Clearwater Bay 1- Flying Changes

by Kate Lattey

  “We were asking two and a half,” she says after a moment. “But if that’s really all you have…”

  “It is,” I tell her adamantly. “I would pay you more if I had it, but I don’t.”

  The woman sighs. “Your father is paying for the pony, you say?” I confirm that, and she asks me to put him on the line, to discuss the finer details of the sale. That’s the last thing I want to happen.

  “He’s not home,” I lie. “But he’s good for it, for the two grand.”

  Another long pause. “You’d be getting a bargain. That pony is very well-bred.” I hold my breath as she thinks it over. “Well she’s no use to me, standing around eating grass all day. I suppose I can let her go for that price. But I’d better not see her back on the market next week for twice the money, or I’ll be making an official complaint.”

  I can breathe again. “Of course not, I wouldn’t do that! I’ll keep her forever. Thank you, so much.”

  “Yes, well.” She sounds slightly annoyed, but for myself I can’t believe that Finn is going to be mine. My very own pony, for real, at last.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It’s a sunny day with barely a breath of wind as the ponies make their way across the rolling sand dunes and onto the flat expanse of beach. From the top of the dunes, we can see our way clear up to the point. The beach is barren and deserted, a perfect galloping place. Finn has been all mine for a full week now, and it was Tegan’s suggestion to take her for ‘a good blat’ down the beach to celebrate. So far, I’m loving every minute of riding my pony. Her neck is arched, her ears pricked forward and she’s dancing under me and tugging at the reins, eager to get out onto the long stretch of sand just ahead of us. We step down onto the beach and she prances excitedly ahead of Lucky, a bundle of energy and delight, ready to stretch her legs and gallop. Alec glances over at me and grins. Tegan is already struggling to hold Nugget as the little black yanks at the reins, desperate to get going.

  “If we don’t start soon, Nug’s going to buck me off,” she warns us.

  Alec touches Lucky into a canter and Finn and Nugget burst off after him. Tegan and I are side by side, going like the clappers, and she catches my eye and grins, then releases her tight hold on Nugget’s reins and urges him forward. I do the same with Finn and within moments she’s clear of the other ponies, racing up the beach at full tilt. The powerful surge of her stride and her sheer speed takes my breath away. I lean forward, knuckles pressed into her neck, pushing my heels down as we gallop on. I glance over my shoulder to see Tegan and Alec now well behind me, their ponies no match for mine. I hold the moment around me, drinking it in, knowing that tomorrow when I’m sitting in my maths class, boxed in and bored stiff by algebra equations, I’ll remember this. When I’m ninety years old, wheezing in an armchair, I’ll be able to close my eyes and remember this ride. This joy, this freedom, this clarity of speed.

  Nothing lasts forever. Finn begins to tire and flags slightly, dropping from her early burst of exhilarated speed to a steadier gallop. We’re almost halfway down the beach now, and I sit up a little and rein her in. She is strong in my hand, but she does slow down, and soon I have her back to a canter. Tegan draws level with us and Finn bursts forward again, wanting to remain in front. Tegan is out of breath and Nugget is blowing heavily, and we are soon walking on a loose rein and waiting for Alec to come up behind us.

  “I knew I should’ve brought Jess,” he complains as he finally catches up and reins in a very relieved Lucky. “This thing is so slow in a straight line.”

  “Nugget’s fast for his size,” Tegan says. “He did well at the beach races last year, he’s so determined. But Finn! Wow, she’s wicked fast.”

  I can’t stop grinning. “That was brilliant!” I lean forward and fling my arms around Finn’s neck. “Best pony ever,” I tell her.

  I can hear Tegan muttering something in defence of Nugget, but I tune her out as we wander up the beach, picking up another short canter as we approach the point. Alec points out the rocky cliff that he and some friends once climbed to the top of. It’s a few hundred feet of sheer rock, with jagged rocks at the base.

  “You’re kidding, you climbed that? You’d have to either be very drunk or very stupid,” I tell him.

  “Yeah. We were both.”

  Tegan points out another spot in the dunes near us. “That’s where I saw a naked guy.”

  I stare at her. “WHAT?”

