MClarke - Green Wellies and Wax Jackets

by Green Wellies

  ‘I will,’ he said. ‘Thanks.’

  Gabriella. Of course – Gabriella – Ella!

  ‘Matthew! Let me see that list of riders again.’

  Got it! He jabbed his finger at the sheet and gave a low whistle. ‘She’s here, Matt. See here – they’ve crossed out Heather Hutchins, and put in Gabriella Johnson. That’s her.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Robert Johnson’s daughter, you idiot,’ he said, grinning.

  Lucy gave a loud and imperious sniff as she examined her immaculately polished fingernails. ‘Of course, she might not be who you think she is.’

  ‘I’ll lay odds on it that she is,’ Lewis muttered.

  ‘Fifty quid and you’re on,’ Matthew said cheerfully.

  ‘Done.’

  Lucy gave a cluck of disapproval. ‘Well, I’m off,’ she said. ‘If I’m going to be an extra, I need to get to make-up.’

  Lewis glanced at his watch. ‘And I need to go check out the competitors. Where did you say they were again?’

  ‘Mother! Mother! Oh my God! I’ve just seen him,’ Vanessa shrieked, as she bounded across the paddock to the horsebox. The horses were standing tethered to separate rings on the side of the lorry, whilst their travelling boots and bandages were removed. Jasper shied and Lady Jane snorted and tossed her head as Vanessa hurtled past.

  ‘Who, darling?’ Ursula said, ducking underneath an overhanging hay net. Wisps of hay clung to her hair and padded fleece jacket. ‘No, don’t hang it up there,’ she said, to one of the over-keen youngsters, who were helping them unload. ‘Use a bit of baling twine.’

  ‘Simon De Silva,’ Vanessa panted, clutching at her side. ‘They’re filming him now.’

  ‘Where?’ Caroline said.

  ‘Over there.’ Vanessa waggled her hand in the direction of one of the marquees. ‘I saw loads of cameras and sound equipment and stuff.’ And truckloads of security guards too, though she failed to mention that fact. Indeed, her one fleeting glimpse of Simon De Silva had been as he sprinted across the grass, and even then, she’d only seen the top of his head.

  ‘He was gorgeous!’ she enthused breathlessly. ‘And he smiled at me.’

  ‘Liar!’ Caroline snapped.

  ‘You weren’t there.’

  ‘So?’ Caroline was struggling to fasten the catch of her riding hat under her chin. The blonde wig she was wearing, courtesy of one of the charity shops in town, was making things difficult, to say the least. ‘I bet he didn’t even see you,’ she sneered.

  ‘He did so…’

  ‘Hadn’t you better be getting Minstrel tacked up?’ Ursula said, somewhat diplomatically. ‘They’ll be starting the warm up soon.’

  Vanessa glowered at her sister. ‘Did so,’ she muttered.

  Caroline gave her a dismissive shrug. ‘Where are my new gloves, Mother?’

  ‘In the trunk,’ Ursula said. ‘Laura?’ She turned her attention to their star dressage rider, who was so much more agreeable than her own daughters when it came to competitions. ‘Laura – have you got a necktie pin? Stella says you must always wear one. Yes? Because I’ve got a gold one if you need it. You don’t? Oh good. Good. Now then, where’s the show sheen?’

  As the horses were being brushed and groomed in readiness for the competition, Vanessa and Caroline were making a point of eyeing up their rivals in the show jumping event.

  Marsha Wilmot’s daughter Amelia had entered, riding White Star.

  ‘She’s never eighteen,’ Caroline said loudly, as the chestnut filly trotted past them with her young rider on board. ‘She can’t be more than sixteen.’

  ‘Fifteen,’ Ursula said, peering over the top of her gold-rimmed glasses.

  ‘And there’s Sally Mason. She must be at least thirty.’

  ‘They’ll have to be disqualified,’ Vanessa said. ‘They will be, Mother, won’t they?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Ursula said. Or at least, they would be once she’d passed on the relevant details to the judging panel. ‘Don’t worry, girls. Something tells me you’re going to do rather well here today.’ (Please God) ‘Now then,’ she added, glancing at her watch. ‘It must be nearly time for you to walk the course.’

  The jumps had to be taken in a set sequence, and all riders were required to familiarise themselves with the layout, before tackling it for real. This was the only opportunity they would have to measure the distance between each set of jumps, the angles and degree of turns, and the areas where they could make up the most time. If it came to a jump off, this sort of knowledge would be of paramount importance.

  Ursula watched anxiously as Vanessa and Caroline strolled round the course. They didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the matter in hand. Vanessa seemed more intent on staring over at the camera crew than the jumps, and Caroline was pouting and putting on a provocative wiggle as she walked. In her skin-tight jodhpurs and blonde wig, it was not an endearing sight.

  ‘God give me strength,’ Lewis groaned, as he stood at the side of the arena and studied the riders walking the course. ‘Look at those two.’

  ‘Don’t tell me – let me guess,’ Matthew said. ‘Ursula Johnson’s daughters?’

  ‘The same.’ He gave a half-hearted raise of his hand in response to Vanessa’s frantic wave.

