Page 125 - Mobile Magic

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‘Goood girrl,’ Saffron purred, soothing her prancing pony, ‘if you weren’t so sensible, we might have jumped through their windscreen! Those drop-kicks wouldn’t think that was so hilarious.’
A small subdivision, with blocks between ten and a hundred acres, Thornhill had about eight different roads. Riding along a bridle-trail which wound over a low bush-covered hill, Saffron was slapped across the face by the overhanging branch of some pretty, yellow-flowered teatree which grew on both sides of the path. She swore and muttered, ‘I can see how this place got its name’. Her hand went up to her face and came away with blood on it from a couple of deep scratches down her cheek.
The roads in the subdivision had wide, smooth verges. ‘It would be great to live here,’ she told Magic, ‘Plenty of room for you. Which house do you think Mitch lives in?’ There were all sorts of houses, some great, sprawling mansions and some small, timber, iron or mud brick cottages. One thing the residents seemed keen on doing was planting trees, which gave the houses a lot of privacy. ‘You know, Magic, my brother could make all the noise he wanted out here, without the neighbours complaining.’
They continued down the road until they came to a gateway with a carved sign which said, Thornhill Pony Club, and just below it there was taped a piece of cardboard informing them that a rally day would be held on Sunday. ‘It’s a pity it’s not on today, let’s explore!’