  “He was one of those naturalists, you know, a nudist. It was pretty gross, he was like sixty years old. And he had this tiny little dog, one of those wire haired terriers or something. It was all covered in this curly grey hair and so was he. You know what they say about people looking like their dogs!” she laughs, and I pull a face.

  “That’s disgusting!”

  “Trust you to notice him,” Alec teases her.

  “He was pretty hard to miss!” Tegan insists through my laughter.

  We turn around a couple of hundred metres short of the point and immediately Finn starts tugging at the reins and jogging.

  “She’s got a good sense of direction,” Alec says.

  “She knows which way dinner is,” I laugh. “Shall we canter?”

  The way home isn’t quite as fun as the way there, as Finn is a champion eater and hates to have her feed late. She pulls my arms almost out of their sockets, and jogs every time we are supposed to be walking.

  “Can’t you make her walk?” Tegan whines at me. “She’s winding Nugs up.”

  The little black pony is eyeing Finn, who is now jogging sideways down the beach and refusing all of my best efforts to make her settle down. Nugget’s getting on his toes, and has a sneaky look in his eye.

  “He’s about to buck me off,” Tegan complains.

  “I can’t help it,” I complain. “She won’t settle.”

  Alec gives a satisfied sigh behind me and Tegan and I turn to glare at him. Lucky is walking calmly down the beach and Alec is lying on his back in the saddle, resting his head on Lucky’s broad rump, feet on his pony’s shoulders, reins hanging loose around the bay gelding’s neck.

  I catch Tegan’s eye, and tip my head forwards in a subtle nod. She grins, getting it immediately, and we both kick our ponies forward at the same time. They shoot off, leaving a lurching Lucky in our wake with Alec scrambling to sit up and get his reins and stirrups back. Laughing aloud, I steer Finn towards the water, and soon she is cantering through the surf, sending sprays of salt water up and soaking us both.

  Becky!

  OMG I rode Finn on the beach today. She was AH-MAY-ZING. Wish you could have been there. Rio would’ve loved it. Finn is so fast, she left the other ponies MIIIIIIILES behind her. We cantered through the water and Alec almost fell off, it was brilliant!

  School is going ok, but I think I will have to sign up for cooking again next term because I’m sick of Dad’s dinner failures. All he knows how to make are omelettes and spag bol so half the time we eat fish and chips. If he keeps it up I’ll get so fat I will squish Finn flat! She’s getting nice and fat now and her coat is getting shiny, I have been taking lots of photos so you can see the improvement!

  Dad’s stupid dog is trying to stick its giant head in my lap and is drooling on me – YUCK! GO AWAY DOG! – so I better go.

  Love Jay x x x

  I click Send and shove Chewbacca out of the way.

  “Stinky mutt,” I tell him as he pads sulkily out of the room. He walks into the living room and lies down on his mat in front of the fireplace, glaring at me for following him into the room, as if I don’t live here too and can’t choose which room to be in. Dad’s fallen asleep in front of the TV again. He’d gone out to the pub after work and alcohol always knocks him out real early, even though he always insists he’s only had ‘a couple of quiet ones’. I take the remote control and turn the TV off, and he wakes up groggily.

  “Oh, hey Jay. Sorry, was I keeping you up?”

  I shake my head. “I was just going to bed. Goodnight.”
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  Finn’s flat work is improving slowly, although I quickly realise that I don’t know much about schooling my own pony and Tegan and Alec aren’t a lot of help. I’ve been looking forward to my first Pony Club rally on her, hoping to get some pointers from the instructors there, until Tegan informs me that it’s been cancelled because everyone is going to the Horse of the Year Show. Alec is taking Lucky and Jess, and I’m going with them and staying in their truck. We’ve all got the whole week off school, because Tegan told me that it’s the big horsy holiday of the year, and it’s compulsory for me to attend.

