Pony Club Camp (Noel and Henry Book 5)

by Josephine Pullein-Thompson

  “I had a rotten apple,” grumbled Christopher. “I got hold of it straight away, but the piece I was biting came out.”

  “What bad luck,” said Marion sympathetically; Donald said, “It wasn’t fair” in Martin’s complaining voice.

  “Finalists, please,” shouted Henry. “Guy, Martin, Jean, Lynne, David, Margaret.”

  “Another horse holder, please,” called the major and Donald gave Seafire to Gay to hold and hurried across the ring.

  Fireworks didn’t stop quite so easily this time, but, even so, David reached his bucket first, though Guy and Margaret, both riding like windmills, were very close to him. The spectators were beginning to shout now as well as the watching competitors and the noise was tremendous as David, closely pursued by Margaret and then Guy, galloped home. Martin was a very much slower fourth.

  “The last event before tea,” announced Henry, when the rosettes had been given out, “is the Consolation Walk, Trot and Canter Race, open to all those who have not won first or second rosettes. We’ll have two heats,” he told the competitors. “All those over fourteen hands in the ring please. Christopher, wouldn’t you like to lend William to Martin?” he asked.

  “No, I jolly well would not,” Christopher answered.

  “Hey, Martin, have Beaut,” Jonathan offered. “She’s really good at this; it’s her favourite race and then I have to go and get a second.”

  “Say, that’s real swell of you, Pal,” said Martin in American accents and he hastily mounted Beauty while Jonathan took over Mousie.

  “You’ll want the first three,” Henry told the judges.

  Most of the ponies were so keyed up that on “Go” they set off at a gallop and practically all the first heat had to circle. Marion, Donald, Judith and Nicholas gradually drew ahead, Amber dawdled and Jackdaw jogged ceaselessly. At the trot Crusoe drew ahead and Wonder and Seafire stayed level, but when they began to gallop Wonder passed Seafire and finished a very close second to Crusoe.

  “Next heat,” shouted Henry, who was beginning to long for tea. Rob Roy won the second heat by virtue of his trot which completely outpaced all the other ponies. James and Jean were second and third. Martin was hopeless on Beauty; she cantered throughout the trotting phase and so did Joy on Tommy.

  “Finalists,” called Henry rather wearily: “Marion, Nicholas, Donald, Lynne, James, Jean.”

  Rob Roy’s trot won the race again, and Lynne was in an ecstasy of delight. Crusoe was second, Nicholas and Wonder third, Donald fourth, James fifth, and Jean sixth. But the major had produced some extra rosettes so each of the finalists was able to have one.

  “There will now be a tea interval,” announced Henry with a sigh of relief.

  “Put your ponies away in the lines,” the major told the members. “Take the tack off but don’t feed or water. Even if you’re not jumping you will want your pony for the inter-section relay race.”

  The parents were soon scattered all over the camp; they watched the ponies being put away in the lines, they were shown their offsprings’ tents and it was only with a great deal of bell ringing and shouting that they were got down to the barn for tea. The people who hadn’t parents, or other visitors to show round, ate tea together; except for Judith, who said that she certainly didn’t need to show her mother round the camp, so she would do line guard, and Carola, who offered to help her. The parents seemed very enthusiastic and the major soon found himself cornered by them. “Wonderful,” they were saying. “What organisation it must take,” and “The children are so enjoying themselves.”

  Henry and Noel, handing round cakes and sandwiches, found themselves pursued by parents too. “Not at all,” they answered, and “We enjoy it,” to exclamations on the hardness of their work. When everyone was eating contentedly Henry and Noel met in a corner of the barn. “Have one of my cakes,” said Henry proferring a large dishful. “I’ve been recommending those poisonous-looking pink things with extreme solicitude to all the pony club mums, but the chocolate ones look much safer.”

  “Thanks awfully,” said Noel, “Would you like some of my manly-looking fruit cake? The fathers have been very enthusiastic about it, except the sort that say they never eat tea.”

  Henry grinned, “They’re always so offensively virtuous about it,” he said, “as if there could be any virtue in not eating tea. My principles of feeding are the same as a horse’s: little and often; but not too little, and so often that it’s practically non-stop.”

