The Riverdale Pony Stories Box Set (Books 1-6)

by Amanda Wills

  He brushed a fleck of mud from her jodhpurs. ‘You've really no need to be, Poppy. You're a great rider. We all think so. It's a shame you're the only one who can't see it.’

  Chapter Three

  Buoyed by Sam's words, Poppy headed for the collecting ring. You're a great rider, he'd said. Did he mean it, or was he just being kind, trying to boost her confidence before she went into the ring? True, he'd let her ride Star, his prizewinning jumping pony, on more than one occasion. And he'd made it clear he didn't let just anyone ride her. He'd once described Poppy as a quiet rider. She hadn't known if that was good or bad. Surely quiet riders were feeble and ineffectual? But Bella had told her it was a compliment.

  Cloud broke into a jog and Poppy tightened her reins. The last thing she needed was to fall off in front of everyone because she wasn't concentrating. She checked the Connemara, who snatched at the bit, impatient to jump.

  ‘There you are,’ said Caroline, appearing from behind a horse trailer. ‘I've been looking for you everywhere. I've left Charlie and Tory in the spectators' gallery. Your class has just started.’ She looked around. ‘Where's Scarlett?’

  ‘Gone to get her gloves. She won't be a minute.’

  Caroline regarded her, her hands on her hips. ‘You and Cloud look amazing. Like you've been competing together all your lives.’

  Poppy gave her stepmum a grateful smile. She always knew exactly the right thing to say.

  ‘Break a leg,’ Caroline added. Then she clutched her head and grimaced. ‘What a crazy thing to say. Don't break a leg. In fact, don't break anything. Go out there and jump your hearts out, both of you.’

  Poppy was giggling despite her nerves. ‘OK boss, we will.’

  There were eleven in the novice class, which was for ponies up to 148cm, or 14.2hh in old money, as Tory was fond of saying.

  The first pair to jump, a skinny girl with a long, blonde plait and an excitable dun pony, whizzed around the course but in their haste knocked down both the planks and the gate.

  ‘That's the trouble when you let your pony flatten,’ said Bella in a voice loud enough to be heard in Tavistock. A woman clasping a sweat rug gave her a filthy look and Poppy could see Sam cringing. Bella had many attributes. Diplomacy was not one of them.

  The second rider was a girl in Poppy and Scarlett's year at school. Her skewbald gelding looked balanced and focused as they trotted calmly into the ring.

  ‘Good luck,’ Scarlett called.

  ‘I don't think she's going to need it,’ said Poppy. And she was right. The skewbald jumped a faultless clear round.

  ‘That's the one to beat,’ bellowed Bella.

  Two more riders had four faults apiece and then it was Scarlett's turn to jump. Poppy gave her the thumbs up and Bella gave Red such a hearty pat on the rump that he shot into the ring like a stone in one of Charlie's homemade catapults.

  ‘I'm not going to put any pressure on him. I want him to enjoy today,’ Scarlett had told Poppy as they'd tacked up. Poppy noticed how her best friend let the chestnut gelding have a good look at the fillers as she trotted him around the ring, waiting for the starting bell to sound.

  When it did Scarlett squeezed Red into a canter and turned him towards the first fence. His chestnut ears were pricked as he leapt over it. He took off on the wrong leg but it didn't faze Scarlett, who slowed him to a trot and then asked him to canter on the right leg. Red popped over the second and third fences like an old pro but hesitated at the planks, which were painted in a garish green and red.

  ‘Come on, kiddo,’ said Scarlett and he made an enormous cat-leap over the jump to the amusement of the spectators. Scarlett checked him and he jumped the brush and rails neatly, his white socks tucked into his chest.

  Poppy realised she was holding her breath as Red cantered towards the double. She could see he was getting strong. Scarlett did her best to bring him back on the bit but he misjudged his stride and knocked down the first part of the double.

  ‘That's a shame. They were doing so well,’ said a familiar voice. Jodie Morgan had slipped into the collecting ring to watch Red's round.

  ‘How's Biscuit?’ Poppy asked, her eyes still on Scarlett and Red as they popped over the wall. Biscuit was an adorable appaloosa pony who'd helped save Jodie's horse rescue centre from bankruptcy that summer when he was filmed by the local television station and his story went viral.

