The stallion was next in the ring, with a mane like white sea foam tumbling down over his arched neck. Robert Gower came in with him and made him rear and stamp his hooves to order. He picked out flags of any colour – you could call out a colour and he would bring you the one you ordered. He danced on the spot and he could count up numbers up to ten by pawing the ground. He could add up, too, quicker than I could. He was a brilliant horse and so beautiful!

They cheered when he was gone too and then it was the time for the cavalry charge with the barrel organ playing marching music and Robert Gower telling about the glorious battle of Blenheim. The little pony came thundering into the ring with its harness stuck full of bright coloured flags and above them all the red cross of St George. Robert Gower explained that this symbolized the Duke of Marlborough ‘and the Flower of the English Cavalry’.

The other three ponies came in flying the French flag and while the audience sang the old song ‘The Roast Beef of Old England’, the four ponies charged at each other, their little hooves pounding the earth and churning it up into mud. It was a wonderful show and at the end the little French ponies lay down and died and the victorious English pony galloped around in a victory circle and then reared in the middle of the ring.

The drink-sellers came around then, with a tray of drinks, and there were pie-men and muffin-sellers too. Dandy and I had only our pennies and we were saving them for later. Besides, we were used to going hungry.

Next was a new horse, a great skewbald with a rolling eye and a broad back. Robert Gower stood in the centre of the ring, cracking his whip and making the horse canter round in a great steady rolling stride. Then with a sudden rush and a vault Jack came into the ring stripped down to his red shirt and his white breeches and Dandy’s hand slid into mine and she gripped me tight. As the horse thundered round and around, Jack leaped up on to her back and stood balanced, holding one strap and nothing else, one arm outflung for applause. He somersaulted off and then jumped on again and, while the horse cantered round, he swung himself off one side, and then another, and then, perilously, clambered all the way around the animal’s neck. He vaulted and faced backwards. He spun around and faced forwards. Then he finished the act, sweating and panting, with a ride around the ring, standing on the horse’s rump absolutely straight, his arms outstretched for balance, holding nothing to keep him steady, and a great jump to land on his feet beside his father.

Dandy and I leaped to our feet to cheer. I had never seen such riding. Dandy’s eyes were shining and we were both hoarse from shouting.

‘Isn’t he wonderful?’ she asked me.

‘And the horse!’ I said.

That was the high point of the show for me. But Robert Gower as Richard the Lionheart going off to war with all the little ponies and the stallion was enough to bring Dandy close to tears. Then there was a tableau of Saladin on a great black horse which I could not have recognized as the same stallion. Then Richard the Lionheart did a triumphant parade with a wonderful golden rug thrown over the horse’s back. Only his black legs showing underneath would have given the game away if you were looking.

‘Wonderful,’ sighed Dandy at the end.

I nodded. It was actually too much for me to speak.


We kept our seats. I don’t think my knees would have supported me if we had stood. I found I was staring at the muddy patch at the bottom of the hill and seeing again the flash of thundering legs and hearing in my ears the ringing of the pony bells.

All at once my breaking and training of children’s ponies seemed as dull and as dreary as an ordinary woman’s housework. I had never known horses could do such things. I had never thought of them as show animals in this way at all. And the money to be made from it! I was canny enough, even in my starstruck daze, to know that six hard-working horses would cost dear, and that Robert and Jack’s shining cleanliness did not come cheap. But as Robert closed the gate behind the last customer he came towards us swinging a money bag which chinked as if it were full of pennies. He carried it as if it were heavy.

‘Enjoy yourselves?’ he asked.

Dandy gleamed at him. ‘It was wonderful,’ she said, without a word of exaggeration. ‘It was the most wonderful thing I have ever seen.’

He nodded and raised an eyebrow at me.

‘Can the stallion really count?’ I asked. ‘How did you teach him his numbers? Can he read as well?’

An absorbed look crossed Robert Gower’s face. ‘I never thought of him reading,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘You could do a trick with him taking messages perhaps…’ Then he recollected us. ‘You’d like a ride, I hear.’

I nodded. For the first time in a thieving, cheating, bawling life I felt shy. ‘If he wouldn’t mind…’ I said.

‘He’s just a horse,’ Robert Gower said, and put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. The stallion, still dyed black, came out from behind the screen with just a halter on, obedient as a dog.

