Jade at the Champs

by Amy Brown

  ‘Dusty looks stunning,’ Jade said, patting his shiny dun neck. ‘Do you reckon we should go and walk the course soon?’

  Becca grimaced. ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Why the long face?’ Michaela said, coming over to them with a body brush in one hand and a stencil cut out with diamond shapes in the other. ‘No, I’m not talking to you, Dusty!’ Michaela grinned at her own terrible joke.

  ‘Nervous,’ Becca said, grimacing.

  ‘Why?’ Michaela asked, deftly holding the stencil against Dusty’s rump and brushing over it sideways. ‘Because it’s such a big competition, and I don’t want to let the team down,’ Becca said.

  ‘You’ve earned your place in the team, Becca; I wouldn’t have chosen you if I didn’t think you and Dusty could manage. There, isn’t that smart?’ Michaela had taken away the stencil, leaving a perfect diamond pattern on the pony’s rump.

  ‘You’re living up to your name, old chap,’ Michaela added as she stencilled his other hindquarter and was met with a small cloud of white dust.

  Becca blushed. ‘Sorry! I thought I’d shampooed that out the day before yesterday, and he’s been wearing his cover since then.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Michaela laughed. ‘Rumps are hard to get completely clean; I’ve seen far worse. Right, I think the junior team’s mounts are looking splendid now, but the riders are very scruffy.’

  Jade and Becca looked at each other. They were both in old track pants and sweatshirts. Jade’s pants were stained with hoof oil and her sleeve had a green smear where Dorian had dribbled chewed chaff this morning. That seemed like a week ago now.

  The girls got changed in Becca’s truck. As Jade was pulling on her new boots — a ‘congratulations’ present from her dad for getting selected for the team — Amanda, Kristen and Corina joined them.

  ‘White jodhpurs make me look so fat,’ Amanda complained, craning around, trying to stare at herself.

  Kristen, who was tying a half-Windsor knot in her navy-blue tie, rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything.

  ‘My feet feel so fat in my boots,’ Becca said, mimicking Amanda’s voice and making Corina laugh.

  ‘It’s true, though,’ Becca said. ‘The boots feel way smaller than when I last wore them.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Becca’s mum asked, tidying away the grooming tools.

  My boots are too small,’ Becca said, in a voice that made her mother sigh deeply.

  ‘I am certain I asked you after the Elsemere Sports Day whether you needed new ones. Remember, you said they were too tight then?’

  Becca grumpily agreed.

  ‘Well, there’s nothing we can do about them now. You’re just going to have to grit your teeth and bear it.’

  Hobbling down to the course, Becca seemed too preoccupied with her feet to admire the beautifully painted jumps. Instead she was peering at the line of stalls selling saddlery, hard feed and back protectors. None of them sold boots.

  ‘Look,’ Jade said, pointing at a pony standing on a low metal platform. ‘I think that’s a big set of scales, for weighing horses.’ She hoped this novelty would distract Becca.

  ‘You can weigh the ponies as much as you like after you’ve each had a clear round,’ Michaela said sternly. ‘Focus on the course for now. You know the deal here? There won’t be a jump-off, so the idea is not only to go clear, but to floor the accelerator, too.’

  They studied the plan of the course, which was tacked to the judges’ truck. ‘It’s long,’ Becca commented. ‘Twelve jumps, including a triple!’

  ‘And twisty,’ Jade added. ‘That turn from four onto five is nasty.’

  Michaela swept their concerns away with a contemptuous wave of her hand. ‘Nothing you can’t manage; this is exactly what we’ve been practising for over the last six weeks. I don’t want to hear any more snivelling. You’re great little riders, with clever ponies, so positive thoughts from here on in.’

  Becca had to stifle a yelp of horror at the first fence, a beautiful 85-centimetre oxer, quite wide and painted black and white. The panel at the front was decorated with musical notes and there was a pot of Buxus beside each of the jump stands.

  ‘It’s like something from the Horse of the Year Show,’ Jade said, trying to sound impressed rather than nervous. ‘Look at the plants!’

  ‘The pot plants are great,’ Michaela said. ‘They act as wings, directing the horse to the centre of the jump. A very inviting first fence, if you ask me.’

  Becca gulped silently as they walked around the rest of the course, following the line that they would aim to ride and measuring the strides with their own paces. Each jump seemed more elaborate than the last, with the final triple having a buzzy-bee theme. Jump C in the triple, a 90-centimetre upright, actually had a large wooden model of a buzzy bee as its filler. Jade and Becca gasped in unison. ‘It’s horrible!’ Becca said.

