by Stacy Gregg
“Well, that’s ages!” Stella laughed. Then she made another suggestion. “On Friday we’re going to have a lesson with Tom. We could ask him to make it at five to give you time to get there once you finish at work?”
“I don’t think that would work out,” Issie said, thinking about her last conversation with Avery. “I can’t make it, Stella. I’m sorry. With Verity gone, we all have to cover for her and I have loads of extra work. I’m too busy.”
It was true that she had extra work to do at Dulmoth Park. Issie was riding seven or eight horses most days. Flame was still behaving badly and Issie seemed to spend all her time in the arena fighting with the big chestnut. Her worst moment was during another rapping lesson on Wednesday when Flame got so over the top he simply ran through the entire course, demolishing all the jumps!
Ginty decided that he needed more aerobic exercise to take the edge off his high spirits and so the riders spent Thursday and Friday taking the horses out into the forest for big, long rides with lots of trotting to work off their excess energy. Verity still hadn’t been replaced, but the others hardly noticed her absence. Issie found herself actually enjoying the extra responsibility too. Ginty would spend some time with her each morning explaining a different aspect of stable care. Instead of being baffled by the huge array of feeds and supplements that the horses were given, Issie now knew each of the thirty horses’ diet plans off by heart. She could icepack tired legs and apply a cooling clay poultice without thinking twice. And there wasn’t a piece of equipment in the tack room that she didn’t know how to use.
The atmosphere in the stable was more cheerful and relaxed with Verity gone, too. Issie had thought that Natasha might wig out and get jealous that Issie was taking on some of Verity’s main responsibilities, but she remained in a good mood. Natasha was happy with the six horses that she had been assigned to ride, and she couldn’t have given a hoot as long as she didn’t have to do extra work.
On the Saturday morning Issie rose at four thirty, even earlier than usual. It hardly seemed worth going to bed when you were getting up like this in the middle of the night, Issie thought. But that was the life of a professional rider. Today they were taking seven of the horses to the Westfields show. It was a two-hour drive to get there so they needed to leave by 6 a.m. That meant having all the horses ready to be loaded with their gear before it got light.
At the stables, Issie did the hard feeds before anything else. She fed Flame last and stood there watching as the big chestnut snuffled down his feed.
“You’re going to go well today,” Issie said softly to the horse, “I know you are…”
“Issie?” It was Natasha. “I think you need to come and take a look at Tottie.”
Tottie was one of Issie’s horses now, and for the past week she had been riding the grey mare every day. She’d jumped the mare on Thursday over some low fences just to get a feel for her, and on Friday she’d taken her on a long road hack. Tottie had been fine then, in fact the mare was so fit she was a bit above herself, pulling hard and wanting to canter the whole way home. But that morning was quite different. Tottie was standing quietly in the corner and when Natasha went in and led her over towards the door Issie could see straight away that she was favouring a leg.
“It’s her near-hind,” she said. “She’s really sore on it.”
“What shall we do?” Natasha asked.
“Don’t bother to put her floating boots on,” Issie said. “She won’t be going anywhere. She can’t compete like that.”
“OK,” Natasha nodded.
“I’ll tell Ginty that there are only going to be six horses for the truck,” Issie said.
Ginty’s reaction, however, was not at all what Issie expected.
“Put her protective gear on and load her on-board,” Ginty said firmly.
“But she’s lame—” Issie began. Ginty ignored her and grabbed the paperwork off her office desk, barging past and leaving Issie in her wake.
“Load her on the truck,” she said darkly over her shoulder, as she headed off towards the stables. “And don’t question me again.”
“But what’s the point of loading her up if she’s lame?” Natasha asked when Issie told her what Ginty had said.
“I don’t know,” Issie said as she Velcroed Tottie’s floatboots on to her hind legs. “But I do know I’m not saying anything to her about it again. She’s the boss. If she wants to take a lame horse to the show, that’s her business.”
