by Kate Lattey
“Get UP!”
Finn pins her ears and bucks, objecting to being kicked in the stomach. I pull her head up firmly and bully her around to face the jump again.
“Come on Finn,” I tell her. “Behave yourself!”
The pony canters to the jump with her ears pinned back against her head. I keep my legs clamped against her sides, and hold the reins tight. With no option of running out, Finn stag-leaps, all four feet landing together on the other side of the jump. I praise her and canter around to try it again.
“A bit more willingly this time would be nice,” I tell her, lining up the tyres once more. We canter back in but this time she slams the brakes on again, nearly falling over the tyres in her determination not to jump the fence.
My eyes are stinging with tears of frustration. What’s going wrong? Finn was doing so well, and now all of a sudden she won’t even jump these little tyres. My hands are shaking, as every time she stops I’m reminded of the crashing fall I just took. But I’m not letting her get away with this.
“Tegan, can I borrow your whip?” I yell, hating the way my voice chokes a little on the words, betraying to the others how upset I’m getting.
Tegan trots over and passes me her crop as I struggle to stop Finn from trying to boot Nugget.
“Man, she’s PMS-ing today,” Tegan remarks as I kick Finn sharply in the side to move her away from the black pony.
Jenny rides over to dispense some helpful advice. “Get after her Jay. She can do this easy as, she’s just being naughty.”
I take the whip in my right hand and deal two good cracks to Finn’s flank. She squeals and kicks out a hind leg in protest, but taking the reins firmly into my hands, I drive the mare around and approach the jump again. Sitting deep in the saddle, heels digging into Finn’s belly, whip at the ready. Just before take-off, I give the mare a huge whack behind my leg, and Finn jumps. Nearly twice the height of the tyres, ears still flattened against her neck. She lands far out and fly-bucks on landing, sending me straight off over her head and into a gorse bush.
I cling to the reins for all I’m worth, but Finn is determined to get away, and after a few dragging strides through the gorse, I’m forced to relent and I relinquish my grip. I hear her fading hoofbeats as I lie on my back in the gorse, the barbs puncturing my skin, and stare hopelessly up at the bright blue sky.
Jenny decides to quit the entire lesson before someone else falls off, and we all walk back down to the main grounds. I’m alternating between being furious at Finn, and worrying that she’s hurt herself in her headlong gallop. Mostly I’m embarrassed beyond belief, and I can’t stand to even look at Tegan, let alone Natalie and the others. I ignore Jenny’s attempts at conversation, refusing to feel better, wanting to wallow in my misery and failure. So much for making Finn into a good pony. I’m just ruining her, and she gets worse every time I ride her. Maybe I should just give up and go home.
Jenny is talking to Tegan, and I hear her mention Alec’s name.
“What?” I interrupt.
“I said, sometimes you’re better off putting a bullet into them,” Jenny repeats. “When they get dangerous like that, there’s really no other option.”
I feel like my heart has stopped beating. Once again, I can hear the sound of the bullet ripping through the night air, and the eerie silence that had followed the second gunshot. I look up to see a disapproving parent leading Finn towards me, and hurry forward to take my pony’s reins. I fling my arms around the mare’s neck and hug her tight. Finn rolls her eyes and steps backwards, irritated by my affection, but I don’t care. I run my hands down the pony’s damp neck, feeling her warmth and vitality. Alive, I whisper to Finn. Always alive.
“Don’t worry,” I tell my pony. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dad picks tonight to be worried about me, probably because the graze on my face is impossible to ignore. In his latest effort at good parenting, he heats up some baked beans on toast for me while I have a hot shower. I eat it – I’m so hungry that anything tastes good. Then he heads out to the pub to meet his mates and I lie on my bed, staring up at the beams on the ceiling and thinking back over all the events that have led me to this place. If only things could go back to the way they used to be before Mum died and my whole life fell apart.
