Clearwater Bay 2- Against the Clock

by Kate Lattey

  “That was the longest afternoon of my life,” I complain bitterly as I collapse onto my camp stretcher, hot and sticky and covered in dirt and sunscreen. The stretcher creaks alarmingly, but holds together as I lie flat on my back and stare up at the dust motes floating across the ceiling in the afternoon sun.

  “I bet. Poor you,” Anneke says sympathetically.

  “Finn hated it. She usually improves when we do flatwork but she just got worse and worse. My arms still haven’t recovered from how hard she was pulling, and all Eleanor told me was to put her into a stronger bit.”

  “She does get away from you sometimes though, right?” Anneke asks me. “Biscuit used to run through the jumps until I changed him into a Pelham, and it made a huge difference. Gave him a few good schooling sessions in the draw reins too, which also helped.”

  “Hmm.” I’ve always been told by my instructors that draw reins are bad for your horse, and only people who can’t ride properly resort to using them, but Anneke’s a great rider and her ponies are beautifully schooled. I make a mental note to look into that when I get home.

  “What kind of bit would you put on Finn?” I ask, only to be interrupted by a knock on our open door. We both look up as Alec sticks his head through.

  “We’re going to the river for a swim. You guys coming?”

  Anneke jumps to her feet. “Definitely. Are we bringing the ponies?”

  The afternoon improves immensely once I’m on Finn’s bare back in shorts and a bikini top, riding down to the river in the late afternoon sun. Anneke jogs Danny up alongside me and we follow Alec and Noah down to the river. The sweet smell of flax flowers lingers in the warm air as we push our way through the overgrown track, pulling our bare legs out of the way of the encroaching vegetation. Finn starts crowding Dusty’s broad hindquarters, making the dun pony swish his tail at her, and Noah turns around, planting one hand on his pony’s rump as he glares at me.

  “Gonna get that mad thing under control, or d’you want Dusty to boot her?”

  I narrow my eyes at him, and take a tighter hold on the reins. Finn flings her head into the air and waves it around, and Noah chuckles as he turns back to face forward. Alec gives Jack his head and the pony slides down a steep bank and onto the riverbed below. Dusty follows suit, but Finn’s head is still in the air and she barely sees the drop before she gets to it. She baulks, freezing for a moment and then launching herself into space, jumping down onto the stony riverbed.

  “You idiot,” I tell her as I grasp her mane while she recovers her footing. The boys are laughing and I turn to see Anneke sliding Danny neatly down the bank and riding over to me.

  “That was dramatic,” she grins.

  “That’s Finn. Always looking for ways to make me look stupid.”

  A flicker of pity crosses Anneke’s face. “Aw, she’s just excited.”

  She looks over at the boys, who’ve already urged their ponies into the water. Jack is already mostly submerged, only his head and half of his neck visible above the waterline, but Noah’s having some trouble getting Dusty to cooperate. The dun pony has planted his hooves in the shallow water and has clearly decided that he’s going no deeper. His stubborn expression is set, and he’s determinedly ignoring Noah’s bullying heels against his round sides.

  I pick up my reins, ready to send Finn charging past Noah and prove that my pony is better than his, when Anneke cuts me off.

  “Hey, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” I relax the reins slightly, and Finn shakes her head, then lays her ears back at Danny.

  “Is Alec…I mean, are you guys…y’know. Like, a thing?”

  “What?” It takes me a moment to realise what she means. “No! A thousand times no,” I tell her firmly. “Why do people keep asking me that? Is it not possible for a boy and a girl to just be friends?”

  Anneke looks surprised by my reaction. “Okay, settle down. Sheesh. I was just asking.”

  “Never going to happen,” I assure her. “He’s like my brother.”

  “Okay,” she replies. “Well, that’s good to know.”

  And before I can ask her what she means by that, she’s headed Danny into the water and is riding straight towards Alec and his wide, welcoming grin.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  This is more like it, Finn seems to be saying as she flies eagerly over the jumps the next day. Steph has regained her confidence in letting us jump, after an apparently successful lesson with Anneke’s group in which nobody did any nose-dives into the ground, and we’re finally getting to show what we can do.

