by R B Marshall
“It seems we have a plan, then.”
I nodded. “See you on Wednesday.”
On Thursday morning I awoke in our lorry at the Highland Show, with my stomach in knots.
In less than three hours, I’d be riding in the main ring of the biggest agricultural event in Scotland, on Eagle, a horse belonging to Her Majesty the Queen. It was one of the scariest days of my life, and yet also one of the most exciting.
From the main part of the ‘living’ area of the vehicle—a little section between the cab and horse compartment, with basic facilities like a small caravan—a tantalising aroma wafted toward me. Carefully, I extracted myself from the shallow sleeping platform above the driver’s compartment, and clambered down the ladder.
“Veggie bangers,” pronounced Trinity, pushing at some sausages in a frying pan over the two-ring stove. “Get yourself dressed, and then get this down ya.” She nodded at a French press beside the kettle. “And the coffee’s ready.”
“You’re a wonder,” I said, pouring myself a cup. After pulling a pair of tracksuit trousers over my clean jodhpurs, to protect them, I did my best to eat something, knowing that I’d appreciate it later. “So, are we still going with the same game plan?”
On the drive down from Glengowrie last evening, Trinity and I had discussed the logistics of today. Eagle’s class would start at nine this morning, and could last as long as an hour. But Allegra’s in-hand class was due to start at ten thirty, which didn’t give us long to swap them over—it was about a ten-minute walk from the temporary stabling area to the show rings.
This also meant that we had to get them both cleaned and ready immediately after breakfast, as there wouldn’t be time later to do Allegra—unless Trinity skipped watching me ride, which she wasn’t about to do.
Fuelled for the day, we decanted from the lorry and hurried over to the rows of boxes which housed our horses. Morning sun made the dewy grass sparkle like it was scattered with diamonds, and, somewhere on the edge of the show ground, a bunch of crows flapped away from their roost in a tree, cawing throatily as if they were in need of oiling.
Two hours of hard work later, Allegra was gleaming and Eagle sparkled like the sun. I took a moment to snap a photo of them on my phone, before getting on board the stallion. “Wish me luck,” I said as I rode him off in the direction of the warm-up ring.
This was it. The next hour might determine Eagle’s future, and I was determined not to let him down.
Probably picking up on my anxiety, Eagle was on his toes as we walked along the horse track through the trees behind the jumping ring, and into the main ring warm-up.
The first person I spotted was Ruth. “I didn’t realise you’d be here,” I said, stopping Eagle beside her.
“Helping another client,” she said, indicating a child with her hair in pigtails riding a bay show pony. She glanced at my face. “Nervous?”
“Just a bit. It’s my first time here.”
“All you need to do is pretend it’s like any other show. It’s the same judges go round the circuit, you could have met them last weekend. They’re probably wearing the same underwear.”
I laughed at that, and some of my tension dissipated.
Ruth grinned at me. “Ride him like you did at mine the other day and you’ll be fine.”
With Ruth’s pep-talk ringing in my ears, I began to work with Eagle, stretching and bending him, and making sure he was attuned to me so that he’d do what I asked rather than being distracted by what was going on around us.
A roughly-triangular section of grass between the main and showjumping rings, the warm-up was buzzing with ponies, mostly well-behaved. The riders varied from children, like the one Ruth was with, to grey-haired pensioners. It seemed like the Highland attracted all types.
Some of the other riders looked pretty green in the face, so I suspected I wasn’t the only newbie. And I hadn’t seen any sign, as yet, of a steward to tell us what to do, so I hoped it would be obvious when it was time to go for my class.
“Morning, boss.” Trinity appeared beside me, wicker grooming basket in hand. “Stop for a sec till I give him a quick rub over.”
My friend was taking her ‘show groom’ duties very seriously, and soon had Eagle looking as clean as he had before we’d started.
Just then, as if by magic, all the Highland Ponies in the warm-up started to gravitate towards the exit. “Thanks, Trin,” I said, giving her a wan smile. “That looks like our cue. Wish us luck.” Taking a deep breath, I turned Eagle to follow the others. I could always come back if I was wrong.
