by Kate Lattey
* * *
Twenty four hours later, I’m in exactly the same position on my bed, but my emotions are quite the opposite. My grandparents and I have just returned from our tour of St Agatha’s, which turned out to be a very religious school with compulsory Mass every morning, a ridiculously strict dress code (no jewellery allowed) and three hours of enforced studying every single night. The dorm rooms were tiny, the girls posh and unfriendly. By the time we’d finally made it down to the stables, I was already feeling stifled, and when I’d arrived on the yard, I realised that I wasn’t the only one feeling that way. There were rows of bored, depressed-looking horses standing in stables with their heads down, probably dreaming of grassy paddocks and the feel of the sun on their backs. There’d been a riding lesson going on that we’d stopped to watch, with a very strict woman barking orders at a group of nervous girls all hanging onto their ponies’ mouths. The instructor was obsessed with everyone keeping their heels down and shoulders back, making her students ride like tin soldiers, and the ponies were bumping grumpily around with their ears pinned back. A chestnut mare with a star had trotted past me, her tail swishing angrily, and I’d thought of Finn. Tears had sprung to my eyes at the thought of having my own pony at a place like this, being treated like a machine instead of an animal with feelings and thoughts of her own.
Gran, however, had loved the place, all of the discipline and conformity being right up her alley. She had been gushing about it all the way to the car as I’d slid into the back seat and choked back my tears. She’d turned in her seat and looked at me.
“Well? What did you think?”
I’d shaken my head. “It’s just that…I don’t feel like I’d belong there.”
Gran had huffed out an exasperated sigh. “So this whole day has been a waste of time then? Honestly Jilly, I think you’re being too fussy. You don’t seem to feel as though you ‘belong’ anywhere. I know things have been hard on you lately, they’ve been difficult for all of us. But you’re going to have to make a decision about your future, you can’t just go through life only doing the things that please you. Sometimes you need to take the hard road, to get where you want to be.”
“You have to roll the hard six,” I’d mumbled to myself.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” I’d turned and stared out of the window at the greying afternoon, the cluttered countryside disappearing as we got back onto the motorway and headed for home.
Home. I no longer know where that place is. I thought I would find it here, when I came back, but the home I’ve been missing is the place I’d lived with my mother. Without her, without Jigsaw, without Becky being the way she’d once been…it’s all different. Maybe Gran’s right, and I just have to suck it up and get on with it. The problem is, I don’t know where I want to be anymore.
I flip open my laptop, and check my emails. There’s another one from Claudia, and I pause before opening it. This will be it. She’ll be back from the show, and will be telling me how Finn went. If she was good, they’ll want to buy her and it will just be a matter of price. I decide to hold out for my eight thousand dollars. That’s only around three thousand pounds, after all. Not much really, a bargain for a pony like Finn. I click the message and wait for it to load.
Jay
I’m so sorry but we can’t buy Finn. Dad didn’t get the contract or something, it’s a bit crap, him and mum are fighting something chronic about it. He says there’s no money for another pony right now. So now mum wants to give her back to the Harrisons since we aren’t having her but I want to keep riding her for a bit. We have asked around a few people who might be interested and Abby Brooks is keeping an eye out as well. I’m sure you won’t have too much trouble selling her, she did great at the show today - second in the metre champ! She got 1st and 5th in the qualifiers but got pipped at the post in the championship jump-off. Lots of people were admiring her and she really loves to jump! I wish I could have her but that’s life I guess, sometimes it just sucks.
C.
I sit and stare at the screen for a while, reading the message over and over, letting it sink in. I should feel disappointed, so why do I feel relieved? I go back to Tegan’s email from the other day and I’m staring at the picture of me, Tegan and Alec when Grandpa knocks on the door and sticks his head into the room.
“How are you getting on?”
I turn to face him, still reeling from Claudia’s news. “Uh, fine.”
