Horse Girl Rides Again Read online

  ‘Okay,’ said Rebecca. At least while Kevin was complaining he was alive.

  ‘Anyway, they could have taken it in turns on the wood if there wasn’t room,’ continued Kevin. ‘Time share or something.’

  ‘What number are you up to?’ asked Rebecca.

  Kevin thought for a moment. ‘I can’t remember,’ he muttered. What little energy he had left was fast draining out of him. ‘Want. Sleep. Please. Just want sleep. It’s my turn on the wood, Rose.’

  Oh, no! He was getting delirious.

  ‘No!’ yelled Rebecca. ‘Don’t you dare go to sleep! Come on,’ she encouraged him. ‘What number?’

  She felt Kevin suck in some air. She hoped that it wouldn’t be his last breath.

  ‘Eighteen thousand, three hundred and fifty-seven,’ he said.

  ‘Great,’ enthused Rebecca. ‘Now sing it.’

  ‘Oh! Do I have to?’ Kevin complained.

  ‘Yes, you do,’ snapped Rebecca. ‘Or I’ll make you get down and walk the rest of the way.’

  ‘Okay!’ scowled Kevin. He slowly, reluctantly, sat up on Rebecca’s back, which was quite hard because he was still cocooned deep down inside his sleeping bag. ‘Eighteen thousand, three hundred and fifty-seven green bottles, hanging on the wall. Eighteen thousand, three hundred and fifty-seven green bottles, hanging on the wall. And if one green bottle should accidentally fall, there’ll be . . . ’ Kevin did a quick calculation in his head, ‘ . . . eighteen thousand, three hundred and fifty-six green bottles, hanging on the wall.’ With that, Kevin collapsed onto Rebecca’s back mumbling the next number to himself. He would be okay for a while.

  Rebecca wiped some snow out of her eye with one of her hooves. The conditions were relentless. If anything, the blizzard was worsening the higher up they climbed. She could hardly see the nose in front of her face – elongated though it was.

  She had to keep going. She had to keep moving. She had to continue with her quest to find the Amazing Beryl and make the Amazing Beryl put her back to how she was before they visited her Make-a-Wish Tent at the Dingaling Brothers’ Big Top, Flying Monkeys and Sea Slug Circus Extravaganza.

  Rebecca trudged on through the snow.

  26

  ‘Seventeen thousand, eight hundred and fifty-three green bottles,’ mumbled Kevin, drifting off to sleep again.

  ‘Spotto!’ yelled Rebecca.

  Kevin sat bolt upright. ‘What? Where?’ Rebecca had been winning their spotto game since their plane had touched down at Kathmandu airport and she’d spottoed a yellow forklift truck on the tarmac. Kevin was determined to win some points back. ‘Where?’ he said again.

  ‘Nowhere,’ said Rebecca. Well, it would be very unlikely to find any yellow cars, trucks, buses, motorbikes or whatever on the upper slopes of Mount Everest to add to her points tally. The driver would have to be, like, really, really lost and have the ultimate snow shovel.

  ‘What?’ said Kevin. ‘Why did you yell “spotto”?’

  ‘Just trying to keep you awake,’ Rebecca replied.

  Suddenly a figure loomed out of the blizzard at them, like a figure suddenly looming out of a blizzard. Rebecca yelped and leapt back in fright. The figure was wearing what looked like a spacesuit.

  The figure waved a greeting at them so Rebecca relaxed a little. It obviously wasn’t an alien.

  Kevin sat up and stared at the mountaineer. ‘Spotto,’ said Kevin, because the mountaineer’s spacesuit was bright yellow.

  The man removed his balaclava and oxygen mask. He looked at them completely dumbfounded.

  ‘What are you doing up here?’ he gasped before quickly putting the oxygen mask to his mouth again.

  Although they didn’t know it, Rebecca and Kevin were in the company of the legendary Himalayan Mountains guide, Boyd Fotheringham the third.

  ‘Oh, duh!’ said Kevin. ‘We’re waiting for a bus.’ Then he slunk back down into his sleeping bag.

  Rebecca ignored Kevin’s rudeness. ‘Actually we’re trying to climb to the top.’

  ‘Are you crazy?’ said Boyd Fotheringham the third. ‘You haven’t got the right equipment. And besides, it’s a complete whiteout up there. I’ve never seen it like this before. Completely hopeless. Miyo Lungsungama is an angry goddess today. You’d better turn back.’

