A Pony for Jean

by Joanna Cannan

  Corkscrew Curls had a very lightly-built chestnut pony. He looked as though he would bend beautifully, but though Corkscrew Curls was small and had tiny hands, she was the most mutton-fisted girl I have ever seen riding. She dragged at that poor pony’s mouth and did nothing with her knees or her body, and Cavalier won the heat at his calm slow canter. Then Guy beat Camilla and the Polite Boy beat his sister and I had to ride against Guy, and my needle came back as bad as ever.

  Blackbird is a very clever pony, but he is much more heavily built than Cavalier – more of a cob – and I did feel that Cavalier would have had a chance if it hadn’t been for his rider. So I thought I would leave him alone as far as possible. We had to ride out – between the poles, of course, – and then turn and come back again. I didn’t hurry him on the way out, but, as he turned, I gave him a little kick, and at the same time he saw that Blackbird was in front of him. He laid back his ears and simply tore between the poles; though he was racing so, he seemed to know quite well that he must go between them. Blackbird was going beautifully but he hasn’t the same kind of dashingness that Cavalier has. Honestly I think that in spite of the milk-cart and everything, Cavalier is the better bred pony, and as Farmer Higgins said to me once, ‘A drop of blood is worth a ton of bone.’ Anyhow, he beat Blackbird by a short head, and now there was only the Polite Boy to cope with.

  As I had won against Guy, I expected to win against the Polite Boy, but you do not always get what you expect, especially in gymkhanas. The Polite Boy had a very smart bay mare, whose name was Melody. His mother is musical and his sisters’ ponies have musical names too: one is called Music and the other Gay Tune. Well, we started together and we turned together, and when we were coming back and I saw Cavalier lay his ears back and felt him lengthen his stride under me, I felt sure we were winning. We were actually ahead at the third pole, but as we passed it I touched it with my toe, and it went skew-wiff, and I knew, of course, that we were disqualified. As I pulled Cavalier up I could have kicked myself. It did seem awful that I had let him down when he had been so keen and clever.

  ‘IT DID SEEM AWFUL THAT I HAD LET CAVALIER DOWN’

  Still, we were second and I had a blue rosette now to tie on his headband with the red one. I was tying it on when Mummy came up to me. She said, ‘You have done well. I never expected you to win anything.’ I never know what to say when people say things like that, so I just grunted. Then Mummy said, ‘Well, you’ve finished now, but I suppose we shall have to wait for the prize-giving.’ I said, ‘Good gracious, yes,’ and I thought how awful it would have been if I hadn’t got a prize and had been made to go home before the jumping. Grown-ups are funny. They will leave the most exciting scenes just to go home to dinner.

  For some time I had been too busy to think about the jumping, so now, while the Handy Hunter competition was going on, I began to plan how to get into the ring without being stopped by Mummy. I didn’t watch the Handy Hunter at all, and the first thing I knew about it was when Guy and Camilla came out of the ring with furious faces, and Guy said to me, ‘Camilla thinks herself perfect and won’t listen to anyone. Will you partner me at the next gymkhana?’ I was awfully pleased and I said, ‘Yes, of course, if you want me to.’ I never heard what Camilla had done but she must have messed things up somehow. Although I was too busy thinking to watch, I heard afterwards that the Handy Hunter was won by the two White Mice, who are slow but sure, which, as long as you are not too slow, is a good thing to be in that kind of competition.

  Well, the White Mice came out of the ring and Mummy was still standing near me, so I muttered something about looking at the jumps and rode off at a canter. Some men had begun to carry the jumps into the ring, but I stayed where I was and kept my eye on Mummy. Presently to my joy I saw her move away from the entrance to the ring and start talking to someone. Taking cover behind some ponies and people I walked Cavalier up near enough to hear my number when it was shouted.

  Guy went into the ring first. There was a bush jump and then a stile, and then a bar, and then a wall, and then a pair of hurdles. The bush looked very solid and high and I had never tried Cavalier over such a high wall or hurdles. I thought that the wall would certainly finish us, even if we got over the others.

