Free Secrets by Linda Chapman Page B

nowhere to be seen. Helen held Picasso while Ellie walked around the course, checking the jumps, assessing the angles of the fences and counting strides between the combinations so that she could give Picasso the best ride possible. She found out from Sam, who was walking the course too, that there hadn’t been many clears in Luke’s class in the end. It was a tricky course, but Ellie was sure Picasso would cope with it.
    “Thanks,” she said gratefully to Helen when she returned to Picasso. “I should be all right now. Len will turn up for the class—Luke’s bound to, as well.”
    “OK, see you later!” said Helen, breaking into a run.
    “I’ll come and help as soon as I’ve finished!” Ellie called after her, feeling bad that Helen had to prepare Fizz and Bill on her own.
    She started riding Picasso around again. Just before the class started Len appeared. “Where’s Luke?” he asked.
    Ellie shrugged. She might be fed up with Luke, but she wouldn’t cause trouble for him.
    Her uncle shook his head and started to run a cloth expertly over Picasso’s coat. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on with him today, but he’d flamin’ well better snap out of it.”
    Ellie stared. Her uncle knew Luke better than most people—he’d given him a home for most of his life, treated him like a son. Could he really not work out why Luke might not be his usual self that day?
    “To mess things up—at a show like this …”
    “Maybe it had something to do with the fact his parents are here?” Ellie said, unable to stop herself. “I mean, maybe that could have upset him?”
    Her uncle frowned. “It better bloody not be that. What does it matter who’s watching you? You get in the ring and you do your stuff. End of story.”
    His eyes were stony. Feeling Ellie tighten the reins angrily, Picasso fidgeted. With a supreme effort, she forced herself to control her temper. She wasn’t going to do anyone any favors by getting mad. It wouldn’t help Luke and she could just imagine her uncle’s mood if she messed up in the ring too.
    The steward opened the rope across the entrance and called her number.
    Ellie clicked her tongue and rode forward. She wished Luke had come to watch her, but as she rode through the entrance she pushed all thoughts away and concentrated on Picasso and the jumping course ahead. The dark bay pony had so much energy and power—at just the touch of her heels he could move up a gear into a gallop and he had a massive jump. The challenge was keeping him sweet; not letting him put a buck in after a fence, encouraging him to show off without going over the top. Ellie had put hours of training into him, being shouted at by her uncle, falling off, riding him on her own, and she had ridden him in for ages earlier that day. It all paid off. With the sun shining down, she jumped the best round of her life. Picasso cleared every fence without hesitation, his hooves tucked up neatly, his ears pricked. As they flew through the finish at a gallop, they heard a massive round of applause from the spectators in the stand. Ellie was overjoyed and patted him again and again. Picasso loved the clapping and praise and nodded his head up and down, as if inviting more.
    There was barely time to catch her breath before she was in the conformation ring. Still on a high from the jumping, they both performed a foot-perfect show. The conformation ring was small and slightly cramped, but they managed a gallop at the end before she pulled him up and halted in front of the judges, beaming. They smiled back and Ellie felt a rush of triumph. She’d done everything she possibly could.
    Her uncle thought so too. As she took Picasso out of the ring to strip his tack off and complete the final phase of the class, he strode over, his face delighted. “You nailed it, lass!” he exclaimed. “Excellent work.” Ellie could have dropped through the ground in surprise. It was the most praise her uncle had ever given her.