by Kate Lattey
UGH my stupid mother bought me a new pony >:( I told her Im not riding it!!
I shake my head ruefully, mystified. I guess her mum took my advice to heart after all, and sprung a new pony on Tegan while her back was turned. Did she not realise that I was joking, that this was the worst possible way to do it? Doesn’t she understand her daughter at all? I feel slightly guilty as I text Tegan back, hoping that her mother hasn’t mentioned my influence.
No way! Whats it like? colour age height? Whats it done?
Tegan’s reply comes quickly.
Dont know dont care I told mum 2 send him back.
I roll my eyes, wanting to tell her not to be such a brat. If someone had bought me another pony, I would be bouncing off the walls with excitement right about now. And with her mother’s competitive spirit and her family’s ample bank balance, it’s certain to be a lovely pony. I wonder where he came from, and whether his former owners have any idea that his new rider doesn’t even want him.
Poor unwanted pony :(
Another typical response from my friend.
Poor Tegan more like!!
CHAPTER FOUR
I convince Tegan to let me come home with her after school the next day and meet the new pony. All I’ve managed to get out of her so far is that his name is Ghost and he’s grey, which is just another mark against him in her book, as she’s well aware of how much hard work it is to keep grey ponies clean.
I’m looking around eagerly as we walk up her driveway, trying to spot the new arrival, but I’m still not prepared when I do finally see Ghost standing in their paddock.
“Is that him?”
“The devil himself.”
Tegan keeps walking, barely glancing at her pony as she passes him by, but I stop and stare. I don’t know what picture I had in my head of him, but it certainly wasn’t this. Ghost is a tall dapple grey with a pink nose and a dark mane and tail. His conformation is beautifully balanced, he has muscle in all the right places and a curious, friendly expression on his face as he watches us. I chirrup softly to him and he walks up to me, his shapely ears pricked forward with interest. He’s absolutely gorgeous, and he fits in perfectly next to her sisters’ refined show ponies. As he gently sniffs the palm of my hand, I realise that he’s also the absolute last pony I’d have chosen for Tegan.
“Does he jump?” I ask her.
“I don’t know. Probably not.”
“Of course he jumps.” We both turn to see Tegan’s sister Lizzie standing behind us with a halter slung over her shoulder. “He’s won at a metre-twenty and is ready to step up to Grand Prix this season.”
“Good for him, I’m sure he’ll have a blast,” Tegan snaps, turning on her heel and stalking off without giving Ghost so much as a backward glance.
Lizzie rolls her eyes. “She’s such a brat. Honestly.” She sighs and gives Ghost a scratch on the neck. “What do you think of him?”
I check over my shoulder to be sure that Tegan’s gone before I respond. “He’s a lovely pony. I’m just not sure he’s Tegan’s type.”
“I told Mum that,” Lizzie agrees as Ghost’s whiskers tickle my neck, and I duck my head to the side, laughing. “But as soon as she saw him, she couldn’t resist. Paid an arm and a leg for him too. He really can jump though,” she assures me. “She’ll really like him, if she ever rides him.”
“I wouldn’t get my hopes up, if I were you,” I reply. “She’s pretty determined to hate him, and you know how hard it can be to change her mind!”
I’m walking up Alec’s driveway later that day when I hear my name being called from the house.
“Jay! C’mere, quick!”
I see Alec in the doorway waving to me, and I hurry towards him. He looks excited, and he doesn’t wait for me to get to him before disappearing back inside. I follow him in and find him with Tabby in the laundry room, watching Magpie squirming on a mat in the corner. Except it isn’t just Magpie who’s squirming…
“She’s having her puppies!” I say excitedly, and Alec nods, while Tabby puts a finger to her lips.
We stand quietly back, watching the collie give birth to six beautiful little black and white pups. Tabby is ready to assist if required, but Magpie is a good mother and all of the puppies are born trouble-free. We watch as she cleans them up, and smile as they go in search of milk. Although some are swifter to find sustenance than others, soon five puppies are sucking away happily. But one pup is facing the wrong direction and making agitated noises. I reach over and gently turn the puppy around, showing him the way to the milk. The pup latches on quickly and sucks with great enthusiasm.