  It’s all any of us are thinking about the weekend before, and Alec even enlists my help on Monday to get his ponies washed and their tack cleaned in preparation. I can’t wait to get up there, but on Tuesday morning, the day we are supposed to leave, I wake up feeling horribly ill. I manage to get downstairs before I vomit into the toilet, and spend the rest of the day in bed. Dad diagnoses me as having a stomach bug, claiming that there’s a nasty one going around, but I’m fairly certain it’s the chicken he cooked last night, which was a bit squishy and pink in places. I’d barely eaten any and Dad had scoffed a whole plate of it down, which is why he says it can’t have been the cause, but he has a cast iron stomach, probably from years of inadvertently poisoning himself.

  I spend Wednesday in bed, madly texting Tegan as she supplies me with constant updates on the show and how Alec’s getting on. He’s managed a third place on Jess in a metre-ten class and won a metre-fifteen on Lucky, so he’s had a great show so far against tough competition. Tegan isn’t riding because her mother didn’t consider Nugget to be good enough to compete at the biggest show in the country. World War Three erupted at their house over it, but her mother put her foot down. Tegan had been mollified by the fact that her mum refused to take Maddie’s pony either, but Lizzie has taken Tish, and much to Tegan’s disgust has done very well in the showing classes during the week.

  I’m feeling better on Thursday morning. Dad thinks I should go to school but I convince him that I don’t feel that much better and promise to spend the day working on my English assignment. Once he leaves for work, I walk down to the Harrisons’ and take Finn for a ride. She’s full of energy and we have a fun long canter along the logging road, all the way to the overlook at the top of the ranges. The view from up here is beautiful. It’s almost the same as what I saw on that first day, but now I’ve come to know and love this place, and I appreciate it much more. It’s a blindingly sunny day and the ocean is a sparkling blue. From up here I can see the neat rows of vines in the McLeods’ kiwifruit orchard, Tegan’s house and its matching barn, the big brick house that Natalie lives in, and out further towards the beach, the row of shops and small country church. Finn fidgets restlessly beneath me and I turn her back down the logging road, heading for home. It’s steep and slippery, but she makes her way down without stumbling once, surefooted as a mountain goat.

  I’d planned to exercise Dolly and Trixie as well, just for something to do, but I’m so tired from riding Finn that it’s all I can do to stagger home afterwards and fall back into bed.

  On Friday morning I’m feeling much better, and I ride Finn again in the early morning. Pip is driving down to the show and very kindly takes a detour via the Bay to pick me up, although she claims that she was coming this way to check on her dad anyway. It’s a long drive to Hastings but Pip keeps me entertained with stories about the ponies she’s been breaking in. We arrive late in the afternoon, just in time for the Friday Night Extravaganza. Tegan has saved us seats in the grandstand to watch Alec jump Jess in the Pony Six-Bar competition, which isn’t like anything I’ve seen before. Six uprights in a row with two strides between each progressively higher fence, and anyone who clears all six fences gets through to the next round with the fences raised yet again. It looks like great fun and I’m keen to try it on Finn. Jess is a bit overwhelmed by the crowd and unfortunately knocks the last jump down in her second round, eliminating herself. Tegan and I groan loudly as Alec trots out of the ring, shaking his head in disappointment but still sparing a hand to pat the ugly mare’s neck.

  Once the performances finish, we get some food and spend the evening wandering around the show grounds, looking at everything and chatting to people we meet. We’ve pitched a pup tent just outside her family’s rented caravan and lie there talking late into the night. We finally doze off well after midnight, snuggled down in our warm sleeping bags, thrilled to be surrounded by the top horses and riders in the country.

  The next morning Tegan insists that we disappear before we can get bullied into helping Lizzie get her pony ready for the Paced and Mannered Championship. I’m fairly certain that if even Tegan did offer to help Lizzie she’d be turned down, but I don’t point this out and we wander around the show grounds for an hour, standing in line to buy waffles and icecream for breakfast before settling down in the grandstand to watch the young horse jumping finals.

  As the victory lap music plays and Tegan claps along, I flick through the catalogue and find a horse called Final Notice that is due to be competing in the show hunter arena. I drag Tegan over to look for it in case it’s related to Finn. She complains loudly about how dull show hunter classes are, being all form and no fun, but I quite enjoy watching the small ponies and their tiny riders popping over the little fences in the pony ring. After almost an hour we finally see Final Notice in the hack ring next door, but he turns out to be a very solid black hunter and not possibly related to Finn.

