Clearwater Bay 1- Flying Changes

by Kate Lattey

  Amy dumps a saddle, bridle and a box of brushes by one of the covered yards and tells me to give Pan a quick flick over. I take his cover off and brush him, then put his tack on. Sarah brings over his tendon boots and insists on putting them on herself, which seems a little overprotective to me, but I say nothing.

  We mount up and head out of the yard, both twins riding in suede half-chaps and shorts. I’d have been shot if I’d shown up at Jigsaw’s yard in shorts. One girl rode in her school skirt one day, and she was given a stern warning by the yard owner, who said it simply wasn’t safe, not to mention very untidy, and didn’t fit in with the ‘look’ of the yard. I won’t need to worry about those kinds of standards here, I think to myself with a wry smile as I let the stirrups down several holes. Amy turns in her saddle.

  “Ready to go? We’ll just ride around the orchard today. We put you on Pan ‘cause we haven’t seen you ride before. No offence, just don’t want you getting chucked off or anything. You’ll be safe as houses on him, he’s super well-behaved.”

  Pan is far narrower than I’m used to, and he walks slowly, making me have to constantly nudge him to keep up. Sarah takes the lead and Amy rides behind her, twisting in her saddle to chat to me non-stop about their ponies. I learn that Sarah’s bay is named Mickey, that he’s a well-trained jumper that she got last year for her birthday, and that her other pony is named Penny, and is a dapple-grey show pony. Amy’s other pony is Sputnik, and he’s also a show jumper but is turned out at the moment due to a nasty hock injury.

  “Which he only got because Topaz kicked him. Now he’s out for at least six weeks, and I’m stuck riding her all the time. Stupid mare.”

  But for all of her complaining, Amy doesn’t seem to mind Topaz’s antics too much. Every time Sarah changes pace, the palomino bucks and tries to gallop off, but Amy seems relaxed about these shenanigans, and despite yelling at the little mare, does little to punish her for it. I try to imagine Topaz at the yard back home, knowing that she’d have had that bucking naughtiness schooled out of her quickly. That was a definite advantage to having a professional rider around to school your pony. Rio had improved immensely when Charlotte had started riding him once a week for Becky, giving him the proper training that he needed.

  Sarah turns in her saddle as we ride through rows of apple trees. “How’re you doing Jay? Pan behaving himself?”

  I nod. “Yes, he’s lovely thanks.”

  And he is. Despite the fact that I still feel like I’m perched on a rail with ears, he’s got a soft mouth and his paces, if a little slow, are comfortable and smooth. He lacks the perky exuberance that Zeke had, but he trots and canters along calmly and I’m free to look around me and not worry about him playing up.

  Sarah canters on, and Amy and I follow suit as the ponies start up a gentle rise. Sarah’s pony has a long stride and quickly gets further ahead. Topaz tries to buck, but Amy keeps her head up and sends her on, keeping her well under control until a magpie flies out of a hedge up ahead. Mickey shies and shoots forward into a full gallop, Topaz starts madly fly-bucking with excitement and Amy sails over her shoulder to hit the deck hard, right in front of me. I jerk Pan to the side to avoid trampling her, and pull him up quickly. Amy’s sitting on the ground swearing loudly.

  “Flipping pony! I can’t wait ‘til Bee has to ride her and I can get a proper young one that’s not gonna try to kill me constantly. I hope not all of Gem’s foals are going to be so awful.”

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  She nods. “Oh yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m gonna have another bruise tomorrow though.” She looks up the row of trees, but there’s no sign of her pony, or Sarah. “I think you’d better go look for Sarah,” she tells me.

  I turn Pan and push him into canter. He sets off steadily, and resists my urging him to go faster. I sit down harder in the saddle and give him a little kick with my heels. He pins his ears back and pigroots angrily, so I give up and let him canter slowly up the track. It curves to the right and we turn the corner to come face to face with Sarah, sitting on her pony, and right next to her on her grey pony is Natalie. I pull Pan up sharply to avoid crashing into them, and he puts his head up and opens his mouth in resistance against the bit. Natalie and I regard each other with mutual dislike as Sarah asks after her sister.