He walked towards Robert who gestured to me to stand beside the horse. Then he stepped back and looked at me with a measuring eye.

‘How old are you?’ he asked abruptly.

‘Fifteen, I think,’ I said. I could feel the horse’s gentle nose touching my shoulder, and his lips bumping against my neck.

‘Going to grow much?’ Robert asked. ‘Your ma now, is she tall? Your pa is fairly short.’

‘He’s not my da,’ I said. ‘Though I call him that. My real da is dead and my ma too. I don’t know whether they were tall or not. I’m not growing as fast as Dandy, though we’re the same age.’

Robert Gower hummed to himself and said, ‘Good,’ under his breath. I looked to see if Dandy was impatient to go but she was looking past me at the screen. Looking for Jack.

‘Up you get then,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Up you go.’

I took the rope of the halter and turned towards the stallion. The great wall of his flank went up and up, well above my head. My head was as high as the start of his great arching neck. He was the biggest horse I had ever seen.

I could vault on Jess our carthorse by yelling, ‘Hike!’ to her and taking her at a run. But she was smaller than this giant, and I did not feel fit to shout an order to him and rush at him.

I turned to Robert Gower. ‘I don’t know how,’ I said.

‘Tell him to bow,’ he said, not moving forwards. He was standing as far back as if he was in the audience. And he was looking at me as if he were seeing something else.

‘Bow,’ I said uncertainly to the horse. ‘Bow.’

The ears flickered forwards in reply but he did not move.

‘He’s called Snow,’ Robert Gower said. ‘And he’s a horse like any other. Make him do as he’s told. Don’t be shy with him.’

‘Snow,’ I said a little more strongly. ‘Bow!’

A black eye rolled towards me, and I knew, without being able to say why, that he was being naughty like any ordinary horse. Whether he could count better than me or no, he was just being plain awkward. Without thinking twice I slapped him on the shoulder with the tail end of the halter and said, in a voice which left no doubt in his mind:

‘You heard me! Bow, Snow!’

At once he put one forefoot behind the other and lowered right down. I still had to give a little spring to get up on his back, and then I called, ‘Up!’ and he was up on four feet again.

Robert Gower sat on the grass. ‘Take him around the ring,’ he said.

One touch of my heels did it, and the great animal moved forwards in such a smooth walk that it was as if we were gliding. I sat a little firmer and he took it as an order to trot. The great wide back was a steady seat and I jogged a little but hardly slid. I glanced at Robert Gower. He was tending to his pipe. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Canter.’

I sat firmer and squeezed – the lightest of touches and the jarring pace of the trot melted into a canter which blew the hair off my shoulders and brought a delighted smile to my face. Jack came out from behind the screen and smiled at me as I thundered past him. Snow jinked a little at the movement but I stayed on his back as solid as a rock.

‘Pull him up!’ Robert Gower suddenly yelled, and I hauled on the rope, anxious that I had done something wrong. ‘Hold tight!’ he shouted. ‘Up Snow!’

The neck came up and nearly hit me in the face as Snow reared. I could feel myself sliding back and I clung on to the handfuls of mane for dear life as he pawed the air, and then dropped down again.

‘Down you come,’ Robert Gower ordered and I slid down from the horse’s back instantly.

‘Give her the whip,’ he said to Jack, and Jack stepped forward, a smock thrown over his showtime glory, with a long whip in his hand.

‘Stand in front of the horse, as close as you can, nice loud crack on the ground. Shout him “Up!” and then a crack in the air. Like the painting on my wagon,’ Robert ordered.

I flicked the whip lightly on the ground to get the feel. Then I looked at Snow and cracked it as loud as I could. ‘Up!’ I yelled. He was as tall as a tower above me. Up and up he went and his great black hooves were way above my head. I cracked the whip above my head, and even that long thong seemed to come nowhere near him.

‘Down!’ Robert shouted and the horse dropped down in front of me. I stroked his nose. The black came off on my hand and I saw that my hands and face and my skirt were filthy.

‘I should have given you a smock,’ Robert Gower said by way of apology. ‘Never mind.’ He took a great silver watch from his pocket and flicked it open. ‘We’re getting behind time,’ he said. ‘Would you give Jack a hand to get the horses ready for the second show?’