As he crossed the arena on the diagonal, he lifted the rein and touched her mouth ever so gently. Moxie slowed and tucked her nose just a fraction, giving in to the pressure, and then Essie saw her balance herself into the next corner, where he asked her to canter. She bounded forwards, covering metres in seconds.
Essie crossed her arms, hugging herself, watching Moxie go around, exactly like she was meant to. Exactly like, Essie realised, the German riding ponies in the images that Steven had sent, the ones that she had looked at and thought she could never ride.
Nick let Moxie go, just getting her to go forwards and stretch out her body, getting used to someone on her back again. “Just letting her find her feet.” He laughed as he cantered past again, and then, as he got halfway down the long side again, Essie saw him drop his weight down and with a slight finger tightening on the rein, Moxie slowed to a trot. He let her go for half an arena more before bringing her back to walk and turning her back to Essie on the mounting block. He was smiling as he came towards her. “What do you think?” he asked.
Without editing herself, Essie said the two thoughts that were rolling around in her mind together, fighting. “She’s amazing,” she said honestly. “I’ll never be able to ride her,” she added, just as honestly. This was a pony from a whole new level.
Putting both reins in one hand and dismounting in one fluid motion, Nick turned to her and said, “Tomorrow, Essie, maybe the next day. Trust me, you are going to ride this horse and you are going to love it.”
Looking him straight in the eye, Essie said, “No, no, I’m not.”
“Okay,” said Nick, shrugging his shoulders, “but if you don’t mind, I will, because she is beautiful to ride. Plus, she’s super smart and she deserves to be ridden.”
“I can’t,” said Essie, not even sure exactly what she meant.
Putting one hand on her shoulder, Nick passed her the reins and asked, “Who told you that you can’t?”
Feeling herself close to tears, Essie looked at the ground, trying to avoid the question, but he pushed her again. “Essie, who told you that you can’t?”
Lifting her head and looking him in the eye, Essie said, “I did.”
Smiling at her like he knew exactly what she meant, he simply said, “Ah, then that’s easy fixed. All you need to do is tell yourself you can. Hose her off, she’s earnt it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that, he walked away, looking at his phone even as he called out to the next lady, “Hey Claire, nice to see you again. How’s Atticus been going?”
For a moment Essie stood at the mounting block looking at Moxie, the little mare puffing, but happy and relaxed. Essie felt like bursting into tears. Suddenly Moxie felt so far away from her. Here was a pony that an hour ago she’d been so proud of saving. Now Essie knew she was a pony who could be – should be, and had been – in professional stables, not a carport pony, one that Essie knew she couldn’t ride, not the way she deserved to be ridden.
Moxie, reaching her nose gently forwards, snapped Essie back to the present. Looking around, she realised the next lesson was starting. Francesca stood waiting at the gate, a huge smile on her face. Essie thought of the money this was costing her mum, the work time she’d given up to be here. And then, putting a smile on her face, she turned her pony, who stayed politely back from her shoulder, and walked to the gate.
I’m just going to check Moxie one last time,” Essie whispered to Francesca, who was chatting with the others around the fire. Essie was surprised to be the only kid at the clinic, not that she cared. She wanted nothing more than to check her pony then crawl into the comforting, familiar space of Van-essa and go to sleep.
She had spent the entire day watching the other lessons, slowly picking up the exercises that Nick put each horse through. Moxie was one of only two horses he’d ridden, the others going through the in-hand exercises; he had said he’d ride them tomorrow.
There was no one in the stables as Essie entered. It was dark, but the night lights gave off just enough glow to help her find her way. Pausing in the doorway, she listened to the sounds of the horses, turning around in their bedding, chewing or snorting. A great sense of calm came from them all.
A few heads appeared over stable doors as Essie walked to Moxie’s box, second from the end of the row of eight. Moxie, recognising her footsteps, gave a soft nicker. Essie looked over the door to see her ears forward, hind leg rested, watching for her.
