Rat Catchers

Grand Hotel

Rose's tenth birthday had been, bar none, the best birthday she'd ever had; especially since she'd had very low expectations. She'd not seen her father for days. He'd been holed up in his office, she presumed; but, to be honest, she wasn't sure he was in the house at all. He could have been in Africa and she wouldn't have known any different.

So, when he woke her at the crack of dawn and told her to dress and come downstairs as quickly and quietly as she could, the surprise of it had been enough to make her day. They slipped from the house silently and made their way down to the stable in the half-light.

The two horses greeting them with cloudy, huffing breaths were due to leave the next day, to go somewhere to be trained and hopefully do well on the track and make some money; they weren't even named yet, even though they were grown and huge.

Her father put reigns on them, not bothering with saddles or bridles, and Rose stepped into his hands to get up.

"What're we doing?" she asked.

"We're running away," Tommy said with a rare smile. "Day off, you and me."

Rose had grown a grin so enormous, it actually hurt her face.

And then, just as he'd said, they ran away. Galloped off across the fields in no particular direction, racing each other through the clouds of early morning fog rising off the damp grass, the horses delighted at being out and Rose so happy she couldn't help but scream.

By the time they started thinking about breakfast, an apple orchard magically appeared in the distance. They rode up to it, Tommy tossed Rose a small bag and Rose climbed from horseback to fence, then fence to tree.

"Not those, Rosie," her father called when she made to pick the fruit above her. "Top ones are nicer, ay, closer to the sun."

She gave him a skeptical look.

"It's a fact," he said. "Go on, up you go."

So, Rose climbed higher, then a little higher and then as high as she possibly could and started filling the bag, grudgingly admitting to herself that the apples up here did look better. She'd only just started when a sharp whistle from below got her attention.

"We've friends coming," her father shouted up to her.

Sure enough, there was some angry shouts approaching from somewhere amongst the trees and Rose started to scramble down the tree at top speed. She lost her grip once or twice and scraped down parts of the trunk, but it took her no time at all until she swung from a low branch straight onto the horse, bypassing the fence entirely. They were off before anyone could object to their choice of breakfast, Rose giggling like a mad thing.

They rode down to the river, let the horses have a break, sat in the slowly warming sun and ate apples.

"That looks a sore one," Tommy said as Rose stretched her legs out in the grass, revealing a ripped stocking and a long, bloody scratch underneath.

"Nah," she said. "Must've got snagged on a twig or bark or somethin'. Not sore at all."

Her father smiled, bit into his apple and lay back; Rose did the same.

"Nice day for it," she said through a mouthful of apple.

"Stealing apples and scradging yourself to ribbons?" Tommy asked.

"You need ribbons on your birthday," Rose said drily. "And these-" she admired her half-eaten apple "-are as good as cake. Maybe better."

"Is that right, now?" Her father's hand snaked across and found her hair. "So, you've got your cakes and you've got your ribbons. What else d'you need?"