Vets in Love

by Cathy Woodman

  ‘I’ll find that too, and bring it over to you.’ Mum sighs. ‘What would you do without me and Sage?’

  ‘Thanks.’ I unbuckle Willow’s head-collar that Mum has left over her bridle to keep her tied to the lorry, and lead her across to the ramp, where I check the girth and stirrups before mounting, then I ride her over to the warm-up area. There’s no sign of Henry or Shane so far, although I know they’re both competing today, and I haven’t seen Matt. I tell myself that’s a good thing – it means I can concentrate.

  Willow is lively, spooking at blades of grass.

  ‘Do you mind?’ I sigh. ‘I have no wish to end up down there in the mud.’

  She isn’t listening. She trots an oval when I’m asking her for a circle and sticks her nose in the air when I ask her to flex her neck and come onto the bit. I don’t know about her looking like a donkey – at the moment, she feels like one.

  ‘I’m not sure what planet you’re on today,’ I grumble when she goes from donkey to racehorse in an instant, taking a sideways leap at the sight of a big brown leaf. ‘Come on, Willow. Pull yourself together.’

  ‘Having fun, Nicci?’ I turn to find Shane riding up beside us on a long-striding bay mare with a coppery sheen to her coat. ‘Remember to breathe,’ he adds with an encouraging smile. ‘Good luck.’

  ‘Same to you,’ I say as he passes by.

  In spite of an initial hiccup when Willow makes the unilateral decision to head away from the dressage arena instead of towards it when we’re first called, the test goes reasonably well. We have a bit of a wobble along the centre line and an early break into canter, but we’re back on track. Shane catches up with us again when we head towards the lorry.

  ‘Not bad,’ he says.

  ‘It could have been better,’ I say, patting Willow’s muscular neck.

  I walk her around for a few minutes, letting the reins through my fingers to the buckle so she can stretch and relax, while I watch Shane’s test from a distance. It isn’t often that I get the chance to see him ride, and it’s an education.

  I return to the lorry where Sage greets Willow with a mint and Mum throws a rug over her back to keep her warm.

  ‘Matt’s here,’ Sage says.

  ‘He’s made himself at home in the lorry – I told him to help himself to coffee.’

  ‘Hi, Nicci.’ Matt waves a mug at me. ‘Can I get you one?’

  ‘Thanks, but no, I can’t face eating or drinking anything.’

  ‘You can see why I don’t understand your passion for the sport, if you can call it a sport,’ he says. ‘What fun is there in being that nervous?’

  ‘I live for the adrenaline rush.’

  ‘Nicci depends on it,’ Mum cuts in, then she adds, to my embarrassment, ‘mind you, it isn’t the only thing that makes her heart beat faster.’

  ‘Mum! Do you have to?’ I say as Matt blushes.

  ‘I’m trying to help you relax, love,’ she says. ‘You seem very tense today. Now, let me look after Willow. I’ve found the studs so I’ll put them in, and as soon as Shane’s done, you can go and walk the course with him.’

  Matt jumps down to the ground.

  ‘I’d better be off. Thanks for the coffee.’ He moves round and touches my back. ‘Good luck, Nicci. I’ll catch up with you later.’

  I change into a waterproof jacket with ‘Team Willow’ embroidered across the back, and join Shane to walk the showjumping course.

  ‘It’s a tight course,’ says Shane. ‘You’ll have to make sure you keep the rhythm on the corners. And it’s kick, kick, kick at the double. It’s a bit of a stretch.’

  ‘If she jumps like she did last time, she’ll make it with feet to spare.’

  ‘Don’t get too cocky. How does it go? Pride comes before a fall.’

  ‘And pain comes after.’ I smile at his look of consternation before adding, ‘I made that bit up.’

  The sun comes out, catching the gleaming coloured poles of the show-jumps. There are a variety of fillers at the base of the fences, cat’s eyes, stars and flags, and a skinny – an ultra narrow fence of orange and black flames.

  ‘Be careful at the flames of desire.’ Shane is pleased with himself for making that description up. ‘You don’t want a run out towards the collecting ring. I see lover boy’s here – I hope he isn’t too much of a distraction.’

  ‘Ha ha,’ I say drily.

  ‘Good luck, VB.’