Stepping into the stable, Essie checked her water before walking over and placing a hand under her rug. “Not too hot, girl?” she asked. Moxie looked so tired. “You look like I’m going to look after my first day back at school,” Essie whispered. “You did so well today, Mox. I was proud of you. To be honest,” Essie paused, “you freaked me out a bit because you’re so talented.” Kissing her on the neck, an apology of sorts, Essie walked to the corner of the stable where, not quite ready to leave her, she slid down the wall and settled in to watch her.
Surrounded by the sounds and smells of horses, Essie finally listened to the voice that kept telling her she didn’t want to ride. There, in the quiet, she asked herself why. Are you afraid? No, it wasn’t that and even if it was, she’d seen Nick work with enough horses today to believe he’d know when the time was right. Do you want to ride? she asked herself, and finally she heard a quiet yes. Then why are you deciding you won’t? Essie could feel the answer hovering there, but before she could force herself to look at it, she heard voices coming up the line of stables. Thinking how odd she’d look squatting there in the corner, she stood, brushing herself off.
She heard one of the people say, “I’m sure that girl with the palomino was the one busted at pony club champs a couple of years ago, the one whose pony had the positive swab.”
Essie felt sick. She hadn’t even thought about that happening.
“Are you sure?” came another voice in the dark.
“Think so,” came the reply. “I’ll have a look online tonight.”
Essie felt the shame as fresh as the day it had happened. She ducked back down behind the stable wall.
“Nice horse she’s got though,” one of them said.
“Yeah, I thought she’d given up riding for good. That’s what I heard, anyway.”
Their voices grew faint as they left the building, but as they went, Essie heard the other woman suddenly say, “Oh, I know the kid you mean; she was the one with the super competitive dad, right?”
“That’s the one,” the other said, then they faded out of earshot.
Essie realised her hands were trembling. As soon as she was sure they were gone, she kissed her pony one last time, saying quietly, “I thought people would have forgotten by now, Mox.” Then, pulling the door closed, she started walking slowly back to the campsite, her shoulders down. Over two years gone and still people remembered. She paused on the path, looking up at the stars, and from somewhere overhead came the call of a mopoke. “Nice to hear you, mate,” she thought gently, “but I know even you can’t undo the past.” She realised her reasons for not riding didn’t even matter. The fact that people were talking was enough.
“Everything all right with Mox?” Francesca asked, tucked up in bed, looking at something on her laptop.
“Yes, fine,” said Essie. “She’s tired though.”
“Didn’t she do a great job today?” Francesca said. “Nick was amazing.”
“Yeah, they both were,” Essie said, stretching out on her side of the bed. She didn’t want to talk about it, but she also didn’t want Francesca to know anything was wrong.
“Are you looking forward to riding her tomorrow?” Francesca asked.
“Yeah, sure,” said Essie, because it was easier than admitting she wasn’t going to.
“You don’t sound sure,” Francesca said.
“Oh,” said Essie, “she’s a bit different to Chet, that’s all. But I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Nick wouldn’t put you on her if he wasn’t sure it would be good, Essie,” France
sca said.
“Mum,” said Essie into the dark. “What if I don’t want to ride any more?”
“If you don’t want to ride any more, darling, then you don’t want to ride any more. That’s absolutely fine. We can be here just to find out about Moxie, and to make sure she’s good to handle and ride. That’s important if we need to find her a new home, and it wouldn’t be fair to hang onto her and not ride her.”
“I know,” said Essie. Moxie was no old paddock pony. Pausing, she said, “Dad would change his mind about Moxie if he saw her today.” Essie sighed.
“Maybe,” said Francesca, “but she’s your pony, Essie, and you decide what happens with her. No one else’s opinion matters. Well, except maybe Nick’s.”
Essie didn’t tell her what she’d overheard in the stable. She’d just tell Essie not to worry about what people said. But they weren’t talking about her, Essie thought with a sigh. Essie had thought that if Steven wasn’t with her doing horse stuff, people wouldn’t put two and two together. But they had, and they did and, Essie thought, they always would.
Closing down her computer and tucking it between the front seats, Francesca said, “Night, Ess.”
