by Kate Lattey
When I sit down and think about actually riding into that huge arena, I become overwhelmed and terrified, but I keep reminding myself that we have to get through the first round first, and only one rider in the team can afford to make a mess of it. Fortunately for me, our other team members are Anneke, Savannah Jenkins and Ellie Warren, who are all highly experienced and talented riders. They all rode at Cambridge this year, and they all rode in the Pony Club Team at HOY last year too. I’m the only one who hasn’t ever ridden for a team before, and there are still a few people who don’t want to let me forget it.
We arrive on Tuesday afternoon, and as I saddle Finn for my first class on Wednesday morning, I’m still hardly able to believe that I’m really here, and really about to compete. But the bright pink competitor’s wristband peeking out from under my show jacket is evidence that I am here, and I have made it. My hands are shaking as I tighten Finn’s throatlatch, and the small amount of food that I’ve managed to force into my stomach for breakfast is sitting there like a lump of coal.
“All set?” Alec asks as he comes down the ramp of the truck, barefoot in shorts and munching on a piece of toast. He’s not riding in this early class, instead waiting for the bigger ones later in the day, but I want my first course to be an easy, straightforward one, so I’ve entered Finn in a low equitation event as an eye opener.
“Yeah,” I croak, trying to speak past the dryness in my throat.
“Just relax, and ride like you have been at home lately,” Alec says reassuringly. “You’ll be sweet as.”
I try to smile, but turn away. Just relax. Yeah right. I tighten Finn’s girth another hole and she pins her ears at me, giving her tail a warning swish. I run a hand down her sleek neck, trying to calm myself down. It doesn’t work.
Alec jumps off the ramp and gives me a leg up into the saddle, and I pick up my reins and take a deep breath. Here we go.
The warm-up arena is full, although only half of the people schooling their horses are dressed to compete. I’m trotting Finn around, wishing I could loosen her up on a long rein like I do at home, but she’s too excited by the busy show atmosphere and I’m forced to keep her collected. She’s straining against me and fraying my nerves even further when a big grey horse canters past, then circles back and drops to a trot alongside us.
Abby grins down at me as Finn nickers a greeting to Zoe, and I smile back.
“Little firecracker. She looks busy,” Abby says, meaning Finn.
I nod. “She’s so excited.”
“What’s your first class?”
“Equitation. It’s only ninety centimetres, but I thought it would be a good easy start to the competition.”
“Good thinking, Batman,” Abby approves. She looks over at her mum, who is waving at her from one of the bigger rings. “That’s me. Keep her moving, and keep her thinking. No more circles, she needs transitions, loops, serpentines. The muscles are moving, now get the brain into gear. Good luck!” she adds as she sends Zoe towards the ring, covering the ground easily with her big, free-moving trot.
Finn whinnies after her friend, and I give her a quick pat before I start doing as Abby told me, getting Finn’s mind engaged on the task at hand.
“She’s a thinker,” Abby had told me on my first day at her place. “Like Chuck, she always wants to have a job to do. Other ponies are happy to slop around on the buckle, to warm up with a canter each way and a couple of jumps, then go into the ring, but this pony needs to have her mind worked in, not just her muscles. That’s your job, and you can’t afford to slack off.”
I take my job seriously, and twenty minutes later, Finn is no longer jigging and distracted, but feels supple, willing and obedient as we canter around the corner towards the first fence on the course. I know that an Equitation class is judged on the rider’s style, but with over eighty competitors, I’m not expecting to win anything today. The aim is simply to jump a tidy clear round, and get Finn used to the big time atmosphere.
As we enter the ring, Finn tenses up, spooking at the bunting on the edges of the ring, and eyeing the sponsor’s display boards with great suspicion, but as soon as we start jumping she focuses on her job, and I can relax a little and focus on mine. The fences are low enough that I have no qualms about getting over them, and it’s not until we are cantering down to the last fence that I start to think that maybe I have a chance. Our round has been foot perfect so far, but I make the fatal mistake of getting ahead of myself, letting my concentration lapse as we approach the wide triple bar. Without me paying enough attention, Finn speeds up, sees a long spot, and jumps early, taking me by surprise. I slip the reins through my fingers, giving her as much room to stretch herself over the jump as possible, rueing my stupidity as I do. That will surely cost us a callback, I think to myself, and as Finn’s hind feet hit the back rail and send it tumbling to the ground, I confirm that to myself.
