made her the resilient woman she was, life would not break her as she learned again to take each day in her stride and looked ahead with a positive attitude with great hopes for the future.

Mrs Bulmer had great concerns over Destinys' behaviour, appearing totally indifferent to everyone, she had changed dramatically ever since the day of Rose Dapples tragic death, the dapple grey mare would just lay on the dewy grass staring blankly into the sky, going off her food a little and not wanting to eat as much she was in danger of wasting away to nothing.

Eventually Mrs Dapple employed a new stable girl to look after her, whenever she entered Destinys' stable and called her for her feed, the brooding pony realised that it wasn't Rose, she just breathed in deeply, exhaled heavily out of her nostrils and stared at the wall. The young stable girl tried everything she could to encourage her to stand up onto her feet, nothing she could do or try seemed to work, every time she would raise her up onto her knees her legs appeared heavy and gave way as she just slumped back onto the stable floor. Destiny just looked around as if searching for someone or something that wasn't there, she appeared confused, unsure of herself, her gaze became distant as she lay slumped down in the corner of her stable and just stared at the blank wall. Mrs Bulmer eventually decided to call out the vet, he gave her a good check over and ruled out any viruses, decease or colic then gave the pony a few injections before leaving saying he would call back later to check on her condition to see if she was doing O.K.

As time went on she began to refuse to eat or drink at all, it appeared the poor little pony had become melancholy and was pining for Rose, as time went by Giles came along to help while on a visit from Australia, for a short time she appeared to be getting better, when Giles left to go back home, the poor pony was released back into the open fields with all the other ponies hoping they would keep her company, sadly Destiny just hid in a shaded corner of the field staying away from them all. Tossing and turning in her bed Mrs Bulmer had a very sleepless night, she just couldn't get the poor pony out of her head as she had a strange feeling something was not quite right, she got up just before sunrise to check on Destiny.

Putting on a light body warmer, jeans and a pair of riding boots she headed out down the gravel path towards the paddock, climbing over the three bar gate she stepped down onto the dew covered grass, holding a head collar and lead rope in her hand, making her way through the early morning mist she noticed in the distance the silhouette of Destiny.

Moving closer Mrs Bulmer became more and more concerned, the pony appeared lifeless in the corner of the field as she lay under the cover of a tall tree, not moving at all "Destiny", Mrs Bulmer called out, "Destiny ", walking slowly towards her a cold chill ran down her spine, sensing something was not quite right, she quickened her pace. Throwing down the lead rope and head collar upon the damp ground she quickened her pace and ran towards the ailing pony with great urgency and collapsed heavily onto the wet grass beside her, Mrs Bulmer slid her hands under the ponies head and rested it upon her lap, stroking her much like she did on the very first day she had found her emaciated body in the derelict barn. The pony's' breathing was very much laboured and shallow; her eyes had a distant traumatised look about them like a shell shocked battle victim staring into a black void. Whispering her name into her ear, a small spark of recognition glinted momentarily in her eyes as the pony tried to lift up her head in response to her gentle voice, her brown soulful eyes looked up painfully into hers.

Mrs Bulmer cradled her lovingly in her arms, her heart filled with compassion, she blessed the day she had first found her, this pony was a testament to love, she knew she had been loved by so many; Destiny had given trust and unconditional love back to all those who had ever come to know her, unlike any other pony Mrs Bulmer had ever known. Sadly her love and attachment for Rose had become so strong it had become her very undoing, the loss of Rose had broken the poor ponies heart, she could no longer exist in a world without Rose by her side, there was nothing Mrs Bulmer could do to help her, there was no coming back this time; she had given up the fight, the very will to live; soon her suffering would all be over. Holding on tightly to her beautiful dapple grey pony her sense of sadness became overwhelming, like a magnetic force she just couldn't get way from, drawing her emotions up from deep within, like a volcano ready to blow as the realisation hit home like a wrecking ball to her heart, she screamed out to the heavens, "Why ?". Radiant rays of sunlight blinked through the trees, accompanied by the sound of birdsong in the hedgerows welcoming the new dawn, perched high on a tree top above the slow running stream, a solitary song thrush sang out clearly and brightly as it joined in the dawn chorus. Looking down with tears in her eyes, Mrs Bulmer whispered in Destinys ear, "Listen my love, it sings just for you,", staring back through the windows of her eyes, taking in one final breath, Destiny gasped out loudly and exhaled with a heavy sigh, kissing her sweetly, she watched the sun rise in her beloved dapples grey ponies eyes for one last time as the bright light of life slowly faded away forever. Looking up through her tears she watched as the song thrush took to flight across the open field, full of life and vigour disappearing into the sunlit haze. Looking across the field towards the paddock, Mrs Bulmer recalled one glorious summers day, when a once frail rescued pony and a somewhat awkward disabled young girl, met for the very first time finding solace and comfort in one another, from that day on they would never be the same again. If it was ever truly possible to find a soul mate, then Rose Dapple had found hers, at times it appeared that she had a psychic connection with Destiny, finding a trust in one another above and beyond anything she had ever known. Mrs Bulmer always said she never had any favourites at the riding school, it was not acceptable to her, she treated everyone the same way, but the fact was that the pair of them had been so adorable together that over time they had broken down her solid wall of detachment and won her heart.

Eventually she saw Rose as the daughter she could never have, the pair of them had given her so much joy over the years she could never forget either of them, with so many happy memories, she would not allow herself to dwell on the past or the way they had both so tragically died, no she would rather be happy and rejoice in the way they had both lived, remembering how endearing they both were, the way they had touched the hearts of so many people.

It was a miracle that Mrs Bulmer had ever known them at all, she felt blessed to have schooled them both, watching them grow in confidence made her proud of all their successes and achievements, she thanked God for the happy times they had all spent together, admittedly her life would never be the same again without them, they had left an indelible mark in her heart which would never go away. Mrs Bulmer knew how precious life is, how each moment and the simple things some take for granted should always be seen as a blessing, over the years she had witnessed many times how people can find hope in the depths of despair, climbing out of the darkness to find themselves in a better place, one thing she had found out to be true is that if you truly "BELIEVE" in yourself the chances are that others would too. They say the good die young and in Destiny and Rose's case it was true, it seemed their young lives had been snuffed out like a candle, but for one moment in time, their light burned so brightly it was almost blinding, that was the memory Mrs Bulmer would always carry in her heart forever, the day they had both risen up against all the odds becoming magnificent and for one moment in time, shone like a diamond in the eyes of the equestrian world.
CHAPTER SIX

CHARLIE THE BROKEN MAN

Time had moved on in a blur, had it really been so long, a year had passed; Charlie Dapple thought to himself as he placed a hot mug of tea on top of the kitchen table and sat down into his comfy leather chair. Putting the mug to his lips he blows across the rim, cooling the hot tea before taking a tiny sip, savouring the moment as the sweet flavour hits his taste buds. Lost in thought he begins contemplating the day ahead, as he rocked back and forth upon the stone floor, making a gentle squeaking sound as the supple leather of his shoes gave way to the pressure upon his foot. His thoughts ran deep as it took him back down memory lane, he was lost in a maze he could never escape from, he was now a prisoner in the labyrinth he had found himself in, at times it seemed like he was lost in a parallel universe or some other dimension, a safe place his mind had created to release him from the pain of his true reality, it was not of his choosing, in no way shape or form was he to blame. Life has a way of flipping the status quo on its head, it can happen to any one of us at any time, like an assailant waiting in the dark shadows, fate lurks unseen in every nook and cranny and more often than not preys on the innocent, including the most vulnerable people. Old Charlie was now disenchanted with his life, he now had to deal with a new cruel reality, he had to walk along a path he had not chosen for himself, life was so unpredictable much like an honest game of roulette, who can really tell when their numbers would come up ' ? In America they have a saying, "Life can turn on a dime", well it certainly did for old Charlie, one moment he had a loving wife, a beautiful daughter, married to a wonderful man and last but not least the perfect grandchild, they all lived above the family business, they once called their home. How do you start again?, how strong does a person have to be, to pick one's self up to begin again, when a whole lifetime has been extinguished, when you find yourself walking into the empty wilderness of life, totally on your own , everything you once knew has now gone forever. Now left in a void punishing yourself with one unanswerable question, why?, they say bad things happen to good people, in Charlie's case it was certainly true, he was as honest as the day is long he would rather help than hinder anyone, yet ill fate had dealt him the heaviest of blows, making what was once a family home into a black empty shell. Getting up slowly from his rocking chair old Charlie lent on the table top and reached out his hand picking up his mug of tea as he gulped it down, he grimaced as the twang of cold liquid hit the back of his throat. Realising the lost time, he wonders off over to the kitchen sink, running the cold tap for a while he splashes his face with ice cold water, refreshing his senses as his mind returns to what he had planned to do for the day. Drying his face he sees what appears to be his granddaughter Rose playing in the garden, "hmm, where's she gone", scratching his temple Charlie turns around and opens the back door he searches the garden for his granddaughter.

Looking out towards the group of apple trees he sees something moving in the shadows, calling out her name again he walks towards the orchard, catching a flash of white material out of the corner of his eye, he stops mid stride and calls out again, "Rose", he listens for a reply, on a fruitless mission he searches around the garden in vain. Hearing a childish giggle he makes his way along the garden path following the fading sound, desperately calling out one last time "Rose'", still no reply, opening the door to his garden shed, he steps inside pauses a second, then scans the garden for his granddaughter one final time he enters the shed leaving the door open behind him
CHAPTER SEVEN

THE FLIGHT OF PASSION

Outside the garden shed the sound of tapping broke the silence as dry leaves formed small eddies on the dusty gravel path, all of a sudden a strong gust of wind picked up creating a vortex, lifting them high in to the air, the howling dust devil danced across the garden pulsing to the rhythm of the gentle breeze. Inside the shed Charlie turned off his thoughts like a switch concentrating on the solid piece of wood held firmly in the vice, he knew exactly what he was making, he had meant to make it for years, he had seen it so often in his mind's eye, now all he had envisioned was about to be born from the virgin wood. The lines and curves he had already imagined would soon take shape formed by the hands of a master craftsman, his skill was second to none, he was ready to begin his final project and time was not his friend. Roses' birthday was fast approaching, he had only one last chance to put his world to rights fulfilling the long overdue promise he had made so many years ago. Picking up a Japanese hand saw, he placed the cutting edge against the wood, as the sharp teeth of the cold steel blade gripped, he began to make his first precise cut into the sweet smelling wood, taking in a deep breath as the fibrous material released its' scented aroma into the air he smiled, his work had now begun. Charlie liked to use this particular saw, it felt nice to hold with a comfortable grip, it cut on the pull rather than push, which he believed gave him more control over the blades true direction. Like a surgeon understood anatomy and the workings of the human body, Charlie knew wood like the back of his hand, he had great respect for the versatile material, and after all it was here on this planet long before we were, and dare say would still be around long after we're gone. Charlie smiled as he began shaping the gift he had always promised his granddaughter Rose, he had dismissed the idea for so many years, it seemed he was just so busy all the time, he had considered making it on so many occasions but sadly never actually got around to it.

His new perspective on life and death had driven him to begin his project with sheer determination, he would not stop until his promise was made good and his work was done. Now the large shed had become his place of creation, he was a master craftsmen of wood, his gift was passed down from his father, Charlie could make anything from wood, though he could not will the objects he made to life like the Greek god Hephaestus did, he often wished he had the powers to do so. In his mind it was like bringing a new life into the world, the things he made had never existed until he decided to make them, each object was unique, one of a kind, all spawned from his creative soul. Charlie had found solace and peace of mind in any activity which involved the making of something, it was ingrained in him, part of his DNA, and for some reason unknown to Charlie he had an impulsion to build things even from a child, a natural gift which he used to his best ability.

It was his creative side which endeared Rosetta to Charlie in the first place, it all began on a hot summer's day, you know the kind, when time seems never ending the skies were blue and everything seemed perfect, all was well with the world, child hood days when all you really ever needed in life was the air that you breathed and your own imagination. Charlie and Rosetta had met at school they became very close friends, Rosetta was a bit of a tomboy in her younger days, she loved climbing trees, the taller the better, she even did a bit of scrumping on occasion with Charlie, making it away with a bounty of apples, pears and plums to her it was great fun. Rosetta always blamed her mother for her scrumping habit, often when times were hard she would actually go out on night time raids for apples to make her father apple pies and the like, in those days it was a rite of passage, something that some kids in the village went through especially the poorer kids like Rosetta, yes it was a little naughty but it was far from grand theft auto and it was better than letting the fruit rot upon the trees. When Rosetta and Charlie first met she introduced him to the art of scrumping, the very first time they went out they almost got caught, Charlie had the arse ripped out of his trousers by a neighbour's dog, yet his close encounter didn't deter him from doing it again, from that day on Charlie was hooked. Every weekend they both met up, Charlie would wait by the garden fence for Rosetta to arrive, nothing made the adrenalin rush and their hearts race as much as scrumping in the village once did. Now it had become a game they both played together, climbing over the wooden fence they sneaked into the overgrown garden crawling on their belly's' head deep in dry grass like snakes creeping upon its' prey, moving closer to the orchard they stood up and made a mad dash for the nearest tree, taking off their jumpers tied around their waists they filled them with apples running like bats out of hell back to his mothers' snug country kitchen. Yes, they now did their scrumping in Charlie's own back garden, but it was safer and far better than getting a ticking off from his father or getting a criminal record, he had already been let off once by the local village copper and the idea of being bitten once again by the Rottweiler's jaws of death up the road, ending up with another sore arse had put them both right off the idea. Eventually the local villagers began leaving windfalls outside their homes with a sign saying, "FREE APPLES", passers bye would help themselves, some of the townies would throw a few coins in the box as a kind of thank you, it was an attempt to kerb the scrumping outbreaks in the village, even though those days had long gone Charlie and Rose would never forget their naughty but nice outlaw days of scrumping.

To break up the boredom of the long school summer holidays, Charlie and Rosetta would take excursions to the local woods, picking wild rose hips from the dog rose bushes they collected as many as they could before putting them all in the jam jars they both carried around their necks attached to an old piece of rough string. Cutting off two long shafts of mother die with his pen knife Charlie tidied them up and removed the side shoots, offering one of the pea shooters he had just made to Rosetta. Neither of them believed in the old wives tale some of the locals told them about the hollow fibred plant they used as their weapon of choice, some truly thought picking it would actually kill your mother, if that was the case the whole village would be a ghost town by now, there would be no one left to tell the tale would there, anyway they both saw it as stuff of nonsense, if they did believe the tale it would have spoilt all their fun, so they totally ignored it. Some of the local kids in the village use to open up the rose hips they collected for peashooter ammo and tear out the cream white fibres inside using it as make shift itching powder, Charlie never did as just touching it brought him out in a rash, just the thought of it inside his clothes made him cringe as once there it never seemed to come off.

The fibres were so damn itchy and irritating, the rougher lads in the village use to threaten the younger kids with it for their pocket money, believe you me it was far easier to give up your weekly allowance than suffer the itchy consequences of being tortured by the local bullies, even Chinese burns or having your hair pulled out with the stripped end of meadow grass was more preferable than that evil stuff. Once they collected all the ammo they needed, the dynamic duo hid from each other in the long grass, firing hails of rose hip bullets at one another, crafty Rosetta poked two in at a time, when the two pronged stinging attack hit home, Charlie grimaced, yelping like a little puppy as the projectiles hit his bare thighs just beneath his karki coloured shorts, he dived for cover like his very life depended on it, cowering in the stiff lush green grass. Rosetta kept up the barrage until Charlie surrendered in defeat, his skinny legs looking red, bleeding and sore all covered in cuts from the razor edged grass he had skidded through as he went undercover from the onslaught from Rosetta's pea shooter attack. Totally exhausted Charlie stood up, raised his hands in the air surrendering as Rosetta began to chant and tease him, "Who won the war in 1944", clever Charlie shouted out sarcastically, "You plum, it was 1945 not 1944 you cabbage head", Rosetta felt a little silly, going red with embarrassment, she fell into a knackered heap, disappearing in the long grass to hide her blushes.

Charlie snapped off a long stem of meadow grass and stared up at the clear blue sky, pausing for thought chewing on the end of the sour tasting grass, he grinned to himself, laughing out loudly he chanted teasingly, "Who won the war in 1944", as he crept through the long grass towards her, lying next to Rosetta he began tickling inside her ear with the end of a long stem of grass. Charlie continued to tickle her ear, teasing her with the blade of grass until she couldn't bear it any longer, doubled up with laughter she screamed out in a giggling fit, "I surrender Charlie, I surrender, you win, Charlie you win". Lying in the heat of the midday sun they chatted about all kinds of silly nonsense, discussing all manner of things, who? The what? The where? The when? The why?, laughing at just about anything and everything they could think of without a care in the world; this time together if they did but know it was one brief moment they both would never forget for the rest of their lives, the innocent golden days of childhood, sadly, would soon be gone forever. Feeling refreshed they both got up, brushed off the grass seeds from their backs then made their way through the deep colourful patches of wild meadow flowers, stopping Charlie stooped down picking one single wild daisy and hid it behind his back, calling out across the meadow he shouted, "Come here Rosetta", wading through the wild flowers she stopped, chewing on the corner of her lip she crossed her arms, staring at Charlie with a puzzled look on her face. Charlie stepped forward and retrieved the white daisy, placing it behind her ear, saying sweetly, "For you my princess", removing the floral gift Rosetta looked at it smiled then shyly pecked him on the cheek, "Thank you Charlie, it's so beautiful", then twiddling it between her fingers placed it back behind her ear, reached out and took Charlie gently by the hand they both continued walking across the open field. Passing the rusty sign emerging out of the thick bramble bush, Charlie loaded up a Rose hip round from his jam jar and fired at the sign, hitting the centre of the first red letter of his target, "Dead Man's Lake", Rosetta shot off a couple of shots at the sign then continued on her way along the narrowing overgrown path towards, Dead Man's lake, making their way through the creepy old overgrown wood they came across a deadfall lying across a wide expanse of muddy bog covered in a thick green slime. Rosetta looked at Charlie with a smile on her face, holding her jam jar tightly against her hip placed the daisy inside and began to run; jumping like a long jumper in the Olympics, she sailed through the air to the other side.

Charlie to be honest was not much of an athlete, he was what they call these days a bit of a wimpy kid, he stepped very tentatively onto the deadfall with his nobly knees shaking like a jelly, half expecting the creature from the black lagoon to appear out of the murky depths at any moment and gobble him up, he stood frozen like a statue. Rosetta just got up off the ground and brushed herself down looking across to Charlie staring into space, transfixed like a deer in the headlights of a car, she smiled. "O.k. Charlie I'm coming", she said in a sympathetic voice. Walking across the fallen tree she reached out and grabbed his shaking hand leading him safely across the cavern of doom, well it was in Charlie's mind.

