Twenty-Six

The weather gods looked down on Garwood more favourably on cross country day. The sky was a glorious azure blue, marred only by fluffy aeroplane streaks, and there was a gentle breeze to keep the flags fluttering and the day cool.

Katie, quaking with nerves, was listening to Roger’s last-minute instructions. His two rounds were both after lunch, and their final course walk at seven o’clock that morning had done nothing to ease her concerns.

Shelley was leading The Mechanic around them as they talked. She had a strange sense of apprehension; it was certainly the biggest course The Mechanic had ever faced, and she hoped they would both be alright. The ground was terrible. There had already been a number of casualties taken away in the horse ambulance, and the air ambulance had taken one rider with suspected spinal injuries to the Trauma Unit in Aberdeen.

Katie, Shelley thought, was obviously a tangle of nerves as she always was before cross country, but today was different. There was a blackness to her that she was trying her best to hide from the others, but Shelley knew she was hurting badly. She had arrived at the party in the marquee last night very sober, and when Shelley had asked her about the cocktail party, Katie had suggested that the edited highlights would be more interesting.

‘Argument with the boss, tits fondled by Charles, followed by another row with the boss.’ She drained her first vodka in one gulp. ‘Perfectly sums up my entire life at the moment.’

After another vodka, Shelley had found her snogging Martin and had tried to prise her away, knowing damn fine she would regret it today. Initially, Katie was adamant in telling Shelley to mind her own business, but when Shelley made it back to the lorry half an hour later, Katie was already tucked up in bed, hiccupping tears.

Charles Dee, red faced with excitement, wearing his long, waxed coat despite the glorious sunshine, was standing where he could see the start and finish. He noticed Daisy taking selfies for Instagram and Margaret, sweating in her new tweed suit, studying Roger and Katie through her binoculars. He briefly wondered what the hell they were doing, standing in the middle of a muddy field in Scotland, and looked down the hill to where his horse was circling around the tall figure of Roger and Katie in her bright-pink colours. The horse was costing a fortune, and he still hadn’t broached the subject of sponsorship with Roger. The idea of the Dee Garages’ logo on the side of Roger’s lorry had once excited him enormously, but that was before Katie had appeared on the scene, and now it was her that excited him. Three times she had ignored his subtle advances, and he wondered how he could speak to her alone and make it clear that if she fancied a bit of rest and recuperation time with him, he was most certainly up for it.

He glanced at Margaret gazing through her binoculars at the gaggle of people around their horse. Her hair had been coloured in preparation for their weekend away and, despite also being waxed to within an inch of her life, she still slept in a full-length nightie, an eye mask and a set of ear plugs to block out his snoring. It didn’t really matter anyway, he thought. Even if she came to bed wearing stockings and suspenders, it still wouldn’t disguise the fact that she looked like a famine victim. Picturing Katie in red suspenders and black fishnets, he smiled at his wife as she lowered her binoculars. Margaret, seeing the look of unrestrained lust in his eyes, wondered if he’d been watching porn on his phone again.

‘Ride forward, but keep a hold of him.’ Roger put his hand under Katie’s knee and threw her into the saddle. ‘If he’s struggling, don’t think twice about pulling him up. Not many are getting around, but if he is getting tired, stay off his back and see if you can nurse him home.’ He watched her collect her reins and gave The Mechanic a little pat, unexpectedly feeling a sense of trouble. ‘Good luck.’

‘Thank you.’ She said it automatically and kept her eyes on The Mechanic’s ears.

Having had no appetite for the past few days, Roger refused Caitlyn’s offered bacon roll and went off to watch Katie’s cross country alone.

He was trying to keep his thoughts together and had fought with his concentration during their final walk around the cross country course that morning. He had his own course to remember and was desperately trying to make sure Katie was confident about her own course, as if in a stupid way to try and make up for breaking her heart. Katie’s mood was shifting from being desperately needy and spitting fire at him in the blink of an eye. He knew she was hurt, and he felt dreadful and annoyed with himself for becoming so close to her.