  ‘Shh, you’ll offend the course designer,’ Michaela scolded.

  ‘But it’s so off-putting,’ Becca argued.

  ‘Not if you think about it in the context of the whole course,’ Michaela reasoned. ‘Look, it’s the last in a triple, so, if you get the stride right at jump A, the rest should be a piece of cake. Dusty will be in the swing of things, hopefully, and will barely even notice the decoration, unless, of course, you get all tense and distract him from his job.’

  ‘Also,’ Jade said, wanting to calm Becca, too, ‘it’s facing the practice arena, so we’ll be jumping towards other horses. If you like, I could stand right there with Dorian.’

  ‘No! You’ll put me off,’ Becca said.

  ‘Jade has a point, though, doesn’t she?’ Michaela said, patting Becca’s tense shoulder. ‘Relax, you’ll be fine.’

  Looking at her watch, Michaela told the girls it was time to get into the saddle and start warming up. She’d meet them at the junior practice arena in fifteen minutes, after walking the intermediate course with Amanda and Kristen.

  Jade was getting a leg-up from David when Becca’s mum yelled from the truck: ‘Wait! Just a minute!’ Jade and David looked at each other, baffled.

  ‘Helmet off,’ Becca’s mum ordered. ‘Your hair is all over the place, young lady.’

  David made a sympathetic face at Jade as her hair was pulled tightly back into a bun, then covered with a brown hairnet, which was pinned securely into place.

  ‘There, isn’t that better?’ Becca’s mum said, watching Jade gingerly feeling the back of her head.

  ‘I guess,’ Jade agreed, secretly thinking how itchy it would be under her helmet.

  ‘Doesn’t it look better, David?’ Becca’s mum asked, wanting backup.

  ‘Oh, yes!’ he said in a silly voice. ‘It’s fabulous.’

  ‘It’s all right for you — you don’t have to wear one,’ Jade whispered to David as he legged her up.

  When their appearance satisfied Becca’s mum, Jade and Becca walked briskly to the junior practice area, where the jumps and the riders looked comfortingly small.

  Trotting in a circle together now, they witnessed a nasty crash at the practice jump. A girl, who looked about ten, was clinging to her bay for dear life.

  ‘Bring him around again, and smack him this time!’ yelled a woman in sunglasses who was standing next to the jump.

  The girl did as she was told, but to no avail. The sweaty gelding once again tried to duck out to the side. This time the woman in sunglasses was ready. She made a fist and punched the horse hard in the cheek.

  ‘That’ll teach you, ya clown!’ she growled.

  ‘Don’t, Mum!’ the girl cried. The child’s hairnet had come loose and was hanging wispily behind her ear.

  ‘Poor thing,’ Jade said.

  ‘The girl or the pony?’ Becca asked.

  Keeping away from the jump until the problem pony had gone, Jade and Becca trotted and cantered on either rein. Dorian was slightly hotter than usual, spooking at a gust of wind. Dusty, however, seemed uncharacteristically calm. The crowds of ponies and promise of
showjumping suited him.

  ‘They’re looking lovely,’ Michaela called, walking across to meet her youngest charges. ‘There’s time for a couple of practice jumps, Jade, then you’re on!’

  Jade shortened her reins and pushed her heels even further down. She was ready.

  10

  A Clean Break

  Easy, girl,’ Jade said, sliding her palm down Dorian’s neck and shoulder as they waited for the steward to let them into the ring. Perfect pony or not, Dorian was unfamiliar; Jade tried not to think about Pip at home in Mr White’s yard. If only she were riding Pip now, instead of Kristen’s carefully schooled showjumping machine on which, if Jade were honest, she was more of a passenger than a pilot.

  ‘Number 18: Jade Lennox on Dorian, riding for Flaxton District Pony Clubs,’ said a woman over the loudspeaker, with a voice like the Briscoe’s lady.

  ‘Good luck, dear,’ the steward said, letting Jade into the ring after a stocky appaloosa, who’d been unlucky in knocking a rail off the precarious triple bar, jogged out. His rider was grinning and patting him vigorously nonetheless.

  Jade had barely gathered up the reins before Dorian was cantering eagerly past the truck. For a sickening moment, Jade thought she’d forgotten to check her girth. Was the saddle slipping? No; David had taken it up another two notches after giving her a leg-up. Her gear was fine; she just had to concentrate now.