Making it across unscathed they both kicked their way through the long dry meadow grass until they came upon the Jurassic looking overhanging grove of trees covered in lush green moss, it seemed like a dinosaur could raise its ugly head up out of the dense foliage of ferns at any time as the further they walked into the dense undergrowth the eerier the atmosphere became. Charlie's imagination went into over drive as the wind began to pick up in the trees and the bows above his head began to creek and crack as a large black crow soared over head like a large terror dactyl from another time. Charlie knew that Dead Man's lake was supposed to be haunted he began to question himself even being there as the crow cawed out loudly above his head a cold shiver ran along his spine. Thinking about the tale of the young local boy, Charlie began to feel uneasy, he had been told the tale so many times he just couldn't stop himself from thinking about it. Unfortunately the young lad had died some years ago, apparently falling into the murky water and sadly couldn't get out again, once the boy was reported missing the police had searched the lake and found his lifeless body just inches below the water's surface. Apparently the boy was taking a short cut to meet his grandparents, as nightfall crept in they assumed he had lost his way in the darkness falling into the mud, unable to escape the strong suction of the sticky quagmire he was engulfed in, torrential rain increased the water level overnight making an escape impossible for the little boy, the poor bugger never had a dogs chance, Charlie thought he must have drowned terrified and alone, screaming out for his parents or anyone else for that matter to help him. The thought sent shivers down his spine, Charlie wondered if the child would have survived if it had not rained the night before, would he still be around to tale the tale, he would never know, strangely, some people said he still was, his cries for help were often heard in the middle of the night as his lost lonely spirit wondered around the lake searching for his way home crying for his mother in the darkness.

Still to this very day the event remains a mystery, nobody really knew the full facts of the terrible incident but it had left a very deep mental scar on all the local villagers who had known him, leaving, "Dead Mans' Lake", with a sinister , mysterious past. Why? people still went their only God knows but it always seemed to have its' own strange dark power of attraction, drawing the local people to the eerie place, especially the adventurous like the local Lara Croft, Rosetta and the unadventurous ones like the timid Charlie. The sound of frogs filled the air, as blue winged dragon flies sat and dried their wings on the shimmering water's edge, air bubbles popped as they rose up from the green witches brew created over many years of decaying plant life at the bottom of Dead Mans' lake. Rosetta dipped her hand, through the fluorescent oily film laying upon the water's surface, breaking the skin of green slime she cupped a large handful of frogspawn, the cold clear slime wrapped itself around her hand as the quivering jelly filled with frogs eggs began to slip through her fingers, "Quick Charlie give me the jam jar", lifting the jam jar off his shoulder he shook out the remaining rose hips and crouched down placing the large jam jar underneath Rosetta's gloop filled hands.

The slimy snotty looking lump slid down into the glass jar, Rosetta stared wide eyed in amazement at the new found treasure she had just recovered from the dark murky depths, holding the jar closely to her eye the curved shape of the glass stretched and contorted the shape of the creatures inside as she marvelled at the tadpoles swimming in a jerky fashion among the many black eggs floating inside the algae stained clear jelly. Charlie sat on a moss covered log and watched Rosetta lost in a little world of her own grinning like a Cheshire cat with her face stuck right up against the jar, Charlie laughed as her beady eye was magnified by the jam jar making it appear like a big gob stopper floating inside the glass jar of swimming tadpoles. Charlie picked up a long wood pigeon feather of the ground and twirled it around between his fingers, stroking the edge with his thumb he watched the filaments lock into place as he wondered at natures amazing technology, then stuck the grey and white feather into his thick black hair, he smiled from the corner of his mouth with a knowing grin. Leaning forward he picked up a small fallen branch, breaking off a straight long thick twig, he stared at it in deep thought , pulling out the pen knife his father gave him for his birthday he opened up the blade. Picking up the straight twig he ran the blade down the full length of it removing all the leaves, holding it firmly he began to sharpen one end like a pencil. Rosetta picked up her jar of slimy pets and made her way over to Charlie standing beside him, looking on with curiosity as he continued to form a point at the end of the narrowing stick. "What are you doing Charlie ?", smiling he placed his finger to his lips , "Shush, Rosetta, watch", Sticking the sharp end in the ground Charlie began to split the other end of the wood a couple of inches down the middle, " Rosetta can you have look around for an old fag packet please".

Rosetta reluctantly put down the frogspawn and went off in search of an old cigarette packet, searching around the bushes she came across an old den some local kids must have made it was covered in a rusty old piece of corrugated tin, lying upon the ground was an old stained mattress covered in bits of old crumpled up newspaper and the remnants of a torn up magazine. Entering the damp, smelly hidey hole Rosetta rummaged through the pile of rubbish strewn all over the dirty old mattress, eventually finding what she was looking for wedged between the broken glass fragments of a lemonade bottle. Creeping out slowly Rosetta held her breath, pinching her nose tightly trying to avoid the stale smell of urine as she made her way out of the stinking den of iniquity.

Walking back to Charlie she handed over the cigarette packet, taking it from her hand he removed the silver foil insert and placed it inside his tatty pocket tapping it with his hand, "That's for later". Rosetta gave him a quizzical look as Charlie picked up the cigarette packet and folded it along it's' length then cut it into a half heart shape with his pen knife scissors. With a big grin on his face he opened up the card revealing two heart shapes, sliding them into the slot he had made on the thick twig he pushed the card in firmly and folded it back. Standing up he scratched Rosetta's name etching three crosses on the heart shaped flight with his pen knife, balancing it on his fingertip he murmured to himself, "Needs a little weight," rummaging around the junk in his well filled pockets, Charlie pulled out an old wing nut and screwed it tightly to the tip, "Now let's see if it flies Rosetta", he placed the arrow in his mouth as he untied his shoe lace from his boot, giving the shoelace to Rosetta he removed the arrow from between his teeth, pulling out his penknife Charlie carved a small notch in the wooden shaft. Tying a small knot in his shoelace he wrapped it once around the notch he made in the arrow, wrapped the lace tightly around his hand, holding the arrow tightly he pulled his arm back and threw it into air watching as it took flight towards an old oak tree.

Rosetta was amazed at Charlie's ingenuity as she watched the arrow soar into the air like a javelin, enthusiastic Charlie ran off after it punching the air as he chased after his flight of passion. Finding the arrow buried in a clump of stingers Charlie retrieved it, making his way back to Rosetta, giving her his wood pigeon feather she placed it in her hair, crouching down beside her, Charlie took a handful of sticky mud and painted two lines upon both his cheeks with the tip of his fingers, tied the shoelace around his head, then holding the arrow aloft stood up proudly with his arms crossed then began to dance in a small circle. Laughing at his antics Rosetta dipped her finger in the gooey mud, dabbing a single spot of mud on the centre of her forehead, standing up like an Indian squaw with a feather stuck in her hair and a white daisy stuck behind her ear, she joined in the dance of madness, holding their palms to their mouths they both chanted out loudly, sounding like Native American Indians, losing themselves in the moment they began to dance in celebration as they went on the warpath going around in tight circles around their imaginary fire.

After a while Charlie got a stitch in his side, he sat down on a dried out tree stump to take a breather, rummaging around his pocket he fished out the piece of silver foil he recovered from the cigarette packet and wrapped it around the tip of his index finger forming a tube, pulling it off his finger he squeezed the foil together halfway along its' length, twisting it forming a stem before flattening the end to form a base. Rosetta plonked herself down on an ivy covered log fascinated by what Charlie was up too, "Close your eyes Rosetta", looking a little unsure she closed her eyes, "Open your hands", Rosetta bit her lip nervously twiddling with the pigeon feather, tucking the feather in her hair she opened her hands. Charlie placed the tiny silver paper chalice in her hands, saying, "Open your eyes", Rosetta flicked open her eyes expecting a spider or nasty creepy crawly of some kind, "Oh Charlie its' beautiful", raising the silver chalice above her head she toasted the air and shouted, "May the summer never end", Charlie stood up gently kissing her on the lips, for the very first time in her life Rosetta stood speechless, frozen to the spot, Charlie smiled, picked up his arrow, wrapped the shoelace around it, throwing it into the air one more time, Rosetta felt a little light headed as she looked over towards Charlie and smiled sweetly, placing her hands to her chest she gently sighed as she watched the arrow sail through the air, her heart grew wings and took flight.

Sadly the summer did come to an end, as did many others too, time had moved on so quickly, they would always remember their golden days in the sun, the carefree days of childhood, the precious moment when their hearts took flight on the day they both fell in love. One moment in time had spawned a lifetime of sweet memories, a bond of love was sealed with loves first kiss, the two childhood sweet hearts eventually got married and had a son, they named him Robin, he became the father of Rose their only grandchild. Old father time was a cruel master; it had a way of taking away many of the things Charlie cherished, one thing he cherished above all else was his loving family. Now Charlie only had his memories to comfort him as he sat alone in his garden shed, he put down his Japanese saw blade and walked towards his work bench, looking down he picked up the wooden arrow sitting next to a little silver paper chalice, Charlie caressed the wood with his fingertip, gripped it tightly in his wrinkly old hands, he kissed it, lifting it high above his head, he placed his callused palm to his mouth and began to chant as the tears began to well up in his deep blue eyes the flood gates opened, he cried alone in despair .
CHAPTER EIGHT

BALL OF CONFUSION

The old man had become confused, he never knew where he was at times, his mind seemed to be in a perpetual state of flux, a portal he disappeared into, half the time he never knew if he was coming or going or even which day of the week it was, his reality was often blurred. Was he really going crazy? he often thought he was or was it the doses of drugs he had taken, the morphine he took was so powerful, it had to be to ease his often insufferable pain, Charlie had wanted to fight this thing eating him alive on his own terms, his cancer was not going to make him another victim, he was determined to beat it, no way would he allow this evil insidious decease confine him to a hospice bed, he had a promise to keep to his granddaughter Rose and he would see it through to the very end, determined this old man would rather die trying than lay down and die without a fight, especially now he had a reason to live.

The side effects of the drugs he had taken may have clouded his mind, making him disorientated and confused at times when his pain threshold was so overloaded it would become unbearable, the drug had held it at bay, keeping him functional to a point, through the muddled haze he still continued to work upon his precious gift for his granddaughter Rose.

Some days his body was winning as he went into remission, giving him respite for a little while making him feel alive again, invigorated and full of energy, then, Bam!, like a bolt from the blue, the Devil had returned, sending a shockwave through his pain sensors, searing through his nerve endings like electricity, never knowing when the pain switch would turn off again leaving his body in total disarray, driving him nearer and nearer to the edge of insanity. Charlie's body was at war with itself every day, the battle was not yet over, he would try to fight off this ugly, unrelenting decease every inch of the way, it had become an internal fight of mind over matter.

Charlie's strong will power had become a force to be reckoned with, after all his mental resilience against the decease had got him this far hadn't it, he would not give up on life until his final goal was achieved and his promise to Rose fulfilled. Taking another dose of the mind numbing concoction, the lights went out, the drug hit the kill switch of pain, Charlie fell into the tranquil comforting calm waters of oblivion he drifted away into a black void the blackness so dark, so deep it was almost indescribable. Sometime later, waking from his stupor and feeling emotionally drained Charlie slumped back into his chair, he felt he was on a merry go round he could never get off as his dizzy head spun around like a top, he stared out the window into the garden, his memory seemed to blur, his minds' eye opened up again into another time, another place, the sun was shining and the birds were singing, looking down from above like an out of body experience he became lost again in the world he once knew.
CHAPTER NINE

PRETTY MAIDS ALL IN A ROW

Outside the bright sunlight reflected off the surface water flowing over the gentle curved edge of a bronze sculpture of a young girl wearing a simple dress, her head tilted slightly forward to the left as two song birds splash and bathe themselves in one of the shallow bowls of cool running water being held within her delicately formed hand, overflowing fountain water spills over the mossy edge of the two shallow bowls refreshing the pond beneath it. A small brass plaque sits on top of a metal spike, engraved with the words "The Bird Girl" it represented the innocence of childhood, every day its' presence reminded Charlie constantly of the love he had for his very own Granddaughter Rose.

Bird song punctuated the sound of the slow trickling waters as agitated water boatman paddle across the waters skin trying to avoid the sharp biting fangs of water spiders hiding in their bubble nests, awaiting their prey they scrape life giving air bubbles off their hairy legs , store them inside their ingenious diving bells. Small eddies mill around the large pond, full of iridescent orange, gold , yellow Japanese carp swimming freely in the crystal clear water, moving majestically the fish rising up , breaking the surface tension with their wide pouting mouths, gulping down the insects resting upon the surface.

Ugly water nymphs emerge and rise up from the watery depths like aliens from another world, their paper like skin splits behind their heads as the metamorphosis begins. The teneral insects break away from their ghostly shell, crawling along to the top of the thick green reeds they unfurl their soft gossamer wings and wait patiently for the chiten to dry in the midday sun. Compound eyes look out upon the multifaceted world as their long protruding antennae scan the skies, now reborn the army of jewel like emerald green dragonflies take flight on their mission to bring joy into the world. Sitting on lily pads; lime green frogs puff out their throats, singing out loudly with deep baritone voices as the cricket chorus skip and jump in the long green grass as they compete to break the silence. Giant sun flowers stand tall like sentry's raising their yellow flower heads to the sky, worshipping the sun in praise of Mother Nature. Swallowtail butterflies play a colourful game of hide and seek among the blossoms, dancing from flower to bejewelled flower, coming to rest on the flowering blooms they flick out their long proboscis in search of a drink, taking their fill of the life giving nectar, replenishing their energy before continuing on their way. Sweetly singing, the little girl skips along the gravel pathway, edged by the lush green grass, scattered with pink and purple flowers, rise up their heads from the shadows to worship the midday sun. The sunlight reflects off young Roses' white cotton dress, keeping her cool, from the intense heat as gentle breezes kiss the heavy scented air, having a cooling effect upon the skin; high summer had arrived in a small quaint village nestled in the bosom of old England.

Looking towards the sky she watches as a red kite glides effortlessly through the air then hovers in search of its` prey in the golden corn fields below. Shadows of protection from a wide brimmed straw hat fall upon her pale ivory complexion as the fierce heat beats down from the glaring Sun. Little clouds of dust rise from the ground as her red sandals brush over the loose gravel path covering the dry earth, making a repetitive scrunching sound beneath her feet as Rose made her way in search of her loving Grandfather Charlie Dapple. The garden was her playground, a place where she made her own adventures, which where only ever limited to her own imagination. It was her grandfathers' pride and joy he had spent many hours of digging, planting and nurturing everything which grew within it and around it. He had built a haven from the outside world, a place where he could while away the hours, losing himself within his own creation. He was a child too, a child of nature , he rejoiced in it, he never wasted a thing, making use of all sorts of unusual objects such as old ceramic wash basins, toilet pans, they were all planted up like flower pots the containers overflowing with flowers, herbs and the like, wooden beer barrels became potato pots or used to collect rain water, worn rubber car tyres with their metal wheel rims became strawberry tubs, willow branches became climbing frames for sweet peas and runner beans as red chimney pots became alive with blossoms and blooms.

The fencing was all handmade in a crisscross fashion made from old wooden pallets thrown away by the farmer down the lane. For donkeys years Charlie had recycled all kinds of junk that people had thrown away, long before the government saw saving the environment as a money making scam. This was no ordinary garden, it was filled with love, created by a man with a passion, a passion for life, as old as he was he never tired of producing, something from nothing. Dry earth became alive again; discarded objects became reborn as useful items and empty spaces regenerated. It was a place a child could run wild with imagination and creativity an all inspiring place where childhood was welcome and not dismissed, Rose was a very fortunate child indeed.

Her grandfather was a very gentle man, likeable with a very redeeming nature, he never saw himself as a gardener, often he would say to Rose, that he was an apprentice, an apprentice of Eden and believed one day he would be welcome there as a gardener, whatever that meant. Grandad was always tidy, much like his garden; he always wore navy blue trousers, a navy blue three button waistcoat with a shiny two-tone back to it. His trousers where always hitched up with a thick black leather belt and oddly a pair of leather braces, very strange!

He spent ages tirelessly polishing his black boots as he said it protected them from the elements. He always wore a red spotted scarf around his neck tied in a tight knot at the front, betraying his gypsy heritage, his well starched white cotton shirt always appeared unstained, no matter what he was doing, he was immaculate. Much like Albert Einstein his wardrobe was full of identical matching clothes and shoes, her grandfather was a very practical man after all, it had always made sense to him, and it made his life easier as he never had time to decide on what to wear he was always too busy. His sight was good but not as good as it once was, he wore a pair of half rimmed gold framed glasses and he kept track of time with an antique gold flip top fob watch, (try saying that in a hurry), which was passed down to him by his father, it was attached to a heavy gold link chain, the watch played a sweet melody of "Moonlight Sonata" each time the lid was open. Inside was a photograph of his wedding day, encased in an intricately worked gold frame, etched around with scrolled vines, protected with a crystal glass cover and outside the rim, the word "Rosetta" was heavily engraved underneath the picture.

The crystal glass had a little gold hinge which allowed access to the priceless picture inside, Rosetta was the love of his life and he carried her image with him every day. They once had a very full happy life even though he had met Rosetta many years ago his feelings towards her had not changed since the very first day he had met her. In some ways they were very much alike in other ways not, yet they always worked as a team, never complaining about anything. Though they had many tough years in the past, Grandad could never part from his darling wife, he could not live life without her and he would never let her go, for anything in the world. To Rose her grandparents where the best in the world, she loved them both equally, they gave her so much joy and happiness, she repaid them with her genuine love and respect.

Rose was most fortunate, life had given her an idyllic childhood, one which would allow her to bloom and grow freely, much like her grandad's garden. Rose giggled, as a bright red and black lady bird landed on her fingertip, she watched as it tickled her fingertip circling around it. Grandad always said, they were a gardener's friend, as they kept the aphid numbers down, aphids where little bugs which eat the new baby shoot of plants.

These little aphid bugs could ruin plants in no time at all devastating a garden, he had always told her they should be appreciated as the ladybirds were the gardener's friend, he never sprayed his plants with insecticide as the ladybirds did all the work for him The lady bird opened its wing casing, spread out its' little wings and flew off into a nearby shrub, leaving behind a very excited Rose. The silence was broken by the loud sound of tapping; Rose became curious, following the sound, it appeared to be emanating from her grandads' old wooden shed. Stopping outside the shed door, Rose reached out her hand, grabbing hold of the door handle and she tried to pull the heavy shed door open, it appeared to be bolted from the inside. "Grandad", Rose called out, "Grandad", there was no answer, just a tap, tap, tapping, coming from the other side of the door. Roses' curiosity began to get the better of her, peering into a small crack, she pushed her face up against a tiny knothole in the door, nothing was visible just a black empty space, squinting her eye tightly she strained her eyes, now all she could see was the dust drifting through the broken rays of sunlight coming in through the tiny cross framed window as they disappeared into the darkness.

