Free Whispering Back by Adam Goodfellow

coffee and meet each other before Monty arrived. There were eighteen of us. The atmosphere was electric. I think we were probably all worried that we would say the wrong thing, create a bad first impression, and were anxious to establish allies straight away. Questions sparked around the room: ‘How many times have you read the book?’ ‘What do you think he’ll be like?’ ‘Have you seen a demonstration?’ ‘What sort of horses will there be on the course?’ ‘Will we have to show him what we can do today?’
    Then all of a sudden he was there. We all sat down, Kelly introduced him, and he started talking.
    ‘I feel very humbled,’ he began, ‘to see you all here today. To have such young, bright, enthusiastic students on a course to learn my methods is a great honour.’
    I looked around the room. Not everyone was under sixty, but Kelly later informed me that anyone under fifty-five is a kid to Monty.
    As he continued, I felt a surge of happiness. I was in the right place, I was doing the right thing, I was going in the right direction. Ten weeks of self-indulgent learning stretched out ahead of me. For once, I was studying something that I really wanted to know about. But would I be any good at it?
    Kelly then asked us to introduce ourselves, and say a little about our experience with horses and what we hoped to get out of the course. I was very impressed by the other students – it seemed they had all done much more exciting things than I had. I mentioned starting Sensi, and having my own small business. I’m sure Monty and Kelly gave me the same reassuring smiles they gave everyone, but I wouldn’t have known, staring as I was at my hands the whole time. Monty often laments the fact that the English don’t seem capable of looking people in the eye and giving a firm handshake. I’ve often felt like contesting this notion, but I can’t honestly say that anyone in the room that day actually met his gaze and spoke confidently to the room. It didn’t seem to occur to Monty that his presence might have been the cause of such shyness.
    After lunch we went to the stables, and Monty worked with three horses, introducing the first two youngsters to their first saddle, bridle, and rider, and putting the first saddle and long-lines on a third. It was fascinating, and I got my first glimpse of his incredible energy. When the day was over, I reluctantly drove home, head buzzing, trying to imprint every last detail in my mind.
    As I told Adam all about my day that evening, I was already feeling the first pangs of nostalgia. One day was over, the course wouldn’t last for ever, what was there afterwards? Would I ever have this sort of opportunity again?
    After the morning lectures the next day, we headed out to the stud stables again. I had noticed that on the first afternoon Kelly had done something that struck me as curious: she had asked for volunteers to take her car to drive Monty to the stable yard. What she wanted was for people to get the chance to have an informal chat with Monty on the way over, to get to know him as an individual, and not be too much in awe of him. I was very dubious about this idea. Although I’d passed my driving test in a manual car by this time, I was used to driving an automatic. I could envisage the embarrassment of repeatedly stalling Kelly’s rather sporty car, grinding the gears, or perhaps even crashing it. I hid at the back when Kelly asked for volunteers, careful not to meet her eye. It didn’t strike me as a good omen, though – if I couldn’t bear to expose even my driving skills to scrutiny, what would I be like in the pen?
    That afternoon, we worked on the horses again; the two that had been sat on briefly the day before, by an assistant tutor, were this time taken through the process by students. Monty called instruction from the outside of the pen, and the students concerned did an admirable job. I was one of several people who had leapt at the chance to ‘have a