Well, time went on as it always does, however much you wish it wouldn’t, and I finished my pudding, which was treacle tart and very nice, and I went upstairs to change. You couldn’t really call it changing, for the only riding clothes I had were my jodhpurs. At the end of the Easter holidays I had had to have a new pair of shoes, and I had persuaded Mummy to let me have lace-up ones instead of the strap kind, so I didn’t feel quite so silly as I had felt when I went to the rally, but I did wish that I had a riding coat and a crash cap or a bowler. However, this was no time for wishing, so I washed my face and brushed my hair and ran down to get Cavalier ready.
Of course I had caught him and put him in his box in the morning before I had groomed him, and now I had only to saddle and bridle him. Everything went wrong. First of all I lost the bridle, at least I couldn’t remember where I had put it after cleaning it the night before. I screamed to Mummy and both she and Mrs Beazley rushed about the house looking for it while I put the saddle on. Since Cavalier had got fatter, my girths were rather short and lately it had been a bit of a job to get them to buckle. To-day it was awful. Every time I tried to pull them through the buckles they slipped out of my fingers. The awful thought came to me that Cavalier had got fatter in the night, and that it wasn’t possible for anyone to buckle them, but it must have been only that my fingers were clumsy from being excited, for just as I was feeling quite desperate, they did buckle. Then Mummy came flying out of the house with the bridle, which Mrs Beazley had found in the spare bedroom. Of course I remembered at once that I had put it there because Daddy splashes in the bath.
Even now my troubles were not over. Cavalier had got bored while I fumbled with his girths and now he had made up his mind to be tiresome. As soon as he saw the bridle he put his head up high where he knows I can’t reach it, and made an awful face with his lips and looked just like a camel. I dragged in the box, which I use when I am grooming the high parts of him, but still I couldn’t reach, and I shrieked for Mummy. She flew back, but just as she came into the stable Cavalier put his head down and I slipped the bridle on easily.
In another minute I was off, five minutes late and feeling hot and bothered. In all the flurry I had got rid of the needle, but other awful feelings had come instead of it. First, my stirrups seemed too long. I pulled them up and then they seemed too short, so I let them down again. Then I got an awful idea that Cavalier was going lame; his trot seemed awfully funny. I got off and looked to see if there was a stone in any of his shoes, but of course there wasn’t. Then I imagined that as he trotted I could hear him breathing, and I thought that perhaps I had let him get too fat, and should break his wind riding him in the gymkhana. I pulled up and went on slowly, wondering if I had better scratch, till suddenly, long before I expected it, I saw flags and tents and we had arrived at the gymkhana.
I forgot all about stirrups and lameness and broken wind, and I dug my heels into Cavalier and we rode briskly on till we came to a gateway. Some children on smart stabled ponies were going in. They looked very professional and wore black coats and bowlers. I followed them at a respectful distance and saw them tying their ponies up, beside others, to a railing at the far side of the field, in the shade of some chestnuts. I rode over and tied Cavalier up too.
The children were putting lovely rugs, with initials in the corners, over their ponies, and I did wish I had one for Cavalier. However sternly I saved up, it would be ages before I could afford one. There was Guy to pay back and I also wanted a martingale. However, this was no time for wanting things. The other children had finished putting on their rugs and one of them said to the others, ‘Come along. We must go to the Secretary’s tent and get our numbers.’ He was a boy, and, though boys are silly in most ways, they generally know where to get things. So I said very politely, ‘I say, could you tell me where to enter for things you haven’t entered for?’
He said, ‘Yes. In the Secretary’s tent. You’ll get your numbers there, too.’
‘Where is it?’ I asked him.
He said, ‘We’re going there.’
So I went along with them. They were quite nice and asked me what I was going in for. When we got to the Secretary’s tent, the boy said to the man there, ‘This person wants to make a late entry,’ and pushed me forward. I must say, he was a very polite boy.
The man said, ‘What do you want to enter for?’ and I told him, and gave him the five shillings. It was awful seeing those two half-crowns vanish and not really being sure that I would ever be able to pay it back again.
