Page 80 of Polo Fever
My confidence swells, my mind clears, and a wave of determination lifts me up off my saddle as I canter, my stick held high in the air in celebration.I will spend the rest of the match chasing this feeling.
The goal seems to have lit a fire of inspiration in the Maycourt team, as though my decision to believe in myself has rubbed off on the others, too. Within the next minute, Harry blocks a shot from DQ and Federico taps the ball on to Eduardo, who streaks up the side of the field with it,passing it to me as I charge up alongside him towards the centre. As the ball loses momentum, I hit it ahead, unfazed by the sound of galloping hooves approaching behind me, and with a quick glance to the goal, I swing back my stick and wallop it hard in the direction of the posts, cantering after it to make sure it stays on track, cheering as Gimli and I follow the ball straight through the posts.
‘Go Ash!’ Sam cries from the sidelines.
We enter the fourth and final chukka with a tied score at three-three, but I care more about the pride on my mum’s face as I trot past her into position and the way Mateo is looking at me as though I’ve surpassed even his expectations today. I want to win, but at least now I feel like I deserve to, whichever way this match goes. At least now I feel like I’ve earned a place on this team as much as anyone else has.
The DQ number three marking me is looking a lot more tense and alarmed than he did in the first half of this match. It’s hard not to feel a tad smug that I’ve baffled him. With the pressure mounting in the final chukka, the aggression rises and DQ start off with a devastatingly good goal as their number one weaves through our defence, but his cockiness gets the better of him and he crosses Federico moments later, awarding us a penalty.
We’re back to a tie at four-four when a mishit sends the ball dribbling in my direction to the surprise of the others, who are still looking for it as I scoop it up and take it upfield. My opponent charges behind me for a ride-off, but I won’t be intimidated, staying the course and managing to pass it across to Eduardo, who knocks it between our posts.
‘Fuck!’ bellows the DQ number three, shooting me glares as he mutters something else under his breath.
But I don’t care what he’s saying about me. My heart soars, adrenaline pumping hard through my body from the intensity of the ride-off, my hands trembling a little as I lift one of them to pat Gimli’s neck, checking in with him as he breathes heavily, excited to go again.
‘Oh my God,’ I say in amazement. ‘We can win this.’
Pumped with resentment, my DQ opponent is all over me for the last few minutes of the game and when I have the line, he comes thundering alongside me and crosses right in front, the whistle blowing for a foul as I have to pull up my pony before we collide.
‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ I yell furiously at him.
His jaw set, he ignores me, which angers me even more.
‘Ignore him, he’s a sore loser,’ Eduardo says, coming up next to me. ‘He’s cost his team the match. You’ve got a penalty now and we’re down to under a minute left. If you score this, they’ll be two goals behind.’
Oh shit.I gulp, anger giving way to fear.
‘Ash,’ Eduardo begins, studying my expression, ‘you know you can do this.’
I look at him as he holds my gaze and nods slowly, like someone trying to persuade you of something that’s so obvious.God, the pressure.I move Gimli into position while the field falls silent, the spectators watching on in tense anticipation. I inhale a deep breath and try to shut out the noise in my head, the panicked thoughts knocking around in there like an uncontrollable, deflating balloon. I exhale shakily. And without another moment’s hesitation, I swing my mallet and I strike the ball with a loudthwackthat vibrates through my bones.
Twenty-Six
A cheer erupts in The Old Greyhound as Mum announces a round for everyone on her in honour of her daughter scoring ‘England’s best ever penalty’. Jasper and I share a look, both of us shaking with laughter as she tells a flustered Lucas to ‘bloody well crack open that champagne’, before placing a hand on the shoulder of Malcolm, leaning on the bar next to her, and asking him how he came to play polo.
‘I think your mum has taken a shine to my teammate,’ Mateo remarks, raising an eyebrow at them.
Everyone has come back here to celebrate, even the DQ team who played today and their supporters. It was the Maycourt lot who persuaded them to join us. While Ambrose may have looked as though he was suppressing a ball of fury ready to explode in his chest at any moment as he marched away to his helicopter, everyone else appreciated that today was ultimately a bit of friendly rivalry between stables equally passionate about ponies and the sport. DQ has already requested a re-match and Lady M hasannounced that if Ambrose is game, she’d happily make it an annual event. Jules is working up ideas for a trophy.
One of the best things about today has been Mateo getting on with Sam and Mum so well. It made my heart swell when I watched them chatting away on the sidelines earlier and Mum has already taken me aside to tell me she heartily approves. She’s also hit it off with Lady M. When I think about it, they have a lot in common, even though they’ve had wildly different lives. Both underestimated in professions where they’ve been made to feel as if they have to earn their position there every day, while their male counterparts never question themselves and certainly never wonder if anyone else is. It makes sense that while my mum might be brash and Lady M is reserved, they’d be fans of one another.
What I wasn’t expecting is how manyotherfans Mum would acquire today. When I emerged from the stables earlier, I noticed she was surrounded by Malcolm, Fitz and a couple of the DQ lads, and they were howling with laughter at one of her anecdotes.
My mum’s funny. She’s notthatfunny.
‘If Molly lands a polo player tonight and I don’t, I’ll be fuming,’ Sam says in response to Mateo’s comment about Malcolm, surveying her options in the crowded bar.
I wrinkle my nose. ‘Please don’t talk about my mum “landing” anyone. If anything, it would be a… flirtation. Right?Right?’
‘Have you seen your mum? She’s brilliant, successful, authoritative andhot,’ Sam points out. ‘Malcolm would be punching big time. He knows that.’
‘Ugh! Can we please change the subject?’ I grumble. ‘This is weird.’
She brightens, throwing an arm around me and squeezing me tight. ‘Yes! How about we talk about how amazing you were out there today? Ash, you are a fucking pro!’
‘She is.’ Mateo grins, beaming at me, his eyes sparkling with pride.
I smile bashfully down at my shoes. ‘Hardly. But it was fun.’
