My Ellie (The Perfectly Paired #1)

Chapter 2

Ellie

If I never hear this song again, it’ll be ten years too soon I think to myself as Coldplay’s Viva la Vida blares through the arena speakers.

I count off the beat in my head as Remi’s hooves rise and fall in time with the music, as he listens to the subtle squeeze of my calves and adjusts himself accordingly.

This is the eighth time we’ve gone through our routine this morning, and it’s not even 10:00 am.

Remi lifts his right leg for the start of the walking pirouette and takes a beat too long to place it back down again, throwing our timing off. Before I can blink, the music in the arena shuts off and I’m torn from my bubble of concentration.

“ Again , Eleanor, do it again!” My mother shrieks from where she leans against the gate of the enclosed arena.

It’s raining today, so we’re training in the indoor school. It’s not a coincidence, the way she positions herself in front of the only exit. I know she’ll keep us in here until she’s happy with our performance. She’s kept us in the arena from sunup until sundown before, she’ll do it again without hesitation.

My mother is—was—a world class dressage rider. She’s competed at every level and has even won herself an Olympic medal. I used to travel to all of her events and marvel at her performances, until a life-altering injury changed the course of both of our lives.

Remi, my gelding, shudders beneath me and I frown down at the sheen of sweat that sticks to his shoulders.

He’s tired, I’m tired. I know she’s tired too, and I can tell that her back is starting to hurt. I watch her gingerly place one hand on the back of her hip, a strained wince flickers across her face.

“He’s tired, mother. Let’s take a break, we can come back to it later—”

“I didn’t pay eighty thousand pounds for him to need a fucking break after a few hours of training, Eleanor!” She shouts before turning her back to me, muttering several expletives under her breath. She digs into the pocket of her gilet before raising her hand to her mouth. She throws back her head, swallowing the contents of her hand with a shudder.

We’ve been in the arena for five hours now running through the same dressage routine with barely any breaks. She choreographed the routine, so her standards are understandably high. She isn’t happy with the way we’re executing our walking pirouettes, and I know they’re not perfect yet, but we just need to give Remi some time on his lateral work for him to get used to the timing.

This is, by far, the most complex routine Remi and I have ever attempted in the four years we’ve been working together, but my mother doesn’t want to hear excuses—and I don’t want to give them to her.

It’s incredibly hard to communicate this with her when she’s like this—I know she’s in pain and we’re all tired, but I need to be Remi’s advocate, since he doesn’t have a voice of his own and—

“Did you not hear me?” She takes a step forward, away from the gate, and even though Remi and I are at least twenty feet away from her, I feel him tense beneath me. She holds her riding crop in one hand and flicks it up and down in irritation as she approaches.

“I told you to do it—” Rushed footsteps sound behind her, causing her to stop and turn in the direction of the noise.

“Hey!” I’m thankful for Sanya on the best of days, but right now I could press a kiss to my best friend’s lips. She’s been living on my family’s property since we both graduated from university, and we’ve been on the British Equestrian team together for the past three years.

My shoulders relax a little as she jogs up to the arena, resting her hands on the gate as she catches her breath. Her eyes flicker between my mother and I excitedly, “Coach Wareham just called, he’s secured our training base for the next few months.” She holds up a finger, keeping us in suspense as she sucks in a few more breaths.

I make a mental note to try and drag her along on my morning runs.

“The Tewkesbury Estate, he wants us to be there by tomorrow at the latest. I say we go today, thoughts?”

I’m flooded with fond memories of last summer, when the other facility Coach Wareham had reserved fell through at the last minute. Rolling hills and scenic bridle paths bordered the estate with views of untouched beauty stretching for miles in every direction—not that I had much time to explore the grounds at all.

It had been a time of less pressure, with the Olympics a faraway blip on the horizon, but we still practiced for hours every day.

My mother smiles, “Lord Chamberlain’s estate?” She chuckles, and I feel a little of my excitement and happiness drain away. She thwacks the end of her riding crop into her free hand. “That old codger. I think I’ll tag along, it’ll be nice to see what he’s done with the place in the last year or so.”

I tell myself I don’t mind if she tags along, she attends almost every team meet up, every event, every practice session.

It’s what supportive parents do.

I know that Coach Wareham seems to like having her around, he listens to her counsel and allows her to make decisions on my routines and practices. She can be a little... demanding at times—but I know it’s only because she wants what’s best for me .

We have this dream, my mother and I—to win a gold at the Olympics. There are just a few hurdles to cross before it can be realized... I just hope I’ve got what it takes to achieve it for the both of us.

Mother turns towards the gate and Sanya steps back as it swings wide. “Get him ready to leave in the next couple of hours, we’ll be some of the first to arrive.” She calls back as she heads towards the house. I don’t miss the slight limp in her step, the faltering of her gait as she disappears inside the front door.

Sanya gives me a knowing look as she approaches Remi and I. I’ve dismounted and loosened his girth before she reaches us.