I shake my head ruefully and pat my pony as we canter through the finish flags. A rail down in our easiest class – not the way I wanted to start this week. I’m furious with myself, but as I walk Finn back to the truck, I tell myself that the first rail was also the last one we’re going to have down.
I should be used to being wrong. As the week goes on, my luck goes from bad to worse, and I can’t seem to jump a clear round at any height. I don’t have any refusals – though a couple of near misses – but the rails just keep tumbling down. It’s incredibly frustrating, and as the Pony Club Teams Championship looms, I’m starting to get really nervous.
“Quit with your worrying, you’re making it worse,” Alec tells me on Thursday afternoon as I nervously tack Finn up for her last class before the Teams event starts tomorrow morning. “Just take it one fence at a time.”
“Easy for you to say,” I retort, trying not to notice the ribbons he has already accumulated hanging up in the truck.
I clip up my helmet, buckle my spurs and accept a leg up from Tabby before heading towards the warm up arena, trying to suppress my anxiety. I desperately want to do well and prove myself, but the worse I ride, the more nervous I get, and I’m just about beside myself now. Alec walks alongside me, jandals slapping against the hard ground, waving and chatting to people as we pass them, and I try to relax and breathe.
You’re riding your own pony, at the Horse of the Year Show. I should be amazed, thankful, stupefied that I have this opportunity. I push my mind back to the days when having my own pony was a pipe dream, when competing in registered classes was a distant possibility, when Finn was skinny and bedraggled and I could barely stay on her. I look down at Alec as he walks alongside us, his auburn hair flickering with orange in the bright sun, the back of his neck burnt red and the collar of his rugby shirt frayed and scruffy.
“Remember when I kept falling off Finn every time I rode her?”
He grins up at me. “Like it was yesterday. Oh wait, it was yesterday!”
“Shut up.” I slide my left foot out of my stirrup and kick him in the arm. “That wasn’t a fall, it was an ungraceful dismount.”
Disappointed and distracted when I’d returned to the truck yesterday afternoon after a soft rail in the metre-ten, I hadn’t been prepared for Finn to step sideways as I was dismounting, and she’d knocked me over when I landed, resulting in an ungraceful sprawl on the ground. Which of course Alec had seen.
“Call it whatever you want, you still landed on your butt,” he laughs, and I kick out at him again.
This time he sidesteps, leaving my leg flailing in the air, and I have to grab at Finn’s short mane to keep from losing my balance. She shakes her head in annoyance, and I slide my foot back into my stirrup apologetically.
“Incoming,” Alec mutters, the humour gone from his voice, and I look up to see Eleanor marching towards us, with Carly riding alongside on her chestnut pony.
Her pony is as cute as ever, his bright eyes and pricked ears picture perfect, but Carly is a sight for sore eyes. She’s kitted out in the most expensive show jumping apparel availab
le, presumably in an effort to make her appear professional, but it’s only serving to make her look ridiculous. Her deep burgundy show jumping jacket is at least two sizes too small, and her thick legs are tightly encased in white designer breeches, the expensive kind that only look fantastic on people like Abby, who have long slim legs that wrap effortlessly around their horses.
I try to ignore the sight of her ahead of me as we walk the course, focusing on pacing out the combinations, walking the bending lines, working out the distances and where I can cut corners to save time, deciding where I can ride forward, and where I’ll have to check Finn and make her wait. I walk the course twice, just to be sure, then head back to where Alec is holding Finn. Her head is up and ears are pricked, but her reins are loose in his hands as he chats to another rider, and she seems relatively calm in his presence. I glimpse a short row of port-a-loos out of the corner of my eye, and catch Alec’s attention with a quick wave and a gesture towards them. He pulls a face and nods, continuing on his conversation as I stride quickly over to the plastic stalls, scrunching up my nose at the inevitable smell after a few days in the hot Hawke’s Bay sun, and start searching for a vacancy sign.
