Short Story
AIMING HIGH
Mark Milbank, Sherborne Scribblers The crowd in the White City stadium was so quiet it was eerie; no one dared move as their favourite combination of the great Harry Llewellyn entered the arena riding the ageing showjumper ‘Foxhunter’. They were last to go in the jump-off for the King George V Gold cup – Britain’s premier and most coveted jumping prize. The only other competitor left in the competition was the Italian combination of Piero D’Inzeo on ‘The Rock’ and they had just had one jump down costing them 4 faults, so Harry and Foxhunter had to go clear to win. The announcer, when introducing them to the silent crowd, ended the introduction by whispering, ‘So let’s hear a pin drop but not a pole!’ In breathless silence the ageing pair scraped over the twisting, difficult, high course of painted show jumps until finally clearing the last triple bar and registering a clear round! The vast crowd erupted as one, in thunderous applause as Harry bent down in his saddle and patted his old friend by way of thanks for this great victory. Sitting in a ring-side seat with her parents, six-year-old Sarah burst into tears and leapt up and down on her seat screaming with joy at the triumph of her heroes, while her parents made no effort to restrain her. What excitement for a ‘pony mad’ little girl! Sarah could not stop talking all the way back to their flat in Knightsbridge – ‘I want to be like Harry Llewelyn when I grow up – will you please buy me a horse like Foxhunter if I am always very, very good?’ Laughing, her father, Patrick, said, ‘I would if I could darling, but horses like old Foxhunter don’t grow on trees!’ So it was nearly 18 months before Patrick beckoned his daughter to the closed front door of their cottage in Buckland Newton. Silently he opened it and there, standing in their small garden and held by Sarah’s mother, Sue, was a beautiful little cross-bred pony with an immaculately plaited mane. ‘Happy 8th birthday, darling,’ they both said. Sarah just stood there for a few moments with her mouth open and tears flowing down her cheek. Then slowly she tip-toed towards this vision. Cautiously she extended her arm to stroke its velvety nose. The pony emitted a little wicker and nuzzled her hand. Patrick quickly put a carrot into his daughter’s hand which was immediately transferred into the pony’s mouth. ‘What’s her name?’ whispered Sarah when at last she could speak. ‘You have got to give her one,’ said Sue.
140 | Sherborne Times | June 2022
