Pony Jumpers 1- First Fence

by Kate Lattey

  I’ve felt that way myself sometimes. At school, wearing my stupid uniform and walking through the halls filled with other people, all so much smarter and prettier and more confident than me, I would imagine myself on horseback. I’d picture Molly’s pricked ears in front of me, or Lucas’ arched neck with its short flaxen mane. I’d imagine their confident, swinging length of stride, and hold myself straighter and walk taller, filled with a sense of purpose and competence. Feeling like a complete person, strong and capable and ready to take on the world, if only there was a horse under me.

  Sam must have felt that way too. I only met her a handful of times, but she was always nice, friendly and quick to offer encouragement and praise. Everyone loved her – horses included. Everyone said she could’ve jumped a donkey around Badminton, and I wondered how it had all gone so terribly wrong.

  * * *

  Lucas’ chestnut ears were pricked ahead of me as I cantered across the diagonal of the arena. Three strides, two strides, one stride out of the corner and I asked for a flying change. Lucas gave it to me as always, but he was late behind, and took one disunited step before correcting himself. I gritted my teeth as I balanced him around the turn, waiting for Mum to comment.

  It didn’t take long.

  “He was late behind,” she called from her vantage point on the long side, sitting on an oil drum turned sideways with Critter panting at her feet.

  “I can tell for myself. I’m not a beginner.”

  I turned Lucas away from Mum, still cantering, and circled him in the corner. Focused hard on having him pushing through from behind, working that inside hind leg, bending through his body yet staying light and supple in the contact. I could feel him focusing beneath me, trying so hard to do what I was asking of him. I blocked out Mum’s continuing barrage of criticism of my riding and aimed Lucas back across the diagonal. This time, I let his canter out a little as we went, wrapping my legs around his sides and powering him up, letting his stride get quicker and longer as we crossed the middle of the arena. Sat down and looked right and prepared for the turn, then slid my outside leg back and shifted my weight slightly to the right. Lucas executed a flawless flying change onto the right lead.

  “Good boy,” I told him, letting my inside hand shift forward to touch his withers as gentle praise, and Lucas arched his neck slightly in response. Molly had taught me that technique. She didn’t appreciate overenthusiastic patting, and the first time I’d tried to praise her with the conventional firm slaps on her neck for a job well done, she’d thrown her head up and given me a nosebleed. That’d only had to happen a couple of times before I’d discovered that less was more with her, and softened my approach. The habit had gradually translated over to my other ponies, who all seemed to appreciate it too. As it turned out, horses preferred a gentle rub to an open-handed whack. Not rocket science, if you thought about it, but it took Molly complaining to make me work it out. There were a lot of things I’d taken for granted before she came into my life, but everything she’d taught me had made me a much better rider, even if I’d had to learn them through a lot of trial and error.

  Lucas made another perfect flying change back onto the left lead, and I eased him back to a walk, letting the reins out onto his neck and scratching his withers with my fingertips.

  “Good job.” Mum looked out across the arena towards our yard, where a big black Range Rover had just driven in. “Who’s this?”

  I shrugged, kicking my feet free of the stirrups and circling Lucas. “Wasn’t someone coming to look at Robin?”

  “They cancelled,” Mum reminded me.

  “I wish they hadn’t.” I let one hand rest on my thigh as I rode Lucas in a smaller circle, using my seat and leg to steer him. I held the reins one-handed and high, pretending I was a Western rider on a stock horse. Lucas lowered his head obligingly, playing his part. “I can’t wait to get rid of that pony.”

  “Don’t you dare talk like that about him when they do show up,” Mum cautioned me, and I rolled my eyes.

  “I’m not stupid. We have sold ponies before, you know.”

  Mum and I had spent the past few years patching together additional income by buying cheap ponies, producing them well and selling them on at a profit. We always had several on the go, and when I was younger no pony was safe from being sold out from under me. Even my good ponies, the ones that had been bought with the intention to keep them and let me have a shot at the big time, had left when the money got too good. Reebok and Johnny and Tucker and Spice. Bart, Coffee, Kiwi and little Prancer. Every time, Mum had promised me that the money would go on an even better pony, but somehow it never had. We’d always needed something else more, and she could never let a cheap prospect pass her by.

