Sarah Lean - A HORSE FOR ANGEL

“Sarah Lean weaves magic and emotion into beautiful stories.”

Cathy Cassidy

“Touching, reflective and lyrical.” Culture supplement,

The Sunday Times

“… beautifully written and moving. A talent to watch.”

The Bookseller

“Sarah Lean’s graceful, miraculous writing will have you weeping one moment and rejoicing the next.”

Katherine Applegate, author of The One and Only Ivan

For Mum

Contents

Praise for Sarah Lean Praise for Sarah Lean Praise for Sarah Lean Dedication Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Summer Holidays Acknowledgments About the Author Books by Sarah Lean Copyright About the Publisher “Sarah Lean weaves magic and emotion into beautiful stories.” Cathy Cassidy “Touching, reflective and lyrical.” Culture supplement, The Sunday Times “… beautifully written and moving. A talent to watch.” The Bookseller “Sarah Lean’s graceful, miraculous writing will have you weeping one moment and rejoicing the next.” Katherine Applegate, author of The One and Only Ivan

Dedication For Mum

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Summer Holidays

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Books by Sarah Lean

Copyright

About the Publisher

UM WAS LATE PICKING ME UP FROM DRAMA CLUB again. Which meant another twenty minutes of not wanting to be there. There was just me looking through the window as all the other children left.

Me and this boy called Jamie were extras and scenery painters, doing background colours. Which was just about all right with us, if we had to be there at all. So I thought if anyone was on my side it would be Jamie. But he wasn’t. Especially not when he told Mrs Oliver that I was out the back doing dangerous things with the wiring.

Mrs Oliver blew a fuse and said I should explain myself. I looked at her and took a breath and I was about to speak, but then I didn’t know what ‘explaining myself’ meant. You can’t explain yourself. You’re just you. Even though what actually happened wasn’t like me at all. I’d never, ever done anything like that before.

The heat in my face made my eyes sting because I was suddenly thinking about what Mum would say.

“Well?” Mrs Oliver folded her arms.

“Well, what happened was this,” I said, deciding to tell her the events like a story. “I finished doing the scenery painting, like you said, and Jamie and me had washed the brushes and we were just leaving them to dry and I found those lights… you know – the ones you were looking for? And they were in a bag with other things that needed fixing and the plug was missing and I knew how to join them to another set of lights. So I just did it, but I forgot to ask and… I didn’t mean to do it.”

“Nell Green, this is so unlike you,” she said. What were you thinking, playing with such dangerous things?”

Which was silly because it wasn’t dangerous; the lights weren’t even plugged in, so nothing bad was going to happen. And maybe that made me look as if I wasn’t sorry enough.

So I said, “Sorry, Mrs Oliver, I won’t do it again.”

Mainly I was thinking, please don’t tell Mum. Which made my face flush and prickle again.

“Who knows what might have happened?” Mrs Oliver said. “What would your mother say?”

Sometimes you wish people could read your mind.

It didn’t seem to matter that there was now an extra-long string of lights for the scenery. Mrs Oliver didn’t expect an answer though, because she turned on her heels and clopped across the wooden floor.

So there I was with my face pushed against the window, looking as far down the road as I could to watch out for Mum’s car, hoping Mrs Oliver wouldn’t see Mum arrive. But she did and they discussed the incident through the car window. Now it was an incident, like some great big disaster.

I was belted in my seat, sandwiched between their conversation. Mrs Oliver said what an unusual skill I had, but that I should be discouraged from meddling with electrical things. Surely she meant fixing! Mum agreed instantly and gave me a look that said, How could you? Which was what I mostly wanted to avoid. That look.

“Maybe Nell needs more to do,” Mum said. “Something more challenging to keep her occupied, Mrs Oliver. A bigger part in the play perhaps?”

One little thing was now turning into a major drama.

Keep quiet, I told myself. From Monday there’s going to be two weeks of Easter holidays with Nana. Mum will be too busy with work and a conference, so there’ll be no after-school clubs, no appointments, no waiting. Just me and Nana mooching about her house watching daytime TV, playing cards and computer bingo, safe and quiet. Nana doesn’t drive and she won’t take the bus because you never know who’s sat on the seat before you or where they’ve been, so she can’t take me to rehearsals. Hah! And Mrs Oliver was bound to forget.

Mum drove away, saying, “Do we need to have a talk?”

“No,” I said. Because her betrayed face said everything.