Free The Wish Pony by Catherine Bateson Page B

horse has anything to do with your mother going into premature labour, do you?’
    â€˜Yes,’ I said, ‘yes, that’s exactly what I think. I wished it and he made it come true. He’s not just glass, Magda, you know that. He feels warm when you touch him and sometimes I can almost hear him whinny.’
    â€˜He’s still just an ornament,’ Magda said almost angrily, ‘and I won’t take him back. He’s yours now. I suggest you wish harder to undo the wish you’ve made – if you believe in that nonsense. Also, you might try to do some good deeds to make up for the nasty little thoughts you’ve been thinking. That should put the universe back in balance.’
    â€˜I didn’t mean to think nasty thoughts. I didn’t know anyone was listening.’ I glared at Magda. ‘I didn’t want this to happen.’
    â€˜A little tiny bit of you must have,’ Magda said calmly, ‘otherwise you wouldn’t have wished for it.’
    My heart stuttered. Magda was right. A little bit of me, the thoughtless, selfish bit, had wanted … not for this exactly, but certainly not to have a brother. Or, not even not to have a brother, but not to have all the changes that having a brother involved.
    â€˜I’m as bad as Mary from The Secret Garden ,’ I told her, ‘before she became nice. I’m worse, really, because Mum and Dad do love me.’
    â€˜Oh, Ruby, you’ve just hit a little rough patch, that’s all. It can happen to anyone. Anyway, you can change things – Mary changed.’
    â€˜With the help of a garden, not to mention the robin and Dickon.’
    â€˜Well, there you go. That’s all you need. Go and get the Wish Pony and start wishing – you want things to go well with your mum and you want a garden.’
    As if that was going to work. But I did what Magda told me, holding on hard to the Wish Pony. I wasn’t sure about wishing for a garden but it couldn’t hurt. I needed all the help I could get.
    Magda made a cup of tea.
    â€˜Probably shouldn’t have caffeine,’ she said, turning the tea pot three times, ‘after yoga. It seems contradictory. But there you are. People are complex.’
    I fetched Mum’s good tea cup without her even asking and watched her drink two cups in silence.
    â€˜So – any luck?’ she asked, tipping the tea leaves into the compost bin.
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Well, not with your mum, of course, not so soon. But with the garden?’
    â€˜Oh, no. I don’t think so.’
    â€˜Well, let’s go out and have a look, shall we? What would you like in this secret garden?’
    â€˜Magda, it’s dark, and the garden wouldn’t be for me,’ I said following her out. ‘It would be for Mum. A secret garden for her. Somewhere she could sit. A bit of sun and a bit of shade. Flowers. Not just ferns everywhere. Some pretty flowers for her to look at while she nurses the … my brother.’
    â€˜Now you’re thinking,’ Magda said approvingly, ‘that’s my girl! Pass me that torch.’
    In my hand, the Wish Pony seemed to give a little shiver, the kind you make when someone scratches you in exactly the right place. I didn’t tell Magda. If she wanted to think he was just an ornamental horse, she could.
    â€˜Pansies,’ I said, remembering Mum’s collage, ‘she likes pansies. Look, Magda – there’s a spot under the lillypilly tree. Do you think we could put pansies in a pot somewhere near there?’
    The lillypilly tree was on next door’s property, but shaded our side of the fence. On our side, a group of tall tree ferns arrowed up until they ended in a crown of fronds. There was just enough space between them and the next group for a couple of wide pots of flowers and a chair.
    â€˜I don’t see why not,’ Magda said, waving the torch around and catching a possum in its