Kelpie Curse: A Feyland Urban Fantasy Tale (The Celtic Fey Book 2) (6 page)

Turning back to the main farmyard, Corinne managed once more to sneak through without being noticed by the others. Ghost stood quietly just where she'd left him.

"I'm sorry, boy. After all that cleaning, we can't go to the show."

He gazed at her for a moment, then nudged her arm.

"I know. It's a shame." She rubbed his forehead. "Let's get you out to the field."

A minute later, she was running the gauntlet through the main farmyard again. But this time she had a sixteen-hand horse with her, and didn't manage to sneak through un-noticed.

"Corinne!" Mandy pulled a rubber band out of her mouth and waved a metal comb at Corinne. "He's looking good," she said, nodding at Ghost. "Are you going to the show?"

Corinne stopped, taken aback. Mandy was being nice? "Uh, I was. But Miss—But the car's broken down so I can't go after all. I'm just putting him back out to the field."

"Oh, that's a shame." The other girl looked genuinely disappointed. A strand of red hair escaped from her pigtail and she pushed it carelessly behind an ear. Then she glanced across at Sonya, who had paused in painting oil on her horse's hooves. "You could come with us, if you want. There's space in the lorry isn't there, Sonya?"

Sonya straightened up, her features a carefully arranged mask by the time she turned to face them. "Yeah, I suppose there is," she said through her teeth.

"Don't worry, it's fine, I didn't want to go to the show anyway." Corinne lied. She didn't want to owe any favours to Sonya. Who knew what the yard queen might ask for in return?

"Oh, don't be silly," Mandy said, pointing at Ghost. "See how nice you've got him. Of course you should go. Shouldn't she, Sonya?"

A look passed between the two girls, and Sonya shrugged, flicking her long black hair over a shoulder. "Yeah, sure."

"So that's it decided then." Mandy turned a beaming smile on Corinne. "Go and get your stuff loaded into the lorry and we'll leave as soon as these two are ready."

-::-

But 'as soon as these two are ready' turned out to be nearly an hour later. From what Corinne could see, the girls' horses had already been groomed to within an inch of their lives, but Sonya was still fussing over her bay with glossing sprays, cleaning wipes and cover-up powders.

Mandy, meantime, was making a ham-fisted job of plaiting her chestnut's mane.

After watching her struggle for a few minutes, Corinne offered to help. "Would you like a hand with that?"

"Oh, would you? Thanks. I hate plaiting."

With deft fingers, Corinne used the comb to section off the horse's mane and quickly braided the coarse brown hair, securing it with rubber bands.

When she'd finished, Mandy was gushing in her praise. "Oh, you're
so
good at that! My plaits always look like a bird's nest, with bits sticking out everywhere. How do you do them so tidily?" But she didn't wait for a reply. "I really
must
get you to do his plaits for every show." She made puppy-dog eyes at Corinne. "Would you do that for me?"

Feeling cornered, Corinne could only nod in reply. "Uh, sure."

C
LUTCHING
HER
COMPETITOR
number, Corinne exited the relative calm of the white canvas Secretary's Tent back into the bustle of the show ground.

Spectators rested legs and chatted lazily behind the white rope fencing that marked the edges of the rings. In contrast, competitors were either rushing, focused, or both—cantering round in circles to tire an over-excited horse; hastily brushing chalk onto an animal's white legs before entering the ring; or hurrying, like Corinne, from one end of the show ground to another.

On the way, she stopped at the show-jumping ring and quickly scanned the crowd of watchers, but there was no sign of her mother. Corinne's sigh was masked by the compère announcing the next competitor, a blonde girl on a roan pony.

Normally, Corinne would've walked the course on foot, but the primping and preening of Sonya and Mandy's horses had taken so long that by the time they'd arrived her class had already started. So her only option was to watch the roan negotiate the course, and try to memorise the route.

At the entrance to the ring was a blackboard with chalk numbers scrawled on it, most of which were already crossed out. "Am I too late to sign in?" she asked the steward, a bespectacled grey-haired lady in a Barbour jacket and paisley-patterned headscarf.

The steward consulted her clipboard and then the blackboard. "Two more to go after this one. So no." She raised her eyebrows at Corinne, who was still wearing her hoodie and tracksuit. "But you'll need to be quick."