Becoming frustrated and a little annoyed Rose became very curious, "What is he up to in there? I will find out, I'm not giving up that easy, no way, no how". Rose ran around to the side of the large shed, outside was an old upturned tin bath, the very old kind which was once used before indoor baths had taps and inside running water was attached to them. Climbing up on top of the old tin bath, Rose hoped she could see what her grandad was doing inside the shed; wiping her dainty hand, across the glass she brushed the cobwebs away, allowing the sunlight to penetrate through the gloom, a big black house spider scurried away into a gap underneath the window sill, as if insulted by the destruction of its' new creation.

Inside an old tradesmen bicycle with a heavy metal basket at the front, was propped up against a pile of red bricks, the name "Dapples' Bakery" was sign written upon an enamel panel, in gold paint attached between the crossbar and the pedals. It was covered in what appeared to be a layer of black dust or soot now unkempt and long forgotten, it was sad to see such a once important part of her Grandad's past life being neglected and treated in such a way. Now it was the only reminder left of the little bakery grandad and grandma once owned down in the village.

Grandad no longer wanted to be anywhere near the bakery so he decided it was time to try and put the past golden years of his life behind him, he wanted to live away from the hustle and bustle of village life, his days as a baker were now dead and gone. Rose began to tap the window with the palm of her hand, resulting in a muffled sound which was drowned out by the loud noise her grandad was making inside the shed. "Oh Grandad, why can't you hear me it's me Rose?" she called, still no answer, just the sound of tap, tap, tap. Rose was just about to call out again, when the sound inside stopped, a wiry shadow appeared to be moving inside the shed, slowly creeping towards the shed door. Excited Rose stooped down and shuffled her way along the old tin bath she crouched down on the edge springing into the air like a gymnast falling hard on her bottom in the tall dry wild grass, Rose stood up feeling a little sore, brushing the grass seeds of the back of her dress, she moaned to herself, "Stupid things", annoyed by their presence, fussy Rose gritted her teeth determinedly and continued to remove every last one from the white cotton dress her grandmother had made her.

Skipping along contentedly she found her way to the front of her grandfather's shed and listened out for any sound she could hear, hearing a dull scrapping sound of wood on wood, Rose stood impatiently as her grandfather removed the large wooden plank he used to wedge the door shut from the other side of the door.

The door creaked slowly open, out of the gloom appeared a very happy looking grandfather, twirling a big black key around his pointy finger. He closed the wooden door and put the big black key into the well-worn keyhole, as he turned it, he smiled and said "No one will see it, until it's finished, that also means you Rose Dapple". Reaching inside his pocket he pulled out his gold watch and flipped open the lid, "It looks like it's time for tea Rose, come on lets' get back to grandma, I'm sure she is waiting for us", Rose, looked at her grandfather, saying, "Please, please tell me, please grandad". Grandad tapped the side of his nose with his slender fingertip, "That is my little secret, "What is Grandad, what?" Rose replied excitedly. "Well my dear, that is for me to know and for you to find out." Rose seemed a little down hearted, looking down at the ground, she began to twist her foot, twiddling her locks between her fingers, saying with a knowing smile "It's for my birthday isn't it grandad", he looked down at Rose, "You will just have to wait and see young lady, be patient Rose, you will find out soon enough".

Rose reached out her hand and grabbed her grandfather's bony hand, "Love you grandad", she said, "Love you to, my little petal", he replied, as he winked a wrinkly old wink, he closed the lid to his gold fob watch and returned it back to his waistcoat pocket . Slowly they walked along the gravel path, enjoying the warm summer sun on their backs as they chatted and laughed together, telling silly jokes. Grandad stooped down and picked a single white daisy from the grass verge by the pathway, examining it he smiled broadly as he cast his mind back to a time when his wife Rosetta and Rose would make daisy chains in the garden, they use to sit for hours picking daisies in the hot summer sun. Often Rose would dress her dolls in all kinds of floral finery, she lined them all up, like pretty maids all in a row, dressed them with daisy garlands, necklaces, bracelets, all made from nature's gems. Even the family cat "Chalky" could not escape, becoming part of Roses' grand designs, as she dressed her up in daisy chain garlands, ribbons and the like. One of the oddest things Rose use to do was hold up a buttercup under her Grandmothers' chin, she said it was to see if she liked butter or not, how that worked Charlie still couldn't fathom out or understand, it was a pure mystery to him.

Life was so different then, who would of thought that such simple acts could bring so much pleasure and happiness, a time of innocent memories, when all was right with the world and most of all it was a time of great joy. Twiddling the heart-warming little gem of a flower between his fingers he looked all around the beautiful garden, his heart went out to the less fortunate ones out there in the real world, the poor kids, who would never have the joy of their own back garden, yes, they had the local park to play in but it wasn't the same. Sadly times had changed, in Charlie's day anyone could kick a football freely anywhere. "No Ball Games", now it had become forbidden in some places and fines imposed on kids who just wanted to let off a little steam, the strict rules imposed by councils, meant they could never have a chance to play as freely and safely as Rose once did. Even though he had only seen the tower blocks in passing as he toured around the country in his vintage motor, he couldn't help but feel a little compassion and sad in his thoughts as he realised just how blessed he was, he saw the high rising grey monstrosities as prisons for the poor, sighing he murmured to himself, "Life goes on my friend, life goes on".

Getting up from his haunches with a heavy heart, he placed the little white daisy gently in to his waistcoat pocket, tapping his pocket, he smiled, as if hiding a secret he continued along the crunchy, gravely path. The wind picked up a little bit as the fresh perfume of the garden air filled their senses, Rose gave out an all mighty sneeze, "bless you", her grandad said in a concerned manner. "I knew I shouldn't have planted that purple lavender, it always gives you hay fever", Rose sniffled, "That's O.K. Grandad', don't worry, it's just a sneeze". They both started to pretend to sneeze and laughed all the way back to the cottage. The day had been so hot, the hanging baskets in the porch seemed to be tired, the sun had dried them all out and the top soil had become dusty in the unforgiving heat, nothing that a little sprinkle of water wouldn't sort out.

That was grandmas' job, it appeared as though she had been neglecting her duties, she had a way with hanging baskets, and she won many a prize at the village flower shows in the past. The wooden swing seat began to move slightly as a sudden gust of wind appeared out of nowhere, the supporting chain rattled as if it was reminding grandad that it was still there. "Must be a storm coming Rose, I think its best we bring in those clean sheets off the washing line for grandma before it rains". The big white sheets began to flutter in the gathering breeze, like the sails of on a pirate ship, "there she blows", grandad shouted out as another gust of wind blew the sheets away from the washing line the wooden pegs pinged into the air one at a time and began spinning around like helicopter blades.

The heavy gust of wind carried the sheets down the garden path like a runaway bride all dressed in white. Grandad chased the out of control cotton , shouting as loud as he could, "Stop, stop!", as if the sheets could hear him, chasing them until they all got caught up on a pyramid of willow sticks, which he once grew his pink and purple sweet peas on. Puffing and blowing like an old steam train, grandad wheezed as he stopped for a breather and bent over to catch his breath, "I'm too old for this bleeding malarkey, those sheets seem to be possessed or something, they certainly got a mind of their own", he muttered to himself.

Gathering the escaping bed sheets, he began his trek back up the garden path towards the cottage; he adjusted the weight on his shoulder, trying not to drag the escapees on the dusty gravel path. Pulling out his watch he checked the time, he could see Rose rushing about, collecting the wooden pegs off the ground, as the strong wind began to blow against her light cotton dress, her long black locks, where blown around, covering her face, hindering her search for grandmas' wooden clothes pegs as she bundled them up, placed them into a little wooden peg basket.

Rose began to run as fast as she could back to the cottage leaving her bow legged grandad trudging up the garden path behind her, looking somewhat like a giant laundry basket with little legs. The powerful wind began to blow around the orchard its force shaking the apples off the trees, white flower blossoms rolled across the windswept lawn as the clouds blackened and the sky flashed electric blue, a crack of thunder shook grandads' body just as he reached the back doorstep, the thunder cracked again making the hairs on his neck stand up as the lightening tore through the sky like an ice blue electric whip he quickly opened the kitchen door and stepped inside to shelter from the approaching storm.
CHAPTER TEN

THE STORMY NIGHT

Dumping the laundry on top of the huge pine kitchen table next to the empty peg basket Charlie caught his breath, "That was lucky Rose, we got back just in time", the kitchen was empty, there was no sign of Rose or Grandma anywhere, the old man stood with his hand on the table, scratching his chin he paused in thought "I know where they are", taking his hands off the table, he turned on his heels and walked out of the kitchen across the stone floor into the hallway. Making his way to the stairwell he crouched down under the low oak beam underneath the staircase, huddled shivering in the corner holding tightly onto one another was Rose and her Grandmother, cuddling a fluffy black wild eyed staring cat, her sharp claws embedded deep into Grandmas' red woollen cardigan. "I knew you two would be hiding there, come on, it's only thunder". Charlie stooped down offering a hand of sympathy and compassion as grandma unhooked the bedazzled looking cat from her cardigan she offered up the frightened cat to her very concerned husband. Rose and her grandmother shuffled out from under the stairs, brushing the cat hairs of their clothes as they stood up. "Come on you two, let's go and have some of that farmhouse bread and a nice cup of tea", said grandad as he stroked the purring, agitated ball of black fluff. Grandad sat down in his rocking chair, in the kitchen ruffling the thick black fur under the pussies chin, he began too gently rock back and forth talking in soft quiet comforting tones, "You don't like that noisy old thunder, do you puss?" The cat seemed to purr in agreement and slowly blinked her eyes in a manner of a cat that just got the cream, the cat relaxed, went limp as cats do and drifted off into a deep, deep, sleep. Grandma was busy putting the washing on to the old wooden clothes horse that grandad had made her many years ago, moving her way to the oven she opened the oven door, releasing the wonderful aroma of freshly baked bread, which was by now cool enough to eat. Stooping down she removed a large, round cottage loaf and placed it on the bread board on top of the oak kitchen worktop. Ripping off the very top part of the crusty bread, she placed it on a separate plate, proceeded to cover it with a thick layer of butter. Picking up a serrated bread knife she began cutting big fat slices off the farmhouse loaf, "Don't worry love, I have already broken off your favourite bit", Charlie always had the crispy golden brown top part of the round farmhouse loaf with a big knob of butter on it, he said the crust was always good for his teeth and having a full set of teeth at his ripe old age was a testament to it. Grandma passed a large plate of buttered bread in front of him Charlie rubbed his hands together and beamed a huge smile "Here you are my love, thanks for bringing in my washing". Rose sat chamming on a large slice of thick bread, strawberry jam covered her lips, like a sweet sugary chap stick, smiling she said, "Tasty jam grandma", as she sat in a snug corner taking another big chomp out of the tasty jam sandwich contentedly swinging her foot in time with her grandads' rocking chair.

"Tea everyone", said grandad, as he got up, removing the black fur ball from his lap, putting her down gently into her well cushioned cat basket tucked away in a warm corner of the kitchen close to the Aga cooker. He looked out of the diamond shaped lead paned window, staring out at the cloudy sky with a thoughtful look on his face, "I reckon that's' in for the night love, it will be good for the garden though, those plants need a good old watering," he said knowingly. Picking up the boiling hot kettle off the stove Charlie poured the hot water into the bright red ceramic tea pot, he had always used real tea, not tea bags, he loved the strong flavour, and he always brewed it to perfection. Whilst the tea was brewing he collected three mugs from the draining board, Rose had a pink one with a little pony on it, grandma had one with beautiful roses on and Charlie had the biggest mug you ever did see ,with one word printed on it in great big capital letters, "GRANDAD'S". When the brew was ready, Charlie poured the tea into the three mugs, he always added the milk and sugar last, which created a strong golden brown brew, a tea so good, that one mug was never enough. Picking up the old wooden tea tray he placed the three mugs upon it, poking his hand inside his waistcoat pocket Charlie found the floral gem he had hidden their earlier that day, retrieving his little secret he put the white daisy on the tray next to the mugs. He carried the tray over to the kitchen table and placed it down gently just so he didn't spill any of the tasty brews he had so lovingly made for them all. Picking up the dainty white flower from the tea tray he walked across the kitchen and stood by the kitchen sink, hiding the daisy behind his back, smiling, "Come here Rose". Jumping down from her stool, she walked across the kitchen floor standing in front of her Grandfather, "Close your eyes' Rose", she closed her eyes waiting in anticipation, and he stroked Roses' raven hair, placing the flower gently behind her ear he smiled. The daisy slipped, falling on to the stone kitchen floor, picking up the beautiful bloom, he walked over to the kitchen sink, picked up a little egg cup from the window sill, upon it was written "Rose". Turning on the cold water tap, he proceeded to fill the egg cup with a little water putting the white daisy inside the egg cup. Adding a tiny spoonful of sugar to the vessel, he thought to himself, "That will keep it going", then placed it back on the red tiled window sill. Returning to the kitchen table he picked up Grandmas' mug passing it to her as she strolled towards the kitchen window and stared out into the garden. Rose fidgeted in her chair, picked up her mug, cupped it in her hands and took a little sip, "Thank you Grandad, it tastes lovely". Charlie sat down into his rocking chair, holding his giant mug by the handle he took a big slurp, "ah!" He gasped, "That is what you call a real cupper cha". Grandma stood peering out of the kitchen window clutching her hand around the mug, "Yes my dear, no one makes tea like you" Grandma turned away from the window, walked across the kitchen and sat down next to Rose," Feeling better love, now that the thunder is calming down, it really scared you for a while, don't worry it looks like the storm is easing up a bit now" Just as she put her mug down on the table, the room was illuminated by a big flash of lightening followed by a rumbling clap of thunder. "Spoke to soon there love, I think its back with a vengeance", Grandad said, as he looked very concerned for Rose. "You alright Rose", Grandma, gave Rose a little squeeze of comfort, as she placed her loving arm around Roses' tiny waist. Rose lifted her head up in a sheepish manner, smiled, "I 'm alright Grandma, it's "CHALKY", I'm worried about", Rose was referring to her big black fluffy cat curled up in the corner oblivious to the world; she had got the name many years ago from her Grandad.

One day, when she was a kitten, Charlie was looking around the garden for her when his search was interrupted by an awful screeching sound, walking towards the orchard he caught the tiny kitten attempting to sharpen her claws on an old slate roof tile propped up against the base of an apple tree, the sound was like scraping chalk on an old school black board, it was so ear piercing it set his teeth on edge, so from that day on, he named her, "CHALKY", it has been ever since. Chalky was safely curled up in her basket fast asleep, her legs' twitched as if chasing a little mouse or something, as she dreamed her pussy cat dreams. Rose watched as Chalky shuffled about in the basket contented totally unaware of the raging storm outside. Grandma looked at Rose, "Come on Rose finish your sandwich and drink your tea then I can show you how to make a peg doll", "A peg doll, Grandma, what s' that?" Rose seemed curious, as she hurriedly sipped her tasty beverage, her Grandad had made her.

Charlie relaxed back into his chair, chomping on his crusty bread, slurping his tea loudly back and forth he rocked in his old rocking chair gently moving his shiny black boots on the stone kitchen floor to the rhythm of the squeaky chair. Sitting contented, he began to think deep thoughts as he listened to the heavy rain tapping heavily on the kitchen window as the wind began to howl. He leant over and turned on the old cream and red Bakelite radio then tuned it in to his favourite radio station, luckily he just caught the chorus the Beatles, The Long and Winding Road; he closed his eyes and sang along to the melancholy sound of the music. Picking up a book of poems, Charlie reads his favourite poem Myfanwy by John Betjeman as the words send him back to his younger days, images of a young Rosetta riding her bicycle wonder through the corridors of his mind. Outside, the storm raged, the heavy rain pounded the roof of the garden shed, the water running down along the guttering into the down pipe, filling the wooden water barrel until it began spilling over the metal brim. The wash basin and ceramic toilet planters, overflowed with water, the blooms drowning in a sea of rain. The Japanese Koi appeared to celebrate as they darted and swam around the pond as the heavy rain buffeted the waters' surface refreshing their gills with life giving oxygen. The gravel path glistened, as the lightening broke across the rain lashed sky, the trees and the flower blooms, bowed their heads, to the powerful force of Mother Nature. Tree branches, creaked and moaned as the strong winds tore across the open fields, gathering enough force to break the branches off a century old oak tree, it had survived for so long, now it was under the imminent threat of destruction by the powerful gale force wind ripping through its aged branches.

The black sky was broken by an almighty flash of electric blue light followed by the crackling sound of thunder, as a lightning bolt; hit the solitary oak tree as it earthed itself to the ground, splitting the tree in two like a hot knife through butter, boiling hot steam hissed into the air as the electrical charge burned its' way deep into the heart of the blackened wood, charring the bark as it made its' devastating way to earth, leaving the tree visibly scarred forever as a reminder of the devastating power of mother nature. Impaled upon a barbed wire fence a black crow hung loosely by its broken neck, its' dead eyes stared out into the maddening sky as the torrent of rain pounded the sodden earth beneath it, just another innocent victim. Animals scurried away for protection, darting into hedgerows, holes and dens, all trying to flee from the raging storm above. The dry earth was being replenished and renewed, the rain giving new life to shrubs, trees, seedlings and seeds, but only if they weren't washed away by the torrential rain.

The storm continued to rage deep into the night, relentlessly screaming like a banshee around and beyond the small village. Cattle, sheep and horses were all returned to their pens, sheds and stables, only the pigs appeared blissfully unaware, of the incessant, torrent of rain, their corrugated metal shelters, rattled as the heavy downpour, created a drumming cacophony of sound. Sows shamelessly rolled around in the sticky quagmire, joyfully splashing about and frolicking in the thick mud, glorious mud.

Horses and ponies looked bedraggled, sorry for themselves as they were stabled or being led in by their concerned owners, the musky smell of horses was heavy in the damp air as the moisture evaporated off the horse's wet backs, they munched on freshly cut hay recovered from the summer's well stocked lofts.

Pampering was the order of the day, removing wet head collars, rubbing down with dry rags, filling feed hoppers with treats for the scared and frightened ponies. Curry combs, groomed away as troughs and buckets were filled with fresh water, stools were mucked out, fresh straw was laid down as the horses and ponies, settled into their stalls. Many had become unsettled, startled by the thunder, now at ease and comfortable as they bedded down for the night, whinnying with contentment and approval. The young stable lads and lasses had proved their worth, they had all worked hard to comfort the animals against the raging storm outside, tired, totally exhausted by their unselfish efforts they turned off the lights, retiring to their snug comfy beds for the night with the knowledge of a job well done.

Farmers and sheepdogs, battled through the elements battling against the stinging rain, to collect their cattle and sheep from many sodden acres of fields, returning them to their dry warm pens for their own protection; where they would be bedded down for the night. The fierce, unprovoked attack on the hills and valleys, had created, small temporary, streams and ponds, where none had been before, the driving rain was like a blessing to some of Gods' feathered creations. The water loving birds, swans, mallards, Canada geese and storks, began exploring in the now waterlogged pastures. The muddy waters became enriched with life as all sorts of insect's worms and bugs became engulfed, carried away by the fast moving torrent. The water fowl searched for and sifted out, tasty treats from the fast running waters, like miners panning for nuggets of pure gold. As fierce as mother nature had been, the gift of new life had been bestowed upon the land the untold amount of damage to the trees and shrubs, would be only short term, taking away loose old decaying branches and replacing them with fresh new shoots, which would blossom in the years to come.

