by Georgia Rose
It was nearly lunchtime when we stopped, taking the ponies in to take the saddles off. Before I suggested it this time, both of them were trying to get to the mounting block to get on bareback and because Reuben got left behind his sister at this point, he chose to try to jump on Benjy and managed it successfully, much to his sister’s dismay. She immediately slid off Zodiac and then vaulted back on from the ground just so he didn’t outdo her. Giggling now, they raced each other to the paddock and looking at them bouncing and slipping about all over the place, I decided we definitely needed to do some work on improving their bareback riding.
We had lunch under the apple tree then spent the afternoon setting up a jumping course in the paddock, and by the time Sophia and Reuben had finished with it I’d have been highly delighted if I’d managed to get Regan round it, it was so huge – I loved their ambition. I’d forgotten how it was to look at the world through a child’s eyes, how from their perspective anything was possible, and I enjoyed watching them as they built their course as they wanted it to be, living in the moment and not taking into consideration the limitations placed on them by their abilities or those of their ponies – only thinking of the possibilities.
We finished off by cleaning the tack, getting the evening stables done, and bringing the ponies in for the night. Grace turned up a short while later to take home two happy children, who were chatting away to her about all they’d done.
The next time they came over I’d decided we were going to have a lesson in the arena. They started complaining when I took their stirrups away, moaning that I didn’t realise how hard it was for them, and that it wasn’t fair I wasn’t joining in, so I went to fetch Regan out of the stable. They soon got the hang of riding without having the stirrups to rely on, and a short while later I made them tie a knot in their reins so they were riding round with their arms spread out to the sides as well.
They made sure I did the same on Regan, and in an effort to show them what was possible, I turned Regan into the line of small jumps I’d put up for the children the last time they came. It was a little reckless, not only because I didn’t have my stirrups or reins, but also because I hadn’t jumped Regan before; the jumps were too close together for him and they were also so tiny there was every chance he’d fall over one of them through not taking them seriously. Fortunately though, he behaved himself and we came out of the line in one piece, my arms spread out to the sides and the children cheering me on. It was the first time my blood had pumped round that quickly in a long time…and it felt really good.
This encouraged them to have a go, though we decided to take it a little slower. They both went down the line of jumps, first without stirrups, and when they’d done that successfully they went down again, no reins either. We all went back to the yard exhilarated by our morning’s successes. This time when they took the ponies out both the children vaulted on and set off as if they’d been doing it all their lives. I was enjoying watching them blossom, their confidence already growing as they started to realise the extent of their abilities and I looked forward to the rest of the summer and spending some time in getting to know them better.
Chapter 8
It was already August and I was just finishing mucking out the stables one warm, sunny morning when my phone rang. It was Trent.
“I was wondering if you could help me out this morning. No one else is available and I’m going to need some help setting something up. It should only take about an hour.” Intrigued, I replied that I could. “I’ll pick you up in about fifteen minutes, if that’d be okay? Also, do you have a spare head collar and lead rope for each of the horses you could bring, and some baler twine? Probably a good idea to bring hay nets for each of the horses to keep them occupied as well.” Even more intriguing, I thought. I assured him I’d sort all that out and he ended the call by adding, “Oh…and wear shorts.” I could almost feel his smile in these final words which increased the mystery as to what he was up to.
It was already quite hot; the sky was a cloudless blue as I changed into shorts and flip flops then found the spare head collars and filled some hay nets. I checked everything was locked up, including the cat flap, and then went out to the gate to wait for Trent, although I didn’t have to wait long as his dark-grey truck was already in sight. As he drew up I threw the head collars and hay nets into the back, then went round to the other side and clambered in. Trent didn’t have a normal pickup like mine; his was a huge, great big bulky thing. There were four doors to the cab with back seats for additional passengers, plus a pickup back to it, and it was so much higher and larger than mine.
“Sure you couldn’t have got yourself a bigger vehicle,” I commented as I climbed in and we set off.
He’d seemed relaxed on the phone and now grinned while responding with, “Not my choice I can assure you. It comes with the job.”
“Oh, and what would be your choice then?”
“Ideally some sort of classic car, a Mark 2 Jaguar, or something similar. Beautiful, but obviously not exactly practical for my way of life at the moment. How about you, or should I be guided by your choice of car in the garage? That must be nearly a classic anyway.”
“Rude!” I replied, feigning indignation. “Actually, she is ancient. But I’m more of a Morris Minor type of a girl than a Jaguar. So where are we going?” I finished, changing tack.
“We’re going to the beach,” he said, as he grinned across the cab. He was wearing navy cotton fitted shorts that finished just above his knees. His legs, like his arms, were tanned, the hair on them dark, and his feet were bare on the pedals. He wore a cotton tee shirt of cream and navy horizontal stripes and with his tousled hair he looked more carefree and relaxed than I’d ever seen him. I was surprised, and not only by our destination.
“I didn’t know we were that close to a beach?”
