by Kate Lattey
* * *
Two days later I take the train to Wimbledon to meet Becky. She squeals with excitement when I step onto the platform.
“Jaaaaaay!”
She runs forward, flinging herself at me and I grab her in a tight hug. She squeezes me for just a moment before stepping back and kissing me affectedly on the cheek. I barely recognise the other girls, Sasha because she’s lost all her puppy fat and the other two because they’re not people that we were ever friends with before.
“Girls, this is Jay. Recently returned to civilisation!”
She introduces me to her new friends, all with their straightened hair in the same stylishly messy ponytail, wearing the same thick makeup and dark eyeliner. I’d spent hours this morning trying to get my hair to look as though I’d spent no time on it, and carefully applying makeup. It’s been a while since I bothered wearing much more than a smudge of eyeshadow and a bit of mascara. Becky grasps my hand and drags me along, talking a mile a minute about how we’re going to their new favourite restaurant that they’ve just discovered.
I can hear Tegan’s voice in my head as we walk. These are your friends? They’re exactly the type of girls that she hates. I tell imaginary Tegan to shut up. She doesn’t even know them. And she never will. I’m in a different world now, my world. It’s going to take a while to readjust, that’s all.
Our lunch costs more than Dad would have spent on a week’s groceries, but it’s divine and almost worth the high price. We get some shopping in before Becky’s mother picks us all up in her spotlessly clean Land Rover. I stare eagerly out the window as we pass Wimbledon Common, which I’d always enjoyed as a natural wilderness in the midst of a town, but it seems very tame and subdued in comparison to the rugged bush and hills I’d ridden across in New Zealand. I push away the slight disappointment as Becky asks me if I’ve missed riding on the Common. I tell her that I have, which is true, but not for the reasons she thinks. I always loved riding there with my friends, trotting along beneath the trees and enjoying the envious stares of other children who weren’t lucky enough to have a pony. It had been especially sweet in summer, but even in winter I’d enjoyed the feeling of superiority as we’d bumped past the pedestrians on our fuzzy trace-clipped ponies, hands frozen in our gloves and scarves wrapped tightly around our necks, pretending that we weren’t chilled to the bone.
I let the memories wash over me as I stare out the window, Becky and her new friends having shifted their conversation back to boys and hairstyles and which girl at school committed the most recent fashion atrocity. I wonder at how quickly my friend seems to have grown up. We never used to care so much about those things - it was ponies, ponies all the time with us. Maybe it was the only thing we’d really had in common, but then neither of has had any other real interests anyway. Now it seems that the beloved equines are taking a back seat in Becky’s life. I suppose if I’m going off to boarding school, my life won’t be revolving around ponies and show jumping any more either.
Inside Becky’s room, the changes are even more obvious. Her posters of ponies are gone, replaced with glossy shots of movie stars and pop idols. There are some small reminders of her former obsession - a few rosettes pinned over her bed, and a framed photo of Rio jumping a low fence. I can’t help missing the way her room used to be. The vanity shelf where her ceramic pony collection was once so proudly displayed now exhibits a different type of vanity, cluttered with containers of makeup and hair products and seemingly endless bottles of nail polish. I sit on the bed and feel out of place. Tamara has commandeered the laptop and logged onto Facebook and Amelia is going through Becky’s wardrobe asking to borrow certain designer clothes. Sasha sits down next to me and I smile at her, remembering how she was always the first to notice if anyone was feeling out of sorts. She smiles back, then frowns.
“Can I pluck your eyebrows? They look awful.”
I blink in surprise, then shrug. “Um, sure.”
She leaps off the bed and starts rummaging around on Becky’s dresser as Becky comes over to inspect for herself.
“God yes, they look like little caterpillars,” she chides me. “You’ve really let yourself go.”
“Don’t worry, you have us to fix you up,” Sasha tells me, making me lie back on the bed before she starts plucking away enthusiastically. I try not to flinch too much.
“You’re back in the land of the living now,” Amelia teases.
