MClarke - Green Wellies and Wax Jackets

by Green Wellies

  Ursula had her doubts about that, but wouldn’t dream of hurting her daughter by voicing them. It was Minstrel she was pinning her hopes on – Minstrel and Vanessa. Together, they could pull this off. She was sure of it. Failure was not, and could not, be an option.

  Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny, with only the faintest wisps of an overnight mist left hanging in the air.

  Preparations at Hollyfield stables had started early. The horses had been fed and groomed, before being bandaged and wrapped for travelling. The horsebox could take up to eight horses, but on this occasion, only four were using it to go to the County Show. Minstrel and Jasper, for the show jumping, Lady Jane for the dressage, and the fourth horse, Holly, for the working hunter class.

  Ella had been up since six, plaiting manes, and wrapping bandages around tails, and sorting out the tack and grooming boxes for each horse. The excitement was buzzing around the yard. Several of the livery owners who had their own transport were going, and a variety of trailers, and small boxes were appearing from all corners of the yard. Not all of the classes were ridden classes. There was everything from ‘in hand’ to ‘mountain and moorland.’ And one girl was taking her horse purely for the sake of getting him used to large crowds, prior to entering him in future shows.

  Ella couldn’t help wishing she was going with them. Loading Jasper onto the box, she felt a sudden pang of envy. She knew she was a far better rider than Vanessa or Caroline. It would have been nice to take part in the show, if only to prove it to them. Still, it was her own fault she couldn’t go. She was the one who had readily agreed to change shifts. She couldn’t blame anyone else for that mistake.

  ‘Be good,’ she murmured, fastening a hay net up for the horse, and patting him gently on the neck. Jasper snorted, and tugged at the lead rope. He didn’t like travelling. It would take him a while to settle down at the other end. (Which was another reason why she wished she were going. Caroline was not renowned for her patience.) ‘Right. You can load Minstrel now,’ she said, sliding the partition shut, and standing to one side.

  The grey Arab was a seasoned traveller, and showed no hesitation in walking up the rubber-matted ramp and into the box. Ella made sure he was secure, before folding the partition shut.

  Jasper was starting to paw restlessly at the straw covered floor. A squeal from Minstrel showed he was not impressed.

  ‘Next,’ Ella called.

  Lady Jane’s coat gleamed like black silk as she strutted proudly up the ramp, her neck and head held high. She looked stunning, even with her padded travelling boots and bandaged tail. This horse was worth a small fortune, she thought, taking the lead rope from the young stable girl, and fastening it to the piece of baling twine that hung from a ring on the box wall. She hoped Laura appreciated the honour she was being given. No one, not even Stella Watkins, had been allowed to ride Lady Jane.

  ‘Right,’ she said, closing the next partition and sliding the bolt across. ‘We’re ready for Holly now.’

  With the last horse securely loaded, it was time to carry on the tack and grooming equipment, plus several containers of water and hay nets full of hay.

  Vanessa and Caroline took no part in the actual loading of either horses or equipment. They were far too busy getting themselves organised. They had both been up since dawn, arguing over whose turn it was to use the bathroom, the hairdrier, and even the toilet, at one point. Tempers were short, and nerves were frayed.

  ‘I feel sick, Mother,’ Caroline complained, chewing half-heartedly on a dry piece of toast.

  ‘No you don’t. It’s the excitement, that’s all.’

  ‘I do. I feel sick.’

  ‘Good,’ Vanessa said, liberally coating her toast in butter and marmalade. ‘You won’t want to ride, then, will you?’

  ‘But I do want to ride.’ Caroline sounded quite pitiful.

  ‘And so you shall, my darling,’ Ursula murmured, pressing a mug of hot sweet tea into her hands. ‘You and Jasper make a lovely team.’

