CHAPTER TEN
Sam slowly raised her eyebrows in disbelief as she looked at Emma incredulously. She wouldn't have been more surprised if Emma had said she wanted to take Malaika to the moon.
"You want to go to Huntingdon?" she managed finally.
"Yes," Emma said with more conviction. "I want to win and I want to bring a cup home to put beside all your others."
"You'd do that for me?"
Emma nodded silently, now slightly embarrassed.
"You've taught me how to ride really."
"But you don't need to do that for me," Sam exclaimed. "Hell, you don't have to do anything for me. You do enough as it is."
"But I want to. Not only for you but for Malaika as well. She should be given the chance to have a crack at Huntingdon."
Sam nodded grimly, understanding what Emma might unknowingly be saying. There was no guarantee that she would ever walk again, never mind ride and given the opportunity, Malaika should go to Huntingdon, even if she, Sam, wasn't the one up on her back.
"Yes, I s'pose she should be given the chance. But Huntingdon? Huntingdon is very big and very daunting. And you have to be good enough to qualify. It's not just a matter of rocking up on the big day and entering," Sam cautioned.
"I guess we'll just have to see how tough we really are then," she shrugged.
Emma wasn't feeling quite so confident as she sat on Malaika's back at Lymington, the first of the qualifying shows she and Sam had selected for their debut.
"Are you all set?" Sam asked.
"I - I think so," Emma replied hesitantly.
"You know the course?"
"Yes - yes, I think so."
Sam smiled up at the girl on her horse. Her face was full of apprehension and so unsure.
"You'll be fine, Emma," Sam said soothingly.
"I hope so. But what if I have three refusals at the first fence?"
"You won't. Malaika wouldn't do that to you."
"That combination looks awfully big."
"It isn't as big as you think it is," Sam reassured her. "Just ride like you've been doing at the paddock at home and help Malaika as much as you can. She loves the limelight so she'll take you round fine."
"Well, here goes," Emma said taking a deep breath as the collecting steward beckoned her forward.
"Good luck," Sam called after her.
Emma rode into the ring feeling vulnerable with everybody's eyes on her. The bell rang and she hurriedly pushed Malaika into canter. The mare was being so calm, as if she could feel the girl's insecurity and was doing her best to reassure her. Going through the Start they approached the first jump, which loomed forbiddingly. Malaika, left to her own devices as Emma froze in fear, gathered herself and flew over without touching. Emma was thrown onto her neck and clutched desperately at the chestnut mane. Scrambling back into the saddle, she just managed to turn to face the second jump. This was smaller than the first and she felt a trickle of confidence seep back into her body. Feeling for more contact on the reins, she pressed firmly with her legs and barely moved in the saddle as Malaika soared over. Her fears were rapidly disappearing and she was no longer aware of the crowds surrounding the arena watching her. All she focussed on was the next ten jumps to be tackled and the horse beneath her. Bravely, the pair challenged each obstacle surely and with seemingly apparent ease.
Sam, sitting at the ringside, knew the feelings which Emma was experiencing. All the energy of nerves, fear, excitement and daring all channelled into one to exude almost military precision in every move. She watched breathlessly, urging horse and rider on. Involuntarily, she leaned forward in her chair as they cleared each fence. At last Emma and Malaika turned to face the last three jumps - the treble combination. Emma's face clouded with uncertainty and she hesitated in her urgings, causing Malaika to pause as well. They tapped the first element but it didn't fall. Courageously Malaika dug in and soared over the second but Emma seemed paralysed in the saddle and was more hindrance than help. She caught Malaika in the mouth as they landed and the mare checked herself before attempting the last jump. It was a fatal move and the top pole toppled onto the springy turf below.
Disappointed, Sam sighed, but only for a moment. What a round! Although absolutely terrified, Emma had ridden a huge course and so competently for her first time out.
"Emma, that was so good!" she exclaimed when she met her and Malaika coming through the gate. Emma's face-splitting grin was enough to see how pleased she was.
"Wasn't Malaika a sweetheart?" she crowed, patting the mare. "She didn't put a foot wrong. She would've cleared the last if I hadn't jabbed her in the mouth."
"You both did brilliantly."
"I suppose we're out of the placings though, aren't we? There's bound to be loads of clear rounds."
To both Sam and Emma's delight, there were only two clear rounds and another person with four faults who had a faster time than them. Emma very proudly rode Malaika back into the ring to accept her green rosette for fourth place.
Sam found the next month was full of activity. Since they only had six months before Huntingdon, they would need to accumulate as many points as possible, so they had arranged to go to two other shows within the next month. The work they gave Malaika was gruelling as a late summer heatwave enveloped the county and the ground became hard and difficult to jump on. Jem spent a lot of time hosing down Malaika's legs after each exercise. But it looked like the weather was going to break on the afternoon scheduled for their next show. Menacing black clouds hung low over the horizon and the air was heavy with humidity. Malaika was sweating up more than usual as Emma stretched her legs so she trotted over to Sam.
