by Kate Lattey
Tegan snorts. “Rubbish, you’ll never get one that nice for that cheap again. You heard that lady, it’s a one-off.”
Lizzie gets to her feet. “I can lend you the money. Let’s go see this saddle.”
I stare at my friend’s sister in surprise. “Are you sure? It’s a lot of money.”
She shrugs it off. “It’s fine. You should have a nice saddle for your pony. And you’ll pay me back, right?”
I nod emphatically. “Of course. My Gran’s sending me some money, but I can probably get three hundred off my Dad, I should have it by Monday, or Tuesday at the outside.”
“Whenever,” Lizzie replies. “I’m not worried. Come on, let’s go before it gets sold to someone else.”
Twenty minutes later I am the proud owner of a beautiful new jumping saddle.
“Now I just have to hope it fits Finn,” I tell Tegan. The more I look at it, the more convinced I become that it will pinch her, or sit completely wrong on her back.
“Stop worrying,” Tegan snaps at me, tired of my constant fretting. “It was a bargain. If you can’t make it fit, you sell it on Trade Me for twice what you paid for it and spend the profit on an even better saddle. No biggie.”
We go to find Alec and watch him jump Lucky in the metre-fifteen championship class. He goes really well until the final combination, where Lucky slips on take-off into the first and rattles it, then knocks the next two fences down. Sarah is jumping Mickey in the same class, but she doesn’t do very well either, having a run out and three rails.
“Hard luck,” Amy tells her as she comes out of the ring, but her sister rides off without a backward glance, wiping away disappointed tears.
The rest of the show passes quickly. We watch the show jumping Pony of the Year class that afternoon, which comes down to a very competitive jump-off between three very different riders. First out is a tall boy on a very experienced grey pony called Flying High, and Tegan tells me that his parents are rolling in money and that he has already competed for New Zealand at international children’s competitions. He jumps a fast clear round and trots out of the ring looking very pleased with himself. Next is a girl with a very strong seat on a crazy skewbald that gallops at all of the jumps with its head in the air, only looking at the fences at the very last moment before flinging itself over. It clears the first four fences in this way, but kicks a brick out of the wall to finish on four faults. The last pony out is a gorgeous chestnut called Skybeau, whose rider guides him beautifully and calmly around the course to jump clear and beat the grey’s time by half a second. Tegan and I are on our feet and clapping hard as the chestnut canters his lap of honour, but in my head it’s me and Finn cantering around the ring to the loud applause.
The St Pauls head home that afternoon, now that Tish’s classes are finished, but Tegan convinces her mum to let her stay on in the tent and get a ride back with the Harrisons. We spend a crazy night chasing each other around the show grounds in the dark before crashing out in our tent and talking into the wee small hours again. The next morning we sleep in and miss Alec’s last class, but he didn’t place so he doesn’t care that we didn’t see it. We sit on the grass and watch the mounted games teams final, cheering on the New Zealanders as they beat the Australian and Irish teams who have come over for the show and are competing on borrowed ponies. On our way back to the grandstand, Alec grabs us and tells us to pack our gear, we’re heading out.
“But we’ll miss the Olympic Cup!” Tegan complains. “That’s the biggest class of the show – it’s the main attraction!”
“Tough luck,” Alec replies. “We’ve got a long drive ahead of us and Mum wants to hit the road. You better get that tent down and fast.”
“Next year,” I tell a disappointed Tegan as we rattle home in the back of the truck.
“Next year we’ll bring our ponies,” she replies confidently. “And win. Well, I’ll win. You can come second,” she adds as an afterthought.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Fortunately, Finn’s new saddle fits her almost perfectly, and once Gran wires me the money, I pay Lizzie back and call Tegan’s miracle-working saddle fitter. He confirms that the saddle is a good basic fit on Finn, and makes only minor adjustments to it. He’s expensive, but it’s worth it to know that my pony will be comfortable.
Pony Club finally rolls around and Tegan joins Alec and me as we hack our ponies over to the rally grounds. She’s in a very good mood, having heard that today is going to be a cross-country jumping lesson, but when we arrive she sees our instructor coming towards us, she lets out a loud groan.