  Vanessa opened her mouth to say something, but caught the warning glare in her mother’s eye. She scowled, and then crunched into her slice of dripping toast. Wilson, who was slavering under the kitchen table, nudged her knee. She tossed him a crust, which he failed to catch, and it landed sticky side down on the tiled floor. Ursula stepped on it a moment later. ‘I’m sure you’ll be fine, darling,’ she said, glancing down, and wondering why the floor suddenly felt tacky. ‘You mustn’t be nervous.’

  ‘I’m not nervous,’ Vanessa announced, reaching over to pluck another slice of toast out of the rack.

  Caroline looked as if she were about to cry. ‘That’s because you’ve got Minstrel,’ she said.

  ‘So?’

  ‘Well, he’s heaps better than Jasper. You know he is.’

  ‘Is he?’ Vanessa tried to look surprised.

  Caroline muttered something unintelligible under her breath.

  ‘Girls, girls,’ Ursula soothed. ‘There’s no point in arguing. It doesn’t matter who wins, as long as one of you does. And this way, we’ve got two chances.’ She smiled fondly at the pair of them. ‘Oh, my dears, I am so proud of you – so very proud.’ A moist tear was starting to form in the corner of her eye. ‘This is going to be so worthwhile. I know it is.’

  ‘There goes Lady Muck and her two poisonous daughters,’ Thomas said, watching thoughtfully as the dark blue Range Rover swept down the gravel drive after the huge horse-box, and scattered the neatly clipped verges with dozens of small stones. He gave a twirling wave as the vehicle sped past. ‘Well,’ he muttered, glancing over at Ella, who was sweeping the yard free of hay and dirt. ‘Acts like bleeding Royalty, doesn’t she?’

  Ella managed a weak smile.

  ‘So, lass,’ he said, ambling over to her. ‘What are your plans for today?’

  ‘Not a lot,’ she said, pausing for a moment to lean on the handle of her broom. ‘I’ve got the children’s class at ten, but there are only four names on the list, and no one’s booked in for this afternoon. I reckon most people are going to the Show.’

  ‘And that includes your teenage helpers, right?’

  ‘Right,’ she nodded. ‘Only Kelly and Tamsin turned up this morning. The others are all hoping to see Simon De Silva, or, failing that, Lewis Trevelyan again.’

  ‘Ah, the fickleness of youth.’ Thomas picked up the muck scoop, and removed a heap of droppings from outside one of the boxes. ‘It’s going to be a pretty quiet day, then.’

  ‘Busy, though,’ she said. ‘Between us, we’ve got to muck out all the stables, and prepare the feeds for tonight.’

  ‘Best get started, then,’ he said. ‘Tell you what – I’ll muck out, and you bring in the ponies for this morning’s lesson. Kelly and Tamsin can help you tack up.’

  The girls were bursting with enthusiasm. Their devotion to the horses, and everything connected to them, meant that Saturdays were the highlight of the week for them. Nothing was too much trouble. They lugged heavy water buckets from stable to stable, polished tack, groomed and brushed and plaited the ponies’ manes, and even put up with the odd nip or kick, just to be near the creatures they so adored.

  Both volunteered to lead in the children’s pony class, so that those youngsters wishing to trot could do so safely.

  Sasha Wilkes was in her element. ‘Look, Mummy, look!’ she yelled, as she bounced up and down in the saddle like a wobbling sack of jellybeans, whilst Tamsin clung on to the side of her padded jacket to hold her securely in place.

  ‘And walk,’ Ella said, lowering her voice. The four ponies plodding round the arena slowed to a gentle amble.

  ‘Again! Again!’ Sasha shrieked, her legs flapping wildly against the little Dartmoor pony’s sides. Biscuit got the message, and sprang forwards, and it was purely by luck that Tamsin managed to keep a hold of her charge, thus preventing her from tumbling backwards over the pony’s hindquarters.

  ‘Well sat, Sasha,’ Ella said. The little girl beamed. ‘Don’t kick so hard
, next time, though,’ she added, kindly. ‘I don’t think Biscuit likes it.’

  The rest of the lesson passed without incident, and Ella was pleased when all four children booked lessons for the following week. Ursula would have no cause for complaint on her account, she thought.

