What if all you trusted was to crumble about you?
When a new pony arrives at Valley Riding School, volunteer Abby has no idea of the integral role that he has to play in the unfolding of her life. She goes from riding once per week to preparing for...
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"My first day at Gwyneth's yard in Wales was a blur. I remember missing our own horses with a nauseous intensity, but I also remember how beautiful it was. The drive swept through green hills and downs, and under weeping willow trees whose branches trailed on either side of you. It opened onto white brick stables arranged facing an arena the size of that at Olympia- all was overwhelming compared to the scattered and old farm that I had left.
"Horses dipped their heads in the acres of grass that surrounded the property, strong limbs contrasting strangely with the lanky thoroughbreds I was used to. They grazed in pairs, all bays and greys, solid and dependable warmbloods. Gwyn was nowhere to be seen when I first arrived, all wide-eyed and bewildered, but eventually met me on the yard, flustered and with hair flying every which way.
"'I'm so sorry,' she said, before taking my bags and showing me to the apartment where I would be staying above the haybarn, 'I've been busy with one of the new horses.' Unlike the yard, the accommodation was simple and squalid, but I didn't mind and settled comfortably upon the little sofa bed. We spent an hour catching up and then discussing my future duties on the yard, accompanied by the sound of a whistling kettle and the smell of fresh tea.
"We met the horses and I helped bring them in from their fields, and I admired the way they moved with smooth, oozing athleticism. They were all similar though, and it wasn't until Gwyn took me around to the back of the barn that I met the horse that would steal my future.
"I heard him before I saw him, snorts of exertion carrying through the air as hoofbeats pounded in a rhythm of three. They drummed against sand, and as we rounded the corner I saw a horse of never equaled beauty. His coat shone like moonlight against the black night sky, deep and inky in its vastness. Long and slender legs carried him like a boat upon smooth waters, the sequence of his pounding hoofbeats lilting and ethereal. The moment I saw him I was in love.
"Gwyn called him Seven, and explained that he had come off the track as a steeplechaser, galloping over hedges twice my meagre height without a second thought. She had bought him as a project, but he had fallen on the wayside whilst Gwyn worked on the warmbloods- the ones ready for Grand Prix. My heart ached for the stallion- he reminded me of the farm, how showjumping had become my dream and aspiration.
"I agreed to work on him, after my daily duties, in exchange for a weekly lesson with Gwyn, and as soon as work ended the each day, I was out in the round pen with all the enthusiasm I could muster. Tired and achy, I often couldn't spare him the energy, and worked on gaining his trust over the fence but I pushed through, and after many falls I was on his back with the confidence of a lion.
"We were a pair, he and I, flying like a raven over the huge fences Gwyn would set out for us. It became easy to ride him, and two became one. Gwyn was generous and let me have the ride, she preferred the warmbloods, she said, sturdier and full of substance- I suspect she could have done better with him than I did, but as I began to accompany my idol to shows, prize money began to pile in. The electric buzz of the enormous showgrounds and excited crowds filled my veins with some kind of competitive ecstasy, and I soon found that I loved it like a drug- perhaps too much.
"I still think about it now, going professional, regret is a fine companion to lost dreams. At the time I put it down to myself, the way things panned out. I had bought my partner, signed my name on the paper below his- Seasons Seven, when disaster finally struck. A torn suspensory at Hickstead, a newly wrought career in tatters. The vet said he would never show jump professionally again.
"I was heartbroken. Gwyn, of course, offered me other rides, but I didn't want to continue when Seven was stuck on box rest, and didn't want to stay in Wales and watch Gwyn compete, while I could not. So I waited until my beloved stallion was able, before driving home to the farm in Yorkshire.
"What I found was a yard in tatters, worn out by the footsteps of many and the dwindling of money. It saddened me, but I knew that it had never really changed in itself, just in my estimation of it. I invested thousands of my hard earned prize money into the place, installing state of the art facilities, a brand new barn for the horses and an indoor school. Seven had a field to himself, where he pranced as though nothing had changed, and I took a course on horse breeding.
"Dad helped me a lot, at first, in selecting suitable showjumping mares to balance Seven's fiery temper with his powerful jump, and when the first set of foals were born I almost forgot my woes. They were beautiful, athletic, and when I trained them up they became showjumpers with high calibre, and equally high prices. The mares I kept, while the stallions I gelded and sold, none quite having reached the charismatic entity that was Seasons Seven. Dad officially retired, and I renamed the farm Seasons Stud, after the horse that weaved my life."
Sara takes another sip of her tea, and I notice that the mug is emblazoned with the image of a black horse. I wonder where he is now, what happened to him. And the farm- both Sara and Mr. Smith describe it with so much love that I find it hard to think of it in somebody else's hands. My heart beats ever faster as Sara continues:
"That next year," she says, "Was one of my best since Seven's injury. I met Raj, and he moved onto the farm just as a new filly was born. She was out of a mare called Ode to Heaven, and she was beautiful and fresh as spring grass. Her caramel and cream patches diffused together even at that age, her eye, just as it is now, a pool of molten bronze. I freeze marked her with the circular symbol of Seasons Stud, just as I had the others, and named her Ode to Spring, after her dam and sire. She became my personal horse, the mare I hoped would lead me back to competition, back to my old love.
"As Spring grew, so did the farm, and training, selling, and beginning to compete once more began to take their toll on me. I had less and less time for my family, and both Spring and Seven were neglected in their training. It was Raj who suggested that I employ a trainer, so after much deliberation I did, asking Gwyneth and other contacts for recommendations. Eventually, after several interviews, it was a woman recommended by Gwyn that got the job. She was a family friend of the showjumper, with a background in training and breeding welsh ponies for showing. The woman had even made it to HOYS with her own mare, Sonnet Coch, and so I was confident in her talent.
"Kerys arrived on the farm with a battered trailer, immaculate mare, and a little boy with eyes that perfectly matched her own. He was enraptured by the horses, especially Spring, and gazed at them from afar, never quite daring to leave his mother's side. It didn't occur to me then, but there was something odd about how he looked at Kerys- with an awful kind of reverence and even fear. Matt was only two at the time, and Kerys often left him with me or Raj whilst she worked with the horses, preferring that he was stowed safely away from harm.
"At first Kerys was the perfect employee- friendly, genuine, and she obviously knew her way around a horse. It was after a year when things started to spiral downhill like a whirlpool in rough seas, although I didn't realise that Kerys was at the centre until she was gone.
"It was a cool night- spring time- and I was asleep in the house. The windows were open, permitting a fresh breeze to circulate the room, and giving the stars a keyhole through which to peer inside. They were beautiful that night, unhindered by grey clouds hanging from the inky climes of the heavens.
"It wasn't the breeze that woke me, however, but a shrill whinny. High pitched and louder than a thunderclap- I was immediately on edge. Raj and I both sat up straight in bed, and, worried that there might be thieves, we rushed out to the yard together.
"We were met only with the sound of screeching tyres."
***
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