“Good job, old girl,” Alec says, gently patting Magpie, who lifts her tail and drops it to the floor again in an exhausted wag.
“They all look pretty good,” Tabby says. “This one’s the runt, but it’s not too small, it’ll probably catch up to the others quickly.” She looks at Alec. “You’ll have to decide pretty soon which one you want.”
He nods, looking over the puppies intently as Tabby gently checks their sex.
“Four girls, two boys,” Tabby announces.
“I like this one,” I tell them, pointing to the one that I helped, who’s now suckling greedily.
“Trust you to pick the runt,” Alec grins, and I punch his arm.
Tabby runs a finger down the pup’s back. “He’s a male,” she says. “And like I said, he’ll catch up eventually.”
“He’s so cute,” I say as he finishes his meal and curls up to sleep, traces of milk around his mouth. “I love the markings on his face.”
The tiny pup has the traditional border collie markings, with a white muzzle and a stripe that travels up between his eyes. But instead of fading out at that point, the stripe veers off to the side to sit over his left eye, making him look as though he’s raising a quizzical eyebrow.
Alec looks at Tabby. “Sounds like someone wants a puppy.”
“I’d love one!” I say. “Are they for sale? I’d have to ask my dad.”
Tabby gives me a firm look. “You’d have to train him properly,” she tells me. “They’re bred to be working dogs. They’re highly intelligent and very energetic. He’d need a lot of exercise and mental stimulation.”
I nod enthusiastically. “Of course,” I tell them. “He could hang out with Chewy during the day, and then I’d walk him down here all the time and take him for runs up the logging road or down the beach, and he could learn to work sheep with your other pups, too. Alec could help me to train him. It’s perfect!”
“No.”
“But Dad…”
“We don’t need a puppy,” he insists as he shovels pasta into his mouth. “They’re too much work, they chew everything and Chewy’s too old to start sharing his house with another dog.”
“Chewy’d get used to it! He’d like to have a friend, wouldn’t you boy?” I ask Chewy in an excited voice, and he wags his tail enthusiastically at me. “See?”
Dad raises his eyebrows. “If he knew what you were saying, he’d be heading for the hills.”
“He won’t chew anything, I promise.” Dad snorts, but I keep going. “And I’d give him lots of exercise, and you could take him to work with you, like you used to do with Chewy before he got too geriatric,” I continue, but Dad shakes his head.
“No I couldn’t,” he corrects me. “It’s not just Chewy’s creaky hips that are keeping him at home. Now that I’m working for DoC, most of the sites I’m visiting are predator free zones, and we want them to stay that way. I could hardly just bring a dog in there. No, Jay,” he says as I open my mouth again. “We are not getting a puppy. End of discussion.”
“Not even for Christmas?” I ask in a last ditch attempt, but the look on his face quickly silences me.
I sigh and eat my dinner slowly, wondering what will happen to the mischievous-looking puppy, and where he’s going to end up.
* * *
Two weeks later, we pull into the show grounds at Pukete in the early morning. I leap
out of the truck eagerly as Tabby pulls into a shady parking space, and Alec laughs as he follows me out. We drop the ramp onto the dewy grass with a thud, and Finn looks out across the show grounds with her head high, then lets out a piercing whinny as Alec pulls the divider back.
“Settle petal, they know you’re here,” he tells her as I lead my pony down the ramp.
Finn jumps the last part as usual, stares around us with boggling eyes, then dives her head between her knees and starts stuffing her face with lush green grass.
“Hi Jay!”
I turn to see Claudia Trent behind me, standing next to a big white truck with a green cab. “Oh hi! How’re you?”
“Not bad. How’s Finn? She looks good.”
“Thanks. She’s been out injured for a bit, but she’s finally back in work now.” I tie Finn up and smile at Claudia. “New truck?”
