Chapter 19
Harvey led me across the road to wander up into Linda Hastings station. We leaped over some hedges, past red alpacas and the four-horned black Jacob's ram who, in the dream world, appeared to act as some kind of guardian. The white pony waited, devoid of a saddle, in front of the window Linda used as a guest room.
I dismounted Harvey and touched the white pony's head where a deep scar marred her coat just beneath her forelock. She was a small pony, perfectly sized for a girl Pippa's age, with a sweet face and a bit of grey. I rubbed her soft, grey muzzle which felt surprisingly corporeal for a dream-horse.
"Where's your mummy?" I looked around for the honey-haired girl, but ever since Adam's mother had handed me the white pony's reins, there had been no sign of the ghost ride
