Pony Club Cup (Woodbury Pony Club Book 1)

by Josephine Pullein-Thompson

  “Well done, now see if you can change the rein through the circle and go round the other way. Good, you’ve got the idea. And I’m afraid that you’ve simply got to go on and on like that until he develops the right muscles. It’s a long and boring business.”

  “I don’t mind,” said Alice, patting the dun neck. “I’ve got nothing else to do these holidays so I may as well try to re-school him even though he’s not mine.”

  “Right, well we’ll have Rupert next. Bring that pony over here—I want to have a look at the noseband. Good grief!” he went on indignantly. “You’ve pulled it up so tight she can’t flex her jaw. Of course she’s not going on the bit, you’ve made it impossible.”

  “I thought they weren’t supposed to open their mouths,” said Rupert, his pink and white face flushing scarlet. “I thought that was the whole point of a dropped noseband.”

  “No, it’s to stop them opening their mouths wide and evading the bit. To have a soft mouth and a supple spine a pony must flex or relax his jaw and gently chew his bit. Jump off and let it out. You must leave room for three fingers.”

  “You all seem to have the idea that if a little of something is good, more of it must be better,” he complained, as Rupert remounted and began to walk round. “It’s not true. We want as few gadgets and bits as possible. We want to use the lightest possible aids. We want to make everything look easy and simple. That’s the sign of a good rider.”

  “But lots of leg,” suggested Alice.

  “No, not more than is necessary. None of you have learned to use your legs and seats properly yet. You’re not ‘active’ riders. Everyone is a beginner for at least two years and then, as you become more experienced, you have to change into an active rider, who influences his horse, instead of just sitting on him. Once we’ve got you all riding forward, using your legs and seats automatically, and you’ve developed the right muscles, it won’t be such an effort.”

  He turned to Rupert. “Leave her nose alone. Stop thinking you can pull it in. Ride her forward, and think about her hindlegs. If you get them working she’ll start to improve. Your hands feel her mouth, but they follow it. There mustn’t be any backward pull. You wouldn’t ride a bicycle pedalling like hell with the brakes on, would you?”

  When Rupert began to look exhausted he was called in and Lizzie took his place. They could all see how stiff Rajah was on the circle, and Lizzie, looking down, seemed to have become equally tense and rigid.

  “Relax,” David shouted at her. “Loosen your elbow joints, stop fixing your hands on his neck. You won’t get anywhere if you try to force him into the correct position, in fact you’ll make it more difficult. Relax, put your reins in one hand and look at the scenery.” When he had Lizzie and Rajah both looking less tense, David called them in.

  “Your pony has been spoiled,” he said. “He’s not like your brother’s youngster, who’s just green and unschooled. He’s acquired bad habits and being middle-aged he’s set in his ways. You can’t force him into another shape, force him to bend his ribs, but with suppling exercises we can certainly improve him. Have you heard of shoulder-in?”

  Lizzie nodded.

  “Well I think he’d find that too difficult at the moment, so I’d like to start with something called leg-yielding. It’s quite simple,” he added as Lizzie’s expression became anxious. “Just walk round on the circle, now turn his head in a little more with your inside rein and at the same time push his quarters out with your inside leg. No, no, no. Sit up, look up, relax your elbows. If you stiffen up and sit badly you make it harder for him. All right, ride on, and when you’ve come round the circle, try again.”

  Lizzie had to struggle so hard against her own habits of looking down, leaning over and stiffening her elbows, that she couldn’t do much about Rajah, and the more David looked at her the stiffer and more self-conscious she became. He turned back to the others.

  “Rosie’s not ready for this yet, but let’s try the dun. Walk him round on the same circle as Lizzie and when you’ve got him going nicely, increase the feel on the inside rein and push his quarters out, just for a couple of steps.”

  Saffron was good at it and Lizzie, seeing that it could be done, stopped worrying and suddenly Rajah got the idea.

  “Well done,” shouted David in tones of triumph. “Did you feel that? He took an extra-large step with his hindleg and at the same moment flexed his jaw. That’s what we want. Give him a pat and then try again. You see it’s the inside hindleg coming under the body and taking the weight that enables them to bend.”