I’m stirred out of my sea of self-pity as the phone rings. I scramble down the stairs, shove the dog out of the way and answer it. It’s my Gran. After exchanging dull pleasantries about the weather and school, she gets to the point.
“We’ve booked your flights for the holidays in three weeks’ time. You’ll be staying with us but you can arrange spend a few days back in Wimbledon with your friends as well, if you’d like.”
I’m overcome by a sense of relief. “That’s great! I can’t wait to get back.”
Gran pauses, then asks me a rather awkward question. “Are you happy living there, dear?”
My throat tightens and I push the words out, avoiding tears. “Um, I guess so.”
“David said you’ve seemed out of sorts lately.”
I shrug. “I’m just…I don’t feel like I belong here. I miss home.”
As the words escape my mouth, I know they’re true. This isn’t home. England is. England, with its hedge-lined fields and old stone buildings, a land steeped in history. To be surrounded again by people I know and trust, to have proper lessons on well-schooled ponies, to spend drizzly grey afternoons inside with a good book instead of slogging through the mud trying to catch an ill-tempered pony, because all of the responsibility for her welfare rests on my untrained shoulders.
There’s a pause on the other end of the phone, then my Gran sighs. “I’m sorry to hear that. You know, if you’re very unhappy you could come back and live here, with me and your grandfather.”
My heart skips a beat. “Really?”
“Of course, love. We miss our only granddaughter. But we thought you should have an opportunity to try living with your father, and see how it worked out. If it has been a complete failure, then of course you may come back.”
A small part of me hesitates, but the rest of my soul screams out in delight. An escape. “I’d like that,” I tell her excitedly.
“Let’s not make any final decisions now,” she says. “Come over for the hols and if you decide to stay, your father can box up your things and send them over later on. We’ll play it by ear. Now put David on the line, I’ll have to discuss a few things with him.”
“He’s not home,” I tell her. “But I’ll get him to ring you when he gets in.”
I can practically hear her frown, and her voice is snappish. “What time is it?”
“Uh, almost ten.”
“And you’re home alone? Where exactly is your father at ten o’clock at night?” Total disapproval, and I feel sorry for Dad, who’s going to get the full brunt of her wrath when she does get him on the phone.
“He’s out at a meeting,” I lie quickly, but Gran isn’t fooled.
“I doubt that very much,” she replies acidly. “I suspect he’s out drinking. I think you’re right to be coming home. Get him to ring me back as soon as possible, please.”
A few more polite comments, then I hang up the phone and stand for a moment, staring at it, filled with a bubbling elation. I can go home. The more I think about it, the more excited I get. I can go back and see all of my friends again and talk to people who understand me. I can’t wait to tell Becky. I’m about to start an email to her when Tegan pops up in online chat.
hey!
I type back quickly, overflowing with my news. Guess wot! i’m going home!
Tegan seems confused. ??? where r u?
I quickly clarify. I mean I’m going back to england
4 the holidays, she clarifies.
yea but I won’t be coming back.
Her response is instant. WOT??? Wot about finn?
I’d avoided thinking too hard about that, but after today’s disaster at Po
ny Club, it hardly seems fair to keep her. guess ill sell her.
Tegan writes back immediately. But I thought u liked it here
I type before thinking, and it’s only after I’ve hit Enter that I realise what I’ve said. It’s ok but I miss my friends too much.
There’s a long delay, and I wonder if she’s still there. I start my email to Becky, telling her excitedly of the wonderful news. Then another message from Tegan pops up.
i don’t want u to go :(
Before I can think of what to say to that, Tegan signs out and disappears.
* * *
I go down to Alec’s the next morning with some apprehension, not sure whether Tegan will have filled him in already on my new plans. He’s got Lucky in the yards and waves to me, acting like everything’s totally normal. Part of me was hoping that he would already know, because I don’t want to have to be the one to tell him. I chide myself for being a wimp and go to catch Finn.
