THE STORY OF THE FILM International Velvet By Bryan Forbes
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GREAT ROMANTIC FICTION BONUS

S-> THE STORY OF THE FILM

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By Bryan

Forbes I

L

Remember "National Velvet" - a girl and her 9

horse who rode away with the hearts of a ^

million iilmgoers 20 years ago? Now there

is a sequel; teenage-star Tatum O'Neal in

her first leading film role is grown-up ¡

Velvet's orphaned niece Sarah,who rides to

fame and romance in the J

film of the novel opening ^^^^HÉ^ m

soon in Australia. M

Here, in one long jj M

section, a love story . . M $0*

?flB: WI

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The woman with the unexpected

name of Velvet walked along the

edge of the sea at ebb tide under a

sky the texture of greaseproof paper.

She was forty or thereabouts, though

there were few revealing clues in her

face. She took the telegram and

re-read its impersonal message.

"Getting married," it said, "lt's silver

and gold. Wish me luck. Love. Sarah."

Ever since it had been delivered that

morning, Velvet had tried to read

happiness into it, but the words were

coded for her.

She left the beach and took the long

route back to the house. As she turned

the last corner, she saw the old horse

waiting for her in the paddock below the

house. She took a wrinkled apple from

her pocket and fed it to him.

"That's all you love me for now, isn't

it?" she said. Then memory moved in a

flash of colour to a dav many years

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CONTINUED FROM PAGE 121

before. "Did we ever win, Pie?" she

asked. "Did we?"

She walked on, through the slanted

gate, into the walled garden. She could

hear the sound of the typewriter before

she saw John's face on the other side of

the window.

Velvet had long since resigned

herself to the chaos of his study, lt was

all in such contrast to the serious work

he produced: a full-length novel every

eighteen months.

"How's it going?" she asked.

"Three pages I fondly imagined were

Nobel prize standard and which I now

think are rubbish. You're still upset

about Sarah's telegram, aren't you?

Look, it doesn't say she's married. All it

says is 'getting married'."

"I wouldn't mind, I'm happy for her if

she's really set on this whatever-his

name-is-"

"Scott."

"But what I think is hurtful is that she

didn't take the trouble to ring us, she just

sent a telegram, lt's as though we mean

nothing to her - oh, it's different for you'.

You've got your writing, and - " Her

voice broke and she went quickly from

the room.

Facing her on a table in the hallway

was a photograph of Sarah as a child, as

she was all those years ago - a slightly

truculent face, unformed, vulnerable.

I suppose, if I'm honest, we didn't

care for her overmuch at the start, she

thought. No, that's not true. I loved her,

because she was my dead brother's

child, but I didn't like her. In the

beginning, there wasn't much you could

like.

n that first morning all those years

ago, Velvet had stood amongst

the crowd at Heathrow.

From time to time, the crowd would

shift, and chauffeurs would hold up

name cards.

Velvet fingered her own card, with the

name Sarah Brown on it. The last time I

saw her she was only a baby. They were

just leaving for the good, new life in

Arizona, she thought. And now - this!

She had a sudden vivid picture of that

last scene in the desert, Donald's car

leaving the road and the bright splash

against the Arizona landscape as it burst

into flames on impact.

Sarah's Aunt Velvet (Nanette Newman).

Easing her way to the front of the

barrier, she saw a child in the exit

doorway of the Customs Hall, caught a

glimpse of a strained, somewhat surly

face.

"Sarah?" Velvet called. "Are you

Sarah?" The child stood like an island in

the crowd, staring, just staring.

"Hello, darling, I'm so glad you're

down safely at last, lt's so lovely to see

you." Velvet put her arms round the

child and kissed her, but it was like

kissing a statue.

They found the porter with the

baggage and made their way back to

where John was waiting.

During the long drive home, Velvet

made several attempts to coax the

child from her shell. "Uncle John

put up some posters and pictures. I think

you'll like your room," she said.

Sarah said, "He's not my uncle.

You're not married."

"No, that's quite right," Velvet said

carefully. "Well, you can just call him

John if you like."

"Or Mr Seaton," John said. "Which-

ever you prefer."

The next few days were a nightmare.

Any attempt to draw Sarah out proved

exhaustingly abortive.

Arrangements had to be made for her

schooling, and Velvet visited the local

school to prime the headmistress as to

what to expect.

"I'm not going to that school," Sarah

said, when Velvet went into her room

that first morning.

"Oh, you'll like it once you've got

used to it and made some friends. Come

on, up you get."

"If you make me go to school, I'll run

away," she said.

"That's just silly. Where would you

run to?"

"Home." For the first time Sarah's

face mirrored what she was feeling.

Tears ran down her cheeks, and Velvet

was unexpectedly touched.

"You're not going to run away,

darling. I won't let you, because I love

you and this is your home now."

She sat down on the side of the bed

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Sarah, uprooted from her old life,

drags her way home from school.

and Sarah leaned into her and gradually

the tears subsided. Velvet got her

dressed in the school uniform, and they

went down to breakfast as though

nothing had happened.

At the school, Sarah was the object of

much curiosity from the local children.

During the mid-morning break, Sarah

was singled out by a group of bullies, led

by a boy called Alan Wilson.

"Hey," he said. "We've got a present

for you. From America." He pushed a

flat tobacco tin toward her, and removed

the lid to reveal what appeared to be a

blood-stained, severed human finger.

lt was an old schoolboy trick,

achieved by making a hole in the bottom

of the tin, through which the prankster

pushed his middle finger. Suitably

daubed with red ink and bedded on

cotton wool, it produced a revolting and

authentic mutilation.

"Dead Gl's finger," Wilson said with

relish. "All the way from Vietnam."

Sarah turned and ran, climbing the

school fence and disappearing across

the field on the other side.

She was not found until nightfall, a

county-wide police search having been

set in motion as soon as her absence

had been reported. She was picked up

on a main road attempting to hitchhike,

having covered some ten miles across

country.

Breakfast next morning was strained.

"Are there some nice boys and girls

in your class?" John asked. Sarah shook

her head. "There must be ¿orne. Did

they talk to you yesterday?" Again the

shake of the head. "No? Why was that?"

"I didn't talk to them."

"Frightened, were you? That why you

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CONTINUED FROM PAGE 123

ran away? Tell me. I might be able to

help."

"He had a dead finger."

"A what? Who?"

"This boy. He had a dead finger. In a

tin."

"I don't suppose it was a real dead

finger," John said.

"Yes, it was."

"I expect it was just a joke," Velvet

soothed. "They always play jokes the

first day, but it's never so bad after that. I

bet you come home tonight and say

you've got a friend."

"I don't want any friends." Sarah got

up and ran from the table.

It was quiet in the house, yet some-

thing woke Velvet. She sat up, a

premonition of danger making her

skin clammy. She padded up to Sarah's

door. The room was empty. She rushed

back to her own room, calling "John!

Wake up! Sarah's gone again. You ring

the police, and I'll get the car out."

When she got under way, her headlights

bounced off mist, alternating with clear

stretches.

She accelerated too quickly, coming

into a misted area dangerously fast and

the car left the road, careering onto the

grass verge. Breaking to a halt, she got

out and walked down the road, calling

Sarah's name.

Then she heard the sound of a horse

galloping. As she listened intently, trying

to track the sound to its source, a

section of mist shifted and on a nearby

hill she glimpsed the black outline of a

horse and rider.

She ran toward it, running up the

hillside. When she could see the horse

and rider plainly, relief fought with

anger, the anger taking over as she

recognised the horse as The Pie. Sarah

was astride him, bareback, crouched

low, riding as once, long ago, she

herself had ridden.

