BOBBY rode Phoenix herself the following morning, taking him for her favourite ride, through the woods and along the hills above Bracken. It was another fine day, but the brisk breeze prevented it from being uncomfortably hot, and Phoenix was very full of himself. Bobby let the powerful chestnut enjoy himself, cantering on over the smooth, sweet-scented turf, and jumping any logs, ditches, and little fences that they found. Phoenix was Bobby’s idea of the perfect ride, very like her own Shelta in many ways, with his tremendous eagerness about jumping, and his love of action. Up here on the hills, however, she found him quite a handful, as she still had to be very careful with his mouth, and they returned more soberly to Bracken along the paths between the cornfields. By the time she turned into the field Phoenix had settled down again, and was walking out with his great, swinging stride, which was one of the things about him that Bobby liked so much.
There was a sleek Vincent horse box in the yard when she dismounted outside the boxes, and Heath was just leading June, who wore a checked summer sheet, blue leg and tail bandages, and her leather head collar, along the causeway to the yard. Bobby pushed Phoenix into his box, and went to watch June Evening loaded. Heath tied the bay mare to a ring in the side of one of the three padded stalls, gave her a last, carefully casual pat, and jumped down from the passenger compartment as the driver raised the ramp.
“Travels all right, does she?” he asked the girls.
“Yes. She’s used to it,” replied Heath.
“Good. I’ll be getting along then. Goodbye.” The man went round to the cab, and started the engine. A few moments later the box was swaying slowly down the drive. June whinnied as it turned the corner, and then she was gone. The stables suddenly seemed horribly empty as the girls walked back along the causeway.
“Oh well, perhaps we’ll get something sensible in her place,” said Heath, as they reached the boxes. “We can certainly do with it. Goose had William off again this morning, in the school, shying at the doors.”
Bobby took the hint, and did not mention June again, but began to talk about Phoenix’s behaviour on the hills, and Heath went to get Nobby ready for the half-hour at eleven-thirty. June was not mentioned again that morning, though as they walked up to the house for lunch Heath did say, “I hope she’s arrived safely, not that there’s any reason why she shouldn’t have done, of course.” And that, as far as anyone who did not know her could have told, was the last time she thought of June that day.
Bobby had groomed Phoenix thoroughly after returning from her ride that morning, and when the Goldmans’ station wagon turned into the yard at two o’clock he looked like a statue in beaten copper. Mrs. Goldman was driving the car, rather to Bobby’s dismay. She had not bargained for Isabel’s mother coming to watch, and as they walked towards her along the cinder causeway she prayed that Phoenix would behave with Isabel on his back. Isabel was just as thrilled with the look of her horse this time as she had been on Monday, and Bobby hoped that she would still be thrilled when her ride was over.
She left the Goldmans admiring Phoenix, and fetched his tack. Isabel again complimented Bobby on the change in Phoenix’s stable manners, but in spite of that, when Bobby brought him out, she stepped back and suggested that the other girl rode him first, “Just to give me another chance to see how I’m to ride him.”
Bobby agreed, and Phoenix stood motionless with his crest arched and ears pricked while she mounted. Then, at a light touch from her legs, he walked calmly forward, flicking an ear back to listen for orders.
His behaviour was impeccable, and Isabel was smiling when Bobby rode him back to her.
“Would you like to try him now?” she asked his owner.
“Yes,” agreed Isabel. “But perhaps I’d better ride him inside the school first.”
Bobby agreed, and Isabel opened the sliding doors for Bobby to enter. Mrs. Goldman went round to the little door which opened on to the low balcony at the far end, and Bobby trotted and cantered Phoenix round twice on either rein before bringing him into the centre, dismounting, and handing the reins to Isabel, who did not look quite so happy now that she was actually about to mount her horse.
“Let him have a fairly loose rein, and just walk and jog him round until you get used to each other,” Bobby advised her.
