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An Unfortunately Fortunate Day (2)

I looked all around me whilst I tied Maisie up next to the trailer. We stood in a grass field, where everyone was parked, either grooming or tacking up their horses. Everybody looked so calm and professional, putting on their riding hats or fixing their girth sleeve. My heart, however, was rattling with nervousness inside its rib cage, whilst brushed out and replaited Maisie’s tail, and my hands trembled whilst I was tightening her throat lash.

     I saw one girl putting on her show boots next to her gorgeous dark bay 16hh horse, all with matching brown tack and gear. She noticed me staring and smiled reassuringly. In my foolishness I only raised one corner of my lips slightly, but carried on gazing. Then, after a couple of seconds, I regained my sanity, and went back to sorting out Maisie’s boots.

~~

In the warm-up ring she was perfect. Sometimes she would spook at the fencing or an audience member, but apart from that, she was well-behaved, even when we practiced jumping 90cm, where she didn’t refuse even once. This course, fortunately, would range from mostly 50cm to 80cm, apart from two nasty 90cm jumps as a double straight right at the end of the course, which I was extremely worried about.

     After warming up, we had to wait with our horses out in the field near the arena until they called our name and number, then we would go out into the arena and finally jump the course. I stood there with poor Maisie, whose ears were flicking back and forth at an alarming rate, feeling like I was about to throw up. There was no sign of the girl with the magnificent horse anywhere. I kept murmuring comforting words to Maisie, stroking her quivering neck, until my parents came up to me.

     “Freya, there’s no need to look so frightened,” My mother tried to calm me down. “It’s just another competition. If anything, you should be enjoying yourself!”

     “Enjoying myself?” I repeated at aghast. “When my horse is just about as useless in competitions as a sack of potatoes; when you’ve paid £150 for me to enter; and when the prize for winning is £2000, I can’t be letting you down and coming last, yet again!”

     “Oh sweetheart…”

     There was an awkward pause.

     Then my father exclaimed, “Look, Freya, I see your name on the board! You’ll be going… fifth, after a girl named… Carissa.”

     I felt my eyes steaming up with salty tears, but, just at that moment, the girl I spoke of earlier arrived into the field with her proud mare, gleaming ferociously, even in the light of the day. It seemed rather drizzly, and lots of grey, pointless clouds covered the sky. So, instead, I wiped away my angry tears, and shoved my face into Maisie’s mane to prevent her from seeing me blubbing again.

~~

“Carissa now, number 1084…” a man called from the edge of the field, and I heard someone call farewell. I raised my head to see that Carissa was the flouncy teenager I had been so desperate to impress. Her father gave her a leg up, and she sat tall in her seat, her horse surprisingly calm.

     “Boy, I bet she wins every competition with her stupid horse,” I bumbled under my breath, deciding I didn’t like her anymore, with her shiny boots and dainty hands. I knew I felt jealous, but I didn’t want to show it.

     And, just as I had suspected, Carissa came back with a clear round, a non-sweaty horse, and a wide grin plastered on her face. I felt fuming, but then blushed in shame for wishing her bad luck.

     When the man finally called my name, after a feeling I had waited hours, I had simmered down a little. My father also gave me a leg up, all the while reminding me of tactics and strategies to use. But, me being me, it all just wafted into one ear and slipped out the other like spaghetti.

     It was my time now.

     With a new and strange confidence, I trotted out into the arena with Maisie.

     It was now, or never.

To be continued.