The Almost Exmoor

By R. S. Turner

Nine-year-old Samantha has some questions.
When is an Exmoor Pony not an Exmoor Pony? What will her twelve-year old sister, Emily, do now she’s grown too tall for her pony?
Can she deal with taunts and lies from Mia whose pony is on the same Yard?
Gemma, Samantha’s friend, would love her own pony, but how can her Mu

• Language: English
• Publisher: 2QT Limited (Publishing)
• Release date: Aug 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781913071233

Book preview

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

WHAT HAPPENED NEXT

The Ugly Duckling

Half-Term and After

Christmas and the New Year

The Inspection

Summer Again

‘The Story Goes On

EXMOOR PONIES: ANCIENT OR NOT?

Some horse-words used in this book

First eBook Edition published 2019 2QT Limited (Publishing)Settle, North Yorkshire BD24 9RH www.2qt.co.uk

Copyright © R. S. Turner 2019 Drawings © Daisy May Collingridge 2019

The right of R. S. Turner to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, or be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without the prior permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Any names, other than the two specified elsewhere, or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Typesetting by Dale Rennard Photograph of the foal used with the kind permission of Carol Buckley Other photographs © the author

Printed in Great Britain by Lightning Source UK Ltd

CIPP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN 978-1-913071-23-3

About the Story

At different times, R.S. Turner wanted to be a vet, a TV naturalist (like David Attenborough) and a doctor. He also wanted to write books. He did get to medical school when he was seventeen years old but quickly realised his mistake and learned all about the wrong kind of theatre. This led to his getting a job at the BBC, where he ended up as a director of Children’s Drama, on the way adapting many children’s books for the long-running series, Jackanory. His first four books were all about television production.

Now, he says, After years working in children’s television, it’s been brilliant working with my daughter on this story based on her own ‘Almost Exmoor’ pony.

Practically everything that happened to Sunny happened to that real pony (who eventually became a ‘proper’, fully registered Exmoor), but all the human characters are imaginary.

There are several approaches to caring for and training horses and ponies. Sunny and her real counterpart respond well to natural horsemanship so that is what is described here.

Leake Garth Livery Yard, Gillbrough and the River Wathom do not quite exist, but they are placed in the north of the Yorkshire Dales, which are real. The Yorkshire Moors, Middlesbrough, Darlington, Nottingham, Northallerton, Patrick Brompton and Exmoor are all real places.

The story is brought to life by photographs of the family’s real Exmoor pony and drawings of Sammy’s imaginings by Daisy May Collingridge, who spent many childhood holidays in the Yorkshire Dales. This is her first set of book illustrations, but she already has a brilliant portfolio of eccentric animal drawings, and a large body of work as a textile artist.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

With special thanks:

To my daughter, who collaborated with me in writing this book.

To Arlene McIntosh, for her splendid map of Leake Garth Farm.

To Susan McGeever and Sandra and David Mansell at the Exmoor Pony Society, for their help, and for all the information on the website.

To Yvonne Brookes, the accredited Level 3 teacher in Enlightened Equitation, who not only fact-checked the story, but introduced us to the system and our Almost Exmoor to dressage.

To Ellie Masters, for her help and advice.

To Heather Moffett, who wrote the book Enlightened Equitation and developed the system, for giving permission to use her name and her trademark.

To The Royal Literary Fund for their kind permission to adapt the line ‘Which in your case you have not got’ from Henry Reed’s poem, Naming of Parts.

To Monty Roberts, horse gentler, for his kind permission to use the term Join-Up® (a trademark of Roberts Equus, LLC). The book, Horse Sense for Leaders: Building Trust-based Relationships discusses his methods and their applications.

To our farrier, Martin Simmonds.

To Collie, our own Exmoor pony, without whom we would not have had a story or the photographs.

And finally to Catherine Cousins, Dale Rennard and Mandy Tragner at 2QT Publishing, without whom there would be no book!

Chapter 1

Not Quite an Exmoor

‘Mia called me a pony-squasher!’

My big sister, Emily, flopped down mopily on to my bed at the end of a soggy, warm day in July.

