Chapter Thirty-Seven
‘You did this for me?’ River laughs as we reach Hyde Park Stables. ‘You woke with the dawn to do this for me?’
I nod, yawning in the early morning air, admiring the park at this hushed time of day. The grass spreads out before us, sun-parched to the golden colour of corn. The sky is dreamlike and pink and still. It’s looks like a Turner painting.
So this is why people wake with the dawn.
‘Told the owner I had a cowboy in town and that we wanted to ride together. If you can’t be a riding teacher back in Bedlam, I thought maybe you could at least give me a lesson before you leave.’
‘I can’t believe this is here, right in the middle of the city.’ River scans the surroundings, eyes wide. He beams. ‘I don’t say this often, Owl, but I am very excited right now.’
We push through a creaking wooden gate, where an older woman in beige jodhpurs greets River like he’s a celebrity. She introduces herself as Sharon.
‘A real-life cowboy!’ she remarks breathily. Then, noticing the sequinned ribbon on River’s hat, she looks less sure.
‘Yes, ma’am.’ River tips his hat. ‘Been ranching since I was fifteen years old.’
‘So this isn’t your … first rodeo then? Haha.’
‘Nope. There’s no slack in my rope.’
‘What?’
‘No slack in my rope?’
‘Okay then!’ Sharon smiles brightly, deciding, correctly, that it’s much too early for more small talk.
‘I’ll go and get Black Fire and Frosty Tops ready and then we’ll do the new rider assessment and safety briefing.
I know you don’t need an escort, River, being an expert and all, but I will have to accompany you both for insurance purposes.
I will stay a little behind, though. Give you some privacy on your romantic ride. ’
Romantic ride?
I open my mouth to correct Sharon but the truth is, it kind of is romantic.
I know that River and I are just having a fling before he goes, but somehow everything in my life has started to feel romantic.
Eating my cereal – romantic. Taking a shower – romantic.
Doing my hand exercises because the amount of writing I’m doing is making them cramp – romantic.
I sneak a glance at River, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. I wonder if Sharon’s comment has made him uncomfortable?
While Sharon heads off towards the stable, River gives me a serious look. ‘You ready to learn the ways of the saddle, Owl?’
‘I am, but fair warning, I’m hopeless at physical stuff. I once fell off a trampoline before I’d even done one bounce. I’m not built for riding.’
‘Believe me, you are perfectly built for riding,’ River says, straight face belying the intention of his words. ‘I’ve got a gut feeling you’ll be a natural.’
*
While I am definitely not a natural, River is an excellent teacher.
Clear, direct and kind and forgiving when I do the wrong thing – which happens a lot.
I have managed to stay astride the almost pony-sized Frosty Tops (the horse that Sharon decided would be perfect for me because ‘she is an almost worryingly docile beast’) for a whole twenty-five minutes, with River ambling at my side on his horse, Black Fire, a huge shiny stallion.
We make our way down one of the pretty gravelled pathways of the park, huge fluffy sycamore trees causing the sun to scatter over us in dapples like a bucolic disco ball.
I glance behind me to see Sharon on a pretty brown horse, about a hundred metres back, tapping out something on her phone while she rides.
‘How do you like it?’ River asks excitedly, eyes glittering and joyful. ‘Isn’t it the best feeling in the damn world?’
‘I mean … it’s all right?’ I laugh, with a shrug of my shoulder. ‘My bum hurts a bit. But yeah, it’s cool.’
River shakes his head. ‘Cool? Well, then we just need to go a little faster.’
I shake my head quickly. ‘No, thanks. This is fine by me. This is the exact right speed.’
River laughs. ‘Don’t you want to feel the wind in your hair?’
‘It’s August. There is no bloody wind.’
‘We create the wind!’ River cries dramatically, throwing a daring glance across at me. ‘C’mon. I reckon you’ll like it.’
As the pathway opens up, revealing a long empty stretch of trail, a sudden burst of abandon sparks through me – something that seems to be happening more and more when I’m in the company of River Oakley. The man’s confidence is infectious. ‘All right,’ I say. ‘Let’s do it.’
