Overnight, the jumps had grown in Lucy’s imagination to the size and solidity of an Olympic course. It was almost a shock to see, in the drizzling grey dawn, two higgledy-piggledy homemade piles of brush and branch in a boggy field. Still, jumps were jumps.
She didn’t want to ride round the field too much – every hoof-print would show. Hopefully Puzzle would be fairly well warmed up from the hack up the lane anyway. She trotted round the edge, but after Puzzle stumbled once or twice she realised it was too dark in the hedge’s shadow, and took him out to the centre of the field. With luck the rain would wash away their prints.
After his initial surprise, Puzzle caught Lucy’s mood, and when she pushed him into canter he responded eagerly with the toss of his head and the grab for the bit that meant he was in one of the occasional strong moods that Lucy loved. Still, when the canter threatened to become a gallop, Lucy sat down and hauled on the reins in a way she wouldn’t have dared do if Cam or Declan were watching, and turned him for the first jump.
It was a pile of brush, about halfway up the slope. Puzzle didn’t seem over-impressed, scarcely lifting his hooves enough to clear it the first time.
‘Pick up your feet,’ Lucy told him, with a smack from her whip. Maybe she had made it a bit puny. Maybe she should have persuaded Kitty to come after all – having someone to put the jumps up made things easier as well as more fun. Now the jump was scattered and looked just like a pathetic heap of branches. She would have to think of it as a spread, Lucy decided, riding Puzzle in a wide circle.
Next time, he jumped better, really stretching himself to clear the whole thing. They left it behind and circled back down the field and up the other side for the solider and bigger of the jumps. Puzzle cleared this one easily, jumping, in fact, so big that Lucy lost a stirrup, and was reaching for it, half-laughing, when Puzzle lowered his head and galloped flat out to the top of the field. Once she had her balance, Lucy just enjoyed it, the wind whipping tears out of her eyes, mud flying into them. Even the rain misting her face was part of it.
This is magic, she thought, the best feeling in the world – speed and power and your own pony, fit and keen. How can Aidan not want to do this? What is there to be scared of?
Lucy steadied Puzzle at the crest of the hill and crossed the top of the field at a more controlled pace. In her imagination, she was in the competition. Lucy McBride from Rosevale on her own Puzzle turns for the last jump, the treacherous downhill. This is the jump that’s caused so much trouble here today. If Lucy clears this she’s won the day for the Rosevale team, and on her form there doesn’t seem to be anything to worry about. The slope is steeper than she realised, but this is a winning combination …
Afterwards, though she went over it until her mind ached, Lucy was never sure exactly what had happened. One minute Puzzle was cantering down the hill towards the jump, as enthusiastic as she was. He went to take off, seemed to hesitate – or maybe he skidded in the wet grass – corrected himself and threw himself over. Lucy sat still, gave him plenty of rein and waited for his usual smooth landing. But his front legs came down heavily and he pecked, his head nearly touching the ground. Lucy just had time to think, in a surprisingly calm way, I’m coming off, over his head – at least this is a soft landing, when he righted himself with a snort and trotted on.
They’d got away with it! Lucy let Puzzle trot to the bottom of the field, then slowed him to a walk. They were both sweating.
‘Good boy!’ Lucy leant forwards and clasped her hands round his steaming neck. She wouldn’t tempt fate by jumping any more. She leapt off and let Puzzle graze while she got rid of the evidence by dismantling the jumps. As she rolled the last branch under the hedge she was flushed, not just with physical effort, but also with triumph.
She got back to the hustle and activity of Rosevale’s morning routine. Aidan, wearing a huge red anorak though the rain had slackened, was walking across to the near paddock with Ty’s lead rein in one hand and Firefly’s in the other. It was funny, Lucy thought: Aidan couldn’t – or wouldn’t – do what she had just been doing, but she wouldn’t feel happy leading two horses at once. Declan appeared from the barn with a full wheelbarrow. He looked up at the sound of Puzzle’s hooves and frowned.
‘Been out already?’
‘You said he needed more quiet hacking.’ This wasn’t a lie – Declan had said so – so Lucy didn’t know why she felt suddenly so uncomfortable. ‘Plus I’m going to a party this afternoon,’ she went on, as if Declan was the slightest bit interested in her social life.
