Nightstorm and the Grand Slam (2 page)

With the dressage behind them, the Laurels team were now completely focused on the next phase. The cross-country tomorrow would be the biggest challenge that Issie had ever ridden. Not just because of the size of the fences – although at the maximum height of a metre-twenty they were massive. More than the sheer scale, it was the devilish complexity of the obstacles at Badminton that threatened to trip up even the most experienced equestrians. With demanding combinations of ditches, banks and angled corners, the course was treacherous. It was so tough that half the competitors would fail to finish – many would be eliminated for falls or refusals, while others would retire halfway around when their horses couldn't cope.

While the horses weren't allowed to see the course beforehand, the riders were encouraged to walk around it as many times as they liked.

So far, Issie had walked it three times – and considering the course was a little over six kilometres long, she figured that was a pretty good effort. When Avery suggested they walk it a fourth time after the dressage test, she thought he must be kidding.

“I think we need to take another look at the Vicarage Ditch,” Avery said. “I'm still not certain we've got the best path resolved into the spread. It's going to be very hard riding to get your angle right into the jump…”

“Tom,” Issie shook her head. “We could walk the course a hundred times but it's not going to make those jumps any smaller. We've figured out my line for that spread. It's going to be fine.”

“All the same,” Avery said. “I think we should walk the course one last time.”

Tom Avery had been Issie's instructor since she first started riding at the Chevalier Point Pony Club. She knew better than to argue with him. And so, she dragged herself up off the sofa in the horse truck and pulled on her boots.

“Let's go then.”

The cross-country course began in the main stadium with the flower bed. From there a broad blanket of grassy track led on to the brush, the quarry and then the Huntsman's Close complex which involved a tricky combination and a very acute angle on a corner fence. The lake complex and a broad wooden tabletop fence came after that, and then the trickier narrow obstacles that required precision riding – two round tops and the intricate farmyard fences. After that, the horse had room to gallop until they reached one of the biggest fences on the course. The Vicarage Ditch was a massive obstacle. The ditch itself was almost three metres wide, with a hedge and solid wood rail set into the middle of it, placed at an odd angle.

“So how are you going to face him up to this? Will you turn straight towards the rail?” Avery asked as they walked towards the jump.

Issie frowned. Avery knew exactly how she planned to attack this fence. They had talked it over three times already!

“I'm going to ignore the ditch and take a straight line at the rail,” she said tersely. “It's a big jump so I'll really put my legs on to get a strong canter into it, but Storm and Victory are both fit and they should have loads of energy…”

“…Maybe too much energy,” Avery cut her off. “The last thing you want to do is rush it at a gallop and risk mis-timing and crashing into the rail…”

“Well, obviously!” Issie said. “I…”

But Avery had turned his back on her and was now walking the perimeter of the ditch. “I've decided that the best thing to do is to avoid the Vicarage Ditch entirely. If you take the long route here you don't have to jump it, you can go around and take the two offset hedges instead…”

Issie couldn't believe what she was hearing!

“Tom, that's the alternative route! If I avoid the Ditch it will take me three times as long!”

“I know that,” Avery said, “but it's the safer option.”

“Not if I want to win!” Issie replied. “The long option will add at least ten seconds and that would kill my chances of coming in under the allowed time. I'll be penalised.”

“A few time penalties is better than twenty faults from a refusal,” Avery argued.

“A few time penalties is all it will take to lose me the competition!”

Issie was stunned that her trainer was suggesting this change at the eleventh hour.

“You've never suggested that I take the soft route before. It's always ‘go straight through!' So why the sudden change? Why are you acting so weird?”

“I told you.” Avery looked distressed. “It's better to risk the time faults.”

“No,” Issie shook her head. “It's not…”

“Yes, it jolly well is!” Avery snapped. “It's better to risk the time faults than your horse's life!”

The words hung there in the silence between them. Issie now understood why they were out here standing on the cross-country course, with her instructor in a complete meltdown. This wasn't about her. It wasn't even about Victory and Nightstorm. This was about Avery and something that had happened long ago. She'd been a fool to forget what this jump in particular meant to him. Back in the days when Avery was competing, the Vicarage Ditch was known as the Vicarage Vee. It
was this fence that had ended her trainer's professional eventing career. He had fallen here on his horse, The Soothsayer. Avery had come away with minor cuts and bruises, but The Soothsayer had not been so lucky. The horse's life had ended when he broke his leg attempting this fence.

Avery had never spoken to Issie about the accident – in fact he never spoke to anyone about what happened that day. It must have been so painful for Avery to be here now, reliving the agony of that moment all those years ago when he lost his beloved horse.

