Shopaholic and Sister (Shopaholic #4) 29

“Becky…” Luke looks at me carefully. “Have you ever been on a horse in your life?”

“Yes! Of course I have!”

Once. When I was ten. And I fell off. But I probably wasn’t concentrating or something.

“Just be careful, won’t you?” he says. “I’m not quite ready to become a widower.”

“I’ll be fine!” I say, glancing at my special new “equestrian” watch with compass built in. “I’d better go!”

The horses are all kept some way from the house in a stable block, and as I approach I can hear the sounds of whinnying and hooves clattering in the stable yard.

“Hi!” says Lulu, appearing round the corner in a pair of ancient jodhpurs and a fleece jacket. “All set—” She breaks off as she sees me. “Oh my God.” She snorts with laughter. “Suze, come and look at Becky!”

“What is it?” Suze hurries round the corner and stops dead.

“Gosh, Bex,” she says. “You’re very… smart!”

I take in Suze’s filthy old jodhpurs, her muddy boots, and her battered riding hat. As I look down at my own shiny gear I suddenly feel mortified. How could I have been so stupid?

But I’m not going to act embarrassed in front of Lulu. Chin up.

“I wanted to make an effort!” I say, trying to sound light and matter-of-fact.

“What’s that?” Lulu is looking incredulously at my rosette.

“It’s a corsage. They were selling them in the riding shop,” I add pointedly.

“For the horses,” Suze says gently. “Bex, they go on the horses.”

“Oh.”

For a moment I’m a bit discomfited. But then… why shouldn’t people wear them too?

“Here we are!” Albert, who runs the horses at Suze’s parents’ place, interrupts us. He’s leading an enormous brown horse along by the reins. “We’re putting you on Ginger today. He’s pretty good-natured, aren’t you, boy?”

I freeze in horror. This? He’s expecting me to get on this monster? I was envisioning some nice little pony.

Albert hands me the reins and I take them automatically, trying not to panic. The horse takes a step forward with an enormous, heavy hoof, and I give a frightened jump out of the way. What if it steps on my foot?

“Aren’t you going to mount?” asks Lulu, swinging herself up into the saddle of a horse which is, if anything, bigger than mine.

“Of course!” I say with a nonchalant laugh.

How? How am I supposed to get up there?

“Want a leg up?” says Tarquin, who has been talking to Albert a few yards away. He comes up behind me, and before I know it, he’s hefted me right up into the saddle.

Oh my God.

I’m so high. When I look down, I feel dizzy. Suddenly Ginger takes a step sideways, and I try not to gasp in fright.

“Shall we go?” calls Suze, who is on her old black horse, Pepper, and with a clip-clop she’s off through the gate, into the field. Lulu makes a clicking sound with her tongue, swings her horse round, and follows.

Right. My turn. Go.

Go on, horse. Move.

I have no idea what to do next. Do I kick it? Experimentally I pull on one of the reins, but nothing happens.

“Gee-up,” I mutter under my breath. “Gee-up, Ginger!”

Suddenly, as though he’s noticed that his friends have gone, he starts walking forward. And it’s… OK. It’s fine. It’s just a bit more… bumpy than I’d imagined. I look ahead at Lulu, and she’s totally comfortable. In fact, she’s got her reins gathered up in one hand.

“Close the gate!” she yells to me.

Close the gate? I think in panic. How am I supposed to close the gate?

“I’ll do it,” Tarquin calls. “Have a good time!”

“OK!” I call back gaily.

Right. As long as we just keep ambling along, I’ll be OK. In fact, this could almost be fun. The sun’s shining, the breeze is ruffling the grass, and the horses are all lovely and shiny. Some people are walking along the side of the field on a footpath, and as we pass by I give them a nonchalant “Don’t I look great on my horse?” nod and twirl my riding crop. And they look really impressed!

Maybe I’ve found my natural talent. Maybe Luke and I should buy some horses and a few acres of land. We could do field events and show jumping, like Suze—

Shit. What’s going on? All of a sudden, Ginger has started jolting up and down.

OK. Don’t panic. This must be trotting.

I look at Suze and Lulu, and they’re both rising up and falling in time with their horses. I try to copy them, but all that happens is I crash painfully back onto the saddle. Ouch. God, saddles are hard. Why don’t they make them padded? If I were a horse saddle designer I’d make them really soft and comfy, with furry cushions and drinks holders, maybe, and—