It appears that to create something new, nature has to destroy something in the process, the landscape had become reshaped many times by the forces of nature in the past, and this night had been no exception. Eventually the storm would pass, the wind, would blow itself out and the rain would cease, until then it continued its' punishing assault. Inside the cottage Charlie sat comfortably in his rocking chair as he continued to rummage around in his head, in a moment of clarity he searched for ideas for his secret project he had hidden away in the shed, Roses' birthday was not far away, he pondered on just how long it would take to make it. For many years he had collected all the tools in his shed, resulting in a fine collection of carpenters tools.

He recalled the day when he went to a jumble sale in the village church hall; they were raising money for a new font as the old one had been damaged way beyond repair. Mrs Day, a very large woman was attending the christening of her granddaughter, her clumsy son; Daniel had been binge drinking the night before and arrived at the christening in a rather somewhat confused state. Staggering in to church in a somewhat drunken state, he misplaced his footing on the steps leading up to the font, tripping over his own feet; he reached out to grab his mother to stop himself hitting the floor. In doing so, he pushed the very large rotund woman into the font, catapulting it like a trebuchet down the church steps, breaking it into many pieces. Holy water splashed into the air, covering so many people in attendance, appearing like a mass blessing in the river Ganges.

Ever since that day the local church congregation where trying to raise funds to replace it with a solid limestone font as the wooden one was way beyond repair, Mrs Day had proven wooden fonts where not safe around the likes of them especially her often inebriated son Daniel. Many people about the village began to think the accident in the church to be a blessing in disguise or some kind of divine intervention as months later Mrs Day reported to the local vicar that her son was now tea total after receiving the bump to his head he had not been drunk since the very day of the incident.

Rallying round to raise the funds the local villagers sorted out old bits and pieces from their lofts and cupboards, shop owners cleared out old stock as others offered up their cast offs and other bits and pieces all for the good cause. Daniel Day the ex-village piss head and cause of the event had all of a sudden come over all remorseful, donating his vast collection of German beer steins by way of penance for his affront he had caused to the local church.

Charlie never went out much these day his illness often prevented him doing many of the things he once liked, well that was until Ritchie the local postman eventually talked him round to going to the jumble sale and was kind enough to offer him a lift in his Royal Mail van as Charlie was having the occasional dizzy spell preventing him from driving his own car. On the day of the jumble sale Ritchie dropped Mr Dapple off outside the church hall, it was a very beautiful building made of limestone connected next to the main church, it had a great history, some even said the church had links and connections to the knights Templar, some say it was once supposedly used as a gathering place for many arcane gatherings in the past, locals even talked of a hidden treasure after the historic Reading Abbey was destroyed in 1538 by Henry VIII and the last abbot Hugh Faringdon was hung drawn and quartered outside in the grounds for treason. Many rumours where spread about the church, it seemed to have many secrets, yet no one in the village ever found out what they were, well, being a secret the local vicar doubted if they ever would.

Walking along the cemetery path towards the church hall Mr Dapple stooped down on his haunches and knelt down before a family memorial, bowing his head he said a prayer in respect of their memory. The branches of the tall maple tree began to creak loudly; the broad pointed leaves began to rustle above his head as a Robin flew down from the tree and perched upon the headstone pecking away at the polished brass plaque. The wind seemed to whisper in a quiet voice in Mr Dapple's ear, "Charlie" the branches stopped moving and all became calm, the gentle voice faded away with the gentle breeze. Getting up off his knees he watched as the robin flew off towards the church hall, Charlie wiped a tear from his eye and strolled up the wide path, looking back one more time to the memorial with a puzzled expression on his face, he stepped into the large church hall, crammed full of exited people; anyone would have thought that they had never been to a jumble sale before.

Charlie browsed around looking for one thing in particular, he had not been into the village for a very long time and felt rather out of place as he continued browsing around in the hustle and bustle of the very crowded church hall, looking around the jumbled tables and stalls strewn with all kinds of random items with only one kind of item on his mind, carpenters tools, as he sharpened his senses he went on the prowl to hopefully find them hiding amidst the chaotic mess.

After some time walking around Charlie began to think about going back home, the whole experience was becoming a little bit of a bore, he was getting a little fed up with being jostled about by the heaving mass of people, fruitlessly searching for the one thing he had gone there for in the first place.

He began to feel a little despondent and was losing interest after all if he could not see anything of any use there was no real point in buying something if he didn't need it and being a financially practical man he hated wasting money for the sake of it even if the jumble sale was for a good cause. He gave himself one last chance, stepping back into the craziness of it all, his eagle eye was drawn to a partially covered wooden box with dirty brass hinges and a crooked brass latch holding the box tightly closed. Throwing a bundle of clothes aside in his excitement, Charlie buried an old silver haired lady head deep in pile of underpants standing close to the table next to him, "Oh sorry Mrs Fielding," Mr Dapple said rather sheepishly, as he gently removed the laundry from the angry and disgruntled ladies face.

Reaching out his arm, he picked up the weighty old scuffed up box, forcing the catch open, breaking a fingernail in the process. "Ouch!" he grimaced, as he opened the lid, "Well I never", he grinned a great big smile, forgetting his painful injury in a second of delight. Inside was a very useful object indeed, he had wanted one like this for many years, an American made bronze and hickory, spoke shave, a very expensive one considering the makers name stamped upon it. This was a real treasure to Charlie he appreciated quality tools and he was holding one the Rolls Royce of tools in his very hands; to him it was one of the finest tools money could buy. Returning the treasure back to its' box he held it high up into the air as he called across the table and asked the lady on the stall how much she wanted for the priceless item in his tight grip. "Oh! As its' you Mr Dapple that will be a pound", Almost speechless, Charlie shook his head and replied insistently "You will take no less than sixty, see it as a generous donation my dear". The stall holder was taken aback, reluctantly taking the wad of money she was very appreciative of his generosity, slipping him a tea cake, "Thank you Mr Dapple; I can see us getting that new font sooner than later now". Taking a big bite from his tasty gift Mr Dapple mumbled, "Thank you", through a mouthful of homemade sponge cake, leaving the stall absolutely delighted with the absolute bargain he had just made.

Charlie's finger began to throb; the fingernail he had broken off was leaking a little blood and it was slowly beginning to ooze out around the tip of his finger, Reaching deep into his trouser pocket, he retrieved a white handkerchief, placing the wooden treasure box between his knees he attempted to wrap the hanky around his finger with his free hand and tried to tie a knot by manipulating the material with his teeth. Suddenly a distant voice shouted out from the milling crowd, "Grandad", Rose seemed to just materialise out of nowhere. Looking rather upset by the big blood stained handkerchief he was wrestling with as he stood all bent over and contorted attempting to keep possession of the precious wooden box between his legs.

Rose, reached up smiling, removing Charlie's hand from the awkward position it was in, saying in a concerned manner, "Let me do that for you Grandad, looks like you hurt yourself?" Gently Rose rearranged the handkerchief, tying it off, with a firm knot, Charlie looked at his concerned Granddaughter, gently brushing her raven hair, "Its' O.K. my sweet I just caught a fingernail opening the catch on the box, nothing to worry about my little love". Rose looked down at the wooden box still wedged between his bow shaped legs, "What is in that box?" she asked, in an inquisitive fashion, "Oh! That's' a little treasure I found, it's a spoke shave".

Rose had no idea what a spoke shave was, she just shrugged her shoulders, "OK that's nice grandad can we have a look at the toy stall now", Charlie seemed a little dismayed in her lack of interest of his newly found treasure, Rose seemed to have no interest at all, grabbing his empty hand she dragged him back excitedly into the noisy crowd.

Milling around the crowded room full of bargain hunters, Rose disappeared, Charlie squeezed in through a gap, wedging himself against the wooden table and a plump old lady who was rummaging around. The table was full of old used, unwanted toys. Charlie thought Rose must be struggling to see anything at all, so he placed the box between his legs put his arms around her waist and lifted her out of the chaos. Searching around the big table Charlie was not really sure of the surprises which could be found hiding beneath the depths of toys. Charlie knew Rose well, she had always been the kind of child that was content with most things and found joy in just looking around, losing herself in the atmosphere of it all just like he sometimes did. Her interest would be drawn by the curious old bits and pieces which others had discarded; Rose would not have been displeased even if she had come away from the table with nothing at all. Heaps of toys collected by the church congregation had been strewn all over the table, in a very higgledy-piggledy sort of way, an Aladdin's cave for any child to explore. Old scratched up, die cast model cars, plastic toy soldiers, jigsaw puzzles, comics, skipping ropes, story books, yoyos, teddy bears, dolls, wooden , plastic building blocks, model planes, spud guns, water pistols, plastic dinosaurs , action figures of all kinds, all once loved and cared for, now disowned, unwanted by the children of the village.

It would have been pleasing to Rose to think someone's child was possibly going to purchase any one of them once more and give them a new lease of life. Continuing to scan the table, Charlie spied a glint of gold, as it was caught by the bright sunlight, flooding in through the big arch shaped windows; it appeared to be part of a little wooden ornament, very small, possibly made of wood. It was buried beneath an immaculately dressed fashion doll, a cute fluffy teddy bear with big round eyes, hair slides and a bunch of velvet bows and ribbons, ignoring them all, he began poking and prodding at the partially hidden object, slowly tugging and pulling at it, bit by bit, eventually fishing it out of the sea of toys, revealing a tiny wooden rocking horse. The horse's mane and tail was almost as long as the horse itself, it had little glass bead eyes, a beautiful sculptured head and body, painted dappled grey it wore a miniature leather saddle and reins with tiny golden stirrups. The beautiful horse sat upon carved wooden bow rockers, attached with gold fixtures and fittings. Someone had created a little of a masterpiece and now it sat in the hands of someone who would appreciate the efforts it took to fashion it, Charlie knew a little girl who would cherish it for what it was, caressing every little curve of its' well designed body with his fingertip, the tiny horse mirrored in his big bright blue eyes as he was mesmerized by its' beauty.

Oddly for some reason or other Charlie had become transfixed by the object and was drawn by the little gem he held so tightly in his hands as if his very life depended up on it. Charlie became charged with emotion as he could imagine the sheer joy on Roses' face, the sign of a small tear appeared in the wrinkled corners of his eyes as he remembered a promise he once made to her and only until now had long forgotten. Containing his emotions, he pulled himself together and called out across the table, he choked up the words and enquired. "How much is the little rocking horse my love?"

The word had spread around the church hall about Mr Dapples' generosity; the stall holder had taken stock of what was being said that day about the likeable old soul. Looking across the table to the old man, the stall holder smiled sweetly, "Would you like that Mr Dapple?", as she stretched out her hand towards the object being held tightly in his trembling hand "Yes, please", he replied.

Taking the tiny rocking horse from his tight grip, she placed the horse into a white plastic bag, "No charge, it's a gift Mr Dapple". She leant forward and placed the white bag in his hand, "Take care Mr Dapple, your one in a million", clutching the bag , looking surprised by the free gift, he thanked the kind lady, turned away from the stall and began to push his way back through the heaving crowd of people then left the church hall. Charlie thought about how fortunate he had been by getting something for nothing from the toy stall, it had been a very eventful day, something special had happened that day to Charlie and he was very glad it did, as by sheer accident he remembered the promise he once made many years ago to his granddaughter Rose.

At times life had a strange way of sending an unexpected curve ball his way when he least expected it, which made things more interesting as he never knew what life would throw at him next. The jumble sale became an event he would not forget for a very long time, who would have thought that such a simple day out at a jumble sale would have ended with such an amazing reward. Charlie knew in his heart, that someone or something was watching over him from that very day and how life could sometimes be so unpredictable, often he had said to people, "God moved in mysterious ways"; his faith in a higher power had become renewed, he could not deny it from that day on.

Getting up from his rocking chair Charlie stretched his tired body, picking up his white mug he poured another golden brew; filling the mug so full he hardly had room for the milk. Slurping the excess tea, he made room for the milk then proceeded to add two heaped spoonful's of sugar. The storm was fierce, demanding itself to be heard, as the thunder continued to rumble, as the heavy deluge fell from the black clouds above.

Charlie's perspective on life always fell on the positive side, his glass was never seen as half empty, to him it was always a glass half full and his mind set was one of always looking on the bright side, he just looked out at the storm and thought about how good it would be for the garden and the surrounding pastures, it was a good excuse to build a log fire from all the wood he had collected.

Grandma and Rose had both moved into the front room where they sat in front of a glowing log fire, the flames illuminated the cosy room, casting shadows onto the cream colour walls, highlighting the glaze of the precious ornaments sitting on the oak beamed mantel piece above the fireplace. Charlie walked into the warm atmosphere of the room and snuggled down in to his comfortable armchair, placing his mug of tea on the little rosewood side table sitting in a small niche, next to the stone fireplace. His bones always seemed to feel the cold these days, no matter how warm it was outside during the day, the cold chill of the evening air always seemed to get to his lungs and left him feeling chilly. Breathing out a big sigh, he pushed his back into the comfy padded seat; he picked up the hot tea, moving the white mug to his lips, gulping off a big swig of tea, enjoying the full flavour of his favourite beverage. Grandma, looked across to her contented husband, "You and your tea, your turn into a mug of that one day", Charlie laughed as he thought of how odd that would be, Rosetta was good at making such silly remarks, quite often her dry sense of humour made her say some very amusing things in the past, "If the wind changes, your face will stay like that Rose", referring to the times when Rose was grimacing and pulling silly faces at her cat Chalky. On occasion, she would catch Charlie picking at his nose with a handkerchief, she would say very seriously, "If you carry on picking your nose your head will cave in". If Rose had left the crust on her plate she would say, "Eat up the crust Rose, it will make your hair curl" that seemed rather strange considering Roses hair was as straight as a die. Charlie's favourite comment was first heard the day Rosetta had purchased some black chocolate, taking a large bite of it as the bitter taste hit her taste buds she spat it out into to the palm of her hand, just as Charlie opened the kitchen door.

Charlie popped it into his mouth, the bitter taste almost making him sick, she laughed out loudly saying, "Nobody likes it but you can have it Charlie". Yes! she had many strange ways, but that is what made her so endearing, she had a silly sense of humour and often spoke in an odd way at times, yet Charlie would not change her for anything in the world, he loved her with all her faults and enjoyed being around her, he would have been a lost soul without her by her side.

Charlie returned his half-filled mug back to the little side table, feeling a chill in his old bones leaning forward he picks up the barley twisted fire iron, he poked and prodded at the fire as the red hot embers floated away up the chimney drawn up by the hot air current. The burning flames flickered from red to yellow, as the logs crackled spitting back into life as the glowing embers fall through the slotted grate, expires and forms a grey ash pile beneath. Charlie picked up a decent size log from the well-stocked wood pile he had collected from the small spinney at the end of his garden, all now contained in a very large wicker basket sitting at the side of the fireplace. Crouching down, he placed the log firmly on top of the dying fire, pushing it into the flickering flames, the fires intense heat sending a tingling sensation along the back of his sensitive hands.

Sitting back into his chair, he watched the log, as it was engulfed by the licking flames as they slowly wrapped themselves around it. Adjusting his gold rimmed glasses, Charlie's thoughts were drawn into the hypnotic depths of the orange and yellow light as the dancing flames reflected upon his glasses, his eyelids became heavy and his breathing more relaxed as the warm heat cradled him gently, caressing his old tired, aching body sending him into a deep, deep sleep. The long cased grandfather clock, chimed quietly, breaking the silence, as the large round brass pendulum swung like a metronome keeping the beat to his heart as Charlie's chest rose up and down with its' rhythm. The moonlight broke through the leaded windows, casting moving shadows of the tall trees upon the walls, the air permeated with the smoky smell of burned out wood. Long disjointed fingers of shadow crept down across the room as the darkness outside was punctuated by the occasional flash of lightening, highlighting the spindle tree just outside the lead paned window. The rhythmic breathing of the old man filled the room as the fire crackled and slowly burned itself out through the night, the few remaining embers reluctantly winked themselves out as the fire receded and turned into blackened ash.

The thunder rumbled faintly into the distant valley as the storm slowly passed bye, the wind howled gently across the top of the red chimney pots, the spinning brass weather vane creaked to a gentle stop. The storm was almost over normality would return to the land, the countryside and pastures settled down once again in the stillness of the night. The waters flowed steadily once more as the waterlogged land drained back into the earth, filling up underground reservoirs, before flowing back into the myriad of streams, rivers and ponds. Fast flowing white water passed over large rocks, slowly gathering speed as the shingle tumbled its way along the riverbed, releasing air bubbles, giving life giving oxygen back to the crystal clear water. Teasing insects, dart and dive as water boatman scurry across the surfaces skin of the water, metallic dragon flies of emerald green and blue bathe their wings under the silver moonlight. Refracted light, distorts the overhanging willow trees reflected in natures mirror, bowing branches reach down, causing ripples upon the water's surface as the light wind moved gently among the rustling leaves. Swans, Ducks and Moorhens, swim among the moonlit shadows as water voles and night time creatures scurry along the grassy river banks in search of any morsel they can find.

On top of a tall oak tree a solitary nightingale began to sing breaking the silence of the new dawn, birds in the hedgerows and trees joined in the chorus creating a vibrant cacophony of sound, nature was celebrating the arrival of a new day. The sun returned through the dispersing haze of low lying cloud, broken shadows of cloud fell upon the sodden earth carried across the open fields and pastures by the gentle breeze. The morning dew glistened like liquid diamonds upon the lush green grass, steam drifted off into the air from the rooftops, fences, out buildings and stables as the small towns bathed in the intensity of the early morning sun rays; Mother Nature had left its mark and many scars upon the land cleansing the earth, renewing itself in its fury. A cock crowed in the distant valley as small creatures woke from their night's slumber, the storm now just a memory as peace and harmony returned to the small hamlets and villages as the sun welcomed a bright new day deep in the heart of England.
CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE DAY AFTER THE STORM

Inside of the Dapples' cottage, Charlie opened his tired eyes, rubbing them gently, slowly adjusting his vision to the bright sunlight glaring in through the window, moving into an upright position he reaches into his waist coat pocket retrieving his old gold pocket watch, flips open the lid and takes note of the time then returns it back to his pocket. Scratching the back of his head, Charlie mumbles to himself saying, "Is that the time already, I must have fallen asleep, that storm really took it out of me last night." Lifting himself up from his comfy chair, he stands up and stretches his stiff aching joints, "Trouble with getting old, your whole body and muscles ache, nothing you can do, but get on with it I suppose", he moaned to himself quietly. Hobbling across the room he picked up his favourite white mug from the side table, worked his way slowly to the kitchen, pausing, he leans against the door frame and took in a deep breath like a sigh. "I suppose I better make some breakfast, just wish I had the energy to make it", he said to himself despondently. Taking a few more steps forward, he arrived at the kitchen sink, placing his mug into the washing up bowl. Turning on the hot water tap, he rinsed his mug under the hot running water and dried it with a checked dishcloth hanging it back up in its' place. Staring out into the garden, he watched as the blue tits began to feed on the bird table, scurrying up and down in a jerky fashion, as they pecked their beaks into the seed cakes he had made for them.

