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  Everything else, including Kizzy, melted into the background. He listened to the beat of the music and remembered each part of their rehearsals. Raluca seemed to know how important this was too. He held his head high and arched his neck. Jakob felt the power running through the stallion’s muscles. This is what they were meant to do.

  Kizzy and Jakob were only in the quadrille. When it had finished, they both smiled as they rode out of the arena and stood to one side.

  ‘See, told you we could do it,’ Kizzy teased.

  Jakob grinned.

  As the music finished, two by two they rode up the centre. The stallions walked in unison, stopping in front of General Patton. All riders doffed their bicorne hats and bowed. The General returned the compliment. They lined up in the grass.

  The Director moved forward and spoke to General Patton. Jakob couldn’t hear what was being said. He and Raluca were standing at the edge of the line-up, too far away. Jakob’s heart was in his mouth. The General looked very serious, but other than that no emotion flickered across his face. The Director finished talking and the General merely got up and walked away, Major Wright hurrying beside him.

  The Director turned to the riders. ‘Everyone dismissed. We’ve done what we can. It’s now in the General’s hands. Go and sort your horses out, then the Countess has provided lunch for you all.’

  ‘He seemed quite flat,’ said Jakob.

  ‘You’re imagining things.’ Kizzy let her legs hang out of the stirrups. Undoing the buttons on her jacket, she pulled her collar undone. ‘Thank goodness for that, I can breathe again.’

  ‘Get going, you two,’ shouted Heinz. ‘Get these horses settled. Once you’ve eaten, I want you to come back out and polish the tack.’

  Jakob let the reins hang loose and leant down into Raluca’s neck, breathing in more of his wonderful horse smell from his mane. ‘Thank you, you were just perfect.’

  Raluca snorted.

  ‘It’s going to be all right, isn’t it?’

  The stallion nickered this time.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’

  After lunch Jakob found his way back down to the stables. Raluca whickered a welcome. He nudged Jakob gently with his muzzle, snuffling at his hands and pockets.

  ‘What are you looking for? I haven’t got anything for you.’ Jakob leant his head against Raluca’s. It was good to listen to his breathing. The sound of contented horses munching at their feed surrounded him. It calmed him. ‘Lunch wasn’t much fun, boy, everyone was a bit quiet. Apparently General Patton thought it was strange that we were teaching horses to wiggle their butts, whatever that means. I don’t think it is a compliment. I’m just pleased to get away.’

  He breathed in deeply. The stables smelt good, saddle soap and linseed oil mixed with Raluca’s own distinct smell. So many memories. He closed his eyes briefly as many thoughts slipped into his head, danced around and left. ‘Do you think I performed like a Cadet today? Do you think Allegra would be proud of us?’

  Raluca snorted.

  ‘We worked so hard to get you all across the mountains, to safety. If we could just do the same for the mares. We can’t lose them.’

  Raluca lowered his head.

  ‘This General person must save them. Whatever he thinks of us. He just must!’ He scratched the horse’s neck.

  ‘Oh, must I?’ A voice made Jakob jump. He spun round to see General Patton stepping out of the shadows.

  Surprised Jakob said, ‘You speak German? I speak a little English.’

  ‘I speak some German. But I’m impressed you can speak English. That’s what I’d rather we use.’ He turned towards the stallion.

  ‘Hello, boy.’ The General put his hand out for Raluca to sniff before he moved forward and started to stroke the horse. There was a deep-set dimple in his chin. His mouth was set hard, but his eyes softened when he looked at Raluca. Jakob decided that if Raluca liked him, that must make him a good person.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, it’s just…’

  The General spoke across him. ‘Let’s get some facts straight. I’d rather watch these horses than look at a painting or listen to music. I heard you brought these horses across the mountains?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Why?’

  For a moment, Jakob contemplated this question. ‘Because the horses needed protecting and I owe Herr Engel and the Director.’

  Raluca lifted his head again and nudged the General, who smiled fleetingly at the touch. ‘They are certainly beautiful animals. What do you mean you owe them?’ He stared at Jakob. ‘Can I trust you? Why aren’t you fighting for the Germans?’

  The question took Jakob aback. It felt like he was being interrogated.

  ‘I’m too young to fight, sir, and anyway they wouldn’t let me.’ He hesitated. Should he say this? Did Americans have a problem with Jews too? He took a gulp of air.

  The General glanced at him, seemingly aware that there was more to this story. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, encouraging Jakob to continue.

  ‘I’m unclean. I’m a Jew.’

  General Patton looked confused. ‘What the… What do you mean? Where are your parents?’

  ‘I believe they were taken in 1938. We assume they went to one of the labour camps we’ve heard about, but I’ve no idea if they’re dead or alive. The Nazis round Jews up like cattle. The Director and Herr Engel hid me in the Spanish Riding School to keep me safe, then when it became too dangerous in Vienna, the Director sent Herr Engel with me and some of the stallions, out to a farm.’

  Jakob turned to Raluca, praying that the tears gathering in the corner of his eyes wouldn’t fall. ‘It was all right until a new SS officer arrived. He wanted to see my papers. He shot one of the horses, my Allegra. We couldn’t risk staying.’

  Jakob sniffed and wiped his eyes, grateful when he saw the General look away.

  ‘And the girl? Is she your sister?’