  Considering my state of mind, the jumping goes well. Both Shane and I jump clear, and we’re first and second with Henry in third place. I’m lying ahead of Shane, but there’s less than a penalty between us. No one can afford to make a mistake out on the cross-country course if they’re going to maintain their position.

  I ride back to the lorry park. Henry’s box is parked three down from mine.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ Henry says, riding up beside me. ‘A jumping donkey!’ He backs his horse up, jabbing it in the mouth with one hand on the reins. Willow puts her ears back and swishes her tail. I’m glad I’m not his girlfriend any more, and even happier I’m not one of his horses. ‘Behave!’ he says, digging it in the ribs with his spurs.

  ‘How’s Matt?’ he goes on.

  ‘You can ask him. He’s about somewhere.’

  ‘You still with him?’

  I nod, although it’s none of Henry’s business.

  ‘Even though Mel’s pregnant with his baby, allegedly.’

  ‘There’s no “allegedly” about it,’ I say, unhappy that Henry has raised a subject that’s never far from my mind. I don’t need any more reminders.

  ‘Matt’s certain then?’

  ‘Henry! You can’t help yourself, can you? Stop stirring.’ I pause.

  ‘Well, if it ever gets you down and you fancy some fun, no strings attached, you know where I am.’

  ‘Henry, if you were the last man on earth—’

  ‘All right.’ He grins. He’s weathering badly, his skin is like a fifty-year-old man’s. ‘It’s always worth a try.’ He looks past me where Shane is riding up towards us. ‘Oh, here’s your bit on the side. Hi Shaney, how’s it going?’

  ‘Hello, Henry. Good thanks.’ Shane asks his horse for a turn on the forehand, effectively pushing Henry out of the conversation.

  ‘I don’t know how you managed that dressage score, VB. I reckon the judge is blind.’ Shane is ragging me deliberately.

  ‘Ever the graceful loser,’ I tease back as Matt turns up too.

  ‘I’ve just come to wish my girlfriend luck,’ he says with a confident smile. He rests his hand briefly on my thigh. ‘Take care, Nicci.’

  By the time I’m ready to go it’s been raining hard for an hour, but the ground is still tolerable, although one or two of the take-offs are getting slippery. I canter Willow over the practice jump. The first time she’s hesitant, which isn’t like her and I wonder if she’s trying to tell me something. I trot her in a couple of circles. Is she sound? I’m not sure. I wonder if I have time to call for Matt – I thought he might have come down to the start to see us off, but he isn’t here – but when Willow jumps a second time her blood is up and she flies it with ease.

  Deciding that there’s nothing to worry about, apart from my overactive imagination, I keep the horse moving while I wait for the starter to call us into the box. I check the fastenings on my air vest and loosen the medic alert band on my arm to allow the blood to circulate, while the rain begins to seep through my jodhpurs and gloves.

  ‘You’re next,’ calls the starter, and I ride Willow into the start box built from white posts and rails. I wait for the countdown – three, two, one and we’re off. I squeeze her sides and she springs forward, taking a confident hold of the bit. I give her a quick pull back to remind her that I’m the one calling the shots and we take up a good steady ground-covering gallop towards the first fence, a big log with advertising sponsor boards on each side, red flag to the right and white to the left, after which we take the broad swing right up the hill between the trees
and spectators.

  Willow gets into her rhythm and I’m beginning to enjoy it, in spite of the rain in my face and the wind in my ears. Willow makes nothing of the open ditch, the palisade or the bullfinch, jumping bravely through the brush protruding out of the solid base, relying on my assurance that the landing is safe because she can’t see it as she approaches.

  I pat her neck to thank her before galloping on down the hill, this time to the water jump – a complex of obstacles, arranged around an artificial lake. Remembering my discussions with Shane last night, I take the quicker but trickier line because I’m in this to win it, not to come second or third. I wonder about taking a pull as we’re hurtling across the grass towards the log into the water but decide to let Willow go. Unlike some horses, she has no fear of water and she doesn’t hesitate.

  I count down the strides. ‘Three, two—’

  Something goes wrong.