The man put down my name and Cavalier’s. The boy said, ‘She wants her number for Musical Chairs too,’ and I was given it. The other children got theirs for the Riding Class, and then we all went out of the tent again. There I met Mummy, who had just arrived. She tied on my number and we went to look at the ring. On the way I caught sight of the jumps, which were stacked ready to be carried in. They looked enormous and my needle came on again.
The ring looked very gay. There were cars on two sides of it with people sitting in them, and on the other sides were lines of people not in cars. It was awful to think that all those people would see me fall off.
Well, time went on and the first event started. The children walked round and then trotted round and cantered. I could see the cousins, who must have come when I was in the Secretary’s tent; they are the sort of children who never arrive a minute too early. I must say they rode beautifully, though Camilla looked a bit fat, and their ponies looked marvellous. The best children were picked out one by one and put in a row on one side of the judges and the others drew up on the other side. Among the best children were Guy and Camilla and the polite boy.
Each of the best children did a figure of eight, and then the judges talked for a bit and then one of them went forward with the rosettes. He gave the red one, which meant first, to Guy, and the blue one, which meant second, to Camilla, and the yellow one to the polite boy. I looked up his name in the programme and found that it was David Willoughby.
The winners rode round the ring. I didn’t look at them because I was feeling so awful – the next event was Musical Chairs, and I had got to ride. My legs felt so weak that I didn’t see how I could possibly mount, much less stay on at a canter, and I did wish that Mummy would get nervous and suggest that I should scratch from everything. But she didn’t. She only said, ‘Guy first and Camilla second! How pleased Agnes must be.’ So I said in a quavering voice, ‘I’d better go now and get Cavalier.’
Mummy said, ‘Yes, do.’
It was quite a long way to the railings where Cavalier was tied, and as soon as I had gone a few steps I thought how awful it would be if I couldn’t unbuckle the reins and tighten the girths and get back in time. So I ran and forgot my weak legs, and Cavalier heard me coming and turned round and whinnied. He was all alone now because the other ponies had been in for the Riding Class, and he was eager to be off. I untied him and tightened his girths, and we cantered at his lovely slow canter back to the ring.
Of course there had really been heaps of time. The Hedgers Green Temperance Band was only just getting into its place and chairs were still being arranged in the middle of the ring.
The cousins rode up to me. Blackbird and Hesperus in their rosettes looked very grand. Guy said, ‘I shouldn’t have known that pony,’ and Martin said, ‘I wish we’d kept him,’ and Camilla said, ‘He looks all right but a bit rough. It was sporting of you to enter, for I don’t suppose he can do a thing.’
Camilla and I are fated to disagree. I said, ‘Why not?’
‘Well, he’s never been schooled,’ said Camilla. ‘He was in a milk cart when Daddy bought him. Hesperus was schooled at one of the best places in England.’
‘Well, Cavalier was schooled in our orchard,’ said I.
‘By you, I suppose,’ said Camilla, and she laughed contemptuously.
Guy said, ‘My dear girl, any fool could ride a perfectly schooled pony,’ and Camilla went red and had opened her mouth to answer him when the band s
truck up a loud hearty tune. We all rode one after another into the ring.
‘SCHOOLED AT ONE OF THE BEST PLACES IN ENGLAND’
I was just behind Camilla. In spite of having been schooled at the best place in England, Hesperus was very excited and kicked out every time that he got near the Hedgers Green Temperance Band. I was thinking how much better behaved Cavalier was and what fun it would be if Camilla was out first and Cavalier won, when suddenly I saw that the pony in front of me had swung round and the girl, who was riding it, had dismounted and was rushing towards the chairs. I threw myself off and rushed too, but of course I was much too late. In the chair that I rushed to, Camilla was sitting, and on her face was a smug triumphant smile. I was out first, and I supposed it served me right for having had that spiteful thought about Camilla.
‘COUSIN AGNES SAID SOMETHING TACTFUL’
Cavalier and I rode sorrowfully out of the ring while band kept on playing ‘Land of Hope and Glory,’ which didn’t suit our feelings at all. Mummy and Cousin Agnes were at the entrance to the ring, and Mummy said hadn’t I heard the music stop? and then I realised that I hadn’t, and that Miss Pringle had some excuse for saying that I was the most inattentive child she had come across in forty years of teaching.
