The Rocking Horse

This heartwarming short story about a forgotten toy is by Stephen Murphy.

pounds, but that it should fetch a lot more!

“He reckons it’s quite rare and much better preserved than most he’s seen. Fancy that!”

“I do hope it doesn’t get snapped up by a dealer,” Meg reflected.

“It would be lovely if it goes to a home with youngsters.”

“Market forces,” Phil replied, always the pragmatist.

“If it sells, we’ll give something to charity, of course. But who would have thought it, eh?”

Meg went back to her magazine and Phil set off to the outhouse to inspect his new-found treasure.

****

The auction took place a week later. Phil went along to watch the proceedings.

He had attended many livestock auctions over the years, as both a seller and buyer, but this was something different.

He spent some time inspecting the various lots before settling himself on a seat in the back row of the auction room, where he was soon joined by other bidders.

****

Some time after Phil had set out for the auction,

Meg answered a knock at the farmhouse door.

She opened it to a woman aged around thirty, dressed in jodhpurs and a tweed hacking jacket.

“Can I help you?” Meg asked.

“I hope so.” The woman held out her hand.

Meg took it, unsure and hesitant.

“My name,” the woman continued, “is Joyce Vanstone. I own the stables on Green Lane.”

“I know the stables,” Meg confirmed. “It changed hands a couple of years ago.”

“Yes,” Joyce said. “My partner and I took it on. Could you spare me five minutes?”

“Yes, of course,” Meg replied, ushering the visitor into the kitchen. “Excuse the mess; I’ve been baking.”

“I won’t keep you long.

It’s about your horse.”

Meg was slightly taken aback, but then she realised what Joyce meant.

“Oh, the horse!” Meg smiled. “Sorry. The fact you own a riding stables confused me for a minute.

“Um – forgive me asking, but you do know it is a rocking horse, don’t you? Not the real thing?”

She recalled Phil had mentioned an auction, and that he had been cleaning the horse up.

He had left early that morning with the horse in the Land-Rover, saying he was popping into town and would be gone most of the day.

It was Joyce Vanstone’s turn to smile.

“Yes, of course. Sorry – let me get to the point.

“Our riding stables cater for disabled children with physical and emotional difficulties.

“Some of them are very young and quite nervous.

“When Greg noticed the card in the newsagent’s about your rocking horse, he thought it would be just the thing.

“The younger children could ride it, get used to movement, the smell of the leather saddle and the reins.

“It really would be absolutely ideal – and we would like to make you an offer, although funds are tight.” She paused and looked earnestly at Meg.

“I’ll make some tea,” Meg said.

****

Back at the auction house, Phil had sat through many lots and watched with fascination.

Bids were made from the floor, by telephone and even over the internet.

He hadn’t realised just how many lots there were and that he was in for an afternoon of it.

According to the brochure, the rocking horse was well down the list, after the doll’s-houses, and it could be another hour yet.

It had been a long day – Phil had been there since first thing in the morning.

Nonetheless, he was enjoying the process and was keen to see how his horse fared.

****

Back at the farmhouse, Meg poured out the tea and set a plate of biscuits in front of her guest.

“Joyce – it was Joyce, wasn’t it?”

The two of them nursed their cups of tea over the farmhouse table.

“Yes, Joyce Vanstone. And I know you are Meg and Phil Bailey. You’re well known in these parts,

Mrs Bailey.”

“Just Meg, please.

Anyway, about the horse?”

“When Greg went back the next day to jot down the details, Mrs Downley – the shop proprietor – said that your husband had returned that morning and asked for the card to be removed.

“When she asked him if it had been sold, your husband said no, but it soon would be, because it was going to auction.”

Meg took all this in and smiled at the telling of it. Joyce had one of those animated faces, full of enquiry and feeling.

She could feel Joyce’s passion for the rocking horse – although what could be done about it,

Meg wasn’t sure.

She spoke carefully. “I know that Phil has a soft spot for your stables, Joyce.

“He often comments when we pass your paddock and he sees the little ones on the ponies.” She paused.

“Look, I can’t promise anything, but I can see how keen you are about the rocker.

“I’ll call Phil and see if he would consider withdrawing it from the auction. Maybe we can come to an arrangement.”

“Would you? We would so appreciate it.”

Meg took her mobile from the kitchen table.

Within seconds, the sound of the “Dambusters” theme tune filled the room. Meg let out a frustrated sigh.

“Would you believe it?” Joyce nodded her head. “He forgot to take it?” “Yes! So annoying!” Meg ended the call and pursed her lips.

“I am so sorry, Joyce. I fear you’ve had a wasted journey.”

They looked silently into their cups for inspiration. Joyce suddenly raised her head.

“Are you sure Mr Bailey might have considered us, Meg? I don’t want to tread

“We don’t have much spare cash at the moment”

on toes. We really don’t have much spare cash at the moment.”

Meg nodded.

“My Phil is a complex character, Joyce, believe me!” She laughed.

“But I’m sure he wouldn’t have taken it to auction if he’d heard your plans first.

“He really did want the horse to go to a good home.

“He would be thrilled at the idea of young children playing with it – but he was at a loss as to what to do with it. What are you thinking?”

“I have an idea,” Joyce replied.

****

At the auction house, Phil watched with interest as more lots came and went.

Eventually the rocking horse’s moment came. The auctioneer was in full flow.

“Do we have a starting bid for this fine lateVictorian rocking horse? Do I hear five hundred?

“Do I hear four hundred? We have four hundred. We have four-fifty on the internet . . .”

The bidding was swift. It seemed to be between a couple of people in the room and an internet bidder.

Phil’s palms were sweating with excitement and anticipation as the bidding rose higher.

“I have one thousand pounds on

the internet. Any advance on one thousand? Going once, twice . . .

