by Kate Lattey
“Bit boggy, isn’t it? All that overnight rain didn’t help.” He frowns and looks across the jumps. “Better only jump them once each, or Dad’ll have a fit about us tearing up the ground.”
“You first then,” I tell him.
Alec wheels Jack around and sets him at a canter towards the row of upright barrels. Jack takes off early and flies them, kicking up his heels in mid-air. They jump the course cleanly, although Jack is pulling like a steam train as usual, and Alec has to work hard to keep him under control.
“Your turn,” he tells me and I trot Trixie in a circle before cantering her towards the barrels.
She canters steadily forward and jumps over, doing just enough to get over cleanly. Trixie doesn’t believe in expending unnecessary energy, unlike Finn, and I have to admit that despite her bouncy canter, she’s a lot easier to ride. I turn her to the left and she jumps the gate, then we swing right towards the tyres. She slips slightly on the turn and we take the fence very ungracefully, but manage not to knock the pole down. Next is a double of flimsy poles and Trixie jumps the first but skids a little on landing. I push her on for the second element and she jumps it, but knocks the top rail down.
“What the hell are you kids doing?!”
Uh oh. I pull Trixie up to see Alec’s dad walking towards us, his face like thunder. His dogs are at his heels, and they cower at his raised voice. I feel sick to my stomach as he reaches the fence.
“Stop ripping the bloody ground up! What’s wrong with you?”
His anger is all directed at Alec, who sits stoically on his pony, meeting his father’s eyes but without any expression apparent on his face.
“Sorry,” he mutters.
The air is thick with tension.
“You know better than that,” Liam scowls at his son. “What were you thinking?”
Their heavily pregnant border collie has slipped through the fence and is standing next to Alec’s pony, wagging her tail and looking up at him adoringly. I fix my eyes on Magpie instead of looking at Liam or Alec, staring at her swollen stomach, wishing I could talk Dad into letting us have one of her puppies. It’s a battle I’m unlikely to win, but I focus on it so that I don’t have to listen to Liam swearing at his son.
Alec has slid off his pony’s back by now and is leading him out of the paddock. I stay on Trixie but follow Alec as his dad strides off. Magpie is still at Alec’s heels, following him devotedly until Liam glances around for her and whistles sharply.
“Git over here,” he snaps at her, and Magpie slinks over to him with her tail between her legs.
“I’ve got stuff to do,” Alec tells me without meeting my eyes. “Sorry.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he’s walking away from me already. I sigh and call after him.
“I’ll take Trix for a canter up the logging road.”
Alec raises a hand to show he’s heard me and keeps walking, his shoulders slumped.
For a while, I’m worried that Alec’s father is going to stop him from going to our opening Pony Club rally. He’s been keeping him so busy with farm chores that Alec has barely had time to ride his ponies, but when I get to their farm on Saturday morning, Alec is leading Jack across the yard and up the ramp into their dilapidated horse truck.
“Late as usual,” he teases me as I scramble to get Trixie out of the paddock.
“My alarm didn’t go off!” I yell back to him, but he just laughs.
“Oldest excuse in the book.”
Trixie is standing under the trees and giving me a slightly wary look, but she stands still as I hurry up to her, and allows me to slip the worn halter onto her chunky head.
“Are you going to be a good girl for me today?” I ask her as I lead her towards the gate.
Trixie bunts me with her fuzzy nostrils, offended that I would even think that she wouldn’t be a perfect angel, and I give her neck an affectionate scratch. It’s nice to have a dependable pony to ride for once. There’s nothing flashy about Trixie, but she’s got an easy-going attitude and a willingness to work that my pony doesn’t always share.
Finn is standing in the yards, eyeing us suspiciously as I lead Trixie past. She flattens her delicate ears back towards her mane and rolls her eyes threateningly at the dun mare, who stoically ignores her. I pass Trixie’s rope to Alec, who’s standing halfway up the lowered truck ramp, and he clicks his tongue to her. She scrambles up the ramp willingly and slots herself into the truck without complaint, her fluffy ears pricked. I collect her tack from the woolshed and stack it in the accommodation, then run to give Finn a quick goodbye kiss as Alec’s mum Tabby starts the motor.
