the
Janet Rising
DJMur phy
For Mum and Dad – thank you for being the most immense supporters of me and all of the ponies over the years.
love Meg
Arriving at Badminton
The horsebox turned into the long driveway flanked by open fields, and Meg felt her heart skip a beat as she caught sight of the big, blue sign.
WELCOME TO BADMINTON HORSE TRIALS
We’ve made it, thought Meg, taking a deep breath. Me and Jam, we’re really here.
‘Look at the size of those fences!’ gasped her friend Hannah who, together with Meg’s mum – who was always known by her nickname Hobbit – made up the core of Meg’s support team and bounced about like a rubber ball in the cab of the horsebox. Meg wondered whether Hannah would be quite so bouncy if she were the one destined to tackle the jumps. And, she thought, biting her lip, if she didn’t have inner demons from her past to conquer.
‘They’re for the five-star event,’ explained Meg,
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Chapter one
Jam-Bam the Badminton pony
relieved that at least she wouldn’t be facing those enormous and very scary jumps. ‘We’re entered for the 90-centimetre course, thank goodness!’ She and Jam-Bam were here for the Badminton Grassroots competition, scheduled two days before the annual 5* horse trials held at the Duke of Beaufort’s vast estate surrounding the majestic Badminton House. The main event was, of course, famous all over the world, and it was every top rider’s dream to compete there. The Badminton Grassroots competition, over a smaller cross-country course, was designed to give up-andcoming riders and their horses a taste of top-class competition at a prestigious event, and riding there was the ambition of every amateur event rider – and that included Meg. It had been hard work getting there but here they were, having qualified fair and square. They had arrived early. Hobbit parked up Daphne, as their horsebox was affectionately known, and Meg and Hannah jumped out and let down the ramp. Jam greeted them with an excited whinny. The Connemara mare was fully aware they had come to an event – all the sounds and smells made it as obvious to her as the sight of the big, blue sign had to Meg. She had travelled well, and Meg led her towards the temporary stabling that was to be Jam’s home for the night.
‘You’re lucky, Jammy!’ Meg told her, looking at the
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documentation she’d been given and seeing that she had been allocated a stable right on the very end of the row. ‘Here you are – stable number 35, your homefrom-home!’
It was still quiet – only a handful of horses and riders had arrived – so there were not many other horses there yet to keep Jam company. Not that she seemed to mind. The grey mare was obviously thrilled to discover that the Duke’s estate comprised acres and acres of tasty grass! She was quite happy to just stand and graze to her heart’s content.
The girls opened two bales of shavings and laid a bed for Jam. Meg had a feeling the mare would waste no time digging up her bed to get to the grass beneath it. Sure enough, as soon as she was inside the stable with its canvas roof, Jam dropped her head and explored the ground.
‘Well,’ she seemed to say, ‘this is a good idea, a floor made of grass! Why don’t we have this at home?’
Before they had left the yard Meg had suffered her usual attack of paranoia as she checked and re-checked that she had packed everything she and Jam would need for the Grassroots competition. With three phases –dressage, show jumping and cross-country – held over two days there was a lot to remember to take. Not only did Jam have different saddles, bridles and other pieces
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Jam-Bam the Badminton pony
of tack for each phase, but Meg had three sets of riding clothes, and she needed to pack all the paraphernalia she would, or might possibly, need. There were buckets, hay nets, yard tools – including a wheelbarrow –haylage, feed and miscellaneous yet essential items such as cooling wraps to reduce any swelling in Jam’s legs after her cross-country round, rugs and spare allsorts-of-things such as breeches and raincoats, stirrup leathers and reins. Meg was used to going to events and making sure everything on the list was included, but somehow there seemed always to be some small but significant item left behind. It was most annoying; it would be doubly annoying if she left anything behind at this, the most important and prestigious event so far in her career. She didn’t need any more stress!
Meg also needed to make sure she had packed the essential video camera so Hannah and Hobbit could record their Badminton Grassroots adventure for her YouTube channel. Meg’s journey to this event had a loyal following, and her fans were keen to see how they would get on. Some, Meg knew, would actually be at Badminton to support her. It was a great feeling knowing she had such a lot of support, but it came with a feeling of responsibility, too. She didn’t want to let her fans down.
Jam, of course, had taken all the preparations in
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her stride, but Meg couldn’t help thinking that her mare had realised that this event – and by now they had been to quite a number of them – was special. There was something in the atmosphere here that was different. Meg knew it was radiating from herself, as well as Hobbit and Hannah. Everyone was hyped-up by the pure magic of being at such a legendary event as Badminton, and it didn’t matter how much they assured each other that this was just another event, everyone knew it wasn’t. This one was special; it had taken an awful lot of effort, from everyone, to qualify for the Badminton Grassroots. It hadn’t just happened; it hadn’t been easy and now they were actually here the enormity of what Meg and Jam had achieved – just to qualify – was beginning to sink in.
As she made her way past the iconic and stunning Badminton House and Lake to take her first look at the cross-country course, Meg’s mind wandered back to when she had first set eyes on Jam. Nobody who had seen the mare when she had first arrived from Ireland would ever have tipped her as a Badminton Grassroots contender.
How on earth did we get here? Meg wondered. How is it possible that Jam, who at just over 15.1hh is little more than a pony, really, and me, ME – just an ordinary rider – are here achieving an ambition of which most
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people can only dream?
‘Dreams do come true,’ Meg told herself in wonder, pushing to the back of her mind unwelcome but persistent memories of how, in the blink of an eye, a dream could turn to dust.
‘This is different,’ Meg told herself sternly. ‘This whole event will be different. I have to stay positive. If I don’t, it would be totally unfair to Jam. She deserves better than that. She deserves to be ridden with the utmost confidence, with no thoughts about how things can go horribly wrong!’
Meg shook herself and got a grip. ‘This is a new dream,’ she muttered to herself, taking a deep breath and looking ahead at the jumps she and Jam would soon be tackling together.
Like all dreams that had taken work to achieve, this one had been a long time coming…
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Badminton
the
pony
