“Now I thought you’d be here.” I looked up. Mum was smiling. “I don’t suppose you’ve plaited Prince for me?”
I beamed, I’d been so early I had washed, groomed and plaited all our horses. My Bella, the smart and quick piebald who was so willing to jump and would do anything for me when it came to the excitement of the arena, Prince, Mum’s bay gelding who looked permanently half asleep with his long eyelashes closed over his eyes until the last second when he could clear a jumping course with the agility of a stag and of course Peanut, Adam’s chestnut pony.
Adam had caught the equestrian bug, well, it was a requirement in a family of riders. Even dad, who preferred hunter trials and chasing to the formality of showjumping was a dedicated equestrian.
We chatted together, mum and I. The classes I was entered into, the rosettes I would win. There was the usual moaning from me about having to lead Adam in the gymkhana classes. Mum turned to me.
“Amanda Katherine Bishop… You need to look after your little brother. He looks up to you and someday you will be everything to him. So, you have to run with Peanut for a few classes. Mark my words young lady he’ll ride rings around you in years to come!”
I’d laughed, but knew she was probably completely right. Even though Adam was still on a lead rein at shows, at home he was already jumping his tiny pony. He had no fear, if he tumbled off there was no tears or tantrums, he would catch his horse, laugh and try again. He honestly would be unstoppable, I supposed I had better enjoy my victories while I had them, he would grow up so fast and then I knew that he would be the better rider. He understood horses naturally, he could ride before he could walk.
***
There was the usual flurry of packing the horsebox as I panicked about missing reins and wanting to repack and double-check everything. Adam was cool, he had strolled out knowing that his sister would have prepared his pony for him. I realised he was young, but I still felt put upon. I had said so to my riding instructor, she’d laughed saying that, on the whole, girls were more likely to become more deeply involved with horses. Wanting to concentrate more on their care and preparation, taking time to make them look pretty with plaits and quarter marks, whereas boys would more want to ride, desiring the speed and agility. She’d said although there were exceptions, I wouldn’t change the world single-handily.
With mum in the passenger seat of the cab and dad behind the wheel, Adam and I sat in the living area behind. Our horsebox was nothing special, hell, we weren’t rich, not compared to those who would arrive in great lorries with space for six horses, driven by their groom who would be at their beck and call. However, I knew just how lucky I was as I looked out the window. It was a beautiful sunny day, it was still the summer holidays, just. And I was going to beat Hilary Temple-Jones, the very thought of it made me smile.
***
I led Prince up for mum, there she was in her brilliant white breeches and the long boots dad had spent hours polishing. Once in the saddle, she was completely in command, first jumping the warm-up fence with ease and then going into the arena. Watching her jump was as if her horse was on rails. She would approach each jump at speed, Prince clearing it with miles to spare. She cut a corner tight, there was a gasp from the crowd but she made the final jump and was patting Prince. I was sure she did it for show. That last trick for the crowd to keep them on the edge of their seats.
Adam had done well in the walking and trotting race, kicking Peanut on and hissing for me to run faster. In the end, it was a close finish and, although he was gracious enough to not say it out loud, I was sure he blamed me for my stumble near the finishing line losing him a winning rosette. However, he was kind enough to thank me with a hug before going off with dad in search of the ice cream van.
Bella was looking beautiful, I mounted up and mum gave my boots a final polish. I rode into the warm-up area, lining up to take a jump but being cut up by Hilary Temple-Jones who crossed my line. I pulled up hard. Hilary fluffed the jump causing her mother to have to run in to rebuild it. She scowled at me, angrily cursing me getting in her way when the opposite was true. I was about to speak when I saw my mother with a finger on her lips. She was right, the truly great competitor didn’t make a fuss or moan. They waited for the main arena and showed their style there. She’d taught me that when I had been on a lead rein myself and had howled when I missed out on a second place in the bending race some years before.
“Be strong, but be quiet. Never let them see they’ve upset you. Just bide your time and beat them fair and square.”
I hadn’t really appreciated her wise words immediately, however, I realised as I watched more entitled Pony Clubbers make fools of themselves making a scene at shows or having public and humiliating tantrums that the way forward was to be stoic. The class was fought only in the ring.
The ring steward called me forward and I rode into the arena. I could hear my name being announced on the crackly PA system and I was off. I had the course in my mind, I had ridden it so many times in my imagination but now it was just me