  Molly had been the first pony to come on long-term lease, unable to be sold on, and Lucas had followed a year later. They were the only two on the property that were safe. Puppet was also a lease, but I already knew he wasn’t going to get to stick around, because his owners had some wild aspiration that their twelve-year-old daughter Lacey was going to be capable of riding him some day. Considering Lacey was one of those kids who cried if her pony cantered, and wouldn’t jump more than a crossbar, the very thought of her sitting on a pony as sensitive and talented as Puppet broke my heart, but it wasn’t something I could do anything about.

  “Can you see who it is?” Mum asked as we heard a car door slam, and I turned in the saddle and squinted from my higher vantage point. A man in a black windbreaker and grey jeans was standing in the yard, talking to AJ as she brushed out Squib’s white tail.

  “Some guy,” I told Mum. “Probably trying to sell us something we don’t need.”

  I watched AJ turn and point towards the arena, right at me. The man’s eyes followed her arm, and he saw me. After nodding a brief thanks to my friend, he turned and started walking towards us, and something in the pit of my stomach turned to ice. I knew that man. I looked at Mum, and she saw the panic on my face.

  “What?”

  I couldn’t say it out loud. She would see soon enough, when he stepped around the other side of the flax bushes and appeared in the gateway of our arena. I kept my head turned away from him, watching her face instead and waiting to gauge her reaction. I was probably wrong. I had to be. Because it couldn’t be…

  “Lionel,” Mum breathed, and my heart thudded again.

  He strode towards us as though nothing was wrong, as though he hadn’t walked out on us several years ago and left us to fend for ourselves, because he had met a younger, blonder, fitter and far less horse-obsessed woman than my mother, and decided that actually, he didn’t want to be a father or a husband after all.

  I kept glancing at Mum, watching the tight lines pinching around the edges of her mouth as her eyes narrowed, and I moved Lucas right up next to her and drew him to a halt. Mum reached out and put a hand on my pony’s neck, and Lucas raised his head and watched Dad approach, picking up on our tension.

  I dropped my fingers to his withers and gave him a reassuring scratch. I couldn’t make my problems into his.

  Dad spoke first. “Hello.”

  “What do you want?” I asked, stepping in before Mum could speak. Her fingers clutched at Lucas’ short mane, and he turned and touched her with his muzzle reassuringly. Critter hovered around Mum’s ankles, growling tentatively at my father.

  “I came to see you.”

  “Did you just? Well excuse us for not rolling out the red carpet.”

  “Katy.” Mum’s voice was a warning, and I glared down at her. Don’t you dare treat him with respect, I wanted to yell at her. If there was one fault that my mother had, it was being too nice to people. After what my father had done, walking out without a backwards glance and barely contacting us in the years since, he didn’t deserve her respect, and he sure as hell didn’t deserve her forgiveness.

  “What?” I asked her, but she ignored me.

  “I came to let you know that I’m moving back,” Dad said. “Well, I’ve mov
ed back actually. Left Aussie a couple of weeks ago. Haven’t bought a place yet, but I’m looking. I’d like to be close by, if possible.”

  He smiled at me, as though I was going to fling myself off my pony and into his arms. As if all those years and miles that had come between us could be wiped out in an instant, but I just stared at him, unable to believe my ears.

  “What makes you think we want you anywhere near us?”

  He looked surprised by my reaction, and I wanted to punch him and kick him and scream at him for being so stupid. “I’m your father, Kate.”

  “No you’re not,” I told him emphatically, nudging Lucas forward and steering him past the tall, lanky man in the middle of my arena. “Go away and leave us alone.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “You’re being weirdly quiet.”

