Love, Sweat and Tears

by Zelie Bullen

  Mario was quite athletic for a man in his fifties, he had a lovely warm smile and was very charming. He said I could sit a riding test with him and, if he thought I was good enough, he would let me stay and work there on a two-year apprenticeship. What he offered was a deal similar to that found in some training facilities in America: you are paid a basic wage for two years and, if you are used on camera or as a wrangler or a groom on a movie, he takes half of your fee. If you stick out the two years, you then become one of his stunt people, in which case you no longer receive a wage but you get to keep any money you make from films and live shows, and you aren’t necessarily expected to turn up each day to do the chores.

  I explained that I couldn’t start an apprenticeship straightaway, as I was presently working as a polo groom. Mario said that was fine but I should still come back and do the test; if I was successful, I could start after the polo season finished. So I organised a date to sit the test.

  I was a bit nervous before the test as I really had no idea what I was about to be put through. When I arrived, everybody stopped working and came to watch. Fadila, Mario’s secretary, came out of the office with her assistant; her toddler was running around the place. Two of Mario’s top riders, Leslie and Joelle, had come to watch with some friends of theirs who happened to be visiting. All the grooms and some of the stuntmen had come in for the day because they had heard that some girl from Australia was having a riding test. There were around twenty people along the edge of the ménage.

  One of the grooms brought out a beautiful white Andalusian horse and Mario told me to ride it. As I rode his horse around him, he started telling me in his strong accent to do various things. I could barely understand a word and kept saying, ‘Pardon?’

  He became visibly upset, and started to shout. ‘Oh, you can’t hear me! You can’t hear me? You stupid or something?’

  I couldn’t understand what had happened. He had been so charming before the test and now he was like a different person.

  ‘I said, “Trot.” You know the trot—you go up and down, up and down.’

  I was thinking ‘Shit! What have I done?’ But I trotted the horse.

  ‘Can you hear me?’ he shouted. ‘I said, “Canter”—you know, faster than a trot.’

  When I rode towards him, I was almost too scared to look in his eyes. My heart was pounding and I tried not to look at all the people watching as he screamed at me, humiliating me.

  I was starting to wonder if this was some sort of sick joke. Then I stopped the horse in front of him and he asked me to fall his horse. Again I said, ‘Pardon?’ I had never fallen a horse before. I had lain horses down, but not fallen one from the saddle. To fall a horse is when the rider, from the saddle, asks the horse to drop to the ground and lie on its side. It is one of the most common advance horse stunts used in performances, film and TV.

  ‘Can you fall a horse, or not?’ he demanded.

  ‘No, I’ve never done that.’

  ‘You a stuntwoman, yes? You a stuntwoman, and what you do on a horse—you jump off it?’ He was becoming increasingly aggressive. ‘Get off my horse before you break it.’

  I dismounted, nearly in tears.

  ‘You are not strong enough for here, are you?’ he snapped.

  ‘I think I am.’

  ‘You look upset.’

  I was almost too scared to say anything, but managed to get out, ‘I don’t know why you’re yelling at me.’

  ‘Because you can’t ride for shit. You have a good seat, but that is all, you cannot ride. You ride like a stupid American cowboy rider.’ He then yelled in French to one of the girls. I asked him what he would like me to do, and he said for me to wait while they got another horse.

  Another beautiful horse arrived, a bay this time, and Mario told me to get on and do what I was told.

  Following his instructions as best I could, I trotted the horse, cantered the horse, warmed it up, then stopped it in front of him when he finally asked me to.

  ‘Right. Now lean down, grab the rein, pull and the horse will fall down. When he starts to fall, position yourself so you don’t get caught under.’

  I made a hesitant attempt and the horse didn’t go down. Mario yelled at me, saying the horse didn’t understand what I wanted—do it properly! I made about three more attempts with Mario screaming at me, and then the horse finally responded and went down onto the ground. I thought, ‘OK, that was different.’

  Mario looked at me. ‘You have something I can work with,’ he said. ‘Yes, you can come, but you are shit.’ And with that, he walked away and the tryout was over.

  I left Mario’s that day not really knowing how to feel about the whole experience. When I told Mark, Zahra and Lydia about it that night, I concluded, ‘It’s a very strange place.’

  For the next few weeks, Lydia and I worked together to get Mark’s polo ponies ready for the season. But during the first game he played, a warm-up match, Mark’s horse slipped and fell over and Mark broke his collarbone. While he went off to hospital, Lydia and I were left wondering what was going to happen to our jobs.

  The next day, Mark called us into his office and said that he now didn’t have enough work for both of us, but that he wanted one of us to stay to look after the horses through spring and summer. Mark is very non-confrontational; he suggested we have a think about it and work out between ourselves who would stay and who would go.

  I said to Lydia that obviously she should stay, because it was her job in the first place, but she said, ‘He’s going to want you.’ I asked if she wanted to stay, but she wasn’t sure. I wanted to go to Mario’s to learn more, so for that reason I really wanted to stay on.

  So I said to Lyd, ‘I would like to stay,’ and she said, ‘Fine, I knew you’d want to.’

  Then she said, ‘Mum’s coming and we’re going to tour Europe.’

