by Amanda Wills
Friends and rivals compete for showjumping glory
Best friends Jodie Morgan and Caitlyn Jones were the only two young riders to make it through to the jump-off in the final class at the South Devon Open Showjumping Competition on Saturday.
Fourteen-year-old Jodie and her pony Nethercote Nero jumped first, giving a textbook performance with a fast, clean round, piling on the pressure for her thirteen-year-old friend and fellow Pony Club showjumping team member Caitlyn.
Caitlyn and her pony Cloud Nine looked like they were in with a chance, but knocked a pole in the double to collect four faults and second place.
Earlier this year Jodie, a rising showjumping talent, was selected to represent Great Britain in the British Showjumping Pony European Championships squad.
‘Both Nero and Cloud have been jumping out of their skin all season so winning the open jumping class against such stiff competition was pretty special,’ said Jodie.
‘Hopefully we can keep up the momentum for the European Championships in Malmo, Sweden, in August.’
Jodie and Caitlyn had been best friends! Poppy studied the photo next to the story, the diary forgotten. Cloud stood proudly, his neck arched and his mane neatly plaited, an enormous blue rosette fixed to his browband. Caitlyn sat gracefully astride him, holding the reins with one hand, her head turned towards the girl next to her, who was riding an eye-catching light bay gelding, her hand clasped around the stem of a silver trophy. Jodie was winking at Caitlyn and laughing. She looked younger, more carefree, less spiky, but it was definitely her. Poppy checked the date. Seven years ago. She squinted at Nero, trying to remember if she'd seen him when they'd visited Nethercote. She didn't think so. She was sure she'd have remembered him.
Poppy supposed it was no fluke that the two girls had known each other. They must have been in the same school year and they were both talented riders. They had a lot in common. It was inevitable they'd been friends. Suddenly Jodie's reaction to Cloud made sense. Poppy shivered. Poor Jodie. Coming face to face with her old friend's pony must have been a shock.
A thump, thump, thump on the stairs caught her attention and the handle on her bedroom door turned. Poppy shoved the newspaper cutting back in the diary and slipped it under her mattress. She streaked across the room and whipped the wicker chair away as the door creaked and swung open.
Charlie eyed her suspiciously. ‘Why are you holding your chair?’
‘Just re-arranging my room. Felt like a change,’ Poppy said airily.
Charlie raised his eyebrows. ‘Mum sent me up. Dinner's nearly ready. You need to come down and lay the table.’
Poppy didn't get another chance to look at the diary until she'd gone to bed. Her lamp cast a pool of sallow light over the crackly pages as she scoured the tiny loopy handwriting, looking for mentions of Cloud. She found the first on the fifth of January.
Mum finally agreed to drive me up to Gran's this morning. I was getting desperate. I hadn't seen Cloud since New Year's Eve. That's five whole days ago! I think he was pleased to see me. But not as pleased as I was to see him! It was freezing, but we managed a quick ride around the lanes. I'm never going to get his fitness up for competing if I can only ride a couple of times a week. Gran said she would've lunged him but the fields were too waterlogged. But I shouldn't have to rely on her to exercise my pony. Mum just doesn't get it. I wish, wish, wish she was into horses like Jodie's dad is. She doesn't know how lucky she is.
Poppy realised she was lucky, too. Imagine only seeing Cloud a couple of times a week! It would be torture. She could see him first thing every morning and last thing at night. She could ride him whenever she wanted. She could even watch him from her bedroom window. They spent every spare second together. For the first time in her life Poppy felt stirrings of sympathy for Caitlyn.
She scanned through the weekday entries, which seemed to consist mainly of Caitlyn moaning about school and the amount of homework she'd been given. The bits that fascinated her were the references to Cloud and Jodie. One entry on the twentieth of May caught her attention.
What a fantastic weekend! The Annoying Parents had some boring wedding to go to in Somerset. They were going to take me until I suggested I stayed at Gran's. So they dropped me off at eight yesterday morning and didn't pick me up until six tonight. It was brilliant, having a whole two days with Cloud. And Chester and Gran of course. Jodie's dad brought Nero over in their box yesterday and we went on this amazingly long ride. We were gone for hours. Mum would have been panicking, thinking we'd been kidnapped by aliens or something, but Gran's so chilled. She always says she trusts Cloud to look after me. Anyway, we found this awesome place. It's an old abandoned cottage over towards Princetown way. You have to ride through a forest to reach it. There's even a small lake for the ponies to drink from. We decided we'd hang out there whenever we can. It's so cool.