“You’ve obviously not explored the estate fully then. We’re going there to set up a treat for the family,” he volunteered. I was obviously aware the family were taking the horses out, as it had been arranged, but I hadn’t realised it was for something more elaborate than an everyday hack out. By this time we’d driven through the farm, crossed the road and were going down a track at the side of a wheat field bordered to one side by woodland. Trent explained that while a good part of the estate, including all the grassland, was enclosed within the boundary wall, most of the arable land was outside the wall and covered the area all the way to the sea where a couple of beaches were also part of the estate.
A little while later the track turned back into the trees, which I noticed were now all conifers. These woods were more sparsely populated than those around my home, the trunks thinner and uniformly straight, the branches not beginning until they were well out of reach of the ground, it being more open and sparse of vegetation. After going a little further we came to the edge of the trees, out onto a small ridge where Trent stopped the vehicle briefly before looking over at me, smiling at my reaction. I gasped, whispering, “Wow.” This was most unexpected. Ahead of us was a small slope which led down onto a beautiful golden sandy beach that stretched for several hundred metres.
At our end there was a small jetty built out into the water with a wooden building at the end like a shed, presumably for housing a boat. Looking along the beach, the trees followed it closely round its edge, but the line of them gradually rose until at the far end the beach was enclosed by a high wall of cliffs that jutted a little out into the sea.
Trent started forward again and we drove along the beach to the cliff. There he stopped and got out, as did I. I didn’t quite understand what we were going to do next as we seemed to have come to a dead end, but Trent went round to the back of the vehicle and lifted out a toolkit and a bucket of something that looked like cement. I picked up the head collars then stood there looking at him, mystified. Trent tilted his head to one side indicating where we were going and encouraged me to follow him, raising his eyebrows and smiling with amusement at my rather astonished expression as
he led the way, wading into the water, following the line of rocks out a little way to sea. The water was cold on my skin as it rose up my legs but the beach only shelved very slightly as it went out, the bottom remaining sandy. We soon got to the point of the rocks, turned round it, then followed them back in, making our way into another sandy bay. This one was smaller than the first and more secluded. The high cliffs followed the line of the beach all the way around and when I looked up I could see they were topped by trees. We made it back to the shore and put everything we were carrying down on the beach.
“We’ve two more trips to make I’m afraid,” Trent said apologetically.
“That’s no problem, it’s lovely here,” I murmured, looking around me. When we got back to the truck I helped Trent lift out a couple of posts that already had a rail joining them across the top. It was not particularly heavy, but was a bit awkward to lift; however, between us we managed to carry this round to the other beach. Lastly, we returned for a large picnic hamper, a separate canvas bag and the hay nets.
Once everything had been brought round Trent led me further up the beach until I could see a large entrance to a cave carved out of the cliff face. There was a slight incline up to the cave entrance so when the tide came in it would remain dry. I saw there were two holes already in the cave floor to one side, which Trent told me he and Wade had dug the night before, and into these Trent put the ends of the two posts, asking me to hold them in place. He retrieved the bucket of cement and proceeded to tip this into each of the holes, bedding the posts in place. I stood holding the rail steady and watched him working. He looked up at me a couple of times through the long, dark eyelashes that framed his deep blue eyes to check I was okay and that the rail was level.
“I’ve been meaning to thank you for your wine suggestion,” I said to break the silence between us. He looked up at me, frowning with confusion.
“That day, in the supermarket,” I added to jog his memory.
“Ah, yes, did you enjoy it?”
“Very much – I hadn’t realised you were some sort of wine expert.”
“Oh, definitely not an expert, but I know what I like.” His eyes lingered on mine for a moment before he turned back to the job in hand. Once he’d got everything as sturdy as possible he collected a few rocks and placed these round the bases of the posts to help hold everything in place while the cement went off, then stood back to admire his handiwork. The rail along the top already had metal rings attached to it and to each of these I tied a loop of baler twine so the horses could be secured safely. I left the hay nets ready to be tied up when needed, putting the head collars and lead ropes on the ground.
While I’d been holding the rail in place I’d had a chance to look round the cave. It was large and the ceiling was high. As Trent worked he’d explained that this whole coast was peppered with caves that in years gone by had supposedly been used by smugglers for storing their ill-gotten gains. It was also said that some of the caves led to passages that went up through the cliffs and ended up in the woodland somewhere and that the smugglers used these to get their loot up to the village. The cave did seem to go quite a long way back, so once I’d been relieved of having to hang onto the rail I ventured a little bit further into it. My adventurous spirit did not last long, however, as while I didn’t actually come to a dead end, it had all begun to get a bit dark, damp and claustrophobic and, starting to feel panicky, I returned to the sunshine quickly.
When I got back to the railing Trent was bringing in the hamper and announced, “This is one of Mrs F’s famous picnics – all chilled wine, smoked salmon nibbles and tasty little cakes.” My mouth watered at the thought.
“Mmm, sounds delicious,” I responded. “What’s in the canvas bag?”
“That contains towels, swimming costumes for them all, things like that, put together by Cavendish.”