  “She’s fine, she’s back there. Did you find Topaz?”

  Sarah shakes her head. “She will have gone back to the yard. She does this all the time, but she always goes straight home. She’s like a boomerang. Just let the reins out, let Pan relax,” she adds and I realise that I’m still holding the reins rather tightly. I let them out loose and pat Pan’s neck. He drops his head to crop the grass, and I quickly tug his head back up. Sarah’s eyes narrow slightly and Natalie glares directly at me.

  “Jay, this is Nat. She lives down the road, we ride together a lot. Her place backs onto ours, and we put a gate in the boundary fence last summer so we can ride on each other’s farms whenever we want.”

  That explains why she’s riding around their orchard, but not why such seemingly nice people could be friends with a nasty girl like Natalie.

  “We’ve met,” Natalie says haughtily. “She’s the one I was just telling you about, who made Zeke lame yesterday.”

  My face burns, and I open my mouth to defend myself, but Sarah cuts in, clearly reading the tension between Natalie and I.

  “Let’s get these ponies back. Just let him walk out Jay, he’s still puffing a bit.”

  Natalie rides alongside Sarah, and I’m left to trail behind them as we go to pick up Amy. I watch them talk with their heads together, and I know that Natalie’s saying all kinds of awful things about me. Brilliant. So much for making new friends, now they’re all going to hate me and I’ll have to ride the Harrisons’ mangy ponies, and I shudder at the thought.

  Twenty minutes later Natalie has ridden home with her nose in the air, and Sarah is barely speaking to me. I put Pan’s rug back on and she holds out her hand for his leadrope.

  “Thanks Jay, I’ll take him.” She leads him and Mickey away, so I lean on the fence and watch Amy turn Topaz out into a field on her own. She comes back swinging the leadrope and singing a pop song to herself, already recovered from her fall. We tidy the gear away, and she chatters to me non-stop as we work. I like Amy, although she talks so fast that I still can’t understand what she’s saying half the time, but I don’t think her sister shares her good opinion of me. My suspicions are confirmed when Sarah gets back.

  “Thanks for coming Jay. We better get going, we’ve got heaps of stuff to do before school starts.”

  Amy looks at her sister in confusion. “What stuff?”

  “Well you’ve got to dye your hair back, for starters,” Sarah points out, and Amy rolls her eyes.

  “True. It was good to meet you Jay. Come ride with us again soon.”

  I start to agree but Sarah cuts me off. “We’ll call you if we need you. See ya.” She walks over to the tack room and slams the door shut. Amy looks surprised at her sister’s rudeness.

  “I don’t know what’s up with her,” she says to me. “I hope you do come again. I’d let you ride Spaz, but you probably don’t want to die. Sarah might let you ride Penny though.”

  Sarah walks past without looking at me. “Come on Amy, I’m starved.” Amy shrugs apologetically at me and follows her sister up the driveway to the house, leaving me standing alone at the stables. How incredibly rude, I think to myself as I start walking back towards the road. Now I’m going to have to walk home, and it’s absolutely miles.

  These boots were not made for walking. I’ve been trudging towards home for almost an hour, and I’m still only about half way there. My feet are killing me, and I have huge stinging blisters on both heels. I sit down in the grass by the side of the road and tug my boots off, then walk on, sock-clad down the empty road. I limp along the gravelly edge, keeping my eyes down as the sun bakes the back of my neck and burns my pale English skin. Tears start to roll down
my face as I stumble along, feeling hopelessly miserable and very far from home.

  I hear the gravel crunching behind me and turn to see a Land Rover approaching. Quickly scrubbing at my tears, I move to the side of the road where I step on a sharp rock, making me cry out and lurch forward in an extremely undignified way. The mud-spattered Land Rover stops next to me and the woman in the front seat leans over and pops the door open. She looks to be in her mid-forties, with curly reddish hair and small brown eyes.

  “Hi there. Want a lift?”