  Miyo Lungsungama – the legendary Himalayan Mountain goddess. ‘Er,’ said Rebecca. ‘Did she say anything about the Amazing Beryl being up there with her pet toucan?’

  Boyd Fotheringham the third sucked in some more oxygen. ‘Wait a minute,’ he said, ignoring Rebecca. Which is a bit of shame really because if he’d heard Rebecca’s question, it would undoubtedly have been the strangest one that he’d ever been asked. ‘How old are you?’

  Rebecca looked down at her hooves. She was a bit embarrassed. ‘I’m twelve,’ she mumbled.

  ‘And I’m ten and three quarters,’ mumbled Kevin from deep within his sleeping bag.

  Boyd Fotheringham the third’s mouth fell open. He was so shocked that he was forced to give himself some more oxygen. He’d obviously never come across a twelve-year-old girl in a tracksuit trying to piggyback her ten (and three quarters)-year-old brother up Mount Everest before.

  ‘You kids shouldn’t be up here without permission.’

  Rebecca reached into her tracksuit top and hoofed the legendary mountaineer a piece of paper.

  ‘What’s this?’ He unfolded the piece of paper and stared at it.

  I give permission for my son/daughter to attend this year’s school-holiday excursion to visit the mystical one-legged Sherpas of the Upper Langtang Valley in Nepal. I enclose $10,000 to go towards airfares, accomerdation urcomidatshun hotels and stuff.

  Signed Parent/Guardian Mr and Mrs Yallop

  ‘Yes, well, that seems to be in order,’ said Boyd Fotheringham the third. He handed the permission slip back to Rebecca. She quickly stuffed it back in her pocket before the mountaineer realised that it wasn’t her mum and dad’s proper signature.

  ‘But this is much higher up than the Langtang Valley,’ he added.

  ‘Upper Langtang Valley,’ Kevin corrected him.

  ‘Be careful up there,’ said Boyd Fotheringham the third, nodding towards the summit. And with that he slipped his balaclava and oxygen mask back on and with a final wave he disappeared down through the blinding blizzard.

  Rebecca took a deep breath. Well, that was a relief. As soon as she’d seen Boyd Fotheringham the third’s balaclava, she’d thought he was going to rob them. She was really glad that he hadn’t. They only had a packet of M&M’s and half a Mars Bar between them.

  Half an hour later Rebecca heaved herself up over the last difficult part of the climb. This must have been the famous Hillary Step.

  Before embarking on this quest to find the Amazing Beryl, Rebecca had done some research on Nepal and the Himalayan Mountains. The famous New Zealander, Sir Edmund Hillary, and his (two-legged) Sherpa guide, Tenzing Norgay, had been the first people to reach the summit of Mount Everest in 1953. She tried to imagine the excitement that they must have felt as they negotiated the Hillary Step and saw the summit just ahead of them. They must have practically sprinted up the last part, crash-tackling each other along the way, to see who would be first to bags the summit.

  ‘Wake up, Kevin!’ Rebecca was excited. ‘We’re on the Hillary Step.’

  Kevin yawned and stretched himself awake. ‘Bit of a coincidence that,’ he said, emerging from his nylon cocoon like a nylon butterfly.

  ‘What is?’ replied Rebecca. Only a short way to go now.

  ‘Oh, duh!’ said Kevin. ‘How it’s called the Hillary Step and that, and he was like the first person to climb it.’ Kevin clambered down from Rebecca’s back and stood on the Hillary Step with her.

  Rebecca looked at Kevin and smiled. ‘Ha ha. That’s so funny, I might just explode with laughter.’

  Suddenly Kevin reached over and tagged Rebecca. ‘Race you,’ he shouted before tearing off up the incline towards the summit.

/>   Rebecca whinnied, reared up on her hind legs and then thundered off after him through the snow.

  27

  Rebecca was the first to the summit by miles. Although horses might not be that great at running in snow (especially at high altitude), they’re still heaps better at it than ten-and-three-quarter-year-old boys. Especially ten-and-three-quarter-year-old boys whose legs have severely cramped up, having been piggybacked most of the way up the tallest mountain in the world by their older sisters.

  Kevin came hobbling up to the summit rubbing the back of his legs.

  ‘Beat you,’ said Rebecca.

  ‘That’s so not fair,’ sulked Kevin. ‘You’ve got an extra set of legs.’

  ‘Diddums,’ replied Rebecca.

