Free The Riding School (Pony Tales) by C. P. Mandara Page B

corridor. Peering down at the paperwork in her hands, she attempted to read the small text but found it was impossible in the dim light.
    ' Hello,' she ventured, but the pair at the end of the hall continued chatting animatedly and after trying an additional time, Jenny finally decided she'd had just about enough of this treatment. Did they have any idea who they were dealing with? 'Hello,' she said yet again, but this time much more sharply and was rewarded as both ladies turned around to stare at her, mouths open wide. What was it with the people around here? Maybe they were all completely insane, having lived in the country for far too long.
    Finally, mouths snapping shut, the ladies turned around to face her and smiled. The oldest one, who had greying hair in a bun of which fizzy ends threatened to escape at any opportunity, began to speak.
    'Hello there, dearie, you must be Miss Redcliff I'm thinking. Well, let me introduce myself. My name is Agnes and this here,' she pointed to her portly colleague, 'is Henrietta. We'll just need to take a few measurements from you in order to get you started. It's a real shame you're late because you could be out in the paddock by now having fun with all the other fillies if you'd turned up just a smidgeon earlier. Ah well, can't be helped. Traffic was it?'
    ' Something like that,' murmured Jenny, when it had in fact been a leisurely breakfast at one of London's most expensive dining establishments followed by a spa detour involving a manicure, pedicure and hour long aromatherapy massage.
    Henrietta nodded. 'Well, if you would just like to follow us for a moment, we'll get you back on tack in a jiffy.' She laughed at her own joke.
    Jenny was beginning to think the staff at this hotel were either completely mad, or very nearly. Fillies in fields? Back on tack? Was it possible they were living in an alternate universe?
    Henrietta, her red hair pinned up with numerous coloured pencils which stuck out at random angles, ushered Jenny inside a room which had Pony Tack emblazoned across the door in red and black antique lettering. There was so much leather inside, it wasn't as if you were going to mistake the room for any other use, thought Jenny wryly as she walked through the open door. Interestingly, there was a bizarre brown leather horse contraption centred in the middle of the room with leather straps of varying sizes hanging off it at different intervals. What on earth was that used for? As if that wasn't enough, there were literally hundreds of shiny black leather bits in a large cardboard box to the far left, another box housed an impressive stack of black and orange rubber balls and yet another box was filled with yards and yards of coarse long black hair.
    ' What do you think?' asked Henrietta, who was smiling broadly and displaying a rather yellowed set of teeth. 'It's lovely isn't it? Our tack comes from all around the world and some choice pieces take over three months to make. Have a good look around and do let me know if there is anything in particular you'd like. Oh, can I just have a look at your paperwork, sweetie?'
    Jenny barely heard her as her gaze had settled on a row of wooden shelving at the front of the room containing leather circlets. Were they collars? As Henrietta held out a hand for the paperwork, she handed it over silently. They weren 't collars for horses because they were far too small. Some of the collars were very deep in width; some were barely a centimetre wide; others featured metal spikes, large D-rings and ropes of silver chain in several degrees of thickness and length. The collars were made in colours ranging through white, yellow, blue, green, coral, red and black. Spinning around to the rear of the room, nervous adrenaline beginning to pump through her body, she noted both black leather and PVC boots, most of which were knee-high with the remainder being so long they had to be thigh high. Most featured intricate lacing and gleaming metal eyelets,