Often in the past Rosetta would sit and make seed cakes for the little garden visitors, she would just add melted lard to bird seed, nuts and raisins, let it cool down, then attach a piece of string around it and bobs' your uncle, a feast for all her feathered friends to eat. Rosetta had a great affinity for nature, finding pleasure in its' diversity, just the various species of birds attracted to the garden made her beam at the wonder of it all, include her interest in the gardening as well, it made her the contented woman she was. Rosetta loved watching the birds feed, Charlie made a swing seat in the porch way just so he could watch them and planted sweet smelling honeysuckle on a trellis fence next to it, just to remind him of Rosetta's' favourite plant. The porch was his comfort zone, he always sat there in the summertime, shaded from the sun, and he remembered Rosetta's passion for knitting and reading books as she listened to her favourite songs on the radio, recalling how she would sing along to the likes of her favourite singer Louis Armstrong. Rosetta's voice was so calming, Charlie would often listen to her sing as she attended to her hanging baskets full of fuchsias and pansies, she had planted at the bakery, it always amazed him how such a talent was hidden from the world, her voice would have knocked Ella Fitzgerald's rendition of Summertime into a cocked hat, she was just that good, how Charlie missed her dulcet tones. Charlie and Rosetta shared the same passion for gardening had it seemed they had always been at one with nature, if they weren't elbow deep in soil; they were both pruning, planting or creating something in and around the garden.

Their joy was to be found in the midst of the simple things in life, they were truly soul mates, they had built a firm foundation of trust and love together living in complete harmony they once shared a beautiful life together, Rosetta loved the quiet unassuming man with a gentle disposition, he was a gypsy born and bred, he was very proud knowing that gypsy blood would run through his veins until the very day he died. He had worked hard all his life, he never asked anyone in any way shape or form to help him out, so he often appeared to be stubborn, he would not relent to a helping hand from anyone, even if it meant suffering as a consequence, it had always been Charlie's way.

He was brought up to be tough, self-sufficient and self-reliant, that was the way it was, it had kept him in good stead for his whole life time, not many people of his age could survive what he had been through, yet his inner strength and self determination to carry on through thick or thin carried him forward with the motivation he needed to achieve any task he set himself out to do. So many times he thought of brilliant ideas spending many hours bringing them to fruition, Roses' birthday gift was to be no exception, he was determined to finish it in time for her birthday and the clock was now ticking, he knew too well he had only a limited time to complete his objective. Charlie had all he needed to complete his project, the finest tools money could buy, all the best quality wood he ever needed, but most of all the skill he had at his very fingertips. Charlie had taught himself to repair and make most things, he could build almost anything, he was a perfectionist, and if Rose was going to have a gift it would be one of a kind, made by his own skilful hands. He loved his granddaughter as much as he loved his crafts, his life would be empty, and it would mean nothing at all without his family, his lifelong passion for creating things. His very being was based on family life he loved providing for their needs, to make them happy and content in a world that he had created especially for them. Life was a journey he shared with his family, a journey of joy and happiness; nothing could replace the warm feelings of being around them, as a very gentle man he aspired to be the best he could be, giving his time freely, but most of all his unconditional love as a husband and family man should. To make a thing of beauty was his goal, a thing as beautiful as the person he was making it for, Rose would not know what it was until it was ready, all would be revealed on her birthday, it was only four weeks away and time waits for no man. Placing the cup down on the draining board, Charlie picks up the kettle filling it with fresh water from the kitchen tap and placed it on the gas ring to boil. Reaching up he retrieves the red ceramic teapot, lifts the lid and shovels in three large spoonfuls of tea into it. Retiring to his comfy old rocking chair he settles down tapping his feet on the stone floor, sitting quietly in his rocking chair as he slowly begins moving back and forth waiting impatiently for the water to boil. Charlie moves out of his chair in quiet anticipation of his favourite brew, puffing like a steam train the kettle began to whistle as he picks up the kettle and removes the lid of the spout pouring the boiling water into the teapot. After brewing the tea, he fills his mug, adding milk and two sugars, gulps it down then drinks a second mug of his golden brew. Washing up the crockery he leaves it up turned on the draining board, making everything ship shape before contemplating the day ahead. "Time to get busy", Charlie said, to himself as he opened the back door to the garden, dilly dallying along the gravel path, he took stock of the previous night's storm damage, the trellis once attached to the garden walls had blown across the garden, planters had toppled over and the fencing came away from some of the fence posts. The garden containers had been overturned and many plants had been windswept looking a little forlorn, rather down trodden, nothing a little replanting or topping up of compost wouldn't put right.

The washing line had been broken and the birdbath next to the pond had fell into the water, appearing like a beached ship on a sand bank. The garden damage appeared to be quite minimal considering the severity of the storm, the sun had begun to dry up all the excess water, leaving splashes of mud on the smaller shrubs and roses, how many of the climbers and more fragile plants had survived the onslaught, only God knows. It would take at least a day or two to put back all the fence panels and trellis, the garden shrubs would basically take care of themselves but the birdbath required a little repair as it had sustained a little damage resulting in a rather deep crack around the base. There were plenty of chores to get on with but Charlie chose to continue with his trek to his garden shed instead, his priority was Roses' birthday gift, time was getting on it seemed he had taking a little longer than he thought, examining the storm damage in the garden. "Oh my back", he murmured, to himself, as he took the shed key out of his trouser pocket and placed it into the lock ready to continue with his handy work.
CHAPTER TWELVE

THE ROCKING HORSE

Charlie proceeded to open the heavy shed door, turning on a light switch, he walked towards his work bench, pulling out a very old well used wooden stool he sat down, adjusting his position for comfort. His time became precious all he wanted to do was finish the gift for his Granddaughter in time for her special day, he could imagine the finished carving and he would work hard to make it to the best of his ability. His collection of tools where second to none, he owned a tool for every kind of cut a craftsman would ever be required to make, his workshop was one any carpenter would of liked to own, his dedication over many years resulted in the most comprehensive collection of tools a man or woman could ever wish to own. He began to arrange the tools he required for his project on his work bench in the order he would use them, proceeding to line them up from left to right. Looking around he noticed that one of his tools were missing from its' place on the wall, each tool was traced out in white paint in the shape of the particular tool that belonged there, so it was very easy to work out which one had gone missing.

It just so happens that the particular tool in question was actually being used, he felt a little silly not remembering where it was, the G clamp was firmly holding two pieces of wood together, it appeared he was just not thinking right, maybe his concentration was not as focused as it should have been, old father time had caught up with him, his memory had become a little vague over the years. The workshop was well stocked full of the materials he had prepared, mainly yellow pine, cherry wood and ash wood, all of which he loved to use in his work.

Pine and cherry wood were easy to work with, it gave off a wonderful aroma the ash wood had very strong durable flexible properties, it was ideal for what he had in mind. A lot of time would be spent in preparation sorting out the right wood and tools for the job in hand, it was a very important part of the process, he would not make any short cuts, it was in his nature to be well prepared, he was resolute in all his decisions to make sure everything would be at hand, ready and in its' place. Systematically examining his tool selection on the work bench, selects a coping saw, takes it firmly by the hand and addresses the solid block of wood he had placed in the jaws of the carpenters vice.

Without any pencil mark or line he begins to cut out a rough shape, inch by careful inch, moving and adjusting the blade to accommodate the exact shape he envisioned in his mind's eye, concentrating on the curve of the line stopping and finely adjusting the saw to follow the precise path guided by his skilful hands. Removing the sweet smelling wood from the vice Charlie adjusted the angle placed it back in between the jaws and tightened the vice firmly, examining the outline with his critical eye before placing the saw up against it he continues to effortlessly cut out the unfolding shape until it is complete, removing the hot blade of the coping saw after its' final cut is done.

Picking up a chisel he tests it's; cutting edge on a piece of scrap wood, then fine tunes it on a sharpening stone until the edge cuts like a razor, his experience over many years had proven that sharp tools were safer than blunt ones as they cut much easier and had less chance of slipping or damaging the wood. Placing the chisel up against the wood Charlie begins to fashion an oval shape out of the wooden block, each cut releasing the rich smell of the wood as he shaped his design upon it. With no blueprint or plan to follow, he followed his heart, creating something from his own imagination drawing on all his experience, his expertise was his gift and his carpentry skills were second to none. As a true musician or artist is born, so was his skill, something he was born with, even as a small child he whittled all sorts of animals and objects out of old scrap pieces of wood even though he had his father as a teacher, he was born with a natural gift he had the eyes of a sculpture and the precision of a carpenter.

Jesus was the son of a carpenter and Charlie prided himself in not only being a true Christian man but a carpenter just like his maker, every time he worked on a piece of wood, he always felt as if a super natural force with him, guiding his every move. Above his work bench hung a well sculptured yellow pine crucifix he had made, which was blessed by the local priest at the local village church a few years previous, underneath it Charlie carved a poem on a square piece of pine called "Footsteps in the sand", the words always gave him great comfort.

Whenever someone asked how he made something, he would respond by saying, I don't know myself, its' as if my hands are being guided by someone else, all Charlie really knew was he was extremely good at what he did as to how it really happened was just a mystery. His hands moved freely over the wood, using every inch of the sharp blade intuitively, cutting deeper and deeper into the grain of the wood, the cuts roughing out the shape, controlling every deep cut with dexterity and precision, inch by inch shaping, contouring the solid block like sculptor modelling clay. This was going to be an original, a showpiece of over sixty years of learning, not a Lines, Ayres or Collinsons, created from passion and love, one last object of perfection from a perfectionist, an old man of some eighty years, now using a lifetime of his experience.

Breathing heavily with each cut of his chisel and every tap of his mallet the sweat oozing out of every pore of his aged cancer ridden body, the beautiful form would be extracted over time this would be his final swan song a triumph of judgment and his ability to work around a piece of wood unlike any other carpenter in the village. Here was a man who never used a rule, plumb bob or spirit level in his life, even in his dotage, he could envision a line or plane within a millimetre, his eyes could see without any man made contraption, well, apart from his gold rimmed glasses, the only guide he required was the touch, the feel of the wood as he transformed it by sheer instinct, the faith of his own judgment. When something went amiss like a knot or unnatural fault in the wood, Charlie could rectify it by his ability and redirect a misplaced cut of his blade to a more desirable place, making fine adjustments to gain control of the shape he had desired taking one step nearer to its true direction. Slowly shaping the wood as the spoke shave cut its path through the undulating curves, every intricate detail, giving the finely carved head a life like appearance. From the ears to its mouth and nostrils each line and contour precise in its nature, portraying the skill of a master at work, here was carved the head of noble beauty. Feeling every curve and texture of the wood the old man's hands tremble as he caresses his new creation, his eyes pass over each part of the grain lined wood with compassion and love like a father as he witnesses the birth of a new born child. His days' work was done Charlie had to rest for if he continued his efforts his energy would be spent, he would not be able to continue another day.

Though very exhausted the tired the old man returned his tools back to their place on the wall, swept and tidied his work space ready for his next day's efforts. Standing up slowly he grabs hold of the workbench, kneels upon the clean concrete floor, looks up to his God then crosses himself, saying a little prayer of thanks returns back to the cottage to rest after his long hard day's work
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

BE STRONG

Charlie was feeling very tired, he did not feel up to working on the gift he was making for Rose, instead he just lay upon the bed staring at the ceiling as dark thoughts began to run through his head, he did not understand why he felt the way he did, his old aching body seemed to be buckling under the weight of his life. He appeared to be drifting into another world at times, it seemed to ease his pain, just rolling over or sitting up in his bed sent shock waves of agonising pain along the length of his old body. How he hated getting old, in his younger days he would of just shrugged it off as he just rolled with the punches, he use to take the blows of life in his stride now the pain he was feeling was like a relentless bully which never seemed to leave him alone, even this old fighter had a hard job beating it on some days. Looking over to his bedside cabinet he reaches out to his old thumbed well-worn Bible, picking it up, flicks the pages in search of the answer to his prayers, holding it tightly to his chest the tears of pain roll down his eyes. Looking up to the heavens he asks his maker for deliverance from his unbearable anguish , to ease his troubled mind, to give him the will to carry on but most of all the strength just to make it through another day.

The loud bang of the window frame hitting the bedroom wall and distracts his attention from the good book, followed by a sudden chilly blast of cold air rushing into the bedroom. Flying in through the open window a little robin perched upon the oak wardrobe chirping with excitement, it flapped its' tiny wings and flew down onto the brass bed knob at the end of the brass metal framed bed. Skipping across the well-padded handmade quilt Rosetta had made, stands up straight, chirping out loudly announcing its noisy presence in the room, hopping along the bed, moves across the striped pillow case then flies off out of the open window. Charlie looked across to the open window, shuffling his aching body to the edge of the bed he sits upright, rubbing his puzzled head as the window begins to slowly close on its own, then hitting the wall, loudly bangs open again, the lead flexing as the diamond cut panes hold firmly together in the old oak window frames. Feeling a cold shiver run all the way up the length his spine the sound of a gentle female voice reverberates around the room and whispers, "Be strong Charlie", pauses for a moment then whispers again, "Be strong", the gentle voice slowly dissipates into the air, the window quietly shuts on its' own as if a comforting presence had just left the room. "Well, I never did", he muttered to himself, placing the bible to his dry lips, kisses it and thanks his maker for the message he had just received.

Stretching his arms out in a happier frame of mind, Charlie begins to do a little gentle exercise, moving his arms up and down then swings them back and forth, breaths in heavily then breaths out again, each movement slowly releasing his stiff aching joints. Looking across to the large brass alarm clock on his bedside table realises the time and forces himself out of bed to get dressed to face another day.

Feeling a sudden renewal of energy and alertness he walks into the bathroom, turning on the wash basin tap looks into the bathroom mirror with a broad knowing smile upon his face as if he had just been told a secret and only he knew what it was. Smiling, he takes his shaving brush out of the shaving cup and applies a huge dollop of shaving cream over the grey stubble covering his wrinkled old skin, Charlie had begun to let his appearance slip a bit just the action of shaving himself had become a bit of an effort, a chores these past days. Wiping away the steam from the mirror with his hand he picks up the vintage brass razor and slowly draws the new blade across his nine o'clock shadow revealing the man he used to be, splashing his face with cold water dries himself with a clean hand towel, feeling invigorated and ready to start another day Charlie sets off to his garden shed to make good on his promise to Rose by finishing what he had started.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE FAIRY RING

Walking slowly along the garden path Charlie stopped mid stride and looked around the garden, he felt something tickle the back of his neck, it seemed a little odd as nothing appeared to be there. Putting it down to the gentle breeze on his neck he ignored it, continuing on his way along the gravel path, taking in the fresh country air blowing across the open fields. Making his way passed the apple trees he noticed the many windfalls strewn across the orchard, Charlie thought to himself, "What a waste", as he imagined rows of uneaten apple pies lying upon the floor. When he owned the bakery Rosetta would never let the apples go to waste, she and Rose use to collect the windfalls of the ground and place them all on big wooden trays from the bakery, leaving them outside on the pavement with a sign saying, "Free Apples", many passers-by use to take up the kind offer but even so they still came into the bakery and purchased one of the tastiest apple pies in the village. Charlie felt guilty as he looked down at the rotting maggot infested apples; he was just so tired at times his energy was spent just working on the rocking horse some days, never leaving much time for gardening and the like. Time had really taken its toll on his body, nothing was easy anymore, just getting up in the mornings had become an effort; he never gave up on anything even at his age, a little pottering about in the garden and a little tidying up was the best he could do at times. All Charlie had to do was mention his plight to Ritchie and nearly all the village would dig in and help but it was his garden and his life, he wanted to keep it that way, he really was a stubborn old sod, he was just too independent for his own good at times.

Looking across the orchard Charlie could see a dark shadow moving across the long grass disappearing behind a tree at the far end of the garden, his curiosity was stirred following in its' direction he brushed away the low hanging branches of an apple tree as he walked slowly towards the giggling sound of a little girl at the end of the garden. Peering around the gnarled apple tree, Charlie watched at a distance as Rose sat inside a fairy ring of toadstools singing and humming, playing with a chain of white daisies in her hands totally unaware of her grandfathers' presence. Getting up daintily from the ground Rose placed the flower garland in her hair and skipped happily off across the orchard without a care in the world, vanishing into the bushes, leaving behind one white daisy in the centre of the fairy ring. Moving away from the apple tree Charlie walked slowly towards the magic circle, he knew the myth about violating a fairy ring so he made sure when he eventually managed to crouch down he stood just outside the circle, after all, he didn't want to enter the realm of the fairies and become invisible or partake in the fairies dance of death did he and as for going mad, well that was already very questionable, sometimes in his head he often thought he was already living in the land of the fairies so he didn't need any assistant getting there, it appeared his mind already was. Leaning into the circle he picked up the little trinket Rose had left behind, holding the daisy up into the air it seemed to have a strange radiant glow about it unlike any flower he had ever seen before, placing it behind his ear he set off in search of his granddaughter Rose. Cutting through the gap in the broken fence, Charlie stepped onto the lawn, sitting next to the Bird girl fountain was Rose drawing circles in the water with her finger, Charlie called out across the garden, "Rose", smiling her grandfather made his way towards her, taking the daisy from his ear he looked down at it for a second and admired its glowing radiant beauty, looking up from the little treasure he had found, it appeared Rose had vanished into thin air, she was gone and was nowhere to be seen.

Sitting down on the edge of the pond, Charlie removed the red polka dot scarf from around his neck and wiped the heavy sweat off his brow, taking in a deep breath rested for a while looked up and scanned the garden in search of his mischievous granddaughter, "Playing games with me again are you Rose", he said to himself as he tied the damp scarf back around his neck. Standing up slowly he removed his glasses, placed them to his mouth , huffed on the glass, cleaning of the moisture with the back of his white shirt sleeve, hooked them back on to his nose hoping to get a clearer view of things. "Rose you're winding me up, you little imp, I'm too old for this lark", he glimpsed something disappearing around the corner of the cottage. Turning the corner Charlie could see a garland of fresh white daisies hanging from a wooden cross at the edge of the garden under a Japanese Maple tree, Charlie made his way towards it, scribed upon it in big bold letters the name, "CHALKY", it marked the place the family cat was buried so many years ago, Rose had buried her there in a wooden casket Charlie had made placing inside the casket a single white daisy and said a little prayer, every year since the cat died Rose would make a daisy chain and place it upon the cross in the cats memory. Taking out his fob watch, Charlie checked the date, looking a little shaken he said, "I'll be damned", it just happened to be the anniversary of Chalkys' passing, Charlie pauses in thought, resting upon his knees Charlie removed the daisy from his ear and placed it upon the ground, saying a little prayer in memory of the beloved cat. Getting up from his haunches, Charlie checks around the orchard and the garden one more time in search of his mischievous granddaughter Rose, eventually deciding to give up the ghost the confused old man makes his way back to the garden shed and continues to fulfil the promise he had made to Rose.