  Noel said, “I’ve just realised something; I’ve committed a social error; I’ve cut Mrs. Millwood, I didn’t recognise her in a hat.”

  “They ought to wear little badges with their names on them,” observed Henry. “I don’t know any of them, but they seem to know me and I’ve had several long conversations about different people’s tots; I’ve discussed their riding ability and their characters fully without the least idea which tot I was talking about.”

  Noel laughed. “There’ll be some very peculiar parental instruction going on these holidays,” she said.

  “Oh, I was very guarded in my advice,” answered Henry. “Do you think we had better wander round with these provisions?”

  “Yes, perhaps we had,” agreed Noel.

  When they met again, Henry said, “Don’t you think it’s time I blew my whistle? Everyone seems to have eaten enough and poor Uncle George is completely surrounded by what can only be pony club grandmothers.”

  “I should think you could,” said Noel doubtfully, “They’ve mostly had two cups of tea and no one seems to want any more cake.”

  Henry blew his whistle and in the silence which followed, he said, “Members saddle up, please.” The members hastily swallowed the remains of their teas and rushed off to the horse lines.

  “I bet I do something mad,” said Gay saddling Sonnet. “It’s awful having such a good pony to ride in some ways; I’ve got a feeling that Noel expects me to do well.”

  “I’m bound to fall off,” said Penelope, “I always do if Mummy and Daddy are looking.”

  Donald felt depressed. He always did at gymkhanas. It was true that today a rosette decorated Seafire’s bridle, but it was only a dreary green fourth and won in the Consolation Race. Consolation Race, thought Donald angrily, he was too old to be consoled. He felt inclined to scratch from the jumping. He’d only muck it up; make himself feel more miserable than ever—disappoint his parents…

  Christopher thought, a first and a second, that’s not bad, but I’d have got something in the Apple and Bucket if it hadn’t been for that blasted rotten apple. Still we may do some good in the jumping, we’d have more chance if it were a Handy Hunter, still, the others are such drips that I may be able to pull something off. And if we don’t do some good in the Relay Race, there’ll be murder. The danger is the Oranges; they’ve got David and Gay…

  The course for the under 13.2 jumping was very low. Even Sally, who had been trying to make up her mind whether or not to enter throughout the day, announced that it looked easy and that she would enter after all.

  Noel was still tightening girths and giving advice when Henry began to call for the first competitor, Jean Millwood. The jumps presented no difficulties to Biddy, she popped round them with a wise expression on her grey face. Jonathan and Beauty, who followed, were also clear, but theirs was a more haphazard round; you could not say that horse and rider looked like one. James and Rocket were fast, tidy and efficient. Penelope’s Pickles produced a clear round by approaching each fence briskly, stopping just beforehand and then heaving himself over from a standstill. Joy and Martin both had three refusals at the first fence. Sally had two refusals and the triple down. Lynne had the triple down and Guy had one refusal at the first fence and then cleared the rest.

  The jumps were raised a little for the jump off and at once the competitors began to say that they looked enormous, but Biddy and Rocket both jumped clear again. Beauty had one fence down and Pickles four.

  “In this jump off,” announced Henry, after co
nsultation with the major and the judges, “if both competitors are clear the winner will be the one with the fastest time.”

  “Bother,” said Jean. “Biddy and I just can’t jump fast. Honestly, we’ve had it.”

  “Don’t try to go fast,” advised Gay. “Jump another clear round and if James wins it’s just too bad.”

  “O.K.,” said Jean. “Look at that triple. It’s simply huge; tons too big for Biddy.”

  “She’ll do it; use your legs,” said Gay.

  Margaret was giving James advice. “Don’t be feeble. Mind you gallop, give him a jolly good kick right at the beginning,” she recommended.

  James ignored her; he wanted to watch Biddy before he made plans.

  Biddy jumped a slow, but very precise clear round and then James rode in and, without hurrying, managed to jump a clear and obviously faster round. “Never mind, Biddy. You were jolly good, simply wizard,” Jean told her as she stuffed her with handfuls of oats.