And then a couple of weeks later:
No shows this weekend so Jodie and I rode over to the cottage. We took a picnic this time, which we ate on the banks of the lake. I brought along an article I'd printed from the internet about how to teach your horse tricks. It was so funny. Honestly, we were in stitches. Cloud was a quick learner, and by the end of the afternoon he was giving me a kiss for a pony nut. Nero was hopeless. But secretly I didn't mind. It was nice to be better at something than Jodie for once!
Poppy yawned and checked the time. Five to eleven. She closed the diary, slid it back under her mattress and turned off her bedside lamp. It's funny, she thought sleepily, as she wiggled under the duvet trying to get comfortable. She'd spent two years feeling inferior to Caitlyn. But, as she'd flicked through pages and pages peppered with the insights and insecurities of any teenage girl, she realised they were not so very different after all.
Chapter Six
A fine drizzle as soft as a whisper had settled on the moor overnight and, despite promises by the weathermen that the afternoon would be hot and sunny, the mizzle seemed as stubborn to linger as an unwelcome houseguest reluctant to pack their bags and go home. Poppy's hair had frizzed by the time she had fed Cloud and Chester, cleaned and re-filled their water trough and poo-picked their field.
She was changing into a pair of marginally-cleaner jodhpurs when she heard the toot of a horn and saw Bill's Land Rover bump to a halt outside the front door. Scarlett slid across the bench seat to make room for her.
‘Excited?’ Poppy said, fixing her seatbelt.
‘I feel a bit sick, actually.’
Poppy was surprised. Scarlett usually took everything in her stride. Things that would make Poppy's knees knock with fear, like meeting new people or talking to the whole school during assembly, never fazed her. She was normally so confident and laid-back, everything Poppy wasn't.
‘What's up?’
Scarlett hugged herself. ‘What if Jodie takes one look at me and decides she hates me? What if Red and I don't click? What if we fail the home check? So many things could go wrong.’
‘It'll all be fine,’ Poppy soothed.
Scarlett stared glumly ahead as the windscreen wipers whisked to and fro, and remained unusually quiet as they trundled through the lanes to Nethercote. Poppy chatted to Bill about the fete, although her mind was elsewhere. She hadn't made up her mind whether or not to tell Jodie that she knew she and Caitlyn had been friends. She wanted to know if Jodie had ever made the European Championships in Sweden. According to the newspaper cutting she was a promising young rider. So why was she working her fingers to the bone at a small, local horse rescue centre in the middle of Dartmoor and not competing for glory on the national showjumping circuit? Poppy remembered a throwaway remark Jodie had made during their visit. She'd said the horse sanctuary was her dad's dream, not hers. Had her dream been to be a professional showjumper? If so, why had she thrown it all away to look after the rescue horses? And where was her dad in all of this? It didn't make sense.
Bill turned off the main road and the Land Rover lurched along the long and windy track to Nethercote.
Poppy jumped out and pointed to the side of the house. ‘It's this way.’
Scarlett and Bill followed her to the two long rows of whitewashed stables. A familiar spotted head appeared over the door of the nearest stable.
‘Hello Biscuit.’ Poppy felt in her pocket for some pony nuts and offered them to the appaloosa. ‘He was rescued from a high rise block of flats,’ she told Scarlett, who was looking decidedly green.
But Scarlett wasn't listening. Her eyes were tracking back and forth across the yard. ‘Is there a loo?’
Poppy spied Jodie leading Red out of the paddock. The chestnut gelding walked obediently by her side. It wasn't until the pair reached them that Poppy realised he wasn't wearing a headcollar.
Jodie read her mind. ‘I don't bother with one. He's always followed me around like a shadow. It's because I hand-reared him.’