They’re all being used, and I shift my weight from one foot to the next while I wait impatiently. Hooves clop on the sealed track behind me, and I feel a rap on my head. Turning, I squint up at Anneke as she rides Nonny past on a loose rein.
“There’s one around the back of the yards, just over there,” she tells me, gesturing with her short whip. “You might have better luck, and it’s not nearly as gross as these ones.”
I thank her and scurry off in the direction she pointed, sweat beginning to trail down my back. Unfortunately my timing must be off, because the loo is also engaged. I shrug out of my jacket and sling it over my arm while I wait, trying to catch a breeze on my bare arms and wondering whether I really need to go or if I’m just doing this in order to delay having to get on my pony and fail once more.
I’m trying to convince myself that this time is going to be different when I hear a strange sound coming from the port-a-loo. Taking a step closer, I recognise it, and cringe. Guess I’m not the only one battling nerves, I think as I hear the person retching once more. What a place to be throwing up though. Gross.
There’s no way now that I’m using this loo, and I decide to give it up as a bad idea. I turn back towards Alec, who’s now leaning against Finn with his arm across her withers, chatting to Anneke. She reaches down from Nonny’s back to scuff Alec’s hair with the palm of her hand, and he grins up at her, and my stomach does this weird swishing thing that I can’t explain.
Nerves, I tell myself. Get over it.
I take a breath and am about to take a step towards them when the port-a-loo door opens, and Carly steps out. She meets my eyes for a second, looking startled and a little guilty. Then her face closes over again, and she swipes her mouth with the back of her hand and pushes past me, walking fast. I watch her walk over to Eleanor and the cute chestnut pony, who swishes his tail and stamps as Carly gets legged up into the saddle, laying his ears back against his neck.
“Are you waiting?”
I turn to see a middle-aged woman standing behind me, motioning towards the port-a-loo. I shake my head. “All yours.”
“Took you long enough,” Alec teases me as he hands Finn over.
“Carly’s fault,” I reply. “Does she always spew when she gets nervous? That’s the second time I’ve caught her doing it.”
Anneke frowns, and glances at Carly as she trots past, hands heavy on the reins, weight solid in the saddle. “She chucked again? Mum said she was at it behind the trucks this morning. Reckoned she had a stomach bug or something.”
Alec legs me into Finn’s saddle and I pick up my reins.
“She was spewing in the toilets at camp,” I tell them both. “Said it was food poisoning.”
“Must have a weak stomach or something,” Alec shrugs, but Anneke and I meet each other’s eyes and I know that we’re both wondering the same thing.
I look back over at Carly, trotting around the warm-up area in her too-tight jacket with her eyes fixed forward as Eleanor barks instructions at her, and I know for sure now that I’d never switch places with her. Not for a million dollars, not in a million years. She can keep her expensive horses and flash facilities, if it means being under that much pressure, and I feel a jolt of sympathy for her as I think back to the way the boys treated her at camp. The way we all treated her, I remind myself, and I resolve to be nicer to her in future.
“Jay!” Alec’s voice jolts me out of my reverie. “Hurry up and get moving, they just called you and you’re only six away!”
“An unfortunate four faults at the last fence for That’s Final and Jay Evans,” the announcer says a few minutes later. I pat Finn’s neck ruefully as we canter through the finish flags. We’d been going so well until some kid in the stands dropped their icecream and pitched a fit, spooking Finn and unbalancing her on the turn. I console myself with the fact that she attempted the jump instead of stopping and throwing me off over her shoulder as she would’ve a few months ago, but it doesn’t make the disappointment any less. Carly rides into the ring as I come out, and I smile at her as we pass.
“Good luck,” I wish her, but she ignores me completely, brushing past Finn and spurring her chestnut pony into his bounding canter.