‘Typical Mia,’ I said. ‘Mum would say, Ignore her.’

Mia Coleman had been on the yard for only a few months. She’d moved from another one not far away, for some reason. I wasn’t the only one who wished she’d stayed there.

‘And I’m not a pony-squasher.’ Emily sighed. ‘I’m too tall for Owen, not too heavy. I’ve grown and he hasn’t.’

‘Oh, Em, I know, and you’ve won so many competitions and loads of rosettes.’ Emily’s room was decorated with them. I liked riding Owen and I’d won a few rosettes too, with his help. He’s a lovely little bay, a Welsh A.

‘He likes winning rosettes,’ Emily said.

I agreed ‘Yes, he’s a very rosetteful pony.’

Emily wasn’t listening. ‘Sammy, it’s … impossible, I can’t go on riding him.’

Loads of people call me Sam or Sammy, but my proper name’s Samantha.

Emily had had Owen since they were both eight years old and I was five. She’s been barmy about horses ever since she was four. Mum and Dad said they’d let Emily ride a pony when we were on holiday in Wales. Emily’s grin of delight lasted for the whole of the leafy half-hour ride round the hillside farm. I was only one and I don’t remember any of it.

Now Emily was twelve, so of course she’d grown. Owen couldn’t. I rode Owen too. I liked riding him, but I didn’t really want to take him over. If I’d wanted a pony for myself, this would be a different story, but I didn’t – there were so many other things I wanted to try – though it gave us a problem. What could we do with him?

A few days later, my friend Gemma and I were talking about ponies and horses. We were in the playground at break, sitting on a bench watching some boys running around turning red-faced in the sun. Boring!

‘I love ponies,’ said Gemma. ‘You’re lucky.’

‘I love Owen,’ I told her. ‘It’s great riding him, but I like lots of other things, too. I suppose we are lucky. Mum saw some sweatshirts in a tack shop which said, I used to be rich until I bought a horse!’

‘That’s it,’ Gemma sighed. ‘We don’t have the money. Since Dad died, we just can’t afford anything, Mum says.’

That was when the idea began to form in my head. ‘Your mum likes horses, too, doesn’t she?’

Gemma grinned. ‘And how. She’s always going on about when she was a girl. My grandpa had to look for work and he and my nan had to travel around to find work, so nan sent my mum and my auntie to stay with her cousins.’

‘Are they the ones who live in…? Where is it?’

‘Trinidad? Yes, it sounds great. I want to go there, too. Lucky old Mum stayed for two whole years. Her cousins worked on this farm place, only there’s, like, a riding centre there – you know, for tourists. And they taught my mum to ride. She reckons she was doing quite well, till she came home.’

‘Cool!’

‘No, it’s hot, Trinidad. It’s in the West Indies.’

That made me laugh. ‘I meant it sounds cool, you know, missing two years’ school, riding. The whole thing.’

Gemma tilted her head to one side. ‘Oh aye, except she still had to go to school and she missed the horses when she came home. She was glad to see my nan and grandpa, though. They settled in Darlington and that’s where Mum met my dad. He was a local lad and he liked horses, too.’

Gem’s shoulders sagged and the corners of her mouth turned down. ‘I still dream about him,’ she whispered. He’d died just before Christmas after some kind of heart attack. It had been a tough time for her and her mum.

I thought I could see a glisten in the corner of Gemma’s eye. It made me sad as well. I recalled when my grandad died, that was Dad’s dad, I dreamed about him still being alive, just like Gemma did about her dad. Mum told us lots of people have dreams like that, too. They weren’t bad dreams, just a bit strange. I sighed, remembering Gemma’s dad. He was lovely.

There was a pause, and then Gemma turned and gave me a quick half-grin. I said, ‘So your mum knows all about horses?’

‘Well, she knows quite a lot. We watch showjumping and that on TV. She says she’d love a pony if we could afford it, but they don’t pay her much at the hospital since she hurt her back. You know she had to stop nursing?’

On top of everything else! Yes, I did know, but the bell went. Break was over.

My idea was ripening, turning into a plan to help my sister and Owen. I couldn’t say much to anyone about it, not yet.

