Leap of Faith (2 page)

The water jump was next. Around the jump was a sea of colour.
Jesus, look at all the people. Crikey.
Concentrate, Jess!

Did Prince have the legs to go straight through or should she go the safer, longer route? It was coming up fast. She was through the trees and on the approach and had to make a split-second decision. She hesitated, her mind clouded. Prince was on track to go right through. She gathered him up, but it was too late – she'd missed the first of her four strides. Three, two … Shit, she wasn't going to make it. He was half a stride out and badly placed – too far for one stride on such a fence and too close for him to get an extra one in. All she could do now was just hope to hell he'd get her through this. She gave the horse his head, grabbed onto the martingale strap with both hands, sat back in the saddle and held on tight with her legs. She'd let them down.

He leapt. But not high enough. Among the sound of flapping leather and the heave and grunt of the big horse beneath her, she heard a collective intake of breath from the crowd.
Oh shit. Shit!

There was an almighty thud as the tops of Prince's legs hit the solid timber of the jump.

Everything became a slow-motion whirl as the horse struggled over, Jessica still in the saddle and clinging on. Then she could feel them tipping sideways, falling. It was deathly quiet around them.

A loud splash shattered the eerie silence. Jessica felt herself hit the water, and then the heavy weight of Prince was on her.
Ow! Oh Christ.
She wanted to scream, release some of the agony in her leg. But if she opened her mouth she'd probably drown. Her helmet was full of water. She was too heavy. It was all too hard. If Prince was dead on top of her, she'd rather be dead too.

She closed her eyes.

Jessica felt the weight leave her. She lifted her water-filled helmet, coughed and spluttered, spat out a mouthful of mud. She wiped a filthy hand across her face to try to clear her vision and her fuzzy mind. She thought she could see that Prince was upright, standing nearby, but the angle she was at and with her brain playing tricks on her, she wasn't certain of anything, except that she was in a shitload of pain.
I've got to get out of here. I'm holding everything up.

‘Ow! My leg!' she screamed as a bolt of pain seared through her when she tried to sit up.
Holy fucking shit, that fucking hurts! Shit, I didn't swear out loud, did I? Oh fuck, who cares? This fucking hurts! Jesus Christ.
She felt sick.

People were calling to her to stay where she was. She knew now she couldn't move if she wanted to. There was the pain, but she also didn't seem able to thread enough thoughts together to put her limbs in the right place. She stared around the crowd, dazed. Everyone looked really worried. She examined herself from her awkward, half-curled position. At least her leg seemed to be at a normal angle.

And then panic gripped her. Where was Prince? He wasn't still in the water with her. That was a good sign. Was it? She tried to cast her eyes around her. She'd seen him on his feet, hadn't she? She couldn't remember, couldn't focus on anything but the pain.

She could feel the cold water in her boots, so she couldn't have broken her neck or back. She wriggled her fingers. Fine, too. She would sit up. But when she tried to prop herself onto her right elbow, an excruciating pain shot down her right side.

‘
Ow!
'

At least she could now see Prince. He was standing, his head hung, being held by one of the officials in a hi-vis vest, over by a tree. When she concentrated, she could see he was resting a back leg. Shit, how badly hurt was he? She put her hands to her head and began to cry – loud, racking sobs. She needed her dad.

‘It's okay, love,' the man holding Prince called. ‘I've had a good look. He seems fine, just a couple of scrapes. And he'll be a bit stiff and sore tomorrow …'

Had a good look? How could he have, it'd only been two seconds, hadn't it? Though she'd also swear, if asked, she'd been lying there for half an hour. Time was doing weird things.

Jessica tried to focus on the two people in green overalls who appeared beside her – a male and a female paramedic. She felt bad about them having to get in the muddy water to tend to her. And she felt bad for the organisers now she'd stuffed up their timing for the day. God, she had to get out of this and let them reopen the course.

‘It's okay, I can get up,' she said. At exactly the same time she wondered,
Can I?
Feeling very shaky, she put both hands down to hoist herself up. And then realised she couldn't feel her feet.

