‘Jules,’ she corrects.
‘Jules, sorry. I’m Ash. Lady Maycourt said she’d tell you to expect me.’
‘Oh right,’ she says slowly, her eyes roaming down me and back up again, deeply unimpressed. ‘The new groom who isn’t a groom.’
‘That’s me,’ I confirm, my heart sinking at the lack of a warm welcome.
‘I didn’t think you were coming,’ she says, turning to go put the rope away in a small room to the side.
I follow her, peering in at all the saddles, bridles and equipment hanging in there. This must be the tack room.
‘Well, I am here and ready to start,’ I say chirpily.
‘You should have been ready to start about four hours ago.’
‘Four…’ I trail off, pulling my phone out my pocket to check the time. ‘It’s nine o’clock.’
‘Exactly. You’re very late.’
‘You start work atfivein the morning?’ I say in disbelief.
‘You’ve missed most of the day,’ she claims, turning to face me. ‘Grooms start at five when we give the ponies their breakfast, clean out the stalls and exercise them. If youwant to help with working sets, you have to be here bright and early.’
‘Working what?’
‘Riding a set.’ She stares me down. ‘You do know what that is, don’t you?’
‘Afraid not,’ I say, trying hard to stay polite and cheerful in the face of weary hostility.
‘It’s when you ride one horse while you pony three others.’
I blink at her. ‘How do you pony… ponies?’
‘It means you lead the others off the side of the horse that you’re riding,’ she says impatiently, looking at me as though I’m an alien. ‘So you really know nothing about being a polo groom?’
‘I thought your mum would have told you that.’
‘She did, I just didn’t expect…’ She exhales. ‘I’m not sure this is going to work out.’
I frown at her quick dismissal. ‘We haven’t even started.’
‘Yeah, but we’re starting from scratch with you. I mean, you don’t even know the language and you’re dressed for aCountry Lifemagazine fashion shoot, not a day’s work in the stables,’ she points out, exasperated.
I glance down at my blazer, crisp white shirt, designer blue jeans and boots.
‘I doubt you can help with one pony, let alone seventy,’ she concludes.
My jaw drops. ‘You haveseventyponies here? Fucking hell. That’s… a lot.’
‘Uh, yeah?’ She wrinkles her nose at my alarmed reaction. ‘It’s a polo yard. See? This is what I mean. You don’t know anything about anything. I don’t think this is worth my time.’
She marches past me and I stand still for a moment, astounded, until a bubble of rage swells inside my chest and I spin round to go after her, refusing to scuttle away from this job with my tail between my legs before it’s even started.
‘You won’t give me a chance?’ I call out, my voice echoing through the stables.
She stops and sighs heavily, turning to face me. ‘It’s not personal, okay? But this is a busy place and I don’t have—’
‘So let me help you,’ I interrupt, taking a few more steps towards her and gesturing to her broken wrist. ‘You’re slowed down so take advantage of someone offering to do the jobs you can’t do right now. I know I’ve got a lot to learn, but I’m here, aren’t I? Surely havingsomeoneto help you is better than having no one.’
