3. Blisters

I led Spud into the sawdust arena where everyone else was waiting.

‘Okay, first up, we’re going to learn how to groom our horses, something you’ll be doing every morning while you’re here on camp. It keeps them healthy, plus, it’s a great way to bond.’

Mikaela groaned.

‘Even if you’ve ridden before,’ said Mrs Bacton firmly, ‘it’s good to know how to groom a horse properly. Removing dirt, plaiting manes and polishing hooves – it all takes skill and effort. And, it’s good practice for the gymkhana. You’re all looking forward to the gymkhana, I hope?’

I stepped a little closer.

‘We’ll be awarding points for presentation as well as jumping and dressage, so it’s important that you—’

The smallest fly-spray girl shyly raised her hand.

‘Yes, Alice?’ asked Mrs Bacton.

‘You don’t have to jump, right?’

‘Oh, Alice.’ Mrs Bacton smiled. ‘That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To learn all aspects of riding? Hopefully, everyone will be jumping by the end of the week, even you. But … if anyone decides not to enter an event, for whatever reason, that’s okay. As I said, you can also score points for presentation, sportsmanship, and teamwork.’

Alice smiled nervously, and Mrs Bacton moved on. ‘Okay, so who knows what we call this part of a horse?’ She pointed to the small fringe of hair hanging between Joey’s ears.

‘Fetlock!’ I hadn’t meant to shout. It was just that I’d studied the names of every part of the horse before coming on camp, and I knew them off by heart.

A couple of the others laughed.

It was the fetlock, wasn’t it?

‘Close,’ said Mrs Bacton. ‘Anybody else?’

‘It’s the forelock,’ said Mikaela smoothly, flashing a smirk at me. ‘Whereas the fetlock’s just above the hoof. Completely different.’

My face burnt.

We continued through the parts of the horse, and then moved on to grooming tools. I knew the name of every brush, but I didn’t put up my hand.

‘So, let’s tie the horses to the rails,’ Mrs Bacton said after she’d explained all the brushes and how to use them, ‘and then I’ll let you get started.’

I started with the currycomb – my favourite. I’d bought a small grooming set with my pocket money a few months ago, and I’d been practising on our dog, Chewy. The currycomb was a hard brush with little knobbly bristles to clean out all the grime, and Chewy would arch his back with delight while dirt and hair flew everywhere.

I hoped it would be the same with a real, live horse.

‘Move over! Your hippopotamus is crowding me,’ Mikaela whined as I moved towards Spud’s side.

I pulled his lead rope closer, and he turned to look at me. His grey face was dotted with brown freckles, just like mine. His big eyes sparkled. He was kind of sweet.

I reached out to scratch him between the ears. My hand hadn’t even got close when he snorted hot air into my face. I jumped back. ‘Hey!’ I shouted. ‘What was that?’

Spud shook his mane and turned to face the front, as if nothing had happened. I frowned. Was that his idea of a joke? I gripped the currycomb and started brushing. I began with his shoulders, then his long front legs, and then along his thick, muscular back. Spud didn’t even look like moving, let alone kicking me. Or biting at my ear, like I’d seen other horses do. He leant towards me, his lips hanging loose as I brushed under his warm belly.

I hadn’t realised horses could be so funny. Spud might have been tall, but he was a big softy when it came to having a brush. After a while, I found myself scratching at his withers and stroking his silky neck. If I stopped, he turned his face and pushed my cheek with his nose. The fourth time he did it, I leant forwards and gently kissed his muzzle.

After brushing, we learnt how to plait manes, blacken hooves, trim tails, and tidy excess ear hair. Spud was perfect the whole time, apart from two or three snorts, but I soon learnt how to dodge them, and he gave up after a while.

When we were done, we lined up so Mrs Bacton could inspect our work.

‘Tail’s still knotty,’ she said to one of the pink twins.

‘Nice plaits. Good work.’ Alice, the girl who’d asked about the jumping, turned pink with pride.

‘Mmm, bit grubby,’ said Mrs Bacton, showing me the dirt on the palm of her hand.

I was about to complain that I wasn’t tall enough to reach the top of Spud’s wide back, but Mrs Bacton had moved along to Mikaela and was picking up Razz’s hooves.

‘Lovely,’ she said. ‘Nice and clean.’

It was all right for Mikaela. The palomino didn’t have feet the size of dinner plates.

Spud must have been bored watching the inspection, because he turned to nip at Joey’s cheek. Joey, who had been standing quietly beside us, flicked his ears back and threw his head in the air.

Alice squealed.

‘Sorry,’ I mumbled, pulling Spud away.

‘It’s okay. He’s just so tall,’ she said. ‘You must be a pretty good rider?’

‘Actually, no, this is my first time,’ I said, tugging Spud as he reached for Joey again.

‘No way! You look like you’ve been around horses forever.’

I stood a little straighter. ‘I do?’