“Yeah. Mum splashed out. New pony too, come see,” she says, and I follow her around to the other side of her truck curiously.
Claudia had taken Finn on trial when I’d returned to England in May, and had been dead keen to buy her until her parents had abruptly decided they couldn’t afford her after all. Which had worked out well for me in the end, since I changed my mind and came back for Finn, but now I can’t help wondering how her parents can afford a flash truck like this if they’re so hard up. I tell myself not to be so judgemental, and then I see Claudia’s new pony, and all other thoughts vanish from my mind.
“Jay, meet Titus.”
“Oh, wow.”
I stare at the pony with my mouth half-open. I’d thought Tegan’s new pony was beautiful, but Titus exists on another plane altogether. His black coat gleams in the sunlight, his mane and tail are pulled and groomed to perfection, and his conformation looks like something out of a textbook. He has a narrow stripe down his face and two white socks on his front legs, and I’m utterly consumed with jealousy.
“Oh my God, Claudia. He’s gorgeous! Where on earth did you get him?” How on earth could you afford him? is on the tip of my tongue, but I bite the words back.
“Taupo, from the Riordans. Their daughter Tiffany rode him last season,” she explains, and with a jolt I recognise the pony.
Not that I know Tiffany Riordan, but everyone who follows the Pony Grand Prix circuit knows that she was one of the most successful riders out there last season, on her stunning black pony HK Centurion. Second in the National series. Fourth in Pony of the Year. Until now she was someone to glimpse from a distance, a photo in a magazine, a name on a score sheet. Tiffany still is, but her pony has just turned into flesh and blood right in front of me, and I walk up and stroke his muscular neck with a sense of awe.
“You’re so lucky.”
Claudia smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. Nervous, more like. It’s only my second show on him, and my first Grand Prix. I’m actually freaking out right now.”
“You’ll do fine. I’m sure he’s a pro,” I reassure her, looking longingly at the pony’s broad back, trying to imagine having a pony like this to ride. “And just think, you almost bought Finn instead. Talk about your lucky escape,” I add, trying to lighten the mood.
Claudia looks nostalgic. “Aww, I had so much fun working with her,” she insists. “I’m still a bit sad that we sent her back. Besides, Titus might have the mileage but she’s got all the jump she needs to get her to Grand Prix, and she’s such a quick learner. After having her, I wanted to get a pony to bring on myself, but Titus was on the market and Mum’s the one with the money now, after milking Dad for all he was worth during the divorce. So she wanted and I got. He is cool though.”
“I didn’t know your parents got divorced,” I reply, as things suddenly fall into place. The new truck. The flash pony. The way she’s looking at him like she can’t quite believe that he’s hers. “Sorry to hear that.”
Claudia shrugs. “It sucks, but it was bound to happen eventually. Dad’s buggering off to Aussie next week so I’m stuck with my mum. At least I have Titus, and I can usually guilt trip Mum into buying me things.” Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Anyway, I’m looking forward to seeing Finn out and about today. Good luck!”
Finn warms up well for our first class, and I have a good feeling going into the ring. For once, my instincts are actually right, and although she gets a bit strong at times, she doesn’t fight me too hard, and we canter through the flags with a clear round.
“Good girl!” I tell my pony as I pat her enthusiastically on our way out the gate, grinning from ear to ear. I’m starting to think about the jump-off when my cellphone rings in my pocket and I pull it out, surprised to see Dad on the caller ID.
“Hello?” I greet him with some surprise and not a little concern. He’s never called me during a show before. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, fine.” He sounds relaxed enough, and I take a breath. “Show going well?”
“Um, yep. Just got through to the jump off in my first class,” I tell him proudly, scratching Finn’s neck with my spare hand.
“That’s good,” he replies. “I’m in Hamilton having lunch with Nina, and she wants to come and see you ride. Is that okay with you?”
I pull Finn to a halt, stunned. It’s the first time Dad has shown any interest at all in my riding. I don’t think he’s ever seen me ride at all, to be honest. I wish it had been his idea instead of Nina’s, but at least Finn’s behaving herself today, so we might put up a halfway decent showing.