  ‘The Mail on Sunday is sending Liz Jones over next week to write a feature on him. “A day in the life of Nethercote's famous laughing horse”,’ said Jodie, her gloved hands sketching apostrophes in the air.

  ‘Don't knock it. All publicity is good publicity,’ Poppy reminded her. ‘Think of your winter food bill.’

  They groaned as Red knocked down the second part of the final double. But Scarlett was beaming as she cantered out of the ring.

  ‘Eight faults in his first ever class! He's such a clever boy,’ she said. Even Jodie, who rarely showed her feelings, was smiling.

  ‘Number forty-seven!’ shouted the collecting ring steward and the posh girl on the dark bay gelding trotted past them into the ring. Poppy walked Cloud around in circles, trying to steady her racing pulse.

  ‘And that's four faults for Fiona Cavanagh-Smythe,’ announced the Tannoy what seemed like seconds later. ‘And next to jump we have number thirty-two, Poppy McKeever riding Cloud Nine!’

  Poppy looked around her in horror. After all the hard work, the endless jumping lessons, the books on riding techniques she'd pored over and the hours spent getting ready, and her worst nightmare had come true.

  She looked at Scarlett in horror.

  ‘I've forgotten the course!’

  Chapter Four

  Scarlett rode Red alongside Cloud and gave Poppy's arm a gentle squeeze.

  ‘No, you haven't. Picture us walking it together. It'll come back to you once you start, I promise. And forget all about the people watching. It's just you and Cloud out there, OK? You can do it, Poppy.’

  Poppy rammed her hat down low on her forehead and took a deep breath. Scarlett was right. She could do this. She kicked Cloud into a canter, nearly knocking the collecting ring steward flying. The lights in the arena seemed bright after the murky December weather outside and it took a moment for Poppy's eyes to adjust. She slowed Cloud to a trot and dipped her head at the judge, as she'd seen the other riders do. Her eyes scoured the arena for the first jump, the red and white upright. But which jump was next? Poppy forced herself to concentrate. Scarlett had held out her right arm as she'd measured the related distance to the green and white upright. Of course. And then the spread and a right turn to the planks. She could remember after all!

  Poppy sat tall in the saddle and fixed her eyes on the first fence, as Bella had taught her to do. The starting bell sounded and she asked Cloud for a canter. His ears pricked, he met the upright perfectly. He landed neatly and Poppy turned him towards the green and white upright and the spread.

  ‘Steady,’ Poppy murmured as they approached the planks. But she needn't have worried. Cloud flew over with inches to spare. Mid-air, Poppy remembered they were changing direction and squeezed her left rein. The Connemara landed on the left leg and popped over the brush and rails as if it was a fallen log on the moor.

  Four strides to the double, which Cloud cleared easily, and then a left turn to the wall. Poppy folded forwards, allowing her hands to go with him as he stretched over the jump.

  For a second, as they landed, Poppy couldn't remember which jump was next, the white upright with the red fillers or the blue and white upright three strides before the double. Just in time she remembered and pointed Cloud at the white jump. Three long strides or four short ones to the blue and yellow parallel bar. Poppy opted for three and pushed Cloud on. He took off early and Poppy held her breath as his back legs rattled the pole in the cups. But it was their lucky day. The pole stayed where it was.

  Jump ten was the solid-looking gate. Poppy pretended it was the small wattle gate she'd set up in Clo
ud and Chester's field as part of her homemade cross country course. Cloud jumped it easily. And then another left turn to the final three jumps, set up like a line of gridwork. Poppy remembered not to look down as Cloud jumped the first. Once he'd landed she sat down in the saddle and used her seat to push him forwards and he soared over the double.

  Poppy shook her head in amazement as they cantered through the finish line. A clear round at their first show together! Her heart bursting with pride, she jumped off Cloud the minute they left the ring and threw her arms around him. Her legs felt as wobbly as pipe cleaners as the adrenalin flooded out of her system and she clung to her pony for support as first Bella and then Caroline, Scarlett, Sam, Tory, Charlie and Jodie all came up and clapped her on the shoulder and told her what a brilliant round it had been.