  ‘Kizzy? No, she joined us when we were travelling. She’s Roma, so unclean too. The SS killed her parents while she watched. She was hiding up a tree. Bauer, the SS officer who killed the horse, came here the other day. He was after us again.’ Jakob half smiled. ‘Hopefully we’re safe now you’ve arrived.’

  General Patton looked serious.

  Jakob pushed at the straw on the stable floor with his boot. ‘Sir, the mares in Hostau, they’ve done nothing wrong. Who knows what might happen to them. Everyone deserves to feel safe and free.’

  The General stopped stroking Raluca’s neck and looked straight at Jakob. He cleared his throat. ‘Jakob, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re the first person to talk sense to me and to explain why I should help. You’ve shown me why the horses really matter, not just for dancing. See, you love horses as much as I do, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Jakob was not sure exactly what he meant. The American twang made it difficult for him to understand but he concentrated hard.

  ‘I think you’ve just convinced this old General to go and save those horses. What did you say again? Everyone…’

  ‘Everyone deserves to be free and feel safe, even horses.’

  General Patton nodded and marched out of the stall.

  Jakob stood staring at the retreating General’s back. ‘Raluca, did I just save the mares?’

  The horse snorted and pushed at him.

  ‘All right, all right, I know,’ Jakob laughed. ‘We saved them together, didn’t we? We all saved them, saved them all!’

  Note: This story is a piece of fiction. However, the US army did rescue Lipizzaner horses from Hostau in a mission called Operation Cowboy. This is an interpretation. An idea. A thought. It is how people who love horses and care about people might just have behaved in a time of fear and desperation before that operation happened.

  Acknowledgements

  Writing acknowledgements are so hard, there is always a fear you are going to miss someone because writing a book is never a solitary thing, so if I
have, please forgive me. First, I’d like to thank Imogen Cooper for being a great friend but also for giving me the courage and head space to write Flight. Imogen was also Flight’s first editor, challenging me always to make it better. I trust her with my life and my stories. Thanks, Imi!

  Secondly, many years ago Andrew Melrose told me my place was in writing for children. He was right. Thank you, Andy! Like Andy, Judy Waite and Judith Heneghan have been hugely influential and fantastic friends, providing amazing support and encouragement throughout all these years. I couldn’t have done without you. In fact, I wouldn’t be here without the University of Winchester who introduced me to writing for children. I thank them and, of course, all my colleagues, who are a constant source of inspiration and support.

  Thank you to the Golden Egg Academy (GEA), the inspiration of Imogen Cooper. Through it I’ve met and worked with some amazing people. I want to thank everyone there; Abi, who is a star; all the editors and the Eggs, particularly my own who I love dearly. A special thank you to Kathryn Kettle Macdonald and Karen Taylor. You both know why. GEA is a fabulous organisation for aspiring writers. Flight would not be here if it wasn’t for them and Imogen.

  Extra special thanks must go to: Vashti Hardy, James Nicol and Jennifer Killick for answering numerous daft questions and being a constant support; Sue Eves, a star for taking some amazing photographs and being at the end of twitter whenever needed; Jen Morgan, for being crazy; my rock, Debbie Welham, who’s permanently on the end of a text message – there are no words for how much she does; Sally Ballet and Chris, who after thirty plus years of friendship, deserve medals.

  Thanks also go to Imogen’s Rafi, Patrick Kempe and Tetũa, Barry Cunningham, Mel Newman, Barbara Loester, Nikki Puckey, Leonie Lipton, Stephanie Spencer, Nancy Rosoff, Jen Webb, Tony Eaton, Melvin Burgess, Tim Bowler, Lucy Coats, Cathy Cassidy, Meg Rosoff, Alex Campbell, Sophia Bennett, Tanya Landman, MG Leonard, Rowena House, Eddie Hardaker, Eve Fradgley, my specialist nurse Carolyn Best, and so many people who offered advice and support in many different ways throughout. Writing can be a lonely occupation. It is wonderful to be surrounded by such incredible people.

  Flight wouldn’t be published if it wasn’t for the faith and belief of Penny Thomas and Janet Thomas. They make working with Firefly Press so easy and positive. I’m so grateful to be with such a dynamic and forward-thinking publisher that really cares.

  I’ve been part of SCBWI for over ten years. It’s a great group that always supports and inspires. It’s wonderful to share this with my fabulous SCBWI Critique group: Nicky Schmidt, Kathryn Evans, Jeannie Waudby, Pat Walsh, Jackie Marchant, Ellen Renner. Also Carmel Waldron, who sadly passed away earlier this year, far too soon. Candy Gourlay was also a member of the group when I first joined so I count her as an honorary member! They’ve seen me through some tough times.

  Finally, I must thank my huge family. Thank you for willingly answering my random questions. I’m so grateful that you all have such eclectic and useful jobs! I wish my parents were alive to see this book being published but am thankful that they always encouraged us to be whoever we wanted to be. The biggest thanks must go to my children, who have stuck by me through thick and thin. It’s not always been easy for us, but they’ve always been there and believed in me. Lastly, a mention for the little people in our lives, they make me smile every day: Noah and Zachary, as well as Bridget and Seb. Love you x

  First published in 2018

  by Firefly Press

  25 Gabalfa Road, Llandaff North, Cardiff, CF14 2JJ

  www.fireflypress.co.uk

  Copyright © Vanessa Harbour 2018

  The author asserts her moral right to be identified as author in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form, binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record of this book is available

  from the British Library.

  ISBN 9781910080771

  This book has been published with the support of

  the Welsh Books Council.