"What say we watch a few rounds before I give Mally a final warm up?" she suggested, drawing to a halt beside Sam. But Sam wasn't listening. She was glaring over at the far side of the paddock.
"That sort of riding makes me sick," she growled.
"Sam?" Emma said doubtfully. Sam's attention wavered for a second and she glanced up at her friend.
"Look at that over there," she said throwing her hand towards the other end of the field. "They've been jumping that horse and knocking it about for the past twenty minutes."
Emma turned to look into the distance where she could see a horse being jumped over a high upright while standing nearby was a short overweight man in a tweed suit shouting out orders. His voice, raised in anger, drifted over to them when the horse knocked off the top pole. The next time the horse tried to jump he slashed a dressage whip hard across the its shins. Emma looked revolted while Sam bristled with rage.
"Who is he?" Emma asked in disgusted tones.
"Leon Brooke. He's owned loads of show jumpers and point-to-pointers. Don't know who the rider is though. Whoever it is must have a sick mind to work for that rat."
"But he shouldn't be allowed to have horses if that's how he treats them. It's illegal to do that to horses, surely," Emma protested.
"There's no proof that he mistreats horses. He keeps them in good condition. They're always healthy. But when they come out of his yard they're nervous wrecks. Some of them are useless afterwards."
"Why doesn't anyone report him?"
"There's nothing to report. There's no law against using the whip. There is against rapping a horse's legs and I'm sure he does that too."
"Rapping?"
"Lifting a pole while a horse is jumping so that he hits it with his legs and jumps higher the next time," Sam explained.
"That is sick," Emma agreed.
At that moment it appeared Leon Brooke and his jockey decided to end their jumping session and, while Leon Brooke waddled over to one of the hospitality tents, the horse and rider jogged over in the direction of the girls and the main collecting ring. Emma sat on Malaika watching them in stunned silence. It didn't make sense that anybody would want to be that cruel to a horse on purpose. The approaching rider took off his riding helmet as he got closer and ran a hand through a thick blond fringe. For a moment Sam was jolted out of her indignation. She judged him to be maybe nineteen or twenty and she had never seen such perfect bone structure. His jaw line was strong and between high cheekbones a straight narrow nose ran down to a teasing, laughing mouth. For the first time Sam sat in awe of such good looks.
"Err, Sam…" Emma prompted, now slightly amused by her friend's surprise. Sam came back down to earth with a bump and setting her mouth in a grim line, she wheeled herself into the path of the young man and his horse. He quickly pulled his horse to one side, just avoiding a collision.
"Watch it there!" he exclaimed in a concise and cultured accent. "What are you doing?"
"Funny, that was the same question I was about to ask you," Sam snarled.
"Excuse me? Do I know you?"
"I see Leon Brooke's up to his dirty tricks again," she said ignoring his question. To give him his due she saw a flicker of guilt sweep across his face, but this was quickly replaced by anger.
"I'm sorry but I don't know what you're talking about," he said with feigned politeness.
"You know exactly what I'm -"
"Perhaps you need some assistance," he interrupted, smiling patronisingly. "I see by your obvious disability that you must have someone here looking after you. I don't think I can help you, I'm afraid. Now, if you'll excuse me?"
Sam was too shocked to say anything. She sat with her mouth agape as he tilted his helmet towards her before settling it back on his head and with one hand, expertly guided his horse plunging around the wheelchair.
That show brought them a first and second place much to the girls' delight. And at the following show, held a fortnight later, Emma and Malaika notched up three more achievements: two wins and a third. Emma still couldn't quite believe what was happening to her and proceeded to walk around in a daze. It just seemed so easy on Malaika. Well, not easy, she reasoned with herself. None of the classes she had won were easy but having a horse as keen as Malaika made things a lot more attainable. The fantasy of winning at Huntingdon was becoming an ambition being realised.
The second triumph came one morning whilst Sam was alone in the lounge enjoying the view which the glass doors to the patio afforded.
"Keith! Alison! Keith, come quick!" Sam screamed in excitement. "Come look!" Thundering footsteps down the hall heralded their approach.
"What?" Keith cried. "Are you all right?"
"I can move it! Look! Look! I can move my foot!" Sam shouted hysterically, pointing frantically at her bare feet.
Keith and Alison watched in anticipation as Sam took on a concentrated attitude. Suddenly the toes on her right foot lifted a few millimetres then dropped.
"I can do it again, look! It's not just a nerve spasm," Sam said cheerily. Again her toes rose and fell.
"Oh, Sam." Alison swept down to hug Sam in her chair. "I'm so happy for you." Keith did the same before muttering
"They said it might come back. This is only the beginning, Sam. Before you know it you'll be doing the eighty metre dash."
"I'll be able to ride again," Sam enthused. Like Emma's, her fantasy now also seemed within her grasp.