That weekend, we visited Kellsett, Mrs Perry’s farm. (We’d met her when she was scurry driving at a Gillbrough Equestrian Centre show. Emily was ten and she’d just come second in her class at jumping with Owen.) Mrs Perry is someone who likes us children to call her Mrs Perry, not Edwina, which is her first name. We often go there to see her Exmoor ponies, especially the foal she calls Sunny. Mrs Perry names all her Exmoor ponies after plants or trees and Sunny’s proper name is Sunflower Pride of Kellsett.

Sunny was only a couple of weeks old when Emily first met her and they’d quickly made friends.

Mrs Perry let Emily help look after the ponies, Sunny included. She’d shown Emily how to teach the foal good manners. Sunny would walk nicely on the lead rope and she wouldn’t barge through gates or stable doors (well, not very often). By now, Sunny was a two-year-old filly.

That’s where my other idea came from. What if Emily could have Sunny on loan?

On the next Monday, I went round to Gemma’s after school. Her mum, Sarah, gave us doubles, a sort of curried chickpea sandwich. Yummm. Gemma’s mum is great. They’re both slim, with pulled-back, tightly-curled black hair, and both have brown eyes. Sarah, of course, is taller and she’s darker, but there is a strong likeness. Funny thing, though, Gemma also reminds me of her dad.

Sunny at three-days-old.

After talking to Sarah, I began to think my plan could truly work. I still didn’t say anything to my family until dinner time on the Wednesday. We were all finishing ice cream and raspberries round the kitchen table.

‘Owen’s all right,’ I said. ‘I quite like riding him and grooming him, but I don’t really want a pony of my own.’

‘Are you sure?’ Mum asked. ‘We always thought you’d be able to have Owen when Em grew out of him.’

‘Yes, I know, Mum, but I’m quite sure – and I’m sure I’m sure.’

So we had three problems: firstly, deciding what to do with Owen; secondly, finding a bigger pony for Emily; and thirdly, finding the money, perhaps, to keep both ponies.

Even now, a good pony can be pricey and from things Mum and Dad said, it sounded as though we could only just afford to keep one, but it felt wrong just to sell Owen and never see him again. You sometimes hear stories about horses being sold and sold again then ending up with people who don’t care for them properly. We didn’t want that.

I told everyone my answer to two of the problems. ‘Gemma wants a pony, but her mum can’t afford to buy one and all the tack,’ I said. ‘So, let’s loan Owen to Gemma and Sarah. That way, Gemma’s mum won’t have to buy anything and Em can keep an eye on Owen because he won’t need to move – and we’d save some money, too.’

‘Well,’ said Dad, ‘there’s a thought… Umm… Does Gemma’s mum know about any of this?’

‘Oh, yes.’ I said, ‘I was at hers yesterday and they were talking about ponies. Gemma’s mum said she couldn’t afford a good one for Gem so she’d have to wait.’ Mum and Dad both hesitated and glanced at each other, so I added, ‘Gemma’s had lessons and done own-a-pony days and she’s been with us and helped Emily look after Owen. Em’s happy to let her ride him, too.’

‘Maybe I could have a word with Sarah,’ said Mum.

That’s what I hoped she’d say. I ‘forgot’ to mention the last thing I’d said to Gemma’s mum. ‘I know Emily’s getting to be too tall for Owen, so we need to find him a new home. Wouldn’t it be good if we could fix something up to help Gemma? I’m sure Owen would like that. Gem’s one of his toppiest people.’ (I like to invent words – you can probably tell.)

If it was OK with Sarah, Gemma could have Owen on loan and just pay for his keep. It would be nearly as good as owning him.

The answer to the problem about a new pony for Emily was a surprise to the rest of the family, but not to me. There was a phone call next day from Mrs Perry. Em was already there when I wandered into the living room. Mum was answering the phone. ‘Hello, Kath Taylor speaking.’

‘Kath? Edwina Perry here. I’ve got a proposition for you.’ Mum moved the phone away from her ear. Mrs Perry’s voice is loud and, once she starts, you don’t need the phone on speaker.