  ‘Wow, that’s cool,’ I enthused. ‘I want to do that.’

  ‘Well, you’re not—you’re staying and working horses,’ she retorted. So she got her own back, and thankfully we stayed friends.

  CHAPTER 26

  Mario

  I was wildly excited about working with Mario, but I was worried about the rumours I was hearing about him expecting female staff to sleep with him, so before I started working there I asked to meet with him to discuss it face to face. We met at his stables and he suggested we go for a ride together in the forest while we finalised my working arrangements.

  One of the grooms saddled two horses and we rode off side by side; he beckoned me over so that our horses were almost touching. He reached across and put his hand on my leg. I looked at him, wondering how I was going to say this. All of our communications to date had been difficult. He had such a strong accent and he could be difficult and rude. I knew I needed to be very clear and blunt.

  ‘Mario, I need to talk to you about something,’ I said slowly and carefully. ‘Please excuse me if you find this rude, but there is an issue that is bothering me and I need to clarify it before I start to work with you. I have heard that if any woman wants to work at your farm, then you expect to have sex with them.’

  He laughed; he said he thought that rumour was very funny.

  ‘I need you to know that I am not here for sex,’ I continued.

  He laughed again in a teasing way and asked, ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because I know.’ I laughed, feeling slightly embarrassed.

  ‘How can you say what’s going to happen in the future? Why put limitations on your future?’ he demanded.

  ‘I want to know if I can still work here if I do not sleep with you,’ I said awkwardly.

  ‘Of course,’ he said, with what seemed an exaggerated French accent. He looked at me intently. ‘Are you gay? A lesbian?’

  ‘No, Mario, I’m not.’

  ‘Are you married?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘In a relationship?’

  ‘No, Mario—I’m just not interested in having sex with you.’

 
; Still laughing, he told me there was something wrong with me.

  After that discussion I naively thought I was safe. He began to introduce me to people as ‘Zelie No Sex’. They would all laugh and I’d be a little embarrassed, but I also felt quite proud as well. It would be very clear to the entire yard that I was not sleeping with Mario.

  I got along very well with all the team and moved into a beautiful empty castle where Mark and Zahra were now accommodating me, and Mark’s polo ponies were being spelled. I had a fridge and a bed, and Zahra brought me a stray kitten from the vet’s to keep me company. I checked Mark’s horses every day and still drove their car. Mark’s horses were turned out in the paddocks around the castle, but I was having terrible trouble with the flies, which were so bad that some horses were losing weight as a result of the constant irritation, so I had to treat the horses each day with an insecticide and make sure they were comfortable.

  The very first day I worked for Mario, he insisted I have dinner at his home that night, a celebratory dinner to welcome me. Above the ménage was one big open room, with a large kitchen area and an enormous central fireplace surrounded by a circular lounge draped in gorgeous fabrics and cushions. There was a huge dining table that sat twelve, and a steep staircase that rose above the kitchen and led up to a spacious bedroom. He proudly showed me everything, including the bedroom; he wanted me to go in there, but I made sure I only looked in from the top of the stairs.

  All four of his femmes were present at our dinner. Mario was not legally married to any of them and I found the dynamics incredible. Three of his women lived on the estate. Joelle, who was his number one lady, was an incredible horse rider and stuntwoman; she lived above the stables in beautiful accommodation, kept warm by the heat rising from the horses stabled underneath. Leslie appeared to be the number two; she was very friendly and helpful to me, and was also an accomplished horsewoman and performer; she lived in a beautiful place at the end of the stables. Fadila, the secretary, seemed to be his third woman. A fourth girlfriend, Kathy, lived off the premises.

  I found it a bit confronting, but the women themselves seemed more than comfortable with the situation. When I arrived, all four of them were preparing dinner for him, cleaning, having a glass of wine and chatting. When we sat down at the table, Mario sat at the head, with Joelle on his right; Leslie sat on his left, with Kathy on her other side. Fadila sat next to Joelle, and I was seated beside Fadila.

  Mario was amused by my obvious shock, and lapped it up. He proclaimed, ‘I am a king! I am a king, no?’ The women were laughing and rolling their eyes and going along with it. He was saying, ‘I have what every man wants—happiness, beautiful horses, beautiful women, freedom, money, fame. Those who say they don’t want this are liars—they are too scared to admit the truth.’

  I asked him, ‘Do you mean every man wants more than one woman?’ and he said ‘Yes, of course.’ And he laughed.

  I never knew what was going on at Mario’s place from one day to the next. I would turn up at work sometimes and think I must be late, because there were horses saddled up everywhere. The stuntmen would be helping prepare the horses, grooming them, painting their hooves with hoof oil, plaiting up the manes and tails elaborately and putting costumes on themselves and the horses. I’d find someone who could speak English and ask them what was happening. They would explain that Mario had some producers coming that day, which would happen regularly, and it would be a show-and-tell—rehearsing for a job, performing some jousting or a battle scene, or giving a dressage demonstration, or maybe one of the producers wanted to ride on one of Mario’s magnificent stallions.

