by Amanda Wills
‘I don't think they'll fit you,’ said an amused voice, making her jump.
‘Tory!’ cried Poppy.
Her old friend was in the doorway, leaning on her crutches. Poppy hugged her. Tory smelt of lavender and toast, as she always did.
‘You said you were meeting us there!’
‘I thought you might like some moral support. How are the nerves?’
Poppy gave the glimmer of a smile. ‘The nerves are doing just great. It's me I'm worried about.’
‘You'll be fine,’ said Tory, making herself comfortable on an old wooden bench. ‘Which class have you entered?’
‘The novice jumping. It's two foot three!’ Poppy felt another flutter of anxiety and took two deep breaths.
‘You've been jumping courses much bigger than that with Bella, haven't you?’ said Tory.
Poppy nodded.
‘Well then, it'll be an absolute breeze, won't it Cloud?’
Hearing his name the Connemara poked his handsome head over the stable door and whickered. Poppy put his headcollar on and led him out of the stable. She'd groomed him until he'd shone the evening before but wanted to rinse off the stable stains on his legs and give him one final brush over before she tackled his mane.
‘What time's Bill due?’ Tory asked.
‘Eight o'clock. I expect Scarlett's been up for hours getting Red ready.’ Poppy knew her best friend wanted the former rescue pony looking his absolute best for their first show together. ‘She texted me this morning in a panic because Jodie's announced she's coming to watch.’
Jodie Morgan owned Nethercote Horse Rescue, Red's old home. Forthright and not one to suffer fools gladly, Jodie had turned her back on her own showjumping dreams to run the horse sanctuary single-handedly. No wonder Scarlett was nervous at the prospect of jumping in front of her.
Poppy divided Cloud's mane into sections and secured them with elastic bands. She tapped each one, counting them in her head. ‘Thirteen!’ she cried.
‘I thought Scarlett was the superstitious one,’ said Tory.
‘You're right, she is,’ Poppy admitted. ‘I'm being an idiot. It's only a number.’ She began plaiting the sections as neatly as she could.
Charlie appeared with two mugs of tea and sat down next to Tory.
‘I've got some news for you both,’ Tory announced. ‘You know the Christmas Eve Nativity service at St Mary's?’
The two children nodded. A team of volunteers worked for days creating a Bethlehem-like stable at the front of the church and real animals were drafted in to make the Nativity scene as authentic as possible.
‘Rusty, the old donkey who's been appearing since before I can remember, has officially retired, so Reverend Kirton has decided to hold open auditions to find a new star for this year's service.’
Charlie leant forward, his eyes shining. ‘Donkey auditions?’
‘That's right,’ said Tory. ‘They're being held at the church after the service next Sunday. I thought you might want to take Chester.’
‘You bet we would!’ said Charlie. ‘He'd be perfect. He's always really calm and he loves attention. And he wouldn't go to the toilet just when the Wise Men arrived like Rusty did last year.’
Tory took a sip of her tea. ‘Good. I told Annette you'd bring him. She was delighted.’
Charlie screwed his face up. ‘Wait a minute. Did you say Reverend Kirton's name was Annette?’
‘Yes, why?’
A grin spread across his face. ‘Annette Kirton,’ he sniggered.
Tory and Poppy looked at him blankly.
Charlie was laughing hard. ‘Come on, you two. Don't you get it? Annette Kirton.’
‘Yes, very funny. But don't go taking the mickey out of her name at the audition. You'll ruin Chester's chances,’ said Poppy.
‘You're no fun,’ he said, heading back indoors humming Away in a Manger.
Poppy curled up the final plait and wound the last elastic band around it several times to secure it. After oiling Cloud's hooves she gave him a quick blast of shine spray and stood back to admire her handiwork.
‘You've done a beautiful job,’ said Tory. ‘Seeing him all plaited and gleaming takes me right back.’
Poppy thought she could detect a catch in Tory's voice. Small wonder. It must have been a morning just like this that had ended in disaster when Cloud had fallen at a drop fence during a hunter trial in Widecombe, throwing Tory's granddaughter Caitlyn beneath him.
