Loose Connections by Rosemary Hayes Page A

the middle of the light. Ahead of him stretched a huge paddock. It
hadn’t been here before – he knew it hadn’t. Where was he? This place wasn’t in his street. This was somewhere completely different, unfamiliar.
    The little dark pony he’d patted this afternoon was still there – but it had changed. Now its coat had grown thick and woolly against the winter cold. And it was saddled up. A girl
was riding it round the paddock and another girl was standing some distance away watching them, her fingers to her mouth, blowing on them to warm them up, frowning with concentration.
    Who are you? What am I doing here?
    ‘Go on!’ she was shouting. ‘You can do it!’
    The girl on the pony urged it into a trot, then a canter, round and round in circles, her hair streaming out behind her, her breath a cloud in the frosty air.
    There was a line of jumps set up in the middle of the paddock and Jake watched as the girl rode the pony at them. They sailed over every one, the pony never breaking stride. When they were over
the final jump, the young rider leant forward, her face split by a triumphant grin, and patted the pony’s neck.
    ‘Good boy!’
    The other girl clapped her hands together and ran over.
    ‘See. I told you you could do it!’
    Jake stared at her. There was something familiar about her – about the way she moved and the way her long hair fell forward over her face.
    Suddenly he was full of anger. He wanted to shout at them both, whoever they were, to shout away this whole weird experience; force it back to normal, to the here and now.
    He moved closer, but the girls didn’t notice him. He started to run towards them. They
must
be able to see him now. He was only a few steps away from them. But still, neither of the
girls turned round to look at him. They went on chatting and laughing together.
    Jake peered at the girl standing on the ground. Then she turned from the pony and looked towards him and, as she did so, she smoothed her hair back, away from her face. He could see her clearly
now.
    He stared in disbelief.
    It can’t be! It can’t be Verity. She’s not here. She’s at my house. What the hell is happening?
    ‘Verity!’ he shouted. At least, he thought he was shouting – he was sure he was shouting – but he couldn’t hear his voice and still the girls took no notice.
    What is this? Even if they can’t hear me, they must be able to
see
me!
He stretched out his hand to grab Verity’s arm, but there was nothing there.
    ‘Verity,’ he yelled again. ‘What are you doing? Why are you here? What’s going on?’
    And this time he heard his own voice, but as he spoke the light vanished – instantly, as if it had been switched off by some unseen hand. The scene in front of him disappeared.
    Jake spun round. It was so dark that he couldn’t see anything. He didn’t know where he was. He shouted again, and this time he could hear the panic in his scared, high-pitched
‘Help! Help me!’ He stumbled about, trying to find his bearings. Stupid idiot. Why hadn’t he brought a torch with him?
    But he could feel something near him, something warm and alive very close beside him. He gasped again, and jumped back, his heart racing. There was a snort and a startled squeal.
    Slowly, his heart rate slowed down. He put out a tentative hand. The pony stayed still and let him stroke it. Its neck was smooth and there was no trace of the thick winter coat that, only
moments ago, Jake had seen as it cleared the line of jumps in the cold, frosty air. Now, the pony’s coat was smooth and glossy just as it had been earlier in the day.
    Jake put both arms round the animal’s neck and buried his head in its mane.
    ‘Am I going mad?’ he whispered. ‘What’s happening to me? What’s wrong with me?’
    It’s Verity. She’s doing my head in! How can she be here? How can it be winter in the summer, and how can this place change so much in one day?
    He stood there, clinging to the pony, trying to make