  Steph watches us carefully, but it’s almost impossible to tell what she’s thinking. Her philosophy seems to be to leave us to figure things out for ourselves, instead of relying on her to correct us every five seconds. Makes sense, I decide. After all, when you’re in the ring, you’re on your own.

  “Okay Jay, your turn. Red oxer, green vertical, curving line down to the planks. Add a stride, which means do it in six, so don’t let her fly down there in five. Off you go.”

  Finn jumps the first two fences well, and we’re halfway down to the planks when I remember that Steph said to add a stride into the line. Quickly I sit up and pull Finn back, telling her to shorten her strides, but instead my pony skids to a stop, crashing into the fence and knocking it down.

  Annoyed, I give Finn a smack with my whip as I turn away from the jump.

  “Don’t do that!” Steph tells me, and I turn to face her in surprise. “You forgot to add, and you tried to do it at the last minute. She got there wrong and had nowhere to jump from. Don’t punish your pony for having more sense than you do.”

  Steph replaces the rails as I feel my face burning with embarrassment, and I pick up a canter, apologising to Finn. This time I steady her as soon as we land, counting out the six strides, but when we get to the second jump, Finn refuses again. My frustration is building, but I look at Steph before I react, sure that she’ll know what went wrong.

  “You can’t add all the way to a jump and then forget to put your leg on. Again.”

  We go again, and this time we make it over both jumps. I give Finn a big pat and look over at Steph, but she’s preoccupied with picking out her next course.

  “Red oxer, yellow oxer, green vertical, white wall. Jump that once each then I’ll put everything up.”

  I swallow hard. The jumps are already set high, and I haven’t jumped Finn at all since our disastrous rounds at Taupo, let alone over big fences. I watch nervously as Sarah jumps the course, and of course Mickey doesn’t put a foot wrong. Alec has a rail down, but Jack makes up for it by clearing the next two jumps by miles.

  “He’s a quick learner, I like him,” Steph says, then turns to me. “Okay Jay. No stopping this time.”

  Easier said than done, I think to myself as I pick up a canter and approach the first fence. Finn hesitates and I give her a little kick with my heels. She springs into the air, stalling over the jump and hitting the back rail on her way down.

  “More canter!”

  I frown and push Finn forward, and she increases the power of her canter stride down to the oxer. She flies over and we make the turn towards the green vertical.

  Two strides out, Steph calls to me again. “Slow her up, make her wait!”

  I sit up and take a pull on the reins. Finn throws her head up and pokes her nose into the sky, and forces me to soften my hands so that she’ll see the jump and not just run into it. One stride out I let her have her head, but she immediately swerves to the right, sending me flying off over her shoulder.

  I pick myself up, more embarrassed than hurt as Finn canters back to the other ponies and Steph walks up to me. “You okay?”

  I nod, wiping at the frustrated tears leaking from my eyes. Alec is leading Finn over to us and I step forward and take her reins.

  “Again,” Steph tells me.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!” I tell her in frustration.

  “Lots of things,” Steph replie
s mercilessly. “You’re either killing the canter out of the corner or you’re running her flat to the fences. Then you keep dropping the contact and taking your leg off when you don’t find your spot. You can’t make it all her job, you have to contribute too. Don’t just sit up there trying to look pretty, and actually ride.”

  Alec sticks up for me. “Maybe she’s sore,” he suggests. “She doesn’t normally stop like this.”

  Steph shakes her head. “It’s the rider, not the pony. Here, give me your helmet and I’ll show you.”

  I take my helmet off and hand it to her, then step back and watch as Steph swings easily into Finn’s saddle. She picks up a trot almost immediately, and it’s not long before Finn is trotting smoothly around the arena, soft and flexible, responding immediately to every aid that Steph gives her. She pushes her into a canter and Finn doesn’t even argue or try to rush, just settling into a rhythm and relaxing as Steph circles her, first a big circle then a smaller one, then in a straight line past the jumps. Steph shifts her weight to the left and touches the rein, and Finn executes a perfect flying change. I’m torn between being incredibly jealous that someone else can ride my pony so much better than I can, and completely spellbound at how amazing Finn looks.

