by Amy Brown
‘I wish it wasn’t so “leggy”,’ Jade admitted. ‘But I don’t know how to change it — unless I ride sidesaddle. But Pocahontas didn’t ride side-saddle, did she, Dad?’
‘No, I don’t think so. And don’t worry about the splits up the side of the skirt: it’s probably the most authentic thing about the costume.’
‘It’s a tunic, not a skirt,’ Jade corrected.
‘Sorry, tunic. Is there a prize for best dressed?’
‘Yep — a cup!’
‘Well, I’d vote for you,’ her granddad said, grinning. ‘And, now the fashion parade is over, I’d better be getting home. Holly Dog will be wondering where I am.’
The week before the Flaxton Jollykhana drifted pleasantly by, as the last days of school before the summer holidays often do. All the serious work of the year was finished; the teachers were content to let their classes make Christmas cards, play Capture the Flag, and watch DVDs. All the teachers, that is, except Mr Wilde.
‘I have a treat for you all,’ he said in a voice his pupils knew not to trust. ‘Now the hard slog of the year is over, we can relax with a ballad.’
It was a warm afternoon. His class weren’t even chatting; they simply sat, slumped, not far from sleeping.
‘Who can tell me what a ballad is?’
Silence.
‘Well?’
Knowing that Mr Wilde would not stop until he received a reply, Jade’s friend Laura answered tentatively, ‘An old song?’
‘Thank you, Laura. Imprecise, but close enough. Here is the ballad in question.’ He switched on the overhead projector, then handed out photocopied sheets of paper to the whole class. Jade looked at her own sheets of paper and read ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’.
‘This is not going to be assessed. It is merely for your enjoyment. So, sit back, relax and listen as I read. Read along yourselves, if you like.’
‘Why can’t we just watch a DVD?’ Jade’s friend Becca whispered.
Jade shook her head and mouthed ‘I don’t know.’
Mr Wilde read well, with a velvety voice. Jade found it difficult to keep her eyes open. The words were in a strange order, and every third or fourth word seemed unfamiliar. As far as Jade could tell, an old man had killed an albatross and regretted it. The albatross, the poem said, made the breeze blow. Jade liked that.
Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she,
Who thicks man’s blood with cold.
Mr Wilde’s voice went from nearly a shout to a whisper. Jade wasn’t sure who he was talking about now, but she liked the lines. She could picture the nightmarish lady.
‘Oh, no — we’ve run out of time,’ Mr Wilde said, glancing at his watch. ‘I was going to ask if you had any questions, but we really have to pack the desks up for the cleaners.’
Glad to be freed from the poem, the class immediately began pushing their empty desks to the back wall of the room. Above the screech of chair and table legs against the floor, Mr Wilde attempted to conclude not just the poetry lesson, but the year.
‘I know most teachers hand out sweets and chocolates on the last day, but as someone with a false tooth I am very aware of the perils of too much sugar.’ He reached up to pull his tooth out, but even that didn’t grab his pupils’ attention; they had seen it too many times before. ‘Instead,’ he carried on, ‘I’ve given you one of my favourite poems. Read it aloud, read it often. Look up the words you don’t know and reuse them. Enjoy the drama of the narrative, the tragedy of the protagonist.’
Jade listened out of pity, because no one else seemed to be.
‘And I would like to thank you once more for tolerating my eccentricities and foibles throughout the year. I wish you the very best for your secondary school years, and will follow your progress as best I can.’
‘Thank you, Mr Wilde,’ Jade mumbled, ashamed of her classmates who were chatting over the top of their teacher’s small speech.
‘Good luck, Jade,’ Mr Wilde said, staring at her with his unsettlingly bright eyes. ‘I’m glad I had the opportunity to teach you in my final year. You have a lot of promise.’
‘You’re not coming back next year?’ Jade was surprised. There had been no farewell at the end-of-year assembly. No ceremony.
‘I am finally retiring.’
‘Thank you for teaching me.’ Jade didn’t know what else to say. ‘And thanks for the poem. I liked some of it.’
Mr Wilde laughed. ‘I’m glad.’
Despite it being the final year of intermediate, Jade didn’t really have any other goodbyes. She lived around the corner from Laura, and would see Becca the very next day, when Becca’s mum drove them both to the Jollykhana.