  Poppy could have stayed where she was for several days, basking in all the attention, but the harassed-looking collecting ring steward marched over and asked them to move out of the way. Poppy ran up her stirrups and loosened Cloud's girth.

  ‘I'll walk him around for you so you can go with Gran to look at the jump-off course,’ said Sam, appearing by her side.

  Poppy stared at him, wide-eyed. In her excitement she'd clean forgotten she would be jumping again, this time against the clock. She gave Cloud one last hug and watched Sam lead him away before following Bella and Scarlett to the spectators' gallery.

  ‘There are only four clear rounds,’ said Bella, as they leant on the rails and watched the stewards raise some fences and dismantle others. ‘You jump the first then gallop to the third. The fourth and fifth are as before then it's a tight turn to the ninth.’

  ‘Which one's that?’ said Poppy, who was finding it hard to follow where Bella was pointing.

  ‘The blue and yellow parallel bar that you demolished earlier,’ said Scarlett helpfully.

  ‘You can really make up some time with a tight turn to the gate, then it's a gallop down to the last two jumps. But don't let him flatten, whatever you do,’ said Bella.

  Poppy imagined she was riding the course. Ten fences. Nine if you were being pedantic. They all looked enormous.

  ‘They've put them up at least four holes,’ she groaned.

  ‘They just look big because you're at ground level. Once you're in the saddle they'll look positively tiny,’ said Scarlett.

  Poppy was unconvinced.

  ‘You're second to jump,’ Bella announced. ‘You'd better go and find your pony.’

  Once again Poppy waited in the collecting ring, trying to contain her nerves. The girl on the skewbald cantered out to a round of applause.

  ‘And a second clear round from Lucy White and Patchwork in a time of fifty-nine seconds,’ announced the Tannoy.

  ‘Good luck!’ called Lucy as she passed.

  Poppy smiled her thanks and clicked her tongue. Cloud trotted merrily into the ring. He was so obviously enjoying himself that Poppy felt her nerves melt away.

  The bell went and they cantered towards the first jump. Safely over it, Cloud lengthened his stride to the third. Poppy checked him so he was back on his hocks in time to jump the planks. Four strides to the brush and rails and then the Connemara turned on a sixpence to jump the blue and yellow parallel bar. Poppy sat back in the saddle and pulled him sharply to the left. Too late she realised she'd set him an impossible task. The angle they were approaching the gate was too tight. She half expected him to run out. But Cloud had the heart of a lion and he took off so close to the wing that Poppy clipped it with her boot.

  It was enough to send the gate crashing to the ground. Poppy resisted the urge to look back and instead focused on maintaining her contact and looking for the next jump. They met the blue and white upright perfectly and flew over the double.

  ‘Four faults for Poppy McKeever and Cloud Nine in an impressive time of fifty-two seconds,’ crackled the Tannoy. Euphoria swept through Poppy as they cantered out of the ring.

  Sam and Scarlett were waiting for her in the collecting ring.

  ‘Bad luck,’ commiserated Scarlett.

  ‘Never mind,’ said Sam, feeling in his pocket for a handful of pony nuts.

  ‘Never mind?’ said Poppy, her face flushed. ‘That was brilliant! The gate was totally my fault but Cloud jumped like an angel. We made the jump-off. Who cares if we had four faults. I feel like a proper rider at last.’

  Realising her voice had gone all squeaky, she slithered off Cloud and buried her face in his neck, drinking in the heady smell of sweaty horse. Scarlett watched in astonishment as she took off her hat and ran up her stirrups.

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’

  ‘Taking Cloud back to the trailer, what else?’ said Poppy.

  ‘You twit! You're going to come at least fourth. And by the sound of that,’ - they listened to the thud of crashing poles echoing around the indoor arena - ‘probably third. Get back on and go and get your first rosette.’

  ‘Alright, bossy knickers,’ countered Poppy. But a big grin had spread across her face and she rammed on her hat and jumped back into the saddle without another word.

  Bella appeared beside them.

  ‘There were two clear rounds in the end, and someone else had four faults too. But yours was the fastest time by seven seconds. Well done, Poppy. You came third.’

  Chapter Five

  Poppy knew she would remember cantering around the indoor arena for her first ever lap of honour for the rest of her life. Even if she lived to one hundred and two. In fact she would bore the other residents at her old people's home silly with stories of the day she came home with a rosette from her first ever show.