Becky flops down on the bed with a melodramatic sigh. “So tell us, what’s New Zealand like? Are there really more sheep than people?”
I’m about to answer when Tamara shrieks loudly and insists we all come and look at this picture she’s found online. We gather around and everyone gasps in shock and horror at some girl I don’t know kissing some boy I don’t know. Apparently it’s the worst possible thing, and Tamara is practically in hysterics. It takes the others a good hour to calm her down. I sit on Becky’s bed, one eyebrow still unplucked, with Tegan’s voice in my head telling Tamara to build a bridge and get over it.
Finally Tamara quits moaning about the awful girl who has stolen the boy she fancies, and the others decide to head home. I’m sitting on the bed with a hand mirror, plucking my other eyebrow when Becky comes back into the room and looks at me critically.
“You’re not doing it right. Here, let me.” I pass her the tweezers and she tilts my head back and starts plucking.
“You’ve changed,” I tell her, between winces.
“So have you,” she replies. “You’re still my best friend though. Those other girls are nice, but I hardly know them really.”
I find myself smiling despite the pain. It might be awkward between us for a while, but that’s to be expected really.
“Are you happy to be back?” Becky asks.
“Of course. It’s great. It’s just going to take some getting used to again.”
“You must miss your pony.” Again I nod, and she gives me a gentle hug. “I can’t imagine having to sell Rio. That would be the worst thing ever! We’ll go ride him first thing tomorrow morning,” she promises. “You’re not going to believe he’s the same pony, he’s improved miles!”
As she gushes about her pony, I start to realise that all of these grown-up trappings in her room are part of a show she’s putting on for her new friends. Underneath all the makeup and the perfect hair and the fashionable clothes, she’s still the same old Becky. I throw my arms around her and squeeze her tightly, and she hugs me back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I’m up early the next day and ready to ride, but it takes Becky over an hour to get dressed and apply enough makeup to go to the yard. She’s horrified that I’m not planning to wear any makeup myself, and insists that I at least put on some mascara before we leave the house.
“You’re back in England now, be civilised,” she insists. “You can’t go to the yard looking like that.”
I’ve brought a pair of jodhpurs with me, but they’re stained and scruffy now, so she lends me a clean, newer pair of hers.
Her mother drives us to the stables and drops us off out front, and I’m well impressed by the setup. Not long after I left, Becky’s mother moved Rio to another livery yard, and he’s now being fussed over by several staff members and housed in brand new stables, with all the facilities including an all-weather dressage arena, heated tack room, hosing bays and easy access onto the common. It costs Becky’s mum an arm and a leg, but she says that nothing is too good for Rio. Much like her daughter, she thinks Rio is a marvellous pony and tells me that the yard’s resident trainer has worked wonders on him. They both assure me that I’ll barely recognise him, and I’m really looking forward to seeing how he’s changed. After all, Finn changed dramatically in the five months that I had her, going from an underweight pony with a dull coat to a gleaming and fit show jumper in that short time. I miss her horribly, and push her out of my mind. She’s gone to a great home, I remind myself. Couldn’t have asked for better.
Becky hurries me thr
ough the gate and an old black Labrador dog wanders over to greet us. I stop to pat it, scratching its ears and thumping its belly, but Becky strides on ahead of me, making me hurry to catch up. The yard is built in a traditional U-shape, with stables down three sides. A dapple grey pony is being groomed outside his stable by a brunette girl wearing designer breeches. Becky waves to her and leads me directly to a box with Rio’s name displayed on a large brass plaque. She opens the door, then spins around in annoyance.
“Where is he? Kayla!” she rounds on a nearby groom, who puts down the haynets she’s carrying and walks over to us.
“What’s up?” There’s something immediately reassuring and oddly familiar about the young woman. She tucks a loose strand of dark blonde hair behind her ear and smiles at me.
“Where’s Rio? I asked for him to be left in this morning.”