"Sarah!" she screamed. "Sarah!"

The child saw her then and the old

horse, sensing the familiar, slowed

down. Velvet ran the last few yards and

grabbed the bridle. "Get off!"

Sarah slid from the horse.

"You stupid little idiot, what d'you

think you're doing?"

"Riding."

The slap of Velvet's hand across her

cheek was like a pistol shot, and the old

horse backed off.

"Don't you cheek me. You don't ever

ride my horse without my permission,

you understand?"

"What's so special about him?"

Sarah stood her ground, blinking away

the tears. "Just because he won some

old race a hundred years ago."

"Now you listen to me!" Velvet took

her by the shoulders. "I've just about

had enough of you! I'm sorry for you,

very sorry, because I know you're

unhappy and you don't want to be here,

but that doesn't give you the right to

make everybody else's life a misery -"

She broke off as they heard the

approaching police car bumping over

the grass at the bottom of the hill.

"That's because of you," Velvet said,

"and that's the second time ip forty

eight hours. The police have more to do

than looking for silly little girls. And if you

keep running away, they'll send you to a

special school and then you'll really

have something to be unhappy about

. . . What?"

"I didn't run away this time."

"Well, how were we to know? You just

do as you're told from now on and learn

to live with it." Velvet moved down the

hill toward the police car. "George, I'm

sorry, lt was a mistake this time and I

panicked."

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Sarah and Arizona Pie - the magnificent bay colt that changes her life.

When he had left, Velvet walked past

the motionless child to where the old

horse was grazing. She stroked his

strong neck, some of his calm passed to

her, and she was honest enough to

recognise and acknowledge the true

source of her previous anger.

I was jealous of her, she thought. She

made me think of things I thought I'd

forgotten, made me think of the day I

rode The Pie into history at Aintree.

We won the Grand National, he and I,

and I was hardly older than Sarah. Now

it's all behind me, it's over. But for her

it's just beginning.

The next day Velvet decided on a

change of tactics. She went to meet

Sarah on her way home from school.

The child had taken the long way round,

going down along the beach, and Velvet

noted that she was still alone, still

without friends, trailing her school

satchel in the wet sand, a forlorn and

vulnerable figure.

"I think old Pie rather enjoyed his

jaunt with you," Velvet said after a while.

"Where did you learn to ride?"

"At home."

"Did you have a horse of your own?"

"No."

"I'll let you in on a secret. Pie's going

to relive a bit of his past in a few weeks'

time. A very special occasion, so I have

to get him really well groomed and

smart. Would you like to help me?"

"What's it for?"

"Ah, that's the big secret. We'll share

looking after him. You see, the reason I

was so cross with you yesterday - I was

scared. Well, you can't get scared if you

don't care about somebody, and I do

care about you. I need you, just like your

Mummy and Daddy needed you."

"They didn't," Sarah said abruptly.

"Oh, of course they did."

"They didn't. They didn't need any-

body else. I was always in the way, that's

why they always left me."

"Left you? Oh, Sarah darling, I'm sure

that's not true."

"lt is. You didn't know them. He

wasn't your father, he was just your

brother."

She walked quickly away.

In the weeks that followed, Velvet

never referred to Sarah's blurted state-

ment. She also concealed, despite

questioning from Sarah, the secret

concerning The Pie.

The annual International Show Jum-

ping Championships were to take place

in London a week or so before Christ-

mas, and the organizers had invited her

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CONTINUED FROM PAGE 127

to be their special guest of honour to

mark The Pie's retirement.

On the actual day, with the secret still

intact, Velvet went on ahead with Pie in

the horsebox. Later, John drove up with

Sarah, and when they arrived at the

arena, they were shown into reserved

seats in the front row.

The preliminary rounds completed,

the house lights were lowered and a

single arc light picked out the Master of

Ceremonies in the centre of the arena.

He carried a hand microphone and his

voice was amplified through the loud-

speakers.

"My Lords, ladies and gentlemen.

Before the final events I have a very

special ceremony to perform."

"Oh, it's a pity Aunty Velvet's going to

miss it all," Sarah said, and John

realized that she still didn't suspect.

"There are some of us present

tonight," the voice boomed, "who will

remember the year when the Grand

National was won by a fourteen-year-old

girl . . ."

John watched Sarah closely, but the

penny had still to drop.

"lt was cause for celebration," the

Master of Ceremonies continued, "and

alas, cause also for disappointment,

because the young lady was disqualified

under the rules. But rules or no rules,

she and her equally remarkable horse

The Pie were first past the post on that

memorable occasion . . ."

Sarah gave a shriek of excitement.

"lt's her, isn't it? lt's Velvet and The

Pie? That was the secret." John

nodded "That was it."

"Tonight we are going to pay tribute

to Velvet Brown - 'National Velvet' as

she was immediately nicknamed - pay

tribute to her and to the horse she rode,

for the time has come when The Pie is to

be retired from stud. My Lords, ladies

and gentlemen, I ask you to show your

appreciation as National Velvet leads

The Pie on a last lap of honour."

Arc lights swirled toward the tented

entrance, picking out Velvet and The Pie

as she led him into the arena. The old

horse was garlanded with flowers, his

rug bearing the colours Velvet had worn

on the day of their triumph. His ears

came up as he sensed the occasion and

he walked proudly round the edge of the

arena, the applause building.

Sarah was still clapping when Velvet

had left the arena, and later, on their

return journey home, the excitement still

lingered.

"You did win really, didn't you?"

"Yes," Velvet said. "I suppose I did in

a way ... we did, that is. lt was all The

Pie, really."

"Will there ever be another horse like

him?"

"There might. You never know, there

just might be."

After that night, life with Sarah

became easier. She was no longer the

surly rebel. She settled down at school,

though still disinclined to make friends,

and she drew closer to Velvet and John,

accepting them as surrogate parents.

Her great obsession was the old

horse, and she spent long hours with

him in his winter stable.

There was a bay mare in foal at a

nearby farm, the last mare to be sired by

The Pie. The foaling was imminent and

late one cold, wet March night the

farmer telephoned.

"I reckon this is it," he told Velvet.

"So if you want to show your young lady

what it's all about, you'd best come at

once."

Enjoying the excitement, Sarah made

no objection to being roused up in the

middle of the night.

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Christopher Plummer plays Sarah's Uncle John who has to struggle to raise

the money so that Sarah can compete in the big international events.

Although she had questioned Velvet

about the process of birth, nothing had

prepared Sarah for the actual event.

"Nice little colt," the farmer said. "A

pretty little bay colt."

Velvet and Sarah stayed on to watch

until the farmer felt it wise for them to

withdraw.

"Could you call a horse Arizona Pie?"

Sarah asked.

"If you wanted to," Velvet replied.

"That's what I'd call him. I expect

he'd be very expensive, wouldn't he?

Even if the man wanted to sell him."

"Oh yes, he would."

Ever since the birth of the foal there

had been only one topic of conversation

with Sarah. She visited the farm every

spare moment she had.

On her return from school one

afternoon she went to John's study.

"You busy?" she asked.

"No, I wouldn't say so. As a matter of

fact I'm suffering from Writers' Block."

"Oh! ls it painful? Can I get you an

aspirin?"

"I don't somehow think an aspirin

would cure it. What've you been up to?"

1 Trothing much. I wondered . . .

|VI Are there any jobs you'd like

mm* X done? I'm trying to earn some

extra pocket money, you see. Could I

help you with your writer's thing, your

block?"

"Go away and think of a story -

could you do that?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Then write it down and bring it to

me. How's that?"

"Terrific. Thanks, Uncle John."

From then on, she began writing.