He walks slowly across the room. “I didn’t think much of that school either. Bit of a lemming factory.”
I smile genuinely at him, glad to have someone on my side. “It was scary strict. And those horses looked so miserable.”
“A bit cooped up,” he agrees.
We sit in silence for a moment, as I wonder whether Finn will mind going back to Alec’s after being at the Trents’ big dairy farm. Better that than being shut into a stable all day, I tell myself. Even if I could bring her over here, I wouldn’t do it. She’d hate the confinement. She loves the open spaces and getting to run around.
Grandpa is looking at the picture on the screen. “You look happy there,” he comments, and I turn to the computer.
“I was,” I tell him.
“Living with your father was a bit rough though, I’d imagine,” he says, and I feel instantly defensive of my dad.
“It was okay,” I reply honestly. “It just took a bit of getting used to. He pretty much let me do whatever I wanted, which I thought meant he didn’t care. But I think now he just didn’t really know how to be a father. And I didn’t exactly make it easy for him.”
I feel colour rising in my cheeks as I think back to some of the things I’ve said to my Dad over the last few months. I wonder how he’s getting on without me. Probably enjoying the peace and quiet.
“You didn’t enjoy it much though,” he states. “That’s the impression your Gran gave me.”
“It was okay for a while,” I tell him. “But then…you heard about what happened with my friend’s dad.”
“I did. It must have been very difficult for you to witness, and I’m sorry you had to go through that. After everything else that’s happened,” he adds, and I bite my lip, knowing he’s talking about Mum.
“I try not to think about that,” I confess. “I miss her so much.”
“So do I,” he replies, looking sad and old and frail. “She was our only child, and your Gran and I loved her dearly. It was a terrible thing.”
“It wasn’t fair,” I choke, feeling tears coming again. “Why did it have to be her who got cancer, when there are all those criminals and murderers out there being perfectly healthy?”
Grandpa shakes his head. “I don’t know. I wish I did. But one certainty in life is that nothing is certain. Not too comforting, I know.” I look back at the computer screen, blinking away tears as he sighs heavily. “One thing I do know is that there will always be things in life that you are powerless to change. The older you get, the more you come to realise how few choices you really have. The important thing is having the sense to make the right ones.”
I pull my knees up to my chin and wipe my tears with the back of my hand. “I wish I knew what I want. Every time I change anything, I end up feeling like I’ve left something better behind.”
I stare at Finn’s pricked ears and happy expression, the red and white sash standing out against her glossy coat, filled with regrets.
“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Grandpa says. I turn to him in surprise, but he’s being sincere. “Your Gran and I are glad to have you if this is where you really want to be, but if you want to go back to New Zealand, we won’t stop you. The choice is yours.”
I meet his eyes, as blue as my own. Another crossroad. I recall the poem about the two roads diverging in the wood. I took the one less travelled by…and that has made all the difference. I feel as though I’m standing at that intersection, looking at the two paths ahead of me. One is clear and well-worn, having been tr
avelled by many people before. I know what lies down that road. I can see my future if I stay here, mapped out in front of me as clear as day. Boarding school. University. A well-paid 9-to-5 job. Ponies would fade into the background of my life, and I would only get to ride on rare occasions or trekking holidays. I imagine having a pony-mad daughter of my own one day, telling her stories about the glory days when I had my own pony and was free to ride whenever and wherever I liked. A fleeting moment, forever suspended in time. Nothing but a memory.
I don’t want to be someone who used to ride.
The other path is still there. It holds no promises of safety, security, or a predictable future. But maybe that’s not such a bad thing. I need to have the courage to live my life the way I want it to be, even when things get rough. Alec was right after all. There’s nothing to be gained by running away.
Grandpa heaves himself to his feet, interrupting my reverie. “I’m an old man, Jilly, and I won’t pretend to be a wise one. But one piece of advice I can give you is to follow your heart. Even when it leads you in unexpected directions.”