  I rolled onto my stomach and looked at AJ as our horse truck rattled down the highway towards the Foxton Racecourse. It was early on Saturday morning, so early that it was still dark outside, and we were on our way to Foxton for a weekend of show jumping. And after the week I’d had, I was more than ready for a spot of healthy competition, to take my mind off everything else.

  “Just sleepy, I guess,” AJ said with a shrug.

  “Well, if you want sleep I suggest you get it now, because once we arrive it’s going to be all hands on deck,” I told her, glancing past her at the dividing wall that separated our accommodation from the row of ponies standing in the back, hidden from our sight.

  AJ’s exuberant grey pony Squib was just the other side of that wall, standing next to Molly and Lucas. My six-year-old dark bay gelding Forbes was there, and Robin, the boring bright bay gelding that we were hoping to sell as a Show Hunter pony, because he was far too dull and uninspiring to ever have much chop as a show jumper. Even four-year-old Puppet had come along, filling up the last space on the truck and about to have his first overnight experience at a show. I planned to ride him around between classes and give him a taste of the atmosphere, and maybe canter him around a couple of low classes if I had time. It was always good for the young ponies to have an outing without too much pressure – it gave them a positive experience and ensured that they looked forward to their next event.

  I closed my eyes and tried to doze, taking my own advice. This was going to be a frantic, non-stop weekend, but that was how I wanted it. I didn’t need a spare moment to be thinking about anything other than course plans and clear rounds and whether my prize money would pay back my entries this week.

  “I have to tell you something.”

  I opened one eye and looked at AJ. “Go on then.”

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  “Try me.”

  “It’s about your dad.”

  She had my attention now, and I sat up and looked at her. “What about him?”

  “I…” She looked nervous. “I think he might be coming to the show this weekend.”

  “What?” I blinked at her, my head reeling. “How does he know…”

  “It just kind of slipped out when he turned up the other day,” AJ admitted. “I’m sorry! But I didn’t even know he was your dad, and…”

  I cut her off. “How exactly does something like that just slip out?” I asked her angrily. “You only talked to him for about thirty seconds!”

  AJ hastened to explain, tripping over her own words. “Well I was brushing out Squib’s tail, and he asked me if I was keeping it clean for a special occasion, and I was like we’re going show jumping at Foxton this weekend, and he asked if Squib was much of a jumper, and I said yes but not as good as your ponies, and he asked if you were riding at Foxton too and I said yes. I had no idea who he was, Katy. I wouldn’t have said anything if I’d known how you felt about him.”

  “So you thought he was a total stranger, but you still filled him in on my life?” I couldn’t believe it. “Aren’t you the daughter of a detective? Shouldn’t you be more wary of random people questioning you?”

  “Katy.” Mum’s voice came from the front seat of the truck, reminding me that she could overhear our conversation. She adjusted her hands on the wheel and glanced in the rearview mirror at me. “She didn’t know.”

  “But-”

  “It’s done now,” Mum said. “And if he does turn up, I can ask him to leave.”

  “You can tell him, is what you can do,” I replied. “I don’t want him hanging around. God!” I lay back down on the sofa, fuming. “He abandons us and moves to Australia, conveniently forgetting that we even exist, and then comes swanning back when his girlfriend dumps him and just expects us to take him back with open arms? Who the hell does he think he is?”

  I knew from the start that it was not going to be my best show. It didn’t start well, and it got worse as the day went along. And I couldn’t even use Dad’s presence as an excuse, because there was no sign of him at all on Saturday. But the omnipresent shadow of his potential arrival was very off-putting, and I rode badly. I picked up a couple of low ribbons in the Show Hunters on Robin, but completely stuffed up the Championship. The other ponies jumped okay, but the highlight of the day ended up being AJ’s super double clear in the metre-ten on Squib. She rode a cracker and finished third, which should have put me in a great mood. After years of training ponies, the shine had long since come off my own successes in the lower rings, but helping AJ and watching her improve gave me a buzz like no other. Yet somehow even that felt flat.