Finn is unappreciative of my kisses but eagerly snatches up the pieces of carrot I’ve brought her. Her whiskers tickle against my arms as she sniffs around for more, then she scowls when she realises there’s nothing left, and stomps away across the muddy yard.
I leave her with a sigh, and scramble into the cab next to Alec. He’s got his feet on the dashboard as he tries to wipe the worst of the caked mud off his boots, and Tabby turns the radio up as we bump out over the potholes in their driveway. The sun is warming the air around us and I lean back against the worn seats with a smile, kicking my own feet up onto the dash as we drive down the hill and head towards Ratanui.
A couple of hours later, I’m sitting on Trixie’s broad back with my feet dangling next to my stirrups, listening to our Pony Club’s Head Coach as she pulls out a sheet of paper and waves it at us.
“Quick announcement before you all rush off,” Jenny tells us. “As you probably know, Cambridge Show Jumping Champs is in January, and we’re running a three-day training camp the week before Christmas. If you want to be considered for a place at camp, you should be competing regularly up to a metre-ten, and preferably posting clear rounds. The West Coast team will be named at the conclusion of the camp.”
“Why up to a metre-ten?” Tegan asks. “The Intermediate team at Cambridge only have to jump a metre.”
“True, but it’s a big event, with a lot of pressure and often some very spooky jumps,” Jenny replies. “We’d prefer riders who are established and competitive at bigger heights, so that nerves don’t get the better of them on the day. Now, who’s interested in trialling?”
She flips open a notebook, and Sarah, Amy, and Alec immediately volunteer their names. Natalie shakes her head, saying that she wants to focus on Show Hunter this season, and although Jenny looks slightly dubious when Tegan announces her intentions to trial, she duly notes down her name too before squinting up at me in the late-morning sun.
“What about you Jay? Something you’d be interested in?” She sounds sceptical, which I know is because she doesn’t think much of Finn and her unpredictable mood swings, but I’m still irritated by her doubt.
“Of course.” I try not to sound as offended as I feel. “Finn will be fit again by then. She’s only got a couple more weeks off before she can come back into work.”
“And if she’s not, Jay can keep riding Trixie,” Alec adds.
He’s trying to be helpful, but the way that Jenny’s eyes light up when he says that doesn’t escape my attention. Trixie has jumped well for me at the rally today, and she’s just the kind of pony that would be good in a team competition. Steady and dependable, always turning in a decent round. Not like Finn, who can be brilliant one day and a disaster the next. But I can’t help feeling slightly betrayed as Jenny writes my name down in her notebook and closes it firmly.
“That makes five from this branch then, and I’m pretty sure Greenaways and Kapanui Pony Clubs have a few candidates too. It’s going to be competitive, but I think we’ve got some strong riders here, so we’re in with a good shot.”
“How many people make the team?” I ask.
“Two in each grade. Plus a reserve.”
“That’s it?” I’m stunned, and starting to realise just how competitive it’s going to be.
“Two Juniors, two Intermediates, two Seniors,” Jenny confirms. “We had two f
rom two from Ratanui last year,” she adds proudly. Sarah and Amy give each other a smug high-five, and Tegan pretends to throw up off the side of Nugget. “Let’s see if we can do it again.”
She turns away, and we disperse. Tegan jogs Nugget up alongside me, the black pony straining at the reins as Sarah and Amy ride ahead on their matching bays.
“I hope neither of them make it,” she says bitterly. “I hope their ponies go lame and they fall off at every show.”
I grin at her. “That’s the spirit.”
CHAPTER THREE
On Sunday morning, I wake to the sound of rain on the roof. Groaning, I dig around under my pillow for my cell phone and send Alec a text to see if we’re still going to the show, or whether I can stay in bed. I close my eyes again as I wait for a response, and I’m starting to drift off again when I hear it beep.
Get up lazybones your not gonna melt! Dont worry its supposed to clear up soon
With a sigh, I drag myself out of bed and, shivering, quickly throw some clothes on before hurrying downstairs for a cup of coffee. Chewy greets me by thumping his tail on the floor cheerfully.
