the course. The Vicarage Ditch was a massive obstacle. The ditch itself was almost three metres wide, with a hedge and solid wood rail set into the middle of it, placed at an odd angle.
“So how are you going to face him up to this? Will you turn straight towards the rail?” Avery asked as they walked towards the jump.
Issie frowned. Avery knew exactly how she planned to attack this fence. They had talked it over three times already!
“I’m going to ignore the ditch and take a straight line at the rail,” she said tersely. “It’s a big jump so I’ll really put my legs on to get a strong canter into it, but Storm and Victory are both fit and they should have loads of energy…”
“…Maybe too much energy,” Avery cut her off. “The last thing you want to do is rush it at a gallop and risk mis-timing and crashing into the rail…”
“Well, obviously!” Issie said. “I…”
But Avery had turned his back on her and was now walking the perimeter of the ditch. “I’ve decided that the best thing to do is to avoid the Vicarage Ditch entirely. If you take the long route here you don’t have to jump it, you can go around and take the two offset hedges instead…”
Issie couldn’t believe what she was hearing!
“Tom, that’s the alternative route! If I avoid the Ditch it will take me three times as long!”
“I know that,” Avery said, “but it’s the safer option.”
“Not if I want to win!” Issie replied. “The long option will add at least ten seconds and that would kill my chances of coming in under the allowed time. I’ll be penalised.”
“A few time penalties is better than twenty faults from a refusal,” Avery argued.
“A few time penalties is all it will take to lose me the competition!”
Issie was stunned that her trainer was suggesting this change at the eleventh hour.
“You’ve never suggested that I take the soft route before. It’s always ‘go straight through!’ So why the sudden change? Why are you acting so weird?”
“I told you.” Avery looked distressed. “It’s better to risk the time faults.”
“No,” Issie shook her head. “It’s not…”
“Yes, it jolly well is!” Avery snapped. “It’s better to risk the time faults than your horse’s life!”
The words hung there in the silence between them. Issie now understood why they were out here standing on the cross-country course, with her instructor in a complete meltdown. This wasn’t about her. It wasn’t even about Victory and Nightstorm. This was about Avery and something that had happened long ago. She’d been a fool to forget what this jump in particular meant to him. Back in the days when Avery was competing, the Vicarage Ditch was known as the Vicarage Vee. It was this fence that had ended her trainer’s professional eventing career. He had fallen here on his horse, The Soothsayer. Avery had come away with minor cuts and bruises, but The Soothsayer had not been so lucky. The horse’s life had ended when he broke his leg attempting this fence.
Avery had never spoken to Issie about the accident – in fact he never spoke to anyone about what happened that day. It must have been so painful for Avery to be here now, reliving the agony of that moment all those years ago when he lost his beloved horse.
“I’m so sorry,” Issie stammered. “I wasn’t thinking…”
Avery’s voice was choked with emotion. “I just don’t want you to make the same mistake I made,” he said.
“I get that, I really do,” Issie said gently. “But you’re trying to change history. Even if I take the safe route on Victory and Storm, it isn’t going to bring him back.”
She looked her trainer in the eyes. “The alternative route is too slow and I will lose if I take it. You have to let me take the risk and jump the Vicarage Ditch.”
Avery sighed, admitting defeat, “When exactly did you become the smart one in our relationship?”
Issie smiled. “Oh, please! If I’m the smart one then we really are in trouble!”
Avery put his arm around her shoulder. “Come on,” he said, “let’s go back to the truck. I think you know exactly what you’re doing. Straight through the big jumps all the way to home.”
They kept the conversation purely on practical matters as they walked back to the truck. This wasn’t difficult since there was still so much to prepare for tomorrow. Francoise was running a last-minute check on their tack and equipment. And Stella was down at the stables with both the horses, bedding them in for the evening.
Victory and Storm had both been allocated stalls in the main Badminton House stable block, a stately stone building constructed around a quadrangle courtyard. The main stables took 45 horses, almost half the contingent who were competing over the period of the three-day event, and the loose boxes were beautiful with high ceilings and elegant flagstone floors. They were also high maintenance and Stella had spent most of the day down there, mucking out and replacing Victory and Storm’s bedding, organising their feeds and water troughs.
She arrived back at the horse truck at the same time as Issie and Tom, her curly red hair scraped back beneath a cheesecutter cap, which looked like it had been stolen out of Avery’s closet. Her jodhpurs were covered in straw and muck, which she made a half-hearted attempt to brush off before she stepped inside the kitchen of the horse truck and collapsed on one of the bench seats.
“Ohmygod!” Stella groaned. “I am exhausted and starving. When is dinner?”
“Dinner,” Avery told her, “will be on the table shortly.” Stella looked pleased until he added, “…just as soon as you cook it.”
In the end, all four of them pitched in to make spaghetti with tomato and tuna sauce and a green salad on the side.
“Carbo loading for tomorrow,” Stella told Issie as she dished up a second helping of pasta onto her plate.
“I don’t need to fuel up,” Issie insisted. “Victory and Storm are the ones who’ll be doing the hard work!”
“They’ve already had their dinner,” Stella said. “I gave them their feeds before I left the stables. Victory bolted his down as usual, but Storm wasn’t really that hungry.”
There was something about this comment that rang alarm bells for Issie. Storm was a greedy sort, known for snuffling his feed down in five minutes flat and nickering for seconds.
“Was he OK?” Issie asked Stella.
“He was a bit tense,” Stella admitted. “You know, after the dressage test, and being somewhere new. He was walking around his stall when I left him, taking little bites of his feed and then wandering away again.”
Issie looked up from her plate. “Maybe I should go check on him?”
