Page 13 of Polo Fever
When I was eight years old, our urban school ran a trial initiative for a year with a south London stables where students were offered group riding lessons. It was a brilliant idea, a programme that was designed to introduce city kids to horses and stable life, building confidence, improving interaction with animals – but I didn’t care about any of that. All I cared about was the fact that I was going to get the chance to be aroundhorses. At the time, we didn’t have much money and I remember going to the fancy stables and enviously watching the girls who rode there often, girls in expensive jodhpurs and tailored jackets with perfect hair and posture and the uncanny ability to let you know exactly what they think about you with a single look. Their superior sneers are burned into my memory.
I was determined to be good at horse riding and I got the hang of it pretty quickly, finding myself naturally confident with a good balance in the saddle. I was the best in the group and I remember the instructor saying that she thought I had real potential if I kept it up. But the programme was cut after two terms. By then, I had a good foundation in riding and was jumping, already envisioning myself as a showjumper for Great Britain. I was devastated. Mum promised me that she was going to get me horse-riding lessons as soon as we could afford them. By the time she could, my obsession with horses had been forgotten. By then, I’d grown up and accepted I was not an equestrian; I’d never be one of those posh pretty girls in the sculpted cream jodhpurs and leather riding boots. I haven’t been on a horse since.
Still, I love the sight of them.
‘It is beautiful here,’ I remark to Jasper.
‘I can’t believe you’ve never visited before. Any time I want to see you, I’ve had to trudge up to London.’
‘That’s because there’s things to actually do there,’ I tease.
‘Now you sound like Mum.’
‘She sends her love, by the way. She’s still annoyed about Christmas, though.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘She knows it’s a busy time at the pub. We’re always fully booked around the Christmas period. And as I said last year and the year before, you two could come to me. You’d love it around here during the winter. The pub is very cosy and the village lights are great. A real community atmosphere, you know?’
‘Mum couldn’t, not with her work. She barely got Christmas Day off. Basically, both of you work too hardand live too far apart.’ I rest my elbow on the door and lean my head against my hand. ‘Right now, I’m glad you live far away, though. Thanks for letting me stay.’
‘Hey, the room is always yours, whenever you want for whatever you need.’
‘Thanks. What I need is somewhere to hide.’
Jasper frowns. ‘He shouldn’t make you feel like you’re the one who needs to hide. And anyway, I don’t think shutting the world out is an answer.’
‘I thought that’s why I came to a place I can pretend the world doesn’t exist.’
He looks amused. ‘It’s notdeadaround here, Ash. There’s plenty of things going on and people to meet. Speaking of which, I thought you could help me out in the pub while you’re here.’
‘You’re offering me a job?’
‘Yeah. Put in a few shifts here and there. Might be better for you to keep busy and keep your mind off things. Work is a good distraction.’
‘I’m not sure how long I’m going to be here, though.’
‘We’ll see how we go.’
He slows and turns off the lane into the uneven, dusty car park of a gorgeous stone-walled pub, its name emblazoned above the symbol of a dog on a green sign hanging above the door: The Old Greyhound. Mum has shown me pictures of it before, emphasising their decision to keep as much of the original character features intact as possible so it retains that quaint country-local feel, like the wooden door with its cast-iron knocker and the wooden hitching posts lined on the grass outside the front that were installed in a time when people would tie up their horses there before nipping insidefor a pint. One glance at the pub and I can understand why Jasper fell in love with this place and put his all into saving it – I haven’t even gone inside and I already know it’s a place worth protecting.
He parks and I climb out the car as he retrieves my bag from the boot, heading up the stone path to the entrance of the building. Admiring the exposed beams and wonky flagstone floors, I follow Jasper through the empty pub to the door hidden behind the bar, up the stairs and into his living quarters. I don’t know what I expected but I’m surprised at how neat and clean it is up here.
‘It’s really nice,’ I declare, scanning the vintage patterned rug of the lounge, the prettily displayed cushions on the sofa, the healthy thriving array of plants and the cool arched floor lamp in the far corner. ‘Very… stylish.’
‘What were you expecting?’ Jasper challenges, arching his brow at me. ‘A dusty old room filled with cobwebs?’
‘No!’ I hesitate. ‘Maybe a bit of dust.’
He chuckles. ‘I’m not completely useless. Here’s your room.’ He carries my case into the spare room next to the lounge which is small but bright, the sun pouring in through the tall windows. ‘I hope it’s okay.’
‘It’s lovely. Thank you,’ I say, wandering over to the window to check out the view of the spacious beer garden that looks out over miles and miles of unspoilt countryside. ‘Wow.’
‘Not bad, eh? Bathroom is next door and my room is at the far end.’
I sigh, sitting down on the white and blue floral duvet. ‘I owe you big time.’
‘Don’t mention it. This is your home for as long asyou need. Right.’ He rubs his hands together. ‘I have a few things to do before opening. I’ll let you settle in. Shout if you need anything. I’ll be downstairs.’
‘Thanks.’