The thought of her leaving was too awful to contemplate. Not only would he lose a brilliant rider, but Shelley would lose her best friend and he would be back to being on his own with only Shelley or Daniel to bounce his ideas off. Reserved ideas. There was always a part of him that he held back, the part of him that he had let Katie see. Talking to her was like talking to Daniel, only he never felt the need to guard his feelings because he knew she was as deep as the ocean. He could talk to her about anything, and she always gave both her honest opinion and a sensible solution. She was a source of reassurance to him that was both constant and positive, and they had been able to idle away the many hours travelling together very easily. He sighed heavily, clenching his jaw and his fists, and wished he had stuck to his resolution of never getting involved with his staff. This was a mess, and it was all his doing. He had lost grooms before after crossing boundaries but had never lost a rider as good as her. This wasn’t just a mess, he thought, this was a total disaster.

He saw the tension in her shoulders as she rode The Mechanic around behind the start box, and he closed his eyes briefly, wishing he could go across and talk to her. As if she felt what he was thinking, she halted The Mechanic, rolled her shoulders back and tipped her chin upwards towards the clear sky. In his mind, he could hear the deep click that would have been emitted from the bottom of her sternum and, suddenly, she glanced across at him as if she could feel him watching her. She held his stare for a moment before she turned The Mechanic away.

‘Two minutes,’ advised the starter.

Miss Mac and Mrs Fleming Bowen were waiting at the beginning of the course on their hired off-road mobility scooters. They had planned their route across the course meticulously, with the aim to see The Mechanic jump every fence. Miss Mac checked her map one last time.

Joanna had kept out of the way, accepting that Roger seemed much better at keeping Katie calm, and cross country day was always fraught with nerves and drama. Seeing Roger standing alone, she walked across and stood beside him.

‘Would you rather be on your own?’ she asked politely.

He shook his head, giving her a tight-lipped smile. ‘Are you nervous?’

‘It’s more nerve-wracking watching, than doing it yourself.’

‘Did you event?’

She nodded.

‘To what level?’ He was watching The Mechanic circle closer to the start box as the starter called out there were thirty seconds to go.

‘Advanced.’

He gave a low whistle and glanced at her with a new-found respect. ‘Katie never told me.’

‘She’s always wanted to reach the top under her own steam, not by being her mother’s daughter.’ Joanna adjusted her engagement ring instinctively before adding that she hadn’t been that good and had only been placed at Burghley twice.

‘Five, four, three.’ The starter was gazing intently at his watch.

Katie turned The Mechanic’s head, and he leapt from the start box. Come on, mate, she thought, let’s show them what we can do.

Charles Dee snatched his wife’s binoculars from around her neck and almost strangled her. Miss Mac and Mrs Fleming Bowen set off on their scooters, and Caitlyn clutched Tom’s arm.

The Mechanic soared over the brush fence at number three, and Katie sent him on up the hill to jump the whisky barrels of number four.

‘Sweetie, you’re going to have to cut your nails before your darling Warrior goes around.’

Caitlyn looked down and saw nail marks in Tom’s arm.

The Mechanic had jumped up through the sunken road at six and Shelley, holding her breath, saw him bounce cleanly over the hedge at seven and the black rails of eight before he disappeared out of sight behind the hill.

‘Katie Holland is clear at nine,’ the speaker crackled above Tom and Caitlyn’s head as Shelley, wishing she smoked, walked aimlessly around staring at the grass. ‘And we have a new starter, Rory Davison and Peethofsky, who are safely over the first, as The Mechanic is clear at ten and eleven.’

Joanna gripped Roger’s hand.

‘Peethofsky clear at two, and on a dressage score of twenty-four while out in the country, The Mechanic is clear at twelve and taking the direct route at thirteen.’

Miss Mac and Mrs Fleming Bowen were being thwarted by the throng that had gathered around the water jump.

‘I’m very old and disabled!’ boomed Miss Mac, and the crowds parted to let them through to the front.

Shelley saw The Mechanic coming back into view splattered with mud, Katie’s face turning pink with exertion.

Sitting well back as he jumped down into the water, she sat up to drive him over the tree trunk and then hung left to jump up the step, bringing him neatly to the narrow rails.

‘Bloody hell, that was good.’ Roger realised Joanna was hanging onto his hand and gently let it go.

‘Rory Davison is clear at fence number six, and The Mechanic is through the water, again taking the direct route, Katie Holland riding for Charles and Margaret Dee, on a dressage score of twenty-eight.’

Katie patted The Mechanic’s neck as they galloped on. He was jumping superbly, that wonderful sound as he exhaled, and he was hardly pulling at all. She sat down as they approached the enormous wooden mushrooms that were number fifteen; he was starting to labour slightly, and she jumped the fence to the right where the ground was less churned.