“Night,” Essie replied, suddenly wishing she had told her mum everything – about her nerves, the women, Steven, all of it. It seemed impossible to separate it anyway, and the snug dark van felt like the safest place in the world to say it.
Out of the dark, Francesca said, “You know, Ess, the past is done and gone. If you don’t like the story you keep hearing, it’s up to you to write a new one. Remember the first night we sat on the lounge in the garage with Moxie, whose name we didn’t know, and you asked me if I thought she was going to be all right? And I said yes, I was sure she would, because she had come to us for a reason? If you decide that reason was just so you knew you really didn’t want any more horses, then there’s the end of the story, and as a bonus we saved Moxie from the dog man. But there are other possible endings, Essie, and you can choose which one to grab onto because that will mean a new start too. Sometimes the scariest part is just trying to reach for what you want.”
“I know,” said Essie into the quiet, trying to imagine what a future with Moxie would look like. Eventually she drifted off to sleep only to dream that she was in a stable with Moxie, lions circling outside, their jaws hanging open and saliva dripping from their mouths. She couldn’t get the top door on the stable shut, and all that stood between Moxie and the lions was Essie and the manure shovel, which she held above her head, ready to fight an impossible fight.
She woke in a sweat, daylight just visible through the little windows in the van’s back doors. Sliding down the length of her bed, she pulled her boots on and went to check Moxie.
At the sight of the golden face looking over the stable door Essie’s bad dream evaporated. Moxie’s mane and tail were full of shavings from where she had lain down.
“You’ve made some work for me, Mox,” Essie said opening the stable door and filling the mare’s hay net. “Well, at least one of us will have time for breakfast,” she mumbled as she grabbed her grooming gear and set to work.
“First up again today, Moxie?” said Nick, rubbing her around the head. “Essie, remember, to stand front on to your horse is to invite them in, isn’t it, Mox?” Reaching out, he took the lead from Essie and walked Moxie away, towards the back of the arena. Moxie, focused on him, breaking into a slow trot, keeping a consistent distance from him. Then, pulling up, he started working her through the same exercises as the day before, but this time, rather than resisting, Moxie settled in quickly. Essie ignored the urge to grab the lead and say, “Show me how to do that.”
“She’s great this morning,” Nick called, saying to Francesca, “I hope you’re getting this on video.” Bringing Moxie to a steady halt, he walked her back over to the rail and proceeded to saddle her. Moxie stood alert, but still. Essie wanted to step in and hold her, but Nick didn’t look for her and didn’t seem to need anyone’s help. Bridle on, he walked her to the mounting block, and after rubbing her across the back and checking her girth, he hopped on. Moxie just stood, waiting, until he asked her to move off.
“They’re fun when they’re this smart,” he told Essie as he walked past her. “Got your riding hat?” he asked. Essie shook her head. Nick said nothing in reply, just walked another half an arena length then pushed Moxie into trot.
“Do you want me to grab your hat, Essie?” Francesca asked. Without turning to look at her mum, Essie shook her head, pretending she couldn’t drag her eyes away from Moxie. She didn’t want Francesca to see her trying not to cry. She wouldn’t have been able to explain why.
As she watched her beautiful mare, trotting around on springs, popping into a canter like she’d been ridden every day for a month, not shying, not spooking, so happy to be doing what she was bred to do, she realised that she was crying because she was so angry at Steven for ruining this for her, and, for not being here. She could feel the shadow of him like he was there in the arena, hovering between her and Moxie. Suddenly Essie was swamped with emotion, a feeling so big that she thought she’d have to bury her head in her hands, and she admitted to herself that she missed him.
Aiden was right: there wasn’t a horse memory she didn’t have without her dad in it. And then all the good horse memories that had been hiding behind her anger, the ones she had refused to see, came flooding in.
In every memory of Chet, her dad was always there. Instead of the times he’d been awful, she made herself remember all the times he hadn’t been. Learning how to plait with her, wiping her boots before she went in the ring, standing for hours in the rain and the wind, staying up all night with her when Chet was sick, shutting the ramp on the float a million times, never saying he wanted a weekend off from horses and horse people, driving her everywhere with the float.