“Top of the morning to you too,” I tell him as I boil the jug and start rummaging under the kitchen sink for the boot polish.
“Morning.” Dad wanders into the room, and Chewy immediately gets to his feet and goes to lean against his legs, earning a rub on the head for his efforts.
“Coffee?” I offer as I pour the steaming water into my mug.
“Mm, thanks. Where are you off to today?”
“Just Ratanui, with Alec. I’m riding one of his.”
“Ah.” He nods thanks for the coffee I put in front of him and rubs Chewy’s floppy ears. “Not the best weather for it.”
“Not right now, but Alec reckons it’ll clear. Have you seen the boot polish?”
My phone beeps as he shakes his head. “You checked under the sink?”
It’s Alec again.
Get a move on we r loading the ponys!
“Oh crap, I’m late,” I mutter, grabbing up my unclean boots and jacket.
“Want me to drive you down?”
I grin at Dad as Chewy runs for the door, his ears having detected the word drive. “Hell yes.”
The rain isn’t letting up as we drive the truck into the sodden show grounds. The ground is already muddy and there are wet horses and riders everywhere. Tabby pulls a face.
“The ground’s going to be awful out there,” she mutters.
“Gonna have to put big studs in today,” Alec agrees, leaping out of the truck to guide her into a parking space. I watch him, blurry through the rain-spattered window, calm and undeterred by the inclement weather.
We leave the ponies on the truck for the time being and go over to the rings to check the conditions. Tegan sees us approaching, and launches herself into a bizarre prance.
“It’s my anti-rain dance,” she explains when I question her sanity. “It’s going to stop raining any minute, I swear.”
“Uh huh,” I reply, unconvinced as I pull the collar of my oilskin closer around my neck.
“It’s going to do this all day, they reckon,” Alec says.
“You said it was supposed to clear!”
“I lied,” he admits and I gasp in outrage. “Had to get you out of bed somehow. I needed a groom.”
I punch his arm as hard as I can, but he just laughs.
“Now children,” Tegan scolds us. “No bickering. I’m glad you’re here. I need backup dancers.” And she continues her mad frolic in a circle around us.
“In your dreams,” I tell her, watching as a big chestnut horse slithers to a stop in front of a jump and sends poles flying.
“Better go put those studs into our ponies’ shoes,” Alec mutters and we return to the truck.
Screwing in studs is a pain in the neck at the best of times, but it’s even worse in the rain, with mud all over the ponies’ hooves and cold water trickling down your collar. Fortunately Alec hasn’t trusted me to do them since I cross-threaded Trixie’s studs at a show last season and got them stuck, so I just stand there handing studs to him while he screws them in. He can get them tighter than I can anyway.
Trixie stands placidly, tearing at her haynet and seeming unfazed by the weather. Last night I managed to force her thick mane into a series of bumpy plaits that look a bit dodgy close-up, but not too bad from a distance. And at least she was patient while I fumbled around, unlike Finn who always tosses her head repeatedly the entire time she’s being plaited up. I throw a blanket over Trixie’s back before I mount, pulling it across my knees once I’m in the saddle, and we head over to the ring.
Tegan is already there, splashing across the grass on Nugget, who’s pulling like a train and bucking frantically any time another pony rides past him. I halt Trixie next to her mum and tighten my girth.
“Hello Jay,” Chandni greets me. “Lovely day, isn’t it?” she adds sarcastically.
I pull a face. “Yeah, fantastic. Nugget looks a bit full of himself,” I add, watching Tegan struggle to stay in the saddle.
Her mum rolls her eyes. “I’ve offered to buy her a new pony, but she won’t have a bar of it. I don’t suppose you could try talking some sense into her? I want her to do well, but she’s never going to get anywhere on that pony.”
I slide my leg back into position and watch Tegan for a moment as Nugget bounds past us. “No chance,” I tell her. “She’s determined to make it on Nugget or not at all.”
Chandni groans. “She’s stubborn, like her father.” I smother a smile, fairly certain that Tegan doesn’t get her temperament from her mild-mannered dad. “If she just tried another pony, I’m sure she’d realise what she’s missing out on. She doesn’t have to put up with that,” she mutters as Nugget skids to a halt at the base of the practice jump and half-rears, his small ears flattened back against his drenched neck.