Miss Mac watched closely as The Mechanic passed her; the horse was starting to look tired in the heavy going.

‘We’re nearly home,’ Katie told him. ‘We’re nearly there and you are brilliant.’ They jumped down the drop fence; Katie, clinging tightly to her reins, knew she was going to have to ride him carefully to get him home. He hit the next fence hard with a loud bang and twisted to the left as he landed. Two more, she thought, sitting down and closing her legs around him to hold him together. Two more. She again took him to the very right of the roll top for the better ground and let him ease down a gear so she could balance him down the hill to the final fence. She positioned him to the right of the hedge and realised that, unless she had stuffed up somewhere or had missed a flag, they were going to go clear.

‘He’s very tired,’ observed Joanna as they landed over the hedge.

‘But they’re clear, and Charles will be a happy man.’ Roger was beginning to relax.

‘As long as he doesn’t stroke her bottom again,’ mused Joanna.

Katie let The Mechanic gradually slow on the run-in, completing the course in a sluggish, exhausted canter to the applause of the crowd along the ropes. Laughing with joy and relief, she patted his sweating neck again and again. Shelley was running alongside the horse as his trot became a walk, patting his neck as Katie hung out of the saddle to put an arm around her friend’s shoulders.

‘There’s something wrong with him.’ Roger was watching the horse as Shelley and Katie celebrated and Joanna looked at him in alarm. ‘He’s…’

The Mechanic’s walk suddenly became disjointed and, as he began to stagger, his hindquarters sank to the ground. In slow motion, his shoulder fell sideways and, as Katie found her left foot on the ground, she jumped away from him in panic. Not knowing what was happening, she flipped the reins over his head and started to encourage him to get up.

Swearing, Roger started to run towards them as The Mechanic, now almost fully on his back, hindlegs sticking straight up in the air, rolled deliberately back onto his side, his uppermost hindleg sticking out poker straight.

The sandy-haired vet waiting at the finish to check The Mechanic’s heart rate was quicker than Roger and, as he sprinted across to where The Mechanic lay, radioed for a doctor and the horse ambulance.

‘There’s no time, get back!’ he shouted as Katie gathered up the reins at the horse’s head.

‘What’s happening?’ Caitlyn asked Tom in horror.

‘It’s a heart attack sweetie.’ He put his arms around her and turned her away. ‘Don’t look.’

Daisy was covering her mouth with her hands.

‘What is he doing?’ Margaret was looking through her binoculars.

Charles didn’t answer.

The Mechanic’s limbs went rigid, and then he began to jerk violently. Roger grabbed Katie’s shoulder and pulled her back as the horse’s front legs thrashed aggressively towards her. Within ten seconds, The Mechanic was completely still.

The horse ambulance was racing across the turf, and the commentator announced that there was a hold on the course. Shelley was covering her face with her hands, and Katie could hear crying from the crowd. Someone was trying to pull her away, and she looked down at Roger’s hand on her arm.

‘I’m not leaving him.’ She prised off his fingers and knelt beside The Mechanic’s head, stroking his face, covering his glassy, unseeing eye with her hand.

The crew from the horse ambulance were rushing around them, holding the green screens up as high as they could, trying to hide The Mechanic’s lifeless body from the anguished eyes of the crowds. Roger heard someone shouting that no one was allowed past the screening as Tom and a sobbing Caitlyn fought their way past the vet’s assistants. Shelley was standing looking at The Mechanic in shock, watching tears pouring down Katie’s face as she crouched over his pretty head. Roger dropped his arm from Katie’s shoulders and sat back on the mud, pressing his forehead to his bent knees.

‘How long do we have?’ he asked the vet.

‘As long as you need. Would you like me to take the bridle off?’ The vet looked around the ashen faces.

Roger shook his head. ‘No, I’ll do it.’ He got to his feet and, after calmly lifting Katie’s hand from the flat cheekbone, he carefully pulled the headpiece over the floppy ears, tucked The Mechanic’s tongue back into the half-open mouth and smoothed down the soft lips with a gentle hand. Looking at Shelley, he quietly asked her to take the horse’s boots off and went to remove the saddle. He unfastened the girth and with the help of the vet, they pulled the muddy saddle out from underneath the horse. Shelley was snapping the plastic tape off The Mechanic’s boots, automatically putting the pieces into the pouch of her hoody. Katie still knelt at his head, and she leant down and kissed his hot face, still unable to comprehend what had just happened and just how rapidly it had happened.