The Rocking horse was coming to its final stages, it was everything he had hoped it would be, the fine detail had been done, basically all that was left to make was the leather work mane and tail, something Charlie had been looking forward to ever since he had finished the beautiful dappled paintwork, the artwork was so well done the Rocking horse almost appeared to be alive and that was even before he had set in place a pair of very realistic glass eyes. The mane and tail he wanted to make would be very long almost touching the floor, made from some of the finest horse hair; Charlie wanted to use many different shades of grey together, adding a little bit of black hair to the mix which would give the Rocking horse a more natural look. Collecting the horse hair from Mrs Bulmer's stable yard was the only time in his life that obstinate Charlie had asked anyone for assistance in doing something, he was so determined to finish Roses gift, and it seemed he would have stopped at nothing to complete it. Charlie arrived at the stable yard and asked if Mrs Bulmer could help him out with regards to purchasing some horse hair for his Rocking Horse project, she was more than happy to lend a helping hand to the likeable old man. All the students rallied around to help him, with so many ponies to choose from Charlie was like a child in a candy store, Mrs Bulmer kept all the stable lads and lasses very busy cutting and grooming their ponies hair by the end of the morning he had more horse hair than he possibly wish for to complete the job. Mrs Bulmer called Charlie into her office and told him she had contacted Mary Meakin by Email some time ago about his rocking horse project and a parcel had arrived from Australia for him. Charlie seemed very surprised that Mrs Bulmer had told anyone about what he was up to and even more surprised that the Meakins had sent him a parcel all the way from Australia, Charlie watched on in quiet anticipation as Mrs Bulmer opened up a large cardboard box, she took out a custom made leather saddle and placed it on the top of her office desk, "Only the best for you Mr Dapple, Giles father made it just for you I hope you like and fits O.K.".

Charlie took in a very deep breath as he noticed embossed around the edge were two words, "Rose Dapple", pinned to the red saddle cloth was the gold Georg Jensen broach Charlie had given Giles when he lived at the Meakin home, overwhelmed Charlie cried out, "Rose" holding him tightly in her comforting arms she whispered, "I know Charlie, I know" holding him until his tears relented. After a long chat and a few more words of comfort Charlie placed the horsehair into the box his gift had arrived in then picked it up, following Mrs Bulmer as she carried the saddle all the way to his car. Charlie opened up the large boot of his vintage Sunbeam Talbot, took the box of treasure and placed it inside, closing the boot lid with a loud clunk. Climbing slowly inside the car Charlie sat down on the well-padded drivers' seat and started the engine. Tapping the window on the driver's side Mrs Bulmer retrieved a red, 1st place rosette from out of her pocket and pinned it to his lapel saying, "Charlie this is for your Rocking Horse I'm sure it will be a winner, just like you". Offering up a ridiculously large wad of cash to Mrs Bulmer out of the window for the horse hair, she looks at him, refusing point blank to take it and tried to give it back to him, reluctantly taking it back Charlie says his very final goodbyes with a very grateful smile on his face he drove off down towards the exit, held the wad of cash out of the drivers' window and released it leaving a trail of £50 notes blowing in the wind behind him. Mrs Bulmer looked down the drive with a very worrying look on her face and ran off towards Charlie's car shouting, "Stop, Stop, Charlie stop", looking in the rear view mirror he imagined Rose sitting in the back seat then said smiling to himself, "We don't need any more do we Rose". Driving slowly along the country lanes he took his time, enjoying all the scenery along the way, taking in each breath of the fresh country air as if it would be the very last journey he would ever make in his life. Passing all his old haunts Charlie remembered many happy times he had as a child, he knew in his heart his life had been a very purposeful one, he had been a good man a decent human being, he had lived a complete full life with no regrets, bar one and soon he would make good on his promise to Rose putting his whole world to rights. Charlie thought a lot about his own demise he often wondered what his epitaph would be, the most appropriate he could think of was, "Here lays Charlie Dapple, Gardener of Eden Forever".

Nodding his head he smiled to himself saying, "Perfect", reaching the brow of the hill he looked down into the valley noticing in the distance an old rusty sign sticking up out of the bushes, saying, "Dead Mans' Lake", bringing back the sweet memories of his childhood when he fell for the love of his life, Rosetta. Cruising along the open road he took the long sweeping bend into the village, passing his old school he slowed down and brought his hand up to his forehead then saluted his past, acknowledging his now long lost childhood. Approaching the Tandoori restaurant which was once Dapples bakery, he wiped the tears from his eyes then proceeded on his way to the church yard with a heavy heart. Parking up his car he stepped out onto the gravel drive and made his way to the cemetery up the long tunnel of trees, the summer sun shone brightly, creating a golden glow as the light broke through the open foliage casting dappled shadows upon the ground before him. The hairs on Charlie's neck stood up as Charlie approached the final resting place of all the ones he held so dear, ignoring his pain, climbs down respectfully onto his knees he removed the red winners rosette from his pocket, kissed it and placed it inside one of the bowls of the replica, "Bird girl" statue, placing his hands together said a silent prayer. The leaves began to rustle in the trees, the bows began to creak and the wind began to blow as a haunting voice whispered out of the darkness, "Destiny, Destiny", the rosette started to quiver slightly in the breeze, slowly rising up into the air, it began turning in a gentle circle as the bird girl statue began to glow beneath it. Hovering high above Charlie's head he watched in amazement as the rosette began to pulse a radiating golden light then shot off at speed and took flight into the bushes before blinking out in the dark shadows. Charlie seemed shell shocked and dumfounded by what he had just witnessed, shaking Charlie pulled himself up from his knees, feeling rather light headed and disorientated, taking in a deep breath he composed himself, said his final respectful goodbye then made his way back to the car. Opening the door he looked around the cemetery one more time then climbed into the drivers' seat, disturbed by what he had seen he stared over the steering wheel confused, his mind was in a state of disbelief. Turning the ignition key the reliable engine purred into life, Charlie released the handbrake and drove off down the long drive to the exit as he watched the family monument disappear in his rear view mirror, edging his way out of the churchyard onto the main road Charlie headed home leaving all his past happy memories behind him. Driving passed the village Post Office Charlie stopped the car and popped in to see if a parcel he was waiting for had arrived, Ritchie the postman checked around the sorting office, looking thoroughly through all the hessian parcel sacks and the wire racking, finding nothing at all addressed to Charlie, "Sorry Charlie, nothing for you today, I will bring it round as soon as it arrives", Shrugging his shoulders despondently Charlie snapped, "Hope it comes 1st post tomorrow it's for Roses' birthday". Ritchie looked puzzled at Charlie's unusual abrupt attitude as the old man looked away with a very disappointed angry look on his face and slammed the Post office door loudly behind him. Back at the cottage Charlie parked up his car , removed the precious gifts he had received from Mrs Bulmer, carrying the cardboard box along the gravel path, he stopped and rested a while to catch his breath then picked up the box , made his way back to the garden shed. Placing the box on his workbench he sat and took another breather, deciding to make himself a drink he headed back to the cottage to make himself a fresh pot of his favourite brew, feeling more relaxed Charlie finished off his second cup of cha and steadily made his way back to his garden shed, just as he put the key into the lock he looked down and noticed something wedged up against the shed door.

Crouching down he realised it was the prize winning rosette Mrs Bulmer had given him, the same one which did a vanishing trick in the churchyard, picking it up Charlie could not understand how the hell it had got there, it appeared everything in his life was getting weirder and weirder by the second. Stepping inside Charlie made his way towards the workbench, walking over to the rocking horse he put the rosette dead centre of where the martingale would eventually be with a piece of old tape, "That's where you belong", patting the rosette he stood back hesitantly and admired the beautiful gift he was given by Mrs Bulmer, eventually realising nothing miraculous was going to happen, he focused his mind and got back to the task in hand. Picking up the wooden handled leather cutter off the workbench he removed the old blade , replaced it with a new one, fine leather deserves a sharp edge , if he was going to do the job he would do it right from start to finish. Charlie hated traditional nailed on rocking horse tack, he thought the nails ruined the wood of the horse and in a way it was true, brass tacks always left horrible scars, admittedly they were only seen when the rocking horse was being repaired or refurbished but the fact was they left nasty holes in the body of the horse, it was one thing he would not tolerate, holes in his beautiful wood, to him it would of been like sacrilege Rose deserved the very best and that was exactly what she would have for her birthday. Today tradition went out the window as Charlie decided only a real adjustable bridle and martingale would do, his mind was set as he began the task by removing his leather belt and braces to add his own personal touch. Charlie was quite often questioned and teased about wearing his wide belt with his wide braces, people always thought it was rather eccentric, in some ways it was, even Charlie was unsure why he wore them together, after all they both did the same job didn't they. The years of wear and tear had made the leather very supple, ideal for cutting up to make the bridle and martingale; it would give the Rocking horse a very personal touch from her loving grandfather.

Charlie felt like the weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders as he began work on the final stages of his secret gift, cutting the leather of his wide braces into four strips he cut out the reins, head piece, noseband and brow brand laying them on his workbench, though slightly faded the aged leather had a very unique colour to it, Charlie smiled proudly to himself, they say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, well in Charlie's case he could teach anyone something new no matter how old he was, he still had a few tricks up his canny old sleeve even at his ripe old age of 84 . Charlie removed his belt from his now very tiny waist, pulling out a length of rough gardening twine he had hanging on a hook he threaded it through the belt loops of his trousers, "That'll do the job", Charlie said, laughing at his make shift belt. Picking up the leather belt he cut off the buckle with his razor cutter and placed the buckle on the table, then trimmed the other end of the leather, adjusting the width of the leather cutter he gently pushed it through inch by steady inch, ending up with two perfect lengths ideal for his adjustable martingale. Cutting the first piece into two for the neck strap, he hole-punched the ends, folded one end, fastening it with a brass rivet the other end he attached a brass roller buckle and folded it, he did the same the other side. One thing Charlie had always loved from a lad was the smell of leather and wood, it all started when he use to watch his father working on the carousel ride during his time in the traveling circus, being born into a circus family had made Charlie the hardworking man he had become. His father was part of the circus hierarchy, placing himself in charge of the carousel ride, he had maintained it all his working life, he was always a hands on kind of person, rather being buried up to his neck in paperwork in the office he chose to get his hands dirty.

Little Charlie could watch his father for hours repairing and painting the beautiful carousel horses, often as a child his father used him as a gopher to carry the lighter bits and pieces to and fro from the transporter after the circus had moved on to another venue. Eventually as Charlie's grew up his hobby revolved around leather and wood he had learned basically everything to do with horses of all kinds, from making tack to repairing the wooden carousel horses, he knew it all, his father had taught him well, all he had learned over the years had kept him in good stead for the rest of his life. When Charlie's father retired he had become a very wealthy man, his grandfather had left the Circus to him, the whole kit and caboodle as the years went on his father became tired of Circus life with all the travelling and the like so he sold up, bought a huge plot of land, becoming the owner of Dapples bakery eventually settling down in the village were young Charlie went to school and met his wife to be Rosetta. The day his father passed away Charlie was left the family business, so he continued his life as a baker, it appeared that anything his father had done in the past Charlie had the ability to learn, so he continued in his fathers' footsteps. Charlie became so engrossed in his work at times he often overlooked important things, it was never intentional, he was a workaholic, and he never did anything by halves. He wanted the memory of his father kept alive by keeping the good reputation the bakery had, so he worked long hours and spent most of his time trying to keep it that way. His only regret was the unfulfilled promise he had made to Rose, not having enough spare time in the day put paid to that, with early morning starts and late nights, his work at the bakery seemed to overrule everything he did. He knew some decisions he had made in the past were irreversible, it seemed too much water had passed under the bridge for him to change the decisions he had made but the promise of the Rocking horse was something he had to put right even if it killed him.

Folding the leather around the brass bit ring, he pushed the rivet through the punched hole, sealing it by hitting the end of the brass cap rivet tightly together with one hit from his ball pane hammer as the loud bang echoed around the shed completing the final stage of the leather bridle. Taking out his pocket watch he unhooked the gold fob chain, removing the gold key winder and put the watch back into his waistcoat pocket. Holding the gold chain across the Rocking horses' mouth he gauged the width of the mouth and cut the fob chain to length. Attaching the gold chain to the two brass bit rings Charlie smiled broadly, holding up the bridle to admire his handy work. Taking the horse hair he selected all the shades he wanted for the tail and bound them with thin twine, gluing them into the pre-cut hole made with his hand drill, weaving the mane together onto a piece of hole punched leather, he attached to into long slot he chiselled at the back of the horses neck and glued it firmly into place with a piece of contoured wood, finishing it all off with a thorough soapy wash and a tidy trim, he brushed the mane and tail neatly into place. All that was left was to dress the Rocking horse in all its' finery, picking up the saddle Charlie crossed his fingers, hoping it would fit as he nervously put it on top of the rocking horses red saddle cloth, adjusting and pulling the leather girth strap around its wide tummy he threaded the leather strap through the brass roller buckle, fastening it securely as Charlie gave out a great sigh of relief as he realised it was a perfect fit, sliding the bridle over the horse's nose he placed the gold bit in its mouth and pulling the bridle gently up over the ears fastened it all into place. Removing the red rosette Charlie slipped the martingale over the Rocking horses head with ease, returning the rosette to its rightful place all fitted into place exactly how he had planned from the very start. Picking up a soft brush and a hair dryer from the workbench he began brushing, drying the mane with a gentle heat as he watched the multi coloured greys of the horse hair fall into place.

Charlie began to feel a tingling sensation run from his neck to his spine, realising his work was now done, his promise to Rose was almost fulfilled as his heart began to race the adrenaline took his endorphins into overdrive. Holding his hands to his chest Charlie became overwhelmed, backing away from the Rocking horse, his legs began to tremble and gave way, holding on tightly to the workbench to support himself he stood in wonder and admired the beauty of his own creation only to realise that the most important part was missing. Charlie had put his faith in Ritchie and the Royal Mail; he just hoped that the final piece could be delivered in time for Roses' birthday tomorrow, now only time would tell.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE FINAL JOURNEY

Charlie walked slowly along the garden path whistling, "Happy birthday to you", he stopped and stood with both hands in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels, looking up into the azure blue sky, taking in deep breaths of fresh air, enjoying the moment as he looked at his world dressed in all its' flowering glory and digested it in every fine detail. Breathing in the sweet smells of summer the old man savoured every intense moment, closing his eyes he breathed in deeply taking in the strong perfumed scented air, feeling the gentle breeze upon his skin, Charlie sighed a very heavy sigh. Standing with a contented smile upon his face lost in a rare moment of complete clarity he moved his hand up to his waistcoat pocket, placed it inside and retrieved his gold pocket watch then checked out the time, it was twelve o'clock and the sun was high in the glorious summer sky. Charlie stopped whistling and looked down at Rose captivated by her simple pleasure, she stroked her hand gently across the water in the pond as the golden carp became attracted to the ripples of the water, and they swam majestically towards her finger. Rose smiled as one of the fish began to nudge her finger tip, making strange squirting sounds with its' pouting mouth as its' thick white rubbery lips searched for something to eat. The iridescent silver and gold fish began to nibble her fingers creating little streams of air bubbles, Rose began to giggle, the more it tickled the more she laughed, stirring her finger in a circular motion, the fish followed every movement it made.

Closing his eyes the old man felt the heat of the midday sun upon his face, lost in the moment as he bathed in the intense warm sensation, listening to the sounds of nature all around him, enjoying a very simple pleasure like he had always done. Even though Charlie was now suffering from the cancer buried deep inside his frail old aching body, he had always known as a child that life was a very precious gift, one he had never taken for granted and he lived each day as if it was his last. Charlie opened his eyes, watching as the fish followed the strange hypnotic golden glow from Rose's fingertip made in the water, attracted to it like the lure on the end of fisherman's hook. Slipping both her hands under the water Rose gently lifts one of the fish up out of the water and takes a closer look at the living jewel she held gently within her now glowing hands. Charlie was mesmerised like a child by its beauty as the sun's ray's played along the scales of the golden carps round fat body, shimmering like a diamond, catching the sun and reflecting its light back into Charlie's watery eyes, like a mirror bringing light into his world. Rose gently returned the fish back into the water and watched as it swam slowly away into the deep shadows beneath the water lilies then disappeared.

A tiny robin flew into the garden; it paused for a second, flapped its wings then it flew onto the back of Rose's glowing hand, on one of its legs was a loose fitting golden band, Charlie looked on enjoying the spectacle of it all as the robin began to peck at the ring as if it was trying to remove it from its leg, Rose gently wiggled the band over the robins foot and removed it, the robin flew off heading along the gravel pathway towards her Grandad`s shed and landed on the apex of the roof.

Charlie stood relaxed with his arms crossed, "Rose, I'm sorry to spoil your fun but it's time for us to go", Rose coyly walked over towards him with her hands behind her back, "Open your hand Grandad, I have something for you", reaching out towards his old wrinkled hand, Rose placed the gold band, upon his palm, clapping her hands together with excitement in her eyes she said, "Its' for you Grandad", Looking down at the trinket in his hand Charlie recognised the gold wedding band, he staggered down to his knees and cried out as he read the sincere words engraved upon it "I love you Rosetta," he held it tightly to his aching heart.

Stepping closely towards him Rose lifts up his head; the face of an angel looks upon him with the eyes of innocents, she wraps her loving arms around his neck and comforts him. Rose looks Charlie in the eye smiling, moves a little closer, cups her hand and whispers into his ear, "She's waiting for you grandad". Rose looks down into his tear filled eyes, full of compassion she kisses the tears from his face, Charlie gets up from his knees with a puzzled expression on his face, taking her confused grandfather by the hand, Rose leads him along the gravel path towards the garden shed, she looks at him with a knowing look on her face as if she has a secret to tell. Swarms of butterflies dance among the blossoms and blooms, flower heads bow in the summer breeze as flocks of birds fly down from the overhanging branches of the trees and gather along the garden path, ceremoniously singing in celebration; it was as if they were all saying a last good bye to their old friend Charlie Dapple as he was led down the garden path by the hand of his guardian angel Rose Dapple.