An unwelcome thought occurred to her. ‘This is his first proper competition since Widecombe, isn't it?’
‘I suppose it is,’ said Tory.
Poppy licked her lips. ‘D'you think he'll be OK?’
Tory patted the seat beside her. ‘I'm sure he will. He used to love competing. They both did.’
Poppy leant against Tory and gazed at her pony, trying to see him through a stranger's eyes. Cloud's dappled grey coat shone and he was muscled and fit. He looked every inch the superstar pony he was. They'd purposefully picked a novice class even though Cloud could have jumped it in his sleep. And she knew he'd look after her - he always did.
Poppy stretched out her fingers. They weren't trembling any more. And the butterflies had disappeared. Her phone beeped with a text from Scarlett.
‘They're on their way,’ she said.
Tory heaved herself to her feet. ‘All set?’ she asked.
Poppy felt a flutter in her stomach. But it was excitement, not nerves. She grinned.
‘You bet. We can do this, can't we Cloud? Today Claydon Manor, tomorrow the world!’
Chapter Two
Poppy felt her nerves resurface as Scarlett’s dad steered the Land Rover through Claydon Manor's imposing wrought iron gates.
‘I suppose Georgia will be lording it over everyone as usual,’ grumbled Scarlett, who was studying the schedule. ‘How come they’re holding unaffiliated and affiliated classes at the same show, anyway?’
‘It’s a trial, to see if it works. That’s what Bella said.’
‘And why’s she not holding it at Redhall?’
‘Because she’s got builders in repairing the roof of the indoor school,’ Poppy reminded her.
Scarlett tutted. ‘I'm surprised the Cannings are letting the hoi polloi in, what with all the security there usually is around here.’
Poppy glanced at the beautiful grey stone Georgian manor house in the distance and the immaculate paddocks on either side of its sweeping gravelled drive.
‘How on earth do they manage to keep their fields looking so perfect?’ she wondered. ‘Ours are a quagmire. I lost my welly in the mud yesterday.’
‘It's because they have the money to throw at it, of course,’ said Scarlett darkly.
Poppy sighed inwardly. She loved her best friend to bits, but there was no stopping her once she got started on the unfairness of the fact that Georgia Canning's parents had won the lottery and hers hadn't.
‘What time's Sam's class?’ Poppy asked her, hoping to change the subject.
‘Eleven o'clock.’ Scarlett gave Poppy a sidelong look. ‘Why, d'you want to stay and watch?’
Poppy felt her face grow hot. She shrugged. ‘I guess we might as well, as we're here.’
‘Georgia'll be jumping in his class on her ten thousand pound pony, no doubt,’ said Scarlett.
‘Give it a rest, Scar,’ said Poppy, winding down the window and fanning the cool air into her face.
But Scarlett was still bellyaching about the Cannings when they pulled in next to a compact red horsebox on an expanse of hardstanding beside Claydon's huge wooden-slatted indoor arena.
Poppy had only been to one horse show before, and that was at Redhall Manor Equestrian Centre, where she and Scarlett had their weekly lessons with Redhall's indomitable owner, Bella Thompson. She'd only gone to watch and she still remembered how in awe she'd felt of the competitors as they'd stalked around in their bone white jodhpurs and midnight blue show jackets, laughing and chatting to each other like they were members of som
e exclusive club the rest of the population could only dream of joining. Poppy had stood on the sidelines, drinking it all in and wondering if she'd ever be included.
Now she had her own navy jacket, which was in the back of the Land Rover with her new white jodhpurs. OK, so they were both second-hand - Poppy preferred to call them pre-loved - but every time she'd tried them on in front of the mirror with her polished jodhpur boots she'd felt a step closer to joining the select few.
She surreptitiously practised the graceful smile she'd give as she bowed and accepted a red rosette from the judge before kicking Cloud into a canter and flying around the ring. There would be cheers from the spectators and approving nods from her fellow competitors. With a win at her first ever show she might finally stop feeling inferior to Caitlyn.
Scarlett elbowed her in the ribs, bringing her back to earth with a bump.
‘Stop daydreaming, Poppy. We need to get the ponies sorted and go and walk the course.’