Her earnings were deposited in a tin

box and at last the day came when she

judged she had saved enough. She ran

all the way to the farm.

"I think I've got enough." She took

the lid off the tin and showed the

contents to the farmer. She could see he

was impressed. "So I've come to buy the

foal, ls it enough?"

"Oh, I'd say that's enough, yes." He

hesitated, looking away. "Or it would

have been, like. But he's been sold, you

see."

"Sold?"

"Aye. Someone come and bought

him only yesterday."

For a moment, his face swam away

from Sarah. "But they can't!"

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CONTINUED FROM PAGE 129

"Yes, it's unfortunate, like. But I

didn't know you were so keen. I had to

take the first definite offer, you see."

"Well, thank you." She hurried away,

and as soon as she was safely out of

sight she allowed herself to cry.

John was waiting for her as she

approached the house. "Velvet was

looking for you," he said. "She's in the

garden, picking blackberries."

"Hello, darling," Velvet called. "You

seem depressed." Sarah didn't answer.

"Go and see old Pie. He'll cheer you

up."

Sarah wandered off, but without

enthusiasm. The Pie was too great a

reminder of her own loss. There was a

horse on the skyline, but it seemed too

small to be Pie. She stared hard.

Although it definitely wasn't Pie, it

seemed familiar.

Then as she stared the horse raised

its head, and suddenly the pain she had

been carrying drained from her. lt was

the foal, her foal! She spun around to be

confronted by the sight of Velvet and

John hugging each other in shared

delight.

"lt is, isn't it?" she screamed. "My

foal! You bought him, it was you all the

time."

She did not hear their reply, because

she was running, jumping the ditch, then

over the barbed wire fence, and running

on up the hill. And the foal, hearing her

cries, loped toward her, then broke into

a trot, ears up.

They met in the middle of the field like

lovers. She flung her arms round his

neck, pressing her face into him as his

head came round to nose her.

The foal was duly christened Arizona

Pie, his pedigree framed and placed

in position of honour in Sarah's

room.

She had only one ambition, and she

pursued it unremittingly. Arizona had to

be the best horse in the world.

She had natural talent for riding, her

only fault - as Velvet was quick to see

- being that supreme confidence of the

young that cannot be challenged by the

experience of others.

Sarah and Arizona went from

strength to strength. Soon she was

riding him at local gymkhanas, at small

shows in the neighbourhood, then in

Sarah and Arizona Pie become a team.

jumping competitions farther afield.

As the years passed, her room

became decorated with cups and roset-

tes as she progressed from junior events

to more demanding trials. She herself at

sixteen was maturing into beauty, and

John's pride in her equalled Velvet's.

He was seldom prepared to leave his

desk and go out into the open to witness

her triumphs, but he agreed to accom-

pany her and Velvet to a competition

which Sarah set great store by.

A succession of young hopefuls

completed the course. Then even as

Sarah and Arizona took the first fence,

John could not help noticing that she

rode differently from the others. She

made it all look effortless, keeping

Arizona going smoothly and easily, and

the young horse made light work of the

big fences.

He was preparing to applaud wildly at

what he was sure was going to be a

faultless round when, to his horror and

amazement, at the last fence Arizona

brought down two poles.

They joined the crowd in front of the

judges' tent to watch the presentation of

the awards, then went to the saddling

enclosure to find Sarah.

"Well done, darling," Velvet said.

"Pity about that last fence."

"I so wanted to win today," Sarah

said. "So he'd notice me."

"Who?" John said, with a glance at

some admiring youths hovering nearby.

"Captain Johnson." She indicated a

middle-aged man standing with the

judges. "You know who he is, don't you?

He trains the British Olympic team. I wish

I'd done better."

The following summer was the most

successful yet for Sarah and Arizona.

They had now graduated to the top

competitions.

Coming home from school one day,

Sarah suddenly ran toward the house,

narrowly missing being run over by the

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post van. "Anything for me?" she

shouted, as she entered the hallway.

"Yes, there is. You were obviously

expecting something." John held out an

envelope.

"You open it."

"Dear Miss Brown," he read aloud. "I

am writing on behalf of the Combined

Training Selection Committee to inquire

if you and your horse Arizona Pie are

available to train as possibles for the

British team that will compete at the

Ledyard Three-Day Event in America

this autumn.

"If you are able to accept this

invitation I would ask that you and your

horse arrive at the Windsor Training

Establishment on the twentieth of this

month for further evaluation. Yours

sincerely, J. R. Johnson."

He looked up from the letter. "What's

all this? What, may I ask, is Ledyard?"

"lt's just about the most important

Three-Day Event this side of the Olym-

pics, that's all."

Sarah went on the appointed day to

the Training Establishment in

Windsor Great Park where the

British Equestrian Team has traditionally

found a home.

She put Arizona through his paces in

front of the selection committee.

The trial lasted perhaps twenty

minutes and after it Captain Johnson

conferred with his colleagues.

She brought Arizona back to him and

waited for the verdict.

"Tell me," Johnson said, "what made

you think you were good enough for

us?"

"I've won prizes," she said.

"Have you? What for?"

"Riding."

"Well, we wouldn't exactly call it

riding, would we? Staying on a horse,

perhaps. And where did you learn what

you call riding?"

"In Arizona."

"Well, that explains it. Of course, you

realize they don't admit cowboys to the

Olympics. I will say one thing though."

He walked round Arizona, examining

him with a practised eye. "You've

somehow managed to get yourself a

promising horse.

"But it's your promise we're talking

about, isn't it? We have to go back to the

beginning, start from scratch. Are your

parents rich?"

"My parents are dead."

"Oh. Sorry about that. Who looks

after you then?"

"My aunt."

"ls she well heeled?"

"I don't know."

"Betterfind out, hadn't you? This isn't

a cheap sport. So you'd better go home

and have a chat with your aunt, then ring

me and tell me when you can start."

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CONTINUED FROM PAGE 131

For a moment, she didn't dare speak,

convinced that she had misheard him.

"When - I can start?" she finally

managed.

"Yes, isn't that what I said?"

Sarah flung her arms round Arizona's

neck. "Did you hear that? He's going to

take us!"

Back at home, they celebrated her

news over dinner. But then came the

sober reckoning when Johnson's blunt

words about costs had to be faced.

Since The Pie had been retired from

stud, Velvet had very little independent

income, and the whole burden fell on

John.

"I'm sorry," Sarah said to John as

she kissed him goodnight.

"What're you sorry about?"

"Giving you all this worry."

"I'm not worried, I'm just bankrupt.

Only kidding. Go to bed and sleep well."

But when she had gone, he turned to

Velvet, asking soberly, "How much are

we talking about, do you think?"

"Probably a few thousand by the time

we're through."

"Ah well, then I'll just have to think of

something brilliant, won't I? You go to

bed. I want to think."

In the following weeks he worked

solidly, answering Velvet's inquiries as

to progress with good humour.

"What sort of book is this?" she

asked.

"Oh, different. A novel."

"I thought you'd had novels."

"Well, I had a good idea and thought

I'd follow it through."

He went to London to have lunch with

his publisher, and later he remarked to

Velvet, "Sarah had better start pack-

ing."

"How terrific! Why didn't you tell me

at once? You are the most extraordinary

character."

The real surprise was still to come.

One day Velvet glanced at a pile of

manuscript on John's desk, and the title

page caught her eye: "Lust Valley" by

Jack Delavie.

"Jack Delavie?" Velvet frowned. "I

don't know any Jack Dela -" She gave

a little cry. "lt's you, isn't it?"

"Do you like the style? You see, Jack

Delavie doesn't have my artistic

scruples. He's only in it for the money."