  Blackbird was rather excited and I think Guy had a job to hold him. But he looked as though he meant to jump and he did, till he got to the wall, where he ran out twice and then refused suddenly and Guy shot off and over the wall, and landed on his bowler. He got up and there was an enormous dent in his bowler, but he hadn’t let go of the reins, which I am sure I should have. He remounted and rode back grinning.

  Martin went in next, and Red Knight touched the brush and knocked off the top bar of the stile. When he came to the wall, he ran out and then refused it, and finally went over. He jumped the bar but refused three times at the hurdles. It was very annoying for Guy and Martin as neither Blackbird nor Red Knight ever refuse anything reasonable when they are out hunting.

  The Polite Boy went next. He did a clear round except for knocking the top of the wall off. The eldest White Mouse did a clear round, looking very calm and sitting up as straight as a poker.

  Then my number was called. I rode into the ring at a canter because of Mummy.

  As I rode in I listened, expecting to hear a shriek of ‘Jean,’ which I should have to pretend not to hear, like Nelson; but as soon as I saw the tall dark bush jump I forgot all about Mummy. I let Cavalier canter towards it and then, when I thought we were near enough, I collected him, as the books call it, and his ears went forward and I let him go and we were over. We cantered on and went at the stile and the bar in the same way and he jumped them both beautifully. Then I saw that awful wall looming ahead of us. It was only painted plywood, of course, but it did look grim, I must say. Cavalier looked at it and he felt rather doubtful under me, so I sat very tight and pressed hard with my knees as I collected him, and I tried to feel very determined. It had the right effect for I felt him gather himself together and go at it – I expect you know the feeling though I can’t describe it properly. He jumped it easily and went on a bit faster than I meant him to, but I let him go and we simply flew over the hurdles. I heard clapping and cheering and I realised that he had done a clear round – the poor thin pony that had been bought out of kindness and called The Toastrack.

  ‘THEN HE TRIED REARING’

  I rode out of the ring and patted him madly. Then I saw Mummy.

  ‘Jean?’ she said. ‘Are you quite potty? You know we never entered you for the jumping.’

  I said, ‘I knew he could do it. I felt it in my bones, and I made a late entry.’

  ‘You did, did you?’ said Mummy, and she said, ‘Well, you might have told me. I missed your first jump and then I thought it must be your double. And there’s another thing. Where did you get the money?’

  I said, ‘Oh, look, Camilla’s jumping.’ That was tact. I must say that tact is sometimes very useful.

  Mummy said no more but looked at Camilla. I did too. Hesperus was being awful. He danced about for a long time, mostly backwards, and then he tried rearing and then bucking. Camilla stayed on marvellously – I am sure he would have had me off in a minute – and she did get him over the bush and the bar, but when he got to the wall he simply wouldn’t do anything. It was difficult to know what was dancing and what was refusing, but presently the judges waved her off and she came cantering back, looking furious. I heard her scolding Hesperus and telling him that he was a beastly bad-mannered pony.

  There were only four more people to jump now – the girl with plaits and the younger White Mouse and the Polite Boy’s two sisters. Red Hair and Corkscrew Curls and Anthony John weren’t jumping because their mothers wouldn’t let them, and the nearly grown-up boy was too old, and the boy of thirteen said that his pony wouldn’t jump, but everybody said that it was really because he was nervous. Plaits did quite well, but her pony touched the top of the wall and refused once at the hurdles, and the younger White Mouse fell o
ff at the wall – if you could call it falling off; she fell with such dignity that you felt you ought to call it descending. The Polite Boy’s sisters each had two refusals. They rode awfully well but I thought their ponies had been oated up too much; they were beautiful ponies but very excitable and difficult. When the last one came out of the ring I had a final and frightful attack of needle. Only the elder White Mouse and I had done clear rounds and I knew that I had got to jump again against her.

