Pony Jumpers 6- Six to Ride

by Kate Lattey

  “Right. I know. Well, same. Kind of. Yeah.” My words tripped out in a staccato beat, and I was moving more quickly now to his door, the finger-stained glass still clutched in my hand. “I’ll just get AJ to fill this up. Feel better soon, eh?”

  He said something else, but I didn’t catch it. Fleeing down the hall, I returned to the kitchen and set the glass on the bench. “He’s thirsty.”

  “That’s nice.” AJ took another bite of her sandwich and chewed slowly, her eyes on me. Then she frowned, and swallowed. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, fine. I should go.”

  “I thought your mum wasn’t picking you up until three,” AJ argued. “It’s only half past one.”

  “I know, but I want to go see Tori. After everything that Sophie said, I just feel like I should spend some more time with her. Mull things over, see if I can’t find a way to get through to her.”

  AJ nodded. “I get it. I’d be the same.” She glanced at the oven clock on the wall behind me. “There’s a bus at quarter to two, that goes from just down the street and stops at the end of your road. Have you got your pass?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, tapping my pocket. “Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

  “Yep. Good luck with Tori.”

  “Cheers.” I went to the front door and picked up my backpack, then pushed my feet into my jandals. AJ had followed me and was standing in the kitchen doorway, watching as I prepared to leave. “Oh, I almost forgot. Anders wanted some cheese and onion toasties.”

  “Of course he did.” She rolled her eyes, and turned around. “I’m getting a little sick of being slave labour,” she called over her shoulder, letting her voice carry up the hallway towards her brother.

  I waited until I heard her opening the fridge again, then unzipped my backpack and pulled out the red hoodie that was stuffed at the bottom. I’d thought it would be hard to part with, but now it just seemed pathetic that I had it at all. I should never have taken it in the first place. Well, I knew that now. Add that to the list of things that I was only just figuring out. I hung it up on the coat rack, not caring whether anyone would think it was strange that it had just appeared there, then opened the front door and let myself out into the bright Hawke’s Bay sunshine.

  * * *

  Sweat trickled down my back, and my arms were stinging as another hay bale landed at my feet. I grabbed it by the twine and dragged it across the flatbed trailer to where Bradley was stacking them. He reached down and grabbed it, heaving it upwards and setting it on top of the pile.

  “Don’t overstack one end, keep it level,” his father Barry shouted at us as he hiffed another bale onto the trailer at my feet.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Bradley muttered. “Chuck it up here, Katy.”

  I looked at him, standing on the top of the stack that was at least five bales high, then down at my feet. “Yeah, right. What am I, Wonder Woman?”

  “Come on, use your muscles.” Bradley jumped down to my level, his broad face breaking into a wide grin as he reached out and took hold of my upper arm. “Flex. I dare you.”

  Another bale landed at my feet. “Leave her alone, Brad.”

  “Shut up Phyllis,” Bradley snapped at his brother, but he did let go of me. He grabbed the bale and threw it into place as I turned to see Phil walking alongside the trailer.

  “Thanks,” I said, but he just nodded, his face hidden underneath a dark blue baseball cap, then strode ahead of the slow-moving tractor to pick up another bale.

  We didn’t have enough land to grow and cut our own hay, so we always got it from the Fitzherberts. Mum had long ago brokered a deal with them to get cheap hay in exchange for our labour after it was cut and baled, helping their family to pick it up and stack it in their huge hay barn. The trailer shuddered as another bale landed at my feet, and I hefted it weakly towards Bradley, my energy drained after a long afternoon of picking up hay.

  “Come on, put your back into it,” he teased as he yanked it out of my hands. Just then, the trailer hit a rut and pitched sideways. I grabbed Bradley to avoid falling over, and the bale that Phil was lifting hit the suddenly-elevated rim and bounced back into him, knocking him backwards. He didn’t fall over, but it was a close thing.

  Bradley burst out laughing. “Watch it bro, don’t hurt yourself!” he mocked, and Phil flushed scarlet as he scooped the bale up again and caught up with the trailer, then threw it onboard.