  The little ponies looked very handsome as they lined up for their rosettes and their riders were all very pleased with them. “Jumping’s much the most important event,” they agreed and Jonathan said, “A third in the jumping’s much better than a first for bending and far, far better than a second in a silly dressing-up race.”

  “Rocket jumped superly,” said Jean politely to James.

  “Senior Jumping for ponies and horses over 13.2,” called Henry.

  The senior competitors were busy. They had organised themselves a practice jump; none of them wanted to jump first.

  “I’ll go last, Henry,” said Christopher, who was already thinking of the second jump off.

  “Oh, no; not me,” shrieked all the other competitors when Henry tried to get them in.

  At last Donald offered, “I’ll go if you like,” he said. “Anything to get it over.”

  “That is very public-spirited of you,” observed Henry. “If I may offer some advice,” he went on, “don’t try to go fast. You haven’t enough control yet, you’ll get unbalanced. Jump each fence separately, take it slowly and then push on the last few strides. They’re not a bit high.”

  “Thanks,” said Donald, “I’ll do my best, but I’m certain to be eliminated for something,” and he rode into the ring at a trot.

  As Henry had said the fences weren’t high and, riding with great concentration, Donald produced a clear round. He came out of the ring looking more cheerful than he had all day.

  Henry gave the same advice to Nicholas, who also jumped clear. Frolic had several refusals, but only one at each fence; she was still at the stage where she liked to have a good look at what she was jumping, and the major shouted at Judith not to bother about being eliminated, but to go round as it was a good school for a young horse. Margaret jumped a clear round in her usual whirlwind style. Carola had two refusals at the first fence, one at the second and was eliminated and Poppy, who followed, shared exactly the same fate. Crusoe and Tranquil both jumped very polished clear rounds; David took the little gate too fast and brought it down. The last two competitors, Gay and Christopher, both jumped round without faults.

  “Seven clear rounds,” said the judges and began to raise the jumps.

  Donald groaned hopelessly, “We shall soon scatter those,” he said.

  “Go and have a practice jump,” Henry told him, “several holes higher than last time; that’ll get Seafire to look what she’s doing.”

  “Yes, come on,” said Noel. “I’ll alter it for you. Nicholas, you’d better come too and Gay.” The others had all jumped in shows, she thought looking round; they would be able to organise themselves.

  Despite their practice Nicholas and Donald both had the second fence of the double down, but Gay produced another faultless round. Northwind dropped his hindlegs at the triple, Crusoe was clear and so were Christopher and Susan.

  “Four competitors to jump off against the clock,” announced Henry.

  Christopher said, “I’m last.”

  Marion was first in and she jumped a clear round at a good speed without hurrying. Noel was giving Gay instructions not to push Sonnet too much and watching Susan at the same time. Tranquil made a mistake at the double and brought down the second fence, which spoiled an otherwise perfect round. To Noel’s delight Gay was clear, though not in such good time as Marion and then Christopher rode in with a very determined look on his face. He began at a good brisk pace and increased it as he went round the course; he negotiated the first few fences successfully, but it was clear to the knowledgeable spectators that William was flattening and, beginning with the double, he had three straight fences down in quick succession.

  “Marion, Gay, Susan, Christopher,” called Henry, “will you go in for your rosettes, please?”

  “The final event,” he announced while the rosettes were being given out, “is the inter-section relay race. Will you come into the ring in your sections, please?”

  “Bad luck, Christopher,” said Marion as they left the ring with their rosettes. “You were winning easily until the double.”

  “William simply isn’t up to it,” answered Christopher in aggrieved tones. “I shall really have to have a horse next year.”

  The major explained the Relay Race to the section leaders and then they hurried back to organise their sections. They all had the same idea; you sent your most inefficient person first, because they only had to hand over the riding stick once. You kept the fastest person till the end, and a horse which would stand still went as number two, for the major had decreed that the last person had to give up the stick to number two before a section had finished.