I try to ignore the heavy stitches still in his cheek, which do make him look somewhat like a pirate. He’s been begging for an eye patch and a parrot, and going around calling everyone “me heartie” all week. Somehow he can see the funny side of every situation, but I can’t. Every time I see the scar or the gap in his teeth, I’m reminded of that horrible night. Yet everyone else seems to be carrying on as normal. Tegan has started calling him “Gappy McGee”, which she claims is his pirate name, and Alec seems oddly unfazed by the whole thing. When I asked him the other day if he was going to get false teeth to fill the space, he’d laughed at me and said it would be a waste of money.
“Like I care how many teeth I have. Long as I can still chew steak, it’s all good.”
He really doesn’t give a damn, I muse as I watch him buckle Lucky’s girth. It’s take him or leave him the way he is, no skin off his nose either way. I wish I could be that self-assured.
We head up the logging road, and I’m struggling to hold up my end of the conversation. The clenching dread in my stomach isn’t going away. Finn stops abruptly, and I look up to see Lucky pulled across in front of her and Alec staring at me.
“Jay. What the hell is up with you?” He looks annoyed, and I know I’m never going to get a better opening than this.
“I’m moving back to England.”
He says nothing, just stares at me for a few of the longest seconds of my life. He’s completely shocked, and I wonder why nobody even seems to have considered that I might leave.
“This has been the year from hell,” I find myself trying to explain. “I just can’t take it anymore. My Dad wishes I wasn’t here, I’m ruining Finn, and after everything that happened with Jess…” I choke up, unable to continue.
I don’t have to. He knows what I mean, and he looks away, the muscles in his jaw constricting, then wincing slightly at the pain that causes him.
“It sucks all round, okay? It’s been hell for me too. But you shouldn’t run away, just because it got a bit hard for a while.”
I shake my head. “You don’t understand.”
“I don’t?”
“NO!” I yell, getting angry now. “Everyone seems to have an opinion on how I should feel, and what should matter to me. I’m the only one who knows how I feel, and I’m not making any apologies for it any more. When your Dad shot Jess, it was like this huge hole inside of me just got ripped open. And I can’t do it. I can’t keep on pretending like it was no big deal.”
“What do you want, Jay? Do you want me to cry about it?” Alec is still keeping his cool, although his hands are hard on the reins and Lucky is sidling under him, feeling his rider uncharacteristically tense. “What’s that going to achieve? Nothing. I’m pissed as hell at my dad for what he did, but I can’t change it and I’ve still got to live with the guy, so I have to suck it up and move on. I don’t have a choice.”
“Well I do.”
“You choose to run away, instead of stand and fight.”
“Are you calling me a coward?”
He looks right at me, and as he meets my defiant expression, his own softens. He suddenly looks sad. “You don’t have to be. Give yourself a chance to be brave. Stick around and fight for what you want. Life’s going to throw some hard passes to you, wherever you are. Running away isn’t going to fix anything.”
I stand my ground. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
He frowns. “It didn’t work the first time, did it?”
I stare at him, unable to believe he just said that to me. “You know nothing about me, okay? You don’t know what I’ve been through, you don’t know how hard this was for me, coming here, trying to fit in. But I don’t! I don’t fit in, and I never will.”
He opens his mouth to contradict me again, then apparently has a change of heart, wheeling Lucky around and kicking him into a fast canter. Finn grabs the bit and races after her friend, but Alec is already galloping at breakneck speed up the logging road. He takes the left track and I let Finn follow him. Not far ahead of us the track narrows, and exposed tree roots make the going uneven, so he’ll have to slow down or risk laming his pony. But apparently today he’s beyond caring, galloping on and sitting tight as Lucky scrambles across the difficult terrain. Lucky is a Kaimanawa who was born in the wild and is naturally very sure-footed, but Finn isn’t. If she tries to gallop over this ground, she’s going to fall, or worse. I sit deep in the saddle and try to pull her up, but she’s not having a bar of it, fully determined to keep up with her friend. I lean back and pull on the reins as hard as I can, fear rising in my throat. Then I remember what Alec told me on that very first ride, when I’d lost control of Snoopy. How long ago it seems now, but his voice is as clear in my mind as if he’d said it yesterday.