  “Leave him alone,” I told Bradley. He shot me a surprised look.

  “He’s all right. Used to it, eh Phyllis?”

  Phil ignored us both, chucking another bale up and striding on alongside the trailer. I pushed the hair out of my eyes with a sticky forearm and looked out across the hay paddock, trying to count the remaining bales.

  Bradley seemed to be reading my mind. “How many left, Dad?” he called down to Barry, who lifted another bale effortlessly off the mown grass, the strings bunched in one huge hand, and threw it easily onto the trailer.

  “Twenty or so. Almost done.”

  “Awesome. Hope Mum’s got the barbeque going.”

  “She better have some beer on ice, anyway,” Barry agreed, looking over at his younger son. “Come on mate, keep going. Day’s not over yet.”

  Phil had stopped with his hands on his knees, eyes on the ground. I could see the sweat beading on the back of his neck, leaving his hair damp and sweat staining the back of his t-shirt.

  “See that, Katy?” Bradley asked, grinning down at me from his position halfway up the hay stack. “That right there is what sitting on your arse all day gets you. Can’t even manage half a day’s work without looking like passing out.”

  Phil’s head shot up, and he gave Bradley a dirty look before striding on and grabbing the next bale, then throwing it onto the trailer. It bounced on its end, then tipped over, almost flattening me. I grabbed it just in time, but the force still pushed me backwards into the stack behind me.

  “Careful!” Barry snapped before Bradley could get a word in. “Watch what you’re doing, or you’ll get someone hurt.”

  Phil looked at me for the first time that day. “Sorry. You right?”

  “Yeah.”

  I wasn’t really. I was hot and tired and mad at him for barely talking to me, and I was almost definitely getting sunburned, and just wanted to be done. But we still had twenty – eighteen, now – bales to pick up, and then we had to unload all this at our place. At least we’d get to stop for a bit first, while everyone quenched their thirst and had a meal. That was another tradition that went with picking up the hay, and it was the best part. My stomach rumbled a bit as Barry threw another bale onto the trailer, and I leaned down and grabbed it, the twine biting into my fingers through my leather gloves as I counted down to the end of the day’s work.

  “Is that all you’re eating?”

  Miriam Fitzherbert glowered at me across the table, and I looked down at the plate in my hand. “I don’t like sausages.”

  “Have some more potatoes then,” she demanded, dumping two more onto my plate. “And make sure you eat them. You’re too skinny as it is.”

  “Leave her alone, Mum,” Phil said, stepping up next to me. His plate was piled high with meat, but unlike mine, utterly devoid of greens.

  His mother looked at our plates and sighed. “You’ve got one meal between you, anyway,” she grumbled. “I suppose you’re planning on filling up with pudding, eh?”

  Phil’s face twitched into a grin. “You know me too well.”

  She rolled her eyes and waved the tongs at us. “Go on, get out of here.”

  I walked across the deck and stepped off the low edge, then sat down on it. Phil followed me, then hesitated, his plate in his hand.

  “You gonna sit down, or have I contracted the plague or something?”

  “Nah.” He sat down quickly but left over a metre of space between us, then started to eat.

  I opened my mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by my mother, who’d come over to inspect my meal.<
br />
  “Got enough to eat, Katy?”

  “Yes. I’m fine, go away.”

  “All right, all right.” Mum didn’t go far, sitting down on a chair by the wall of the house and settling her loaded plate on her lap. “Miriam was just worried about you, that’s all.”

  “Well tell her to mind her own business.”

  Mum shot me a sharp look, but I saw Phil grin as he cut into his steak.

  “How’s that new horse going, Katy?” Hannah asked, coming to sit on the other side of me. All she seemed to have for dinner was a cold bottle of beer, which she was swigging keenly away at, but nobody was harassing her about it.

  “Getting there,” I said noncommittally.

  “A lot better now,” Mum interjected, and Hannah turned to face her, cutting me out of the conversation. “Sophie Hewitt came down yesterday and gave Katy some pointers, since she used to ride Tori as a youngster. She was very helpful, but ther’es still lots to work on,” Mum added, eyeballing me. I focused my attention on my salad, stabbing my fork through a piece of tomato.