Isabel agreed rather nervously, and mounted. Phoenix stood like a rock, flicking one ear back a little anxiously as she gathered up the reins. Then Isabel gave him the aid to walk forward, and he obeyed like a lamb. They moved out to the boards, and Isabel began to ride him round on the right rein. The chestnut horse was a little tense, but slowly, as Isabel failed to do anything to upset him, he began to relax. Later they trotted, then cantered, and still Phoenix went as quietly as Selina. Isabel made him back, perform shoulder in and shoulder out, and some turns, and then Bobby put up two low poles for them, which Phoenix negotiated without trouble, although Isabel clung on to the mane, and let him dash round the school after jumping them before she regained control. When Phoenix was walking sensibly again Bobby explained to Isabel that she must steady him immediately after landing, and not let him go on fast again until he had come back to her, and was controllable once more.
“Otherwise you’ll never be able to steady him for the next fence,” Bobby warned her. “And if the cross-country fences are fixed he’s liable to take one by the roots, and you’ll have a nasty fall.”
Isabel nodded, and tried the poles again, this time managing to check Phoenix a little afterwards, although Bobby was still not satisfied. Before she would let Isabel take her horse outside the school Bobby made them jump the poles twice more, until Isabel could bring her horse straight back to a collected canter a stride after landing. All the time Bobby was very conscious of Mrs. Goldman’s gaze fixed on her, and she dreaded something going wrong at the last moment, as she opened the heavy doors for Isabel to ride Phoenix out into the paddock.
Outside Phoenix woke up a little, and Bobby had a few nasty moments as he jogged and snatched at the bit, trying to find out how far he could go with his new rider. But with Bobby giving instructions Isabel managed to be firm with him, and persuade him to behave properly without hanging on to his head or fighting him, the two things which he would not stand, though she complained that using her legs so hard to keep him balanced made them ache madly.
“That shows you’re using them properly then,” Bobby told her, as they crossed the field to the three low brush fences on the far side.
Jumping these was not a success. Isabel hung on to the mane again, and Phoenix, finding his reins loose and his rider’s weight right forward, took off round the field. Isabel managed to stop him, after several leaps which shook her dangerously loose in the saddle, looking rather scared. Bobby attempted to explain what had gone wrong, and Isabel tried again, with only slightly more successful results. She was so busy staying on during the actual jump that she forgot all about keeping her horse balanced, and maintaining contact with his mouth, until about three strides after landing, by which time Phoenix, deciding that this was grand fun, was away down the field with his nose in the air, and Isabel, seeing the next fence coming, just hung on and hoped for the best.
“If you let him go at that speed over a fixed set of upright poles he’ll land on his nose,” Bobby warned Isabel, when the horse finally stopped beside her. “You’re just a passenger at present, you must ride him all the time, whether he’s jumping or walking. It’s no use letting him jump at a flat out gallop with his reins flapping on his neck. I suppose you might, through sheer luck and Phoenix’s common sense, get round the cross-country course safely, and with a wonderful time, but you most certainly won’t get round a show jumping course like that, and it’s no use trying to jump him fast until you’ve learned to control him, and that means starting by jumping from a trot, and a steady canter. You see, if he’s just galloping wildly, unbalanced, with his nose in the air, he can’t possibly judge his take off properly for a stiff, fixed fence, and anyway, he wouldn’t have the impulsion left to clear it, he’d jump flat, and very probably hit it, hard. You’ve got to keep him balanced and calm, to do that you must push him into his bridle the whole time with your legs, keep your hands still, and never lose contact with his mouth for a moment, either jumping, or on the flat, unless you’re supposed to be doing a loose rein walk or something. On most horses it wouldn’t matter so much, but Phoenix is a bit difficult, and you’ve got to concentrate on him. On the flat you don’t do too badly, but I’m afraid at present your jumping is impossible. You’d better try the grid, that’ll steady him, and you can think about keeping him balanced.”