I get to my feet and wrap my arms around his bony shoulders. “I think you’re very wise,” I whisper in his ear, and he chuckles, hugging me back with surprisingly strong arms.
The phone picks up on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Dad, it’s Jay.”
“Hi. What’s up?”
“Well I wanted to ask you something.” My hand is sweating, and I’m nervous. What if he says no?
“Fire away.”
“I was wondering…that is…” I take a breath, then spit it out quickly. “I want to come back. I mean, if you’ll have me.” I take a breath. “Can I come back?” My heart is thumping as I wait for his response.
He doesn’t keep me in much suspense. “Of course you can! What made you change your mind?” he adds thickly, speaking past a lump in his throat, and I wonder how I could have ever thought that he didn’t care about me.
I tell him the truth. “This isn’t my home anymore.”
* * *
This time when I fly into New Zealand, I’m delighted to see the wild and expansive landscape appear below me. This time when Dad picks me up from the airport, I run straight into his arms and hug him tight. When we break apart, I’m shocked to see him rubbing at his eyes.
“Dad…are you crying?”
He laughs and puts an arm around my shoulder. “Of course not. Don’t be stupid.”
This time there is no silent treatment. Instead I find myself chattering non-stop, telling him everything about my time in England. He’s listening avidly, asking questions and making sympathetic noises at the right times. We walk out to the ute and I’m even happy to see Chewbacca in the back.
“Hi dog,” and he licks my face happily as I scratch his ears.
Dad grins at us. “He missed you.”
“I missed him too,” I’m surprised to admit. I look around as we pull out and start the drive home. “I missed a lot of things.” I look at my Dad and smile. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too, kiddo.”
It’s grey and drizzling in the Bay today, but I’ve been eagerly absorbing the view from the moment we came around the point. The beach is unchanged, stretching long and empty, waves breaking rhythmically on the shore. I press my face against the window as we drive past the Harrisons’ dilapidated farm. It looks just the same as it did when I first arrived, but I no longer view it with contempt. Instead, it’s part of the familiar landscape and the very sight of the broken-down tractors and sagging fences warms my heart. There’s nobody around, but I can see the misty outlines of ponies in the house paddock. I recognise Dolly grazing by the gate, and Lucky sheltering under the pine tree, standing nose to tail with a chestnut pony...
I yell at Dad to stop, and before the ute has even come to a complete standstill, I’ve flung myself out and am running across the wet grass. The ponies stare at me as I approach them, and I slow to a walk as my eyes confirm what my heart had told me.
“Finn…”
She nickers to me when she hears my voice. Tears spring to my eyes as we walk towards one another, her graceful neck outstretched, ears pricked and wide nostrils fluttering. I fling my arms around her neck and hug her tight, breathing in the warmth of her coat, the smell of wet horse, basking in the knowledge that she is mine, all mine, forever and ever.
“I’m never, ever selling you,” I tell her. “And I’ll never leave you again. I promise.”
She pulls away from my embrace, then nudges my shoulder. I rub her ears and she drops her head down, eyelids drooping, loving the attention. I go over her, scratching all those pesky places that only human fingers can get to, and she makes happy faces at me. There’s no sign of Alec from the house, and Dad’s still waiting in the ute, so I clap Finn’s strong neck and tell her I’ll be back soon, then traipse back through the rain.
“She looked happy to see you,” Dad comments as we drive on up the road.
“Not as happy as I was to see her,” I reply with a smile.
We pull up to the house and it is no longer an ugly little cabin but my home. Dad drops the tailgate and I drag my suitcase off the flatbed, hauling it up onto the porch. The front door opens as I go up the front steps and to my surprise, Tegan steps out, with Alec right behind her. I break into a huge smile and throw my arms around my friend. She hugs me back fiercely, until I have to pry myself away before I get suffocated.
“I knew it,” she declares. “I knew you’d come back. You missed me too much, didn’t you? You can admit it.”