‘We should go.’ Roger hitched her saddle onto his hip.

Shelley put down her armful of boots, crouched down to give The Mechanic a final kiss on the side of his soft nose and, after asking for a pair of scissors, cut off a strand of his muddy tail.

Roger watched Katie as she pulled a few hairs from the unplaited mane and silently handed them to a sniffling Caitlyn. She then pulled out some more, tied them neatly in a knot and zipped them securely into her breeches pocket.

‘Come on.’ He put his arm around her shoulder. ‘You don’t want to see him loaded; let’s go.’

She looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time, and shrugged off his arm.

There was a collective moan from the bystanders as Roger emerged from a gap made in the screening, carrying the saddle and bridle. The uninitiated now knew for certain, seeing the saddlery and boots being brought outside the hastily erected tent, that the horse was not going to get up again. The horse ambulance was being reversed up to the screens, and Shelley saw the shocked faces of the spectators.

‘Go to the lorry, all of you. Wait for me there.’ Handing the saddle to Tom, Roger turned to speak to Charles.

Charles and Margaret were in complete shock. Margaret was shaking and Charles, who up until that moment genuinely thought horses just galloped and jumped all their life without encountering any complications, could not grasp what he had just seen.

‘It’s not common, but it does happen, and I am sorry that everyone had to witness it. Nothing could have been done.’

‘What was it?’ Margaret was hanging onto Charles’s arm.

‘Most usually it’s a ruptured aorta; it’s very quick.’

Strangers were offering their sympathies as Roger walked off the course, and he was glad to reach the inner sanctum and familiar faces of the lorry park.

Shelley had boiled the kettle and put four spoons of sugar in Katie’s coffee. India, having heard the news, flung open the door and, with tears pouring down her face, told them she was so sorry. Receiving a nod of acknowledgement from Shelley, she quietly closed the door again. No one spoke, and Katie was trembling so badly she was holding her mug in both hands.

‘Why did it happen now?’ cried Caitlyn.

Shelley turned away from them on the sofa and pulled down the blind above the sink. They needed a moment to grieve.

There was a silence as Roger came in, his phone ringing madly. Rejecting the call, it immediately rang again.

‘It’s an awful thing to happen,’ he said at last, ‘but I’ve got two horses to ride this afternoon, and I need you all to focus.’ His phone rang again and he switched it off. ‘There was nothing anyone could have done.’

‘It’s alright – we know the drill.’ Shelley’s voice was thick, and she kept her back to him. ‘What time do you want to be on Bluebell?’

‘Quarter past.’ He glanced at Katie. Her hair was plastered back with sweat, face drained of any colour, and her eyes were black with grief. ‘It could have happened at any time.’ He felt a wrench in his chest as she looked at him, and he saw the pain in her eyes.

Shelley turned to face him. ‘We’ll have Bluebell ready at quarter past, what about…’ Her voice trailed away as she saw the look of fury on Roger’s face.

‘What is it?’ Katie put her mug down on the table with an unsteady hand. ‘What are you staring at?’

‘Roger?’ Shelley looked from him to Katie. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘It didn’t go off.’

‘Help us out here, Roger?’ Shelley was frowning.

‘Her air jacket didn’t inflate. The lanyard disconnected from her saddle, and it didn’t bloody go off!’ He took two strides across the living area and hauled Katie to her feet. Instinctively, she grabbed his arm to stop him and, seeing the blistering fury in his eyes, she tried to push him away.

‘What are you doing to her?’ Tom was struggling to get his long legs out from under the table. ‘Roger, she’s had a terrible fright, we all have!’

Roger stopped. His hand was gripping the shoulder of her body protector and, as Katie’s grip on his arm slackened, he touched her cheek gently with his other hand. It was a tiny gesture, but it was so tender and intimate, it made Shelley want to look away. He unzipped the pocket on the front of the pink jacket and, with a push and a twist, he removed the air canister. Examining the bottom of it, he saw there was a hole where the trigger had previously hit it. It was empty.

‘You changed this, after you fell with Paperchase. I watched you do it. I watched you reset the trigger.’

She swallowed and nodded.

‘I said Pippa had done something else! I told you to check everything!’

‘We thought we had, Roger.’ Shelley could tell he was about to lose it altogether.