Because it was a Jollykhana, the important thing wasn’t winning but participating. Becca, with her talented dun jumper, Dusty, had recovered completely from her nasty fall last winter and was frustrated with the lack of competition. But Jade, with young Taniwha, couldn’t care less. It was a relief not having to worry about her inconsistent (at best) Kaimanawa-Arab bolting or turning into a bucking bronco during the Paced and Mannered class. In her pony club sweatshirt instead of competition jacket, and with the ribbons going right down to eighth place (a quite pretty burgundy colour), Jade relaxed, and in turn so too did her hyperactive five-year-old gelding.
No, the point of the Jollykhana wasn’t the red ribbon — it was simply a festive pony club rally with a lavish pot-luck lunch at the end of the day. The only competition that meant anything was the Fancy Dress, and, as Jade donned the itchy hessian tunic and transformed into Pocahontas, she wondered whether she was a bit too old for dressing up. It was probably only meant for the little kids — the six-year-olds and their Shetland ponies. So it was relief, then, when Jade saw Becca appear with a shopping bag full of clothing and a pot of red face paint.
‘You’re doing this too, right?’ Jade asked.
‘Definitely. You look amazing, by the way.’
‘You know who I am?’
‘A Red Indian?’
‘Pocahontas.’
‘Cool. Mine was Mum’s idea. I don’t know if anyone else will like it.’
Jade watched as her slight, red-haired friend changed into a pair of white overalls and white gumboots, then began liberally applying red paint to her face, hands and costume.
‘Um …’ Jade said, trying to guess what her friend was dressing up as.
‘It’ll make more sense when I’m with Dusty. Mum’s getting him ready now.’
When Jade was happy with her plaits and with the angle of the magpie feather she had stuck in her headband, she followed Becca down the ramp of the truck and found two painted ponies.
Dusty was standing sleepily, nibbling at a hay-net, completely oblivious to the black grease paint on his sides. The dotted lines of paint mimicked those Jade had seen on the drawing of a pig at the Flaxton Butcher.
‘That’s horrible!’ Jade said, starting to laugh, but wishing she wasn’t. ‘Becca, are you really going to hold that meat cleaver?’
‘Hold still, darling.’ Becca’s mum was now tracing a grease-paint moustache on Becca’s upper lip.
‘Yep,’ Becca said, grinning. ‘It’s funny. Dusty eats so much, he’s a little pig. Get it?’
‘I put a few zigzags on Tani’s rump — I hope you don’t mind,’ Becca’s mum told Jade.
‘No, it looks good. Thanks.’ Jade was just glad her pony’s body hadn’t been divided up into different cuts of meat.
When the girls were ready, they walked sedately over to the ring. Jade was riding, somewhat cautiously, without a saddle, and Becca was leading her pig-pony.
They joined the procession of six-year-old girls dressed as brides and fairies, their ponies adorned with ribbons and lace. The judges, standing in the centre of the circle, were clearly taken with Becca’s outrageous costume. They couldn’t stop staring and g
rinning.
‘I think we’re close to deciding a winner,’ Pony Club District Commissioner Mrs Thompson called out in her booming voice.
‘Wait!’ There was a shout and a thunder of hooves.
‘Oh, no,’ Becca sighed. She could see her cousin, Ryan Todd, cantering far too fast towards the ring. To everyone’s surprise, he slowed down in time and joined the group without mishap. Until, that is, he saw Jade’s costume.
‘We all die, Injun,’ Ryan said, in as deep a voice as he could muster. ‘Just a question of when.’ And with only the slightest fumble, he pulled a toy cap gun from its holster, pointed it at Jade and fired three times.
Relieved that the noise hadn’t made Tani shy, and enjoying the game, Jade feigned death, gagging a few times then lying back on Tani’s rump, carefully keeping a hold on the buckle of the reins, just in case.
‘Very impressive!’ Mrs Thompson boomed again. ‘We thought young Rebecca had it in the bag, but this double-act is excellent.’
‘Double-act?’ Becca looked confused. ‘It wasn’t planned, was it?’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Mrs Thompson said. ‘They make a good pair, one way or another. Would the Cowboy and the Indian please come to the centre?’
