“What’s that?”
“It’s a fucking horse John”
“I know what a horse is, I’ve seen one before”. I’m sweating. A pungent nervous sweat with undertones of beer and whisky. “What the hell am I going to do with it?”
“I don’t know. He’s your horse now. Billy said you can keep him in his field for a bit. Give him a call. Look, I’ve got to go. Good luck with him”
“What’s his name?” I barely whisper.
“Gitano”.
I look at the horse. He’s big. His head looks as big as my body. I’m not good with animals. I’m more or less responsible for the passing of five guinea pigs and I once ran over our cat. I know nothing about horses. It seems calm though, so I pull gently on the rope and start walking to Billy’s field, a mile or so down the road. Gitano follows and I sense a little relief that I have at least won a sensible horse. I try to recall winning him but I barely recount buying the raffle tickets. I had woken up that morning lying on the pub carpet still holding the leg of a chair I must have hoped would have supported me better.
We get to the end of the road where Jimmy used to live with his missus. She was still there but Jimmy had to move away. It had been quieter in the Grey Owl without him, though the jokes had been cleaner and some of the female clientele definitely looked a little relieved. The lights go red as we approach and a car comes to a stop in front of us. I steer Gitano forward to cross but he suddenly spins and kicks out at the car, a Mercedes. There's a loud thud. Fuck. I look round and see a large dent in the passenger door. I can't run as I have no idea what the horse will do so I just stand there and wait for the inevitable, new sweat mixing with the old, becoming a grime.
The lady is screaming at me. It hurts my head. I try to tell her I only got the horse today but it seems to make things worse. There is real hate in her eyes as she takes down my address. Gitano is not insured I realise and she's already said it's going to cost over £500 to replace the door. I start hoping that Gitano kicks her. I'd pay £500 for that. The horse just stands there looking at me. “If you can't control your horse, you shouldn't have one,” she says as she climbs back into her car. There's an awkward moment as the lights turn red again and she just stares straight ahead waiting for them to change. I pull the horse across the road in front of her, half wanting to wave. I'm not sure how I'm going to explain to Ciara why I didn't come home last night and how I now have a horse who has just cost me £500.
I can't get hold of him on the phone but I guess he'll be ok with the horse in his field. I open the wooden gate, walk the horse in and close it behind us. His eyes are big and brown and stare at me still. I untie the rope and watch him wander off until he stops, puts his head down and starts eating grass. It's hard to look away. Even with a throbbing head, the prospect of trying to explain everything to my wife and the thought of money disappearing out of the account - there is a certain thrill I can feel about being the owner of this huge beast. I watch him for a long time before going back out the gate and making the long walk home.
It's not going well. My wife trusts me but the seventeen missed calls are a sure sign she was worried about what had happened to me last night. We haven't got to the bit about the horse yet.
“I won a prize” I say.
She ignores me.
“In a raffle”
Resigned to the fact she has to respond at some point she says
“what prize?”
The answer to this question has not made things any better.
“You can't keep it John. Get rid of it”
Ciara has gone from very worried to slightly disbelieving that she ever married me.
“But the kids will love him. Billy says it's ok to keep him in his field. At least come and see him”
She walks out. I really need to speak to Billy. I'll sort it out tomorrow. My head is still thumping and my eyes crave darkness. I haven't prepared for tomorrow's meeting. I pull the laptop out, turn on the screen and fall asleep. My phone wakes me. I look at the time. It's three in the afternoon but feels like four in the morning. It's Billy. I consider ignoring it and going back to sleep but I need to know if it's ok for the horse to stay in the field.
“Hello Billy”
I tell him how I woke up this morning and he says he knows. He's got a photo and everyone has seen it. The horse is fine in the field for now but i’ll have to help him out a bit. Was I going to the Grey Owl tonight? No I wasn't.
I put the phone down feeling a little relieved.
Billy calls me back five minutes later.
“There's no water in the field”
“Ok” I say.
“The horse will need water John”
“Oh. Yeah. Of course. I'll get that sorted out now”.
I shut the laptop down and stand. The throbbing still sits behind my eyes. I walk out side and squint in the bright light. Ciara is in the garden sowing seeds.
“I'm going to sort out water for Gitano”
She doesn't respond or even look up from what she's doing.
“I'll be back in an hour”
I walk out the gate and turn left to Billy's field. It's hard work dragging my legs down the road again but it's not raining and buds are beginning to open on the trees. Current events aside it all feels pretty hopeful.
I call Billy on the way so he can show me where the tap is. He's waiting at the gate when I arrive. “Alright Billy?”. He nods and ushers me through the gate. We walk along the hawthorn hedgerow, spaces filled with black plastic blown by the winter winds. “I brought you a big bucket” he says and turns the tap on, looking at me as he does. It's not the first time I've seen water come out of a tap but I watch how he does it obligingly. “You'll need to check it every day”.
Gitano wanders over and drinks heavily as soon as the bucket is full. He empties it. Billy looks at me so I refill it to show him I know how the tap functions. He seems happy with that. Gitano takes another drink. “If you blow in his nostrils he'll be your friend forever”. “What?” I say. He holds the cheekbones of the horse and lowers his face to blow in the horse's nostrils. “Watch”. He blows softly. I see Gitano throw his head up and then Billy is on his knees on the floor, blood pouring from his nose. “Fucking stupid fucking horse”. Gitano just looks at him, then wanders off to eat grass again. I take it they're not good friends. Billy doesn't say much on the way back out. “See you” I say as I walk out of the gate. He just nods and walks over to his car, blood all down his polo shirt, still oozing from his nose. As he drives off I feel my headache has gone and my legs feel lighter again. I walk back home.
Thank you. I hope it lands up a good story. It seems like one in my head
Gripping! Looking forward to chapter 2! xx