  ‘And no sign of the other girl?’

  Lewis screwed his eyes up and peered into the distance. ‘Not so far,’ he said.

  ‘There are a few fit young ladies out there,’ James observed, as he came to stand behind them. He gave a low wolf whistle. ‘What is it about girls in jodhpurs, carrying whips, eh?’

  ‘Pervert,’ Lucy muttered. She tapped Lewis on the shoulder. ‘I’ve got a message from Miles. Apparently the weather’s looking bad for tomorrow, so he’d like to complete the outdoor shots today.’

  ‘You’re kidding,’ Lewis choked. ‘We haven’t got him a rider yet. And by the looks of things, this competition could go on all afternoon.’

  ‘Well you’ve got plenty to choose from,’ she said, waving a well-manicured hand at the arena. ‘Any one of them would do. All Miles needs is someone to hold the horse for Simon.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Lewis said. He glanced back at her, agitated. ‘I know.’

  Lucy pouted. ‘Where is Simon, anyway?’

  ‘Still shooting, I think. He is, isn’t he, James?’

  ‘What? Oh, Simon – yeah, think so.’ He returned his gaze to the bevy of lovelies wandering the course in front of him. ‘This is going to be difficult, Lewis. Very difficult.’

  It would be, if the right girl didn’t show up. Lewis glanced anxiously at his watch, and then back into the Grand Ring, where the compère was making an announcement.

  ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, we welcome you to the Grand Ring, where we shall shortly be starting the Simon De Silva show jumping stakes. For those of you who don’t know – and I suspect most of you do…’ (A titter went round the crowd), ‘filming is taking place during the competition. I have been asked by the organisers to make several requests…’

  ‘Don’t stare at the cameras,’ Matthew chuckled, glancing at Lewis. ‘They all will, you know. It’s a risky business shooting at a live event.’

  ‘Cynic,’ he muttered.

  ‘…And please remember to switch off all mobile phones during the competition. We also request that you do not use flash photography, though the taking of photographs is, of course permitted.’

  ‘Unless, of course, its photos of the film crew.’ James nudged him gently and pointed at Lucy, who was applying her lipstick with the utmost of care. ‘Guess there was no room in the make-up trailer,’ he whispered.

  Lucy glared at him as she clicked shut her mirrored compact, and slipped it into her handbag. ‘I’m going to take my place in the audience,’ she said primly. ‘Anyone coming?’

  ‘Why not?’ Matthew said agreeably. ‘Lewis?’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I need to speak to Miles.’

  ‘He’s not in a good mood,’ Lucy said.


  He wasn’t the only one. Tempers on set were becoming distinctly frayed.

  Problems with the sound recording meant that Simon de Silva had been required to do the scene outside the first aid post several times.

  He was, he said, getting rather fed up of sprinting over the same piece of grass.

  ‘It’s not my fault the bloody announcer keeps chipping in with some new instruction for the crowd,’ snapped the boom operator. ‘This thing pretty sensitive you know. It picks up everything.’

  ‘Yes, well I’m not Linford Christie,’ Simon said. ‘There’s only so many takes I can do, before I start to look knackered.’

  ‘Okay, okay, you can have a break,’ Miles said. ‘Get Jason and we’ll shoot his scene. Lewis,’ he said, spotting him hovering in the background. He waved him forwards. ‘Rain’s forecast for tomorrow.’

  ‘So Lucy told me,’ he said. ‘Is that going to cause problems?’

  Miles shrugged. ‘I’d like to get finished today, if at all possible. How long will it take to find me a girl, or shall I just use one of the extras?’

  ‘The competition’s starting now,’ he said. ‘We can’t go back on our word, Miles. It would look bad for the company.’

  The director shook his head. ‘Not my problem, Lewis. You know what they say about time being money. I take it you’ve found us a suitable horse?’

  ‘Yes.’ Lewis lied through his teeth. A suitable horse – what was that? Simon had been taking lessons, but he was still only a novice rider. The horses he had seen so far looked pretty spirited and highly-strung for his liking. What they needed was a magnificent looking beast with a laid back temperament.

  ‘Simon?’ he called, waving him over.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Be honest with me,’ he said. ‘Do you think you can manage the riding scene? I mean, honestly?’

  ‘No problem,’ he said, grinning. ‘Whether I survive it is another matter entirely.’

  ‘I’m not joking,’ Lewis muttered.

  ‘Neither am I.’

  ‘Christ.’ He glanced around the showground. Where could he find a placid animal at this late stage in the day? ‘Come with me,’ he said, catching hold of his sleeve. ‘And bring some of your minders.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘To find you a bloody horse,’ he said. ‘Preferably one that’s not likely to kill you.’

  In the warm up ring several of the competitors were testing their paces over the practice jumps. Caroline was having problems with Jasper, not least because he was nervous. The crowds, tannoys and unaccustomed noises were unsettling him. He was used to shows, but not one on this scale. The aerial display by a paragliding club did not help either. Brightly coloured silk canopies floating down from all parts of the sky was enough to unsettle the calmest of horses, and Jasper was not a calm horse.

