Penguin Books Australia

It wasn't the sort of place you'd expect to find a field, or a horse. It was just an ordinary street with houses and cars and shops. But Jerry had been in the field with his head hanging over the fence for years, ever since Martha had been coming to school, and even before that.

'Jerry's very, very old,' said Martha's mother. 'Look how his ribs stick out, the poor old thing.'

Sometimes they would stop on the way home from school and give Jerry a carrot. Jerry would amble over to them and snatch the carrot from Martha's hand with his big brown teeth, crunching and slobbering.

He wasn't exactly friendly. 'He's too old to be friendly,' said Martha's mother.

If Martha was feeling brave, she would carefully put up her hand and try to stroke Jerry's coat while he chewed on the carrot.

His hair felt hard and thick. Up close it looked yellow.

But Jerry didn't like to be stroked. He would snort and shift and toss his big head to shake her off. The sudden movement made Martha jump back.

'He's just cranky,' said Martha's mother. 'He's so old, that's all.'