They tried the grid. Phoenix had jumped it many times with Bobby, and he was expert at trotting or cantering over the row of low poles, going with ears pricked and head lowered, to see what was coming next. Isabel looked secure enough. She was concentrating on riding her horse properly, now that there was nothing to scare her, or excite him, and Bobby realised that it was definitely anxiety and not insecurity that made her hold the mane over the larger fences, and made her riding go to pieces so completely. She decided to end the lesson for that day, and the next time Isabel came she would get her jumping a series of low fences in the school, with plenty of turning in between them, so that she would have to control her horse all the time. If only they had more time. Both horse and rider were only in need of practice and training, but sixteen days was nothing, when the owner was as nervous as Isabel, and the horse as impetuous as Phoenix. But there was one thing that should help. A good saddle. Bobby suggested a change to Isabel, who, after some hesitation, as she seemed to feel that a strange saddle might make things worse, agreed to try Guy’s Sowter for her next lesson.
Phoenix was stabled with Isabel’s help, and Bobby booked her another lesson for the following afternoon.
“You do think that Isabel will be able to manage Phoenix in the competition, do you?” asked Mrs. Goldman, as Bobby closed the day book.
“Well, she should be able to,” replied Bobby, slightly hesitantly. “But it’s early to say for sure yet. It depends how long it takes her to get used to him.”
“I do hope she will be ready,” said Mrs. Goldman. “It would be such a shame if Isabel had to miss the competition, and really, Selina is not good enough.”
“I’ll certainly have her ready for it if I possibly can,” Bobby promised. “I’m sure they only need practice together.”
The Goldmans were about to leave when Bobby realised that she did not know where the competition was to be held. If she knew it might give her some idea of what Isabel and Phoenix would have to contend with.
“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Isabel sounded surprised. “It’s in London. The Kensington Riding Club is organising it, in Kensington Gardens.” And before Bobby had time to recover the station wagon was turning out of the yard.
“Kensington Gardens?” echoed Heath that evening. “But Rotten Row is in Hyde Park, surely?”
“Yes, it is,” agreed Bobby, who had once spent a dismal Easter in London, and found the parks one of the slight compensations for the loss of her wonderful old school on the South Downs. “Kensington Gardens is all poodles, nannies, Peter Pan, and the Round Pond.”
“Perhaps they’ll have a pond jump there,” suggested Heath, half seriously.
“Perhaps. With a tarmac take off, a cement landing, and dozens of toy boats floating on the water,” retorted Bobby. “Not to mention the ducks. But they must be having the cross-country course somewhere round there. I suppose they’ll put jumps up round the park, though it certainly seems an odd idea. They’ll have to clear the deck chairs away, put tan down on the paths, and rope the course off like they do at the big events. They’ll need mounted stewards with whistles as well, or everyone will get ridden down. Phoenix will go completely mad. Isabel must have got it wrong.”
Heath agreed. “Perhaps it’s at Wimbledon, or somewhere like that,” she suggested. “Or Kingston sounds rather like Kensington.”
“That must be it,” agreed Bobby, beginning to mend a tear in her old pullover.
But the following day Isabel confirmed the fact that it was in Kensington Gardens. “In a paddock connected to the park,” she explained. “They always hold it there, though I’ve never been before. It’s supposed to be great fun.”
Bobby had only ridden Phoenix for half an hour that morning, as she wanted to give Isabel a good lesson, which started with half an hour’s ordinary schooling in the field, and a few minutes in the school, Isabel being made to ride with longer stirrups than usual for dressage, and for part of the time with no stirrups at all, to get her right down into the saddle. Bobby made her push Phoenix into his bridle all the time, making him go on to the bit, with his hocks under him, and head in the correct position, changing from ordinary to strong trot, and back again, practising transitions from walk to trot, and trot to canter, half halts, and the various school figures, before going on to jumping. Then Bobby told Isabel to take her stirrups up several holes, and began to set out the fences while she got used to them. Today she had decided on four small jumps, one in the centre of the school, one at an angle at the side of it, and two by the boards.
To start with Bobby would not let Isabel jump Phoenix from anything more than a trot, circling between fences, taking them from different angles, stopping to back, or turn on the forehand, until the horse would even trot over them on a loose rein, and Isabel was beginning to look thoroughly safe, and even slightly bored. Then she let them try the same kind of manoeuvres at a slow canter, until Phoenix was going as steadily as a police horse, and Isabel seemed perfectly at home, and able to do anything with him. Then Bobby moved the jumps, gave her pupils five minutes walking on a loose rein, and the lesson was over. Phoenix, as cool as when they had started, was returned to his box, and Isabel started for home, by bus today, after booking another lesson for the same time next day. Bobby helped Heath with the evening chores, left her with a fairly easy late ride, and dashed off to change and catch the bus for Hestonbridge to see Guy.