“Don’t keep on pulling, he’ll just pull against you, and he’s stronger. Tug then release, tug and release. Trust me.”
I can still see the way he’d smiled at me, the dimple in his left cheek, showing a full row of teeth. I force my heels as far down as they’ll go, and pull hard against Finn, then relax my fingers on the reins. Her stride checks slightly, and I do it again. This time she slows, almost back to a canter. I pull again, and her head comes up high, almost hitting me in the face, but I’ve learnt from that experience too, and keep back out of her way.
“Woah,” I tell her, and bring her back to a straggling trot. She’s still unhappy, but Lucky has disappeared out of sight and she reluctantly drops to an unsettled jog.
“Good girl.” I pat her sweaty neck, and sigh. “Don’t worry. I’ll find you a good home where someone will do a much better job of training you than I have.”
Alec’s still not back when I return to the farm. Nobody comes out to see why I’m alone. Nobody wonders what happened, or if we’re okay. What if something had happened to Alec, and I’d come back for help? I’d be stuck out in the middle of nowhere without a soul to help me. I slide out of the saddle and lead Finn back to the yards. As soon as I take off her bridle she rubs her head against my shoulder, almost knocking me over. Her white star leaves a few white hairs on my shirt. I push her gently out of the way and undo her saddle, pulling it off her back. The sweat from her saddle blanket sticks to my bare arm as I fling her tack onto the railing and lead her over to the hose.
Finn pricks her ears, enjoying the stream of cool water across her hot back, and I make her a small feed. I drag the sweat scraper down her side, flicking water to the ground as she munches through her feed. I go carefully under her belly, knowing how ticklish she is. She swishes her tail and stamps a hind leg, but doesn’t try and kick out at me. I leave her licking the bucket and lug her tack into the woolshed. Standing on the worn floorboards, I look around me again. The smell of sheep manure is as strong as ever, and I think back to the earlier days of summer, when the ewes had been crutched. I’d sat right there on the railing, watching with some disgust as Alec and his dad chopped the manure-encrusted fleece away from their rear ends. Pip had been herding the sheep into the catch pens, and Tabby sending them out the other side. Afterw
ards we gathered up all the dags and threw them on a small trailer dragged by the quad bike, then Alec and I had gone haring across the farm to dump it all in the rubbish pit.
I close my eyes and think instead about the tack room at the yard I rode at in England. All of the saddles and bridles hung neatly on hooks, cleaned every time they were used. White painted walls, an electric heater that ran full-tilt every day during winter, a sink and fridge and an old wooden table that we’d all sat around, reading pony magazines and telling stories. Bright rosettes hanging on the walls and photos of us all riding our ponies pinned to a board by the door, next to a whiteboard with a detailed plan of each horse’s training schedule. I can’t wait to get back to where things are orderly and organised and everything is done properly. I sling Finn’s tack onto the railing and turn my back on the woolshed, jumping lightly onto the grass outside.
* * *
It’s my final Pony Club rally on a Saturday morning, and there’s no sign of Alec as I’m tacking up Finn. Tabby brings me a bacon sandwich and stays to chat for a moment.
“Alec’s not going to the rally today,” she explains. “The ground’s too wet down there for any jumping, so it’s going to be a dressage rally. He’s decided not to bother.”
“I hope nobody’s told Tegan,” I reply, swallowing my mouthful.
We are both quiet as I feed my crusts to Finn before slipping her bridle on.
“I heard that you’re going back to the mother country,” Tabby says casually.
“Yeah.” I don’t know what else to say.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. We’ll miss you around here.”
“I’ll miss you too,” I tell her sincerely. “You guys have been like my family.”
“With you and Pip both gone, I’m going to drown in a sea of testosterone,” she jokes.
I tighten Finn’s noseband and she tosses her head angrily. “How’s Alec getting on with his dad?”