  A child’s scarlet helium filled balloon sailed over the practice ring. A moment later came the hysterical wailing of the balloon’s small owner. Jasper shied into another horse, which promptly lashed out with its hind legs, and caught Caroline’s left thigh a hefty blow.

  Ursula winced as she watched. ‘Are you all right, darling?’ she called.

  Her daughter’s face had gone rather pale. ‘Can you still ride?’

  Caroline managed a weak nod.

  ‘Can’t you keep that horse under control?’ shouted a loutish youth in a dirty denim jacket and a pair of baggy combat trousers. ‘See her – she’s useless,’ he added, sniggering at his mates.

  ‘Why don’t you shut up,’ Ursula said, rounding on the unfortunate heckler with a furious glare. ‘Or perhaps you think you could do better? Ever ridden a horse, sonny?’ She peered down at him like a predatory hawk.

  ‘Uh, no,’ the youth said, smirking at his friends.

  ‘Want to give it a try?’

  ‘Uh…’

  Ursula’s hand descended on his shoulder in a grip of pure steel. ‘Caroline. Bring Jasper over here. I’ve got a young man here who thinks he can do better than you. Now then,’ she said, smiling thinly. ‘Let’s see how you do on him.’

  ‘Gerroff!’ the youth said, twisting away from her. Jasper was foaming at the mouth and showing the whites of his eye. ‘I’m not getting on that.’

  ‘Thought not.’ Ursula said, straightening up with a satisfied smile.

  ‘Bloody animal’s mad,’ he muttered.

  ‘Hmm, and do the words yellow, and chicken, spring to mind?’

  The guffaw from the crowd of teenage boys drowned out the youth’s sullen response.

  Smugly satisfied, Ursula turned her attention back to her daughters. Surprisingly, Vanessa seemed to be managing rather well. Minstrel had the most delightful of paces, and when she popped him over a couple of jumps, he made it look so effortless and easy.

  ‘Oh well done, darling,’ she said.

  Vanessa beamed. For the first time ever, she felt she had a chance of winning. The horse was a natural, with a fearless, bold jump and a lightning turn of speed. He far outclassed any of the other horses. She trotted him serenely around the collecting ring, her head held high. This was her turn to shine – her turn to show everyone what she was made of.

  ‘Nice horse,’ Simon said, as they stopped to watch the proceedings from a safe vantage point outside the arena.

  ‘Shame about the rider,’ Lewis muttered. ‘Come on – and keep those dark glasses on,’ he added crisply. ‘I don’t want anyone recognising you.’

  In the swarming throng of people, it was easy to remain anonymous. The crowds were jostling to secure their seats around the Grand Ring. No one paid much attention to the group of men making their way to the area reserved for horseboxes and trailers. Everyone else appeared to be going in the opposite direction.

  ‘She’s got to be here,’ Lewis said, scanning the crowds.

  ‘Who?’ Simon said, munching on a tasty snack from the hog roast stall. ‘This is really good,’ he said. ‘Better than the stuff they dish up in that catering van. Hey Marcus – get me another of these, will you. Yeah, with apple sauce, and crackling if they’ve got it.’

  ‘There!’ Lewis announced triumphantly, stopping dead in his tracks. Simon and two of the minders trundled into him.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Over there,’ he said, pointing to a maroon and rather tatty looking horsebox which had a large bay horse tethered alongside it. The girl was standing by the horse’s head, fastening the bridle. Her long blonde hair had been fastened into a shining plait which hung down the back of her navy blue show jacket, and she was wearing cream coloured breeches and black, polished knee length boots.

  ‘That, my friends,’ he announced, grinning profusely, ‘is Gabriella Johnson, and if I’m not mistaken Simon,’ he added slapping him heartily on the shoulder. ‘She is going to be the answer to all your prayers.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘You were cutting it a bit fine, weren’t you, Thomas?’ Heather Hutchins said, as she sorted through her things for a spare pair of riding gloves.

  ‘Aye well, I did my best,’ the small Irishman said, twirling the car keys around his finger, and winking mischievously at her. ‘She’s here, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, thank God.’ Heather picked up the leather gloves and a smart new whip she had bought especially for the show. ‘Ella, have you got a hat?’

  ‘It’s here,’ Thomas said, opening the boot of the sporty blue car he had borrowed for the afternoon. ‘Hat, stock, tie pin, the lot.’

  Ella ducked under Majesty’s head, and smiled at her co conspirators. ‘Honestly, you pair,’ she sighed. ‘You’ll get me shot.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ Heather said. ‘You deserve to ride, and that’s all there is to it.’

  Ella smiled as she pulled her hat on, and tightened the strap. ‘You’re sure you don’t mind?’

  ‘Of course not. Besides,’ Heather said, plucking at a strand of her light brown hair. ‘This is hardly classed as blonde, is it? I would have prob
ably been disqualified. No, you ride, Ella,’ she insisted. ‘Only make sure you win. I’ve already walked the course,’ she added, ‘and it’s not bad at all. It’s a tight turn between seven and eight, but Majesty should cope with that. Clear the final double and you’re home and dry.’

  ‘What’s the water jump like?’