Giving a yell of rage, he threw the canister as hard as he could to the floor and stormed out.

Shelley looked at the vacant cylinder that was slowly rolling to a stop. ‘We thought we’d checked everything. We checked every stitch in every bridle; we checked stirrups, girth straps, boots and hats.’ She looked at Katie. ‘We didn’t check air canisters.’

‘It’s okay,’ Tom’s voice was calm, ‘she didn’t need it to inflate today.’

‘But it might have been like that for ages.’ Caitlyn’s face was still pale after Roger’s outburst.

‘Can you get Roger’s air jacket out of the wardrobe, please?’ said Katie quietly. ‘I need to check it.’

Shelley went into the back of the lorry to call him.

‘What?’ he asked sharply.

‘Yours was a used one too. We’ve changed it. Well, Katie has.’ She bit her lip; she could hear the commentary in the background of the silence.

‘Thank you.’

‘Stay here or go out onto the course to watch Bluebell,’ Shelley told Katie. ‘We can get them ready for him; you need some time.’

‘I think I’ll stay here for a while.’ Tears ran down her face. ‘Poor Mechanic, he’s almost been overshadowed by some crazy woman disabling air jackets. I can’t believe what’s happened and he’s gone too.’

Tom took her hand. ‘And what better way to go, after a glorious clear around such a tough course? He was brilliant today, and so were you.’

‘There’ll be your video and photos.’ Caitlyn dabbed her eyes.

As Tom bore Caitlyn off to the photographer’s stand, Shelley took a deep breath and headed off to what she knew would be the shocked silence and wary glances of the stables.

Tom bought every photo of The Mechanic on the cross country course and then, heading down the line of stands to the little antique stall, he bought a silver frame. The picture of Katie, eyes wide open as they jumped down into the sunken road, The Mechanic, ears fiercely pricked forward as he assessed the jump out, fitted perfectly. He would wait, he thought, he would give it to her at Christmas once the pain had lessened.

Back at the lorry, Katie stood in the shower crying uncontrollably.

Looking down at the foam circling the plughole, she took a deep breath. Roger, the total bastard, was right. She couldn’t ignore the fact that he had two rides this afternoon and, turning off the water, she wrapped herself in last night’s damp towel, padded across the muddy floor in her bare feet and pulled down the blinds. Hearing the outside door being opened, she pulled her towel higher around her and almost cried with relief when Joanna opened the inner door.

‘I’m sorry – it was horrible to watch, and I can’t begin to imagine how you’re feeling.’ Joanna hugged her.

After struggling to hold it all together in front of everyone else, in front of her mum she let her emotions surge out like a flash flood. The emotion was too much for her to contain: the loss of The Mechanic, the empty cylinder in her jacket, the feeling of unrequited love. It was all a complete mess.

‘It’s been the most terrible week,’ she sobbed. ‘I really like him, and he said it would be different if I was older or he was younger.’

‘Roger?’ she asked, knowing that it was and feeling awfully guilty for suggesting he drive her back to Garwood after dinner on Wednesday evening.

Katie nodded against her shoulder. ‘I don’t know what to do. I can’t stay.’

Joanna sat for a moment, holding her tightly. ‘I wouldn’t make any rash decisions; it’s different when you’re away from home and in the competition bubble.’ She moved away and they met eyes. ‘It’s very different to being at home.’

Katie got up, tore off a piece of kitchen roll and blew her nose. ‘I don’t think I can stand seeing him every day.’ She opened the cupboard door under the sink and threw the tissue in the bin. ‘He’s everything I ever dreamed he would be.’

‘You can still be his friend,’ Joanna’s words were unhurried, ‘and he is an awful lot older than you.’

‘Don’t.’ She sat back down, shivering slightly in her wet towel. ‘I shouldn’t have told you.’

Joanna hugged her again. ‘I was young once – I do understand. And you were obviously going to be attracted to him – he is very handsome – and as Madonna once said, “power is the greatest aphrodisiac”.’

‘It wasn’t like that, Mum; I’m not some stupid groupie. He’s just… he’s wonderful, and I have never felt like this before about anyone, and now, to top it all off, I’ve lost The Mechanic too.’ She started to cry again and used her towel to wipe her eyes.

‘Do you love him?’

Katie looked at her and then gave a tiny nod.

They sat for a moment, and when they heard the outer door being opened, Katie hurriedly wiped her eyes again.