Whatever preconceived notions

Sarah might have had about

Captain Johnson's establish-

ment were immediately shattered.

She found there were only eight in the

class, three other girls and four men.

Beth, the senior of the girls, seemed an

automatic choice from the start. She had

an international reputation and a great

horse. Roger, the team captain from the

last Olympics, was the oldest of the men.

He said little and kept himself to himself.

The other two girls and three men

were friendly enough, but behind the

welcoming smiles and the genuine

advice there was no mistaking the

rivalry.

In her letters home, Sarah revealed

little of her real feelings, and never

mentioned her loneliness, her sense of

being isolated, separate from the rest of

the group.

As training progressed they spent

more and more time in Windsor Great

Park, moving from single jumps to

simulated cross-country courses. John-

son never relaxed. He imposed his

standards rigidly.

But he could surprise them by

suddenly showing another side of his

character. After a particularly gruelling

session, when they had been closely

observed by other members of the

Selection Committee, Johnson called

them together for what they imagined

was to be a sarcastic post-mortem.

"There's hope," he said. "You

weren't brilliant this morning, but you

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CONTINUED FROM PAGE 134

weren't entirely appalling. And just to

prove to you what a basically soft-

hearted character I am, I'm cancelling

class tomorrow. So off you go. Except I

want a word with you, young lady."

He crooked a finger in Sarah's

direction, then waited until the others

had dispersed.

"Don't look so scared. Now, whatever

else, I'll never tell you anything but the

truth. So, let's start with the good news.

You've worked very hard and you've

made extraordinary progress. Before

you're through you'll ride well enough to

make anybody's team."

"Thank you."

"But the thing that worries me about

you has nothing to do with riding. Do

you know what I'm talking about?"

Sarah shook her head.

"lt has to do with your personality.

You're too preoccupied with yourself.

Nobody can play this game on a

hooray-for-me-to-hell-with-you basis.

You need the team, they need you."

Sarah thought about what he had

said on the journey home, weighing

the compliment against the criti-

cism.

Velvet wasn't in when she arrived,

and she explained to John that Johnson

had given them a day off.

"His loss is our gain. How's it going?"

"OK, I guess. Next week's the big

thing. They make the selection then."

"You depressed about something?"

he asked. "You sound a bit down. Are

you?"

"Yes and no . . . Can I ask you

something?"

"Of course you can. What's bother-

ing you?"

"I don't understand what makes me

tick. See, I know what I'm doing wrong,

but I can't seem to do anything about it."

"What are you doing wrong?"

"I don't make friends. At first I never

wanted friends. Arizona was enough.

And now that I do, I don't know how to

go about it."

"Well now. . . How shall I put it? You

can't wake up one morning and say,

'Today I'm going to make a couple of

friends.' lt's like falling in love in a way.

Sometimes it's there all the time and you

just haven't seen it. Look, to tell you the

truth, I don't know. But I can tell you that

it will happen."

The day of reckoning had arrived.

The eight riders were assembled in the

indoor ring to hear Johnson's verdict.

Johnson suddenly appeared in the

doorway and began talking at once.

"I'll make this as quick and painless

as possible. So the team for Ledyard. lt

was a difficult decision because natural-

ly under my tutelage you're all brilliant.

The final selection is Beth . . . Howard

. . . Mike . . . and Roger."

He paused then looked at Sarah.

"Sarah will be the reserve."

lt was less than she had hoped for,

but more than she had feared. I wasn't

rejected, she thought.

They left for America five days before

the Ledyard Event was due to start.

As the horses were loaded into the

cargo jet, Sarah was amazed by the

efficiency of it all and the way Arizona

behaved. He allowed himself to be led

into the special horsebox without any

fuss, in contrast to Roger's horse, Gold

Dust, who required a great deal of

persuading.

The boxes were fork-lifted to the

height of the cargo door and then rolled

into position inside the cabin. They

occupied most of the cargo area, the

passengers being seated to the rear of

the aircraft and attended by a single

stewardess.

In addition to the five riders and

Johnson, the official party included

several grooms and the team vet, Tim.

The grooms occupied special compart-

ments in the horseboxes in order to

reassure their charges. The horses

themselves wore protective headgear.

Once the seat belt sign had been

switched off, Johnson went forward to

the cockpit to speak to the aircraft

Captain. "We going to have a smooth

trip?" he asked.

"Should do. Could be some clear-air

turbulence. Just a bit."

Back in the passenger cabin, Tim had

left his seat to check that all the horses

were all right. Arizona seemed totally

unconcerned in his alien surroundings

and was eating happily. Only Roger's

Gold Dust seemed unduly restless. Tim

had given him a mild tranquillizer before

take-off, but it seemed to have had little

effect.

"Just behave yourself, do you hear?"

Roger was saying, stroking the horse's

neck with a soothing rhythm. "You've

got a first-class ticket and they've served

your meal before mine."

No sooner had the team got their

trays than the plane gave a sudden

lurch.

In the cockpit Johnson peered

through the windscreen at the apparent-

ly calm sky ahead, "ls that the clear-air

stuff you mentioned?"

"Yes." The Captain made an adjust-

ment to some controls.

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CONTINUED FROM PAGE 137

Johnson pulled open the cockpit

door and stumbled to the rear. Some of

the grooms were looking anxious. Roger

had returned to Gold Dust, who was

reacting very badly to the turbulence.

"I've never known him like this," he

said as Johnson came alongside the

box.

"I'll get Tim," Johnson said, but the

vet had anticipated him.

"I don't want to give him another shot

so soon after the first," he said.

Beth had moved next to Sarah.

"What happens if any of the horses

get really frightened?" Sarah asked.

"Oh, Tim'll take care of them," Beth

said, concealing her own mounting

anxiety. "He's marvellous." As she

spoke, the plane seemed to drop

straight down for several seconds, and

Sarah gripped her arm instinctively.

Then Gold Dust kicked violently

against the rear panel of his box. They

heard one of the grooms shout, and

Howard and Mike slipped their seat belts

and slithered forward to investigate.

lt all became a nightmare to Sarah.

She could see Roger, Tim, and Johnson

struggling with Gold Dust who was

rearing in his stall. His protective

headgear - a layer of foam rubber - had

worked loose, and as he reared, his

head thudded against the ceiling of the

fuselage.

Again he kicked back and Sarah saw

the metal retaining bolts holding the

locking bars in position suddenly jump

out. She screamed.

Tim struggled back to his seat to get

his case of instruments.

"You'll have to give him another

shot," Johnson shouted.

"I know, but it's dicey," Tim said. "If |

give him the shot he needs, there's the

chance I'll kill him. But if it's not big

enough, he'll kick the plane to pieces. I'll

try and judge it."

"I'll go forward and have another

word with the Captain." Johnson went

forward. Tim filled a hypodermic.

He got the needle into the horse, but

before he could empty the syringe Gold

Dust reared violently, knocking him off

balance.

Now the horse went mad, lashing

his hind legs against the rear of

the box, frenzy increasing his

strength. The metal locking bar flew

across the passenger compartment,

narrowly missing the terrified stew-

ardess.

The Captain returned with Johnson.

Gold Dust had shattered the rear of the

box, and although Roger and Tim still

had hold of him it was obvious that they

were losing the battle.

As with the Captain of a ship, the

Captain of an aircraft has the ultimate

decision in any emergency. A mad horse

in a jet at thirty thousand feet is more

dangerous than a hijacker.

"I'm sorry," the Captain shouted

above the noise, "but you'll have to

destroy that horse. And do it quickly

before the rest of them go berserk. I'm

sorry, but there it is." He left them.

While Johnson and Roger struggled

together, Tim reached into his case.