Claydon Manor was buzzing. Everywhere Poppy looked riders were giving their ponies a final brush, tacking up or pinning numbers to their jackets. The place was ringing with noisy chatter and the occasional whinny. Poppy caught a whiff of hot dogs and fried onions and her stomach rumbled loudly.
Cloud stopped halfway down the ramp of the trailer, his head high and his nostrils flared. Poppy gave the lead rope a gentle tug and clicked her tongue. ‘Come on baby, it's just a show. There's nothing to worry about.’
He lowered his head and gave her a nudge.
‘I know. I should take my own advice,’ Poppy said, tying him up next to Red.
Satisfied their ponies were happy munching their haynets the two girls headed for the indoor arena. They were just passing the outdoor school, which was being used as the warm-up area, when they almost walked into Georgia Canning.
Already in her white jodhpurs and show jacket and staring disdainfully at the anaemic-looking hot dog she was holding, Georgia looked them up and down.
‘I thought you might be here,’ she said, addressing Poppy. ‘Are you jumping in the novice class?’
Poppy, who could feel Scarlett bristling beside her, nodded. She smiled, feeling the need to overcompensate for her best friend’s obvious hostility. The show would have been cancelled if the Cannings hadn't offered the use of their yard, after all. ‘It's my first show. Do you have any insider information?’
‘I certainly do. Don't go near the hot dog stand. I swear this thing's raw.’ Georgia held the sad-looking sausage and its doughy coffin at arm's length. ‘The couple running it were completely clueless. I shall probably go down with food poisoning.’
‘She meant insider information about the course, not the food,’ Scarlett said scathingly.
Georgia fixed her cornflower-blue eyes on Scarlett, looked over her shoulder and leaned in conspiratorially. ‘Ah, you want insider information on the course. Silly me. Well, it's about so high,’ she held out the hot dog just below waist height. ‘It starts with the first fence and ends with the last and there are a few more in between.’
With that she tossed her hot dog over her shoulder and stalked off towards the stables.
‘Flippin' hilarious,’ growled Scarlett. ‘Who the hell does she think she is?’
Poppy tugged her best friend's arm. ‘Ignore her, she was just winding you up. Come on, let's go and walk this course.’
Poppy took one look at the brightly painted showjumps in Claydon Manor's imposing indoor arena and froze.
‘I can't do it!’ she hissed. ‘They're enormous!’
Scarlett peered into the arena. ‘They're two foot three,’ she said patiently. ‘You've been jumping three foot three in our lessons. You'll be fine. Just take a deep breath, put on your game face and come and walk the course. You'll see they're not so bad.’
‘It's alright for you. You've done loads of shows.’
‘I might have, but this is Red's first time, remember. I know it's your first show, but Cloud is an old pro. That makes us even.’
‘But -’
‘Poppy, you've been working towards this for weeks. You can't wimp out now,’ Scarlett said firmly. She looked over Poppy's shoulder and began waving frantically. ‘Thank goodness. Bella's here. She might be able to talk some sense into you.’
Poppy turned to see her riding instructor bearing down on them. Bella was in her trademark wax jacket, tweed skirt and wellies, topped off with a headscarf. This one, Poppy noticed, was decorated with eggbutt snaffles.
‘How does the course look?’ Bella bellowed.
‘I wouldn't know. Poppy's refusing to walk it,’ said Scarlett.
Bella raised her eyebrows. ‘What do you mean?’
Poppy looked beseechingly at her. ‘I don't think I can do it.’
‘Nonsense! Of course you can. Come on, I'll walk it with you,’ she said, steering Poppy into the arena before she had a chance to protest.
Poppy practised her deep breathing as she followed Bella and Scarlett around the course. The first jump was a red and white upright. Poppy had to admit that it looked straightforward enough. A right turn to another upright followed by a small oxer, then right again to a set of planks and a brush and rails.
Jump six was the first double. Poppy followed Scarlett and Bella's lead and counted the strides between the two fences. Eight of her strides. Was that one or two of Cloud's? She racked her brain but for the life of her couldn't remember. It was as if her head had been tipped on one side and every single brain cell had fallen out of her ear.