  They were coming around to the flags, a little too fast for Jade’s liking, but she trusted Dorian. The ears in front of her, smaller and pointier than Pip’s, were pricked and alert. The stride, drumming evenly at the ground beneath them, was shorter than Pip’s, but full of impulsion. They met the musical-notes oxer bang on the mark.

  Leaning forward, with a handful of plait in her right hand and her whip in the left, Jade looked for the next jump in mid-air. Dorian recognized the subtle turn of her rider’s body and was on the right leg and beginning to bend as soon as she’d landed. Where’s the next one? the pony asked, with one ear back, listening to Jade’s hands and legs. The rainbow triple bar, Jade replied, sitting back deep in the saddle for three strides, aiming her experienced steed for the indigo stripe right in the middle of the poles.

  Jade grimaced as Dorian took off too far out for her liking. Leaning right forward, giving the pony plenty of rein, she hoped that Dorian’s back hooves wouldn’t take the top rail with them. However, accustomed to jumps 30 centimetres higher than these, Dorian knew what she was doing and landed cleanly.

  ‘Clever, girl!’ Jade breathed, giving Dorian’s neck a brisk pat as they charged across the ring towards the pale pink upright. Too fast, Jade thought, sitting up and using the muscles in her back and shoulders to collect the excited pony. One, two, three, Jade silently counted the strides to a perfect takeoff.

  ‘Just the triple now,’ Jade whispered, steering the show-jumper very tightly around the last corner but straightening up in time to meet the last three jumps squarely. As Michaela had predicted, the pony was too focused on the gymnastic effort of the course to even notice the giant buzzy-bee filler in jump C.

  Skidding slightly as they raced through the finish flags, Jade pounded Dorian’s neck with pats. ‘Good girl! Very good girl!’

  It was a clear round; a fast, clear round.

  Jade was elated and tired as she brought Dorian back to a walk. At the ringside, Becca was grinning widely and gave the thumbs-up when she caught Jade’s eye. Becca’s mum, Michaela and Kristen were waiting, too. Theirs were the only smiling faces nearby; everyone else seemed, to Jade, nervous or resentful.

  ‘Good round,’ the next rider said, before cattily adding, ‘by the pony, I mean. Anyone could go clear on Dorian.’ His eyes were pale blue, his face very pink and clean, his expression unpleasant. Jade didn’t know what to say, which didn’t matter because the boy had already spurred his own pony on in a flashy way. The dish-nosed Arab kicked up a clod of dirt as they cantered past the truck.

  ‘Do you know who that was?’ Jade asked Kristen, who had ridden over on a fidgety Johnny to congratulate her pony and team-mate.

  ‘Yannick Van de Meer, from Gorsewood Pony Club. He’s super competitive,’ Kristen said. Jade told her Yannick’s remark, making Kristen laugh. ‘What a dork! He’s just worried you’ll beat him. And I reckon you will. Man, Dozz loved that, Jade! Thanks for giving her such a good ride,’ said Kristen.

  ‘She was so good,’ Jade replied, dry-mouthed. ‘It was a really fun round. Thank you so much for letting me borrow her. And Yannick’s right: it was mostly her.’

  ‘No,’ said Michaela, who’d overheard their conversation, ‘he’s not right. Dorian’s a very tidy show-jumper, but she’s not a push-button pony. I’d bet that he couldn’t have gone as fast and clear as you did. Look at those heavy hands,’ Michaela said, gesturing at Yannick as he pulled his pony around to the triple bar. ‘Is he really wearing pale blue string gloves?’

  Kristen burst out laughing. ‘They match his tie and saddle blanket.’

  A tall blonde woman turned round and glared at Michaela. ‘I would’ve thought you’d be more professional,’ she said slowly.

  Michaela looked chastened. ‘Frieda, I’m sorry; I didn’t see you there.’

  Frieda Van de Meer breathed in through her nose, put on her sunglasses and turned back to watch her son.

  ‘Right, I think it’d be a good time to get you ready for your round,’ Michaela said quickly to Kristen. ‘Jade, you can take Dorian back to the truck — both of you deserve a break and a bite to eat.’

  ‘I thought I might stay and watch Becca,’ Jade said. ‘She’s only three riders away; aren’t you, Bec?’

  Becca nodded sadly.

  ‘Don’t pull that face!’ Jade said, laughing. ‘You’ll be fine.’

  ‘I know we should be fine,’ Becca said, ‘But my feet really hurt; whenever I put my heels down, it’s agony. I can’t concentrate on riding.’