The robin sat perched on top of an old wooden spade handle, the wood bleached by the sun, worn down over time and shaped by the hand of the old man who once used it. This simple tool had turned the hardened clay to rich dark brown soil over many, many years of toil and the hard labour of a very devoted man. The robin looked inquisitively as the old man approached the garden shed, the little bird flitting from the garden spade onto an old dented galvanised watering can, the sun reflecting off the brass perforated spout once used to drench the thirst of many young garden plants, all grown from seed, nurtured and placed in abundance in the rich fertilised earth by hands of the apprentice gardener of Eden. The robin sang out loudly as if welcoming the old man after a long journey, yes it had been a long one, here stood a man of some eighty odd years, a dedicated father, husband and grandfather, the years he had lived etched deep upon his aged face. Every line and wrinkle earned and paid for through the experience of his life, a devoted man, who loved all he had lost with such a passion that no matter what he could never let go of their memory. His devotion to his family had taken him on a journey of life, now he had almost seen it through to the end; he was in touching distance of his whole life's reward. Grandad crouched down upon his haunches and smiled at the chirpy little chap as it began singing sweetly pacing around on the top of the watering can in a mechanical fashion, like a clockwork toy. Charlie opened his hand and called it towards him; the robin acknowledged his call landing upon his upturned palm, Charlie stood up slowly, keeping his hand steady so as not to frighten the playful robin, placing his free hand into his pocket he pulled out the big black shed key and placed it into the well-worn keyhole, turning the key, the tumblers fell into place and the lock clicked open, grabbing the door handle firmly in his hand pulled the shed door open.

The robin looked up, flapped its wings and flew out of his hand into the shed, landing on an oak cross beam high up in the apex of the roof, Charlie looked over his shoulder at Rose; she seemed to be very quiet and very anxious as if waiting for a cue, just waiting in quiet anticipation of the events to come. Dipping inside his waistcoat pocket, he finds his gold pocket watch, takes a small golden key off his short fob chain and proceeds to wind up the watch, turning the key gently, each turn adding moments of time to the musical mechanism, "The time has come Rose", Charlie winked at her, his old blue eyes seemed to glint as the corners of his eyes wrinkled into a knowing smile from behind his gold rimmed glasses. Removing the key from the watch he returns it to its' rightful place on the fob chain and places it back in his waist coat pocket smiling once more at his granddaughter Rose.

The quiet moment was disturbed by the loud banging of the shed door behind them as a sudden gust of wind appeared from out of nowhere, rattling the rusty chains of the porch swing seat as it began to move gently in the breeze, the leaves in the hawthorn bush began to rustle as a whispering, haunting sound filled the air, "Destiny", Charlie held his hand to his ear and listened intently, the voice whispered again, "Destiny", The wind began to blow harder as the dry leaves lifted from the ground and began to spiral around in wide circles as they followed the garden path menacingly towards where Charlie was standing by the shed door, turning around slowly Charlie felt a cold sensation in his back as a black shadow passed them on the floor followed by a large flock of sparrows, flying only inches above his head, leaving the strong sweet smell of honey suckle behind them. Charlie watched as the flock of birds dissipated into a broken shadow upon the wall and disappeared into thin air, Charlie felt dizzy as he breathed in the heavily scented air, feeling weak at the knees and holding his hand on his heart he shook his head in disbelief, taking in a deep breath he stood up straight composing himself. Holding his wrinkly old hand to his chin Charlie pondered for a while, pausing in thought for a brief moment he looked down at Rose, "I think I will never witness that again Rose", "I know", said Rose with a very knowing look on her face, the banging stopped as abruptly as it started, all became still, the temporary silence broken by a distant whispering voice, "Destiny, Destiny", the haunting words got louder and louder, echoing around the room, calling them as if encouraging them to follow it into the darkness. Charlie retrieved his pocket watch from his pocket and flipped the lid open, triggering Ludwig van Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, breaking up the tension as the calming musical score began to play.

Bright sunlight glared through the shed window, creating a long dark shadow of a rocking horse across the concrete floor, breaking up the gloom as it crept slowly towards where they were standing, intrigued and enticed by the shape cast upon the floor in front of her Rose moved closer and closer to her long awaited destination, Charlie watched each tentative step she made and followed closely behind. A pinprick of light

began to play erratically upon the floor like a laser beam moving in concentric circles blinding Charlie growing brighter with its intensity, Charlie held his hands to his eyes as his vision began to blur, obscured by the intense bright light, he watched Rose as she seemed to fade into nothingness and vanish in front of his very eyes. All became pitch black as the light disappeared, disturbed by the experience and concerned for his granddaughter Charlie called out into the empty black space, "Rose", Charlie called out again, "Rose", there was no answer, he looked around the gloom and stared into the darkness, "Rose, come on, don`t play games, Rose", Charlie said worryingly.

A quiet giggling appeared to be coming from out of the shadows; Charlie looked in the direction the sound was coming from, "Rose", he called out again, as the sound of quiet footsteps moved away from him, following the tantalising sound, it led the disorientated old man towards the old soot blackened tradesmen's bicycle propped up against a stack of old red bricks. Suddenly the peddles of the bicycle began to turn slowly around all on their own as the bicycle fell over and began to shake uncontrollably upon the concrete floor the wheels began spinning around erratically on their rusty dry bearings, screeching out loudly, the stiff rusty old chain made a noisy clanking sound as it turned the wheels, spinning them faster and faster, Charlie crouched down covering his ears from the unbearable ear piercing sound. A loud gentle voice broke the tension, "Destiny" as the possessed bicycle abruptly stopped rattling and the wheels came to a gentle stop, all became silent once more. Feeling rather unnerved by the unsettling experience, Charlie rubbed the back of his neck and smiled a nervous smile, removing his red polka dot scarf he wiped his sweating brow with his trembling hand, "O.K. Rose, you want to play games do you", taking in a deep anxious breath, he began to count to ten in a very slow precise manner, "one; two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, ready or not, here I come".

Taking a wide berth passed the once possessed bicycle, Charlie crept slowly around the blind corner ahead of him upon the concrete floor sat a miniature rocking horse in the shadow of the cross beam of the roof. Moving slowly towards the precious object his heart began to race, the closer he got the faster his heart became. A tingling sensation pulsed in Charlie's arm as he knelt down and picked up the miniature rocking horse from the floor he sat it in the palm of his hand, "Rosetta", Charlie called out quietly, searching his pocket he removed the gold wedding ring, looking at both the treasures in his hand desperately called out again, "Rosetta".

The little red robin flew down from the rafters, singing out loudly as it flapped its wings then flew off through the broken sunlight coming in through the window, it landed on the head of a beautiful rocking horse Charlie had made for Roses birthday. The bird appeared to be coaxing Charlie closer and closer towards it, the shed began to glow with a bright light, growing brighter and brighter until the whole space was completely filled with an intense white light, so bright, it was almost blinding . The atmosphere seemed charged with electricity as the hairs stood up on the back of Charlie's neck, his whole body felt wrapped in a blanket of warmth and comfort as an intense feeling of complete joy and happiness surrounded his very being, a love so pure, so intense it was indescribable.

"Destiny, Destiny", the words began to echo loudly around the room. Holding his hands across his face, Charlie peered through the gaps between his fingers into the intensity of the light, straining his eyes, he could just make out the glowing outline shape of two silhouettes, one stood behind the rocking horse and the other was sat upon it. Adjusting his eyes to the intense light as if a veil had been lifted from the old man's tired eyes, he could just make out the form of a woman and a little girl "Is that you Rosetta? Is that really you?"

Feeling overwhelmed by his emotions, his deep blue eyes begin to well up; reaching out through the misty haze of his tear filled eyes, Charlie calls out her name once more as the tears roll down his cheeks, moving towards him with her arms out stretched to greet him was the radiant image of his long lost wife Rosetta.

Charlie's body reels backwards as a shockwave of intense pain shoots up his left arm, holding the gold band and miniature rocking horse tightly to his chest he watches his whole world disappear before his very eyes, his face contorts in sheer agony and exhaling one final breath his heart stops beating, the light fades from his deep blue eyes and his life expires as he collapses onto the hard concrete floor, leaving the pain of this troubled world behind him.

The angelic figure looks down into Charlie's dead soulless eyes, she lifts his head up gently; placing her hand upon his forehead, a blue wave of healing light begins to pulse from her open palm, placing her lips upon his cheek she kisses away the tears of many years of pain and suffering, Rosetta hugs him tightly and wraps her loving arms around him, pulling him up from his knees, she whispers in his ear, "I missed you Charlie, I really missed you", placing his lips to hers, he kisses the love of his new eternal life. Looking down upon the cancer ridden empty shell upon the floor, he stands witness to his own demise. Charlie feels transformed, reborn as he looks over towards the face of an angel as she rocks back and forth on the wonderful steed Charlie had lovingly created for her, she says joyously,

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRANDAD",

Hugging the rocking horses neck Rose softly whispers in its' ear, "Destiny," gracefully stepping down off the rocking horse she places her hand upon its' head, kissing it on the cheek. Removing a white daisy from behind her ear, Rose kisses it then holds it out in her out stretched hand, she calls out, "Destiny," the flower begins to glow brightly with an intense orange illuminating light, kissing it once more Rose tucks it behind the rocking horses ear and whispers, "Come to me," moving her fingertips slowly down the rocking horses back like a ballet dancer on point, she lifts her translucent hand and pats it gently on the hind quarters, turning on her heels she runs her hand back along the full length of the rocking horses well carved body, gently stroking along its gold glowing mane, it begins to rock gently back and forth as its body begins to pulse in a golden fluorescent light. Rose steps away from the enchanted rocking horse, with slow deliberate steps she moves towards the large doors at the end of the shed, pushing them open slowly she looks back over her shoulder for one last time at the magnificent rocking horse and walks out into the open air. Looking out upon the tranquil landscape, Rose calls out into the distance, "Destiny, Destiny", scanning the horizon, she waits patiently for a sign. The rocking horse began to rock faster and faster as the red rosette began to glow with a pulsing light, breaking the silence; a strange rhythmic sound began to echo in the distance as Rose called out again, "Destiny, Destiny".

Charlie walked over towards his enigmatic creation, crouching down onto his haunches in front of the rocking horse as it rocked gently to a silent stop, detaching the glowing disc from the martingale he looked up and smiled at Rosetta as she stepped forward and picked up a wooden arrow from his work bench placing it in his hand. Taking a piece of garden twine from the workbench he folded the rosette around the arrow, tied it tightly around it's' length. Charlie held the arrow firmly in his grip, smiled at Rosetta, nodding his head, he wrapped the twine tightly around his hand, Rosetta toasted the air with a little silver chalice, calling out loudly, "May the summer never end", youthful and invigorated Charlie ran out into the open field as fast as he could, leaning back, he dug in his heels and released the glowing arrow of light at full force, they watched as it soared like an Eagle into the golden sun. Bolts of electricity crackled through the air, the ground began to shake beneath their feet as a strange distant sound closed in upon them like a runaway train and the wind began to blow. Large dust clouds climbed above the bushes, accompanied by a howling storm of sound, growing louder and louder, the hedgerows began to shake with the powerful force of thundering hooves hitting upon the hard ground, growing louder and louder the closer they came.

Flickering flashes of pure white light pulsed through the long row of trees, like a zoetrope creating the blurred image of a galloping horse as the sound of its heavy hooves came closer and closer disturbing all within its path. Suddenly the sound fades away into the distance, the deathly silence almost deafening by its intensity, the air fills with the strong scent of honey suckle as the quiet tranquillity is disturbed by the splashing sound of hooves walking slowly across the shallow glistening stream, standing in a small spinney of trees, a majestic magnificent steed steps into a halo of bright golden light, the dapple grey vision of beauty rears back onto her hind legs, whinnies out loudly announcing its presence to the celestial world, the free spirit gallops across the open fields with wide open strides, holding her head up high to the heavens Destiny takes to flight on white gossamer wings, finding her way back home to Rose her broken hearts' desire.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THE ATHIEST

Ritchie drove along in a happy frame of mind as he made his way to deliver the parcel Charlie enquired about the previous day he knew it must have been quite important as Charlie seemed unlike his usual self, appearing quite agitated and upset about it not being there. Turning off the main drag he came to the over grown trail leading to Charlie Dapples cottage, low overhanging branches whipped the windscreen of Ritchie's bright red van, the suspension gently began rocking to and fro as the wheels rolled over the bumpy grassy mounds on the narrow track. The radio was playing out some new-fangled band called ALT-J; disturbed by the music he begins fiddling with the radio searching for a less contemporary sound to break the silence. Switching on the windshield wipers to clear the dusty windscreen, Ritchie looks out through the wet muddy slush rolling down the smeared screen, catches a glimpse of something in the corner of his eye. Hitting the breaks hard just missing a Roe Deer as it dashes across his path, the post van swerves down into an overgrown ditch eventually coming to rest hard against the protruding spike of a metal fence post buried in a deep thicket of a Hawthorne bush.

Rubbing his bloodied head he picks up the small brown parcel from the passenger's seat, opens the door and staggers out of the post van in a daze, begins walking down the long gravel path as he watches the deer fade hazily away into a long tunnel of bright light. The light breeze carried the music from the radio into the air as the postman unsteadily made his way along the weed covered path, stepping over the grey dried out dead branches of long neglected shrubs making his way wearily towards the front door now covered in a skeleton like frame of dead honeysuckle and roses. Ritchie, took hold of the brass door knocker, covered in a light bluish green patina created over many years of neglect, he knocked the door, there was no answer, Ritchie, knocked a little harder, making his head throb with pain, feeling dizzy and nauseous he held a hanky over his bloody brow, his head burning with the worst migraine headache he had ever had in his life. Staggering to his feet Ritchie turned around and decided to go to the back of the cottage, following the uneven path to the side entrance, through the glaring bright light along the path he could just work out the shape of a black heavy metal scrolled gate, the Russian vines had grown so vigorously they had covered it, sealing the gate permanently shut with their snake like woody coils. Ritchie placed the parcel on the ground and began to push against the metal bars, putting his weight firmly against the heavy gate, until inch by inch; the seal broke under the force of his strong young body as the rusty metal scraped and screeched against the gravel, eventually giving way to his efforts to open it, rubbing his sore shoulder Ritchie took a deep intake of breath and picked up the parcel he continued to walk around to the back door of the cottage. Ritchie looked through window in urgency as he began to feel unsettled by the uneasy quiet surrounding him, staring into the dingy gloom, shafts of light played upon the drifting dust particles as they floated in the downward draughts coming down from the stone chimney, once a loving, well-kept family home now appeared dirty, empty and soul less.

If old Charlie could only have seen the true reality he lived in, the garden would still be the oasis it once used to be, how people in the village once envied his garden now it had become a derelict overgrown shadow of what it used to be. No matter how often people rallied around to help him, he just got angry and sent them all away with a flea in their ear, he truly was a stubborn old sod at times. Ritchie still did the occasional small errand for him but when it came to his garden, that was out of bounds to everyone, no matter how often help was offered that was Charlie's domain, absolutely no-one was allowed to touch it. It seemed not only was the fire extinguished on that fateful night of the fire when his whole family died at Dapples bakery, so was his life, a flame had died inside him that would never be lit again, it seemed to Ritchie he had not only lost his sanity but also his faith in God, his belief would never be rekindled again his loss had been so great.

Charlie had now become lost in a world of his own, he saw the world in his own way, a world where his late wife and Rose still existed, it seemed in doing so it gave the old man the strength and the courage he required, giving him a reason to carry on, it was his way of not accepting they had gone forever so he would no longer feel alone. Outside Ritchie continued to tap relentlessly at the lead paned glass, his tapping only greeted by complete silence, shouting out again he received no answer to his persistent calls the place was deadly quiet. Cupping his hands around his eyes Ritchie peered in through each window in turn, hoping to find Charlie either sitting in a chair or pacing around the front room as he usually did, he was nowhere to be seen, Ritchie began to feel very uncomfortable about the whole situation as he began to wonder where the old boy actually was. Opening the back door Ritchie stepped inside in search of his old friend Charlie Dapple, the cottage and everything in it was in a complete state of disrepair, the place of so many happy memories had become like a crypt, where one solitary old man dealt with the torment of his inner pain and loss, it became a place where he had taken refuge from the outside world, it was his sanctuary, a prison his memories could not ever escape from, happy memories which were all locked away inside the time capsule of his own mind.

The place was like a time capsule frozen in time, all its' contents had been kept exactly how they used to be, in the front room his wife Rosetta's unfinished knitting was placed upon her favourite chair by the fire place with a large ball of once bright baby pink wool, now a dirty grey dusty colour, pierced by two knitting needles, much like Charlie's heart was the day his family died in the fire. Charlie had placed it there many years ago, just in case Rosetta ever needed it to make something for Rose, now her chair was just a monument to the woman the old man still loved and ached for. Walking up the creaky staircase Ritchie called out in a concerned voice, "Charlie, you there, Charlie", making his way to the landing, Ritchie peered around the shaded corner, his heart skipped a beat as he saw Roses' face staring right back at him from a dark corner, drawing closer he realised it was just a reflection of a photograph in the mirror opposite her open bedroom door. Rose's bedroom was like a shrine, all her pony books, posters and favourite possessions were still in place and her riding clothes lay ready on the bed. There seemed to be an outline of dust drawn on the bedside table in the shape of two lines, maybe a piece of jewellery or a toy, something once sat there, Ritchie didn't really have a clue but it seemed something precious had recently been removed. Looking across the hallway Charlie's bedroom was very sparse and was free of clutter of any kind the only thing which stood out was a wedding photograph sitting on top of a bedside table which was kept immaculately clean, the rest of the room was covered in cobwebs and a thick layer of dust, the air was damp with a strong musky smell which tore at the back of Ritchie's throat. The bed was covered in only one single bed sheet, lying open on the pillow was a very old bible, the spine had been broken to an open page, Matthew 6:9~13. It appeared that Ritchie had been wrong in his thoughts about Charlie, it seemed he had still kept to some parts of his faith, Ritchie was just glad to be an atheist at times, he could not reason why if their truly was an all seeing God, how he could let such a wonderful old man suffer so much, after all? what did he ever do to the world but love it, he may as well of been called Job for all the trials and tribulations the poor old sod had gone through in his life, thought Ritchie.

Feeling concerned as to Charlie's whereabouts, Ritchie walked down the stairs and made his way through to the kitchen, on the windowsill he noticed a small egg cup, upon it was written the name Rose containing one freshly cut daisy, it seemed to have a rather strange glow about it, Ritchie thought that the old boy must still be somewhere about the place, after all someone had gone out of their way to cut the daisy and put it there. Stepping out into the light summer drizzle, Ritchie looked around the neglected, overgrown garden; outside it was as quiet as a cemetery the only sound to be heard was the pitter patter of raindrops on an old tin bath next to the garden shed. It seemed as if no wild life had ever existed there at all, even the garden pond was dried out the only thing in it was a broken sign covered in brambles. Ritchie called out across the garden, "Charlie", no answer came to his call, just an eerie silence, walking around the garden Ritchie passed a crooked wooden cross, the wood was twisted and askew, just held together with a rusty old nail, carved upon it, just one word, "CHALKY", Ritchie choked up a little, touching the deep scar on his face, he recalled the day he had left the little kitten in the orchard at Dapples Bakery, when the family all lived in the village, Ritchie shivered at the thought as his conscience about Freddie Kruger got the better of him, he still felt bad about what he had done all those years ago, it all seemed so long ago. He realised in time that the Dapples had come to love that cat far better than he ever could of done, especially with the attitude the cat had towards him in those days after all he still had the terrible scars to prove it, getting up from his knees he walked away from Chalkys grave happy in the knowledge that he had done the right thing after all.