Fortunately Scarlett saved her. ‘That's good. It's a perfect single stride for our boys,’ she said.
They turned left to a wall followed by an upright. Two girls with ringing public school voices and an air of self-assurance Poppy could only dream of breezed past them to jump nine, a parallel bar painted in sky blue and primrose yellow. They were exactly the kind of girls Poppy had felt so in awe of at the Redhall show. Girls who had been given their first ponies before they were two and had probably hunted before they started at their expensive prep schools. She knew she shouldn't feel inferior. She just couldn't help herself.
Distracted by their casual confidence, she stopped looking where she was going and cannoned into the wing of the blue and yellow jump, knocking it flying.
‘Sorry sorry sorry,’ she gabbled as an irritable-looking show steward bustled over and began replacing the fallen poles. Poppy blushed at her ineptitude. But if she was worried what the two girls might think she needn't have bothered - they were so deep in conversation they didn't even look in her direction.
‘Come on, clumsy,’ said Scarlett, linking arms with her and leading her to the next jump, a frighteningly solid-looking gate. Poppy was about to give it a rattle in its cups but stopped herself just in time. Knowing her luck she'd send it flying, too.
‘You need to change reins for the last three,’ said Bella, marching over to a blue and white upright that was followed by the second double of the course. Poppy counted her strides. ‘Eight for me, one for Cloud,’ she muttered.
‘Don't forget to wait for the starting bell otherwise you'll be eliminated,’ Bella continued. ‘And remember to go through the finish line. So, have you any questions?’
‘Can I go home now, please?’ said Poppy, worried she'd already forgotten the course.
Bella tutted. ‘There's no need to be nervous. Angela has done a good job. It's a lovely inviting course with nice easy turns. Just remember not to rush the planks and keep nice and balanced for the two combinations. Why don't you girls go and find your ponies? I'll ask Sam to put up a couple of practice jumps for you if you like.’
The ritual of tacking up, putting on her hat, tightening Cloud's girth and running the stirrups down helped damp down Poppy’s anxiety and she felt even better once she was in the saddle. Cloud felt solid and familiar. She was also relieved that he seemed to be taking everything in his stride, whereas Red, normally so laid-back, was fizzing like a bath bomb and had already worked himself into a sweat. Scar
lett was struggling to keep the rangy chestnut calm as they walked over to the outdoor school.
‘There's Sam,’ Poppy said, spotting Bella's grandson's blond head by the entrance. He was watching one of the posh girls cantering her dark bay mare around the school. Poppy hadn't seen Sam for a couple of months. She was taken aback to see that he seemed to have grown half a foot in that time. His face was different, too. More angular, less boyish. But when he saw them he grinned like a loon and loped over. Poppy found herself smiling back, despite her somersaulting stomach.
‘Hey, you two,’ he said. ‘Gran's sent me over to sort you out. We'll start with some circles in trot and canter, shall we?’
As Poppy asked Cloud for a trot, she heard Scarlett muttering, ‘What's your name, Bella Thompson?’ and then cursing loudly as Red shied at the red wing of one of the practice fences.
With half a dozen other riders all warming up in the same school Poppy knew she needed to blank everyone else out. They circled on both reins until Cloud was listening to her aids and working in a nice outline. Poppy sat deeply in the saddle for a couple of strides and squeezed him into a canter.
‘I'll put up a cross-pole,’ called Sam. Poppy checked Cloud and he popped over the little jump with ease. Red crabbed up to the fence and, at the last minute, sprang forwards and leapt over it with feet to spare. The chestnut gelding gave a joyful buck. Scarlett, to her credit, hardly moved in the saddle.
By the time they'd both jumped a small upright on each leg Bella had reappeared.
‘I've just been over to the collecting ring. The class is about to start. Scarlett, you're fifth to jump and Poppy, you're seventh. Walk them on a long rein for five minutes to give them a breather and then you'd better make your way over.’
Sam ran his hand down Cloud's neck and the Connemara nibbled the pockets of his jeans. ‘Still nervous?’ he asked Poppy.
‘Utterly terrified,’ she admitted.