Guy was doubtful when she told him about Isabel and the team, and described Phoenix’s behaviour, but amused by the idea of a combined training event in Kensington Gardens.
“I think I have heard of the Kensington Club’s shows before,” he told Bobby. “It’s a shame that the Goldmans are rushing things, but if you go on as you are with Isabel and Phoenix they should be all right, I think. If you really don’t think it’s safe when the time comes send Mrs. Goldman to see me, and I’ll attempt to change their minds. Did Mrs. Vauxhall let you know whether June arrived safely?”
They had let him know that June was sold, but neither of them had been to see him since until today.
“Yes, she telephoned that evening,” replied Bobby. “Apparently June is settling very well.”
“Good,” Guy looked relieved. “Did Heath seem very upset about her going?”
“Well, she didn’t like it,” said Bobby truthfully. “But she does agree that we can use the money, and June should have a good enough home.”
“Yes. Though I wish I hadn’t had to sell her,” said Guy. “How’s Shelta? You’re going to Crossly this week-end I hope?”
“I don’t know. Heath was going, with June,” replied Bobby. “But now I suppose I shall go, with Yoland and Coffee.”
“Yes. You must keep on going to shows,” Guy told her. “You’ve got to keep thinking of your own and Shelta’s careers before the stables.”
“I’ll go to as many as I can,” Bobby promised him. She went on to talk about some of their clients, and their progress, intent on what she was saying, as the bars of sunlight moved slowly across the parquet floor, and touched the foot of the beds, and her soft, somewhat wind-blown hair. Guy lay watching her, attempting to take an interest in what she was saying, but finding it difficult to remember many of the people whom she mentioned. It all seemed so long ago. He sometimes felt as though he had been lying in this long, light room for years, and that he would never leave it. Bobby and Heath appeared from time to time with long descriptions of lessons or accidents, the progress of young horses, or the happenings at a show, but they frequently missed out some connecting detail, so that the sequence of events became muddled, some new rider suddenly appeared in their stories, or Jupiter was being used to accompany rides, when only yesterday it seemed he had been ridden off the lunge for the first time.
It was like trying to follow a serial story, missing an episode now and then, and attempting to catch up on the details in the next instalment. Bobby came to the end of a long story about the son of one of the workmen engaged on the rebuilding who wanted to become a jockey when he left school, and realised that the buzzer had gone for the end of visiting hour. She stood up to go, and Guy watched enviously as she walked away down the ward, out of the permanent atmosphere of disinfectant, furniture polish, and ether, towards the freshness of the Surrey countryside, the warm, rain washed hills, and the pine scented, gorse starred commons, back to the reality of Bracken stables, his last memory of which was a luridly lighted, pain blurred picture of ruin. He only knew what it looked like now from the sketchy descriptions given him by the two girls, and he found it impossible to imagine it. According to Heath they were making just enough money to manage their expenses each week, without touching the small amount of insurance money that was to partly pay for the rebuilding, though most of Guy’s savings had disappeared during the first anxious weeks. The girls swore that they took their full wages, but he could not be certain that they did, and Mrs. Joyce was just able to run the house and pay Lucy, her husband, and herself from what was left. And there were still the quarterly payments on Cedarwood to be found. Heath had told him that she kept enough back each week to manage those, but how they were doing it all he did not know. The money for June would help, but if they bought two quiet, reliable horses for the school it would soon be gone, and from what he had heard they badly needed those quiet horses. But the most maddening part of all was that, while he was forced to lie here, he could do nothing to help.