Through the pitter patter of raindrops Ritchie could hear a faint tinkling sound of some kind of mechanical tune, somewhat like a musical box, it appeared to be coming from the old garden shed, drawing closer to the sound it became a little clearer, the shed door was slightly ajar, just letting in a small shaft of very bright sunlight, Ritchie grabbed hold of the wooden door and pushed it open on its rusty creaking hinges, stepping slowly inside the workshop, the sacred place Charlie had spent so many hours of his time over the years. Ritchie stopped in his tracks and looked around in a state of shock, the place was absolutely immaculate, every tool was hung in its' own designated space, every shelf was tidy, Charlie had kept his workspace absolutely pristine, it was like a carpenters dream. It seemed Charlie must have taken pains to keep it looking the way it was, unlike Ritchie, his shed stunk of fish bait, damp wet keep nets and fishing gear it was a junkyard for all his unfinished Mame arcade, pinball machine projects, the only place he kept his tools was inside a couple of large old rusty buckets, Charlie's workshop certainly put his dirty old pit to shame. The only thing that seemed out of place was the stack of smoke damaged red bricks, it seemed to be the only reminder Charlie had kept from the old days, when he owned, Dapples Bakery in the village why Charlie kept the bricks from the fire he could not understand it was beyond his comprehension. Passing the brick monument to Charlie's past, Ritchie noticed the soot covered tradesman's bicycle lying upon the floor, warming his heart it made him smile to see part of his past life laying there before him, standing it up respectfully he rested it against the pile of bricks, he remembered his childhood days when he use to ride it as a kid to earn his pocket money. Ringing the rusty old bell, Ritchie hoped that Charlie would hear its' poignant ring, the vibrating sound sending dust particles drifting into the air, Ritchie watched as the metallic dust floated off through the rays of light beaming in from the window, following its' path as the sunlight illuminated the sparkling dust as it drifted directly down onto a beautiful wooden rocking horse.

The large life like glass eyes reflected the image of its creator lying upon the floor, Ritchie looked down at the concrete floor where the shadow of the horse fell, lying very still was an old man, his arms outstretched in front of him, in one hand he held a gold open watch, Ritchie stood back in horror as he realized it was old Charlie, his lifeless eyes staring back at him across the empty space. Ritchie felt cold, frozen to the spot with fear and trepidation as he went into a state of shock, as the panic set in; he dropped the parcel breaking it open as it scattered across the hard concrete floor revealing a pair of brass stirrups. Rushing over to his old dear friend he knelt down, wrapping his arms around him, feeling the bones of his cancer ridden body, Ritchie became overwhelmed with emotion and grief, looking deep into Charlie's soulless eyes, he broke down as he rocked him gently cradling his lifeless body in his arms, stroking his dear friends head he said, "I loved you mate, you old sod, oh Charlie", he kissed his forehead and lowered him gently to the floor. Taking off his jacket Ritchie, wiped away his tears, saying his last goodbye he removed Charlie's glasses, closed his eyes and placed his postman's jacket over Charlie's skeletal frame. Picking up the torn parcel Ritchie looked across to Charlie and the unfinished rocking horse, he remembered the previous day when Charlie came to check for an undelivered parcel, now it all made sense, no wonder he was so impatient and distraught, did Charlie really know? Picking up the brown parcel he approached the rocking horse, crouching down he removed the brown paper wrapping, attaching the brass stirrups to the stirrup leathers he tightened the brass roller buckles.

Standing back with a smile on his face Ritchie said, "Its' done Charlie", looking at the beautiful bow rocking horse; he wondered how such a frail old man could have created such an amazing work of art, he suffered with terminal cancer for some considerable time. Ritchie had only found out by chance, on one occasion he had given Charlie a lift to the Church jumble sale, after he had badgered him to get out of the house for a while, on the way to the church hall Charlie confided in him about the cancer, he refused to be hospitalised as he never wanted to see a hospital bed ever again, especially after the fire had destroyed his whole life, no matter what the ailment was, stubborn Charlie decided the doctors could stick chemotherapy treatment where the sun don't shine, he took home medication and morphine instead. Ritchie stared in awe at the bow rocking horse, marvelling with every intricate detail, carved with precision, this was the work of perfectionists with a lifetime of learning and it stood as a testament to Charlie's skill as a master carpenter, a true sculptor but most of all his fighting spirit and perseverance in the face of adversity the pacifist, soldiered on until the very end.

The sound of a bird singing pierced the silence, Ritchie looked up towards the rafters, down out of the shadows flew a tiny robin it rested on the rocking horse, slowly the horse gained momentum, beginning to move gently upon its' bow rockers, back and forth it moved, as if someone was still sitting upon it, the brass stirrups glinted in the sunlight moving with the rhythm of the horse, a shadow of the horse and a little girl was cast upon the floor as the sound of the wooden bow rockers grew louder, echoing loudly around the room. Ritchie looked puzzled as the horse appeared to glow, the tiny robin jumped onto the floor, it hopped towards the gold watch, the room began to glow brighter and brighter, Ritchie fell down onto his knees in sheer disbelief as a hand reached out of nowhere through the piercing light and picked up the gold watch from the floor, looking down on him smiling was Charlie Dapple surrounded by a pulsing white light. Placing the gold watch into Ritchie's' trembling hands he said, "Thank you", placing a white daisy behind Ritchie's ear he disappeared in front of his very eyes. Shaken and dumfounded he got up, stumbling to his feet as he held up the gold watch and opened it, inside was a photograph of Charlie and Rosetta on their wedding day, they looked so happy together, running his finger over the picture inside Ritchie nodded his head smiling, realising it was Charlie's faith in his God and his total belief in being reunited with the love his life Rosetta which had pulled him through, the broken shell of a man laying upon the floor behind him had found strength in his own God to tolerate his pain, it helped him soldier on, now that strength and belief Ritchie could no longer deny. Ritchie held the white daisy in his hands trying to comprehend what he had just witnessed, he realised there truly are things in this world beyond even his own comprehension... Twiddling the white daisy in his hand Ritchie felt a warm tingling feeling in his heart as the flower began to pulse and glow, Charlie had left him a sign of eternal hope, it seemed Ritchie had been touched by something way beyond his own understanding; he would always remember Charlie Dapple in life as a loving father and grandfather to Rose, a devoted husband to Rosetta, a broken man who had renewed his own faith in God to make him whole again and had fulfilled his lifetimes wish to become a gardener of Eden forever.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

SHINE LIKE A DIAMOND GRANDAD

The poignant song by Kate Bush, A Woman's Work plays out on the radio as the old man digests every word. The dappled sunlight of the Japanese maple tree broke through the crossed window pane and played upon the sheets of crisp white paper strewn in a jumbled heap upon the table. The broken lines of a shadow fell upon the writing desk forming a cross upon it, was it a sign from God, the old man hoped it was. Sitting relaxed upon his comfortable chair in the old shed he scratched behind his ear with the tip of his old fountain pen thinking about his final notes on which to finish his very first naïve story, immersed in the sound of an angel's voice, Kate Bush moved him deeply. He always wrote by his own free hand, it felt more tactile and never once did he use a type writer or key board, he had always used the same pen, a green marble 1933 Sheaffer Lifetime fountain pen, which was a gift from his father many years before he sadly died. He enjoyed watching the words flow from the embossed fourteen carat golden nib, as the rich black ink scribed its' way across the white paper. Nothing compared to the feeling of writing freely by hand he felt it was not a mechanical action but a more honest and natural one, much like an artist creates a form upon a canvas. Just the process of renewing the ink gave him pleasure, refilling the pen always reminded him that he must have made some progress and persevered once the ink had run out of the reservoir, it was as if the empty pen was coaxing him onwards saying, "Fill me up, I'm empty".

For a complete novice, it had been a very daunting task he had undertaken as the old man sat pondering in deep thought, searching, racking his brain for a fresh perspective as to which way to go with the words he had often found so hard to find. The journey had been a long arduous one, he so wanted to be sure he had not left any unanswered questions or faults in the direction he had chosen to take along the path to his final conclusion, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle, he hoped everything would fit. He felt a little sad to see it all come to an end, he realised it would probably be the very last time he would ever undertake such a momentous task. It was like watching a child being born into this world for the very first time, once again he felt like the loving father he had always been, too protective to let go of the children he so loved as he watched his toddlers taking their very first tentative steps into this unpredictable world, he just hoped that his new baby would not trip over flat on its face and cry. His only chance was to carry on and complete the journey he had begun, hoping whoever read it would appreciate the time and effort of a poor, naïve, self-educated man to reach out and touch their hearts, finding deep within them the humanity they were all born with. Inside burned many unanswered questions and much doubt as this was only natural on a voyage into uncharted waters, he put his faith in the pen he held in his trigger locked fingers, he had now opened his heart up upon the written page for the whole world to see, he believed in the power of words and the joy and hope they could bring, just to realise that one day his journey was shared with people from all walks of life and his humble attempt to communicate with the hearts and minds of many people would one day come to fruition.

A blank sheet of paper to an uneducated man like him was quite a daunting thing to look at, for anyone for that matter, yet a solitary journey had been made and was almost completed; often it was very difficult to envision the words upon the empty page on so many occasions, how easy it would have been just to give up and throw it all away like he had always done in the past, just trash his dreams like garbage, like all his artwork, poems and songs he once created over many years. After all nobody was holding a whip to force him on to complete it, there was no deadline being imposed by some literary agent. It was in his nature to create something from nothing like he had always done in the past which kept his nose to the grindstone. The flame and passion for writing was now lit and he would not give up on the desire which had lived hidden so deep within him for a lifetime until the fire had burned itself out, extinguished and died inside him.

He had learned rather late in life that only he could make things happen, early mornings as early as four o'clock and sleepless nights, deep thoughts of a story line filled his head, thoughts of where and when, how and who or what and if, nothing seemed to make sense at the time, in his troubled haze he wondered if it ever really would. A journey into the twilight zone had begun as the words began to ricochet around his brain, like a chrome silver pinball hitting a bumper, trying to score points. The game was over now, he just hoped the pinball machine hit the highest maximum score rather than crashing full tilt and flashing a red light, that decision had not been made yet, only time would decide that. Nothing would change the path it had taken, it was now over, completed and finished a manuscript of over 77000 plus words upon the written page, a monumental quest undertaken by a naïve virgin writer, a captain of his own endeavour setting sail on his own uncharted literary sea, would the sirens call him onto the rocks of imminent editorial disaster or would he sail into a safe port and be welcomed with open arms by the readership. Nothing had been so daunting in his lifetime, he was now opening up his heart to the literary world he just hoped they would not break it; his self-doubt, his fear and low self-esteem had bullied him all his life, it had taken him sixty years to face his own fears and find the courage to fulfil his life's dream, two years later a book of words was now written and completed.

It told the story of a disabled young girl and her pony, a first love, memories of the hot summer days of a long lost childhood but most of all the life of a devastated, drug induced dying man coming to terms with the loss of his deceased family, fighting through all his pain to put his world to rights and making good on a broken promise. The writer wanted to touch the hearts and minds of people and tried to give a little spiritual hope to those who had once loved and lost someone dear to them. Experience life from an unknown past, to feel the emotions of a new born love in a world of innocence and naivety, to imagine the warmth of long hot summer days, of nature in its glory and its' fury but most of all the ability to survive in the depths of adversity. In reality the world the author once knew had changed forever, times had changed dramatically, he was now a dinosaur in a modern age soon he too would go the same way as the Dodo, his time on planet earth was slowly coming to an end and a promise he had once made to himself had not yet been fulfilled until he made his final mark.

At last the poor boy from the tough council estate had taken off the shackles of insecurity and self-consciousness which had held him back for a lifetime, like the last flower of summer he had bloomed at last, finding a new perspective, he cast off all self-doubt, spread his wings he learned to fly as free as an eagle towards a new horizon, knowing in his heart, he had been true to himself and completed his own journey of self-discovery.

Taking a silver piece of cigarette paper from the table he settles into his comfy chair where he begins to wrap the paper around his finger to form a chalice, screws it up tightly into a small ball and twiddles it between his forefinger and thumb, something his own father use to do to take his mind of his troubles during the war. Smiling like a contented child he places the silver ball next to the wedding photograph sitting on the table, his eyes become moist, blurring the precious image before him, kissing his fingertips he placed his palm upon the picture blessing his parent's memory. Picking up his fountain pen for the very last time, breathes in deeply, sighs a very heavy sigh of relief then draws a thick black line through the only words he had ever written upon his bucket list, "WRITE A BOOK".

Charlie picked up his gold watch and checked out the time, realising the party was about to begin, he knelt down upon the small oblong rug and put his hands together in prayer he thanks his god for supporting him through his journey of self-discovery and asked him to bless his family. Standing up he looks down proudly at the paper upon the table, collects all the hand written pages into a tidy bundle tucking them tightly under his arm and smiles as he begins to read the poem "FOOTSTEPS IN THE SAND" saying to himself, "I knew somebody was". Picking up the old wooden flight from the desktop he begins to whistle, twirling the flight like a majorette's baton around his fingers, stepping down the steps he makes his way out into the bright sunshine. A little liver and white cavalier king Charles plays upon the grass, running in circles trying to catch its own tail. "Jade", a voice calls out across the garden, a long raven haired beauty crouches down upon her knees on the lawn, holding a daisy chain in her hands, she slaps her thighs then calls out again to the dog, it stops and turns, barking with excitement, she begins running towards the teenage girl with her tail wagging, eyes wide open and her pink tongue hanging out the side of her mouth, panting. Rose places the garland of white flowers around Jades neck; annoyed the dog begins frantically rolling about trying desperately to remove the floral gift from her neck, Rose looks down at the shredded flowers, shrugs with a disappointed look on her face, picks up a stick and begins playing a game of tug of war with Jade. Catching the smell of barbecued chicken wafting across the garden towards her, Rose gets up off her knees throws the stick into the air and makes her way to the table to join the rest of the Dapple family, Jade turns quickly on her heels then disappears into the hedgerow after the chewed up stick.

The gathering was for Charlie Dapple; it was to celebrate his efforts over the past few years to acknowledge his final achievement of writing his very first book and publishing it himself. Charlie made his way across the lawn, Jade came bounding across the garden to greet him with excited eyes, dragging the heavy stick, her deep breaths betraying her many years. Crouching down on his haunches, Charlie leans forward to greet her and rubs his temple on hers; dropping the stick she begins to lick his face as if he was a new born puppy. Rosetta calls out to him, beckoning him to the large round garden table where all his family were all waiting for his arrival. Waving across the garden he slowly walks towards them; Jade follows him along the path, her eyes transfixed upon the flight he was twirling in his hand with a mischievous look on her face, waiting for Charlie to throw it. As he approaches the happy gathering the whole group rise from their seats like knights at the round table, they all stand up and applaud him as he places the white bundle close to the edge of the mottled glass table top and places the wooden flight on top of the newly finished book and smiles. Feeling choked up and very overwhelmed he scans the table of well-wishers and sits down. Thanking his family for being so supportive, Charlie stands up and bows jokingly and takes a plate of hot barbecued chicken from the hands of his darling wife Rosetta, "Thank you love", she toasts the air with a glass of wine,"May the summer never end", Charlie kisses her on the cheek smiles and tucks in to his meal, enjoying the warm comfy feeling of his close loving family.

Jade follows the smell of the chicken and finds herself a place as near to the table as she could possibly get, Chalky the cat deliberately jumped up on to the table top trying not to be ignored, as Jade sat anxiously waiting for a treat to fall off the table with an expectant look in her eyes. Rose placed some small pieces of chicken in a small bowl, picked up the spoilt cat, placed her on her lap and began to feed her little nibbles one at a time, Jade began to whine out loudly, fidgeting on her haunches she breathed out a heavy sigh, pawing at Roses leg "Can't forget you Jade", Rose said quietly as she broke off a small piece of chicken, offering it up to her beloved Jade.

Jumping up, Jade snatches the piece of chicken out of Roses hand; the greedy dog swallows it whole in one huge gulp without even touching the sides. Rose looks down disgustedly, "Naughty Jade". The dog begins to sulk and starts to whine with a sad look on her face as she stares back at Rose with her big brown almond shaped eyes. Teasing out another piece of chicken Rose breaks it off the bone offering it up to the chastised little dog, excitedly Jade quickly jumps up from her haunches, ignores the tasty treat in Rose's hand and snatches hold of the old wooden flight sitting on top of Charlie's manuscript instead, knocking the loose white pages off of the edge of the glass table top in the process. Jade ran off down the gravel path into the paddock area and hid under the shade of an old weather beaten hay wagon, holding the flight between her paws like a bone from the butcher, licking it with great enthusiasm. Chaos ensued as the wind picked up sending the paper and years of Charlie's hard work flying into the air, the family group rushed about the garden, trying desperately to grab the pages like moon rakers as all the pieces of the manuscript blew away across the lawn, getting caught up into the bushes and hedgerows as they all began panicking in a desperate attempt to catch them.

Charlie was more concerned with his old wooden flight than the manuscript as he marched off after Jade, making his way into the paddock area, he closed the three bar gate behind him got down on his knees and crept as close as he could to the mischievous little terror, crouching down in front of the contented dog she continued licking the wooden flight. Charlie approached her slowly as he coaxed her closer and closer towards him, stroking the white blaze reassuringly Charlie nuzzled her forehead; Jade relaxed and let go as he gently removed his prized procession from her tight grip. Charlie examined the damage of the chewed up cardboard of the 60 year old wooden flight and sighed, "Well at least it's still in one piece", as he tucked it into his back trouser pocket. Smiling Rose climbed over the white railed fence and made her way over towards her dapple grey pony, placed a loose piece of plaited chord over Destiny's head and patted her on the neck, the jealous Destiny nudged Charlie in the small of his back with her nose taking all Charlie's attention away from Jade as she pawed at his leg feeling ignored.

Charlie smiled a big happy smile as he helped Rose climb on board the bare back pony, stroking the magnificent dapple grey he takes hold of the loose chord and leads them both out of the paddock down towards the old dirt track, they both wave to Ritchie the postman as he arrives in his red post van. Rose clicks her heels as Destiny responds with an enthusiastic whinny and takes off at speed, disappearing into the undergrowth of a small spinney of trees. Rosa and Robin stood waving Charlie's manuscript in the air shouting out across to the paddock, "We found em Dad," Jade begins sniffing around the back of Charlie's pocket, wagging her tail, panting with anticipation as Charlie leans back and sends the arrow souring into the air, Jade springs to her feet and rushes off after it. Plucking a white daisy from the grass, Charlie twiddles it in his wrinkly old hand, pondering in deep thought he watches Chalky the cat rubbing her cheek against Ritchie's ankle as the young postman approaches him with a cane fishing rod leaning on his shoulder and a bait box in his hand, with a twinkle in his deep blue eyes and complete sincerity in his voice Charlie looks at Ritchie, smiles and says, "It truly is a wonderful life Ritchie remember to count your blessings for there but for the grace of God go I, believe and you will find your destiny"

THE END