Scarlett gazed at Red, her expression a jumble of longing and fear. She held out her hand tentatively and the gelding stretched his neck and blew gently into her palm. Scarlett scratched his poll and beamed at them. ‘He's the most beautiful horse I have ever seen in my life.’
‘I wouldn't go that far, but yes, he's not a bad sort,’ said Jodie.
Jodie tacked Red up and led him to the mounting block.
‘He was only backed in the spring and is still very green, but he's a fast learner,’ she said, holding the gelding while Scarlett swung deftly into the saddle. Her hazel eyes were sparkling as she followed Jodie into a small, empty paddock.
‘Have a walk and trot and see how he feels.’
Poppy, Bill and Jodie leant on the post and rail fence and watched Scarlett and Red as they walked around the field.
‘You're right, she's a nice little rider,’ Jodie said.
‘Aye,’ said Bill. ‘She learnt as soon as she could walk and hasn't stopped since. It's broken her heart that she's almost outgrown Blaze, especially as we couldn't afford to buy her another horse, but she's never once complained. She's a good girl, is our Scarlett, and she'll look after your Red, I promise you that.’
There was a catch in Bill's normally gruff voice. Poppy caught Jodie's eye and was surprised to see her face darken.
‘She's lucky to have a dad like you.’
Red trotted past, his chestnut ears pricked. Jodie gave a brief smile. ‘I'll need to do a home visit of course, but I think we can safely say these two were a match made in heaven. The adoption forms are in the house. I'll go and find one.’
Scarlett jumped off Red and smothered him with kisses. ‘I'm in love,’ she declared, and then clutched Poppy's arm. ‘Do you think I did OK?’
‘More than OK. Jodie said you two were a match made in heaven. She's just gone to get the paperwork.’
Scarlett flung her arms around the chestnut gelding's neck. Red seemed to be enjoying the attention. Poppy loosened his girth and ran up his stirrup leathers.
Bill checked his watch. ‘We'd better make a move. Baxters’ are delivering the pig feed in half an hour.’
‘Do you think we should turn Red out?’ Scarlett asked.
‘I don't know. I'll go and find Jodie.’ Poppy ran past the stables to the house. As she drew near to the open back door the sound of raised voices and the angry clatter of saucepans stopped her in her tracks.
A woman's voice, high-pitched, verging on hysterical, rang out. ‘I don't care what your father says. I don't want you to do it!’
‘But it's not about what you or I want, is it? It never has been,’ Jodie hissed back.
‘We'll manage somehow. I'll ask for some more shifts at the pub.’
‘A few extra hours' pulling pints won't feed this lot, Mum. You know that. I can make more in one night than you earn in a year.’
‘I'll sell my wedding ring. That'll give us a bit of breathing space while we work something out.’
‘Don't be ridiculous. It's the only piece of jewellery you have left.’
‘Do you think I care more about a band of gold than I care about you?’ The woman's voice softened, and Poppy had to strain to hear her. ‘I worry, Jodie love. What happens if you get caught?’
Jodie laughed mirthlessly. ‘We'll end up with two black sheep in the family, won't we? But don't worry, it'll be fine. I've gone over it a million times. Nothing can go wrong.’
Poppy darted back into the stable yard. She was scratching Biscuit's ear in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner when Jodie stalked out of the house, the adoption papers in one hand and a biro in the other.
‘I see you've found a friend,’ Jodie remarked, pausing to stroke the appaloosa's speckled forehead.
Poppy reddened, even though there was no way Jodie could have known she'd eavesdropped. ‘We weren't sure what you wanted us to do with Red,’ she mumbled.
‘We'll put him back in the field.’
Poppy stole a look at the older girl as they walked across to Scarlett and Bill. There was a fierce expression on her face and a resolute set to her shoulders. Jodie caught her staring and raised her eyebrows.
‘Anything wrong?’ she asked.
I should be the one asking that, Poppy thought. Why was Jodie's mum so worried? What was it she didn't want Jodie to do? Instead she shook her head and smiled brightly.
‘No. Everything is absolutely fine.’
Chapter Seven
The hands of Poppy's battered Mickey Mouse alarm clock had barely crawled around to seven o'clock the next morning when Charlie bounded into her bedroom.