Kayla frowns. “His name’s not on the board, so he went out at eight with the others.” Becky huffs in annoyance, and Kayla gives her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. He’s in number four.”
I realise as she’s speaking that she has a Kiwi accent, and I’m about to comment on it when Becky introduces me.
“This is Jay, who I was telling you about. She’s been living in New Zealand. Kayla’s from there,” she tells me unnecessarily as she grabs Rio’s halter from the hook outside his stable door.
“Hi Jay,” Kayla is smiling widely. “How’d you like New Zealand? Whereabouts were you living?”
Becky interjects. “Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, right?”
“Clearwater Bay,” I tell them, and as I say it I see the Bay in my mind, the rolling green farmland nestled between the bright blue sea and immense tree-covered ranges. “It’s just out of Ratanui on the West coast, about an hour from Hamilton.”
“Oh nice,” Kayla says. “It’s pretty up there. I’m from Taranaki.”
“That’s where my pony went!” I tell her, unable to contain my enthusiasm. “She’s being sold ‘cause I’m moving back here. Claudia Trent has her on trial, she lives in Stratford.”
“Oh, I know her!” Kayla says. “I used to compete against her sister Bridget. She had a really cute dun pony called Never Say Never.”
“That’s Pickles,” I confirm. “They still have him. Claudia’s been riding him but he’s getting old so they’re hopefully buying my pony.”
“They’re nice people,” Kayla says. “Wow, it’s a small world huh?” She sighs, glancing around the tidy yard. “I miss riding at home. Real different from here! And my poor horse is just sitting in the paddock doing nothing ‘til I get back.”
“Jay!” Becky is waiting impatiently with Rio’s halter and a scoop of pony nuts. “Come on.”
“I better go,” I tell Kayla. “Nice meeting you.” She says likewise, and I hurry to catch up with Becky. “She’s nice,” I tell my friend as we walk to the field.
“Yeah, she’s all right. She hasn’t been here that long and she probably won’t last. Last week she turned Rio out without his rug on, even though it was raining!” She looks at me to make sure I’m fully comprehending the horror. “He got all wet and muddy and disgusting, and I was supposed to ride him, but it took me so long to get him clean that I didn’t have time. I was so mad!”
She goes on, complaining about how they should have known she would be coming down to ride today and kept Rio in for her. I say nothing, even though it’s almost eleven now and I wouldn’t want Finn to be left standing in her stable for three hours waiting for me to arrive. The fields are small and the horses are all turned out separately. It’s standard practice around here and I should be used to it, but I can’t help remembering Finn galloping around the paddocks at Alec’s place with Trixie and Dolly, or standing nose to tail with Lucky under a tree on a hot day, swishing flies off each other’s faces.
Becky calls out to Rio as we approach, and he glances up, then puts his head back down and keeps munching. We walk into the paddock and she rattles the feed scoop. He pricks his ears and comes over quickly. That’s one advantage of having the horses in individual fields, I decide. If I’d done that at Alec’s, I would have been mobbed. I tell Becky this, and she gives me a strange look.
“All turned out together? Weren’t they worried that they’d get hurt?” Becky says in surprise as we watch Rio approach.
“Nah. Trixie caught a leg in a fence one day but that was just loose wire, it had nothing to do with the other ponies. They’re happier if they’re out with their mates.”
Becky laughs. “Mates? You really have turned into a New Zealander,” she teases.
I elbow her in the ribs as Rio shoves his head into the feed scoop and starts munching. Becky lifts his halter and goes to slip it over his nose, but he throws his head up and runs backwards, scattering pony nuts across the ground. Becky swears and keeps heading towards him, holding the halter out towards his head, as if that’s ever going to work. I scrape up some of the nuts and put them back into the scoop as Becky lunges towards the pony, grabbing at his mane. He turns and kicks out at her, then canters off into the far corner of the field. Becky throws the halter on the ground and stamps her foot like she’s in a cartoon.
“This is why they should’ve kept him in!” she’s insisting. “He’s so naughty to catch.”