  Becca’s mum rolled her eyes and sighed. ‘We’ve been through this — you’re going to have to just deal with it for now, unless we cut the toes out right here. I’ll try and find a shop after your round and buy a larger pair for this afternoon. It’s the best I can do, Becca.’

  ‘You could borrow my boots,’ Jade suggested. ‘My feet are a bit bigger than yours.’

  ‘There! Problem solved,’ Michaela said. ‘Good luck, Becca. We’re off now. I’ll see you at the truck afterwards.’

  ‘Good luck to you too,’ Becca said to Kristen. ‘Not that you’ll need it.’

  ‘Oh, you’d better believe I’ll need it on Johnny,’ Kristen said. ‘He’s green as grass.’

  ‘C’mon, daughter — you’re catching Becca’s pessimism,’ Michaela said. ‘See you littlies later.’

  Becca, who was already off Dusty’s back and trying on Jade’s lovely new boots, grinned. She and Jade were used to Michaela’s teasing now.

  ‘They fit, Mum! They’re perfect!’ Becca said, delightedly walking back and forth as far as Dusty’s reins would let her.

  ‘Thank you very much, Jade. You’ve saved the day. Make sure you watch your feet around all these ponies with studs in their shoes,’ Becca’s mum warned, taking her nervous daughter for one last practice jump.

  Jade decided to stay and watch the competition. Standing in her sweaty white socks, next to Dorian, who was now placidly resting a hind hoof and flicking her tail at flies, Jade felt that wonderful sense of relief and fatigue. She’d done well, and there was plenty of time until the next round. She could relax.

  ‘And you can relax too, lovely girl,’ Jade said to Dorian, allowing the pony to rub her head on Jade’s shoulder, leaving a scattering of white hairs. Jade ran her stirrups up, loosened Dorian’s girth, then watched the debacle of the next round. The girl whom Jade had seen crying at the practice jump and her mother who’d punched the poor bay in the face were tussling with the scared pony at the arena gate. ‘Give him a proper smack, not a wussy tap on the neck. Belt him behind the bloody girth, girl!’ the mother bello
wed.

  Jade could see the girl’s eyes welling up again. Which team were they from? Jade wondered, examining the sky-blue jersey, saddle blanket and helmet cover. They were wearing the same colours as Yannick. Surely the Gorsewood team, which Michaela had warned would be very competitive, wouldn’t treat a pony, and indeed a rider, like that?

  ‘Poor girl,’ Jade whispered into Dorian’s mane, watching her short, weak legs flapping ineffectually at the pony’s sides. ‘Poor pony too; he’s terrified.’

  The bay had the same dished face as Yannick’s chestnut, Speculaas, but its body was less refined. It looked more like a little station-bred horse than a pony, Jade thought; but, more to the point, it looked frantic. His nostrils were flared, eyes wild and ears pinned back. Both pony and rider were terrified and angry — perhaps not at each other so much as the situation. Both seemed confused about what was required of them.

  ‘Hit him! For crying out loud!’ the mother yelled again, watching her daughter’s pony start to spin back around towards the gate. Doing as she was told, the girl gave her pony a mighty thwack on his stomach with her whip. The judge, sitting in the truck, shook his head and put the bell back down, giving the pair another minute to collect themselves.

  ‘It won’t work!’ the girl squealed, as the pony shot forward then graunched to a halt again, seeing the mother filling the arena gateway, fists clenched. With the curb chain tight behind his chin, the whip flailing around his head now, and the girl on his back thumping up and down, the bay rose on his hind legs — there was nowhere else for him to go. With the reins clumped along with his mane so tightly in her sore hands, the rider, screaming, pulled her rearing pony up higher. ‘Mum!’ the girl howled. ‘He’s going backwards!’

  ‘Lean forward! Drop the reins!’ another mother was shouting now, seeing the catastrophe before it happened. But the terrified child wouldn’t let go. Jade thought of the description of the rearing horse in Oliver Twist — but this was much worse, not remotely funny. Not wanting to watch but unable to look away, Jade saw the bay pony’s hind legs slip out from under him as he fell backwards. The girl, who’d lost both stirrups now, with impressive presence of mind — or at least instinct — finally let go of the mane and reins, allowing her to fall to the side instead of getting pinned under the weight of her pony. There was still a sickening moment when both the girl and the pony seemed to be trying to get to their feet at once, the pony’s hooves dangerously close to the girl’s slight body.