  But there was still the Pony Grand Prix to come, and I could not let anything stuff that up. It was the pinnacle of every show for me, the most prestigious class at the highest level of pony show jumping. It always had the biggest prize money and the fiercest competition, not to mention the highest jumps. Nothing ever meant more at a show than doing well in the Grand Prix, and although I’d put Molly wrong at the double in the 1.20m on Saturday morning, and given Lucas an appalling ride to the oxer in the 1.25m jump off on Saturday afternoon, I had my game face on by Sunday morning.

  AJ was saddling Molly for me as I screwed in Lucas’ studs. I crouched next to him, resting his hoof on my knee as I re-tapped the thread.

  “These are getting pretty worn,” I told Mum as she slung Lucas’ tack over the railing in the covered yards. “Definitely time for a new set on his next rotation. When’s Don coming down next to do refits?”

  “Couple of weeks yet,” Mum told me. “Are you sure you can’t get a bit more mileage out of those?”

  I shook my head as I fitted the spanner around the sides of the stud and pulled it around towards me. “Nope, they’re wearing out at the toes anyway, and these threads are completely shot.” I pulled harder on the spanner, and Lucas shifted his weight, unimpressed. “Sorry buddy. Once more around, and they’ll be snug as a bug.”

  I was just finishing up when I heard my mother’s voice in a low hiss. “You can’t be here.”

  My heart sank as I dropped Lucas’ hoof back to the ground and turned to see my father standing in front of my pony. Lucas reached over the railings and nuzzled him hopefully, his pink muzzle rummaging around Dad’s pockets as I straightened up.

  “Get out of it,” I grumbled at my pony, putting a hand on his chest and shoving him backwards as Dad tried to reach up and pat his face. “Leave him alone,” I told my father. “Leave all of us alone. What are you doing here?”

  “I came to watch you ride. Not a criminal offence, is it?”

  “It is to me. I don’t want you here.”

  Mum was muttering at him, trying to persuade him to walk away and leave us be. AJ was watching me from the next yard, her expression guilty as her eyes flickered between me and my parents. I turned away from all of them and grabbed Lucas’ saddle off the railing, slinging it onto his back in one swift motion. Focusing only on that, on making sure that the saddle blanket was completely flat and the gel pad was sitting in just the right place as I slid the saddle back into position.

  My parents’ voices grew louder and I ducked around to the other side of my pony to avoid them
. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a dark bay pony come to a halt next to Lucas’ yard, and I turned to see Susannah Andrews sitting on her experienced show jumper Buckingham, staring at my bickering parents. She was kitted out in all the top brands, money just oozing from her and her pony alike. Her parents were right behind, her father leading her second mount, the gorgeous chestnut Skybeau, also rigged up to the nines. Both of her ponies were top notch, pushbutton rides. The kind of ponies that a five-year-old could ride, completely fool-proof and absolute winning machines. They were the only type of pony she’d ever owned, because her parents only cared about winning. Everyone knew just how far they’d gone in the past to ensure that their darling daughter won, and as a result, most of the other pony riders on the Grand Prix circuit steered pretty well clear of them. Nobody wanted to incite their wrath, and face the potential consequences. Their last attack on a rival’s pony had been unsuccessful, at least in terms of taking them out of contention, but we all knew that the pony still bore the scars.

  Susannah glanced at me, then back to my parents, whose argument was blocking her progress down the sand aisle that ran between the covered yards. I decided not to care. Let her wait. I went back to the other side of Lucas and snugged up his girth, then reached for his bridle, hanging over the yard railing.

  Susannah’s pony Buck reached out a friendly nose to Lucas, and they sniffed each other briefly before I elbowed Lucas in the chest, pushing him back so I could get his bridle on.

  “Are they going to be long?” Susannah asked me, nodding towards my parents.

  I narrowed my eyes at her tone. “Sorry, are we in your way? Should we part like the Red Sea to let you through? Mum!” I turned and looked at my mother, whose head swivelled towards me. “You’re in her Highness’ way.”