  Suddenly the wind ceased its relentless howling and a calming silence fell upon the earth. Rebecca and Kevin gazed out from the rooftop of the world and their brains almost shut down. They could see forever, or so it seemed.

  ‘Whoa, dude!’ said Kevin.

  Rebecca said nothing because there was nothing to say. Words couldn’t describe what she was seeing or feeling so they simply refused to formulate in her head. She reflected on the fact that she positively had to have been the first horse to ever get up so high. She didn’t realise it, of course, because it was still top secret, but during the 1960s, the Americans had tried to put a donkey into outer space. The donkey had taken one look at the rocket ship that its handlers were trying to prod it onto and it had refused to budge any further. The same donkey later escaped and is still believed to be on the run.

  ‘Hey look,’ said Kevin, pointing off into the horizon and interrupting Rebecca’s brain freeze. ‘You’ve left your bedroom light on.’

  ‘Ha, ha, ha,’ replied Rebecca sarcastically, because she could do sarcasm better than most members of the equine family, except for perhaps zebras: ‘You want me to cross this river, with those crocodiles. I’d love to.’

  As wonderful as the view was, Rebecca was disappointed that there was no sign of the Amazing Beryl up on top of Mount Everest. If she had been here then she was long gone. Perhaps back down to the Upper Langtang Valley and the one-legged Sherpas. Perhaps over the edge and into oblivion during the storm, leaving Rebecca stuck forever as a horse.

  When they’d tracked down the mystical one-legged Sherpas yesterday, the Sherpas had been engaged in an energetic game of their national sport – hopscotch. Though there had been a lot more hopping than scotching going on, if they were going to be honest.

  Rebecca and Kevin had spoken to the chief mystical one-legged Sherpa inside his traditional thatched shed, where he’d been watching a documentary on Himalayan mountain villagers. When the program had finished, the chief mystical one-legged Sherpa had told them that the Amazing Beryl had stayed and meditated with them for a while, but then she’d moved onto the roof.

  Rebecca and Kevin had stepped back outside and looked up on top of the chief mystical one-legged Sherpa’s traditional thatched shed, but disappointingly there was no sign of the Amazing Beryl.

  ‘I mean the roof of the world,’ said the chief mystical one-legged Sherpa who had followed them outside.

  Rebecca and Kevin looked confused.

  The chief mystical one-legged Sherpa pointed high up into the Himalayas. ‘Mount Everest,’ he said. ‘Or as we call her, Chomolungma. Our mutual friend, the Amazing Beryl, or as we call her, Beryl, has gone to live with Miyo Lungsungama.’

  ‘Er,’ said Rebecca. ‘And who’s that?’

  ‘Our goddess,’ said the chief mystical one-legged Sherpa. ‘And there’s only room for one of them up there.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Rebecca.

  ‘Be careful of this Amazing Beryl of yours,’ warned the chief mystical one-legged Sherpa. ‘She has the power.’ Rebecca didn’t understand what he was talking about at first. Perhaps the Amazing Beryl had seized control of Chomolungma from Miyo Lungsungama. But then the chief pointed to a long extension cord that ran out of his traditional thatched shed, out along the village road and then up into the mountains.

  ‘I wish you well in your quest,’ said the chief. ‘Should you require any guidance, we would be more than happy to provide some for you.’ With that he hopped back inside his traditional thatched shed to watch the Discovery Channel.

  Rebecca fished inside her pocket wondering what they had to pay the Sherpas with. Mmmmmm. A packet of M&M’s and a Mars Bar would probably get them a guide to take them as far as the bottom step of the chief mystical one-legged Sherpa’s traditional thatched shed. Rebecca decided to follow the extension cord instead.

  ‘What is a Sherpa anyway?’ said Kevin as he ripped the Mars Bar in half and started chewing at it like a lion gnawing on an antelope’s leg.

  ‘They’re the Nepalese mountain people,’ replied Rebecca. ‘They usually work as guides. They’re very famous.’

  ‘Well, I’ve never heard of them before this,’ said Kevin.

  ‘That’s because Sherpas don’t usually guide people around suburban shopping malls,’ said Rebecca. ‘Though the way Mum loses her car all the time, they could probably get some work in the car park.’

  After painstakingly hauling their way to the summit of Mount Everest, there was still no sign of the Amazing Beryl or Miyo Lungsungama. Rebecca lowered her head to the ground and whickered. The trail of the extra-long extension cord had gone cold yesterday afternoon when it had disappeared inside a crevasse. So this whole trek had been a complete waste of time. It could have killed them too.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said Kevin. ‘What’s that?’

