Samphire Song by Jill Hucklesby Read Free Book Online Page A

text:
Guess who’s sleeping in your bed tonight?
    I let Samphire sniff me for several minutes before I try to touch him. His nostrils flare and push at my clothes, my neck, my hair, my face. He makes a strange sound every so often, a cross between a small whinny and a cough. After a while, he lets his head rest nearmine, just a few centimetres away. He watches me with his left eye.
    I move my hand slowly to his neck and run it down towards his chest with a gentle pressure. His back foot stamps and his head shakes. His eye doesn’t leave my face, though. He allows me to repeat the movement. This time, there’s no agitation, just a flickering across his skin, the muscles responding to my touch. His body is taut, though, braced for combat or escape.
    ‘Friends?’ I ask him. He turns his face towards me and flicks his ears back and forth. Without thinking, I scratch the temple between them, just as I do with Rambo, who loves that kind of spoiling. Samphire’s head jerks back. His eyes are suddenly white and fearful. He backs into the corner of the stall, kicking out at the partition, tossing his straggly mane and snorting.
    I’m looking him square in the face, trying to show him I’m not like the other people who have mistreated him. He can trust me. But the huge challenge ahead is beginning to become clear. I hope I’m up to it.I never want to let Samphire down.
    Mum puts her hand on my shoulder. She’s reading my mind again. Her touch is strong, reassuring. It tells me that we’re in this together.
    ‘The best friendships take time to grow,’ she says. ‘And then they last a lifetime.’

Chapter Eleven
    My phone is buzzing and vibrating. It’s a text from Ed:
OMG u bought Shadowfax. Gandalf will b mad. Has been looking everywhere 4 him
.
    Samphire not Shadowfax. Part Arab. Still want to race?
I reply. I think Samphire will beat his plane any day. If Samphire lets me on his back, that is.
    Must attend pilot course first. Says not for beginners on box
comes the response.
    So does mine
I text back.
    I’m sitting in the front of the Land Rover with Sue and we’re pulling into the yard with Samphire in the trailer behind. There’s quite a crowd waiting, including Rachel, the girls who help out on Saturdays and some parents. Mum has beaten us to it and is sitting on a hay bale outside the office.
    It’s always an event, a new arrival at Whitehawk Farm Stables. Today, even the horses in the yard sense something is going on and are snuffling at their tethers.
    In moments, I’m out of the Land Rover and unlatching the back of the trailer. Sue helps me lower it. I enter with caution, letting Samphire know that I’m coming, resting my hand on his rump, then his shoulder, finally untying his rope. Somehow, I have to back him out of this crate and I already know what he thinks of this kind of transport.
    ‘Off you go,’ I tell him, giving his chest a gentle push. No reaction, just a flaring of nostrils and a stamping of feet. ‘You’re home now.’
    This is a horse that needs incentives. I produce a carrot from my pocket and let him sniff it. His lips attempt to smother and snatch it away. I throw it to Sue, who gives Samphire a whistle. He makes a disgruntled rumbling sound, drops his head, paws the floor of the trailer and starts to move backwards.
    Once outside, Sue gives him the carrot, which hemunches hungrily and everyone gathers round to take a closer look. Mum has instructed them not to touch him for now, as he’s nervous and unpredictable.
    ‘He’s a beauty, Jodie,’ says Rachel. ‘What’s his name?’
    ‘Samphire,’ I reply, proudly. ‘He needs breaking in. Hope your offer of help is still open,’ I add with a grin.
    ‘You bet,’ replies Rachel, pleased.
    After answering lots of questions from the other girls about where he’s come from and how we nearly lost him at the auction, I walk him to the back of the yard and tether him on a ring so that I can give him a good groom. It also means