“Not if you were on the correct side of the flag,” answered David. “Which bit of you or the pony did the damage?”
“My foot.” Rupert rubbed his ankle gingerly. “I expect I can produce evidence.”
“Your right ankle, that should be all right then,” said David, looking at his watch as a shout of joy greeted Hanif s reappearance.
They watched Hanif’s careful, slanting approach, saw him drop the rail and Jupiter follow him over willingly. Alice was praying that the pony would stand, Netti was willing Hanif to spring lightly into the saddle.
“Oh, stand still, can’t you!” muttered James angrily as Jupiter twirled.
“Stupid unco-operative animal!” cursed Seb.
Hanif sprang, but was still only half on as Jupiter set off, full gallop, for the finish.
“Oh Hell!” said Seb as Hanif swayed precariously, hanging on to the pommel and vainly trying to swing his right leg over.
“He’s going to take the wrong course and be eliminated,” groaned James.
“He’s going to fall off and be trampled to bits.” Lizzie’s face was desperately anxious.
Alice stood silent and aghast as they watched Hanif struggling. Then he stopped trying to mount and pulled really hard on the left rein, turning the pony away from home and making it appear that he had to go round the course again. Jupiter began to slow down and, keeping him on the circle, Hanif managed to scramble on. Then, pausing for a moment to get his right stirrup and gather up his reins, he rode at the last fence.
Lizzie started. There was no sign of Lesley yet. Hanif rode through the finish and then over to the Land Rover.
“Sorry, David. I had to circle, it was the only way I could stop him. It’ll count as a refusal.”
“No, I don’t think so, you were still a long way from the next fence and you certainly hadn’t ‘put’ Jupiter at it. But you nearly gave me a heart attack, you were supposed to be keeping him in a tight circle until you were on.”
“Here’s old slowcoach at last,” announced Sarah as Lesley appeared.
“Good luck, Alice!” shouted Hanif, loosening Jupiter’s girth.
“Did you have any other trouble?” James asked him.
“No, Jupe was brilliant; he loved it. He did a huge jump over the timber wagon, took the staircase as though he’d been jumping them all his life, and we went through the pen at a trot.”
“It sounds as though we’re all four round then,” James looked pleased, “which means we can finish even if Rupert does something dotty in the running.”
“She’s taking her time about it,” said Paul, watching Lesley at the slip rail.
“Oh, you can’t hurry my sister.” Sarah’s voice was contemptuous.
“You won’t have any problems, Tristram will just freewheel round there,” Rupert told Netti who was waiting at the start.
“Don’t. Touch wood!” shrieked Netti. “It’s an awful responsibility having a good pony because if you don’t go clear you know it’s all your fault.”
“Right, we’ll have the last four over the practice jump again. Quickly.” said David, noticing that Tina’s face was greenish in colour and her teeth were chattering, while Vulcan, Chess and Banjo had all fallen asleep.
“I had one refusal,” Lesley told David, “and I expect I got some time faults.”
“Where did you stop?”
“The staircase—she didn’t understand it and stopped to have a look. Then, when she realized it was just banks, she went up quite willingly. She cleared everything else. We did far better than I expected.”
“Well done, she’s learning.” David patted the chestnut neck. “Have we lost Lizzie?”
“No, I can see her blue sweater coming through the trees,” Hanif answered.
Alice was galloping, her blood was up and she was filled with elation, though, with her mind intent on remembering the course and taking the jumps correctly, she had no time for self-awareness. The first two fences had been easy, Saffron had co-operated over the gate, made nothing of the uphill tree trunk and taken the drop neatly. She asked him to stand back at the timber wagon and he soared over, making her conscious that he too was enjoying himself and being the perfect partner. He took a quick look at the ditch and jumped it carefully, then obeyed her call for acceleration. He summed up the staircase in a second and reached the top in four great bounds.