  He told the two girls to practise on the other rein while he looked at Jupiter, and Hanif set off, holding his reins at the buckle and pleading with Jupiter to behave.

  “Well, that’s certainly an improvement,” announced David. “What about the trot?”

  “We sort of lumber round,” answered Hanif, gingerly urging Jupiter into a gentle jog.

  “Good, you’ve taught yourself not to pull at him. Now you’ve got to acquire control by using the legs.”

  “Legs?” repeated Hanif. “We’ll be off down the field if I do.”

  “That’s another bad habit then,” said David. “You can’t let your pony think that legs only mean ‘go faster’. They don’t, they also mean ‘put your hindlegs further under you’, ‘go slower, but more collectedly’, and, as we tried to teach him the other day, ‘half-halt’. You can’t do anything with a pony that runs away from the leg. We have to teach him to accept it, just as we have to teach him to accept the bit. Now start using each leg in turn at the walk, slowly in time with his stride. Never mind if he jogs, tell him to walk. Relax, give him a pat, go on using your legs. Now pick up your reins, very quietly, go on using your legs. You’ve got to ride him forward. Forward, on to the bit. Try a halt, and again remember to ride him forward into the halt. Your hands and your weight give him the signal, but there’s no pulling. You go on riding him forward and finally he stops. Do you begin to understand?”

  “Yes, I think so,” said Hanif doubtfully.

  “Well, you carry on schooling, I’ll just watch. Use your legs one at a time when walking, both together at the trot, and don’t attempt cantering for the moment. The trot is much the best pace at which to school.”

  Presently he called them all over. “Well, that’s enough for today. I’m sure they’ve all got aching muscles and I hope you have. Are you pleased with them?”

  “Yes.” Alice spoke first. “He’s going far better at the trot and he loves leg-yielding.”

  “I think I’m beginning to see a faint glimmer of light at the far end of the tunnel.” Hanif didn’t seem very certain. “But I still can’t quite see myself jumping round a ring under control.”

  “Nor can I,” agreed David. “The answer is don’t attempt to jump until you can ride him on the flat.”

  “Is it all right if I tell my stepfather that you say definitely not to enter any more shows for the moment? You see, he thinks I’m being wet, but he regards you as an expert. He’d take it from you.”

  “That’s big of him,” said David. “Well, tell him that I’d rather you didn’t show-jump until I’ve sorted the pair of you out, and that to do so will only delay the sorting process.”

  He turned to the Wheelers. “Lizzie, did you get anywhere?”

  “Yes. Ra’s bending a tiny bit and he’s chewed his bit several times and he’s got the idea of leg-yielding.”

  “Rosie’s still pretty ghastly,” complained Rupert.

  “She’s young. You can produce quicker results with a spoiled horse; a young one always needs plenty of time. The trouble with you is that you go round and round in a dream, boring the pants off your pony. Do try and think what you’re aiming for and practise energetically for short spells. Think of yourselves as teachers and then see how you rate. I see Alice as a bit too demanding, Rupert droning on and on, putting everyone to sleep, and Lizzie so uptight about it all she makes her pupils feel that they never make it.”

  “What
about Harry?” asked Rupert.

  “I haven’t decided about him yet.”

  “David.” Paul, who had been waiting for his chance, braced himself to speak. “I suppose you couldn’t give us some extra lessons, could you? I know our ponies aren’t really difficult, but we would like to improve.”

  “Yes, so would Netti.” Lizzie spoke up for her sister. “And I’m sure the Rookes would love to have some lessons too.”

  “What about training us for this new cup? I don’t mean that we should enter, l know we’re not good enough for this year, but it would give us something to work for,” said Lynne in very diplomatic tones. She’d discussed the whole matter with her mother.

  David looked around at their serious faces. “You mean that you’re not content with a rally once a week?” he asked.

  “No. Four rallies in the Easter holidays don’t get you anywhere,” complained Rupert.

