hoof came down, brushed her calliper, then veered to one side. A dark nose was lowered and two lips tickled. She was closer to the colt than she had been by the drawbridge. She could see the mixed red and white hairs in his diamond. She could smell the hay on his breath and see that the white tissue round his eye which gave him a look of permanent surprise was in fact the colour of mother-of-pearl. She also noticed for the first time the slight overbite, top lip folding over bottom,suggestive of the coltâs rueful dismay at finding himself not quite as everybody had hoped.
She put out her palm. He took a finger between his teeth, more to hold, she felt, than to bite. He seemed shy. Daisy told him about his predecessors, at least those she could remember, and then about Hartslove itself; about Rose, Lily, Garth, Clover and Columbine, Gryffed and Mrs Snipper and the Dead Girl, and their mother, and everything else that was important to her. She did not speak of her father. She did not know what to say about him. The colt seemed quite gripped, and when Daisy moved, moved with her. He did not object when she put her arms round his neck to pull herself up, or when, seeing yesterdayâs sweat still ridged on his coat, she began to pick at it with her fingers. âSkelton should have done this,â she murmured apologetically. After a bit she decided to take off his rug and give him a proper brush. He was too tall for her to reach his back so she tipped the water out of his bucket and used the bucket as a step. A shadow loomed. The horse started backwards, knocking over the bucket and crashing Daisy into the straw.
A scraping of bolts and Skelton seized the horse by the forelock.
âDonât! It was my fault!â Daisy shouted.
Skelton let go of the forelock and pulled Daisy to her feet. âYou shouldnât be in here, missy. Heâs a careless brute.â Skelton fetched a head-collar and tied up The One outside.
âYouâre not going to try the saddle again,â Daisy said quickly.
âNo, Miss Daisy. Not today.â Skelton was running his eyes slowly from the tip of the horseâs ears to the end of his tail.
Daisy could not stop herself. Unpleasant as Skelton was, he knew more about horses than she did. âCould he be a good racehorse?â she asked.
âGood?â Skelton blew on his hands then crossed his arms. âHeâs not much to look at, but heâs got strong limbs and enough space for powerful lungs. So yes, if he buckles down and learns his job, perhaps he could be a good racehorse.â
Daisyâs heart banged. âCould he be The One?â
Skelton cast a crafty glance. âImportant that he is, is it?â
âYouâve seen the âfor saleâ sign,â said Daisy blankly.
âAnd you donât want to move?â Skelton walked round The One, slapping his rump as he went. The horse swished his tail. âDonât you kick me, sonny,â Skelton warned. He returned to Daisy. âIâd have thought you and your sisters would like nothing better than to live in a nice cosy house and have bedrooms that donât leak. This old castleâs had its day. Itâs full of the past, when the futureâs what counts.â
âHartsloveâs our home,â said Daisy stiffly, wondering how Skelton knew about the leaking bedrooms.
Skelton laughed. âPeople move homes every day, missy. Thatâs how the great big world keeps turning.â
âNot our world,â Daisy said.
Skelton sniffed. â
Your
world!â Then he seemed to think the better of his manner. âSee here,â he said in more respectful tones, âhis head and neck, well, theyâre too heavy. Too much muscle hereâ â he slapped the coltâs crest before moving behind â âand not enough here.â He slapped his rump again. âAs I say, heâs got decent enough legs, strong bones and room for