Roger opened the door slowly and took in a tearful Katie wrapped in a blue towel and Joanna giving him a very cool look. He knew immediately they had been talking about him.

‘Sorry, but I need to change.’ He put down his breeches and navy top.

‘We’ll talk later.’ Joanna gave her daughter a final squeeze and left.

‘You can stay; I don’t mind,’ he said, as Katie got up to go into the shower to get dressed.

‘I mind.’ She picked up some clothes from her open bag. It seemed an awfully long time since Monday night when he had helped her pack.

‘Katie?’ He sounded tired.

She gave him the same cool stare that her mother had administered a minute earlier.

‘I’m sorry about The Mechanic, and I really meant what I said, about things being different if I was younger.’ He put his hand on her bare shoulder and gently stroked her collarbone with his thumb.

‘I didn’t think you could make it any worse,’ she turned back to look at him from the doorway, ‘but you just have.’

Bluebell Folly looked magnificent in the start box. Gleaming white in the sunlight, he stood rock solid, white tail fanning out in the breeze, heart hammering, his kind, dark eyes on the roped-off track he was about to gallop along. The starter counted out loud from ten to one and, with a leap, Bluebell burst out and was on his way. In the lorry park, Katie slid open the window above the sofa so she could listen to the commentary.

The water jump was Bluebell’s undoing. As he jumped the log in the middle of the pond, he didn’t lock onto the narrow fence on the exit and ducked around the side. Knowing that, with an extra twenty penalties to add for the refusal, there was little point in rushing the horse, Roger proceeded to give Bluebell a lovely confidence-giving round. He finished well over the optimum time but was delighted with the horse, giving him enormous slaps of praise down his shoulder as he trotted around to cool him down.

Shelley and Caitlyn had washed him off by the time Katie returned to the stables. She noticed someone had hung The Mechanic’s rug over his empty door and, pushing it out of the way, she removed the card with The Mechanic’s name on and put it in the back pocket of her jeans.

Roger was sitting on a plastic box outside Cooper’s stable drinking a bottle of water, his blond hair damp with sweat.

‘Is Bluebell okay?’

‘He’s lost a shoe, but he’s alright.’ He wondered if this was the start of a truce. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Terrible,’ she replied and gave him a cold glare as he offered her the bottle of water.

Josh led Petra’s bay horse past, kitted up in its yellow cross country boots.

‘Good luck,’ called Roger.

‘Sorry about The Mechanic, horrible thing to happen. Martin says if you need cheering up, Katie, he’s up for a rematch.’ He winked.

‘Martin?’ Roger saw Katie’s face turn scarlet.

‘Come on.’ Tom ushered Roger up from where he was sitting. ‘We all need cheering up, and Petra’s about to go cross country.’

As Warrior was ready and waiting just to be tacked up, Tom ordered Caitlyn outside as well to listen to Petra’s round.

‘I don’t understand.’ Caitlyn was itching to get back to her charge.

‘Shush, shush, just listen, sweetie.’ Tom was clutching the metal security fencing that surrounded the stables, and even Roger was looking amused.

Gavin Brooks, sitting high up in the glass-fronted commentary box, was doing the afternoon shift.

‘And away from the start is number three-four-two, this is Petra Williams and Absolutely Naked, on a dressage score of thirty-one; Cathy Marks and Travallio are clear at twelve and heading strongly on to fence number thirteen.’

‘Come on, come on, bloody say it,’ muttered Tom.

‘Rory Davison and Seascape Artist are home with provisionally no jumping penalties to add, while Petra Williams, riding Absolutely Naked…’

The rest of Gavin’s sentence was drowned by hysterical laughter.

‘Did you give her that horse to ride, Roger?’ Tom was wiping his eyes.

Once Gavin had also found the joke in Petra’s horse’s name, he proceeded to use the same words at practically every fence.

‘Petra, riding Absolutely Naked, is clear at five; Cathy Marks has had a problem at fifteen but she’s bringing Travallio quickly around for a second attempt, and he jumps it well. Petra Williams, riding Absolutely Naked, is clear at six and seven.’

Shelley was hanging onto Tom, saying she had never laughed so hard in years. Laughing his head off, Roger suggested they had better get Warrior saddled.

Despite nearly bucking Roger off as he entered the start box, the powerful gelding ploughed through the mud to produce a fantastic clear and made himself the overnight leader going into the show jumping the next day.