  “The name must be a coincidence,” I tell Tegan, eliciting a rather angry response from my bored friend.

  “Nice work, Sherlock. Now we’ve wasted hours watching these stupidly boring classes,” she grumbles, earning herself several irritated looks from nearby competitors.

  I reassure her that we’ll go back and watch more show jumping, but right then she gets a text message from her mother to tell her that Lizzie is about to go in for her final judging and that Tegan must come and support her sister. Somewhat reluctantly, we head towards the showing ring, where we take a seat under an oak tree and watch several pretty show ponies trot and canter around the ring.

  Tish looks beautiful as she trots smoothly around, eyes dark with makeup, her blaze and socks painted blindingly white. Lizzie is still and quiet in the saddle, her hands soft on the reins, guiding Tish through her workout with grace and purpose.

  “She looks great,” I tell Tegan’s mum, who beams proudly at me.

  “We’ve been at her since six thirty this morning, but it’s all been worth it,” she agrees.

  “She looks like someone punched her in the face,” Tegan mutters. “Why you had to give her two black eyes I’ll never know.”

  “Oh be quiet,” her mum tells her. “Go and get some food or something,” she adds, thrusting money at her daughter.

  When it comes to food, Tegan never needs telling twice. She leaps to her feet and disappears to the food stalls behind us. She’s still there, standing in line for a burger, when Lizzie is called in for the Reserve Championship, a great achievement for the pony’s first Open showing season, her mother tells me with delight. Lizzie seems a little disappointed, claiming to have beaten the pony that won the title several times before, but is philosophical about it.

  “Tish didn’t put a foot wrong, she couldn’t have been better,” she gushes, hugging her pony fiercely. “She was brilliant.”

  Tegan returns to congratulate her sister briefly before dragging me off to do some shopping.

  “Showing is so stupid,” she mutters to me as we pass a horse in the dressage warm-up arena fly-bucking his way down the centreline. “It’s so subjective, all depends on if the judge likes your pony on the day. At least in jumping, you either get over the jump or you don’t.”

  We wander around the trade stalls, and in the corner of a saddlery tent, I find the perfect saddle for Finn. It’s a beautiful dark brown jumping saddle, the leather soft and supple, shining in the dim light of the tent. I run my hand over it in
admiration as the stall owner comes over to me.

  “That’s a great saddle, and it’s half price,” she tells me. “Only $899, and you’ll never get one that cheap again, it’s a Horse of the Year special.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I reply. “What size is it?”

  “Sixteen and a half inch seat, medium gullet. And it comes fully mounted, stirrups and girth included.”

  I want it so badly, but I know that I only have six hundred dollars in my bank account. I tell the woman that and she shakes her head.

  “Sorry, I can’t let it go for less than $899. Maybe you can convince your parents?”

  “They’re not here,” I explain. Tegan arrives at that moment and exclaims over the saddle as well. I have a moment of concern that she’ll want it for herself until she discovers the width of the gullet, which will never fit Nugget’s broad back.

  “Get it for Finn!” she tells me determinedly. “It’d be perfect, and if it doesn’t quite fit her you can get it restuffed. I know a guy, he did Tish’s saddle last year and it fits like a glove now.” I tell her that I can’t afford it, but she shrugs me off. “Mum will stake you the money. Honest, she won’t mind. You’re good for it. Come on, let’s ask her.”

  After demanding that the saleswoman not sell it until we come back, Tegan grabs my arm and drags me back to their float. Lizzie has changed into shorts and is collapsed in a folding chair beside her pony, who is dozing in the sun.

  “Where’s Mum? Jay needs to borrow some money.”

  “Gone into town with the Munroes. Why don’t you lend it to her?” Lizzie asks her sister.

  “I don’t have enough. She needs three hundred bucks,” Tegan replies, and Lizzie’s eyebrows shoot up under her dark fringe.

  “What are you buying?” she asks me.

  I tell her about the saddle. “It’s perfect and it’s really nice, but I only have six hundred dollars. But it’s okay,” I assure Tegan, not wanting to lower myself to begging her mother for money. “I’ll find another one.”