"Thanks. Number sixty-eight. I'll be back in five minutes."

Corinne ripped off her hoodie as she ran back across the show ground, and as soon as she got back to the lorry wriggled out of her trousers, so she was just wearing cream jodhpurs and a white shirt and tie.
No time for a jacket.

Sonya's dad, who had driven them to the show, looked up from his newspaper and gave her a bemused smile as she grabbed her saddle and bridle from inside the silver-painted lorry. Quickly fastening them onto Ghost, who was tied up at the side and munching on a hay-net, she scrambled aboard. She was about to head back to the competition ring when Mandy appeared out of the living area at the front of the vehicle, waving Corinne's show hat.

"Don't forget your helmet!" she called.

"Thanks!" Flashing her a grateful smile, Corinne stuffed it onto her head and turned her horse towards the jumping ring, Mandy and Sonya following on foot at a more leisurely pace.

"This will have to do as your warm-up," she told Ghost as they trotted across the show ground. "Sorry."

There was only one number left un-crossed off on the blackboard. Hers. "That's me, number sixty-eight," she called to the steward, pointing at the board.

The steward jerked her chin at the jumps. "I was just about to give up on you. On you go. Quickly," she added as Corinne fumbled with the strap on her crash helmet.

Corinne nodded her thanks and trotted Ghost into the ring, trying to ignore the queasy feeling in her stomach.
It's just nerves.
She'd feel better once they got going.

There would be half a minute or so before the Steward would give the signal to start, so she took the opportunity to give Ghost a warm-up canter around the ring, letting him have a sideways look at the obstacles while reminding herself of the route they'd have to follow.

As she passed the entrance again, she noticed that Phemie had arrived and joined the crowd of spectators. Several yards away—no way they'd be so un-cool as to stand with the farmer—stood Sonya and Mandy, sharing a large packet of crisps.
I suppose everyone at the yard will hear how I got on, if Morticia is watching.
But Corinne couldn't do anything about that. All she could do was to jump as best she could.
And if I want to show-jump more seriously, I imagine I'll have to put up with worse.
With a shake of her head, she dismissed the thought and concentrated on the jumps.

Too quickly, the bell rang for them to start, and Corinne steadied Ghost back to a trot, craning her neck to work out the best route to the first obstacle. Moments later, they were cantering through the start flags and over the first; green and white crossed poles with a horizontal pole behind them.

Ghost sailed over as if it wasn't there and on to the next, a small spread with purple and white polkadot filler boards beneath it. Again, he jumped without hesitation, and Corinne began to relax. The practice she'd done at the farm yesterday—when nobody else was around to criticise—had obviously helped, and Ghost didn't seem bothered about the artificial-looking obstacles.

Weaving their way around the course, everything was going well until they approached the red and white wall. "Only two more to go," she told him as she lined him up for the jump.

Afterwards, she wondered if it was the lack of a warm-up that caused the problem, but as he landed after the wall, he stumbled, toppling her forwards so she crumpled onto his neck.

As she jerked herself back into the saddle and spun Ghost to face the final jump, her hat—which she'd obviously not fastened properly—flew off her head and landed behind them on the grass. But by then Ghost's eyes had locked onto the blue and white triple rail that would finish the course, and a moment later they were over it and cantering through the finish.
A clear round!

"Good boy!" Slowing him to a trot, she patted his shoulder and turned back to retrieve her helmet.

The steward met her by the wall, and handed up her navy hat. "Well done. You were the fifth clear, so you'll be in the jump-off. It's starting in a couple of minutes, once we put the jumps higher. Jumps one, two, four, seven, nine and ten."

"Okay, thanks." Four other riders in front of her. That would give her a few minutes to retrieve her jacket so she'd look less of a scruff and more like a proper show-jumper.

-::-

As Corinne trotted away towards the lorry park, a movement in the crowd caught Phemie's eye. Leaving Mandy alone at the ringside, Sonya marched determinedly towards the Secretary's tent, her coal-black hair swinging behind her shoulders as she walked.

Phemie frowned.
I wonder what she's up to?
But then she felt guilty for being so suspicious.
Maybe a late entry. That'll be it.