Essie realised it wasn’t just that she was angry at him; it was also that riding wasn’t the same because she was so used to having him be a part of it. She missed her dad. Not Germany Dad, not Career Dad, but ice-cream on the way home from competitions Dad. Dad without Caroline, the things that were just her and Dad, which had been the horses. And here she was with a horse, a better pony than she’d ever had before or ever thought she would have, and she realised she didn’t know how to do horses without him. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Essie wiped her eyes with a shaking hand and made herself turn and watch Nick and Moxie. She had to stop the train of memories that were derailing her. Nick turned Moxie early, before the corner and, applying his lower leg, asked her to move back to the wall. Without a moment’s loss of rhythm, tucking her head in to better balance herself, she did a smooth leg yield across, reaching the side wall where just before the corner he popped her into a canter that was so powerful and rocking, Essie could feel her body swaying, imagining what it would feel like. As he came past Nick asked her again, “Hat?” but Essie shook her head, and Nick just kept riding. Essie knew he wouldn’t ask again. She didn’t know if she was disappointed or relieved.
“Are you having a ride, Essie?” Francesca called. Essie shook her head and said “No, not today.” Then she walked out to the centre of the arena to sit on the mounting block, where no one could see her tears as she watched the most beautiful pony she had ever seen dancing around the arena, looking so natural and happy it was easy to imagine she’d have done so even without a rider on her back. “Dad,” Essie heard herself say, “you’d have loved her.”
Essie walked back down the path to the kitchen building. She had just led a calm and happy Moxie down to the outdoor yards, without a mishap; it was her first and best birthday present.
Her next lesson with Nick had been put back until first go after lunch so the people who were leaving today could have the early lessons and get on the road. Essie adjusted the earpiece for the phone, trying to make it comfortable. Francesca had insisted she take it so she could answer birthday calls and have her hands free for Moxie.
&nbs
p; “You won’t want to miss your dad when he calls,” she’d said.
“If he remembers,” Essie said to herself as she reached the stone building where Francesca was waiting with lunch.
As the door shut behind her, Essie heard a chorus of voices sing out “Surprise!” There, standing around the table, which held a great big cake decorated like a very wonky looking palomino, were Connie and Percy, Doddsy, Joshy, Pete and Aiden and, standing back a little from the group, Rob.
Essie was genuinely surprised. She’d never suspected, and never would have expected them all to travel so far.
“Happy birthday, Essie,” said Connie, giving her a hug despite Essie warning her she was all horsey. And then it was one hug after another, except for Aiden and Rob, who stood holding presents at chest height, as if to protect them.
“Here, happy birthday, Essie,” said Rob, handing her a wonky-shaped parcel.
“Thank you, Rob, you shouldn’t have,” Essie said, meaning it.
“Ah, I think you’ll agree someone needed to.” He smiled as Essie pulled the paper off to reveal a new black halter, and Essie laughed, because he was right, somebody really did need to. “Oh! Thank you, Rob,” she said, genuinely touched. “You can have yours back now.” She smiled at him.
“Us next,” said Aiden, passing her a sharply wrapped present, every corner crisp. Reading the card first, she carefully peeled the tape off, saving the paper. Inside was a beautiful photo of Moxie, head up, sunlight shining through her mane.
“Thank you,” she said, “it’s beautiful. You’re so clever, Aido.” She smiled at him. “You can have your camera back, by the way. Did you bring it today?”
“I’ve got it in the car,” Doddsy said with a chuckle.
“Us now,” said Percy. He reached out and took Connie’s hand as she passed Essie a large white envelope. Reaching in, Essie pulled out two sheets of paper covered in photos. For a moment she couldn’t make out what they were, and then her eyes filled with tears. The old apple shed now had a tie-up rail and a little tack area, with two bridle hooks and a bright red saddle rack. “And some tubs for brushes and things,” said Connie.
The Pony Question Page 16