On the way into the main ring, a steward checked my number and ticked us off on his clipboard. “Good luck,” he said, and waved us on.
Stepping into the main arena was an awe-inspiring moment, but I only had seconds to enjoy it, as another pony cut in front of us and I realised I needed to be less of a tourist, and get my game face on.
Passing the grandstand for the first time, I glanced left and spotted Lady L and what looked like half of Glengowrie sitting in the first couple of rows. I couldn’t decide whether that should make me more nervous, or whether I should be buoyed by the support.
“Go, Izzy,” someone shouted, and I briefly lifted my left hand off the reins to acknowledge them.
Then I heard the steward ask us to “Trot on!”, and I focussed solely on the lovely black ears before me.
“Come on Eagle,” I whispered. “Show them what you’re made of.”
When we’d collectively shown the judges—because there was more than one at the Highland—our walk, trot, and canter, we were called in one at a time for the initial ranking.
This time, Eagle was pulled in third, which I was gobsmacked about, since this was a national show, not a little event just outside Dundee.
As before, the horses were ridden one at a time by a judge—the ‘ride judge’. I jumped off, just as Trinity appeared beside us with her basket and gave him a quick once over with a polishing cloth, stepping back when the judge dismounted from the second competitor.
I stood and watched Eagle critically as the lanky man put him through his paces. As far as I could tell, the stallion did everything that was asked of him, which was as much as I could ask. “Good boy,” I said, and gave him a surreptitious polo mint when the judge moved on to the next pony.
Trinity pulled out her brushes. “You get the saddle off,” she instructed, “and I’ll clean him up.” She really was taking this very seriously. But I was glad she was there to help, because I had enough else to occupy my brain.
We only had a minute to preen the stallion before the steward asked us to approach the other judge—the ‘conformation judge’.
Taking Eagle’s reins in my hand, I led him over and stopped him in front of her, remembering Ruth’s instructions about how best to present him.
Her mouth pursed, she stepped all around the stallion, examining him from every angle. Then she caught my eye. “Age?”
I assumed she meant the horse, not me. “Nine,” I said, feeling like I ought to add ‘your honour’ at the end of my sentence.
She scribbled something on her clipboard, then flicked a finger at me. “Walk away, then turn and trot a few steps past me, please.”
I did as she said, but had only just started trotting him when my leather boots slid on the damp grass, and I landed heavily on my behind.
A collective “Ooh,” went up from the grandstand, as, face flaming, I scrambled to my feet. Fortunately, Eagle had stopped dead beside me, so, with a quick click of my tongue, I set off running again, praying that I’d stay on my feet this time.
“Thank you,” said the judge when we stopped in front of her. Then she glanced significantly at one of my competitors, who was sporting a sparkling pair of Nikes. “Might want to try some trainers, next time,” she said quietly, then moved on to the next pony.
Joining Trinity, I peered over my shoulder, trying to assess the damage.
“Think you’ll need your spare jods for All
egra’s class.” Her nose screwed up.
“Are they covered in grass stains?”
“’Fraid so.” Trinity grabbed the saddle and lifted it onto Eagle’s back.
I sighed. So much for my big debut at the Highland. I’d made a real fool of myself, and put a huge green mark on my favourite jods.
We took our time to get Eagle ready again, while the judge finished with the remaining horses in the class. As surreptitiously as I could, considering there were crowds on all sides of the arena, I rubbed at my bottom, which had started to ache, now that the adrenaline had worn off. “Would a wet wipe help, d’you think?” I asked my friend.
Trinity surveyed my back view. “It’d probably just smear it everywhere. You can’t see too much—your jacket covers most of it. Probably won’t see it at all when you’re in the saddle,” she added optimistically.
“I’d better get back on, then.”
The stewards and judges were pretty efficient, so it wasn’t too long before we’d all been assessed and it was time for the final ‘go round’.