I laugh at her, then turn to Alec. “I did, I missed you both.”
Alec grins and opens his arms. I hug him tight and Tegan flings her arms around the pair of us.
“Group hug! Come on Dave,” she badgers my dad, and I’m about to tell her that he’ll never do it when I feel his arm wrap around my shoulder.
I smile to myself as the four of us stand together for a moment on the sagging porch. I’m damp and cold and indescribably happy. Chewbacca ruins the moment by jumping up against Alec’s back, demanding to be a part of the hug, and we break apart. Alec goes down on his knees to tussle with the dog, making a fuss over him, and Tegan and I drag my bags into the house. It’s warm inside, and the fire is crackling in the hearth.
“It’s good to be back,” I observe as I set my bag down by the kitchen table, which is covered in dirty mugs and equine magazines. Clearly they’ve been waiting here for a while.
“Fancy a cuppa, love?” Tegan asks in a ridiculous attempt at an English accent, wasting no time in mocking me once again.
It’s like I never left. I pick up a dirty teaspoon from the kitchen table and throw it at her. She ducks and it lands with a loud clatter, reverberating against the dishes piled up in the sink. I shake my head at Dad as he walks into the house with Alec, the dog still fawning at my friend’s feet.
“Have you not done the dishes since I left?”
Dad shrugs apologetically and I roll my eyes at him, but I can’t help smiling.
“Some things never change,” I tease him.
We sit down at the table and Tegan dumps mugs of hot tea in front of us all. I sip at mine as she fills me in on everything that has happened since I left, Alec adding occasional details to the story.
“Oh, and guess what?” Tegan pauses suspensefully until I oblige her desire for dramatics and ask.
“What?”
“Finn’s back.”
I feel a little bad for ruining the revelation. “I know, I saw her. If you wanted to surprise me, you shouldn’t have put her in the house paddock.”
Tegan pouts but Alec gives a short nod, a glimmer of a smile on his face. “Fair enough.”
“I thought the Trents weren’t dropping her off until the weekend,” I add casually. “How come they came early?”
“They didn’t,” Alec admits. “But when Dave told us you’d come to your senses, we went and picked her up for you, so she’d be here when you got back. H
appy homecoming.”
I smile widely across the table at him, and he winks at me.
“What happened to your eyebrows?” Tegan quizzes me suddenly, and I reply immediately.
“Nothing. What happened to your face?”
She sticks her tongue out at me as the others laugh.
“So why did you come back?” she asks, in her usual blunt way.
All eyes are on me. “Nothing was how I remembered it. Everything had changed, and…I guess I realised that I was homesick for something that no longer exists.”
The next day, the three of us canter up the logging road. I’m bubbling with happiness at being back on my own pony again, feeling comfortable and at ease on her back. Finn and Lucky canter side-by-side up the track and Tegan is just behind us, Nugget fighting hard to get to the front. The trail narrows and Finn surges ahead, taking the lead, swallowing the ground in huge strides. I lean forward, urging her on still faster, and she rises to the challenge, streaking ahead of the others. We reach the crest of the hill first, and I pull her up to wait for my friends.
I sit easily in the saddle and look out over Clearwater Bay, watching the waves break on the peaceful shore. Alec and Tegan are trotting up behind me, laughing at a shared joke. Finn tosses her head and the fading autumn light glints off her coat. I reach forward and pat her neck, laughing aloud for the sheer joy of being myself, of being here, with my friends, in this place. Content in the knowledge that right now, in this moment, everything is as it should be.
I am home.
Jay’s story continues in 2015 with:
Clearwater Bay #2 - Against the Clock
More books by this author on Amazon:
Dare to Dream
Saying goodbye to the horses they love has become a way of life for Marley and her sisters, who train and sell show jumpers to make their living. Marley has grand ambitions to jump in Pony of the Year, but every good pony she’s ever had has been sold out from under her to pay the bills.