During the next fifteen days Bobby frequently felt that there was no time even to breathe. Isabel came daily for lessons, and Bobby also rode Phoenix herself almost every day for at least half an hour, besides strapping both him and Shelta hard, and helping Heath with the riding school horses, and Jupiter and Scotch. They decided to manage with only one new horse, as money was so difficult, and they could use much of the three hundred and fifty from June towards paying the builders and other expenses. They were lucky in finding a horse through a reliable dealer friend of Guy’s. It was an aged, but quite sound, dun gelding, fifteen two hands high, and very sensible, though no slug. His name was Sand Piper, and at fifty-five pounds he was incredibly cheap. He could be quite bold enough when necessary, and had been a brilliant hunter in his youth. He was instantly popular with almost all their older clients.
Jupiter was going quite well now. He could be used to escort the safer rides, and he proved quite easy to school once his first freshness had worn off before each lesson. Scotch’s progress was slower, he was fairly sensible, but far less quick to learn than the big bay, and he was rather lazy. They still had almost as many riders as they could cope with, although a number of regulars had ceased to come, owing to their shortage of horses, and Guy’s absence, but they had no letter from Bracken House, and both girls had more or less given that up as a bad job.
Work on the rebuilding was by now progressing at a reasonable speed, and lorries and workmen constantly filled the old yard, making it impossible to use those few boxes that were still standing, even when they had been repaired.
In spite of their assurances to Guy, neither Bobby nor Heath usually took their full wages each week, as they preferred to let the money go towards keeping Bracken stables going, and several times they found themselves short of money for something they needed. In one bad week, during which heat and frequent thunderstorms caused many riders to cancel, Bobby found herself without money for either toothpaste or stamps, and had to wait until the following week to post her letters to the Camberwells and Silvia, as no one had anything left to lend her. Mrs. Joyce worked miracles of economy, and yet made certain that no one went hungry, even if they had to manage without floor polish, and with only one bar of soap in the house, and did their own washing, instead of sending it to the laundry. Mrs. Joyce and Lucy also began to do the household linen themselves.
Also, in spite of her promise to Guy, Bobby missed several shows owing to the cost of petrol and entry fees, and the pressure of work at Bracken, and instead she spent the days struggling with rides in the hot indoor school or trailing them round the lanes, teaching Isabel, and schooling Phoenix and Scotch, trying not to think of all the fun that she was missing, the excitement of the competitions, the meetings with friends and rivals on the noisy, crowded show grounds, which would smell of crushed grass, petrol, warm horse, and clean leather, and the joy of being out alone in the big ring, with Shelta beneath her, both working with the smooth partnership which came from years of practice, as they cleared the big, brilliant fences in the green ring. But though she could have found plenty of other jobs in which show jumping would be her chief occupation, and to which she could have taken Shelta, Bobby would not even consider leaving Bracken, and Guy, not even if it meant the end of her show jumping career.
On the Monday of the week before the Kensington Club’s event Isabel took Phoenix for a hack with the Abbington Riding Club, to get him used to the grey pony, Forest Smoke, and Inga’s bay, Columbia, who would be his companions in the team. Apparently he went well, from Isabel’s report and Inga’s praise, and Isabel joined in with the practice ride which the club held at Bracken the next day. Phoenix got rather overexcited during this, seeming to think that jumping in company should be one long steeplechase, and flatly refusing to concentrate on any dressage. But although Isabel was obviously not in control during most of the ride, and was equally obviously somewhat unhappy on top of her excited, bouncing horse, Inga put it down to over freshness on Phoenix’s part, and assured Isabel that he would be all right on the day, “If he gets enough work during the rest of this week.”
The result of this was that Isabel insisted on riding Phoenix for two hours the next day, and asked Bobby to take him to Slade show on Thursday with Shelta, and to ride him as a late entry in the working hunter class, to give him some ring experience and some work. Bobby agreed, deciding that it might be a good idea, and on Thursday morning the two chestnuts were loaded into the box, which Mr. Joyce, as usual, drove. Phoenix travelled well, but he was rather excited when Bobby unloaded him, probably remembering what had happened at his last show, with the Goldmans. After Bobby had ridden him round for half an hour, letting him settle down and look about him, he became calmer, and by the time he entered the ring with a dozen others he was behaving like an old stager. Bobby was riding him in his usual jointed and drop noseband; he never wore a martingale, as they thoroughly upset him, though at times one could have been useful.