In a ring the size of the Highland, we were a lot more spread out than we’d been at Glendoig, and I wondered if I’d even be able to hear the steward when it came for our turn to be called in. Passing the grandstand again, I smiled at Lady L, only to see her frantically pointing towards the middle of the ring.
Frowning, I turned my head, to see the steward waving his clipboard at me. I pointed at my chest. “Us?” I mouthed.
He nodded. It was then that I noticed that, so far, there were no other horses in the line-up. Surely not.
My heart hammering, I turned Eagle in to the centre, convinced that another horse would overtake us at any moment. But as we drew nearer, we were still alone, and a smattering of applause reached me from the grandstand.
Spotting my confusion, the lady judge pointed to the lead position. “Well done,” she said, as her colleague strode over, carrying a red rosette.
“B—but I fell over,” I spluttered, sure that I must be dreaming.
“And your horse stopped and stood like a lamb. And then trotted off really well with you,” she said, offering her gloved hand for me to shake. “He has manners to die for.”
Her colleague clipped the rosette to Eagle’s bridle, and also shook my hand. “Best ride of the lot,” he said, “lovely ’orse. Let me know if you want to sell him.” Taking a blue rosette from the steward, he moved on to the dapple-grey pony that had come second.
I stared after him, my brief euphoria squashed by his last words. Sell him.
In all the excitement and fuss of getting ready for the show, I’d forgotten that was the queen’s intention. Maybe she’d find a buyer right there.
“Well done, boss,” Trinity murmured. “I knew you could do it.” Then she turned and hurried to the side of the ring with the other grooms.
“Thanks.” Tears pricked my eyes, and I put a hand on Eagle’s neck, as much to reassure myself as him, realising that this might be the last time I ever rode him.
Gritting my teeth and pasting a smile on my face, I took up the reins as the steward invited me to lead the victory lap.
If this was to be my last ride on this lovely horse, I was determined to enjoy every minute of it.
Chapter Twenty
As we approached the main ring exit, I slowed Eagle to a walk, scanning the crowd of spectators to see where Trinity had got to.
Instead of my friend’s cheeky smile, my gaze was caught by a pair of emerald-green eyes, set below a tangle of auburn curls and a blue baseball cap. My heart missed a beat.
Craig.
He pushed his way through to the fence, and Eagle stopped beside him. I wasn’t entirely sure whether the stallion had stopped because I’d asked him, or because he’d recognised Craig from his time at Balmoral. Maybe a bit of both.
“Well done, laddie,” Craig said, rubbing Eagle’s forehead, then glanced up at me.
“Hi,” I croaked through the lump in my throat.
That earned me a half-smile. “Hi, yourself.” As usual, Craig was looking effortlessly stylish, making me hyper-aware of my grubby jods and wrinkled shirt.
From the corner of my eye, I spotted Trinity, hovering nearby with her grooming basket. She jerked her thumb in the direction of the stables, and hurried off.
“H—how’ve you been?” My voice still sounded like it was filtering through rocks.
He lifted a shoulder. “Okay, I guess. It’s all a wee bit new to me.”
I presumed he was referring to his work at Windsor, where he’d been seconded to cover for an injured stable manager. “Are you up here for work?”
He wrinkled his nose, drawing my attention to the smir of freckles that dusted his cheeks. “Technically I’m on holiday. But I said I’d check on the big lad while I was here.” He gave Eagle another scratch. “He’s looking well.”
Around us, all the Highland Ponies had disappeared, replaced by several pregnant-looking mares and their handlers. My stomach clenched. Obviously the brood mare class was fast approaching, and I really needed to get my skates on.
I jerked my head in the direction of the lorry park. “Do you have time to walk with me? I’m due in the ring with Allegra in a minute, and I need to change my trousers first.”
His jaw clenched and relaxed, as if he was having an internal battle. “I’ll not hold you back,” he said, taking a step backwards. “Maybe catch you later.” With a brief wave, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Staring at the spot where he’d been, I blinked, then, with a sigh, I turned Eagle and trotted off down to the stables.