“The next combination into the ring is 629, Solid Gold ridden by Carlotta Dean,” the announcer informs people as I jog Finn through the gate and head back out into the open space next to the warm-up arenas. Alec is standing next to Anneke, leaning against Nonny now, still smiling up at her. And she’s laughing, her long legs dangling against her black pony’s sleek sides, looking at Alec as though he’s saying something incredibly interesting. For a moment, I consider riding straight past them, since they seem to be so deep in conversation, but that would just seem petty, so I bring Finn to a halt next to Nonny and let out a sigh.
Anneke looks at me first. “How’d you go?”
Alec’s face is equally curious, and I’m suddenly mad at him for standing around flirting with my friend instead of walking the twenty metres it would’ve taken to get from here to the ring to watch me ride. Some friend you are, I think as I shrug, trying to seem casual and not horribly disappointed.
“Rail down at the last. She spooked at the stands.”
“Bummer,” Alec commiserates, but Anneke actually looks pleased.
“That’s good though! I mean, not that you had a rail, but it was just one, and that’s a tough course. Speaking of which,” she adds, looking around as though she’s only just remembered where she is, “I’m only one behind Hayley, and she’s going into the warm-up now, so I’d better get my A into G. C’mon Nonners.”
She clucks to her pony and rides away as Alec gives Finn’s forehead a quick rub. I’m about to tell him more about my round, that he should’ve seen the leap she put in over the wall, and how she saved my butt coming down to the double, but he’s still watching Anneke.
“I’d better go, she wants me to do the practice fence for her,” he says before I get a chance to talk, and then he’s gone, striding away through the clouds of dust.
I sigh. “Come on you,” I tell Finn, nudging her into a walk. “Let’s get you put away.”
I’m still distracted with thoughts of my round when it happens. Still thinking about what went wrong, and trying to focus on what went right, desperate to harness those successful moments so I can use them again tomorrow when I’m riding for a team that I probably shouldn’t even be in, trying my best not to be a total disaster. A tall black horse canters close past us and Finn glares at it, ears swivelling backwards in displeasure. Her hindquarters twitch, and I know she’s feeling stressed out with all the horses crowding around her. Suddenly there are hoofbeats coming up fast behind us, and before I can do anything, Finn throws her head up and squeals, then lashes out furiously with a hind leg. I feel it connect, I hear someone scream, and
I’m grabbing Finn’s reins up and bringing my raging pony back under control as I see Eleanor running towards me, yelling obscenities as she approaches.
I turn to see Carly doubled-over on her pony’s neck, as white as a sheet and gasping for air. Her pony jogs nervously and she yanks hard on his reins, trying to make him stop. The girl on the black horse yells at her not to do that to her pony’s mouth and Carly howls back at her as everyone in the vicinity stops and stares. I pivot Finn around, barely avoiding a kid zooming past on a bicycle, and she snatches at the bit furiously, her hindquarters still bunched underneath her, eyes rolling furiously.
Eleanor is by her niece’s side now, and Carly is grabbing at her aunt’s arm, moaning about her ankle. Someone has grabbed her pony’s bridle and is holding him steady, and the pony stands frozen, his shapely ears swivelling back and forth nervously as she wails on his back.
“Ambos are coming. Just keep her still,” someone tells Eleanor, who snaps back at them.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” She turns to her howling niece. “Would you calm down and stop making a scene?” she hisses angrily, then turns towards me.
“Get that bloody pony out of here before it kicks someone else. It shouldn’t be allowed on the grounds, it’s that dangerous. I’ll be reporting this, don’t you worry. Go on, clear off, you’ve done enough damage!”
I find out that evening that Carly has a fractured ankle, which means the show is over for her. I feel bad for her, but more anxious for myself. Eleanor is now telling anyone she sees that my pony is a menace and should be kicked out for dangerous behaviour. Fortunately, when the show’s stewards arrive as we’re eating dinner, they just tell me that I have to tie a red ribbon in Finn’s tail from now on as a warning.
“See? Told you it would be fine, so you can stop stressing,” Alec tells me as we sit back down with our meals. “It was Carly’s dumbass fault for riding up Finn’s butt, so let her pay the price and maybe she’ll learn next time not to use other people’s ponies as barricades when she loses control of her own.”