“Oh no. We’ve got Hannah Brodie.”
“What?” Alec swings his head around and I turn with him to see a petite blonde woman approaching us. “Oh man, I wouldn’t have come if I’d known that.”
“What’s wrong with her?” I ask worriedly.
“Nothing,” Natalie snaps, having overheard. “She’s a very good instructor.”
“She’s a dressage rider,” Alec explains.
“Boooooring,” Tegan grumbles.
I commiserate with them, but personally I’m pleased. This is just what Finn needs.
An hour and a half later, my legs are aching from riding without stirrups, my arms are sore from Finn’s insistent tugging, and I’m sweating like a pig, but Finn is finally working nicely - forward, supple and on the bit. We ride home slowly, nursing our aching muscles, and I have to listen to Alec and Tegan complaining about having to do dressage for an entire rally.
“It wasn’t that bad,” I tell them. “I learnt heaps.”
Tegan rolls her eyes at me. “That’s ‘cause Hannah liked Finn. She hated Nugget! Dressage people always hate him.”
“She thought Jess was even worse,” Alec points out. “But did you hear what she said about Pushbutton’s pony?”
I grin, reliving the moment as Tegan delightedly repeats the instructor’s words.
“Yep! That he’s a nice pony who needs a kinder ride. Hah! Ain’t that the truth.”
The next day I arrive at the Harrisons’ ready to practice what I’d learnt at Pony Club. I saddle Finn and take her into the house paddock, trotting her around in circles, trying to ride her forward into the bridle like I was taught, but it’s not working. She’s rushing and I can’t convince her to slow down without having to tug at the reins. Dolly isn’t helping by following Finn around, distracting my pony and making her try to kick her supposed friend in the head.
“Why are you torturing that poor pony?”
I turn to see Alec leaning on the gate, watching me.
“I’m schooling her, not torturing her,” I retort but he shrugs.
“Same difference.” He walks into the paddock and catches Dolly. “Didn’t realise you were trying to make her into a dressage pony.”
“I’m not,” I tell him. “But she needs to do more flat work, it’s important for her jumping.”
Alec shrugs. “Waste of time if you ask me. I’m going up the logging road. You wanna come?”
I’m sorely tempted, but I feel like I ought to finish my schooling. Alec scratches Dolly’s ears as he waits for my reply. The bay pony tosses her head in irritation and Finn snorts and sidesteps, fed up with being schooled.
“Okay,” I agree. “I’m just making her mad. I still need more lessons.”
“You’re doing fine,” Alec reassures me. “Takes time to get used to a new pony. Rome wasn’t built in a day and all that.”
I walk Finn on a long rein as Alec throws some tack onto Dolly, patting my pony’s sweaty neck. It’s a warm day and the cicadas in the trees are humming at full volume. Alec swings up onto Dolly’s back, tightening his girth as we head down the driveway. Minutes later, we’re trotting along a wide track between the trees, and I breathe in the sweet smell of pine needles as the ponies crush them underfoot. We take the track to the overlook, and on the way home we go through the Harrisons’ back paddocks. Alec picks up a canter along the top of a low ridge, then turns Dolly down the hill. Fin
n tugs at the bit and races after them. I try to steady her, but she’s quickly getting out of control, and I yell to Alec to stop.
“Harden up,” he teases me. I look up and see the sky darkening with clouds over the sea, coming steadily towards us.
“Uh oh. It’s going to pour,” I tell him.
“What are you, made of sugar? Think you’ll melt?”
I stick my tongue out at him. “No. I just would rather not get soaked to the bone if I can avoid it.”
“Fair enough,” he concedes. “I should get back anyway, I haven’t even started that English assignment that’s due tomorrow.”
“Slacker.”
“I just have better things to do with my time than read poetry,” he replies as we make our way along the bottom of the hill.
Heavy drops of rain start to fall, leaving dark spots on Finn’s coat.