  “I remember Sophie,” Hannah said. “Blonde, right? Tall, all legs, no arse?”

  “Opposite of you, then,” Bradley commented as he walked past, and Hannah grabbed one of the baby potatoes off my plate and threw it at his head. He ducked, and it splashed into the fishpond behind him.

  “Hole in one,” I said.

  “Hannah’s specialty,” Bradley grinned, and Phil barely suppressed a snort.

  “Piss off, Brad.” Hannah shook her hair back and focused her attention on me. “I saw the photo of her on Facebook. Looks like a nice horse, real scopey. She’s the sister to their young stallion, isn’t she? He’s a horse and a half.”

  “He sure is,” Mum agreed. “I only wish Tori was as good-natured, but it looks like Katy’s bought herself the hardest horse in the country to ride. Of course, if they’d just let me go with them to look at horses, we wouldn’t be in this pickle. Honestly, if I’d had any idea that they’d come home with something like that, I’d never have let them go up there unsupervised.”

  I’d heard enough. I put my plate down and stood up, unable to even look my mother in the eye before I walked off. Tears blurred my vision and I had to blink them away as I stumbled through the landscaped gardens that surrounded the Fitzherberts’ house and made my way to the only place I could think of where I’d be left alone.

  “Katy, you up there?”

  I looked down from my perch on top of the hay and saw Phil, silhouetted between the double doors that led into the hay barn. “I’m here.”

  He walked into the building, casting a long shadow across the floor. I watched him climb up through the dust motes that floated in the warm air. He reached my side and sat down next to me, close enough that our knees were touching.

  “So now you’ll sit next to me.” I shifted petulantly away from him. “Just not in public, is that it?”

  He pushed his cap back on his head, then took it off and set it on the hay bale next to him. His flattened hair was sticking to his forehead, and he brushed vaguely at it with the side of his hand.

  “No. Just not in front of Bradley.”

  “Why? Are you scared he’ll tease you?” He said nothing, and I rolled my eyes. “Shit, Phil, he teases you non-stop anyway. What difference would it make?”

  “I don’t…” He frowned, leaning his elbows on his knees and looking down. “It makes a difference, okay?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want him to wreck this.” He looked at me plaintively, but I wasn’t letting him off that easy.

  “Wreck what, exactly? Because all I know is that we had a random hook up in my tack room a few days ago, but you’ve barely texted me back since, and when I finally see you again you won’t even look me in the eye. If anyone’s wrecking this,” I told him firmly. “It’s you.”

  Phil’s jaw tightened, and I noticed that his eyes drooped down slightly at the corners. “Yeah, I know.”

  I waited for him to say something else, but it didn’t come. “That’s it? You know?”

  “What d’you want me to say?”

  “Oh I don’t know, how about I’m really sorry Katy, for making you feel like crap, please forgive me? Something like that?” My emotions were boiling over, but I’d had enough. Anders’ flat out rejection of me had been softened by the knowledge that Phil was out there, and that even if Anders wasn’t interested, he was. Except then he’d ignored me too, and I’d been starting to wonder if I’d been played, or if he’d thought back on our heartfelt conversation and decided that I was crazy after all.

  “I’m sorry Katy, for making you feel like crap,” Phil repeated my words diligently. “I didn’t mean to, honest. I haven’t texted you back because I keep worrying about saying the wrong thing. I didn’t want to sound stupid.”

  I stared at him. “Phil. It’s me. You’ve known me forever, and you’ve said heaps of stupid things over the years. But I’m still here, aren’t I?” He said nothing, and I looked out across the dusty hay barn with a sigh. So many years, so many memories. “Remember when we were kids, and we made the rope swing and tied it to that beam in the middle of the barn?”

  He nodded, following the direction of my gaze up towards the roof. He’d shimmied out onto the high, narrow beam on his belly, knotted the rope around it and then edged slowly backwards. I’d watched with my heart in my mouth, so afraid that he’d fall, but he’d had that dancer’s grace and he’d never faltered.