  “The Cranford Vale have a week’s camp in the summer and three-day courses as well as the ordinary rallies,” added Lizzie, who’d seen Jennifer Blacker’s fixture card.

  “We’ll never be as good as them, but I’m sure we’d improve with training,” observed Lynne.

  “If we’re going to train for this cup we’d need a cross-country course and a dressage arena,” David pointed out. “Who’s going to do all the work?”

  “We would,” answered Paul in a determined voice. “You and Dad could tell us what to do and I know James would help if it was cross-country, and he’s very strong.”

  “Yes, we’d all help,” agreed Lizzie, and Hanif and Alice made assenting noises.

  “We might do something on Coppice Hill, I suppose,” said David thoughtfully.

  “It’s a bit rough and steep up there, isn’t it?” Paul sounded dubious.

  “That’s the whole point. You can’t do cross-country on the flat. Look, leave it with me. I’ll talk it over with Mrs Rooke and if we decide to go ahead she’ll telephone you all. O.K.?”

  “Yes,” Paul nodded, trying to hide his disappointment. He couldn’t see Mrs Rooke agreeing.

  “And thank you very much for today,” said Lizzie.

  “Yes, it’s been a great help.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “Pleasure,” said David. “You go on, I’ll follow slowly.”

  Hanif collected his rucksack. The Wheelers and Alice said goodbye to Paul and Lynne and then the four of them clattered away down the lane.

  “I wish Paul and Lynne hadn’t brought up this cup business again,” said Hanif. “I was going to ask if we could come again for another lesson, but now I’m sure he’ll be put off by the thought of dressage arenas and cross-country jumps.”

  “I thought he rather liked the idea of cross-country. His face brightened at the thought of Coppice Hill, wherever that may be,” said Alice.

  Rupert stood in his stirrups and pointed over the hedge with his whip. “It’s that hill, over there, with the rough wood on the top. It’s never ploughed. Too rough or too steep, I suppose.”

  Hanif looked across the flat, orderly fields, shaded different greens by their various crops, to the rising hill.

  “That one?” he asked, pointing in horror. “You’ll never see me or Jupe again if we have to go up there.”

  4

  Coppice Hill

  It was Sarah Rooke who telephoned the pony clubbers.

  “Message from David,” she told them. “He’s willing to start training for next year’s Area Cup and there will be cross-country sessions at Garland Farm on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Ten-thirty till about one. Bring lunch. Do you want to come? If you do, you have to come to all of them.”

  “Yes,” answered Alice, firmly silencing her qualms and fears and the knowledge that Saffron wasn’t ready to jump. “Yes, that’s terrific. I’ll be there.”

  Lizzie, who answered the Wheeler’s telephone, said yes without even consulting the others.

  “Well, I suppose it’ll be all right,” said Rupert when she told him. “David did say Rosie would be able to do cross-country with her peculiarly set-on head, and I suppose by some miracle she may discover how to take off.”

  Hanif was taken aback when Sarah told him that it was cross-country. “Are you sure he meant you to ask me?” he asked. “Because he told me that Jupiter wasn’t ready to jump yet.”

  “You’re definitely on the list,” answered Sarah, checking. “Perhaps you don’t have to do the jumps. I don’t know, you’ll just have to make up your mind.”

  “Well,” said Hanif doubtfully. “I suppose you’d better include me in.”

  On Monday morning Alice and Hanif met in the lane outside Shawbury. They had crossed the river and the Waterford road and were trotting up the bridle path to Four Cross, when they saw Lesley Rooke coming from the direction of Woodbury. They waited for her at the crossroads.

  “Hullo,” they said. And Alice asked, “Isn’t your sister coming?”

  “She’s gone on ahead with Tina Spencer. Mum thought Tina might be useful putting up jumps.”

  “It was good of your sister to telephone everyone,” said Hanif.

  “Oh yes, well the Great Sarah has such a perfect telephone manner no one else can touch her,” sneered Lesley.

  Embarrassed by the viciousness in her voice, Hanif and Alice were pleased to see James waiting for them at the fruit farm gate.

