Karin Fossum - The Murder of Harriet Krohn

He thanks her and rushes back. Julie is standing with her arms around the pony’s neck.

“Come on,” he says, “we’ve got permission! We’ll go and get his saddle. But we’ll have to keep to the edge of the riding ring because there’s a lesson going on there. There are lots of riders, and we mustn’t get in the way.”

She jumps up and down, clapping her hands.

“And you’ve got to do what I tell you,” he orders.

She nods. She follows him out to the tack room and watches as he lifts the saddle down. Her cheeks are red with anticipation. He examines her boots to see if they’ve got proper heels. They do. He carries out the saddle and leads the pony into the passage, as Julie stands watching. She strokes the pony incessantly and pulls its tail, unable to restrain herself. He struggles a bit with the bridle, but gradually he remembers how to get it on and tightens the straps. He glances down at Julie’s legs and shortens the stirrups. There are some riding helmets on pegs, and he finds one that fits and puts it on her head.

“Off we go, then,” he says, “but watch your feet. He’s heavy.”

“I want to lead him,” Julie says. She’s turbocharged; this is an enthusiasm he’s never seen before.

“No,” Charlo says. “Daddy’s got to help you the first time, because we don’t know how friendly he is. Not all ponies are friendly,” he says, looking serious.

She glares at him fiercely. Of course the pony’s friendly. The pony will do whatever she wants, she’s sure of it. A certain resoluteness has come over her, a single-mindedness, as if someone has flicked a switch. He sees this and understands: he was a child himself once. He’s hung around stables, and he knows what obsession is. They arrive at the ring. Charlo leads the pony in, finds a spot away from the others, and lifts Julie up. She grasps the reins and her eyes light up.

“Now,” he instructs, “feet in the stirrups. Sit well back and lift your chin. Fine,” he says, pulling at the bridle. The pony moves off immediately with short, waddling steps. Julie holds the reins tight and her body begins to sway. She’s turned dumb and her look is far away. She no longer notices Charlo. It’s as if she’s somewhere else. The pony ambles along with its head down, walking in a tight circle, around and around in the ring. Julie looks around proudly to see if the others can see her, see how grand she is. Now and then she takes the reins in one hand so that she can stroke the pony’s neck. Charlo feels a huge sense of satisfaction because he’s given her joy. He isn’t prepared for what follows. They keep this up for twenty minutes or so, until he begins to look at the clock in the knowledge that Inga Lill is waiting with dinner.

“Well, Julie, we’ll have to stop now. That was fun, wasn’t it?” She doesn’t answer or nod, just purses her lips. She stares firmly ahead.

“Again,” she says, clinging on hard. He does another circuit. Wants to be extra generous and does one more after that.

“Now,” he tries again, “that’s enough. It’s getting late.” She clenches her hands in front of her and won’t release the reins.

“Don’t want to go home,” she says sullenly. There is an almost fanatical look in her eyes. “I want to do more riding. Go around again. Lots of times.”

Charlo smiles to himself. But at the same time he must be an adult. She’s got to listen to him; they can’t stay here till nightfall.

“Julie,” he begins, “we can come back another time. Maybe you can start lessons with the others. Wouldn’t that be nice? But now we’ve got to go home and have dinner.”

“Not hungry,” she says emphatically. “I want more riding.” He reaches out for her gently and lovingly, but she twists out of his grasp and pushes him away with one hand. Suddenly she digs her heels into the pony’s sides, and it begins to trip along at a good rate. Charlo jogs along beside it.

“Easy now, Julie,” he gasps. “We can’t go on all night. If you think this is fun, we can come here again. But now we’ve got to go.” She tightens her grip on the reins again and looks over his head.

“He’s not tired at all. He wants to go on. I know he wants to go on!”

Charlo is completely at a loss. She’s strong-willed and has shut him out. She’s at one with this plump, white creature that walks patiently around and around.

“Maybe Mom’s frightened about us,” he says, trying to meet her eyes, but she won’t look at him.

“I want to go around some more times,” she declares with an authority he would never have believed possible. She clings to the pony; she’s made him hers. Again he starts walking around, thinking about what he’s set in motion.

“Tomorrow,” he says, and looks at her, imploringly now. “Tomorrow we’ll come back again. I’ll speak to the riding teacher, and perhaps you can have lessons on him. Once a week. It’s expensive, but I’ll talk to Mom about it.”

She’s not listening. She’s stroking the pony and her body is undulating. He notices that she’s got excellent balance — she feels at home. Then he stops suddenly, halting the pony and making his voice stern.

“We’re going now, Julie. That’s enough.”

Sternness doesn’t come naturally to him, and she calls his bluff, knowing that he doesn’t mean it. She pushes on with the pony, as impenetrable as a brick wall. She’s lost her heart to Snowball. He’s her first great love, and rules and regulations no longer apply. Charlo runs his hand through his hair and sighs. Just then he has an idea.

“You can ride up to the stable,” he says. “That’ll be a little ride in the open air.”

Reluctantly she allows herself to be led away, but the idea of leaving the pony is too much for her. He leads her out and the hooves slap against asphalt. Julie straightens her back, a look of sadness in her eyes. The golden interlude is over, and she can hardly bear it.

“Tomorrow’s another day,” he says, “and before that we need a bit of sleep. You’re really good. You’ve got a natural talent. I’ll boast about you to Mom, and then she’ll say yes. Won’t she? Aren’t you pleased about that?” They’ve arrived at the stable door. Julie isn’t pleased, as her lower lip is sticking well out. Then it starts to quiver.

“There,” he says, “just slide down. I’ll catch you.” But she doesn’t slide down. She just sits there clamped to the reins. He stretches and clasps her around the waist and begins to pull. She clutches the pony’s mane and holds tight. He pulls harder. The pony begins to shift from one foot to the other.

“Julie,” he begs feebly, “you’ve got to be a big girl now and not be silly. I can’t take any more.” Eventually she allows herself to be lifted down, her body stiff and stubborn. But she’s still holding the reins.

“You can lead him in,” says Charlo, and she leads the fat pony down the passage and into his box.

“Now he needs a bit of grooming,” Charlo explains, “because he’s been working hard. First we’ve got to take off all his tack, and then we’ve got to find a brush. We’ve got to clean out his hooves and stroke him a bit.”

Julie runs to the tack room and returns with a brush. She begins grooming as hard as she can, until her hair is damp with sweat. Charlo puts everything back in its place and washes the bit in hot water. He has the strange feeling that he’s seeing the start of something big. Something that will take over. He sees a bag of dry bread in a corner and takes a piece out and hands it to Julie. He shows her how to hold it. The pony wolfs it down in record time. Then she stands loitering at the box door; she can’t stop stroking the white muzzle. He can’t get her to come away. She holds on to the bars tightly and resists him.