‘Now Gertie, I want you to squeeze your legs together, like squeezing water out of a sponge. This is how you ask her to trot.’
I follow River’s instructions and it works! Frosty Tops takes off and all at once I’m bouncing so high my whole body feels like it’s going to bruise.
‘Bring your hips forward and down. Go with her flow. Bend and then straighten your elbows. That’s it. Bend and straighten.’
‘Am I doing it right?’ I call out, starting to feel a little breeze in my hair.
‘You’re creating wind!’ River laughs triumphantly, keeping exact pace with me as we start to trot across the woodland. ‘Keep your calves together,’ River says. ‘Head up, chin parallel to the floor. That’s it! You’re doing it.’
I am doing it. Even though I’m a bit wobbly and my calves are already burning, I can see why he loves this so much. It feels amazing!
‘This is awesome!’
‘Ready to go even faster?’ River calls out.
‘Even faster than this?’ I gasp. ‘Can I?’
‘You can do it,’ River laughs. ‘Put your left leg back. Like that, yeah. And now your right leg at the girth – the strap that goes beneath the belly – yes, you got it. That’s great, Gertie.’
And then, as if I’ve been doing this my whole life, I am fucking cantering through Hyde Park on a horse, like a character from a book. Like a scene from a movie. It feels like flying.
‘Woooo hoooo!’ I yell into the open air. ‘Look at me goooooooo!’
River tips his head back with laughter. ‘See? I told you! Look at you go!’
‘Oh my God, I see,’ I call back breathlessly. ‘I totally see. This is incredible.’
As we race forward, the trees thin out and the morning sun beams down on me. A self-created breeze lifts my hair from my neck. I glance over at the cowboy next to me. I can’t believe this is real. How can this moment be real?
Do you see this, Josie? Look at me go!
I laugh out loud again and am wondering vaguely whether I should start a new career in something competitively equestrian, and also whether adults can get those rosettes that my pony-loving friends got when we were kids, when something darts out in front of us across the path.
It’s some kind of small woodland creature, maybe a squirrel.
But either way, Frosty Tops is not happy about it.
She rears back with a loud whinny, hooves reaching towards the sky.
I already know that I’m going to fall off before I even start to.
It seems to happen in slow motion – a tumble from what feels like a great height, although Frosty Tops can’t be more than four feet tall.
I land on the hard dusty ground, my ankle twisting in a direction that it is absolutely not designed to twist in.
There’s blackness for a moment, a wave of nausea and sickening pain in my foot.
I’m definitely going to pass out … A weird noise emits from my throat, somewhere between a groan and a howl.
I open my eyes and see leaves and snatches of sky, and then a face above me – River, looking absolutely horrified. He crouches down, brows furrowed.
‘Oh, God. Gertie, are you okay?’
‘Hurts.’
‘Fuck. Have you hit your head? Can you move?’
‘My head is fine,’ I say, slowly sitting up and taking a steadying breath. ‘But my ankle really hurts. I think I might have … oh God. I do not have a high pain threshold, River!’
‘Don’t move, okay? Fuck. I’m sorry, Gertie. I got carried away.’
Sharon trots up and quickly dismounts, not having witnessed what happened but seeing the sorry result of it. ‘Oh dear! Did you take a tumble, dear? Are you okay? You’ll have a fair bruise tomorrow.’
‘My fault,’ River says. ‘Entirely my fault. Okay, Gertie, I’m gonna carry you and we’ll get a cab to the emergency room.’ His voice is gentle and calm, but his face is pale with worry.
‘You’re very efficient,’ I say, my teeth starting to chatter at the sickening pain in my ankle. ‘I might puke, fair warning.’
‘Puke if you need to,’ River says.
‘But the puke would get on you.’
‘I work a ranch. I’ve had a lot worse than puke on me.’
‘Ew.’
‘I know.’
‘I’ll try really hard not to puke.’
I’m clearly not trying hard enough, though, because about half a second later I throw up all over his beloved cowboy boots.