  “More than anything in the world,” I tell her, not even caring that she’s a complete stranger. She looks friendly and that’s good enough for me right now. She grins as I climb into the Land Rover and slowly lower my sore feet to the floor.

  “Excuse the mess,” she tells me as I rest my feet on a mixture of old newspapers, feed bags, wisps of hay and a tatty blue halter.

  “That’s okay,” I tell her. “Beggars can’t be choosers.” She laughs as we move off and I introduce myself. “I’m Jay Evans, I live in Valley Road. It’s just up ahead.”

  She nods. “I know where you live. I’m Tabby Harrison.”

  I nod slowly. Of all the people to pick me up, it would have to be one of the Harrisons. “I met your daughter Pip yesterday,” I tell her to make conversation.

  “She told me. Said you might be interested in Snoopy?” Tabby glances at me, and I shrug.

  “I don’t know, it depends on what my dad says about getting a pony. I mean, he said he would buy me one but that was before I arrived, and we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it yet.”

  “Looks like you’ve already got some riding in,” she says, looking at my clothes.

  I sigh. “Yeah, with the McLeods.”

  “Ah.” We drive on in silence for a moment, and she reaches the intersection and heads up Valley Road. “They’ve got some nice ponies.”

  “Yeah. I don’t think they like me much though,” I tell her, surprised by my own honesty. There’s something about Tabby that makes me instantly feel like I can tell her anything. She has the same relaxed attitude as her daughter, and despite my aching feet I’m starting to feel more comfortable than I have in days.

  “Well if you want to ride you don’t have to go so far. We’re just down the road as you know and Alec has five ponies in work at the moment, so there’s always something that needs riding.”

  “Five?” I ask in surprise. “How does he get time to ride them all?”

  “He doesn’t,” she laughs. “That’s the problem. He’s hoping that you’ll be keen to ride with him, give him a hand.”

  She drives past her ramshackle farm and up to my house.

  “Thanks so much for the lift,” I tell her as I get out of the Land Rover.

  “No problem. I hope your feet aren’t too sore,” she replies. “If you’re recovered all right tomorrow, come down for a ride. The kids will take you out for a good blat around the hills.”

  What the hell, I decide suddenly. The other kids around here all hate me, maybe Alec will be different.

  “Okay,” I tell Tabby. “I’ll come down in the morning.”

  “I’ll tell them to expect you. You can ride Snoopy if you like, see how you get on with him. Then you can start nagging your dad.” She grins and I can’t help but smile back.

  Dad’s computer is ancient, and makes this awful grinding noise when I turn it on. He uses a dial-up internet connection which is interminably slow, but after the longest fifteen minutes ever, I manage to get online and check my emails.

  Becky has emailed me, telling me all about how well Rio is going and how she jumped almost four feet the other day. Rio isn’t that brave of a jumper, and Becky’s always had a tendency towards exaggerating the truth, so I’m dubious about that, but I have no evidence either way, so I click Reply.

  Hey Becky!

  OMG I miss u 2, soooooo much! This place sux. I am bored out of my brain. my dad has this awful stupid dog that sheds hair everywhere and threw up in the kitchen last night while we were eating dinner. So disgusting I cant begin to tell you. All the kids here are horrible snobs, especially this one girl who has accused me of laming her sisters pony. As though it was my fault, which it wasn’t…

  I look back over the message and picture Becky reading it, telling people about it, everyone back home finding out that I’m miserable and sad and alone. I delete the message and start again.

  BECKY!

  I miss you too :( Sounds like Rio is going awesome, send pics soon! Life here at the bottom of the world is ok. I start school the day after 2morow, worse luck. Dad’s house is tiny but my room is cute and has a view of the sea. I went riding today with some local girls and 2morow I’m going riding with this boy down the road. I’ll be getting my own pony soon tho, can’t wait. Everyone here has their own farms so no bossy livery yard managers to be yelling at me! Hah, bet you’re jealous about that.

  Lots of love and hugs to u and Rio,

  J. xxx

  It’s not entirely untrue, I decide as I glance back over it. I hit Send and then click through some online equestrian ads. There are a few ponies that look nice, and I decide it’s time to make sure that Dad is actually going to uphold his end of the bargain.