"What are they going to do?" Sarah

cried.

"Don't watch." Beth put her arms

round the younger girl, "lt's soon over,

and it doesn't hurt."

As Tim raised the pistol, Roger held

on as tightly as he could, talking all the

time, talking for the last time, to the

horse he loved. Only at the final moment

did he turn his head away. Then Gold

Dust was suddenly silent and the halter

rope went limp.

Roger slumped against the side of the

cabin and tears poured down his face,

the sort of tears grown men give way to

when grief is absolute.

lt was a sombre arrival at Boston

airport. Word of the tragedy had been

radioed ahead and there was a sympa-

thetic gathering of riders from opposing

teams to greet them. As the British team

got into the waiting cars, two members

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CONTINUED FROM PAGE 138

of the American team came up to

express their sympathy.

"Whose horse was it?" one of them

asked.

"Roger Peacock's," Beth said.

"Gold Dust? Gee, that's terrible.

That's always been my nightmare. Will

you tell him how sorry I am? I don't want

to bother him myself, not right now."

He stared past Beth to Sarah, then

stood back as Johnson gave the signal

for the cars to move off.

The Ledyard International Horse

Trials are unique, being held on a

private farm in South Hamilton,

Massachusetts and attract horses and

riders from most sporting nations.

A welcoming dinner party had been

arranged for the visiting teams, but

Johnson felt he could not accept.

He told his team. "I don't want to

make any hasty decisions, but obviously

first thing in the morning we must sort

things out. You girls OK?"

Beth and Sarah nodded.

"Good. I'll say goodnight then. Take

care of yourselves."

"Do you think I'll get to ride?" Sarah

asked, when she and Beth were alone in

their room.

"No idea. We'll know soon enough."

"That boy who spoke to you at the

airport . . ."

"Scott Saunders, you mean?"

"ls that Scott Saunders? He's the

American team captain."

"Yes, that's right."

"He's good, isn't he?"

"He's very good." Beth switched off

her light, but Sarah had never felt less

like sleep. She was consumed with the

feeling that her life was about to change.

Next morning, Johnson's manner

was brusque again.

"There's no sense in dwelling on

yesterday's tragedy," he said. "Roger,

everybody knows what you're feeling

and of course we feel for you, but we've

come a long way and you've all worked

too hard to let this destroy our chances.

So this is what I've decided. You'll ride

Magic, Roger, but you'll go second

instead of last."

Roger nodded. "That makes sense."

"Sarah," Johnson continued, "I'm

entering you as an individual competitor.

It'll give you the feel of an international

competition without the responsibility of

worrying about the team. Yes, Mike?"

"Tim thinks there's some doubt about

Magic. I thought he'd told you."

"No . . . he's had no chance. I've

been with the Committee since break-

fast. Let's go and see."

They all went to the stables, to be

greeted by a gloomy Tim.

"Johnny, I'm sorry, but it's not good

news. He's slipped his stifle-joint. You

see for yourself, he can hardly bear to

put any weight on it."

Johnson bent and examined the

horse. "Any chance at all?"

"In three days? No way."

"What now, Johnny?" Roger asked.

"You'll just have to ride Arizona,"

Johnson said. "You've got three days to

get used to him. Let's hope the jinx stops

here. Get on with it."

Sarah stepped forward as Johnson

was about to leave.

"Could I say something, please?"

"If it's to the point, yes. If it's

personal, no."

"lt's just that nobody but me has ever

ridden Arizona. I don't know how he'd

go for someone else."

Johnson stared through her. "He's a

team horse and Roger is our most

experienced rider."

"So I don't get to ride at all?"

"Exactly. Anything else?"

Sarah shook her head. Johnson

turned and left. Mike put an arm round

Sarah's shoulders, but she was beyond

comfort.

A party had been arranged for that

evening, an informal gathering to help

relax the competitors.

"Why don't you change your mind

and come?" Beth said to Sarah.

"No, thanks all the same. I know I'm

being dreary, so don't take any notice.

Just go and enjoy it."

Sarah sat on in her room, and after a

while she wandered off to the

stables. Arizona whickered softly at

her approach, and she thought how

smart he looked in his new rug with the

Union Jack on it.

"Now just because I'm not going to

be with you," she said, "I don't want any

acting up. You just go out there with

Roger and show them how brilliant you

are."

"Why aren't you at the party?" a voice

said behind her, and she turned quickly.

Johnson had come into the stables.

"No special reason. I just thought I'd

look in on Arizona."

"I don't suppose you liked the deci-

sion I made overmuch."

"You did what you thought best."

"Best for the team . . . and best for

you too, though I don't expect you to

believe that right now."

"No, I don't," Sarah said honestly.

"Oh, you ride Arizona better than

Roger, no doubt about it. You'll always

ride him better than anyone else be

none Help

Sarah falls in love with Scott, the

captain of the US Olympic team.

cause he's your horse. But Roger's got

two things going for him that you

haven't. Can you tell me what they are?"

"Experience?"

"Judgment, really. Knowing how fast

you can push a green horse over a

strange course and stili finish. But as

well, Roger has the ability to sacrifice his

own vanity for the good of the team, and

that's saying a lot."

Sarah took this in, then some of her

resentment surfaced again. "I still don't

get it. How can he help the team more if

he gets less out of Arizona than I

could?"

"Because Roger will finish on him.

Maybe not brilliantly, but he'll get round

and we'll have a team score. You might

get round faster, but then you might not

get round at all."

"lt still seems pretty unfair."

"Well, it's a pretty unfair process all

round, isn't it, growing up? Everybody

thinks they know better than you. But

you will ride for me one day, dear Sarah,

I promise you that. And you'll not only

ride for me, but the greater glory of the

sport and the honour of the team."

He patted Arizona, then turned back

to Sarah.

"You see, I used to be a bit like you, a

bit of a grandstander, only nobody took

the trouble to tell me, as I'm trying to tell

you, that the sun didn't actually shine

out of me. I wish they had, it might have

saved me a lot of bother. Well, lecture

over." He held out his hand.

"Now, if you'd like to put on a party

frock, you can take me to the dance. I

won't be the youngest you'll dance with,

To page 144

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jntemôttonùl Ueloet

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 143

but I'll certainly be the safest. What

d'you say, cowboy?"

Sarah hesitated a second, then took

his hand.

Having got to the dance, she enjoyed

it. There was a good band, and by the

time she and Johnson arrived everything

was swinging. Johnson too had a certain

flamboyant confidence in his dancing.

Then a young man wearing the Ameri-

can team blazer cut in.

"Come on, Johnny, you can't mono-

polize the talent all night," he said, and

Sarah turned to find herself facing Scott

Saunders.

"Make one false move with her,"

Johnson said, "and you'll never ride

again."

"Well, that was easier than I expec-

ted," Scott said, as he and Sarah went

out on to the floor. "I'm Scott Saunders,

and you're Sarah, the British secret

weapon."

"So secret," Sarah said, "I'm not

even riding. Roger's got my horse."

"That isn't a British accent."

"No, it's Arizona."

"You defected, huh?"

"I escaped," she said, smiling.

The weather wasn't kind to Ledyard.

For most of the three days it rained

solidly, turning the Dressage rings and

the cross-country course into a dan-

gerous quagmire.

Roger and Arizona didn't do well in

the Dressage, mostly because Arizona

was impatient with its disciplines. Beth

and Howard and Mike fared better, but

by the end of the first day the British

team was well down the list.

It rained spasmodically throughout

the second day when the

cross-country was staged, and there

were many spills and a large number of

eliminations. Roger and Arizona com-

pleted the course without mishap. The

other three also got round, and by the

end of the second day the team had

moved up into fifth place.