  Once she was satisfied that Cloud was settled, Poppy went in search of the others. She found them in the spectators' gallery, watching the stewards build the course for the open jumping. Angela Snell, Georgia's trainer and the Claydon livery yard manager, stood in the middle of the arena, consulting a clipboard and barking instructions.

  ‘You think I'm bossy,’ said Scarlett, pointing her thumb at Angela. The woman's hair was pulled back in a severe bun and the tight set of her shoulders and her thin-lipped expression spoke of imperious impatience.

  ‘Crikey, Sam. I thought our jumps were big, but these are enormous,’ said Poppy, as the course took shape.

  But Sam wasn't looking. Instead he was staring at a man with salt and pepper hair and a matching handlebar moustache who was sitting four rows behind them.

  Poppy nudged him. ‘Who's that?’

  ‘Peter Frampton,’ he whispered. His face had frozen. Whether it was through fear or awe, Poppy couldn't be sure.

  ‘Who's Peter Frampton?’ she whispered back.

  ‘Only the guy who runs the British Showjumping Pony European Championships squad.’ The words fell over themselves in a jumble. Sam rocked back on his seat and stared at the ceiling. ‘What's he doing here?’

  ‘Come to watch you and Georgia, I expect,’ said Jodie. ‘I heard on the grapevine that one of his team had moved to seniors, so he must have a space to fill.’

  ‘Wait, that was the team you were picked for, wasn't it?’ Poppy asked Jodie. ‘You were going to represent Britain at the championships in Sweden.’

  Jodie scowled. ‘Until my dad decided to fiddle the books at work and the police seized Nero as proceeds of crime. He was my jumping pony,’ she explained to Sam. ‘At least you won't have to worry about that when you get picked.’

  ‘If I get picked.’ Sam risked another glance over his shoulder. Peter Frampton was making notes in a small, leather-bound notebook. ‘Georgia's pony Barley has been jumping out of his skin all winter. They've beaten us at the last two indoor shows.’

  Scarlett gave a derisive snort.

  Poppy punched Sam lightly on the shoulder and stood up. ‘And people tell me I'm a pessimist. Come on, we'll keep you company while you walk the course.’

  Sam needn't have worried. He and Star pulled off a flawless round, flying over the enormous fences as if they were cavalettis in a pony paddock. They
were the epitome of grace and style, thought Poppy, as the black Connemara mare cantered out of the ring to rapturous applause.

  ‘When's Georgia due to jump?’ Jodie asked.

  ‘Last, I believe,’ said Bella, who, like the others, was on the edge of her plastic seat.

  ‘Typical. I bet she bribed the show organisers,’ said Scarlett, loudly enough for Peter Frampton's head to jerk up.

  ‘Scarlett!’ said Poppy, shocked. ‘That's not fair.’

  Scarlett's hazel eyes blazed dangerously. ‘Why are you sticking up for the moody madam all of a sudden?’

  ‘You're virtually accusing her of cheating without one iota of evidence. You can't do that.’

  ‘Why are you so bothered? She's a spoilt little rich girl who'll do anything to win.’

  Keen not to ruin her perfect day with an argument with her best friend, Poppy decided to humour her. ‘I'm not bothered at all,’ she shrugged.

  They sat and watched half a dozen more rounds in silence. Two more riders jumped clear, but neither showed Sam's flair. Charlie announced he was bored and talked Caroline into giving him money for a hot dog. Tory showed Poppy and Scarlett her sleek new mobile.

  ‘It's a clever phone,’ the old woman whispered proudly. ‘My nephew gave it to me in case of emergencies.’

  ‘Clever phone?’ said Scarlett, frowning.

  ‘It's ingenious. It has the internet and emails and everything.’

  ‘You mean smart phone,’ giggled Poppy.

  ‘Yes, that's what I said. I just wish I could remember how to switch the damn thing on.’

  Poppy was attempting to show Tory how to send a text when the Tannoy echoed around the cavernous arena, ‘And the last to jump is number one, Georgia Canning on her pony Pearl Barley.’

  There was a faint ripple of applause and Poppy stole a look behind her. Peter Frampton was drumming his fingers on his thigh, an unreadable expression on his face.