“Good boy!” shouted Alice, unable to spare a hand for a pat as she guided him round the sharp left turn to the chicken coops. Saffron jumped them with ease and then let her steer him to the right of the track and point him left-handed across the pen. Realizing the problem, he steadied himself and hopped swiftly in and out. They cantered down over the tree trunk, she sat tight, kept him balanced and then pushed on for the water. He flew over, ears pricked, already looking for the next fence. She collected him for the stile. They raced on across the flat grass field, and stopped at the slip rail. Saffron followed Alice over with a small, neat jump and waited for her to replace the rail and remount, with only a few small fidgets. Then they were galloping for the last hedge and remembering the finish.
“It was lovely, but I do wish it had gone on longer,” Alice lamented as she led Saffron over to the group by the Land Rover. “It was all over so quickly.”
“Any trouble?” asked David.
“No, Saffy thought it was great too.” Alice patted him proudly. “How have the others done?”
“Lesley had one stop on the staircase and probably collected a few time faults,” David answered. “And Lizzie thinks they may give her a refusal at the ditch. Rajah stopped for a look and jumped from a standstill. Netti’s on her way; with luck she’ll go clear. Cheer up, Lynne,” he called, looking across at the junior team who were quaking miserably at the start. “My pony’s an expert at this; just keep him informed about what lies ahead, he’ll do the rest.”
“We’d better take the ponies back and change,” fussed James, who’d caught sight of a band of Cranford Vale people dressed for running. “We’ve still got to walk the running course.”
Rupert groaned, “Do we have to?”
“We can’t come until Netti’s finished,” objected Lizzie who was watching the stile anxiously. “Good luck, Lynne.”
Lynne started slowly and Vulcan heaved himself ponderously over the first fence. But then she seemed to come to life and, stirring the pony into action, flew over the second.
Seb and Alice were trying to cheer up Tina who was looking green again.
“You’ll enjoy it, it’s really nice; I promise,” Seb told her. “Every single jump was fun.”
“And they won’t look big now you’re on Bowie,” Alice reminded her. “It’s the people on little ponies I’m sorry for; for Sarah and Paul and all that lot.” She pointed at the two Northdown teams who had taken over the practice jump. None of them looked more than eleven and they were all riding twelve-two ponies.
“I’m going to take a look at the scoreboard,” decided James. “They may have some riding scores up.”
Sarah set off and Netti came galloping in. “He was really brilliant!” she told them as she patted Tristram enthusiastically. “He jumped them all perfectly, I didn’t have to do a thing.”
“Terrific,” said Alice. “Now all our four are round too. You’d better start willing Bowie to go clear, Netti. Tina’s got the most terrible needle.”
“O.K., as soon as I’ve got my breath.”
David had limped over to the start. “Cheer up, Tina, you’ve a good pony; just get going and throw your heart over. Paul, don’t ride too hard. Save him for the fences, don’t push him until you’re coming back across these two fields.”
Tina was still quaking as she started but once she was over the first fence she began to feel better, the awful coldness and the cramp in the pit of her stomach both disappeared. Bowie seemed a bit lacking in confidence. “Come on, the second one’s easy,” she told him, “and then it’s the gate.”
Paul waited, surrounded by North
down members, for his sister to reappear. And then, as she landed sedately in the slip rail field, he set off; Banjo scuttling willingly towards the first fence, and Paul trying to curb his desire to ride at maximum speed.
“How did it go?” David welcomed Lynne home.
“I made a bit of a mess of it. Sorry, David,” she answered. “We had a refusal on the staircase, we ran out of impulsion, just like you said. And we had to circle in the pen. I only just stopped him going straight on. But I did enjoy myself.” Lynne jumped off and felt in her pocket for pony nuts. “It’s quite different on a pony that likes jumping.”
“Good, and two stops isn’t bad for your first ride on him,” David told her, as he watched a Northdown member refuse the first fence.
They waited impatiently for Sarah and at last she appeared, cat-jumping the stile, whipping briskly through the slip rail, and then hustling a tired-looking Chess across the last field and over the hedge.
