Stable Mates. Zara Stoneley

in the horsey smell. ‘Try and stay in the ring this time darling.’ Flash snorted in response, not a good sign, her nostrils flaring until she could see the pink lining.

      ‘What the fuck is he doing here in this backwater, anyway?’ Rory was still staring suspiciously over in Dom’s direction.

      Lottie shrugged. ‘Gran probably told him, so he could keep an eye on us.’

      ‘Oh great, so we trek all the way out here where nobody can witness my death and Elizabeth goes and spreads the word to the whole county. I wondered why it was so bloody busy.’

      ‘You’re exaggerating, about the whole county and about your death. Stop being such a prima donna.’

      ***

      Rory and Flash were early in the running, which was a bonus as the patch of grass set aside for warming up was quiet. If they were jumping, it didn’t matter how many other horses were around, Flash had the poles to concentrate on and everything else faded into insignificance. Given an obstacle-free area though and the horse seemed to think someone was waiting to plan a surprise, suspicion traced its way through every muscle in her body and anything from another horse to a spectator’s hat was guaranteed to wind her up.

      However much she teased him, Lottie knew Rory was a good rider, and so did he. He was strong from eventing, a sport not for the faint-hearted or weak-bodied, but his muscle tone was long and lean rather than the short, compact build that her show-jumping father sported. And he didn’t seek to dominate, which was a saving grace when it came to a horse like Flash. He sat quietly, confidently, long legs wrapped around her – holding her in a safe embrace. When Flash spooked, he didn’t react, his body going with her, his hands giving but firm.

      Lottie’s gaze was locked onto him. She couldn’t help but watch him. He might not portray quite the picture of elegance and control that Dom did, but it was almost like he was part of the horse. His body adapted, flowed in response, shifting like he had to do during the wild cross-country rollercoaster of twists and turns, ups and downs. She flicked her gaze from Rory to Dom and back again, so different and yet so the same. And yeah, Dom was so controlled, so distant almost, in contrast to the fiery ball of energy that was Rory, that she could see why each regarded the other with suspicion.

      To Dom, Rory was a wild child with no respect for his own safety, and no style. The latter probably being the most injurious to his fine sensibilities. He distrusted the man’s apparent casual attitude to women, was wary of his easy sense of humour and cavalier approach to life. And to Rory, Dom was too prim and proper, totally unbending and most likely gay. Which was quite an accomplishment given his parentage and upbringing.

      Lottie grinned as Flash fly-bucked and Rory did a good imitation of a rodeo rider, waving one arm in the air. She could almost feel the waves of disapproval emanating from Dom on the other side of the area. But whatever they said, she was pretty sure they admired each other in some weird, indefinable way.

      The judge’s car horn went and Lottie checked the running order. She signalled at Rory, next in, and saw Flash’s ears flicker in what could have been warning or anticipation.

      Enter at C, working trot was the official first line of the dressage test. The fact that Flash entered was in fact a bonus, but there was nothing that suggested ‘working’ and only a smattering of ‘trot’ in what followed. She danced in a zigzag combination that involved trot, canter and an amazingly good pirouette. Lottie could have sworn Rory closed his eyes briefly as he silently willed the horse down the centre line.

      The next few instructions on the test would have been a mystery to even an experienced onlooker. The ten metre circle resembled a broken egg and the extended trot, which should have been a thing of controlled beauty, would have been brilliant put to music – the type of music that is played as background to firework displays. Lottie realised she was humming the 1812 overture in time to the fly bucks and heel kicks, whilst Rory sat strangely calm on top of Flash, resigned to his fate, like he was hacking out the quiet nag she’d appeared in the stable. They really excelled when they came to the flying change, for a moment they seemed suspended in the air as Flash decided whether to paddle desperately in an attempt to fly into hyperspace, or give up and come back to terra firma.

      Lottie covered her eyes and peered through her fingers, half expecting them to come crashing down in a heap of tangled legs, and then, miraculously, as the mare’s hooves hit the ground she seemed to calm down. Maybe it was because she’d had that sensation of jumping, and it had switched her mad chestnut brain on to automatic, but something happened. She flew through the next few movements, finished the test with the kind of perfection that instilled silent awe, and then carried on flying – straight out of the ring, narrowly missing the judge’s car and scattering the onlookers who’d come for a quiet day out to watch the horse world’s answer to ballet.

      Rory grinned and dropped the reins as the steward jumped out of the way, clipboard flying straight at the judge’s secretary whose hat went one way and cup of coffee the other, splashing a passing Great Dane, who, with a yelp of surprise, headed off in the opposite direction, towing his surprised teenage owner, baseball cap askew, with him.

      Lottie started giggling, then glanced up to find Dom had ridden over and was in front of her, staring disapprovingly down his elegant long nose. Even his horse looked like it took a dim view of the situation. ‘That man really doesn’t do the dressage world any favours at all.’ He gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘Airs above the ground aren’t normally performed at this level, which even a numbskull eventer like Rory should know.’ He tutted, the horse gave a discreet snort. She tried to keep the laughter in, she really did, but it hurt. Her ribs hurt, her eyes started streaming and suddenly she couldn’t help herself anymore. She let it all out, howling with laughter until she was doubled up and could hardly breathe.

      She paused. Aware that Dom and his mount were still stood motionless in front of her. Tiny equine hooves oiled and polished so she could see a whisper of her reflection in them. Took a calming breath and wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. ‘He’s not that bad, and you know it.’

      Dom shook his head slowly. ‘I think you better go and catch them, don’t you?’

      ‘They’ll be at the horsebox; Flash always heads for home when she’s upset.’ She blew her nose, which helped a little at calming the hysterics that had been bubbling around in her chest. ‘Christ, I hope she hasn’t actually headed for the main gate, she might really want to get home this time.’

      Dom raised an eyebrow even further.

      ‘Kidding. Honest. They’ll be fine. Oh, good luck.’

      ‘Thank you, Charlotte.’ She half expected him to add, but there is no luck involved, but he didn’t. He just nodded, although she could have sworn there was a glimmer of a smile chasing across his perfect features as he nudged his horse into a walk. ‘Oh, Charlie,’ he turned in the saddle, almost as an afterthought. ‘Don’t let him break your heart, will you? Men like him are never worth it, believe me.’ Then he gathered his reins and trotted back across the arena.

      ‘No heart left to break, Uncle Dom.’

      ***

      Flash was, as Lottie had expected, by the horsebox when she got there. Tied to a piece of twine and tugging lazily at a hay net. Happy as an old-age pensioner on a day trip to Brighton.

      Rory was sat on the ramp, smoking a cigarette. His jacket had been discarded beside him, the cravat on top of it, his dark curls damp and flattened from the hat. He grinned. ‘What kept you?’

      ‘Couldn’t keep up.’ She sank down beside him, took a draw on his cigarette and handed it back. ‘I’m not one hundred per cent sure, but I’d say you were probably eliminated.’

      ‘I don’t believe in doing things by halves.’

      ‘Nope. Balls still intact then?’

      ‘I might have to check on that one, unless you want to do it for me?’

      ‘It’s a bit public here.’

      ‘True.’