After the highs and lows of Eagle’s class, Allegra’s in-hand class was a bit of an anti-climax.
There were a number of beautiful mares in the class, and I was honestly pleased when she ended up with fourth place. She’d done herself proud, and, as I led her back out of the ring, I made a huge fuss of her.
Lady Letham met us near the exit, and held out a palm with a sugar lump on it. “What a wonderful result!” she said, as the mare gently snuffled at her hand and the treat disappeared. “Very well done to both of you. You must be so very pleased, my dear.”
“Thank you, your ladyship. And thank you for the opportunity to work with her. She’s a gorgeous girl.”
My employer rummaged in her handbag and held out an envelope. “This is for you and Miss Trinity, dear Isobel, as a thank you for all your hard work. Maybe you could buy yourselves something nice from the show,” she waved an arm at the many stalls and tents in the ‘equestrian village’ alongside the jumping ring, “or perhaps treat yourselves to a special meal. You both deserve it.”
I blinked. “Thank you so much, I never expected…”
She held up a hand. “Please, enjoy your time here. I am assured by Mr Harkin that he has everything under control back at the estate. And Mrs Harkin informs me that your dog is being an absolute angel. Please, treat this as a day off, with my blessing.” Slipping Allegra another sugar lump, she smiled at me, just as the minister and his wife appeared beside her. “Is it time for luncheon?” she said to them, her voice bright.
“Well done Izzy,” Brian May raised his hand in greeting. “You’ve had an amazing morning.”
“Yes, well done!” his wife echoed.
“Thanks,” I said, getting a little embarrassed at all the praise. I slipped Lady L’s envelope into my jacket pocket. “Please, go and enjoy your lunch. I need to take Allegra back to the stables and get her settled.”
When I finally made it back to Allegra’s box, I found Trinity skipping out the stable so it was all clean and tidy, ready for the mare. “Thanks for doing this,” I said, “and thanks so much for getting her ready for that last class. That must’ve been the quickest of quick turnarounds ever.”
“That’s alright.” Then she gave me a sideways look. “So, Craig’s back?”
I frowned. “I think he’s just up here for a couple of days, not back for good. We didn’t talk for long—I had to get chang
ed.”
She smirked. “Yeah. Green ain’t such a good colour for jodhpurs. Is you seeing him later?”
“No.” I shook my head, then dug in my pocket and pulled out the envelope. “But Lady L gave us a bonus, said for us to get dinner or buy something from the shopping arcade.” Ripping it open, I quickly counted it and handed my friend her half. “D’you want to eat later?”
Her nose wrinkled. “Sorry. I said I’d have my dinner with Termie. He’s supposed to meet me here this afternoon.” She finished in the stable and held the door open for Allegra, giving her a pat as I led her past. “But we could grab us some lunch? I’m right famished after all that running around.”
“Good idea.” I glanced down at my showing outfit, which was looking the worse for wear. “Let me just get changed first.”
After we’d grabbed some food from one of the hot food vans dotted around the show ground, Trinity made her excuses and headed back to the stables. “Francine bribed me to get Darcy ready for them. I need to go and spruce him up. I’ll see you later, yeah?”
I leaned back on the bench seat we’d discovered hidden behind the jumping ring, and stared up at the canopy of trees above me. It had been such a busy morning that I’d not had time to process what had happened—Eagle winning, Eagle probably getting sold, and Craig appearing. It had been a real rollercoaster ride of a day, so far. But one thing I’d realised, seeing Craig again.
I still cared about him.
I’d tried to push it to the back of my mind these last weeks since he went away, but things really hadn’t been the same without him in my life. Problem was, I’d messed things up with us, really badly, and I didn’t know if there was any way back from that.
Far overhead, a bird—something large-ish and dark-ish, I had no idea what—soared on a thermal, hanging in the air as if someone had painted it onto the sky. It looked so free, like it had no cares or worries in the world, and I envied it a little.