“She’s going away on PE camp next week,” I remind her mother. “You could always buy her a pony while she’s gone.”
I expect Chandni to roll her eyes or laugh at my ridiculous suggestion, but she looks thoughtful. With a sense of foreboding, I quickly turn Trixie away and pick up a trot through the sludge, hoping I haven’t put any ideas into her head. Springing a pony on Tegan that she hasn’t even had the chance to test ride would be the worst possible way to buy her a new one. Surely her mother wouldn’t even consider it, I tell myself. Nobody would.
When we finally get a chance to walk the course, the ground is slush beneath our feet and Alec is deeply unimpressed.
“This is going to be fun,” he mutters sarcastically as we slosh our way around.
He’s not wrong. There’d have been no point polishing my boots this morning anyway, even if I had found time. There are only a handful of riders still here, bothering to walk the course as the rain continues to come down.
“D’you think we’ll get a full day?” I ask Alec as we stride out the double, and he shrugs.
“Who knows? They’re cancelling the bigger classes, because everyone’s scratching. We’ll get through this one though.”
Tegan is ahead of us on the course walk, head down, still fuming over Nugget’s bad behaviour in the warm up. We meet her at the gate. I haven’t even bothered to walk the jump-off. I’ve read the course plan, so I know which fences to take, but it will be a miracle if anyone makes it around this course clear in the first place.
As it turns out, I’m not far wrong. By the time I get into the ring, ninth to go out of only eleven riders, no-one has managed a clear round. Tegan tried to go flat out around the course, but Nugget skidded so hard on the turn into the green oxer that he fell clean over, dragging a thankfully unhurt Tegan through the mud. She left the ring with her own personal storm cloud over her head, and I know from previous experience that she’s best avoided for the rest of the day. Alec took Dolly slowly over the first four fences, but she knocked three of them down so he retired her, knowing it wouldn’t do her fragile confidence any good to
meet a similar fate to Nugget.
And now it’s my turn. I trot Trixie in and listen for my bell. It rings almost before I’m through the gate – the judges aren’t mucking around today. Muddy water splashes up from Trixie’s hooves as we approach the first fence at a steady canter. The slippery ground and pelting rain doesn’t seem to bother Trixie, and she jumps neatly over the first jump. I forget about the weather and focus only on the jumps in front of me, sitting up tall on the corners and keeping the pony steady and balanced. We go wide around some of the turns, avoiding the slipperiest patches, and Trixie jumps with a calm competence that has little to do with me. It’s not until we’re cantering through the flags after the last jump that I realise I’ve gone clear, and now I have to do the instant jump-off.
I pull Trixie up and glance around the course. It’s the first fence onto the black and white poles, then the oxer, then the flowerboxes. Or is it the green and white spread next? Dammit. Maybe I don’t remember the course as well as I thought. I see Alec waving at me on the other side of the ring and trot casually past him.
“One, two, five, seven, three AB, nine,” he calls and I nod to him, quickly memorising it.
The bell rings and we canter back through the flags. I don’t rush it, not wanting to make Trixie fall, and I don’t forget the course again. She rattles the top rail of the last upright, but we get home without any faults.
“We have our first double clear of the class, to Jay Evans and Magic Trix,” comes the announcement, and I’m smiling from ear to ear as I ride out of the ring.
“Looks like hunting taught you something after all,” Alec grins at me. “Nicely ridden.”
I jump off Trixie and throw her rug back over her, then shoulder into my oilskin while we wait for the last two riders. The first girl is on a piebald pony that dives out at the second fence and sends her off over its shoulder, but last out on the course is Anneke Davies. Today she’s riding a Roman-nosed Appaloosa that I’ve never seen before, and she jumps a clear first round as well. But halfway through her jump-off, the pony tries to run out of the gate on his way past it. Anneke kicks him on but he fights her, skidding to a halt and rearing angrily a couple of times before she gets him back under control. She finishes the course clear, but with a very slow time. The gate steward calls us in quickly and I find myself back in the ring, halting Trixie at the head of the line.
