Learning to ride

Two months later I was an apprentice jockey at Kilnsey Grange Racing Stables on the edge of the Yorkshire Dales. I was more tired than I had ever been in my life. I was much happier, too. My boss was Ms Samantha Kilnsey. Thirty-six years of age and she was tipped to become the champion trainer of the year. She didn’t have a lot of horses. There were only thirty-two, all jumpers.

A racing stable is normally organised so that one person looks after two horses. The person who looks after the horses is called a lad and he or she is responsible for feeding the horse, cleaning the horse and cleaning out its stable. Most lads exercise the horses, too. The lucky ones are apprenticed to become jockeys and to ride in races. I was one of the lucky ones.

The person who is in charge of the lads is called the head lad. The head lad is second in command after the boss. Every racing stable has an experienced jockey who is employed to ride the good horses in the important races and some stables have a second jockey to ride some of the horses in the other races, or when the experienced or top jockey can’t race. Very often, the experienced jockey comes to the stables to teach young horses the job of racing. Sometimes the second stable jockey teaches the horses as well.

Ms Kilnsey (we didn’t call her Sam or Samantha) taught me how to clean a stable – which is called mucking out – and how to clean a horse – which is called grooming, or in some racing stables, strapping. I still had a lot to learn but at least I wasn’t frightened of horses anymore. I was now responsible for a bright black horse called Fine and Dandy – Dandy for short. She was lovely, small, muscular and very fast.

She seemed to know that I still had a lot to learn. Sometimes she would stand on my foot as she moved over or push me over into the straw when I wasn’t looking. She loved knocking her water bucket over my feet just when I had finished filling it. But she was never nasty. She didn’t bite or kick. She gave me a warm welcome when I arrived in her box in the morning, making funny little noises in the back of her throat. Dandy was six and far too good for me to ride yet.

Dan, who I discovered had once been a second jockey, gave me riding lessons every weekend. I shall never forget the first time he put me on a horse’s back. The ground was so far away and every movement pushed me up the horse’s neck. I realised that what looked so very easy from the ground was in fact extremely difficult. Lesson after lesson I worked as hard as I could. Everything was so difficult and Dan told me to do about twenty things all at once. ‘Sit up, sit back, keep your heels down, keep your hands up, you’re going too slowly,’ and then he kept shouting ‘relax, relax!’ If I relaxed, I fell off!

I slowly improved, until I was riding really well. Sometimes I caught Dan looking at me, but I couldn’t quite make out what the expression in his eyes meant. I hoped he was proud of me. At first I didn’t have a horse to look after. I had to help all the other lads. I felt so stupid because I had so much to learn that I did my usual trick of acting cool and smart. A bad move. After five days, Sandy Walters, the head lad, called me into his office and told me calmly but firmly I could choose between watching my manners or acting like I knew everything already. The other lads said I was a pain to be with because I was never friendly and I needed looking after as much as the horses.

The words ‘who cares what a bunch of stable lads think?’ were nearly out of my mouth before I realised I cared what they thought. I especially cared what Dan thought.

I stopped the stupid words just in time. ‘I’m sorry,’ I muttered.

‘Pardon, I didn’t hear that properly – and look at people when you’re talking to them,’ replied Sandy.

I looked up at him and took a deep breath. ‘I’m very sorry,’ I said. And I meant it.

Since then, I had made good progress. The other lads were patient with me now I was trying to be friendly, and because they saw I was willing to work hard. They asked me to have a drink with them to celebrate Beano’s latest win. Ms Kilnsey’s award for trainer of the year was looking like a sure thing and the lad who looked after Beano looked as if he was going to get the stable lad of the year award.

It felt good to be part of a team that was working towards a common goal. Even if it was just a little part. It was also exciting that Sandy Walters said I could soon ride out early in the mornings with the other lads to exercise the horses. He was pleased with me, he said. He said I could ride out on the old horse that I had my riding lessons on.

The following Saturday Beano was running in the last big race of the season and Fine and Dandy had her first important race where the first prize was worth a lot of money. This time I would be playing a bigger part. It was up to me to make sure that Dandy was beautifully groomed and ready for her jockey.

I was going to travel to the race course with Beano and Dandy as well as the travelling head lad, Mac. I was going to make sure that Dandy didn’t worry too much about her first big race. Beano was such an experienced performer he didn’t need me to keep him calm. In fact it would probably be the other way round.

By seven o’clock on Friday evening I had got everything ready. All I had to do now was put everything into the horsebox. I picked up the saddles and bridles I had cleaned, and walked over to where the box was parked. As I opened the cabin door a hand went round my neck. I was pulled inside the cabin and I felt the cold prick of steel against my throat.

‘Don’t say a word, don’t even breathe too loudly.’ My past had caught up with me.

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