  “Now, this is what I mean when I say ride her forward,” Steph calls to me. She sits up straighter and sinks down into the saddle a little more, clicks her tongue to my pony and puts her leg on. Finn’s stride grows bigger and more powerful, but she’s not rushing or strung out, the way she gets when I’m on her.

  “She needs to learn to keep her rhythm,” Steph calls to me as she canters past, bringing Finn effortlessly back to a steadier canter. “Right now she’s staying in this nice rhythm, and I can let the reins go soft…” and she visibly opens her fingers on the reins. Finn’s canter doesn’t change. “And if I want, I can take a contact and ride her more forward, open her up a bit.”

  As she demonstrates, I see a couple of the Senior riders leading their horses past, then stop to watch when they realise Steph is in the saddle. I brim with pride at how beautiful my pony is, and how amazing she looks. Steph brings Finn back to a walk and gives her a pat, letting the rein go loose. Finn doesn’t jog, or toss her head – she stretches her neck down and relaxes.

  “How does she do that?” I ask Alec, who shrugs.

  “Voodoo.”

  “That’s how you want to ride her on the flat. This is how you need to jump her.”

  Steph touches Finn into a canter and rides her down to the broken line. Finn throws her head up and starts to run, but Steph steadies her effortlessly, and my pony jumps perfectly through in six even strides. I can see Finn relaxing, realising that she’s in the hands of a competent rider for once. Steph turns her left and takes her over the wall and the blue oxer, always in the same steady rhythm. Her seat is light and balanced, her hands are soft on the reins, and Finn’s ears are pricked, her eyes alight. I’ve never seen my pony look so happy.

  Steph brings her back to a trot and gives her a pat. “This pony can really jump!” she tells me. “She’s got a huge amount of spring in her.”

  “Put her over some real fences!” calls one of the Senior girls from the gate.

  Steph grins at her, then picks up a canter and heads Finn towards the huge jumps set up at the other end of the arena that the Seniors were schooling over this morning. I’m immediately nervous, but Steph doesn’t hesitate as she steers Finn towards a massive white oxer with a Liverpool underneath it. I hold my breath, wondering if Finn will spook at the blue tray under the jump. My pony’s ears are up, her hind legs are tucked well under her body and she looks like she’s enjoying herself. Then, three strides out, Finn notices the water tray and baulks, eyes goggling. Steph sits down in the saddle and clicks to her and, showing a trust in her rider that I’m pretty sure my pony has never felt before, Finn keeps going and flies over the jump, tucking her forelegs up tightly to avoid rubbing it. They land smoothly and Steph gives her a quick pat as she turns her to a big vertical, which Finn clears easily, giving a little kick of her hind legs over the top rail just to be sure.

  Now Steph is aiming her towards an enormous triple bar. I can barely breathe, but Steph guides Finn to the perfect take-off spot and my pony jumps it easily, making it look effortless. Steph stands up in her stirrups and gives Finn’s neck a firm rub as she trots back over to me and brings my sweating, puffing pony to a halt. Kicking her feet out of the stirrups, she looks down at me.

  “Nice pony. Knows how to jump, that’s for sure. Hop back on and walk her for a bit, then you can do the line again. Okay Sarah, let’s see you go.”

  I walk Finn for the next few minutes while Sarah and Alec jump, then Steph calls me back over.

  “Right Jay,” Steph says. “Same exercise. Yellow vertical, left to the white gate, then round to the broken line. Get it in five this time. Off you go.”

  I pick up the reins and squeeze Finn into a canter. In my head, I can see how easily she responded to Steph’s aids, how balanced she was right from the start, but she’s not the same when I ride her. Her head shoots up when I ask for the canter and she is rushing already, I can feel it.

  “Slower,” Steph calls and I tighten my reins.

  Finn throws her head up and I have to lean back to avoid being smacked in the face, then realise that we’re at the jump already. I let my hands go forward and put my leg on, but Finn swerves and ducks out to the side, refusing the fence.

  I stay in the saddle, but lose a stirrup and feel myself turning red.