“Let’s go,” Alec says and kicks Dolly into a canter.
I set Finn behind her and we canter along the base of the hill. Alec swings his pony around a corner and I follow him as he approaches an old wooden five-bar gate. It’s covered in lichen, broken at the bottom and sitting crooked on its hinges. It’s going to take forever to drag it open and closed again behind us, and at least one of us is going to have to dismount to manage it. I’m about to ask Alec if there’s a faster way, when I realise that he has no intention of stopping. He sets Dolly at the gate, sitting down in the saddle and kicking her on.
“Oh no!” I cry out as Alec rides Dolly towards the gate, but the bay pony is backing off like crazy, and comes to a skidding halt in front of it. I pull Finn away to stop her from crashing into the Dolly’s rump, and circle her around.
“What the hell?” I ask Alec as he kicks his pony hard in the ribs.
“You’ll have to go first,” he replies.
“Are you serious? I’m not jumping that.”
“Don’t be such a wimp, we jump it all the time. It’s a shortcut. Give Dolly a lead, she’ll follow Finn.”
I’m not convinced, but the rain is getting heavier by the moment and I don’t fancy having to go back the long way, so I canter Finn towards the gate. Alec puts Dolly right in behind us, and Finn pins her ears back at the other pony.
“Stay off her back end,” I warn Alec as we approach the gate.
It looks huge and solid – if we hit this, it’s not going to fall down. Be brave, I tell myself. Sit down and kick on. I wrap my legs around my pony’s sides and keep my eyes up. Three strides to go, two…one…and Finn lifts off the ground easily, flying over the gate and showing a clean pair of heels to Dolly.
“Good girl,” I praise my mare, patting her neck as I glance over my shoulder at Alec.
Dolly looks terrified but she launches herself up and over the gate, then races off afterwards with a victory buck, impressed by her own bravery. Finn rears mid-stride as Dolly overtakes her, then grabs the bit and gallops after her.
Alec grins over his shoulder as I gain on him, and I laugh out loud as Finn quickly overtakes his smaller pony. I dig my knees in and bring her back to a canter as we slide down the bank to the creek, and my pony splashes through the muddy water before leaping up the bank on the other side. Dolly has dropped behind us as we race on up the hill and through the open gate to the hill paddock. Finn is puffing and slows herself to a trot as I turn to see Alec trotting steadily up the hill, so I slide off and open the top gate.
“She’s so fast!” I exclaim to Alec as he jogs up on Dolly, who is blowing heavily.
“Cross-country pony,” he replies, meaning Finn. I shake my head.
“Show jumping pony. Did you see how she cleared that gate? Easy as.”
“She can sure jump,” he agrees. “Told you you’d get a decent pony for two grand, didn’t I? And you thought I was full of crap.”
“Well you were right about the pony,” I concede. “But I still think you’re full of crap.”
He slides off Dolly and we lead our ponies over to their yards, untacking them quickly and throwing rugs over their hot backs. The rain is settling in now, casting a grey mist across the paddocks as we sit in the woolshed and watch the ponies eat their feeds before turning them out. Dolly wanders slowly into the paddock and stops just inside the gate to crop the grass, too tired to walk any further. Finn is still full of energy, trotting across the paddock and calling out to Lucky who is sheltering under the tree. Her legs are muddy, her forelock is dripping with water, and she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Want a ride home?” Alec offers.
“Sure. Want some help with that English assignment?”
He nods. “Yeah, actually. You’re English, you’ll be real helpful.”
I punch his arm as he goes quickly into the house to change into dry clothes and grab his books. But moments later he’s back with a face like thunder. He says nothing as he gets into the car and starts it up, but from the way he drives aggressively up the road I can tell he’s angry. We pull into my driveway and he grabs the pack of cigarettes out of the glove compartment and lights one. He draws in a long breath and turns away from me before he exhales, then sighs and leans his head back against the headrest.
“Sorry. You don’t have to sit here and inhale my second-hand smoke. I’ll meet you inside.”
I shrug. “It’s fine. Your dad again?”
