I open my mouth to correct Sharon but the truth is, it kind of is romantic. I know that River and I are just having a fling before he goes, but somehow everything in my life has started to feel romantic. Eating my cereal – romantic. Taking a shower – romantic. Doing my hand exercises because the amount of writing I’m doing is making them cramp – romantic.
I sneak a glance at River, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. I wonder if Sharon’s comment has made him uncomfortable?
While Sharon heads off towards the stable, River gives me a serious look. ‘You ready to learn the ways of the saddle, Owl?’
‘I am, but fair warning, I’m hopeless at physical stuff. I once fell off a trampoline before I’d even done one bounce. I’m not built for riding.’
‘Believe me, you are perfectly built for riding,’ Riversays, straight face belying the intention of his words. ‘I’ve got a gut feeling you’ll be a natural.’
*
While I am definitely not a natural, Riverisan excellent teacher. Clear, direct and kind and forgiving when I do the wrong thing – which happens a lot. I have managed to stay astride the almost pony-sized Frosty Tops (the horse that Sharon decided would be perfect for me because ‘she is an almost worryingly docile beast’) for a whole twenty-five minutes, with River ambling at my side on his horse, Black Fire, a huge shiny stallion. We make our way down one of the pretty gravelled pathways of the park, huge fluffy sycamore trees causing the sun to scatter over us in dapples like a bucolic disco ball. I glance behind me to see Sharon on a pretty brown horse, about a hundred metres back, tapping out something on her phone while she rides.
‘How do you like it?’ River asks excitedly, eyes glittering and joyful. ‘Isn’t it the best feeling in the damn world?’
‘I mean … it’s all right?’ I laugh, with a shrug of my shoulder. ‘My bum hurts a bit. But yeah, it’s cool.’
River shakes his head. ‘Cool? Well, then we just need to go a little faster.’
I shake my head quickly. ‘No, thanks. This is fine by me. This is the exact right speed.’
River laughs. ‘Don’t you want to feel the wind in your hair?’
‘It’s August. There is no bloody wind.’
‘We create the wind!’ River cries dramatically, throwing a daring glance across at me. ‘C’mon. I reckon you’ll like it.’
As the pathway opens up, revealing a long empty stretch of trail, a sudden burst of abandon sparks through me – something that seems to be happening more and more when I’m in the company of River Oakley. The man’s confidence is infectious. ‘All right,’ I say. ‘Let’s do it.’
‘Now Gertie, I want you to squeeze your legs together, like squeezing water out of a sponge. This is how you ask her to trot.’
I follow River’s instructions and it works! Frosty Tops takes off and all at once I’m bouncing so high my whole body feels like it’s going to bruise.
‘Bring your hips forward and down. Go with her flow. Bend and then straighten your elbows. That’s it. Bend and straighten.’
‘Am I doing it right?’ I call out, starting to feel a little breeze in my hair.
‘You’re creating wind!’ River laughs triumphantly, keeping exact pace with me as we start to trot across the woodland. ‘Keep your calves together,’ River says. ‘Head up, chin parallel to the floor. That’s it! You’re doing it.’
Iamdoing it. Even though I’m a bit wobbly and my calves are already burning, I can see why he loves this so much. It feels amazing!
‘This is awesome!’
‘Ready to go even faster?’ River calls out.
‘Even faster than this?’ I gasp. ‘Can I?’
‘You can do it,’ River laughs. ‘Put your left leg back. Like that, yeah. And now your right leg at the girth – the strap that goes beneath the belly – yes, you got it. That’s great, Gertie.’
And then, as if I’ve been doing this my whole life, I am fuckingcantering through Hyde Park on a horse, like a character from a book. Like a scene from a movie. It feels like flying.
‘Woooo hoooo!’ I yell into the open air. ‘Look at me goooooooo!’
River tips his head back with laughter. ‘See? I told you! Look at you go!’
‘Oh my God, I see,’ I call back breathlessly. ‘I totally see. This is incredible.’
As we race forward, the trees thin out and the morning sun beams down on me. A self-created breeze lifts my hair from my neck. I glance over at the cowboy next to me. I can’t believe this is real. How can this moment be real?