On the last day conditions improved.

The sun shone but then the rain started

again. The American team improved the

lead they held.

The British team ended up in third

place.

Sarah came away from Ledyard with

a greater respect for the dangers of the

sport and enhanced understanding of

what Johnson had tried to teach her.

Back at home, Sarah at first was

restless and on edge, finding that she

missed the companionship and the

challenge of being with the team.

She threw herself into training, taking

note of the many tips Velvet gave her,

and her dedication was rewarded. She

and Arizona had a brilliant season.

Tipped then as being on the short list

for the British team for the next Olym-

pics, she awaited the postman's daily

visit with crossed fingers, and willed the

telephone to ring.

The call, when it came, was typical of

Johnson. "How's that horse of yours?"

"He's fine. Never better."

"Just as well because he's been

picked for the Olympics. And since we

want to take your horse, I suppose we'd

better take you too. How does that

sound?"

"lt sounds fantastic!"

"Good. Well, you'll get the official

letter tomorrow."

"Has Beth been chosen too?"

"Yes, the old gang in fact. Beth,

Roger, Mike, Howard and you. Let's

hope we have better luck than Ledyard."

They went back to the training

none Help

Sarah watches sadly as another

team member rides Arizona Pie.

establishment at Windsor for the final

weeks before leaving, and Johnson's

demanding Ledyard programme was

nothing compared to the Olympic

preparations.

These Games were being held in a

mid-European country behind the Iron

Curtain.

The British equestrian contingent left

Heathrow Airport in time to become

acclimatized to the foreign location. All

the media were out in force and because

at eighteen she was the youngest

competitor, particular attention was paid

to Sarah.

"How do you feel being the baby of

the team?" a television interviewer

asked her.

"Sort of not here," Sarah said.

"Of course, riding is in your blood,

isn't it? Didn't I see your famous aunt

here?"

"Yes, she's here."

"Sarah's aunt is Velvet Brown," the

interviewer explained. "Well, you know

what they called your aunt when she

won the Grand National. National Velvet.

Maybe we should start calling you

International Velvet?"

"Bit early for that," Sarah said.

"Well, I'm sure all our viewers join me

in wishing you and the rest of the British

team every success."

"Thank you," Sarah escaped thank-

fully and made her way back to where

Velvet and John were waiting in the

departure lounge. "I wish you were

coming too."

"You don't wish it any more than us,"

Velvet said.

But the cost had been beyond them.

She and John had spent their last penny

on ensuring that Sarah had everything

she needed.

Flags flew from Olympic village

flagpoles, and the directional signs were

written in a score of languages. Every-

body was very friendly.

The British team were plunged im-

mediately into their final training sche-

dule. Although the horses themselves

never see any of the jumps before the

event, the riders are allowed to walk the

course and take stock of the problems

they have to face. Johnson led his team

out the moment permission was given.

"Well," he said on their return,

"whatever the outcome, win or lose, the

fact is you all made it here, and that's a

prize in itself. You know I'm not given to

sentimental outbursts, but I'm proud of

you all."

He seemed embarrassed by even

this muted compliment, as they all

agreed when he left them. They

knew that he had still to pick the final

team and whatever their secret hopes,

they all avoided the subject.

The afternoon before the opening of

the Games, Sarah was alone in the room

she and Beth shared in one of the

dormitory buildings. She was studying

the book of rules yet again when Beth

came in.

"Johnson's announcing the team at

six o'clock, but he told me first, which

was nice of him." There was a strange

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(3nfemâfionâ/c Velod

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 145

note in Beth's voice, and Sarah waited.

"You're riding, I'm not."

lt was a difficult moment. Sarah's

natural elation fought with sympathy.

"Oh, Beth, I'm sorry. Really. I'm not

just saying it."

"Had to be somebody. You don't

have to feel badly. I'm not crying." Her

face suddenly dissolved. "Yes, I am, but

don't take any notice. Don't say anything

nice. Just leave me."

Sarah went out quietly, but the

moment she was down in the com-

pound, she began running through the

crowds of athletes, not knowing or

caring where she was going, just

running for sheer joy. And she ran

straight into the arms of Scott Saunders.

"Look who's here!" he said. "Miss

Brown from Cave Creek. Or maybe

should I say Miss International Velvet

Brown. Did you see the papers?"

"Yeah." Sarah grimaced. "Nausea-

ting."

"I thought it was cute. Well, you look

happy."

"I am, I am! I got chosen. I'm riding

this time."

"Congratulations! Can I buy you a

drink to celebrate? Though of course

you realize I shouldn't fraternize with the

enemy. But I guess this is a special

occasion."

"Everything's special, everything's

perfect!"

"Careful! For all you know, I might

spike your drink." He took her arm as

they threaded their way through the

crowd.

It rained all that night, so that

conditions for the Dressage Test

were likely to be heavy.

"And Dressage isn't our strong

point," Roger said ruefully. They were all

in the stable area helping the grooms

make last-minute touches, every horse

looking superb.

Sarah had been nominated to ride

last for the British team. She felt dwarfed

as she urged Arizona into the Dressage

rectangle and took him down the centre

line to stop in front of the judges. There

were three of them, and she dipped her

head toward the principal one who

acknowledged her salute with a bow.

As she took Arizona into the first

To page 149

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CONTINUED FROM PAGE 146

movement of the complicated test, she

felt his slight hesitation, and knew that

her own tension was being communi-

cated to him. She willed herself to

concentrate on the patterns and nothing

else.

She could hear the echo of John-

son's voice, all those shouted instruc-

tions from the past, and now in the

uncanny silence of the actual thing she

longed for the sound of his sarcastic,

comforting voice.

Sit upright, she told herself, look

ahead, hands still. She criss-crossed the

rectangle, going from one alphabet

marker to the other. Relax your hands,

/ou're gripping too hard. They notice

that, they notice everything. Now turn

him, now! And Arizona responded,

himself more confident now.

Concentrate, Sarah kept telling her-

self, concentrate. She felt she had been

Dut there for hours. The faces of the

spectators were a blur behind the banks

Df specially planted flowers that surroun-

ded the area.

Then it was all over. The uniformed

Dfficial saluted as she and Arizona made

their exit. She was just conscious of the

next competitor going past her to take

up his position, but she only realized

later that it had been Scott.

"Well done," Johnson said. "I know

what it's like out there and you managed

very well. Not textbook perhaps, but as

good as I could have hoped for."

At the end of the first day the British

were placed seventh.

They woke next morning to the day of

the cross-country speed and en-

durance test, the heart of the

Olympic Equestrian Three-Day Event.

lt is in four stages, the first being

some miles of roads and tracks, de-

signed to warm up horse and rider. Then

comes the steeplechase, followed by a

second and longer stretch of roads and

tracks, after which there is a ten-minute

break. Finally comes the cross-country,

the fourth and most gruelling stage.

A minimum weight must be carried,

and there are set time limits to be

observed.

Under Johnson's instructions, the

members of the team had walked the

course twice. "And don't ever forget

your horse is seeing it all for the first

time, so you've got to think for him."

Sarah had tried to mentally photo

graph the most difficult parts of the

course. But when they had walked it,

they had had it to themselves. Now the

countryside was dotted with clusters of

spectators. There were colours every-

where, officials darting about, cam-

eramen, television crews, and the hum of

excited voices.

Throughout the first roads and

tracks, she concentrated on saving

Arizona unnecessary exertion, dividing

her time between cantering and walking.

Like most of the riders she wore two

watches, a normal one and a stop watch.

Johnson's training and her own

preparations paid off, and she arrived at

the start of the steeplechase course

without having incurred any penalty.