“Any trouble?” the Woodbury people asked her.
“A bit, the stupid pony had to have two goes at the staircase and then he stopped at the water, though it was on the way home. I made up as much time as I could.”
“He’s a game little pony,” said David, patting the sweaty piebald neck. “Get off and give him a rest.”
“Here’s Tina, and she’s going quite fast,” Lynne called a few minutes later.
“Too fast. Here, take a pull, Tina,” said David, watching anxiously as the bay pony raced across the field.
But Tina left it far too late. Bowie had seen the slip rails and was accelerating when Tina remembered that they were for taking down. He increased his stride and flew over triumphantly. Circling, Tina managed to pull up. The jump judge was calling to her and she rode back.
“Stupid pony!” stormed Sarah. “Spoiling our chances.”
“Here, be reasonable, you can’t blame the pony; it looked like any other jump,” objected David.
“It’s all right, they’re letting her through,” said Lynne. “Oh, come on, stop talking to the judges, you’re getting even more faults,” muttered Sarah angrily. “At last,” she added as Tina scrambled on and cantered for the hedge.
“I’m terribly sorry.” Tina rode in looking very crestfallen, “I sort of forgot where I was on the course; we were whizzing along so beautifully the slip rails went right out of my head.”
“Put it down to lack of experience,” David told her. “Did you have any trouble on the heath?”
Tina thought back. “No, I don’t think so, everything was so glorious I sort of went mad.”
“You’ll have sixty penalty points and masses of time faults,” complained Sarah.
“She won’t be any worse than us,” said Lynne, staring at the stile as she waited for Paul to reappear.
“No riding scores yet,” announced James, “but Mr Franklin wants to drive us round the running course if you’ll lend him the Land Rover, David. He says all the other pony clubs are doing it because everyone’s so tired.
“Here’s Paul!” shouted Lynne. They all turned to watch. He was through the slip rail in a few moments and vaulted on to Banjo. Urging the pony into a gallop he rode at the last hedge stirrup-less and raced through the finish.
“How did you get on?” All the Woodbury people rode over to him.
“He went clear, I never thought he would, but he was really super,” Paul told them with pride. “Drop, timber wagon, staircase, pen, stream; he did the lot.”
Mr Franklin appeared. “Congratulations, David,” he said, opening a garden chair. “Now, can we leave you to watch the scoreboard while I take them round the running course? You’ve done more than your share.”
“Thanks.” David sat down quite gratefully. “I’ll accept your offer, particularly as it was your son who shortened my life by several weeks; I can’t wait for him to grow into that pony.”
“Yes there were a couple of hairy moments before he made the saddle,” agreed Mr Franklin. “Harry’s not firm enough with that pony, but I suppose it’ll come. Get a move on,” he shouted at the Woodbury members. “I’ll fetch you from the car park in five minutes, so hurry up and change.”
“Oh, David, they did do well.”
“There were so many refusals and people were saying that the course was far too stiff, until our little lot came round and made it look easy.”
“The way they tackled that enormous staircase.”
“We really felt proud of them,” said the Woodbury parents, flocking in from the cross-country course.
“We’ve heard so much about the Cranford Vale, but as far as the riding went our performance was a lot better. Those huge boys were having trouble all round the course.”
All the Woodbury people, parents and competitors, met again at the start of the running. Mr Franklin had taken charge of the competitors, making them tie double knots in their shoelaces and lecturing Rupert on taking the right course, while Mrs Franklin handed round glucose tablets and sips of water.
The Cranford Vale boys, looking bigger than ever, went first, and were followed by their girls’ team, which had done much better than the boys in the riding. Starting at one minute intervals, there was soon a long stream of competitors spread out all round the course.
“Even I can’t possibly get lost with all that lot to follow,” observed Rupert, as James started at his usual steady pace. Seb followed, equally steady but lighter on his feet, then Rupert, long and gangling.