“Yeah.” He offers nothing else, and I don’t like to pry. We sit silently for a moment and listen to the rain battering the car roof.
“Can I have a puff?” I ask him. He looks dubious.
“These things will kill you, you know,” he tells me.
I shrug and hold out my hand, and Alec hesitantly passes me the cigarette. I put it between my lips and inhale the smoke. It’s warm and tastes odd, and as I breathe out again I start coughing. Alec laughs.
“Nice.” He takes the cigarette back from me. “No more for you.”
“That’s hardly fair,” I complain.
“Life’s not fair,” he replies. “Deal with it.”
I’m trying to think of a good comeback to that when I feel a wet drip land on my head. I look up and get another one right in the eye.
“Alec? Your car’s leaking.”
He turns his head and unintentionally blows smoke right in my face. I cough pointedly and fan the smoke away with my hand.
“Sorry.” He prods at the roof above my head and a large drip hits me right on the nose.
“Argh! You’re making it worse.”
He shakes his head. “I’m gonna have to fix that now.”
“What about your poetry assignment?”
“Do it for me?”
“Unlikely. Do it yourself.”
“Even more unlikely. I’m failing English anyway, it’s not like it matters.”
I open my mouth to say something, but he holds up his hand as he stubs the cigarette out in the ashtray. “Don’t bother. I won’t listen. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I bite back my words. “Okay.” I stare out at the heavy rain apprehensively.
“Run fast,” Alec suggests.
As I dash across the lawn and up onto the porch, I can hear Chewy barking from inside the house. Alec reverses out and I wave him off, then go inside, soaked to the bone and ready for a hot shower.
The next morning on the bus, Alec drops a folded piece of paper in my lap.
“What’s this?” I pick it up and read the words Cambridge Easter Classic across the front.
“Entry forms.”
“Excellent.” My first real show on Finn. I open up the catalogue and start looking through the classes. When Tegan gets on board, we sit together and go over it carefully, deciding what to enter. It’s a two day event, so we decide to warm up with two 90cm classes on the Saturday, then try a 95cm speed class on Sunday.
“What about having a shot a metre class?”
“What if Finn jumps badly in the nineties?”
“She won’t. And if she does, you can scratch. The entry fees are pretty low, it won’t matter.
If you say she’s lame they might even give you your money back. I did that last year at Tauranga when Nugget was being naughty. He bucked me off twice, the little devil.”
“I enter it if you will,” I challenge her.
“You’re on.”
* * *
I spend the rest of the week schooling Finn over jumps, my attempts at dressage abandoned for now. She continues to rush her fences, but I’m not getting left behind anymore and we’re finally getting used to one another.
A storm is brewing on Friday afternoon as we set up a course of nine fences. Alec brings a tape measure, so we can set the heights to exactly a metre, and I’m determined to get a good clear round so that we’re all set for the show. I trot and canter Finn around the paddock, trying to restrain her overflowing nervous energy. She’s pulling hard as we jump the first three fences, but she is giving them plenty of air and doesn’t rattle a pole. A nasty wind is picking up now though, and as we approach the next jump, a huge gust comes through and blows the poles to the ground. Finn rears in horror and I’m almost unseated, but manage to stay in the saddle. Alec rebuilds the jump and Finn gallops at it and flies over wildly. She starts bucking when we land and it takes me two circuits of the paddock to get her back under control.
“You might want to leave it for today,” Alec suggests. “That wind’s supposed to get a whole lot worse and she’s getting all riled up now.”
Reluctantly I agree. I take Finn back to the yard and start untacking as Liam comes out of the house and starts walking towards us.
“I better go, Dad’s gonna want some help securing the stock,” Alec says. “Don’t get blown down the valley, it’d take us days to find you.”
“That’s comforting,” I tell him as he jogs over to his dad.
As I leave the yard, Finn is standing under the macrocarpa tree in the house paddock, and it’s creaking and groaning in the wind.
“Don’t let that fall down on top of you,” I warn her as I head out the gate and battle my way up the hill, straining against the gale.