Aside from Ginty’s frosty behaviour over Tottie, the trainer seemed to be in good spirits. She laughed and joked with the girls as they loaded the horses on the truck for the long drive to the Westfields grounds. Natasha and Penny were in the back with the horses this time and Issie rode up front in the cab with Ginty.
It was the first time Issie had really had the chance to talk to her boss, and she found herself telling the trainer all about her own horses. Not just Comet and Blaze, but Nightstorm too. Ginty was fascinated when Issie told her about Blaze’s son, and how the colt was in Spain right now, training with the famed Spanish Andalusians, learning haute école dressage under the direction of the mysterious Francoise D’arth.
“He sounds like a very special young horse,” Ginty said.
“He really is,” Issie said wistfully. “I miss him so much, but it was the right thing to do, leaving him there at El Caballo Danza Magnifico. Francoise has promised that one day, when Nightstorm’s training is completed, he’ll be returned to me. It’s just that sometimes it feels like that day is never going to come.”
Ginty told a few stories of her own about her showjumping exploits over the years and her early days as a competitive rider.
“I would load up five horses by myself and head off to a show,” she told Issie. “Most of them were green good-for-nothings that I’d bought cheap. I’d clean them up, clip them and rug them, give them a good groom, pull their manes and plait them. I’d put a month of effort into schooling them up and then I’d take them to the shows, win a few ribbons and flick them on for a few thousand and turn a tidy profit. That was the way I got started in this business. It was hard graft, but eventually I had enough money and enough of a reputation behind me to get owners who wanted to sponsor me. After that I could afford the better horses and success quickly followed.”
Ginty looked out of the window at the road ahead. “I dragged myself up by my bootstraps. I’ve worked hard for everything I’ve got…” Issie saw a cold expression on the trainer’s face as she added, “Only the tough survive in this game—and winning is everything.”
It was almost 8 a.m. when Ginty finally drove the truck into the showgrounds and already the place was filling up fast with competitors’ floats and trucks.
The girls unloaded the horses, unwrapped their tail bandages, took off floating boots and began to groom them. They knew the ropes now and Ginty didn’t need to tell them what to do. By eight thirty they were almost ready, so Ginty sent her three riders off to walk the showjumping course.
There were four rings set up at Westfields. Issie was riding Flame in the novice hack ring and Quebec in the pony ring, and had been entered in the open hack ring on Tottie — not that she was actually expecting to ride the mare now that she was lame.
Natasha had Tokyo as her open ride and also Baxter, who had been entered along with Quebec in the pony ring. Penny was riding Vertigo in the open class and would also ride Sebastian.
“Since we’ve all got a horse entered in the open classes, let’s walk that course together, and then we can split up and you can walk the other rings by yourselves,” Penny suggested.
The open ring was a big course, which was to be expected. The jumps were already set at a metre twenty for the first class of the day and by the end of the day they would be as high as a metre fifty. Penny guided the girls through the fences on foot, and they discussed striding and alternative routes to get around the ring in a faster time. Issie spent all of her time just trying to remember which jump came next. She had to remember three
courses that day! That was the thing about riding professionally. If you had more than one horse and more than one course to remember it could get jumbled in your head.
“You’ll get used to it,” Penny told her. “It helps if you imagine yourself actually riding around the fences rather than just walking between them.”
As Issie and Natasha entered the pony ring, Issie tried to keep Penny’s advice in mind. She imagined she could feel herself gathering her pony up underneath her, finding her line, and then pushing on at the jump. She was halfway around the course, riding with her mind and trying to find the right striding as she came up to the second element of the double, when Aidan appeared in front of her.
“Hi,” he grinned, “fancy seeing you here!”
Issie smiled back. “You just ruined my clear round.”
“What?”
“I was riding my imaginary horse. I was halfway to a clear round, but now I’m lost again,” Issie explained.
“I prefer riding real ones myself,” Aidan said.
“Are you on Fortune today?” Issie asked.