  “Yeah. Dad was so mad when he found out.”

  “In his defence, the rope did break,” I reminded him.

  “Only when Bradley’s fat arse was swinging on it.”

  I grinned. “True. And if he hadn’t broken his leg when he landed, we’d have got away with it. Or at least got in a lot less trouble.”

  Phil smiled, leaning back against the hay. “Mm. Good times.”

  “D’you miss them?”

  “Yeah. You?”

  “I guess. I mean, I miss some things. Not others. I wouldn’t want to be twelve again. It was an awkward time for me.” Phil’s lips curved up into a smile as he leaned back against the hay bales with his hands behind his head. He smelled like sweat, and hay, and sunshine. His eyes were still fixed on that high beam, and he blinked slowly, his long eyelashes speckled with hay dust. “But I miss what you were like back then.” He turned his head towards me, looking startled, and I tried to explain. “You didn’t give a crap what anyone thought of you. You said whatever came into your head, and you came up with crazy challenges and somehow talked me into doing them with you. You took ballet lessons, and you never let Bradley stop you from doing things you wanted to, just in case he teased you about it later. So yeah, I miss that Phil. He was my best friend. And then he just…vanished.”

  “I’m sorry.” He sat up straighter and moved closer to me, closing the gap between us again. This time I didn’t move away.

  “Where did he go?” I asked quietly, trying not to tear up.

  “He’s still here.” Phil leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, resting his chin on folded hands. “He just grew up. Realised he couldn’t fly, after all.”

  And then I remembered - that last ballet concert that Phil had been in, his dance school’s production of Peter Pan. He’d had the lead role, and had rehearsed for weeks, everywhere he went, in every spare moment that he had. On the deck, in the lounge, down the driveway, beside the river. And on the night, I’d been there. I’d sat in the audience and watched him dance, ignoring Bradley’s sniggering and Barry’s snores and Lacey’s squirming and Miriam’s irritated tut-tutting every time one of the other kids missed their cue or messed up a move – which was at least half of the time, because the production was amateurish at best. But Phil had been wonderful, throwing his heart and soul into it, making me believe that he really was the boy who would never grow up.

  Then afterwards, when he’d come out from backstage, still in his costume, his face alight with excite
ment, he’d asked his family what they thought. And his brother had turned to him with a disparaging look, and said “That was the gayest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Phil’s face had fallen, and he’d turned to his father, who’d looked him up and down, then driven another nail into the coffin of Phil’s dance career. “Aren’t you getting a bit old for this now? You’re not going to be able to wear tights forever.”

  Miriam had interjected, offered some praise, but the damage had been done. And I’d just stood there, silent, and let them break his heart. He’d quit ballet a few weeks later, and stopped talking to me shortly after that.

  “You were wonderful,” I told him now, several years too late. “Best Peter Pan I’ve ever seen.”

  Phil looked at me, seeming surprised. “You remember that?”

  “I remember you. The rest of the concert, not so much. But you were great.” His damp hair had fallen over his forehead again, and I pushed it gently back. “Why’d you really give up? And don’t tell me you didn’t love it enough, because I know you did.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, I did. But nobody else cared.”

  “I cared.”

  “You weren’t enough.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Sorry. But you know what I mean. Mum always complained about taking me to lessons, and Dad never liked it from the start cause he thought it was sissy, and he was never shy about saying so. And Bradley was just…well, you know what he’s like. And then we went to college and somehow it got out that I danced and everyone started calling me Ballerina Boy, and I just couldn’t be bothered anymore. It was easier to give up, so I did.” He picked a few strands of hay out of the bale he was sitting on, dropping them over the edge of the stack and watching them float to the ground. “Pretty lame, eh.”

  “Yeah,” I told him. “But I get it.”

  He looked over at me. “You do?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Was your ballet teacher disappointed?”

  “Dunno. I never saw her again.”

  “You could start back up,” I suggested. “If you really miss it. Who cares what Bradley thinks, or anyone else? You could drive yourself to lessons now. They wouldn’t be able to stop you. Turn up on your dirt bike. Biker Ballet Boy.”