‘No, you don't.'

‘But I'm holding them up.'

‘Too bad, young lady, you're hurt,' the male paramedic said gruffly, then added in a more gentle tone, ‘If you move you'll just make things worse. Please let us do our jobs and take care of you.'

Jessica nodded.

They asked her question after question. They peered into her eyes with a light, poked and prodded her. She had trouble following what they were doing and saying. Her leg was now throbbing.

‘Here, suck on this. It'll help with the pain,' the female paramedic said, and pushed a hard, green, whistle-shaped plastic object between her lips. It was a little like what she'd seen in the movies. Jessica took a deep suck. Bloody hell, it tasted awful! Sweet, sickly, slightly fruity – they didn't mention that in the movies! But the instant warm feeling that flooded her body was worth enduring the dreadful taste.
Actually, it's growing on me
. It was starting to remind her of the Juicy Fruit chewing gum she'd loved as a kid.
Man, that's good shit!
She felt all woolly and cosy, and the pain became a dull, barely there, ache. She'd found her new best friend. She felt herself relax. They could do whatever they liked to her now.

A stiff collar was put around her neck – just as a precaution, she was assured – and then, on the count of three, she was lifted out of the water and onto a hard board.

‘Please don't cut my boots off,' she said as they carried her to the ambulance. But the words that came out were so slurred it was no wonder they looked at her and frowned with confusion. Oh well, what's a grand for another pair? She was alive and Prince didn't look too bad. Well, he was upright. She held on tight to her new green best friend. She was beginning to feel quite okay. Perhaps she wasn't too seriously hurt after all.

‘Just lie back and relax.'

Jessica felt she had no option but to comply.

‘But I need you to stay awake,' the woman added, as Jessica closed her eyes and let out a deep breath.

Damn. They didn't half want much. She felt so sleepy. She opened her eyes and looked around to try to distract herself from the sleepiness trying to claim her. She saw that the man holding Prince had brought him up as close as he could get without being in the way. Jessica could see the course vet was having a good look at her horse. The man holding Prince gave her the thumbs-up signal.

She tried to lift her hand to wave back and offer some sort of gesture of thanks, but it was too heavy. And her brain was struggling with basic thought and battling exhaustion. God, she was tired. And sore; the pain was masked, but there was enough of a feeling to tell her she'd done some damage. At least she hadn't broken her neck – if she could feel pain down her right side all the way to her foot, she couldn't have broken her leg or have serious spinal damage, right?

She noticed a few familiar faces gathered around Prince – fellow competitors who had been before her in the draw and their strappers; someone would make sure Prince was looked after. That was the great thing about the horse community: they were all fiercely competitive, but they all banded together when necessary. And was that Zoe and Lucy, two of her young pupils, standing over there too? Poor kids, having to see this.

Jess was loaded into the ambulance and the doors banged shut behind her.

*

The trip in the ambulance seemed to take just moments – or maybe it was an hour? Jessica was in no state to know, or care. But with the event being in the city's parklands and less than a kilometre from the Royal Adelaide Hospital, it was more likely just a few minutes. She was wheeled into an open area with cubicles divided by curtains, and hoisted onto another gurney. The paramedics wished her all the best, and said goodbye. She thanked them in a mumble. She tried to apologise for their wet, muddy attire, but they were gone. She hoped they had a change of clothes in a locker somewhere.

Left alone, Jessica returned to worrying about Prince. When she tried to picture the accident, her mind went blank. She was able to relive their take-off, with Prince failing to fit in the extra-small stride, but was unable to recall the actual fall and the horse being on top of her in the water. She really hoped they hadn't lied to her about his injuries so she wouldn't worry. What if he had to be put down? Jessica began to sob. Oh, God, he'd looked so forlorn.

She chided herself into getting a grip. He'd been upright and on all four legs. He was probably just a bit bruised and feeling sorry for himself. And exhausted – he'd managed to get around half of his first international two-star cross-country round.