“They all look rather like their ponies,” observed Netti with a giggle. “Except that Rupert’s eyes don’t pop like Rosie’s.”
“No giggling,” said Mr Franklin severely. “Keep your breath for running. It’s a pity we don’t know the scores, we can’t tell you what you’ve got to do to get a place, but if you don’t do your utmost you may be kicking yourselves afterwards. Chase Rupert with all you’ve got, Harry. Now Lesley, you’re the first of our girls.”
Rupert, running easily, gained on Seb, but Hanif, pushing himself to greater and greater efforts couldn’t quite keep up with Rupert. Lesley was slower than Hanif and the gap between them grew, but Lizzie, running like the wind, drew closer to Lesley with every stride and left Alice behind. Netti almost kept up with Alice and, behind her, Lynne was doing well, but the last three, smaller and younger, were being left further and further behind.
They came home one by one, collapsing in stitch-tortured positions with agonized expressions, but quickly recovering and demanding to know their times.
Oliver appeared. “Still no riding scores,” he complained. “The steward says that the riding always takes ages, but the running scores are very easy and that’s why they’re doing it last.”
“Right,” said David when Paul had recovered from his collapse. “That’s it then. You’ve all done very well, remarkably well as it was your first Tetrathlon. It doesn’t matter whether we’ve been placed or not, you all rode with intelligence and dash and you all finished in all four phases of the competition. Now, can we have tea and box the ponies while we wait for the results.”
Everyone was very agreeable at tea. Mrs Rooke was heard telling Mr Fuller that she thought the Woodbury could have beaten the Cranford Vale if the unfortunate business with the pistols hadn’t held up the practices. Seb was handing out envelopes. “It’s an invitation,” he explained. “Dad thought everyone would be too shattered for a party tonight, so he’s set it up for tomorrow; I hope you can all come. We’re having the barbecue in the paddock so that we don’t set the cottage on fire.”
Everyone was tearing his or her invitation open eagerly.
John and Sebastian Fuller request the pleasure of your company on Monday, 16th August at the Old Forge. 7.30 p.m. Barbecue. Cowboy clothes, but no ponies or pistols, please.
“Very posh,” said Rupert, studying the Wheeler invitation. They were printed on orange-coloured cards. “Dad’s in printing, so he gets it done for free,” Seb explained.
“You’ve asked all the parents too,” observed Hanif.
“Yes, Dad thought they all ought to get together since David wants a pony club committee. We didn’t ask your aunt and uncle, Alice, but it’s O.K. if you want to bring them.”
All the families were still consulting about the party when Oliver and Rupert came running. “The riding scores are on the board and we’ve nearly caught up,” they shouted. “There are only about four people better than James now. The best person is in the South Barset, but two people in their team were eliminated in the cross-country,” gabbled Oliver.
“The Cranford Vale girls are leading, but both our teams and the Cranford Vale boys are close,” explained Julian more precisely. “But you can’t work out which will be the three best scores in each team until they give us the running scores.”
David limped over to inspect Julian’s figures, while Mr Franklin and Mrs Rooke hurried to see the scoreboard for themselves.
“Yes, a couple of the high-scoring teams have been eliminated in the cross-country, so we may well move up a few places,” agreed David. “I think you’d all better get dressed in some sort of matching gear.”
“Track suits,” suggested James.
“No, only about five people have them,” objected Netti.
“Swimming trunks,” proposed Rupert.
Seb thumped him in a friendly manner. “Don’t be dead stupid.”
“Riding clothes,” said Alice. “After all, riding was our best thing.” There was a general groan at the thought of getting back into jodhs and boots.
“Are you sure we need to bother?” asked Lesley. “I won’t have done very well in the running.”
“You’re the best of the Woodbury girls,” Julian told her.
“And Netti’s beaten Lizzie,” observed Oliver, looking over Julian’s shoulder.
“I won’t have after the running,” Netti told him. “Lizzie was in terrific form.”
Pony Club Challenge (Woodbury Pony Club Book 2) Page 18