  By twelve o’clock, the stables had all been cleaned out, and fresh straw, hay and water put down for the evening, when most of the horses came in. A few hardy types lived out – native breeds, mostly, who could cope better when the weather was inclement. The thoroughbreds and finer ponies tended to be better off if stabled overnight.

  It was a never-ending round of putting out, mucking out, and then bringing in again. Such were the joys of horse ownership. No wonder those who could afford it paid for private livery, Ella thought, as she tipped yet another laden wheelbarrow on to the muckheap. Her clothes were filthy and her boots were starting to smell. She longed for a soak in a hot bath, but she couldn’t leave the yard unmanned. Thomas had left for the village a good half hour ago, saying he needed to pick something up. Maybe she had time to take a quick shower. As Kelly had so politely pointed out - she really did hum a bit. She glanced at her watch. Thomas was due back at any moment, and she was sure the girls were capable of taking any phone messages in his absence.

  ‘Give me ten minutes,’ she told them, ‘and then you can go and get some lunch.’

  She stood under the warm shower and let the force of the water cascade over her hair. It was pure bliss. She lathered it up with shampoo, and rinsed it thoroughly, before wrapping it in a towel to dry. Barefoot, she padded through into the bedroom, and sorted out some clean jodhpurs, and a white blouse. Dressed and refreshed, she hurried downstairs, dragging a comb through her damp hair. She didn’t have time to dry it properly, so she pinned it up, and reasoned that the warm sun would do the job for her. Stuffing her feet into her riding boots, and snatching up her jacket, she opened the door to head back to the yard, and nearly trampled over Thomas, who was standing on the doorstep, one hand raised as if about to knock on it.

  ‘That was good timing,’ he said.

  ‘Christ, you gave me a fright.’ She stopped short, and caught her breath. Thomas was grinning at her. Why was he grinning at her? She looked suspiciously over his shoulder to where a small sporty hatch back was parked with its engine running. It looked like Kate’s car. Her eyes narrowed slightly. It was Kate’s car.

  ‘Thomas,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that…?’

  ‘Aye, it is, lass.’ He gave her a wink. ‘And it drives like a dream.’

  ‘But why?’ she spluttered dazedly. ‘I mean, what are you doing with it?’

  ‘I’ll explain that on the road, me darling. Come on,’ he said, catching hold of her arm. ‘We haven’t got much time.’

  ‘What do you mean, we haven’t got much time?’

  ‘To get to the Show, of course,’ he said, holding open the car door for her.

  ‘Thomas, I can’t leave the stables.’

  ‘Sure you can,’ he said. ‘It’s all arranged. Now get in, or do I have to throw you in myself.’

  Bewildered, she glanced back at the yard. Tamsin and Kelly were standing laughing and waving at her. ‘Good luck,’ they yelled. ‘Get us an autograph.’

  ‘They know about this?’ she said, her voice shaking.

  Thomas nodded and grinned, as he revved the engine.

  ‘Who else knows?’ she croaked, sliding into her seat and fastening the seatbelt.

  ‘Only Kate and Heather,’ he said.

  She glanced across at him. ‘Heather Hutchins knows?’

  ‘Well, you need a horse to ride, lass,’ he said simply, ‘and there’s none better than hers, that’s for sure.’

  Ella was stunned. ‘You’re being serious, aren’t you? I’m going to ride Majesty.’

  ‘That you are me darling.’ He winked at her as the car accelerated onto the main road. ‘That you are.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Keynes and Bain hospitality marquee was swarming with people. The film crew, actors and actresses mingled with technicians and extras, as Miles Davison gave a run down of how he foresaw the scheduling for the day ahead.

  ‘Simon, I want you on next, running from the first aid post. That’s all we need at the moment. And Molly, you’ll be standing by the window. Jason?’ He scanned the list of names on his clipboard. ‘Where’s Jason?’

  ‘Gone for a leak,’ came a shouted reply.