“Yep, and I’m riding another two ponies for Araminta as well.”
“So I’ll see you in the ring then?” Issie said.
“Why don’t you come and see me for lunch too?” Aidan smiled. “We didn’t really get the chance to catch up last week.”
“I know,” Issie sighed. She looked over at Natasha, who was mouthing at her to hurry up. “I…I really need to get going,” Issie told Aidan. “We need to get back to the truck and get the horses ready.”
“So,” Aidan said, “meet me at lunchtime then?”
“I can’t,” Issie said. “Ginty doesn’t like us hanging out with other riders. She wants the team to stay together.”
“You’re kidding!” Aidan frowned. “It’s your lunch break. You should be able to do whatever you like.”
“I can do what I like,” Issie asserted.
“So you’re saying you don’t want to have lunch with me? Is that it?”
“No,” Issie said, “it’s just that I’m working and I don’t want to upset Ginty.”
“So you’re scared of her?”
“No!” Issie was getting upset now. Why did Aidan insist on getting the wrong end of the stick? “It’s not like that. I just want to be professional.”
“Being a professional doesn’t mean not having any fun or any friends,” Aidan shot back.
“What do you mean?” Issie said. “I can’t believe this is all because I won’t have lunch with you.”
“It’s not just lunch,” Aidan said. “It’s more than that. It’s about how you’ve been acting lately. I met up with Stella and Kate for a lesson at Avery’s the other day and they said you’ve hardly spoken to them since you started working for Ginty. Like you’re too good to hang out with your old friends now you’re riding on the showjumping circuit.”
Issie was taken aback. “Stella said that about me?”
Aidan shook his head. “Stella would never talk about you behind your back. But I could tell she was really hurt. She said she’s asked you loads of times to go riding after work and you always say no.”
“I work long hours,” Issie mumbled, “and I’m tired at the end of the day. I don’t really feel like hacking about pointlessly…”
The words slipped out before she realised what she was saying. She saw Aidan’s face fall. “Well, if that’s how you feel, I won’t keep you from your important work any longer,” he said. “I’m a professional too, you know. I better get back to my horses.”
“Aidan, no! I didn’t mean it like that…” Issie called after him. But he ignored her and walked away.
“Come on, Issie!” Natasha was beside her, jumping about with such urgency it looked as if she was dying to go to the loo. “We need to get back to the truck. Ginty will kill us if we’re late!”
Issie walked back to the truck in a state of shock. Why did Aidan have to fight with her now? He had ruined her course walk and she would never remember her route. Come to think of it, did Aidan have to fight with her at all? It was none of his business if Issie was too busy to see her friends. He had no idea what it was like trying to juggle her work and everything else. The more she thought about it, the more furious she became, and by the time they had reached the horse truck she was full of righteous indignation. She’d done nothing wrong. She was just doing her job.
She was so cross about Aidan, it took her a moment to focus on what was happening right in front of her eyes. Tottie had been saddled up and put on the lunge rein. Ginty was lunging her now at a trot in a twenty-metre circle right beside the horse truck. Issie and Natasha watched slack-jawed as the mare trotted briskly around the circle.
“I don’t believe it,” Natasha whispered.
“Me neither,” Issie said.
The grey mare was lifting up her hooves neatly, her head held high. As she trotted freely on the lunge there was no sign of the soreness that had been there earlier that morning.
“It’s a miracle,” Natasha said.
Issie had to agree. Tottie was no longer lame.
Chapter 11
Tottie’s lameness had completely disappeared and the mare performed like a superstar, winning ribbons in two classes. Flame, meanwhile, was a nightmare ride. At times, when Issie could get the powerful chestnut under control, she could see hints of the greatness that lay deep within him. His jump was so scopey, that even when he was approaching the fences in his crazy, overexcited crab-step and pulling at the reins like mad, he could still fly the fences with ease. But his ability was marred by inconsistency. Again and again Issie managed to get him jumping neatly, only to have him go completely berserk if he so much as brushed a rail with his legs, behaving as if he had been given an electric shock. He’d then lose his cool so badly that he’d go on to bowl through the next jump and bring the whole fence down.