If Declan hadn’t been there she would have given Puzzle’s legs a good long hosing with cold water – just in case he’d given himself a bit of a twist at that bad landing. But she didn’t want to draw attention to herself, so she just jumped off, led him into his stable and untacked him. He was damp with a mixture of sweat and rain, so she put his fleece cooler on to dry him off and filled his net with haylage. He attacked it greedily, bashing the net against the wall the way he did when he was extra-hungry.
‘I’ll be back to put him out when I’ve had my breakfast,’ Lucy said. She could have stayed and helped – there was always plenty to do – but she was starving. That apple felt like a long time ago.
And maybe she didn’t want to hang around in case someone questioned her more closely about her ride.
Still, whatever happened, it had been brilliant, galloping and jumping like that all on her own. Worth getting up early for.
Unusually, there was nobody about when she went back around eleven. Apart from Puzzle, the horses were all out in the small paddocks near the yard which Declan used for winter turnout, letting the bigger fields rest. Puzzle had dried off nicely, so Lucy threw his outdoor rug on and led him to the gate. Usually when he was turned out in the morning he had a roll and then a dash round, kicking up his heels after the long night in the stable. But today he just had a long drink from the trough, looked round to see his friends and mooched over to them in a lackadaisical way.
Tired with jumping and galloping, thought Lucy. With raking, said that uncomfortable voice – but that was daft. She hadn’t been raking – she’d been practising.
She mucked out quickly, mixed up Puzzle’s evening feed and filled his hay-net. Kitty or Aidan would bring him in later.
Jade’s party was at the ice rink, which normally Lucy loved, but first of all Jade got in a mood because Lucy was a better skater, and then Josh – whose party it was too, of course – and his stupid friends started showing off and picking on Miranda because she kept falling over, and Miranda cried and wanted to go home before the pizza. The Sunnyside girls were all snobs, who kept saying things like, ‘You keep your pony at a sanctuary? With rescue horses? Are you not worried he’ll catch something?’
For the first time she thought, Even if we don’t win the money, it’ll be worth going to the competition just to show ignorant people like this what rescue horses can do.
All in all she’d probably have had more fun at Erin’s granda’s. There was no reception in the ice rink, so it was only when she was waiting on the wall outside for her mum to pick her up that she saw Kitty’s text:
PUZ V V LAME!!!! DAD GONNA GET VET. CUM UP AS SOON AS U CAN!!!!!
Chapter 12
A Change of Pony
GEORGE, the vet, gave his verdict. Strained tendons in the near-fore. Most likely incurred galloping or jumping on soft ground.
Dad frowned at Aidan. ‘How could that be? Cam’s cross-country isn’t particularly soft – not soft enough to cause that kind of injury. And it’s funny it’s just showing up now.’
Aidan shrugged. He was only here to hold the pony.
‘It can happen in the field,’ George said. ‘It’s just one of those things.’
Dad shook his head. ‘He’s turned out on pretty firm ground.’
George clapped Puzzle’s shoulder. ‘Well, Declan, you know the drill as well as I do. Cold water hosing, often as you can manage it, and box rest. Keep him in for a month and
I’ll call back and see him then.’
Declan nodded. ‘No problem. And while you’re here – one of the foals seems to have done something to its eye.’
The men went off across the barn, talking. Aidan thought he might as well start hosing Puzzle’s leg now. The cold water would help the swelling and give the pony some relief from the pain. Puzzle didn’t stand as quietly as Firefly or September. He kept nudging Aidan, hoping for titbits.
‘Spoilt,’ Aidan said. ‘No, don’t eat my zip.’ He gave Puzzle a quick bat on the nose and the pony made a grumpy camel face and put his ears back.
‘What are you doing to my pony?’ It was Lucy, belting up the yard in very fancy clothes, her round face beetroot.
‘Thank you very much, Aidan, for hosing my pony’s sore leg. Oh, you’re welcome, Lucy. No, it’s not my job, but I thought I would do it to help you. Here.’ He flung the hose at her, not minding at all that it splashed her sparkly leggings.