She set off fast in the steeplechase,

letting Arizona jump at speed,

without checking his stride. Again

all went well for her, both in that and the

second roads and tracks.

Johnson had instructed them all to try

to arrive at the start of the cross-country

with a couple of minutes to spare, thus

giving themselves twelve minutes to rest

instead of the statutory ten.

Sarah came into the starting box at a

trot, slipped out of the saddle, and was

immediately surrounded by a posse of

British grooms who unsaddled Arizona

and started to sponge him down with

water.

"Timing's spot on," Johnson said.

"Don't get over-confident but I think

you've done remarkably so far. How's

Arizona behaving himself?"

"Enjoying every minute," Sarah said,

sipping the glucose drink she had been

handed. "I think he hated the Dres-

sage."

Arizona was being towelled down

now. Two of the grooms were greasing

his legs thickly from body to hoof,

everybody working quietly and

efficiently. Johnson glanced at his

watch. "Four minutes," he said.

They completed their grooming, and

saddled Arizona again, lt was only as

Sarah moved him into the starting box

that Johnson told her the bad news.

"lt's not confirmed yet, but it seems

pretty certain that Roger has had to pull

out. So remember our talk at Ledyard.

Ride to get round, ride for the team.

Good luck."

Then the starter signalled her to go,

and she urged Arizona forward into a

strong, relentless canter.

There were many spectators fol-

lowing her with special interest, for not

only was she the youngest rider in the

Games, but she rode with a verve that

some of the others lacked. But she didn't

hear the applause in her wake. All she

? was conscious of was the steady,

thudding rhythm of Arizona beneath her.

This marathon course contained

some thirty to forty really formidable

obstacles . . . vertical fences, spread

fences, ditches, banks, water jumps.

Arizona was jumping strongly at all

the early obstacles, but after the halfway

mark, Sarah could sense that he was

starting to tire. She heard the echo of

Johnson's words: "Don't get too

confident."

They came out of trees into strong

light, the sun having just burst through a

large bank of clouds. For a moment,

Sarah was blinded, and she took the

next obstacle badly.

Arizona lost his stride and was

awkwardly positioned in the following

jump. Then she was urging him up a

bank on the other side to a gigantic

brush fence, lt seemed to tower over

them, and Arizona faltered.

Sarah lost a stirrup, and as Arizona

refused, she was flung off, thudding into

the middle of the brush. She fell clear of

the horse, but on to her left shoulder,

and was conscious of a searing pain

which blotted out sky and grass.

none Help

Officials retrieved Arizona, who had

run to one side of the fence. Scarcely

conscious of what she was doing, Sarah

got to her feet. She knew that the rules

allowed her to accept help to remount,

but as she picked up the reins with her

left hand the pain returned.

She trotted Arizona back down the

bank and repositioned him for the

second attempt. She knew that she had

incurred twenty penalty points for the

refusal and another sixty for the fall.

"Don't refuse again," she begged.

"Please don't refuse again." She urged

him up the slope, the brush fence

loomed again - and then she was

sailing over.

"Oh, you darling! You darling, you

did it!" she shouted, and heard the

applause from the crowd for the first

time.

To page 150

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CONTINUED FROM PAGE 149

Then the pain in her shoulder came

back in great waves, but it seemed

strangely remote as though it were all

happening to someone else. As she

cleared jump after jump, the impacts

jarring the injured shoulder, it was

Arizona who was in control. The scenery

and the spectators rushed by like

speeded-up film.

Only four more to go, or was it five?

She had a moment of total panic,

thinking she had taken a wrong turn.

Then as though sensing her pain,

Arizona summoned a last reserve of

strength and took all the remaining leaps

without breaking stride. And suddenly

there was the end in sight. Spectators

were massed all the way to the finish,

and she put her head down, praying that

she would last.

They crossed the electronic finishing

line, and somehow she pulled Arizona

round and headed him for the unsad-

dling enclosure. She knew she could

accept no help until she had weighed in

again. She slipped from Arizona's back,

vaguely conscious of Beth, Tim, and

Johnson coming forward smiling.

She managed to get on to the scales

and off again, the saddle cradled in her

good arm. Then she felt the saddle

slipping from her grasp, and a rush of

green came up to meet her.

An ambulance rushed Sarah to the

specially constructed Olympic hospital

where the British team doctor diagnosed

a dislocated shoulder and mild concus-

sion. The effort of riding on after the fall

had torn the muscles and although the

shoulder was quickly put back into

position, she awoke to pain.

Johnson and the doctor were confer-

ring at the end of the bed.

"How's Arizona?" she whispered.

"He's fine," Johnson told her.

"How did we do?"

"Not bad," Johnson said. "In fact, it

was a remarkable piece of riding. Mike

and Howard also had good rounds."

"And what about Roger?"

"Roger had to withdraw. His horse

slipped a tendon."

"Have we any chance still?"

"Yes, the cross-country really

shuffled the pack. We're now in second

place for the medal."

"Who's first?"

"The Americans. The West Germans

are a close third to us, and the Aust-

ralians only two points behind them."

"Well, that settles it, doesn't it?"

Sarah said. "I have to ride tomorrow, or

the team will be eliminated. I'll be all right

though."

"You'll be all right if the doctor says

you're all right. You're not allowed

pain-killers, you know."

"I haven't got any pain."

"Tell that to the marines. You forget I

took a few spills in my time, and I know

what a dislocated shoulder feels like.

Anyhow, Sarah, the doctor will make the

decision. Not you, not me."

"I don't have to stay here, do I?"

"No," the doctor said. "You can go

back to the Village, but take It easy. I've

strapped you up and I want you to stay

strapped. Those muscles have taken a

beating."

Mike was waiting outside, and he

helped her back to the Village.

As with Johnson, she wanted to

convince him that she felt all right, but

her legs seemed to lack strength, and

her whole body ached. Thank goodness,

she thought, that Velvet wasn't there.

But the BBC television cameras had

been on the spot when she fell, and the

incident was given prominence in that

night's coverage of the event. Before the

commentator had finished, Velvet had

phoned through.

"Sarah, are you all right? Did you

break anything?"

"No, I just pushed my shoulder

about."

"Well listen, darling, you mustn't ride

if it's dangerous. Nothing's worth that."

Sarah reassured her. Then the rest of

their conversation left Velvet rather

puzzled for she sensed that Sarah had

someone else in the room and was

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CONTINUED FROM PAGE 150

anxious to finish the call. She was right,

except that Sarah wasn't in a room but

on the stairway of her dormitory block.

The person with her was Scott

Saunders. He had been on his way to

inquire about her when they met there.

"You should be resting," he said.

"I'm ali right. But it was nice of you to

come. You had a great ride today."

"I got lucky," he said. "What I came

to say was, win or lose, I'm taking you to

dinner tomorrow, ls that a date?"

"Yes, it's a date," she said, and he

leaned in suddenly and kissed her.

"Get some rest. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." For the first time since

the accident, she felt no pain.

The doctor was gloomy when he

examined Sarah next morning.

"Johnny, I think it's very questionable

whether she should ride. The shoulder's

back in place, but obviously it's very

tender, and I doubt if she'll have more

than fifty percent use of that arm."

"I have to ride!" Sarah insisted.

"Please! Anyhow, all that can happen is

that I have to pull out. Let me go in and

take the first jump. If it doesn't work,

we're no worse off."

An official ducked under the flap of

the British tent.

"Excuse me, Captain Johnson, but

there's only five minutes left before the

list is closed. Have you decided yet?"

"Tell him!" Sarah pleaded. Johnson

stared at her, then turned.

"All three members of the British

team will be riding."