Back at the horse truck, Ginty brushed off Issie’s concerns. “He’s your responsibility,” she snapped. “Pull your socks up and start riding him properly or I’ll get Penny to ride him instead!”
Issie was horrified. It wasn’t her fault that Flame was going so badly, was it?
“Ginty doesn’t care whose fault it is,” Natasha told her bluntly. “She just doesn’t want to be embarrassed in front of Cassandra. You’re making her look bad.”
Natasha was right. Ginty was hellbent on impressing Cassandra—especially since today she had just asked the millionairess to spend even more money buying another new horse for the stable. But Flame was hardly proving to be a great advertisement. Ginty tried to keep Cassandra away from the ringside so that she wouldn’t see the chaos Flame was causing on the jumping course. But it all went wrong when Cassandra happened to catch sight of the chestnut gelding crashing his way through his final round for the day.
Cassandra was less than impressed and she told Ginty that there would be no buying of a new horse. “I think you’ve got enough on your plate with this one, haven’t you?” she said.
Ginty didn’t seem to have any answers to Flame’s problems. Her only solution seemed to be rubbing copious amounts of some new kind of liniment into his legs between classes. Though heaven knew what good that was supposed to do, Issie thought. The horse’s problem wasn’t that his legs were stiff — it was that he continued to act bonkers in the ring.
Flame was a washout in all five of his classes that day and Issie’s only success in the hack ring was a first and second place on Tottie. Penny, meanwhile, had done well on Vertigo and Sebastian and won two of her classes.
In the pony ring, however, Team Araminta were definitely the ones who came out on top. Aidan and Morgan had beaten both Issie and Natasha in most of the events, with Fortune performing like a total hero. The partnership won all four of their classes that day. Issie had managed to mumble a “well done” to Aidan as she joined him in the arena to collect her blue second-place sash while he received the red ribbon yet again. Aidan responded with a polite “thank you”. But that was
the only time they spoke.
At lunchtime, Issie kept thinking that Aidan might come over and apologise for the way he had talked to her that morning, but he didn’t appear. Then before she knew it the afternoon’s competition was winding up and they were loading the horses back on the truck and heading for Dulmoth Park.
It had been a long day, and it wasn’t over yet. Ginty asked Issie to stay on to do all the hard feeds and ice Tottie’s legs as well. It was late when Issie finally left the stables and headed for home. The bike ride back was the final straw at the end of a tough day, and she was aching and exhausted by the time she got to the front door.
“At last! I’m keeping the dinner warm in the oven,” Mrs Brown told her as she walked in. “Go get changed out of your jods and I’ll dish it up.”
Issie was hardly great company that evening. She sat at the table lost in her own world, picking at her reheated casserole, still hurting over her conversation with Aidan. He didn’t have the right to talk to her like that! He couldn’t tell her what to do. Why did everyone seem to have an opinion on her working for Ginty? It wasn’t like she had many options if she wanted to be a professional rider around here. Apart from maybe Araminta, there was no one else in Chevalier Point who had the resources that Ginty had.
Avery certainly didn’t. Winterflood Farm was nice enough with its neat green hedges and small stable block, but it was low-powered and impoverished compared to Dulmoth Park. A single one of those Hermès saddles in Ginty’s tack room was probably worth more than all of Avery’s tack put together! Issie was only realising now just how much money mattered when you were talking about professional riding. If she was really serious about being a competitive international rider one day then she was going to need a backer, someone like Cassandra with enough money to provide her with the high-class horses required to take her to the top.
“Too rich for you?”
“What?” Issie was startled.
“The casserole,” Mrs Brown said pointing to Issie’s untouched plate. “Is it too rich? Or are you not hungry?”