Phoenix was not as well bred as most of the other entries in his class, but his turn out and action prevented him from being badly outclassed, and when they left the ring, and re-entered singly to jump the small course of natural type fences he went far better than several of the more superiorly bred show horses, though it took Bobby all her time to hold him, and get him facing the right jump. They were finally placed fifth, and received the white highly commended rosette.
“Your horse is more of a jumper than a show horse,” the judge told Bobby. “He should do very well. Good luck!”
Bobby thanked him, and followed the other four finer made horses round the ring and out of the exit. Phoenix would certainly get round at Kensington, she decided, if Isabel could hold him. But she was afraid that Isabel might find that impossible.
Keith Rhodes was one of the few “stars” who had come to Slade, as most of the big jumping people were at a large agricultural show in Kent, and he was very interested in Phoenix, and remarked that it was a pity he had to be wasted on riding club events. “He’d be a good second horse for you,” he told Bobby, who pointed out that she had little time to jump two horses that season.
“It does seem ridiculous,” Keith told her. “There are dozens of girls who could do your job at Bracken, and leave you free to take a show jumping job with Shelta. Look, why not think about it? I know Hal is considering having a second rider, and I’m sure he’d jump at the chance of getting you to ride for him. And if you like I’m pretty certain I can find someone to take your place at Bracken.”
“It’s very kind of you, Keith, but I couldn’t leave,” Bobby told him. “It would be like deserting them, and I couldn’t let Guy down like that.”
“You’re very fond of Guy, aren’t you?” Keith asked her.
“Well, yes, I suppose I am,” Bobby was surprised. “He’s been very good to me, no one could ask for a better employer.”
“I suppose not,” agreed Keith, and left it at that. “Come on, there’s just time for a drink before the Open.”
Neither of them mentioned the subject of jobs again, though Shelta went on in her usual style to win the Open jumping, just beating Keith’s Citroen, who had four faults in the second jump off. Bobby felt very pleased with both horses, as the heavy box turned towards home with the two rosettes, the red and the white, pinned in the cab window.
Isabel was delighted with Phoenix’s success, and became suddenly convinced that nothing could go wrong on Sunday, in spite of the fact that he carted her right round the field after jumping part of the cross-country course, which he had taken at a speed far above that which Bobby thought advisable. Bobby sighed, and wondered whether to send Mrs. Goldman to discuss it with Guy. But Isabel was by now so determined to take Phoenix to Kensington that she doubted if it would make any difference, and Inga was being as encouraging as she knew how, and assured Isabel every time they met that everything would be all right on the day.
On Friday, besides jumping, Isabel took Phoenix through pony club dressage test Z, which she had by now successfully learned, and he certainly did go well. Dressage was, at present, both his and Isabel’s strong point, as he found nothing in it to excite him, and as long as her horse was calm Isabel was a perfectly capable rider. Her only trouble was her timidity about jumping, which Phoenix’s impetuousness did nothing to improve, and she was inclined to panic and forget all about keeping him balanced and on the bit when he began to get excited. If Bobby had had her way Isabel would not have ridden her horse in the ring for at least another month, but the Goldmans were determined to go to Kensington. Bobby warned them that Phoenix might prove a handful when he got there, but they refused to be put off. All that she could do was to get Isabel to improve as quickly as possible. Luckily she was more afraid of what he might do if she pulled at his mouth than she was of him running away with her, and so she was not likely to start fighting him, but Bobby did not like to think of them meeting a solid fence with the chestnut going at the speed at which he had crossed the last field back to the stables.
On the Saturday Bobby took Shelta to another show, with Yoland and Coffee, and Isabel rode Phoenix on a quiet hack with Heath to prevent him becoming bored by schooling, as the competition was the next day.
Mrs. Vauxhall was at the show with Phillipa, who was riding Magician and her other pony, Robin, and June Evening, who was to be ridden for the rest of the season, Bobby learned, by Jack Franks, who had been very successful the season before jumping horses for a big owner in the North. Phillipa would take over next season, by which time June should be Grade A, and Phillipa would be too old for Junior classes. They must have been working hard on June during the few weeks that she had been at Mrs. Vauxhall’s, decided Bobby. Her jumping had an extra polish, and she won the Grade B class with ease. Bobby was glad to see that she looked happy, she went with ears pricked, and seemed relaxed and comfortable, but then, Jack was an extremely good, sympathetic rider, and Bobby could not help wondering if she would go as well for Phillipa next season. And surely it would have been better if Phillipa was to start her career in senior jumping on a novice horse, instead of a fully fledged Grade A jumper.
