‘What?’ Fitz balks. ‘And my aunt still hired you?’
‘That seems odd,’ Clara says, tilting her head at me. ‘Do you have any expertise whatsoever to offer Lady Maycourt’s stables? Or are you just another stray she’s picked up, like one of her little dogs?’
Her friends laugh. Jules looks down at the floor uncomfortably.
‘Personally, I find it bizarre the way people who have no idea about polo suddenly try to get involved with it,’ Clara continues, bemused. ‘Every year, it’s the same at the start of the season. All these,’ her eyes land on me pointedly as she relishes the attention of the room, ‘wannabeescome along and get excited by the prestige and then think that after watching one polo match, they’re suddenly an expert. I mean, it’s laughable. Quite entertaining, really.’
I watch her with interest as she takes a glug of her drink.
‘How lucky we are to have a polo expert such as yourself then,’ I remark coolly.
My comment takes her by surprise. She lowers her glass slowly.
‘I wouldn’t be so crass as to refer to myself as an expert,’ Clara replies, ‘but I do tend to know a lot about the game, having been brought up in the polo world.’
‘Ah, so that’s your accepted criteria? That you have to be born into the polo world to come to understand it,’ I surmise.
She lifts her chin, her eyes not budging from mine. ‘I think you need to at least have a basic grasp of such a world and respect every aspect of it to deserve to be a part of it. And some people,’ her eyes drift down my outfit to my bootsand back up again, her lips curling into a sickly sweet smile, ‘clearly don’t fit the bill, despite how hard they try. That’s what I find particularly pathetic.’
‘You don’t think it’s more pathetic to close ranks on those who want to learn about it and contribute to it, just because they’re, what, not like you?’ I point out, unimpressed.
A pink tinge appears on her cheeks.
‘I merely mean that the polo world needs to be protected, in the same way that any tradition with foundations rich in heritage, skill and knowledge must be,’ she claims, momentarily flustered before relaxing, a triumphant smile returning to her lips. ‘My point is thatclassisn’t something that can be acquired. It’s something one is born with.’
‘I see, we’re talking aboutclassnow, rather than the sport of polo,’ I say, watching her with interest as she takes a sip of her drink. ‘Oh, well, that’s funny, because I was thinking that those with titles might have a bit of that, but you’ve proven me wrong.’
She splutters on her drink. Paige pats her on the back as Clara hastily wipes her chin with her hand. Jules disguises a snort of laughter with a cough.
‘I think it’s great to have new blood,’ Malcolm interjects, raising his glass.
‘Me too, me too,’ Fitz slurs, leaning in towards me. ‘And what an honour to have taken your polo virginity today, Ash. I hope you were impressed with mystick.’
He guffaws at his lewd joke, prompting several eye-rolls from our audience and a weary sigh from his teammates.
‘Not really,’ I say, bored. ‘I’ve seen much bigger ones.’
There’s a ripple of laughs through the room and I hear Malcolm turn to Eric and go, ‘Oh, I like her.’ Fitz looks putout, and Clara mutters something to her friends, who nod in agreement, shooting disapproving looks my way.
Knocking back the rest of my drink, I place the empty glass down on the table and excuse myself, the crowd parting as I head to the door. I might have been making it up but I could have sworn I heard Mateo chuckling quietly at the bar as I left.
Nine
As my confidence in the stables grows, so does my determination to ride. I’m getting into my new routine now and Jules has to monitor my tasks less and less, which is useful for both of us, although since the party, she’s definitely warmed to me more. But despite my improved abilities for tacking up a pony and caring for them, not to mention how at ease I am around them, Jules still hasn’t set time aside to give me my first lesson. Every morning, I give the ponies their breakfast and prepare them for their sets and then have to stand aside and enviously watch on as one of the other grooms pulls themselves up onto one and leads a group of them out to exercise. Meanwhile, I’m stuck stuffing washing machines with saddle mats.
Clara didn’t get under my skin – I’ve faced a hundred Claras in the fashion world and, frankly, her jabs were mild in comparison – but she had a point that a groom who can’t ride is strange. It was embarrassing that my lack of skillset was highlighted in front of everyone that night. I came home after the party with a fire in my belly, determinedto ride better than someone as pompously entitled as The Hon. Clara Fennel by the end of the summer. As the week has gone on, I’ve been getting more and more impatient to start. When it becomes clear that no one’s going to help me, I realise there’s only one thing for it.
‘I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands,’ I say to myself out loud one morning as I park up the old Volkswagen Polo I’m renting from a friend of Jasper’s.
That evening, I wait until Jules and most of the other grooms have gone home, finding things to busy myself with, and then I go to Serafina’s stables and start tacking her up. I’ve chosen her because she’s the horse I’ve forged the best connection with. I’ve purposefully put aside time to spend with her each day and Eduardo has let me take over most of her care now. Mateo took her out this week and she was still stubborn as hell, but even he made a comment at how much calmer she was when I was around her in the stable. I felt so elated and proud when he said that, my affection for Serafina swelling in my chest. There wasn’t anything else around here I could claim to be the best at, but at least I had my bond with her. It was like the two of us understood each other, accepting that neither of us quite fit in. I think that’s why she’s taken to me – I’m learning how horses tune in with our energy.
‘Okay, my girl,’ I say to her, tightening my helmet and then reaching up to grip the saddle, one foot up in the stirrup. ‘Don’t let me down, yeah? Let’s do this together.’
Hoisting myself up onto her, I hold onto her reins and focus on nice steady breaths as she shifts beneath my weight, getting used to me. Muscle memory kicks in as I get comfortable in the saddle and I sit up tall and straight, urging her to walkon to the indoor arena by applying pressure to her sides with my legs. When we get into the arena, I start slow and easy, just walking around in a loop until I’m confident enough to shorten my reins and encourage her into a trot. I break into a wide grin as my body seems to remember what to do, my core muscles engaged as I lift myself up from the saddle and back down again in a controlled and rhythmic manner.
‘We’ve got this,’ I say to her, tingling with excitement.
My courage is growing and I want to go faster. I can’t wait for that feeling of cantering again. I didn’t realise how much I’ve missed it. Serafina is working well with me and when she pulls her head down sharply, likely bored with trotting round and round in circles and as eager as I am to make things a bit more exciting, I regain my balance in the saddle and say, ‘No, you don’t. I’m the one in control here.’