We were all finished, so waded round to the truck and drove back across the beach.
“That was a very thoughtful thing for you to have done,” I said as I looked across at him, thinking that I was seeing yet another side of this increasingly complex man.
“They’re good friends of mine and need to spend some time together as a family. They do too little of that.”
“Oh, I didn’t realise you were friends, I thought you worked here, the same as the rest of us.”
“Well I do, but Cavendish and I go way back, we were at school together. We became friends one day when he was getting beaten up and I stepped in to give him a hand. Although that is not the story he tells of how we got to know each other.” He grinned as he said this.
“I hadn’t realised you went to the same school.”
“Cavendish was there because of all this,” he waved his hand, generally indicating the estate, “and I was there because I won a scholarship. We had very different backgrounds.”
We were soon at the stables and, thanking me for my help, he then took a moment looking across at me as he commented, “We’ve actually managed to spend some time together without any acrimony – that’s a first.”
“I’m quite happy to come and help you out, but I don’t like having anyone’s help or interference foisted upon me when it’s unnecessary.”
“You’re just going to have to learn to accept assistance more graciously then aren’t you,” he said insistently but with a smile. “Have a good day, Grayson.”
“You too,” I replied, thinking I’d better get out while we were still on good terms, and he drove off. I’d never known him to be so open and friendly and it made a refreshing change.
The next time I rode Regan out on his own I rode through the farm and saw that harvest was well underway. There was a field of stubble running alongside the road which looked so tempting. I thought back to a recent experience when I’d been jumping bareback in the arena with the children. I’d been sailing around the arena, my blood racing through my veins, and I remembered how good it had felt, so I took Regan into the field, moved swiftly into a trot then a canter, travelling alongside the hedge, a blissful feeling running through me as Regan opened up. It was one of those moments when I wished I didn’t have to wear a riding hat, when I wanted the freedom of feeling the wind through my hair. A movement caught my eye and looking sideways I realised a pickup was travelling along the road beside me. Wade was driving, Carlton hanging out of the nearside window grinning at me as I looked over.
“Race you,” he yelled, as I pushed Regan on into a gallop, not that he needed much encouragement. Adrenaline surged through me, an exhilaration I’d not felt in so long. Obviously we weren’t going to beat the truck but the boys kept level with me, whooping me on. I could see the end of the field coming up so eventually had to sit up and try to slow Regan down enough to negotiate the gateway. I shot out of the field breathless and laughing into the lane. The sound of my laughter was strange to me after so long yet I felt it releasing a tension within like that experienced by the compressed spring of a jack-in-a-box as the lid opens.
“Told you we’d get you laughing again,” cried Carlton delightedly as he and Wade joined in with me.
“Well, you’ve not managed to get me to laugh at your awful jokes yet! Next time I’m bringing Monty – he’ll give you more of a challenge.”
“You put up a good fight there, Grayson,” Wade said, then he looked up and his smile faded.
Carlton muttered, “Uh oh,” under his breath and I twisted in the saddle to see what had happened to change the atmosphere.
Trent was standing in the next gateway, leaning against his truck, his arms crossed and his face like thunder. He stood up, walked towards the pickup approaching the nearside window, and with a serious tone to his voice said, “Don’t encourage her in this reckless behaviour. I can do without having to pick up the pieces.”
“Yes, boss,” they replied in unison, looking suitably chastised. They glanced guiltily at me then drove off. Trent stared after them for a moment then slowly turned back to look up at me. Both Regan and I had caught o
ur breath now and I was glaring at him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.
“I’m only letting off steam – I recommend it. It might just loosen you up a bit,” I replied, trying to be light-hearted, but I knew I sounded annoyed, because it was like I was being told off – again – and actually because I was annoyed, damn him. I’d felt so good and all that positive feeling was being knocked right out of me by his attitude.
“You assured me you could look after yourself, but you keep taking these risks so I don’t see you making enough effort to do that successfully,” he scolded.
“I work with horses, Trent, and there are inherent dangers involved with that. But I’m not foolhardy – I take calculated risks such as this one, that for a moment…just for a brief moment lift me to a place that I haven’t been in a long, long time.” I paused, exhaling my tension away, then questioned, “Don’t you ever want to do something that makes your heart beat just that little bit faster, Trent, so that it makes you feel alive?”
He frowned at me. “Is that what this is about? Some sort of thrill-seeking? I get quite enough of that in my life thanks, and certainly don’t need to add to it by careering around the countryside on a horse.” He continued to look at me steadily, thoughtfully, as if weighing me up before adding, “You really are most unexpected, Grayson…Please do your best to look after yourself. I think that’s about as much as we can hope for.”
I assured him, most seriously, that I would, though I wasn’t sure he believed me as I saw him shaking his head in exasperation as he returned to his truck. I watched him drive off before returning home at a steady pace, so Regan would have a chance to cool off before we got back. I thought through the brief conversation and wondered what it was that Trent got up to that made his pulse race – I couldn’t see there was much in the quiet life he had here that would achieve that.