‘Yeah, you’re brilliant. You sure you haven’t ridden before?’

‘Nope.’

‘Wow.’ Alice was holding Joey like he was a bomb about to explode – funny, because he looked so cute and little next to Spud.

‘Can you ride?’ I asked.

‘Who me? Sort of. I fell off once over a jump, but my mum’s from England, and since everyone in England knows how to ride, she won’t let me give up. This is, like, the third riding place we’ve tried, and I freak out every time I even look at a jump …’

‘Did you get hurt?’

‘Huh? Oh, like when I fell off? Yeah, I broke my collarbone.’

I’d researched broken collarbones when Matt fell off our trampoline. A person could either have a simple break and wear a sling, or they could have a crooked break, which meant they’d need an operation.

‘So, did you need surgery?’ I asked.

Alice started telling me how she only had to wear a sling, which was interesting because that was the same as Matt, but Mrs Bacton called out, ‘Lunch!’ and we saved the rest for later.

After lunch, Mrs Bacton showed us how to saddle up. We each slipped on a white helmet from the tack shed and waited beside our horse for further instructions. All except Mikaela. She’d brought her own sporty black helmet to match her long black boots, and before Mrs Bacton had even got to her, she saddled Razz and hopped straight on his back. She did look like the most experienced rider, and she had definitely scored the prettiest horse.

‘How long have you been riding?’ a fly-spray girl asked her.

‘Since forever,’ she said, patting Razz and tossing her long blonde hair.

Obviously. That’s why she’d got Razz, not an ex-racehorse like Spud.

I threw her a snaky look. She was definitely the one to beat at the gymkhana.

‘So, for our riding lesson today, girls, I’m going to divide you into two groups,’ said Mrs Bacton. ‘Beginners over here with me, and experienced riders over there. With Mikaela.’

Mikaela puffed out her chest as Mrs Bacton motioned towards her. The pink twins moved over and, once they were mounted, Mikaela led them around the outside track of the arena, where sawdust flicked in pale puffs behind their horses’ feet. They rode in an orderly straight line, all balanced and neat, their hands and feet hardly moving.

Alice, me, and the fly-spray girls stood with Mrs Bacton. My heart thumped. Spud seemed even taller with his saddle on. How would I balance, way up there? What if he threw me off the minute I plopped on his back?

‘Okay, girls, let’s mount up.’

My feet wouldn’t move. I could break my collarbone – or worse.

‘You all right?’ asked Mrs Bacton.

I heard Mikaela twitch her crop against her boots.

I sucked in a breath. ‘Yep, just checking my stirrups.’ I quickly pulled a stirrup leather under my arm. The hard iron was cool through my T-shirt. ‘Good, just right,’ I said. Like they’d been the last ten times I’d checked.

Spud turned his head, as if to see what was taking me so long. He blinked as he shifted his weight, and flicked away flies with his tail.

‘It’s not my fault you’re a giant,’ I whispered.

‘Here, give us a look at your girth.’ Mrs Bacton came over and checked the strap under Spud’s belly. Once it was tight, she gave his neck a friendly pat. ‘There you are,’ she said. ‘Good as gold. Right to hop on?’

Hop on? Spud was a Himalayan mountain.

She bent down and clasped her hands together to make a step by Spud’s side. ‘Put your foot in here,’ she instructed. ‘And hold the saddle with your right hand and his mane with your left.’

Right, left? Where? Which foot was I supposed to use?

‘Come on, you can do it. Spud’s not going anywhere.’

I took a deep breath and held on to Spud’s mane. I put my left foot in Mrs Bacton’s hands, and … one, two, three, I hauled myself up. Fumbling for the stirrups, I stuck my feet in where they belonged and sat up straight, feeling the strange leather of the saddle beneath me. It was different to what I expected. Wider. Higher. The saddle leather squeaked as I leant forwards to take up Spud’s reins.

‘Well done!’ Mrs Bacton reached for my foot to straighten it in the stirrup. ‘Ready?’

And so our first lesson began. The other beginners and I rode around and around a small yard within the arena, and I almost forgot to breathe, I was concentrating so hard. Legs down, hands still, bottom deep in the saddle. Sit upright or tip off. Spud didn’t seem to care that I bumped and wriggled and jiggled all over his back, and I only stayed on because he was as wide as a table. He didn’t go fast. He didn’t go slow. He simply fell into step with the other horses and didn’t miss a beat.

When I occasionally remembered to look up, I caught a glimpse of the experienced riders going around the outside track of the arena. Mikaela was definitely the best. Her legs didn’t flap around, and her hands sat neat and still. If only I could ride like that.

By the end of the afternoon, my legs ached and I’d grown fat blisters on my thumbs and fingers from gripping the reins. My head was a whirl of instructions, but I wore a huge grin on my face. I’d finally learnt how to ride.

Wait till I told Matt and Gus back home!