  ‘Okay, well forget that for now. Lewis?’

  ‘Yep?’

  ‘I want you and your team in the grand ring for the jumping competition. You can be extras, members of the crowd, whatever you like.’

  ‘Me?’ Lucy yelped, running a hand through her perfectly styled hair. ‘God, I wish I’d known. I must look a sight.’

  Lewis gave her a withering glare. His patience was wearing rather thin. Three hours, he had been stuck in this glorified tent, when he had really wanted to be outside and watching the proceedings.

  Matthew had managed to get hold of a list of entrants for the show jumping competition, and a quick scan of the names had not revealed an Ella Johnson on it. Vanessa and Caroline was there, but not Ella.

  ‘Lewis Trevelyan – hi. I’m Christopher Simmons.’ (The tall man with the bald head and the seriously unfashionable grey suit flashed an identity badge at him.) ‘I’m from the local press. Can I have a few words?’

  ‘Sure.’ Lewis motioned him over to a table, and pulled up a chair.

  ‘I gather Blackwater Films are running this competition,’ the man said, switching on a small, hand held tape recorder and placing it on the table in front of them.

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ Lewis said.

  ‘Can you tell me why?’

  Lewis shrugged. ‘We’re looking for talented riders. What better place to find them, than at the County Show?’

  ‘Indeed.’ The reporter nodded. ‘But aren’t you going to a lot of trouble for what, admittedly, is only a very minor scene in the film?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘In fact, I think I’m right in saying that this scene is only going to be about three minutes long.’

  ‘Give or take a few seconds,’ Lewis confirmed.

  ‘And it’s not a big budget movie, is it? I mean, it’s not on the scale of Hollywood films.’

  ‘Neither was “The Full Monty”, Mr Simmons,’ Lewis said, drumming his fingers on the table as he spoke. ‘Quality doesn’t necessarily come with a high price tag. We’re after realism here - real emotions, real nerves, real stamina and endurance. And that’s why we’re using real people.’

  ‘So it’s not just a publicity exercise?’

  ‘No,’ he said, and then added quickly, ‘but naturally any publicity we get will be an added bonus.’

  ‘Naturally.’ The reporter grinned. A double page spread in the daily paper would not do the production team any harm at all, particularly if the footage included shots of local people, which it was bound to, given the circumstances. ‘Well, thanks for your time, Mr Trevelyan,’ he said, switching off his tape. ‘I won’t keep you. I can see how busy you are. Perhaps if I could have a word with Mr De Silva?’

  ‘He’s on set,’ Lewis said. ‘They’re shooting one of the scenes outside the main arena, but you might be able to catch him later.’

  ‘I see. Well, thanks again.’ He stood up and shook his hand.

  ‘Local paper, you say?’ Lewis said, as a sudden thought occurred to him.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Have you been with them long?’

  ‘Longer than I care to mention,’ the journalist laughed.

  ‘Then you might be the person I need to speak to,’ he said. ‘Do you remember the show-jumper, Robert Johnson?’

  ‘Indeed I do.’ Mr Simmons beamed. ‘Yes, I was fortunate enough to interview him on several occasions. He used to own a stable and stud not far from here - Hollyfield Stables, outside of Ecclesfield. The family runs it now. You do know he died?’ he added, gi
ving him a sudden sharp look.

  ‘Yes, I heard about the car crash. Five years ago, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Hmm. Must be. Tragic,’ he added, shaking his head. ‘That poor girl. To lose her mother, and then her father, and her barely fifteen at the time.’

  ‘Tragic,’ Lewis echoed.

  ‘Of course, she was a good little rider as well. Gabriella Johnson,’ he sighed. ‘Pretty young thing. She was a regular winner in the Junior Ponies UK Championship events.’

  ‘Does she still compete?’

  ‘You know, I’m not sure if she does.’ Christopher Simmons pocketed his tape recorder as he spoke. ‘I think she mainly teaches now. She could well be here, you know. You’ll have to ask her that for yourself.’