‘Sorry.’ Lucy had the grace to look ashamed. ‘I was just so worried. What’s he done?’
‘George is still here.’ Aidan indicated the vet, walking towards his Range Rover. ‘If you catch him up he can tell you better than me. It’s OK – I’ll look after Puzzle.’
Lucy handed back the hose and dashed across the yard. Aidan watched the conversation with interest, though he was too far away to hear – George explaining, looking serious, Lucy nodding, then shaking her head hard, staring at the ground, Dad joining in.
‘What have you been up to?’ he asked Puzzle, and the pony snorted and head-butted him. If he’d been somewhere he shouldn’t have been, he wasn’t telling.
‘BUT it must have happened somewhere,’ Aidan’s mum said.
‘Lucy swears she’s only jumped him with us,’ Dad said. ‘Kitty, stop crying for goodness’ sake and eat your tea. It’s not your pony that’s hurt.’
‘But the t-t-team,’ Kitty blubbed.
Aidan munched chips, fried egg and beans, and kept out of the conversation. He might have his suspicions, but he wasn’t going to tell tales.
‘I’m fed up with this blasted team,’ Mum said. ‘It’s caused nothing but bother as far as I can see. People falling out, extra horses taking up time and space, and I hate seeing you so worried. You work hard enough. You don’t need any more hassle.’ She slid her hand across the table and touched Dad’s hand.
Dad gave a long sigh. The zizz which had affected him while the team had been going so well seemed to have deserted him.
‘You could be right, Seaneen. It was probably daft. It was just the thought of the money.’
Mum gave a little snort. ‘Didn’t you say there were dozens of teams entering? You’d have a better chance doing the lottery.’
Exactly what Aidan had always thought, but he had a special reason for not saying anything just now. Because the last thing he wanted was for Kitty to pipe up, ‘Aidan will have to ride instead.’ Not that he would – not, he admitted, that he could – but it was much safer for the words not even to be spoken aloud.
After tea, Aidan said, ‘I’m going to take Alfie for a walk.’
‘Don’t stay out too long,’ Mum said. ‘It’s nearly dark.’
‘I’ll just go up the lane a bit.’
Alfie was very much Dad’s dog, haunting his heels and regarding the rest of the human race as distinctly second-best, but he shifted his pointed grey muzzle from between his paws and trotted out happily enough at the word walk, leaving his basket empty for Bernard to sneak into for warmth.
The lanes and fields were darkening fast, and the air chilled Aidan’s face. Alfie, a leggy grey shadow in the dusk, spiralled in delight at the smells the rain had teased out. There was enough light, however, helped out by his torch, for Aidan to see what he had expected to see in the empty field.
Hoof-prints. Scattered twigs in two places, and the sort of churned up ground that can only be made by a horse jumping.
ALTHOUGH it was practically next door, Aidan had never been inside Lucy’s house before. It was, as he’d imagined from the pristine white exterior, the exact opposite of his own house: everything very new and shiny and matching. And quiet. Lucy herself was so noisy and enthusiastic that it was hard to imagine her coming from here.
Her parents were apparently both in – their gleaming cars were parked on the weedless tarmac drive – but the whole time he was there he didn’t see or hear them. His own mum would have been rushing to see who had come in, and making cups of tea and opening biscuit tins. Lucy’s kitchen, all steel and chrome and glass, didn’t look as if it contained biscuit tins, much to the disappointment of Alfie, who sank down at Aidan’s heels with a sigh.
‘What is it?’ Lucy asked. ‘Is Puzzle worse?’ Like Kitty’s, her face was swollen with crying.
‘He’s fine, as far as I know.’ Aidan dug his hands deeper into the pocket of his jeans. Having decided to come and force a confession from Lucy, he wasn’t sure how to start – or exactly why. He coughed, pulled one of Alfie’s ears gently, took out his phone and fiddled with it until he had what he wanted. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘I want to know why you’re lying about jumping Puzzle in the empty field.’
Lucy’s face flamed. ‘I didn’t … I never … I was only …’
Aidan showed her his phone. The pictures weren’t terribly clear – it had been almost dark and he’d had to use the flash – but it was obvious what they were – the take-off and landing of improvised cross-country jumps.