  It seemed ages before anything happened. The judges stood about fatly, looking at their notebooks. I am sure they would have hurried up a bit if they had known what agony I was in. The elder White Mouse sat calmly on her pony. She looked what books call a formidable adversary. I felt hot and untidy. My slide had fallen out ages ago and my hair was all over my face, and my jersey was out at the back and wouldn’t stay in whatever I did to it. My belt had worked up miles above the top of my jodhpurs and it felt very uncomfortable. But the White Mouse looked as if she had just dressed. Her tie was quite straight and her pale hair just showed under her bowler. Her jodhpurs were neither too big nor too small for her – most people’s are one or the other – and her socks had stayed up and, though she had a riding coat on and you couldn’t see, you knew that her blouse, or whatever it was, was tucked in neatly. Her pony was hogged and its tail had been pulled like a hunter’s. It really seemed quite impossible that Cavalier and I could beat her.

  ‘WE GOT OVER THE BAR’

  At last the judges decided to do something. They walked over to the wall and two men carrying bricks followed them. They lifted the wall up and put the bricks under it. Then they went on and put the bar higher. Then they came back to where they had stood before and called the White Mouse’s number.

  The White Mouse was ready. She trotted into the ring and one of the judges stopped her and said something. It was to explain that she was only to jump the wall and the bar. She put her pony at the wall and he went over perfectly, but when he jumped the bar he just touched it. That was only half a fault and I felt sure I couldn’t do better.

  The White Mouse rode in. She didn’t look either pleased or disappointed. It must be lovely to have a face like that, at any rate for gymkhanas.

  My number was called and I rode in, and one of the judges said something. I said, ‘What?’ It was only to tell me not to jump anything but the wall and bar, which I knew already. Cavalier and I cantered across to the wall and I steadied him and put him at it. He sailed over it. Everyone clapped and I am afraid that Cavalier thinks too much of claps, for he gave a gay little kick-out just for swank, and simply flew on. I had a job to steady him. We got over the bar with something to spare and cantered back to the entrance. There was a lot of clapping, and Mummy and Cousin Agnes and Guy and Martin, and even Camilla, rushed up and said things like ‘Well done!’ and ‘Splendid.’

  ‘THE SMART PONIES HAD THEIR RUGS PUT ON’

  I was awfully pleased that Cavalier had won but it was dreadful to realise that the gymkhana was over.

  We talked for a bit and then we rode across the field to the railing and tied up our ponies and loosened their girths, of course. The smart ponies had their rugs put on, and it did seem rather awful that I hadn’t one for Cavalier when he had beaten them all in the jumping. Then we went back and stood by the Secretary’s tent for the prize-giving.

  The prizes were laid out on a table. There were one or two silver cups and there were riding sticks, both hunting crops and switches. There was a pair of yellow riding gloves, and there were books about riding and a martingale and some silver pencils. The prizes were to be given away by a lady whose photograph I had seen in the Tatler at the dentist’s. The writing under the photograph described her as ‘the fastest woman over timber in Leicestershire.’ I looked at her with awe and admiration.

  Guy got a silver cup for the riding class, and Camilla got a riding switch. She wasn’t at all grateful but said that she had four already. The Polite Boy got a silver pencil. Camilla got a book as her second prize for Musical Chairs. I thought it looked nice, but Camilla said she didn’t want to stay indoors reading. I was looking at Camilla’s book when I heard my name simply roared out and somebody pushed me forwards. I dropped Camilla’s book on the ground and she said, ‘Don’t throw my prize about,’ very crossly. I stooped to pick it up, but somebody gave me another push and there I was at the prize table.

  ‘THE FASTEST WOMAN OVER TIMBER IN LEICESTERSHIRE’

  The fastest woman over timber in Leicestershire was holding out a lovely hunting crop and saying that she didn’t think my pony needed it, but it would be useful for opening gates with. I took it, and it was so lovely that I nearly forgot to say thank you. In fact I had to turn back to say it and it came out very loud and everyone laughed at me. But nobody sensible minds being laughed at.

  While the Apple and Bucket people were getting their prizes I made up my mind to attend and be ready when my name was called for the jumping prize, but I forgot that that there was my second prize for Bending to come first, and I nearly jumped out of my wits when I was called quite soon. The fastest woman over timber handed me the pair of yellow riding gloves and she said rather feebly that she hoped they would fit me. I suppose that by this time she was running out of things to say. It must be very difficult to think of short yet suitable remarks for everyone and I hope that I shall never have to give away prizes. I don’t suppose I shall, as I am never likely to be the fastest woman over timber anywhere.