Shelta was unlucky in the open class. She hit the first part of the big combination, got wrong at the second part, and refused. There were plenty of clear rounds, including two by Keith Rhodes, and so Shelta, for about the first time that season, was unplaced, and Coffee only managed third in the junior jumping, which was won by Phillipa Sydney on Magician. Bobby had a horrible feeling that the week-end was doomed to failure, as the box turned slowly out of the gate. And when they got home Heath reported that Isabel’s hack on Phoenix had not been a success either. They had been cantering up a lane past a field in which grazed two cart horses, and the huge animals had come thundering up to speak to them, and thoroughly upset Phoenix, who had taken off up the lane with Isabel, and started to leap when she tried to stop him.
“He calmed down eventually,” Heath went on. “But not before Isabel had lost her stirrups and landed on his neck. I thought she was off, but she managed to hang on to the mane.”
“Oh help,” said Bobby crossly. “Why ever did Inga have to suggest having Isabel and Phoenix in her beastly team? Tomorrow’s going to be complete chaos. Thank goodness I shan’t have to watch it, anyway.”
“But you will,” Heath told her. “Isabel is taking it for granted that you’re going with her tomorrow.”
“But I can’t possibly go,” cried Bobby. “What about all the work? I can’t have two days off in a row, anyway, and I had Thursday off as well, for Slade show.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it a day off,” replied Heath. “And I can manage quite easily. We only ride in the morning tomorrow, and I can take all three rides in the indoor school.”
“I’ll come down early to help,” promised Yoland. “You must go Bobby. You’ve got to keep the customers happy, and anyway, Isabel would be sure to panic on her own.”
“Yes. She probably wouldn’t even be able to bridle him,” agreed Heath. “Personally I’d far rather stay here. I don’t envy you tomorrow one little bit Bobby. But I just don’t see how we could have stopped her going. If we’d said we wouldn’t have her going from here, she’d only have taken Phoenix over to Low Lane, and gone anyway.”
“l know,” agreed Bobby. “It was pretty hopeless.”
By eight-thirty the following morning Phoenix was ready, polished to perfection, and wearing an elegant blue and white checked summer sheet, blue leg and tail bandages, and knee pads. His tack had been cleaned the previous evening, including his head collar, and Yoland had even whitened his rope for them. He was not plaited, as Isabel had told them that the other team horses would not be.
Just before eight-thirty Mr. Goldman delivered Isabel at the gate by car. The Goldmans were unable to attend the show, as they had guests coming to lunch. Isabel came hurrying through the yard, her long black plaits shining, resplendent in black coat and boots, fawn breeches, and white stock. She carried a well brushed black bowler hat in her hand. She was thrilled when she saw Phoenix, and could hardly take her eyes off him. Bobby, wearing clean fawn slacks, and her tan coloured whipcord jacket over a clean white shirt, with a brown tie, put the finishing touches to the horse, buckling on his supple, shining head collar, and giving a last brush to his mane. Then the hired four-horse box drew up at the gate, and she was leading Phoenix out of his loose box, and along the causeway to the yard. She loaded him to the accompaniment of a chorus of admiration from the other members of the team, and Isabel looked flattered. “You are lucky Isabel,” Adria was saying. “He’s wonderful.” “We shall never be able to live up to you,” said Dora.
Bobby, hoping that they would still be saying the same thing on the way home, fastened Phoenix carefully to a ring, bolted the partition, and helped the driver to raise the ramp. Then she climbed into the passenger compartment with Isabel and the other members of the Abbington and District Riding Club. The entire membership of the club was crammed into the little space, with the tack around their feet. The box rocked slowly forward, bound for London, and Heath and Yoland waved. Then Bracken stables were out of sight.