  Willow loses her footing, sliding towards the base of the log, and for a split second I’m not sure if she’s going to stop or go. I hold on tight, throwing her the reins to let her recover herself, which she does, hurling herself over the fence, but she’s lost too much momentum and catches one or both hindlegs. I don’t know which because we’re both falling, me first and Willow second, the horse catching up with me as she topples into the water, so close I can see the flash of iron shoes travelling past my eyes as I try to roll myself into a ball, but the air vest’s gone off with a pop and I’m like a beached marshmallow.

  Willow catches me, crushing my chest and squeezing the breath out of my lungs. Then she’s gone and I’m trying to get up and I can see my poor brave horse on her side flailing in the water.

  I struggle to grab the reins to help her up, but I’m in agony, hurting all over, my legs are dead and my head is swimming and I just can’t get there, but I can see the pain and terror in her eyes and the red flare of her nostrils. I can hear people yelling, and there’s someone in the water with me, pulling me out onto the bank.

  ‘I can’t breathe,’ I gasp.

  ‘Hang on in there, Nicci.’ It’s Matt’s voice, sounding rather distant. ‘I’m going to take care of Willow. Don’t worry – everything’s going to be all right.’

  I’m aware of a curtain of rain and tears falling across my eyes.

  My beautiful horse hauls herself up with a grunt of effort onto her feet, but when she moves forward, she can barely touch one of her front feet to the ground. The last thing I remember is her limping away with someone at her side. My cross-country colours are sticking to my limbs and I’m shivering, my teeth chattering uncontrollably, the sound knocking around inside my skull. Someone – I’m not sure who – places a shiny silver survival blanket over me, but I still can’t breathe for the pain concentrating in my chest, and the blanket feels so heavy I tear it off.

  As soon as I get rid of it, it’s back again and my mother’s voice, calm but edged with panic, says, ‘Keep still, darling. The doctor wants to stabilise your neck before they move you.’

  ‘She’s a doctor,’ Mum says, ‘so she understands what you’re saying.’

  ‘I’ve called for the air ambulance,’ someone says. ‘It’s on its way.’

  I feel so stupid and embarrassed, and I can’t stop the tears of pain and frustration trickling down my face. They’ve held the other riders on the course and now everyone has to wait for me because I didn’t take a pull on the way into the fence, because I didn’t listen to what Willow was saying to me before we set off. I should have withdrawn her from the competition. It wasn’t worth risking her neck and mine. I’ve let Willow down. I’ve let everyone down.

  I overhear anxious voices.

  ‘We need to get the horse out of the way before we can land the helicopter. There isn’t time to wait for the horse ambulance and we’re worried about its welfare. We can’t force her to walk far on three legs, so we’re thinking of getting the screens up.’

  My immediate reaction is that they’re going to shoot her.

  I grab wildly for my mother’s arm. Don’t let Matt put her down, I try to say, but no sound comes out of my mouth. Mum answers with a weak smile. She doesn’t get it, does she? If Willow dies, life will not be worth living.

  My heart flutters with panic because I can’t communicate with her, with anyone, and I’m beginning to fade from pain and shock and lack of oxygen. I think I’m dying.

  I drift in and out of consciousness, high on painkillers, and I have no idea how much time passes until I wake in a bed in a hospital ward with my mother at my side, holding my hand.

  ‘How long?’ I mutter.

  ‘Sh, Nicci. You’ve been here for twenty-four hours.’

  ‘How can that be?’ I gaze up at the fluorescent strip-lights. ‘I’ve lost a whole day.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter because you’re going to be fine.’ Mum purses her mouth. Her face is lined with anxiety and I wish I hadn’t put her through this. ‘Can you remember what happened?’

  ‘I came off,’ I say hesitantly because I’m not sure how much I want to remember. ‘Where’s Matt?’

  ‘Matt? He’s at work, but he’ll be here later. I promised I’d let him know as soon as you woke up.’

  ‘I can do that. Where’s my mobile?’

  ‘It’s in my bag. Just a minute – I’ll find it.’

  I shift my body to sit myself up, but sharp pain grabs at one side of my chest, making me cry out.

