THERE IS ALWAYS A NEXT TIME - short story by Natasha Fountain

As soon as the barn door shut behind Sarah the warmth and bustling atmosphere enveloped her. She adjusted her grip on her tack and battled up the isle, passing numerous horses being prepared for their classes and others inquisitively peering out over their doors. Arty was watching for her return with his head craned round the doorframe, and as soon as he saw her, he whickered a greeting. As she put her tack down, his soft velvet nose rummaged through her layers of clothing searching for a treat. She pushed his nose aside, scolding him softly and entered the stable. Her eyes lovingly roamed over the velvet muzzle and followed the blaze as it snaked up in between his eyes. She frowned as she noticed a piece of shavings in his forelock, then opened wide in horror as she realized they spread down his mane and his previously gleaming spotty coat was now covered in a sprinkling of shavings. Stunned she turned slowly towards his head. He stood mouthing the rope, which now hung loose from his halter, no longer attached to the string in the corner of the door. Sarah stood stunned watching him play with the dangling rope.

He jumped at the sudden movement as Sarah grabbed the rope and quickly re tied it. She grabbed a brush and flicked off the shavings, then dipped the brush in the water bucket Franticly flicked away the dust. That done began picking the shavings from his tail then his mane. She repeatidly checked her watch as she raced to meet the start time of her class. Arty yawned and scratched his head on the doorframe, completely unconcerned about the rush he had caused and quite bored about the whole thing.

The tanoy spluttered into life and announced the winners of class 13. Sarah frantically ripped the last few shavings from his tail and grabbed the saddle and threw it in place. Arty protested to the rough treatment and held his head out of reach. Sarah slapped him on the neck and grabbed at his nose. Arty began to rub his nose along the top of the stable partition. Groaning softly he closed his eyes and concentrated on one spot. All Sarah could do was watch; she could not reach to get the headstall on.

Once again the tannoy cracked. The familiar voice called the entrants to class 14 into the collecting ring, as the class was about to start. Sarah finished tightening her cinch and stood looking at Arty. A calm came over her. She ran her hand lovingly down the sleek neck and apologised for slapping him. Arty stopped scratching for a moment the soft brown eyes looked at her. He yawned but once finished his head came down and began to rummage through her clothing. Sarah gave him a polo and he opened his mouth for the bit. She removed her tracksuit bottoms to reveal her show trousers and jammed on her hat. As she led Arty from the stable she glanced back at him. Everything looked o.k.

For the final time the tannoy crackled into life and gave the final call for the class. Sarah pulled her gloves on as they rounded the corner to the collecting ring. The last horse was just entering. Sarah broke into a jog but Arty just stretched out his neck and continued to walk. As they reached the ring, Sarah paused Arty just long enough to scramble on, and then followed the other horses in.

They lined up in the middle of the arena and Arty fidgeted. Sarah tried to keep him calm, but as the horses went off one at a time he shook his head and called to them. Her turn to do the individual piece came, and he spooked at imaginary dangers and leapt into his transitions. They returned to the middle of the arena and took their place in the line. This time Arty stood still, yawned whenever the judge looked at him, and stood with his head drooping and hind leg resting. Just as she thought things could not get any worse, he broke wind as the judge walking behind him. Sarah was distraught; she fought to control the tears as they stumbled out of the ring. The same thought repeated itself in her mind. HOW COULD HE? She went without luxuries so he could have everything. How could Arty embarrass her like that after all she had done for him? Mournfully she climbed down from the saddle and walked the whole of the return journey with her back to him. As she stopped to open the stable door she felt a warm sensation on the back of her neck, then a slight tickle. She turned towards the feeling and looked directly into his nostril. She stood for a moment as a rty nuzzled her face. The warm rhythmic breath was soothing and Sarah slowly calmed down. As she rummaged in her pocket for a polo, her thoughts rationalised. As she began to remove his tack, the smell of his coat and the memory of his whickered greeting took over. She sighed. oh well there was always next time.