  I raise the subject at dinner, which for a wonder isn’t fish and chips, although baked beans on toast isn’t much of an improvement. I pick at the food for a few minutes before summoning my courage to ask.

  “Were you serious, when you said I could have a pony?”

  Dad laughs. “I wondered how long it would take you to bring that up. Well,” he says, clearing his throat and resting his knife on his plate, “I don’t see why not. It’d be nice for you to have something to keep you busy, but you’d have to be committed to it, prepared to look after it yourself and everything.”

  I can’t contain my grin. “Of course!” I assure him. “I’ve done lots of work at the stables at home, I know all about looking after ponies. I want to get a show jumper. In England I was only jumping low fences, but I’d like something full-sized, and fairly young, so that I can bring it on and sell it when I go…”

  I break off abruptly, wondering if I’ve hurt his feelings, but Dad smiles ruefully at me. “I know you’re planning on going straight home when you finish school,” he says calmly. “But hey, who knows, maybe when the time comes you’ll change your mind.”

  Not likely, I think to myself.

  “In the meantime,” he continues, “that all sounds fine to me. Feel free to start looking.”

  “Miles ahead of you,” I grin. “I was on the computer today and there’s one I really like for only eight thousand dollars.”

  Dad chokes on his baked beans, and gulps down some water quickly. “Eight grand? That’s a helluva lot of money. I was thinking more like two grand, max.”

  I stare at him in shock. “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack,” he replies. “I’m not made of money Jay, in case you hadn’t guessed.” He motions to our surroundings. “It’s been a rough few years, and I’ve only just climbed out of the red. Two grand is my absolute limit.”

  He shovels another forkful of beans into his mouth and watches me as I fight back tears of disappointment.

  “But I can’t get a decent pony for that little money,” I tell him, the lump in my throat betraying my emotion.

  Dad turns sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I wish I could afford a ten thousand dollar pony for you, but I just can’t. I’m sure it’s not impossible to get a decent pony for that price, and like you said you can improve it and increase its value.”

  “But two thousand dollars is only about eight hundred pounds!” I cry, still choking on my words. “You can’t buy a pony for eight hundred pounds unless it’s lame, or half dead, or a flea-ridden bag of bones.”

  “Well, you could always ask the Harrisons. I’m sure they’d sell you something cheaply,” he mutters.

  “They do have one for sale actually,” I tell him. “For six thousand. And
I’m supposed to be going to try it out tomorrow, because I didn’t realise how stingy and unreasonable you were going to be about this! What am I supposed to tell them?”

  “You’ll have to tell them that you can’t afford it. I’m sure they’ll understand. Frankly, I’m surprised they’re asking that much for one of their ponies. Sounds a bit like wishful thinking to me.”

  I shake my head, but I’m too upset to speak. Dad sighs and lays down his knife and fork. He rests his elbows on the table and his chin on his knuckles and stares across the table at me.

  “I had a chat with Bill about expenses. What with shoeing and vet bills, plus grazing and feeding and going to shows and all the other costs involved, two thousand is the absolute most I can afford this year. So if you blow the whole budget on buying the pony, you’ll have to pay for the rest yourself.”

  I stare at him in horror. “What? That’s so unfair!”

  “I don’t see why,” he argues. “Bill said his girls work in the orchard during the holidays to help out with the costs for theirs.”

  “What, so you want me to get a job? As well as go to school and look after a pony?”

  His forehead creases. “You shouldn’t need a job. Your Gran transferred your bank account details over here before you arrived. You’ve got…” he takes a breath, tentative about broaching the subject. “You’ve got your mother’s life insurance money.”

  The air around us shimmers with tension, so thick you could cut it with a knife. I feel my hands start to shake. Dad starts to say something, but I push away my plate and go up to my room, almost tripping over the stupid dog on the way out of the kitchen. Throwing myself onto my bed, I bury my head in the pillows, struggling hard not to cry.