"Oh, thank you!" Sarah cried.

"Right!" Johnson said. "Howard and

Mike. Sarah is riding last anyway, so if

you both get clear rounds, she can go,

but if we haven't a chance by the time

she's called, I'll scratch her."

"Understood," both men said.

Johnson looked hard at Sarah.

"Fair?" She nodded.

This third and final day's section

comprised show-jumping, for which the

fences were not so difficult, but riders

had to face the tensions of performing in

the arena. The leaders' scores were so

close that, as the BBC commentator

said, it promised to be a real cliff-hanger.

Back in England Velvet and John

were more on edge than anyone actually

present. The entire event was being

televised live, and they had invited some

of the local villagers to share what they

hoped would be a great celebration.

News that Sarah had passed the

fitness test had been given, and John

had champagne on ice.

The first rider, one of the

third-placing West German team,

took the early fences with style,

making it look easier than it was, and so

perhaps relaxed slightly. He undershot

the water jump, and ended up by

sending the top of the brick wall flying.

That seemed to be the pattern for the

next seven riders. They all began well,

then a minor fault led to errors, so that

no competitor had turned in a clear

round by the time Howard entered the

arena on Flying Scot, the most ex-

perienced horse in the British team.

He cleared fence after fence without

a mistake, and when he approached the

final challenge, a big, difficult triple, the

BBC commentator could barely conceal

his excitement.

"He's over the first . . . and the

second . . . and, yes, he's done it! And

inside the time limit! So that's a clear

round for Howard Purcell of Great

Britain on Flying Scot!"

Mike, riding later, chalked up the

second clear round for Great Britain,

and left the arena to prolonged ap-

plause.

"Well, the pressure's really on the

Americans now," the commentator said.

"Scott Saunders, the American team

captain, can't afford any penalty

points."

Scott was jumping faultlessly, but the

easing of tension evidently made him

relax concentration. He seemed un-

aware that he was taking the course too

slowly, never turning tight between

jumps.

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cJntemâtionâlc Velvel

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 152

"I think he'll have time faults," the

commentator said, as he finished.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, as the cameras

swung over to a shot of the official

timing. "He got time faults. Well, that

was certainly the last thing we expected

from a rider of his experience, lt just

goes to show that nothing is certain in

the Olympics."

John moved to the ice bucket where

the champagne was waiting.

"Don't touch it!" cried Velvet, "lt's

bad luck." Then suddenly on the screen

there was Sarah on Arizona.

There were no microphones near her,

otherwise the world audience might

have heard her whisper in Arizona's ear,

"Don't just do it for me, do it for your

father. He won the Grand National,

remember? And you've got to show

him."

As she listened for the signal to start

her round, Sarah felt the tension

L build within her. But from the

moment Arizona took the first jump, she

knew that he had not been put off by the

experiences of the previous day.

The pain in her arm vanished. Ari-

zona's stride was smooth and rhythmic.

Jumping in copybook fashion, he took

the water high and wide. They cleared

the seventh, eight, ninth. The atmos-

phere was electric. Unless a last-minute

tragedy occurred, it was obvious that

history was about to be made.

Even some of those who had most to

lose were willing the diminutive figure on

the flying horse to win. They were aware

of her injury, and that the gold medal

was within reach, just three fences away.

"Now there's just the triple, and she's

well ahead of the clock!" The commen-

tator's professional voice broke with

emotion.

Arizona met the last challenge on a

lengthening stride. He cleared the first,

and was over the second. Then time

seemed to hang still, for Sarah, for the

spectators, for those at home. Again

Arizona jumped . . . and they were over,

and through the finishing beam.

"She's done it!" the commentator

shouted, casting neutrality to the winds.

"Sarah Brown has done it for Great

Britain! No jumping faults, no time faults.

We shall have the official announcement

in a few seconds, but I can tell you that is

the gold medal, ladies and gentlemen."

The whole arena erupted as the

placings were confirmed and flashed on

to the electronic scoreboard, showing

Great Britain first, with USA second, and

Australia third.

As Sarah came into the unsaddling

enclosure, she was surrounded by the

entire British contingent.

Beth was crying, even the usually

unemotional Roger was misty-eyed, his

own disappointment forgotten. Mike and

Howard converged on her in a united

hug. There was Tim, the team doctor

and all the grooms, their faces shining

with pride.

Suddenly Sarah realized what it

meant to be part of a team, that nobody

could do it alone, and that the sharing

was more important than anything else.

Johnson came through the crush, and

she kissed him impulsively and saw his

face redden.

"You've got to go out there again,

you three, and receive your medal."

"Our medal," Sarah said to him.

Back home, John had opened the

champagne, and they were toasting

Sarah, Arizona, the whole British team.

They watched the team take the place of

honour in the middle of the presentation

dais, Sarah standing between Howard

and Mike, and with the American and

Australian teams on either side.

As Sarah bent forward for the Presi-

dent of the Games to place the medal

round her neck, the pageantry of it all

made Velvet start crying.

"I can't believe Sarah's actually

there! That she did it," Velvet sobbed.

The flags of the victorious nations

were hoisted, and as the band played

"God Save The Queen," and she felt

Howard and Mike straighten to attention

beside her, the enormity of the occasion

overwhelmed Sarah.

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jnlemaltonal Uebet

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 155

She swayed slightly and felt she was

going to faint, then Mike's fingers

tightened on her hand, and the moment

passed.

Sarah turned, looking for Johnson.

He stood alone, close to the horses, and

he had taken off his hat for the Anthem

and was still bare-headed. She willed

him to look in her direction and finally he

raised his eyes.

She saw his mouth move but there

was no means of telling what he was

saying to her, for the noise of the

continuing applause swamped all, but

he was smiling and she hoped she had at

last convinced him that in conquering

she had also fought well.

lt was late afternoon and for the

second time that day Velvet walked

none Help

Fresh from the Olympics, Sarah introduces Scott to Velvet and John.

alone along the edge of the sea. Four

days had passed since the excitement of

the victory. . . days of anti-climax, then

puzzlement turning to anxiety when no

word came from Sarah, and then, since

the arrival of the telegram, hurt.

Looking up, she saw John coming to

her across the sands. "This came for

you. Special delivery." He held out a

small package.

"What is it?"

"Darling, how should I know? I

haven't opened it. lt's addressed to

you."

Velvet opened the package and

found a flat jewellery box. Inside there

was a folded paper with her name on it.

But a sudden gust of wind blew this to

the sand as though on cue, and she saw

that the box contained an Olympic gold

medal.

As she stared at it, John retrieved the

paper. "Don't you want to read what

came with it?"

"You read it to me."

John unfolded the paper and read

aloud, "I know there's more to winning

than the prizes - you taught me that.

But since you never got to keep yours,

I'd like you to have this. Love always.

Sarah."

Velvet was crying now. John put his

arms around her and gently turned her

round. "By the way," he said, "it was

hand-delivered."

She stared across the sands. Two

figures were coming toward them, a girl

and a tall young man. The girl rested a

hand on the young man's shoulder while

she removed her shoes, then she started

to run barefooted across the beach.

"lt's Sarah! You knew, you knew all

the time!" Velvet said. Sarah ran to her,

and they embraced. Then Sarah turned

and led the young man forward.

"Scott," she said, "I'd like you to

meet my parents."

The young man held out his hand and

Velvet took it, but she couldn't see his

face clearly for the tears in her eyes, and

she was not crying for herself now. She

was crying for the agony of happiness,

for what Sarah had said, for something

she had never known before, rrry

Copyright (C) by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Inc. From

"International Velvet" by Bryan Forbes, published by

William Heinemann Ltd.