  “Jennifer’s not coming,” he told them gloomily. “She says it’s pointless to train if David’s not going to let us enter for the Cup and next year she’ll be too old. She’s right, course. It’s pointless for me too. I’ll be fourteen next March, but my mother nagged me into coming. She has this idea you must have an interest; she even groomed Ferdie for me this morning. My sister Nina’s potty about ballet so she’s all right, but I’m not potty about anything.”

  “But you’re a good rider and Ferdie’s so lovely,” said Alice, shocked. James’s heavy, solemn face brightened at the compliment. “We never do anything new,” he complained, “and pottering over cavaletti for ever isn’t much fun. I might enjoy it if we jumped something decent for a change—hedges and banks and streams.”

  “Do you think we will?” asked Hanif in horror.

  “No, not in this pony club,” answered James.

  “You can’t expect people to give up the time to make grand jumps,” Lesley told him briskly. “The Cranford Vale raised a lot of money from a barbecue to pay for their cross-country course and they’ve got two or three keen fathers who built it. There aren’t enough of us to hold a barbecue and none of the parents take much interest.”

  Alice and Hanif both had nervous flutterings and gnawing sensations in their stomachs as they rode up the Garland Farm lane, and the sight of Mr Roberts, helped by Paul and Lynne, loading poles, drums, and flags into the Land Rover did nothing to calm them.

  James groaned loudly. “I knew it. I wish I’d taken Jennifer’s advice. It’s going to be the same old scene.”

  “Except that it’s all going to Coppice Hill,” Paul told him.

  “Look at Chess. Isn’t he beautiful?” Sarah appeared the cattle yard leading Chess, his white parts showing pink skin through the damp hair, his mane half plaited. “We’ve been practising for the turnout.”

  “You won’t do any good in that,” said Lesley scathingly. “Your tack’s too old and you’re hopeless at plaiting.”

  “Lynne’s teaching me to plait and I’ll persuade Mummy to buy me some new tack before next Easter,” Sarah snapped back.

  “Tina can go in the Land Rover with David and steady these poles,” decided Paul.

  “I’d rather bike along with the rest of you,” said Tina, feeling suddenly shy.

  “You can’t bike along the track to Coppice Hill. It’s deep mud. The tractors have been churning it up all winter and we drove the cattle along it last week when we put them out on the hills.”

  “Tina can ride Berry and I’ll go with David,” offered Lynne. “I can ride round the farm any day.”

  “Oh
thanks,” Tina’s thin, freckled face lit up. “Are you sure?”

  “David said we were to start and he’d catch up with us, but the Wheelers aren’t here yet,” complained Paul.

  “If they’ve any sense they’ll go straight to Coppice Hill.” Lynne told him. “It’s much nearer for them to go along the sunken lane from Kidlake, but if they turn up here I’ll send them on.”

  Paul mounted and led the way along the muddy track, the single wire of an electric fence separating them from the pale green of young oats. Saffron and Jupiter jogged impatiently on Banjo’s tail. Lesley rode with James, but they didn’t speak to each other, and behind them, Sarah shrieked with annoyance as Chess’s immaculately white patches were splashed with liquid mud.

  Netti and Lizzie were waiting in the sunken lane.

  “We’ve lost Rupert.”

  “He forgot his lunch so he went back for it, ages ago,” they explained.

  “He’ll turn up,” said James.

  “But he’s so vague.” Lizzie looked down the lane with a worried expression. “I think I’d better go and look for him.”

  “Oh, don’t be pathetic,” snapped Lesley. “He can’t possibly lose himself between Kidlake and here.”

  “You don’t know Rupert.” Netti giggled. “He’s probably half way to the Woodbury Riding School by now. I don’t suppose he listened when we told him we were going to Coppice Hill.”

  “Here’s the Land Rover,” said Paul, dismounting and tugging at the slip rails that led from the lane into the rough pasture at the foot of the hill. “Get out of the way, Tina. David will want to drive in.”

  “Morning all,” said David, opening the Land Rover door to inspect the nine riders and ponies. “Who’s missing? Rupert?”