  ‘Here, let me help you.’ Mum slides another pillow behind my head and presses a button at the side of my bed, raising the end. I’m, in a ward with three other beds surrounded by grey metal rails from which hang royal blue curtains. To my left is a window with a view of the sky. ‘You’re going to be all right, darling. You had a knock on the head. You’ve fractured your collarbone and a couple of ribs, and bruised your spine, but the doctors say you’ll make a full recovery.’ She gives a small smile.

  ‘How is Willow?’

  ‘Matt’s dealing with her.’

  ‘So she’s still alive.’ I sink back into the pillow. Thank goodness … I thought they were going to shoot her.’

  Mum reaches for my hand. ‘You mustn’t worry.’

  ‘I need to know how she is. Is she badly hurt?’

  ‘She’s injured her leg, but we don’t know how severe the damage is yet.’

  ‘Will she have to be put down?’

  ‘Let’s concentrate on getting you better.’

  This implies that the horse requires some ‘getting better’ as well, so there is something really wrong. Now I know exactly how frustrating it is when members of the medical profession won’t tell you anything.

  ‘Matt will be able to tell you more.’ Mum takes my mobile. ‘Can I?’

  When I nod, another sharp pain sears its way up my neck. She says she’s going to call my sister to let her know how I am.

  ‘You’re speaking to Cheska?’ I say, surprised.

  Mum smiles ruefully. ‘I’m speaking to Cheska, but it’s all about you. We haven’t touched on anything else, but it’s a start.’ Her voice is filled with an expectation that I hope is not misplaced. ‘Maybe there really is a silver lining to every cloud. Perhaps this will bring us together and I’ll have my other daughter and my grandchildren back.’ She pauses. ‘Oh, it’s too soon to be dreaming about that. Nicci, you being here is enough.’ She nods towards the entrance to the ward where a man is trying to get through the door with an enormous bouquet of flowers. ‘I’ll leave you two to it.’

  ‘Nicci. Thank God.’ Matt leans down and kisses me on the cheek, puts the flowers on one of the chairs beside the bed and sits down on the other. He looks exhausted, his cheeks hollow and dark shadows beneath his eyes, but my heart lifts and my aches and pains diminish – he’s more effective than any painkiller. However, his presence has a side effect – it reminds me of my horse.

  ‘Matt, how’s Willow?’

  ‘Hey, first things first. How are you?’

  ‘I’ll feel a lot better when someone – i.
e. you—’ I prod him lightly in the arm ‘—tells me how my horse is, because I’m really scared that something terrible has happened to her.’

  ‘Well, like you, she’s in hospital. Don’t worry, I’ve made sure she has the best stable in the yard, a room with a view.’

  ‘So she’s alive?’

  ‘I can categorically state that when I last saw her thirty minutes ago, she was on her feet. I can prove it,’ he says. He pulls out his mobile phone and shows me a picture of Willow in a stable with the deepest bed of shavings I’ve ever seen. She’s wearing a stable rug and picking at hay in a net.

  ‘But? There is a but,’ I say, gazing at the massive bandage on Willow’s front leg.

  Matt nods. ‘She’s torn a tendon, so I’ve put the Robert Jones dressing on to give her some support and discourage her from using the limb too much while we decide what to do.’

  ‘Which tendon is it?’

  ‘One of the tendons in the back of her lower leg.’

  ‘You don’t have to dumb it down for me.’

  ‘All right, it’s a significant tear in the DDF, deep digital flexor tendon.’

  ‘Did it happen when she fell, or could she have had the beginnings of a tear before? I thought she was slightly off on the right fore in the warm-up area, but I ignored it.’

  ‘We’ll never know for sure, but yes, it is possible. I thought the organisers should have stopped the event. I know they were under pressure, but it’s too much of a risk with the ground as it was. They could at least have taken the water jump out – the approach was getting pretty boggy by the time you were on the course.’ Matt pauses. ‘I didn’t want you to set out in the first place, rain or no rain.’

  ‘If I’d listened to what she was telling me and if I hadn’t pushed her, she might have been all right.’

  ‘It’s no use beating yourself up. It’s a pointless argument.’ Matt strokes my hand. ‘Anyway, we’ll talk about the options for Willow later. You need to rest.’

  ‘I can’t rest if I’m worrying about her. I thought you might have—’ My lip trembles and I can no longer speak.

  Matt smiles softly. ‘I can’t put her down, can I, not without the owner’s permission.’