***Chapter 9***

***Pastures New***

The day that changed everything began like any other. Jimmy saddled up Beauty and Magic and Arthur and Prudence set off for a morning ride. He watched as pompous Mr Hargreaves (or Keeper of Keys as his underlings called him behind his back) unlocked the gates and the two horses, heads held high, tails swishing, clip-clopped their way down Whistledown Lane in the summer sunshine. And not for the first time he wished the stables at Follyfoot were his own.

Sadly, most were empty and unused. Many years ago a whole fleet of horses had been kept there, hired out or schooled or tended to while their owners went about their business, but nowadays, aside from Beauty and Magic, Follyfoot stables were neglected. It was such a shame they were left unused and to see those wide open spaces and verdant fields where horses could run free instead of the constant grind of work in smoky cities that was the lot of many of these proud, beautiful animals. Only last week there had been a picture in his newspaper of a pathetically thin, elderly carthorse dying in a busy London street from the strain of pulling yet another heavy load. It was not the fault of its master. The desperate fellow had been using the horse, all that he had, to earn money to provide food for his five hungry, motherless children. Children who should have had full bellies, medicine when they were sick and warm clothes when it was cold; toys and books to entertain; to play in pure, clean air, perhaps even learn to ride. But only the wealthy, untouched by the Great Depression, could afford such luxuries. He was lucky to be in work when others lived hand to mouth. Sighing, Jimmy picked up paint and paintbrush. Arthur Maddocks had told him to paint the cellar door and he wanted to have the second coat dry before the heavy rain forecast for the afternoon.

He was busy painting, dwelling on whether or not he should inform Mr Maddocks' of the flaking paintwork he'd noticed on the kitchen window-sills or if it might be considered getting ideas above his station, when there was a terrible commotion.

Being one of the youngest employees (and certainly the speediest with his lanky legs even allowing for the number of times he bumped into things or fell over) Davey would often run errands and Cook had sent him to let her husband know she'd be late home as the Maddocks had decided to host a dinner party that evening. But he returned barely twenty minutes later, nowhere near time enough to have reached Brentwood Farm where Bill Crane worked, two fields and five miles away, breathlessly rattling the gates, pressing the bell and yelling loudly for "Mr H'Argreaves!" (Davy still had presence of mind to insert the initial "H", having been told off about dropping it often enough, even if he did make it sound like H had no business at all being there in the first place) "Quick, let me in! 'Urry up, 'urry up!"

Startled by the din, people abandoned work. Mr Hargreaves, tight-lipped, threw down the paperwork he'd been attending to and strode furiously to the gates.

"How dare you address me in such impudent fashion, ignorant young pup!" said he when he reached there, and rapped poor Davey's knuckles with the dozens of keys he always carried gaoler-like on a large silver key chain.

"OWWW!" The boy quickly pulled back his sore hand. "I finks they're all goners, I do!" he added hysterically. "The motorcar driver AND the butcher AND the 'orses AND Mr and Mrs Maddocks…"

One of the kitchen staff screamed. Somebody gasped. Gertie of Laundry staggered as though about to swoon. Finding himself surrounded by anxious faces and questions, Davey, barely fifteen, and hardly more than a child, felt suddenly overwhelmed. His mind turned to mush. Keeper of Keys was yelling angrily and, unable to take in a word, he burst into frightened tears.

Jimmy shoved his way to the front. Somebody had to take charge. Hargreaves wasn't helping matters, shouting like a madman for Davey to "spit it out, you ****** stupid great ape" and Eddie Prendergast, normally second-in-command by virtue of his age and longest time employed, only stood there trembling. Jimmy could have sworn too he saw tears shining in the older man's eyes and he remembered Eddie had told him his only family, a sister, had emigrated to America years ago. Follyfoot and the Maddocks were all he had.

"Move back, move back! Give the poor b****r some space. Davey, slow, deep breaths, lad. Like I showed you." Jimmy (who'd discovered Davey's fear of heights when he froze while climbing a ladder and taught him breathing exercises) laid a hand on the young boy's shoulder. "No stopping without my say-so."

Davey nodded, gulping back a sob. His father had been a workshy drunk who'd walked out on his family years ago and Jimmy had become a father figure, helping him with the sums and letters that jumbled up in his head, explaining to him how easy it was to get a young girl "into trouble" and why, no matter how "fired up" he might be, he had to be careful - and, Jimmy added sternly, he must always respect a lass too.

Jimmy had intervened more than once when even Arthur Maddocks' remarkable patience finally reached breaking point with Davey's blatant laziness. He had been on the verge of sacking him three times (the last time when he found the stable hand drunk and fast asleep in the hayloft clutching a bottle of cider) but each time Jimmy pleaded his case, pointing out his youth, pledging to take personal responsibility, and Arthur had relented.

After the boy had taken several deep breaths, Jimmy, ignoring Hargreaves' protests that a beating would soon knock some sense into him (and, Jimmy strongly suspected, had there been no one there to witness it, Keeper of Keys might well have delivered a few well-aimed blows) he deemed him calm enough to tell his story...