“Um, sure,” I tell him. “That’d be fine.” What else can I say?
“Okay. See you soon.”
I slide the phone back into my pocket, distractedly watching a dark bay pony refuse at the flowerboxes before I slide off Finn’s back and loosen her girth.
“Hi Jay.”
I turn to see Abby Brooks standing on the other side of Finn, leaning against the fence. Abby is one of New Zealand’s top young riders and has a string of successful horses, but she’s always been very friendly and helpful to me, if only because Finn is related to her top horse, Final Chance. I smile at her, then notice the pair of crutches leaning on the fence next to her.
“Hi! Wait, what happened to you?”
Abby grimaces and holds out her left ankle, encased in plaster. “I was breaking in a youngster and he threw me into a fence.”
“Nasty!”
Abby moves in closer and speaks in a low voice. “Okay, don’t tell anyone, but I actually fell off my old show jumping pony. Took her for a bareback gallop and she spooked at a cow, had me off in a split second and booked it for home. I had to hop all the way back across the farm. But if anyone asks,” she finishes with a wink. “I was breaking in a youngster.”
“Right.” I grin at her, feeling special that she’d share her secret with me.
“It’s a bugger really, but probably serves me right, and I should be sorted in time for Horse of the Year. Anyway, Finn’s looking good. You jumped yet?”
“Yeah, we went clear in the first round,” I tell Abby proudly.
“Nice. What’s the jump-off course?”
I tell her, and she starts giving me advice on how to ride it, where to cut corners and how I can make up time. I can’t help thinking, as she talks, about how generous she is. It’s so nice of her to take the time to help me out, just because she likes my pony and wants to see her do well, and I make a mental note to be as helpful to another young rider some day when I’m at Abby’s level.
We’re still standing there watching the rounds and discussing various ponies when I hear my name being called, and turn to see Dad and Nina walking towards me. Dad doesn’t actually look too out of place in his jeans and a polo shirt, but Nina’s white capris, pale pink blouse and strappy sandals might as well be a sign around her neck saying I know nothing about horses. At least she has the sense not to be wearing heels, I suppose, and I try to make my smile appear genuine as they walk up to us.
“You found me!” I say, trying not to sound too surprised. With there bei
ng zero chance of Dad recognising Finn, the pony he’s only seen a half dozen times, and with me being dressed almost identically to everyone else, I’d expected him to have to ring back to locate me once he arrived.
“We saw Alec, and he told us where you’d be,” Dad explains.
“Right.” Abby’s still there, so I turn and introduce them. “This is Abby, and this is my dad and, um…that’s Nina.” I can’t bring myself to say girlfriend.
Abby is as friendly as ever, and shakes both of their hands cheerfully. “How’s it going? Nice to meet you both. Come to watch the wonder pony jump?”
I flush red as Dad looks confused, and Nina looks weirdly thrilled and pats Finn. My pony butts her head in a friendly way against Nina’s blindingly white trousers, leaving a trail of green saliva across her hip. Traitor, I think bitterly as Nina strokes Finn’s glossy neck, unfazed about the new marks on her clothing.
“Isn’t she just gorgeous?” Nina gushes enthusiastically. “And so shiny. What colour do you call this?”
“Um, chestnut,” I mutter as Dad starts talking to Abby.
“Wonder pony, eh?” He looks a bit sceptical, probably because he knows how often I’ve fallen off Finn. “That’s good to hear. I hope Jay can live up to that.”
He’s smiling, but his words sting. Talking to Claudia this morning has only reminded me that if Finn belonged to her, she’d probably be jumping in the big classes by now. Even last season, when Finn was still green and I’d struggled to get her around a course at ninety centimetres, Claudia had been jumping a metre-thirty on her within days of taking her on trial. I look across at the ring next door, where the jumps are a good twenty centimetres higher, and imagine soaring over them on Finn. Soon, I tell myself.