  Rebecca looked over to where Kevin was pointing. She could hardly believe it. On the other side of the Hillary Step, sheltered from the wind and almost out of view, was a small circus sideshow tent.

  Kevin scratched his head. ‘Do you reckon that could be the Amazing Beryl?’

  ‘I think there’s a fairly good chance that it might be,’ said Rebecca.

  The two of them tore down the slight incline to the tent. They arrived quite breathless due to the thin oxygen at high altitude. While they stood there recovering they noticed a sign on the tent’s entrance flap that read:

  The Amazing Beryl. Mystic, Faith Healer, Fortune Teller. For a free reading come inside.

  ‘Come in,’ said a cheery voice from inside the tent, just as they were about to try and knock on the entrance flap.

  Rebecca and Kevin cautiously stepped into the tent. It was a lot warmer in the tent than it was outside. The Amazing Beryl had a small three-bar electric heater burning away to help keep out the biting cold. Kevin followed the heater’s extension cord as it snaked its way around the Amazing Beryl’s fortune-telling table, disappeared beneath the tent and outside, where it presumably ran down the side of Mount Everest and into the chief mystical one-legged Sherpa’s traditional thatched shed.

  ‘Hello, my dears,’ said the Amazing Beryl. ‘I have been expecting you.’

  Rebecca gazed at the Amazing Beryl in awe. She had been expecting them. Maybe she was a proper clarevyont clairevoyent fortune teller after all.

  ‘How did you know?’ asked Rebecca.

  ‘The universe is full of many mysteries, my dear,’ said the Amazing Beryl. She was resplendent in her pink witch’s hat and lime-green dress that seemed to be made entirely out of ten cent coins. All of which was wrapped in an enormous bulky jumper that made her look like the Michelin man. ‘However, on this occasion my good friend, the chief mystical one-legged Sherpa, sent me a text message informing me of your imminent arrival.’ The Amazing Beryl tapped her mobile and then gave them a kindly smile.

  Kevin looked into the corner. He was startled to see the Amazing Beryl’s toucan (okay, the seagull that she’d painted black and gold) lying on its back with a small oxygen mask on the end of its artificial beak.

  ‘Is it okay?’ asked Kevin, nodding to the toucan.

  ‘He’s fine,’ replied the Amazing Beryl. ‘Toucans rarely get up as high as twenty-nine thousand feet. He’s just acclimat
ising.’

  ‘Now, my dears,’ continued the Amazing Beryl. ‘What can I do for you?’

  Rebecca plonked herself down on the floor behind the Amazing Beryl’s fortune-telling table. Kevin went over and stroked her pet toucan, or at least he did until it pecked him on his finger with its cardboard cylinder beak. Kevin obviously felt sorry for the seagull having to live all the way up here and not being able to get any of its traditional food: chips at the beach.

  ‘Well,’ said Rebecca. She wasn’t really sure where to start. In the end she decided that the truth was as good a place as any. ‘Well, it’s sort of like this. We came and saw you when the Dingaling Brothers’ Big Top, Flying Monkeys and Sea Slug Circus Extravaganza visited our suburb.’

  ‘Ah yes,’ said the Amazing Beryl. ‘Such fun times.’

  Not for me, thought Rebecca. ‘Anyway,’ she said. ‘The thing is, you sort of, accidentally I guess, turned me into a horse.’

  The Amazing Beryl reeled back in shock. ‘What, my dear? You think that you’re a horse.’ The Amazing Beryl gave her a kindly smile.

  ‘Um, no,’ replied Rebecca. ‘I don’t think that I’m a horse. I know that I’m a horse.’

  The Amazing Beryl closed her eyes and shook her head. Then she slowly opened her eyes and looked at Rebecca again.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ she said. ‘You are a horse. I didn’t see it at first. I just thought that you were quite tall. It must be the ponytail and your braces. The tracksuit doesn’t help either.’

  ‘So, er,’ said Rebecca cautiously.

  ‘So you want me to put you back to how you were before?’ said the Amazing Beryl.

  ‘Yes,’ pleaded Rebecca. ‘I’ve had enough of being . . . of being . . . ’ Rebecca searched for a better way to say it, but in the end there wasn’t one. ‘ . . . of being a horse.’

  The Amazing Beryl gave Rebecca a kindly smile. ‘My dear, you’ve always had the power to get back to how you were before.’ Then the Amazing Beryl pointed to Rebecca’s feet.