  “What happened there?” Steph asks me, and I look at her, standing in the middle of the ring full of self-assured confidence, knowing that she can do it perfectly while I keep stuffing it up. I almost hate her for a moment, but I hate myself more, for being unable to do what she could. There are no excuses left – it’s not Finn’s fault. It’s mine.

  “We went too fast,” I tell Steph.

  “And?”

  “I softened my hand.”

  She nods. “And?” I look at her blankly, trying to think what else I did wrong. “How many strides did you do?”

  “Um…”

  “You didn’t count! You tried to do it in four long flat strides, and when you got to the second fence your pony was not balanced and you just threw the reins at her and expected her to go. She’s not stupid,” Steph tells me. “Help her out. Go again, and this time ride like you want it! Don’t be afraid to take charge, but don’t be too hard on her either. It’s a delicate balance, and you’ve got to find the tipping point. Off you go.”

  We go again, and Finn jumps in well, but we still end up too close to the final fence, and although she jumps it this time, she bucks hard on landing, almost sending me off over her head.

  “Hey!” I tell Finn, pulling up on the reins to bring her head up. “What was that?”

  “She’s telling you off,” Steph says with a smile as she rebuilds the fence. “Keep coming, do it again. You set her up wrong, and she was not impressed.”

  Steph seems pleased, for some reason, grinning at Finn as I canter back around. I concentrate hard this time, thinking about keeping the rhythm all the way to the jump, counting under my breath as we meet it well and clear it. I sit up, steady her and finally we get it. Six even strides, we find a good distance, I put my leg on and keep the rein contact…and Finn soars.

  “I saw your pony jumping with Steph today,” Anneke says as we stand in line for dinner that evening. “She cleared that triple bar by miles!”

  “I know, she’s amazing,” I agree. “I wish we could’ve kept going for a while longer.”

  It seemed like the moment I’d worked out what I was supposed to do, our lesson had been over. I pour gravy over my meal before we walk over to our table and sit down with the rest of the Intermediate riders. Alec strikes up a conversation with Anneke, who’s looking at him as though he’s saying something incredibly fascinating. She really doesn’t have to work that hard.

  Just smile at him a couple of times
and he’ll be all over you like a rash if he so much as thinks you’re interested, I think idly as I sit down. Alec probably can’t believe his luck. I catch a snippet of their conversation, overhearing Pip’s name, and then Brad’s, which catches my attention for a second. Alec hardly ever talks about his brother, but I realise he’s probably telling Anneke about his ponies, since all except Jack were hand-me-downs from his older siblings.

  “Oh, we forgot to get drinks,” Anneke mutters as she picks up her empty glass.

  “I’ll get them,” I offer, standing back up.

  Steph is near the water cooler and talking to Savannah, one of Central’s Senior riders. They’ve got their backs turned and don’t notice me as I approach.

  “I saw you having fun on that chestnut pony today,” Savannah is saying.

  “Yeah, it’s super,” Steph replies, and I flush with pride as I start filling the cups. “Shame the kid can’t ride it to save her life.”

  I freeze, feeling like I’ve been punched in the stomach as Savannah gives a mocking laugh. “Yeah, I noticed. The pony can’t stand her.”

  “Such a waste,” Steph says with a sigh. “I could double clear that pony around a Grand Prix course tomorrow, but that kid will be lucky if she makes it around Cambridge without falling off. It’s a shame. That pony could go all the way with the right person on top.”

  My hands are shaking as I turn away, hoping they won’t notice me. I walk slowly back to our table, trying not to let my emotions show on my face, then sit down and start poking at my food, my appetite gone.

  The rest of the evening passes in a blur. I try to put Steph’s words out of my head, but I can’t help hearing them over and over, running like a loop through my head.

  Can’t ride it to save her life.

  I could double clear that pony around a Grand Prix tomorrow.

  I hate to see a good pony being wasted.

  The worst part is that she’s right. My failings with Finn have been my fault, not hers. I’ve always known that, deep down, but I’d also thought that Finn and I would work towards Grand Prix together. Not that she’d be ready to take it on well before me. That I would be the one holding her back from achieving her full potential.