“Want me to try?” I ask, but she shakes her head dismissively.
“It won’t work. When he’s in a mood like this he’s impossible to catch. Well, it was Kayla who turned him out, so I’m going to make her try and bring him in.”
She marches off to find Kayla as I put the head collar and rope behind my back and shake the scoop of nuts out towards Rio.
“Rio…” I call and he looks at me suspiciously. “Come on buddy, come have some pony nuts. Yum yum.”
I keep walking towards him, approaching his shoulder and keeping my eyes on the ground, all signs of submissive behaviour. You had to sneak up on Jess too, to catch her, and if she thought you were going to try and grab at her at all, she’d disappear over the hill and you’d be chasing her around the paddock for hours. Rio keeps watching me and I get within two metres of him before he starts to move off. I stop and shake the feed scoop again, and he stops and turns towards me. I keep my head down and speak softly to him.
“Come on buddy, come get some food. You know you want it.”
He does, and he approaches me and shoves his head forcefully into the scoop, almost pushing it out of my hand. I move around to his shoulder and he rolls an eye at me but doesn’t take his head out of the scoop. Quick as I can, I flick the leadrope over his neck, and he knows he’s caught. I slip the halter onto his head and give him a pat, then lead him towards the gate. Becky is on her way back, Kayla in tow, and they stop in surprise as I lead Rio over to the gate.
“Nice one,” Kayla says, opening the gate for me. I pass Rio’s leadrope to Becky and shrug.
“I’ve had lots of practice. Alec’s ponies were a pain to catch, and Finn could be pretty naughty too. And our paddocks were much bigger than these ones!”
“I hear you,” Kayla laughs. “Our hills are so steep they’re practically cliffs, and the ponies just loved to make you go all the way up to get them, then run down to the bottom just as you got there. It got us fit though!”
I help Becky groom her pony as another girl shows up and drags a hairy chestnut cob out of its stable. The pony looks annoyed as Kayla had just thrown it an armful of hay, but resigns itself to being groomed for about twenty minutes. I’m briefly introduced to the other girls. Dawn owns the cobby pony, whose name is, somewhat ridiculously, Twinkle. The grey pony is called Dorian Gray and his owner’s name is Emma. I stand by and watch as manes are brushed out, coats groomed until glossy, tail conditioner is liberally sprayed into tails, and hooves are oiled. Not a speck of mud remains on the ponies by the time the girls are ready to ride, a real contrast from Alec’s quick flick over approach. The ponies look great and it’s nice to see everyone so properly turned out.
I lean on the railing of the school
and watch them warm up, trying not to nitpick but unable to help noticing Becky’s tendency to pull Rio’s head down with her reins, instead of pushing him onto the bit with her legs. That wouldn’t have worked with Finn. If you tried to use that much rein with her, she’d have probably reared up or something.
The more I watch Becky trot around the school, the more I realise that she would never in a million years be able to ride Finn. Rio has a mind of his own and is taking advantage of her, cutting corners and rushing down the long sides. I like the look of Emma’s pony, but she’s got him in a gag bit and is holding the reins so tight that the pony’s eyes are rolling. Twinkle, which honestly couldn’t suit her less as a name, is plodding around the ring looking utterly bored, and Dawn has to keep kicking her to prevent her stopping completely and falling asleep.
After about twenty minutes of riding around and nearly crashing into each other in the tiny school, Becky rides over to me and halts Rio with a frown.
“Jay, he’s being really piggy today. I don’t know if you should ride him, it won’t be much fun. Dawn might let you ride Twink though.”
I laugh out loud, looking across the ring at the slow-moving cob, then back to see that my friend is completely serious.
“You’re kidding, right? I’ll be fine on Rio, honest. He’s way steadier than Finn was. She went more like Emma’s pony.”
Becky glances over her shoulder to see Emma trotting in small circles at the other end of the school, her pony’s head alternating between being tucked into his chest or waving around in the air, trying to evade her heavy hands. Becky leans forward in the saddle and whispers to me.
