Faced with the challenge of a new horse, he was too interested to be nervous. If he apologized just once it would make a difference. “I’m not a seaside donkey giving rides,” he seemed to say, as he ran out at the upright. The telephonist was a friend of his.
Tomorrow, he thought with a thud of fear, he’d be competing against them. He noticed how thin she’d got, her breeches far too large, her T-shirt falling almost straight down from collar bone to waist. “But my eyes are still red. On he plodded, avoiding rocks and boulders, checking carefully for holes.
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