  I was pleased with my yellow gloves. All winter I had worn a pair of babyish white woolly ones, the sort you like when you are very young because you think they are like rabbits or lambs. I don’t really bother much about clothes, but I had often thought how awful it would be if I was out hacking and met the hounds. I should not dare to follow even a yard in fluffy white gloves. The books say that to wear the wrong clothes when you are riding to hounds is disrespectful to the Master. Now my gloves and my crop would be respectful, whatever my jersey was.

  When the prizes for the Handy Hunter had been given, I went up for the jumping prize. It was a silver cup, a lovely fat one on a black stand. I was pleased. I gave it to Mummy, because I always drop things, and also because I wanted to clap the White Mouse, who was given a martingale.

  Mummy was pleased too. She kept on saying, ‘What will Daddy say?’ She was so pleased that she didn’t think again about the five shillings, and I hoped that Daddy wouldn’t think of it either, but I felt doubtful. Men are more apt to think about paying for things.

  ‘I WAS PLEASED WITH MY YELLOW GLOVES’

  Well, Mummy went home in the cousins’ car and I rode back on Cavalier. As soon as we were by ourselves I sang songs of triumph to him, mostly out of the ‘Lays of Ancient Rome.’ The sun was setting over the hills and everything looked very pretty. But I did wish that there was another gymkhana the next day.

  When we got home Daddy was already there, but Mummy had been most sporting and had not told him anything. She had hidden the prizes inside her coat when she walked in. I told him all about it and, while I was unsaddling, he went to the ‘Dog and Duck’ and bought a bottle of wine. It was white wine. I did not like it much but it looked very gay.

  I gave Cavalier a huge feed of oats and two cooking apples. I put the cup on the mantelpiece in my bedroom and arranged the gloves and the hunting crop on my chair. They stayed there, looking lovely, for a week, and my clothes went on the floor.

  VII

  THE morning after the gymkhana was dreadfully dull and everybody seemed rather bad-tempered. The puppies were very naughty. They pulled Mummy’s best stockings down from the clothes line and chewed them to ribbons. They were the last of the stockings she had bought in the days when we were rich, but I didn’t know that so I laughed, and she was annoyed with me. I didn’t go out riding because I thought that Cavalier looked tired, but I think he was really bored; he hung his head over the gate and whinnied whenever I went by. I went by a lot as there didn’t seem to be anything to do, so I just wandered
about. Then Mummy said that if I couldn’t find anything to do she would give me something. That is an awful threat, because if grown-ups find you something to do, it is always something beastly, like tidying your cupboard or shelling peas. I hastened away and soon I thought of something – a fancy dress party in honour of Cavalier.

  I couldn’t buy anything for my party because I had no money, and, even if I had had any, it would have belonged by law to Guy. But I had three bulls-eyes, so I persuaded Mrs Beazley to let me boil them on the kitchen fire, and I made bulls-eye tea. I also fried some bread for the people who like eating better than drinking, and I got six lumps of sugar out of the dining-room sugar basin, only Mrs Beazley put them back again. However, my bantam (not Flora Macdonald, who scarcely ever lays, but Henrietta Maria) had laid an egg, so I scrambled that, and put everything in the oven to keep hot. Mrs Beazley was rather cross because I had used two saucepans and a frying pan and two basins and a fork and a spoon, so I couldn’t do any more cooking, but I had already spent two hours over it, so perhaps that was as well. I told her not to open the oven and went upstairs to see to the fancy dresses.

  I expect you can guess who the people at the party were. There was Cavalier and Shadow and Sally and the four puppies and my bantam cock, who is called Charles Edward, and Flora Macdonald and Henrietta Maria, Shadow wore my pyjama jacket and a silly sort of muffler that I had had in London, and Sally wore my pyjama case, which I tied round her with my dressing-gown girdle to look like a skirt. On her top part she wore one of Daddy’s coloured handkerchiefs to look like a shawl. The puppies were rather difficult because they were small and squirmed. The girls wore shawls, which were more of Daddy’s handkerchiefs, and the boys just wore belts off bathing dresses – Mummy’s and mine. I took Daddy’s bathing wrap, which was made of orange towelling, for Cavalier.