“I'm so sorry,” Issie stammered. “I wasn't thinking…”

Avery's voice was choked with emotion. “I just don't want you to make the same mistake I made,” he said.

“I get that, I really do,” Issie said gently. “But you're trying to change history. Even if I take the safe route on Victory and Storm, it isn't going to bring
him
back.”

She looked her trainer in the eyes. “The alternative route is too slow and I will lose if I take it. You have to let me take the risk and jump the Vicarage Ditch.”

Avery sighed, admitting defeat, “When exactly did you become the smart one in our relationship?”

Issie smiled. “Oh, please! If I'm the smart one then we really are in trouble!”

Avery put his arm around her shoulder. “Come on,” he said, “let's go back to the truck. I think you know exactly what you're doing. Straight through the big jumps all the way to home.”

They kept the conversation purely on practical matters as they walked back to the truck. This wasn't difficult since there was still so much to prepare for tomorrow. Francoise was running a last-minute check on their tack and equipment. And Stella was down at the stables with both the horses, bedding them in for the evening.

Victory and Storm had both been allocated stalls in the main Badminton House stable block, a stately stone building constructed around a quadrangle courtyard. The main stables took 45 horses, almost half the contingent who were competing over the period of the three-day event, and the loose boxes were beautiful with high ceilings and elegant flagstone floors. They were also high maintenance and Stella had spent most of the day down
there, mucking out and replacing Victory and Storm's bedding, organising their feeds and water troughs.

She arrived back at the horse truck at the same time as Issie and Tom, her curly red hair scraped back beneath a cheesecutter cap, which looked like it had been stolen out of Avery's closet. Her jodhpurs were covered in straw and muck, which she made a half-hearted attempt to brush off before she stepped inside the kitchen of the horse truck and collapsed on one of the bench seats.

“Ohmygod!” Stella groaned. “I am exhausted and starving. When is dinner?”

“Dinner,” Avery told her, “will be on the table shortly.” Stella looked pleased until he added, “…just as soon as you cook it.”

In the end, all four of them pitched in to make spaghetti with tomato and tuna sauce and a green salad on the side.

“Carbo loading for tomorrow,” Stella told Issie as she dished up a second helping of pasta onto her plate.

“I don't need to fuel up,” Issie insisted. “Victory and Storm are the ones who'll be doing the hard work!”

“They've already had their dinner,” Stella said. “I gave them their feeds before I left the stables. Victory
bolted his down as usual, but Storm wasn't really that hungry.”

There was something about this comment that rang alarm bells for Issie. Storm was a greedy sort, known for snuffling his feed down in five minutes flat and nickering for seconds.

“Was he OK?” Issie asked Stella.

“He was a bit tense,” Stella admitted. “You know, after the dressage test, and being somewhere new. He was walking around his stall when I left him, taking little bites of his feed and then wandering away again.”

Issie looked up from her plate. “Maybe I should go check on him?”

Avery shook his head. “Issie, you're worrying unnecessarily. Storm is fine, finish your dinner.”

It had been the strangest day. Never in her wildest dreams had Issie expected to be in such a strong position after the dressage phase. Her test on Victory had also put her right up there in contention, sitting in eighth place on a score of 39.5.

The real test of courage and ability would come tomorrow. She had put on a brave face in front of Tom and argued that she had to take the Vicarage Ditch head-on. But underneath her bravado, she was worried about her horses too.

She had never lost a horse on the cross-country course, but that didn't mean she didn't understand Avery's pain. She had suffered the same heartbreak – many years ago now – when she had the accident with Mystic.

It had been the day of the Chevalier Point Pony Club Gymkhana, Issie's first-ever competition. Mystic, her beloved pony, had been a total star all day long. The little swaybacked dapple-grey was getting on in years, but he was still a keen jumper and they had just taken out a ribbon in the showjumping class when it happened.

Chevalier Point's resident brat, Natasha Tucker, furious that she'd failed to take first place, had thrown a tantrum and used her whip to take a swipe at her poor pony, Goldrush.

Issie had looked on in horror as the terrified Goldrush backed away from Natasha to escape and barged into Stella's horse Coco and Kate's gelding Toby, who were
tied to a nearby horse truck. The next thing Issie knew, the ponies had pulled loose in fright and bolted, along with Goldrush, heading for the pony-club gates.

As people began to run after the horses, trying to divert them before they reached the main road, Issie realised they'd never catch them in time on foot. But maybe she could stop them on Mystic.

By the time she caught up the ponies were on the main road. Issie had taken one look at the cars whizzing past and then made the fateful decision to follow them. Every moment that the ponies were on that road their lives were in danger, but if she could ride around and herd them back, she might be able to drive them on to the gravel road back to the pony-club grounds.