  Everyone fussed and argued and said he knew he’d drop it or he just couldn’t stop, and was it best to pass right hand to right hand or left hand to left? until the major became impatient and insisted on lining the members up, two people from each section at each end of the ring. At first the Blue and Black sections led, because they had Carola and Lynne as their number ones. Joy proceeded slowly, as instructed by Susan, Penelope was slow anyway and Martin waved the stick and terrified Mousie so much that he was quite unable to hand it over to Margaret. Margaret shrieked with fury as the other twos galloped away, then it occurred to Donald to dismount and grab the stick from Martin which he did, but by that time the Greens were nearly a person behind. Gay had brought the Oranges level with the Blues and Blacks, and she passed the stick to Judith. Guy passed to Jonathan and between them they dropped the stick. James and Jean fumbled. Nicholas handed the stick to Sally with great precision and instructions to gallop like mad. Margaret passed to Poppy; Jonathan had mounted now, he galloped in pursuit of the rest. It was David, for the Oranges, who came galloping back in the lead. Christopher was close behind him and then Susan. It didn’t look as though David was going to be able to stop. But David didn’t intend to stop, the Oranges had already agreed on a galloping finish. Gay waited with outstretched arm for the stick. He held it out, he galloped on and Gay had it, Christopher stopped to hand his over and so did Susan. “Oh goodness,” she said with delight, “we’re third.”

  Margaret said, “That beastly Mousie, I could kill her.”

  “Now, now, now,” said Nicholas. And Donald told her, “Think of our characters.”

  Jonathan said, “I’m darned sorry, Marion. I was just a dope.”

  “It was just as much my fault,” Guy pointed out.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Marion.

  “It’s the sort of thing I always do,” said Lynne.

  “Orange, Blue, Red,” called Henry who had been gathering the results from the judges.

  “They are giving four rosettes,” James told Jean as the Orange section were presented with theirs. “Now Amber will have one and the whole Blue section will be respectable.”

  “The Oranges are respectable now that Judith’s got one,” observed Jean, “and the Reds will be when Joy’s given hers. What about the Greens?”

  James looked round. “Except for Margaret, they’ve all got fourths,” he said
, “they look greener than ever.”

  “Thanks tons,” said Jean who was being handed a rosette.

  “Thank you very much,” said James. “Jean,” he went on when the judges were presenting yellow rosettes to the Reds, “your sister’s done the best of everyone, better than Christopher,” he added in a whisper.

  “She’s only got four,” said Jean, “lots of people have got four.”

  “Only Gay and Christopher and us and our silly highly commendeds don’t count.”

  “David’s done well,” said Jean, “he’s got two firsts.”

  “Ponies away in the lines, please,” shouted the major, as the winning sections cantered round the ring, the Reds’ effort rather spoiled by Joy joining the Oranges at a gallop.

  “Oh dear, now the gymkhana’s over,” grumbled Penelope. “There’s hardly any of camp left.”

  “Don’t remind us,” said Jean.

  “Water and then fill your haynets,” said Henry in an effort to move the members towards the lines. Noel was telling Jonathan and Sally off for racing their ponies up and down when they had been working all day and were tired.

  Some of the parents began to say good-bye and a father was making a speech thanking the major and the camp staff for all they had done, to which a few parents and Miss Sinclair were listening. Parents who had Sunday suppers to cook drove away quite soon but the others like Mrs. Minton were unloading biscuits and cakes and sweets for their children and collecting shirts and pullovers which they had decided needed washing. There were still mothers flitting in and out of the girls’ tents when the ponies were hayed up and the members were washing and changing into jeans for supper.

  Henry and Noel met on the way to the barn. “It seems to have gone off quite well,” said Noel, “at least all the mammas I’ve met seem pleased.”

  “Have you any energy left though?” asked Henry. “The day’s work is not yet over. My very beloved Uncle George has decided that we shall all go wooding after supper!”

  “Wooding?” asked Noel.

  “Yes, for tomorrow’s bonfire. There’s a mountain of stuff there already, but Uncle G. has thought of a further source of supply. We’re to take the Land Rover to Holly Copse, and from what I hear it’s not a matter of sticks or twigs, but whacking great logs.”