Vets and Pets 2: Jamie and the Horse Show. Helen Brain

except I’m Liberty Barker-Polls now. I married Roddy Barker-Polls – you might have read about him in the papers – big businessman?”

      “Good Lord,” said Arabella, taking a step back and examining the glamorous woman. “You look fantastic. I didn’t recognise you.”

      “We were all puppy fat and frizzy hair back in seventh grade, weren’t we,” Liberty chortled. “I have to say you haven’t changed a bit. And this must be your daughter.”

      Jamie did a double take. Did the woman just insult them?

      “This is my daughter, Shardonnay,” Liberty said, pushing the girl forward. “Darling, this is my oldest friend, Arabella. Shardonnay just adores animals, don’t you?”

      “Pleased to meet you,” said Shardonnay, tossing back her long blond plait. “You’ve got something in your hair.”

      Arabella looked flustered. She grabbed a tissue from the counter and wiped off a blob of stinking goo. “This is my daughter, Jamie,” she said. “She’s been working for me today.”

      “We know each other,” Shardonnay said, wrinkling her perfect little nose. “I watched her lesson this week when I was waiting for mine. I thought you did quite well for a beginner.”

      “I’m not a beginner,” Jamie said, blushing furiously. “I’m the top rider at the school. It was that stupid pony I was riding.”

      “Ha-ha,” laughed Liberty. “Do you remember what Miss Jackson, the Domestic Science teacher, always said to us, Arabella? The poor workman always blames his tools. Remember how we used to laugh at her.”

      “That was my last patient,” Arabella said, checking the computer screen. “Would you like to come across to the house for a cup of tea?”

      “I’m terribly busy,” Liberty said, “but I suppose I can spare a few minutes.”

      Jamie’s heart sank. When Shardonnay saw how old and untidy her house was she was going to be even nastier, she knew. And her bedroom was littered with all the clothes and books and CDs she was trying to sell. She’d have to find a way to keep her out of her room.

      Liberty and Shardonnay followed them through the gate and across the lawn to their house. Arabella was showing them the patch of Snotterbel and explaining how healthy it was when Fungi came bouncing up to greet them, barking joyfully, followed by a drooping Fifi.

      “Eeeeuw,” squealed Shardonnay as Fungi jumped up and put muddy paws on her white jeans. “Go away, go away.”

      “Ooh thith!” exclaimed Fifi. “Fungi thtinkth! He’th been rolling in thomething thmelly!”

      “Jamie, please shut your dog away,” Arabella snapped. “Look what he’s done to your friend’s pants.”

      “She’s not my friend,” muttered Jamie as she dragged Fungi off by the collar. How dare Fifi say he had been rolling in something? He didn’t smell. Then she brightened up. I know, she thought, I’ll shut him in my room. Then Shardonnay won’t be able to come in and criticise all my stuff.

      Liberty was looking around the messy hallway when Jamie came back downstairs. “Your house is so quaint,” she said, making the word sound like an infectious disease.

      Just then Toby came slouching in from chess club. He saw Shardonnay and his jaw dropped. He smoothed back his hair, flexed his biceps and stuck his skinny chest out.

      “Well, hello,” he said, trying to make his voice sound deep. “I’m Tobias. Who are you?”

      Shardonnay peeped at him from under her eyelashes and simpered. “I’m Shardonnay.”

      This girl is officially sick, Jamie decided. She had to be if she was flirting with Toby.

      “Jamie, we’re going to sit in the garden,” Arabella said. “Please, will you make us a pot of tea?”

      “I’ll do it, Mom,” Toby said, his voice sliding up into a squeak with excitement. “Do you want to give me a hand, Shardonnay?”

      “I’d love to,” she said, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

      “What a lovely boy,” Liberty said. “Not at all like your daughter, is he?”

      Jamie’s phone pinged as Shardonnay and Toby disappeared into the kitchen. Excellent! The advert had worked. Someone was coming to buy her old CDs and PC games. “Can you come in about an hour?” she texted back. Shardonnay should be gone by then. She seriously did not need Shardonnay knowing she was selling her old stuff to buy a horse. She’d never hear the end of it.