‘CAMILLA STAYED IN TO THE END’
Cousin Agnes said something tactful about better luck next time, and I said nothing, but watched the rest of the Musical Chairs, which took ages. Guy and Martin came out quite soon, but Camilla stayed in to the end, and was only just beaten by a girl with plaits, who looked very attentive. The next event was the Costume Race. You had to ride from one end of the ring to the other, where a fancy dress for each person was laid on the ground. You had to put the dress on and gallop back, and we were to ride in heats of three.
I was in a heat with Camilla and the girl with plaits, who had won Musical Chairs. As soon as we were started I got in front of Camilla because Hesperus was bucking, but the girl in plaits had got a good start too. We rode neck and neck up to the costumes and I got off and shook mine out. It was a black and white pierrot’s dress in two pieces. I scrambled into the trousers and then pulled the jumper on. It was awfully tight and I got stuck in it. I waved my arms wildly and there was a loud crack and the neck split and it went on. Cavalier had stood beautifully in spite of my waving arms, and as I mounted I saw that Camilla was absolutely stuck in the jumper of a Red Indian suit; she was much too fat ever to get it on. As soon as I touched the saddle, Cavalier swerved round and I saw that the girl with plaits had mounted too. She was dressed in a bodice and skirt. We rode back neck and neck, as we had come, and Cavalier laid his ears back and fairly galloped. I did feel proud of him. I wasn’t sure who had won, and I didn’t like to ask, but the girl with plaits did, and the judges said that I had and that I would have to ride again.
THE COSTUME RACE
So I stayed by the entrance and watched the next heat to see whom I should have to ride against. Guy and Martin hadn’t entered for this race, nor had the Polite Boy. There was a girl with red hair and spectacles, and a girl with corkscrew curls, whom everybody hated, and a boy of about thirteen. Corkscrew Curls couldn’t manage her pony, and when the others were struggling into their costumes it was still playing up in the middle of the ring. Red Hair got her spectacles torn off by the Red Indian costume and she was still crawling about looking for them when the boy rode in. I must say I felt sorry for her. I have never had spectacles, but I can guess what a nuisance they must be.
So I had to ride against the boy. I could see before I started that I had got to have the Red Indian suit, and for once in my life I was glad that I am small for my age. I got a better start than the boy and I pulled the trousers on quite quickly, but as soon as I had got that beastly Red Indian jumper over my head I felt sure that I was beaten. I couldn’t get my head through the neck or my second arm through the sleeve, and, though I struggled and struggled, nothing split; the beastly thing was far too strongly sewn. I felt absolutely imprisoned and half-suffocated too, and then the worst happened. I felt a tug at the reins, which were over my arm, and Cavalier began to move. I tore the jumper off, meaning to calm him and then try again, and, as I tugged it over my head, I looked hastily at the boy. I had expected to see him mounted or half-way across the ring, but instead of that he was still struggling with the pierrot costume. He had got the top on but couldn’t get the trousers over his feet. I suppose he wasn’t good at standing on one leg.
‘YOUR PONY GALLOP’
I shrieked at Cavalier to stand and had another try at the jumper. This time I was lucky. My head and arms shot through. I mounted, and the boy mounted at the same time and the ponies bounded forward together. I must say the boy was much better than me at mounting. I think I mounted from the wrong side; I hadn’t got my right foot in the stirrup; I was absolutely on Cavalier’s neck, and my reins were all anyhow. I didn’t bother about my stirrup but I just shrieked something – I don’t know what – to Cavalier, and he laid his ears back again and simply galloped. For a moment we were neck and neck, and then I saw to my joy that Cavalier was drawing ahead. We flashed past the judges and pulled up about ten yards beyond the entrance to the ring. At least I did, because, though Cavalier is a bit hard-mouthed after the milk cart, he is always very obliging. The boy went half-way across the field before he could stop his pony. Then he trotted back, and as he passed he said to me, ‘Your pony can gallop.’