Returning to life and smiling briefly at Ryan, who seemed all of a sudden reluctant to be paired up with a girl, Jade steered Tani towards Mrs Thompson and the Fancy Dress Cup.
‘And, in second place, could we have Rebecca, please?’
Trying not to look disappointed, Becca joined her best friend and her cousin, to accept the blue ribbon rather than the cup.
‘I thought your costume was funniest,’ a voice called as the winners finished their lap of honour.
‘Thanks, Andy,’ Becca said to their pony club friend. ‘Why didn’t you enter?’
‘I don’t really like dressing up, and Piper’s still so unpredictable — it would have been embarrassing if she bolted in front of everyone. I’m impressed that you went bareback, Jade.’
‘Wasn’t Tani good?’ Jade was pleased that Andy had noticed.
‘Superb. He seems to be really settling down.’
‘I don’t think he’ll ever be as quiet as old Pip, but I’m a lot less scared of him now. Six months ago I would never have ridden without stirrups, let alone without a whole saddle.’
‘Speaking of Pip,’ Andy said, ‘have you found her a new home yet?’
‘No. One family has looked at her, but they weren’t really right. Why? Do you know someone?’
‘I reckon I do. My Aunt Flora has a riding school out at Ocean Bay. She was telling my mum last night that she needed a new beginner’s mount — just for lead-rein walks along the beach and stuff.’
‘Really?’ Jade asked. ‘That sounds perfect.’
‘She’s in town next week. Would you mind her viewing Pip then?’
‘I guess not.’
Jade wasn’t sure whether this was actually good news. She seemed to have found the perfect home for Pip, but that would mean her first pony wouldn’t be around for much longer.
Aunt Flora was what Jade’s granddad would call a ‘character’. She pushed her heavy black-framed glasses up the bridge of her nose and called to Pip in an implausibly high voice. ‘Let me see you, my darling one!’
Andy had warned Jade that her aunt was ‘a bit weird’ and could sometimes be ‘not mean, just scary’. This was a fair description, Jade had thought as she watched the aunt in her stonewashed jeans, ancient work boots and bright purple blouse slam the door of her Morris Minor.
A woman apparently accustomed to doing several things at once and everything quick-smart, Aunt Flora ignored Jade’s welcome and got straight down to business, firing off question after question about Pip. ‘Who owned Pip before you?’ The awkward story of Pip’s rescue from the pound made Flora raise her eyebrows. ‘What work had Pip done before her illness?’ Jade’s proud mention of the showjumping championships also fell flat. Flora, it seemed, was not a fan of jumping. It was only when asked about Pip’s soundness and quietness that Jade felt capable of answering satisfactorily.
‘Definitely sound enough for short lead-rein beach walks? Definitely quiet enough for tiny beginners?’ Flora interrogated Jade one last time.
‘Yes and yes.’ Jade produced the vet certificate she had had prepared, stating that Pip was now well enough for very light riding.
Flora squinted at the page — first peering over the top of, then through, her glasses. ‘Hmm,’ she said finally. Jade couldn’t tell whether this was a good or a bad ‘Hmm’.
‘Just go and say hello to Pip, Flora,’ said Andy, who had come along to give Jade moral support. (Her aunt needed no such thing.)
‘All right.’ Flora sighed, before again emitting the surprisingly high and affectionate greeting, ‘Come here, my beauty, my little chicken.’
Even Jade had never treated Pip to such sickening endearments. The old black mare raised her head quizzically, like a person who isn’t quite sure if a ‘hello’ is meant for them or someone else.
‘Come and say good morning to Aunt Flora, angel.’ Flora felt in her jeans pocket and found a slightly withered chunk of carrot. ‘Morning-tea time?’
Jade smiled, watching the funny aunt and her beloved pony meeting. Seeing the carrot and sensing the kind tones, Pip pricked her ears and joined them at the fence line. Taking the carrot gently in her lips, Pip rested the side of her face against Flora’s shoulder as she chewed.
‘We will be fine friends, won’t we, my love?’ Flora said, stroking the pony’s mane.