“Final chance – one thousand pounds to the internet bidder!”

The auctioneer banged down a gavel.

“Next item, please.” Phil left the room.

****

It was late afternoon when Phil arrived back at the farmhouse. He swept into the kitchen.

“Meg, did I leave my phone behind this morning?”

She pointed to it lying on the sideboard.

“You did, and I tried to phone you, Phil, about the rocking horse.”

“Thank goodness for that – I thought I’d lost it! You will never guess,” Phil said, dropping down on a kitchen chair, “how much it went for.”

“A thousand pounds?” Meg suggested nonchalantly.

“Oh.” Phil felt momentarily deflated. He’d intended to keep her guessing. “Yes, spot on.

“Who’d have thought it? I bet there’s all sorts of stuff up in that loft, Meg. Pass me a cuppa, love.”

Meg sat down beside him and rested her hand on his arm.

“We had a visitor this afternoon. Someone had seen your card in the newsagent.”

“About the horse? That’s a pity. I took it down the other day.”

“Yes, I know. It was the owner of the riding stables in Green Lane,” Meg said.

“Ah, the school that caters for youngsters with disabilities. I know the one.” Phil went quiet.

“Yes, her name is Joyce. The thing is, Phil . . .”

Meg proceeded to tell her husband about Joyce’s visit and how much they had wanted the rocking horse.

She explained how she had tried to phone him, in the hopes he might have withdrawn it from the auction. Phil nodded.

“I would have, Meg. It always brings a lump to my throat when we see the youngsters out riding.

“They do fantastic work there.

“Maybe we could donate some of the money.”

Meg squeezed his arm. “The thing is, we can still give them the horse.”

“Eh?”

She looked at him steadily.

“The internet bidder was me. I bought it.”

Phil’s jaw dropped.

“You were the internet bidder? We bought our own rocking horse?”

“Sort of,” Meg said, hastily. “When I couldn’t reach you, we went on to the auctioneer’s website and the auction had already started.

“It only took a minute to register, and when the rocking horse came up, I started bidding.

“You see, the riding stables are really struggling with grants and could only afford two hundred pounds.

Meg took a deep breath, and continued.

“What Joyce and I agreed was that the stables would pay the auctioneer’s commission – which is one hundred and fifty pounds.

“So it won’t cost us anything, Phil. Except, of course, that one thousand that we don’t really need.”

Phil listened openmouthed, then pulled Meg up from the chair and gave her a hug.

“Meg Bailey! I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. You’re the only person I know who can make losing a thousand pounds sound like winning the jackpot.”

“It was rather clever, wasn’t it, Phil? We couldn’t think of any other way of doing it.”

“You did right, the pair of you. It’s a lovely idea. But to think I was sitting there cheering with each bid!”

****

Two days later they fetched the rocking horse from the auctioneers, paid the commission and headed for the riding stables.

Joyce and her partner Greg greeted them by the paddock, helped them to unload the rocking horse, and stood admiring him.

“He’s even more beautiful than the photograph!” Joyce exclaimed.

“We cleared some space for him in the tack room. And we have a first customer.”

Greg and Phil manhandled the toy horse into the tack room, where it fitted perfectly.

A mother and a youngster were waiting. “Here he is,” Joyce said. She crouched down by the child.

“What do you think, Ryan? Would you like to ride him?”

Ryan was aged eight, but very small for his age. He reached up to stroke the golden mane and nodded shyly.

His mother lifted him up and gently rocked the horse.

Ryan beamed a smile and mumbled, “Gee up!” to the delight and relief of all the adults.

Meg instinctively looped her arm through Phil’s and rested her head against his shoulder.

“You did the right thing,” Phil murmured, drawing her close.

Phil, Meg, Joyce and

Greg left the mother and child to their new-found entertainment and went out into the yard.

They were all a little emotional, and it took

Joyce to sum up their feelings.

“I can’t tell you,” she said, “what the sight of Ryan on the rocker means.

“I know it will build his confidence. He looked so happy.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” She broke off.

Greg stepped forward. “Yes, we are so very thankful to the pair of you.

“It seems a small thing, but the minute I spotted your advert, Phil, I knew it would make a difference.

“I suppose, working with young children all the time – you get a sixth sense.”

He reached into his back pocket.

“Before I forget, here’s your one hundred and fifty pounds.

“I feel rather guilty, you know. You’ve passed up a lot of money, Phil.”

He handed the envelope to Phil. Phil toyed with it for a couple of seconds before giving it back to Greg.

“There’s no need, Greg,” he said.

Greg looked alarmed. “But I insist!”

“No – I insist,” Phil countered. “I understand things are tight for you, and you really do such good work.

“Keep it with our blessing. The rocker won’t need feeding, but he will need some maintenance.”

Just then Ryan and his mother walked out of the tack room.

His mother spoke.

“Ryan loved it! I have never seen him so calm and so enthusiastic. Thank you all so much.”

“Can I give the horse a name, Mummy?” Ryan blurted out.

Ryan’s mother looked uncertainly at Greg and Joyce, who smiled and nodded.

“Of course, darling. What should we call him?” Ryan’s mother asked.

Ryan paused for only a second.

“I would like to call him Mr Bailey!”

****

That evening, Phil and Meg snuggled up on the sofa, enjoying a glass of wine.

“It’s not every day you get a horse named after you,” Phil declared, raising his glass.

“They did the right thing.” Meg laughed, echoing her husband’s oft-used expression.

“Behind that tough exterior, Phil Bailey, you really are a big softie. And I would have it no other way.”

“And you, my love, are a remarkable woman.

“Bidding against ourselves. I have never heard of anything so ridiculous!”

They clinked glasses, toasting both Mr Baileys, and settled down to enjoy their evening.

The End.