‘Don't forget our picnic! I've already planned our route and made some sandwiches. I just need to do drinks and some cake. It's going to be epic.’ Charlie bounced back out of the room. Poppy groaned. She'd planned to spend the day helping Scarlett clear out the old stable Bill had earmarked for Red. She'd forgotten she'd promised her brother that they'd spend the day on the moor. She couldn't pull out. She'd never hear the end of it. Sighing, she threw back the duvet, waking Magpie, the McKeevers' cat, who had been snoring softly at the end of her bed. He narrowed his emerald green eyes at her before tucking his head between his paws and going back to sleep. Poppy reached for her mobile and texted Scarlett to say she would try and pop round before dinner.
Downstairs, Charlie was carefully cutting squares of lemon drizzle cake and wrapping them in cling film.
‘I've cut up some carrots for Cloud. I even peeled them for him,’ he said. Caroline had only recently let Charlie start using the sharp kitchen knives. Personally Poppy thought it was asking for trouble and quite expected to find pieces of chopped finger in her food, but by some small miracle he had so far managed to keep all his digits intact.
‘Where d'you want to go?’ she asked.
‘I thought we'd try somewhere new.’
Poppy was surprised. Usually they picnicked in the Riverdale wood, on the small sandy strip of beach where they'd first seen Cloud. And then the penny dropped.
‘Are we going to the old cottage by any chance?’
‘What old cottage?’ said Caroline, walking into the kitchen with a basket of dirty laundry balanced on her hip.
Charlie held his finger to his lips and Poppy nodded. She was as keen to go back to the old croft as her brother but knew that Caroline would worry if she knew. Deep water and derelict buildings seemed to freak adults out.
‘Charlie wants to head down the bridleway that goes past the thatched cottage by the church,’ Poppy said, crossing her fingers behind her back.
‘Sounds lovely. I wish I could come too, but I must do some gardening. Make sure you've got your phone with you, and be back by four at the latest. Otherwise I'll send out a search party.’
‘And we don't want that happening again, do we?’ said Poppy, remembering the day she and Charlie had had to be rescued from the moor the first summer they'd moved to Riverdale.
‘We certainly don't!’ Caroline said, giving her a hug.
Poppy split their picnic into the two small saddle bags resting on Cloud's dappled grey flanks and tightened his girth. Smelling the carrots, the Connemara
nibbled the hem of her checked shirt. She blew into his nose and he blew softly back.
‘Ready?’ she called to Charlie, who was wheeling his bike out of the barn. He was wearing a cycling helmet, a pair of their dad's old aviator sunglasses and his school rucksack.
‘You bet!’
Poppy jumped into the saddle. ‘Come on then, let's have ourselves an adventure!’
The August sun was high in the sky as they let themselves out of the gate that led to the moor. Puffs of candyfloss cloud wafted by and in the distance three crows shamelessly mobbed a buzzard. Soon they had left Waterby behind and were climbing steadily towards Princetown. The wind ruffled Cloud's mane as he tossed his head and snatched at the bit.
‘OK for a canter?’ she asked. Charlie nodded. He crouched low over the handlebars and started pedalling furiously, his elbows jutting out like chicken wings. Poppy kicked Cloud on, keeping pace with her brother until she could see he was beginning to tire.
Before long the dark green belt of conifers appeared on the horizon.
‘Those trees are the perfect camouflage, hiding Witch Cottage from prying eyes and nosy parkers,’ Charlie said.
‘I'd never have found it if it wasn't for Cloud,’ Poppy agreed.
‘Do you think he'd been there before?’
Poppy pictured Caitlyn's diary, hidden in the bottom of her sock drawer. ‘Maybe,’ she hedged, as they wound their way through the evergreens.
Charlie flung his bike and rucksack on the grass and raced over to the tumbledown building. Poppy watched him pull open the front door and disappear inside. Seconds later a startled pigeon flew out of the hole in the roof in a blur of feathers and affront. Poppy jumped off Cloud and led him over to the banks of the tarn. She stared at their reflections as he drank, remembering Scarlett's ghost stories about the old woman and her son and the superstition that claimed anyone gazing into the still waters on Midsummer's Eve would see a reflection of the next person in the parish to die.