“Still struggling with the walking pirouette—”

“Yes.” I snap, immediately regretting my sharp tone. “I’m sorry, San.” I sigh, turning to her with an apologetic smile that I’m sure doesn’t quite meet my eyes.

She takes Remi’s reigns, “It’ll be fine, you and twinkle toes just need some one-on-one time with Coach.” She pats his sweat-slick neck, and we begin to make our way to the stable block.

I trail my hand along the white brick wall as we lead Remi to the wash stall. I know every centimeter of this part of the property, every crack in the wall, every weather-worn piece of concrete.

I’ve spent more time in these stables, in the arenas and on the bridle paths than I’ve spent in the stupidly large house that sits at the center of everything.

It’s strange to call a place home when it’s never really felt like yours.

For most of my life I’ve been away at boarding school, until university when my mother insisted it would be best for me to live on the family property and commute to campus every day.

It’s normal for a mother to want her daughter to be close. This way, she’s able to oversee all my training, able to watch over me and make sure I’m progressing adequately.

Sanya fetches her own horse, Gordon Lovejoy the Third, and brings him into the wash stall right next to Remi. She chats excitedly about the upcoming training camp, taking time to give herself a beard of suds several times, which never fails to make me laugh. Sanya can lift my spirits on my darkest of days, even when I’m tired and sore from a long day of practice. By the time we’ve got our horses washed and prepped for travel, I’ve almost forgotten about how badly practice went this morning.

I’m braiding Remi’s mane when her phone pings, and she reaches into the front pocket of her raincoat to retrieve it. I don’t miss the way she grins and excitedly taps away on the keys.

After fifteen years of friendship, I can read Sanya Shah like an open book.

“That wouldn’t be from our favorite Irish chap, now, would it?” I narrow my eyes at her as a blush grows across her olive cheeks .

“He’s just excited for us to arrive, said his job is so boring without us.” She tries to sound uninterested, as if her little heart isn’t dancing around in her chest as she rereads the message.

We became fast friends with Rory last year when we spent the summer at the estate. He was on track to become one of the most successful jockeys on the European circuit but ended up getting caught up in something that put the brakes on all those grand plans.

He always got quiet when the subject was broached, and we never pushed it, but I’m sure Sanya knows the whole story by now.

I scrunch my nose at the thought of being their third wheel for the second summer in a row.

“I’m sure he’s excited for us to arrive,” I mutter as I tie off a braid and point my finger in her direction, “Tell him if I walk into your room to borrow sunscreen and find him naked again, I’ll castrate him.”

“I’ll tell him you miss him too.” She winks before shoving her phone into her pocket, “We’re ready to go, aren’t we Gordy?” She adjusts the straps on his hot-pink blanket, the vibrant color contrasting with his dapple-gray coat. She sneaks him a mint before turning to me. “I packed a couple of things in my room before rushing over here, but you,” She begins ushering me out of the stables, “You need to get your arse in there before your mum finishes packing for you.” I groan, knowing she’s right but not quite knowing if I have it in me to tell my mother, for the fiftieth time, that I can pack my own clothing.

Sanya mutters something about getting the horsebox ready and I drag my feet up the path that leads to the house.

The British National Equestrian team holds two training camps every year, one of them during the winter season where we usually travel to the south of France to take advantage of the warmer climes for a few months. The summer training camp that we’ll be attending at Tewkesbury also spans a couple of months, meaning that even in my adult years, I still don’t spend an awful lot of time here on my family’s property.

I swallow a sigh as I find my mother in my room. She’s humming to herself as she balls up a pair of socks and carefully presses it into one of the six bags she’s positioned on my bed.

I decide I do not have the energy to ask to pack my own bags as I move silently towards my closet to gather some of my riding shirts.

An upside to her lack of boundaries is that we’re done packing and loading my bags into the horsebox in less than fifteen minutes. After a quick shower, I load Remi into the back next to a very docile Gordon.

Remi is tired from our training session, but he’s still wound visibly tighter than Gordy. I reach into the passenger side of the horsebox and grab a calming chew, which he takes eagerly before continuing to anxiously lift his feet and nod his head. He’s never loved the horsebox, but we’ve worked on it with countless trainers, and he’s gotten to a point where he doesn’t need to be tranquilized for a short journey like this one.

My mother emerges from the house with her own bags, loading them into the trunk of her Range Rover before calling out to us, “Follow me girls, try to keep up.” She doesn’t wait for a response before hopping into the car and peeling out of the gravel driveway.

“You know,” I start as I hop into the driver’s seat next to Sanya, “You could’ve said Coach had chosen somewhere in France, or Spain for our summer training camp.” I muse as I snap my seatbelt into place and turn the key in the ignition. “It could’ve been explained away as an easy mistake.” I wink as I follow my mother down the driveway.

“You’re right,” She adjusts the air conditioning and sets her seat to massage mode . “I’ll do that next time I feel like having my eyes gouged out by your dear mum.”