THE APPLE AND BUCKET RACE
I felt very proud of Cavalier then. My face got hot and I thought it was probably getting red too, so I leaned forward on Cavalier’s neck to hide it. No one likes to be seen blushing. His neck was lovely and warm and had that beautiful smell of horse which makes you ache inside when you are away at school and you happen to pass a tradesman’s pony.
When my face was all right again I sat up, and I saw the cousins coming towards me. Guy called out, ‘Jolly good, Jean,’ and Martin said, ‘You looked as if you were winning the Derby.’ Camilla said, ‘It’s all very well for you. You’re small, but that Red Indian suit wouldn’t go on me. It wasn’t fair.’ She looked very cross and was making scolding noises at Hesperus.
‘A LITTLE SQUEAKY BOY CALLED ANTHONY JOHN’
Guy said in a babyish voice, ‘Boo-hoo. It wasn’t fair,’ and Martin said to me, ‘Don’t mind her. She wants her bottle.’ They do tease Camilla, but I expect it is good for her. It would not be true kindness to let her grow up into the sort of person who, when she doesn’t win things, says that her muscles aren’t working or that it wasn’t fair.
The next event was the Apple and Bucket. My needle had quite gone now and I was enjoying myself awfully. The other children had all become quite friendly – I suppose that they were getting used to me – and somehow I had stopped fussing about being in time or doing the wrong thing. There were three heats in the Apple and Bucket and four people rode each time. The cousins had all entered but not Red Hair, because of her spectacles, or the Polite Boy, because he had a plate that he wasn’t allowed to take out even for a minute, or Corkscrew Curls, because her mother was afraid that if she got her hair wet she would have a cold.
In the first heat Martin beat the girl in plaits and the boy whom I had ridden against in the Costume Race and the sister of the Polite Boy. In the second heat Guy beat Camilla and a nearly grown-up boy and the elder of two very pale girls, whom everybody called ‘The White Mice.’
I had to ride against the younger White Mouse and the Polite Boy’s other sister, and a tiny little squeaky boy called Anthony John. You had to ride across the ring to your bucket and dismount, and get the apple out with your teeth and give it to your pony and ride back again.
‘THE WHITE MICE RODE VERY CORRECTLY’
Anthony John’s pony refused to budge, but the rest of us got away together, and we all dismounted at the same time and plumped down on our knees in front of our buckets. My apple was a lovely round rosy one and it bobbed on the water most invitingly. I made a snap at it with my teeth, but they
only gnashed together and the apple swam tantalisingly away. So then I tried ferrying it with my nose towards the side of the bucket. I must have sniffed, because suddenly water went up my nose and I started coughing and spluttering. I sat back on my heels to cough, and saw that the White Mouse had got her apple out and was giving it to her pony. Then she mounted neatly and correctly and cantered slowly and correctly home.
The Polite Boy’s sister and I went on trying to get our apples till a whistle blew and the judges waved to us. I said to the Polite Boy’s sister, ‘Can we take our apples?’ and she said, ‘I should think so,’ so we took them out with our hands and gave them to our ponies before we mounted. I couldn’t resist taking a bite out of mine before I gave it to Cavalier; it looked so red and juicy. The people in the crowd laughed at me, and the Polite Boy’s sister did too.
Martin won the final heat of the Apple and Bucket, so now he had got one first prize, and Guy one, and Camilla had two seconds. The girl with plaits had the first for Musical Chairs, but the poor Polite Boy had only a third for riding, and, as he had been so nice to me and had a plate, I did hope that he would win something. He showed me his plate while we were waiting for the Bending, and Red Hair, whose name was Judy, let me try on her spectacles. They made everything look rather fascinating – tiny and far away.
‘THE MOST MUTTON-FISTED GIRL I HAVE EVER SEEN’
When I saw the posts going up for the Bending I did wish that I had practised it more, and I must say I thought unkindly of Daddy and Mrs Beazley. Guy won the first heat riding against Red Hair, and Camilla won the second, riding against the girl in plaits. Then the Polite Boy beat the elder White Mouse and one of his sisters beat the other White Mouse. The White Mice rode very correctly, but they looked as though they had swallowed pokers, and they couldn’t hurry. Then it was my turn to ride against Corkscrew Curls.
A Pony for Jean Page 8