And now it was time for the jump-off. Phemie was glad Corinne and her white horse had made it. She was looking forward to seeing what the mysterious beast could do.

-::-

Corinne arrived back at the ring just in time to watch the second-to-last competitor's round and memorise the shortened jump-off course. This time, speed counted as well as accuracy, and the lanky teenager did a good job of saving time by galloping his horse part of the distance between jumps two and four. But had anyone else cut the corner between jump seven and the wall? That might shave off a few seconds.
I'll try that,
she thought, giving Ghost an encouraging pat on the neck and guiding him into the ring.

As well as being shorter, the jump-off course was also higher. As they sailed through the air over the upright jump seven, Corinne turned her shoulders to the right to indicate the tight turn she wanted Ghost to make on landing.

Ghost's feet hit the ground and he almost pirouetted on his hindquarters to cut inside jump eight and face the wall. But when Corinne spotted the obstacle, her confidence quailed.
That wall looks huge!
An intimidating mass of red and white, it looked higher than anything she'd ever jumped—including the stack of four straw bales in the stubble field the other day. But the tight turn they'd made only left her a stride or so to straighten Ghost in front of the wall—and only milliseconds to worry—before his muscular hindquarters bunched underneath him and he leapt like a stag over the massive obstacle.

Time seemed to slow as they arced through the air over the red and white blocks. In the crowd of spectators lining the ring, Corinne glimpsed Mandy's flame-red pigtail and Sonya's milk-white face. A few yards away stood Phemie, with her grey hair stuck out at untidy angles—and Corinne's mother standing quietly beside her.
She made it!

And then they had landed. Time returned to normal as Ghost streaked over the blue and white rails and then through the finish.

"Number sixty-eight finishes the jump-off in forty-two seconds," boomed a voice over the tannoy, "and it's a win in the Novice show-jumping for Corinne MacArthur and Ghost!"

We won?
Corinne looked across at the steward for confirmation and got a thumbs-up. "We won!" she told Ghost, and threw her arms around his neck. Even better that Mother had been there to see their success!

B
UT
C
ORINNE
'
S
JOY
was short-lived. Only moments after she came out of the ring with Ghost proudly sporting a red rosette clipped to his bridle, the Steward pulled her aside and asked her to speak to the Show Secretary, a jowly red-faced man in a tweed hat.

"Ahem," the man's ruddy cheeks wobbled as he cleared his throat. "Miss MacArthur, there's been a complaint that you jumped without a helmet on. Is this correct?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"So it's true." His eyes hardened. "I'm afraid we will have to disqualify you."

Corinne's face fell. "Just because of that one jump? In the first round?"

"Yes." His mouth in a line, he moved to Ghost's head. "I'll need to take the rosette to give to the boy who was second."

As the Secretary lumbered away with the precious rosette, the Steward stepped to Ghost's shoulder and glanced up at Corinne, a flash of something like sympathy in her eyes.

"Don't be too upset. You did well," she said.

"Thanks," Corinne chewed her lip, hoping she wouldn't embarrass herself by crying in front of the official. After all, it was only a red polyester ribbon stuck to a piece of card.

The Steward turned back towards the ring, then stopped. "We're still taking entries for the Chase-Me-Charlie, you know." She nodded her head at Ghost. "I think he'd do well at that."

-::-

It turned out that Mandy and Sonya were also entered into the Chase-Me-Charlie, and Mandy was effusive in encouraging Corinne to join them. "It's great fun," she said as she pulled on her brown show jacket. "And great if you're a bit nervous about jumping high—the adrenaline makes you brave."

I think I already used up my share of bravery in the Novice class this morning.
Corinne patted Ghost's shoulder, trying to think of a reason to back out that wouldn't get her subjected to ridicule by the other girls.

Mother had been standing quietly beside the lorry, but now she addressed Mandy. "What's involved in the Charlie class?"

Sonya sniggered in the background, but Mandy gave her a dirty look and explained patiently, "You all take turns at jumping a jump, and it goes higher until there's only one person left. It's a good laugh."

Corinne swallowed. "It—it sounds good, but I haven't got enough money with me for the entry fee."