Jessica wondered who might have sorted out her gear and taken Prince home. She wished she knew what was going on. She felt naked without her mobile. And her wallet – wouldn't they need her Medicare card? Oh well, perhaps her full name and date of birth would do. But of course they had all her details – they were on the medical armband each competitor was required to wear. She relaxed slightly. Someone would call Steve, her listed emergency contact, and he would be by her side as soon as he could. Though, he was at least an hour's drive away. Had someone phoned him already? Was he still at tennis? Tears began to sting.

Her best friend, Tiffany, was her second emergency contact. But today she was off competing at Burra – miles away – and would have her phone off or not with her for most of the time.

Jessica blinked back the tears. She needed someone beside her to tell her everything would be okay. She had to keep it together. But she was frightened, and so lonely. More tears prickled, and a few slipped out and down her cheeks.

Jessica felt a wave of pain roar down her right side and promptly burst into sobs. She'd never felt so utterly alone and helpless. She realised she'd lost track of her pain whistle – hadn't sucked on it for ages. She looked around and down. Suddenly the thought of the pain returning was quite terrifying.

She found the whistle clutched in her hand, lying on her chest. Thank God she still had her little friend. But how long would it help her? She took a suck and firmly told herself to pull it together. There was no blood or protruding bones that she could see; she was probably only bruised and suffering from shock. All of this was most likely just precautionary and part of event procedures to comply with their insurance cover.

‘Hi, I'm Anna,' said the nurse who had materialised beside the bed, dragging the curtain closed behind her with a long whoosh and metallic zing.

Jessica tried to say hi, but her chin was too wobbly and her voice came out as a croak. She thought she probably should be embarrassed to be blubbering like this, but then decided the nurse would have seen a hell of a lot worse in her time.

‘Are you in pain?'

‘Just feeling sorry for myself,' Jessica finally managed with a grimace of a smile.

‘You're allowed. I hear you've had half a tonne of horse on top of you, you poor thing,' she said. ‘You're damned lucky to still be here, let alone conscious. Now, first up, I'm going to get these wet clothes off and get you warm. If you're not already, you'll be cold soon. And I'm afraid we're going to have to cut your boots off. And they look so expensive. I need some heavy-duty scissors, back in a sec.'

Jessica nodded, feeling a new wave of tears threatening.

‘The ambulance guys said your horse got up okay. Thank goodness for that,' the nurse continued when she reappeared with a large pair of what looked like dressmaker's shears. Jessica nodded. Tears poured down her cheeks again. She didn't know what had set her off this time; she'd known her boots would have to be sacrificed and had thought she'd already come to terms with it. She looked down at them, wondering what damage they were hiding. Now she was thinking about it, her boot felt really tight, like,
excruciatingly
tight. The sooner it was off, the better. She hoped it wouldn't hurt.

‘Such lovely boots – what a waste. I feel terrible doing this. Hopefully they're covered by your insurance,' the nurse said as she began to cut.

Jessica mumbled and tried to make a mental note to remember to look into their contents insurance, but she was suddenly feeling very queasy. She felt the bile rise.

‘I think I'm going to be …' Too late. She only just managed to turn her head to stop the vomit from going down her front. It went onto the floor instead. Her throat burned from the acid and the absence of anything else in her stomach.

‘Oh God, I'm so sorry,' she groaned.

‘It's okay. Someone will clean it up later. It's my fault; I should have made sure you had a bowl first up. You might have concussion. Do you think you lost consciousness?'

‘I don't think so, but it is all a bit of a blur.'

‘You might need a CT scan. We'll see what the doctor says when one turns up. Not sure when that will be.'

The nurse went back to work on her boot. Jessica could feel the movement of every snip. It didn't really hurt, but did feel uncomfortable. She hoped the nurse wasn't doing any more damage to her leg. She looked away; she didn't want to see anything gory when the boot came off.

As she studied the geometric pattern on the curtain, Jessica felt time starting to do weird things again. One moment she felt like she'd been in the hospital for hours, but the next it was as if only seconds ago she and Prince had been making their way around the course. And she'd been doing so well. A touch slow, but clear.
Damn it!