‘Scroll through if you like. I took a few.’
When Lucy looked up, her face was ashamed. ‘Are you going to tell your dad?’ she whispered.
‘I’m not a tell-tale,’ Aidan said in disgust.
‘So why –’
‘I just don’t know why you didn’t tell him! Everybody’s been going round and round in circles thinking how it could have happened, and now Dad’s worrying about the drainage in the paddocks, and Mum’s worried about Dad, and Kitty’s crying about the team and – I don’t know, Lucy – I just didn’t think you were such a coward.’
‘It was only once. For, like, twenty minutes or something. I never – if I’d known …’ She bit her lip but at least she didn’t burst into tears. He’d had enough of that with Kitty.
Aidan waited. Lucy picked at a non-existent bit of dirt on her jumper.
‘I’m scared to tell your dad,’ she admitted at last. ‘He was so angry about Ty’s door. You didn’t hear him. I feel sick every time I think about it. He might not even let me stay at Rosevale.’ Now she was crying properly. ‘S-sorry,’ she spluttered. ‘I feel so bad – about hurting Puzzle and about letting everybody down.’
And now Aidan’s mind admitted the other reason why he had come. ‘You don’t have to let them down,’ he said. ‘You can ride Firefly.’
Lucy stared, her blue eyes round. ‘Honestly?’ she said at last. ‘You’d trust me with him, after – after this morning?’
‘Well, you’re hardly going to do that again, are you?’
She shook her head, sniffing. ‘Never. I’ll do exactly what Declan and Cam say, I promise.’
‘I know. And you ride him really well – better than me.’ A cold ball of sadness opened up inside him when he said this.
‘Will he be fit enough, though?’ Lucy asked with a sudden frown. ‘It’s only three weeks away.’
‘Well, I ride him nearly every day. Mostly hacking, but he’s pretty fit. Anyway, see what Dad and Cam say.’
Dad and Cam, predictably, said a lot. So did Kitty and Mum. All of it exceptionally complimentary about Aidan.
How generous he was.
How thoughtful.
How much a team player. Even for a team he wasn’t in.
‘I’d never have asked you to do that,’ his dad said. ‘Not your own pony. But I’m really proud of you.’
It was all very gratifying to hear. But it didn’t make up for the unexpected pain of seeing Lucy ride Firefly, rather cautiously at first, aware, probably, of having been given this cha
nce only for Rosevale’s benefit, but soon with all her usual spark and courage, qualities which seemed to transmit themselves to his pony.
And it definitely didn’t silence the nasty little voice inside him which insisted on whispering, You’re not doing it for Lucy. You’re not even doing it for Rosevale. You’re doing it for yourself.
Because as long as Lucy was jumping Firefly – brilliantly and bravely – nobody expected Aidan to do it.
AIDAN stood at the top of Cam’s field with the stopwatch.
‘It’s not about raking,’ Cam said, carefully not looking at Lucy. ‘But we need to get a good time, so you will need to gallop. When it’s safe, Lucy.’ As always she slipped easily into instructor mode. ‘OK, one at a time, down over the logs, and when you get to the bottom, turn and gallop up the hill. Aidan will time you.’
As the competition approached, they had been spending more time at Cam’s. Aidan would have preferred not to go, but he couldn’t have people saying he was jealous of Lucy. And it was funny how much more involved he felt now that Firefly was in the team. It stung to watch Lucy doing so well on him, but in another way he was proud of his pony. Even now, he was hoping Firefly would be one of the fastest. And it would have been daft to have made the big gesture of lending him, only for Firefly not to have been any good. And in three weeks – two weeks – a week – the competition would be over, and he would have his pony back.
By now the downhill jumps held no fear for any of the team. Rather them than me, Aidan thought, as he watched his dad take the jump easily, make a wide arc round the bottom of the field, then give Folly her head to the top. When she was younger – Aidan’s dad had rescued her from horrendous abuse – Folly had often galloped flat out, but usually without being asked to. Aidan grinned at her now, keen but controlled, his dad’s wiry body crouched over her withers like a jockey, his face mud-spattered under his hat.
Too Many Ponies Page 6