‘Tangled and full of burrs,’ Flora announced, looking at Jade.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jade said hurriedly, wanting to point out that there was, at most, one or two burrs stuck in Pip’s mane. ‘I thought I’d got them all out.’
‘She’ll be given a wonderful, caring home at Samudra — my riding school,’ Flora went on. ‘I think she’s just what I’m looking for.’
Andy clapped her hands together. ‘Awesome! I knew she’d be perfect.’
Jade, stinging a little from Flora’s complaint about Pip’s mane, tried to match Andy’s enthusiasm. She thanked Flora profusely.
‘It makes it much easier to say goodbye to her, knowing that she’s going to a kind home,’ Jade said, hugging her old pony’s neck possessively.
‘Pip will be treated like royalty — you needn’t worry,’ Flora said. ‘Largely, she’ll just be a paddock mate to steady the young ones who don’t go out on the treks. I think she’ll make a wonderful minder for them. And, when there are very nervous or inexperienced clients, she’ll go for short rides, and never so much as break into a trot. The sea might do her feet some good, too.’
It did indeed sound like the perfect home — the only place that Jade could bear to send Pip to after her comfortable life at Mr White’s.
‘When are you going to collect Pip, Flora?’ Andy asked.
Jade imagined dismantling the temporary fence of the diet paddock, pulling out the pigtail posts and coiling up the electric tape. She swallowed.
‘Next week, if that’s convenient for you, Jade? I have to come back to town then anyway, to run some annoying errands. Those French backpackers who’ve been helping with the horses for the last fortnight are moving on. It’s a real pain coming up to high season. There’s enough work for Nellie and me as it is, and with all the summer holiday riders and without those two extra pairs of hands, well I just don’t know how we’re going to manage. I mean, they could barely speak English and learnt the ropes painfully slowly, but we’ll still miss their help.’
‘So, you need two extra pairs of hands?’ Andy asked.
‘Yes, badly.’
‘What about Jade and me?’
Jade glanced at Andy, eyes wide. ‘What?’ she mouthed behind Flora’s back.
‘Would you?’ Flora asked, her voice softening as if the girls were horses. ‘It’d be hard work, you know. Not just a riding holiday — though there would be plenty of riding, too, of course. You�
��d be welcome to bring your ponies. Speaking of which, is that handsome boy yours, Jade?’ Flora was pointing at Taniwha, who, startled by the workers thinning apples off the trees behind the back paddock, had begun a slow, showy trot along the fence line, tail high in the air.
‘Yep, that’s my monster — Taniwha.’
‘What is he? Anglo-Arab cross?’
‘I think so. Anglo-Arab and Kaimanawa.’
Flora looked at Jade with new interest. ‘Do you know anything about endurance riding, Jade?’
Jade had heard of it, and told Flora as much.
‘That pony has real endurance potential, if you ask me.’
‘Flora rides in endurance races and breeds horses especially for it,’ Andy explained with some pride.
‘If you do decide to come with Andy and help me over the summer, bring Taniwha!’ Flora demanded. ‘We can have a go at training him up.’
‘Wouldn’t that be cool, Jade, if Tani really loved endurance racing? He’d finally be good at something,’ Andy said.
Jade wanted to object and say that Tani was a really good jumper when he wasn’t manic, but instead agreed weakly.
‘This is so exciting! Will you take us back with you when you collect Pip next week, Aunt Flora?’
‘Don’t call me “Aunt Flora”,’ said Aunt Flora. ‘It makes me sound like an old spinster.’
Jade opened her mouth, but closed it again quickly.
‘Anyway, yes, provided your parents don’t mind me whisking you away and turning you into slaves over the holidays, I’ll take you back with me next Wednesday. You are sure that you can hack the work? Early mornings, more than just your own pony to care for?’
‘Yes!’ Andy shouted. ‘I can’t imagine a better way to spend the summer.’
Jade thought back to the summer before Pip got laminitis. There had been shows every weekend, no school, nothing to do but ride. Of course, it hadn’t been the best summer — and that was an understatement. Jade’s first summer without her mum had not been easy at all. But she had coped. With Pip and her granddad, Jade had coped.
‘Won’t it be amazing, Jade? Nothing but swimming, riding and working with horses all day,’ Andy sighed happily.