  His estate was located in the most beautiful setting. Sometimes we would exercise the horses in the forest; it was an amazing experience to be out in that beautiful forest with all of those superb horses. I usually couldn’t understand a word anyone was saying, but I didn’t care—I just felt lucky to be there.

  Thursday was the biggest day of the week, because it was stable cleaning day. First of all, the horse was led out. Three people were needed to clean out each stable, each person using a pitchfork to drag out the wet, sour, stinking straw. The alleyways of the stable complexes were wide enough to take a tractor with its trailer. Each stable was cleaned out and lime was then sprinkled over the floor; finally a deep bed of fresh straw would be laid over it, of which the horses promptly ate half when they were returned. Each day fresh straw was spread over the top of the old, but all of it was removed every Thursday—seven days’ worth. The cobblestone floors outside gave the stables a wonderful old-fashioned look, but were a lot of extra work for the grooms to sweep by hand. All in all, keeping the place clean was a very big job and we all worked hard.

  In July Mario sent me away to work on a medieval film for four days with Joelle and a couple of the stuntmen. When we weren’t busy I would go and talk to her. She told me that Mario had high hopes for me, and that he had been waiting many years for someone like me to come along. This not only meant a lot to me, but it explained why he was putting more time into my training than that of the other girls. Mario gave me a lesson every day, unless he was too busy with meetings or entertaining producers or directors. I learnt more from him about classical dressage than I had learnt from anyone else. But I felt a bit of resentment from a couple of the female grooms who had been there longer than me but who weren’t getting the lessons that I was. They were fine with me socially, but at work I started to feel tension. And even though I kept him at arm’s length, Mario continued to flirt with me. I thought he was just having fun.

  CHAPTER 27

  Journey to Switzerland

  One day in early August, Mario came up to me and said, ‘Tomorrow, when you come into work, you bring enough clothes for three days—I’m taking you to Switzerland for a job.’ I was very excited and asked what the job was. All he said was, ‘You must fall off Emilio,’ referring to a beautiful chestnut stunt horse.

  When I arrived at work the following day, my bags packed, Chino—Mario’s right-hand man, who was always very good to me—started revving me up by saying how fantastic it was for me to be doing my first solo stunt job with Mario. He told me Emilio had gone ahead in a trailer with a couple of grooms the day before; Mario and I were going to Switzerland on the fast train, a five-hour trip.

  Mario and I drove in his car to the enormous Gare de l’Est train station in Paris. Just walking from the car park to the platform we were stopped three times by people asking for Mario’s autograph. Up until then I hadn’t realised how famous he was in France. He was very blasé about it—he just signed the autographs and had photos taken with people, and then we moved on.

  When we boarded the train, I found we were alone in a first-class compartment. As the train pulled away, Mario was already trying to flirt with me; then he openly started trying to touch me and, when that didn’t work, he then tried to pin me against the window to kiss me. Initially I ignored his flirting, but eventually I felt embarrassed and had to say, ‘Mario, nothing is going to happen here.’

  Then he became playful. ‘Come on, my darling,’ he said seductively.

  I said firmly, ‘Mario, please, I don’t like this situation. Can you leave me alone.’ I knew I had to be blunt and I felt awkward.

  ‘Fine.’ He got out his newspaper and sat with his legs stretched out across the doorway so I couldn’t get out without walking over him.

  While he read his newspaper, I sat looking out the window and thought, ‘Oh goodness me—the things you get yourself into, Zelie.’

  I was very excited as we crossed into Switzerland. I had grown up listening to Mum’s stories about how beautiful Switzerland was and about her schooling there as a teenager. From the train window I saw storybook farmhouses with steep roofs matching the steep mountains rising up behind them against deep blue skies, a truly beautiful scene. The only thing missing from my Mum’s description of her childhood was the snow. I immersed myself in this picturesque landscape, escaping from the recent scene with Mar
io, finding a way to still thoroughly enjoy the moment.

  Because the job had come up at such short notice I hadn’t told anyone in Australia where I was going, but I couldn’t wait to tell Mum where I had been.

  A driver collected us from the station and took us to our hotel. A bunch of people, including the director, were waiting in the foyer to meet us. Nobody spoke English and I had no idea what they were talking about. They offered me a glass of wine, which I politely refused, and they seemed to talk for a very long time. I was tired and just wanted to go to my room, wherever that was. Eventually Mario gave me my room key and said I could go to my room if I liked.

  Once there, I didn’t know what to do, so I waited in my room in case I was summoned. I couldn’t get the TV to work and had nothing to do, so I started writing on the hotel stationery about what had happened to me throughout the day as a sort of impromptu diary. At about nine o’clock, I had a shower. I didn’t know whether to go to bed or not, or whether I’d be needed for a meeting later on, because the people Mario mixed with all tended to stay up late and then sleep in. I still didn’t know where I had to be in the morning, or at what hour—it was very unsettling.

  At about ten thirty, I finally got into my pyjamas. And then my room phone rang. It was Mario. He simply said, ‘Come to my room.’

  ‘OK, what number is it?’

  It was the room next to mine. I felt I had no choice but to go, because I still had no idea what was happening the next day. I put on a hotel dressing-gown and walked out into the hall.