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asked.
    “They stop any bruising or swelling from contacting the poles,” Verity said.
    “Why don’t we just bandage their legs beforehand to protect them?” Issie asked.
    “We need the horses to feel pain when they hit a jump. It has to hurt them so they learn their lesson — that’s how rapping works,” Verity replied.
    The head groom didn’t seem to notice the look of abject horror on Issie’s face. She was busy bending back down again to adjust the fastenings on the iceboot.
    “Can you fill the next boot with ice and pass it to me?”
    Verity clearly didn’t want to discuss the virtues of rapping with the new junior groom. But Issie had other matters that she wanted to talk to Verity about, anyway.
    “Verity?” Issie asked nervously.
    “Uh-huh.”
    “What were you doing when I saw you earlier in the stall with Tottie?”
    Verity glared up at Issie. Her eyes were black and threatening.
    “Don’t talk about it! Not here!” she hissed under her breath. “I told you, didn’t I? If you know what’s goodfor you, then you won’t get involved!” Verity stood up and looked nervously around the stall. “You can put the other boot on by yourself,” she said flatly. “Leave them on her for twenty minutes then take them off again. I’ve got to go and get Tottie ready. Meet us back in the arena when you’re done. You’ll be helping Ginty on the ground this time.”
    As Issie took up her position opposite Penny, she felt sick to her stomach. It was bad enough being the one jumping over the rail, but lifting it and hitting the horses on purpose felt even worse.
    “I don’t want to do this,” she told Ginty.
    The flame-haired trainer seemed genuinely shocked. “Why?”
    “Because I’m going to hurt the horses.”
    Ginty shook her head. “It’s for their own good. In the old days people used to let children touch a hotplate on the cooker. They’d burn their fingers, but they would learn the lesson — and they’d never touch the hotplate again. You’re the mother trying to teach your child alesson. If your horse learns to keep their feet up when they jump, isn’t that a good thing?”
    Issie still didn’t really understand. What kind of awful mum would let a kid stick their finger on a hotplate? But she could see that Ginty was fed up with her making a fuss about things. And so Issie reluctantly took up her position next to the jump and stood there with her heart hammering in her chest as Verity rode into the ring on Tottie.
    Tottie was a gorgeous mare, with a really swingy trot and lovely dark grey dapples. Issie might not exactly have been a member of the Verity fan club, but she had to admit that Dulmoth Park’s head groom rode her really beautifully. Everything about Verity was precise and exact. She always had her body in the perfect position, her hands steady, her eyes up and her heels down.
    “How does she feel, Verity?” Ginty asked.
    “She’s tracking up,” Verity replied. “She seems fine.”
    Issie noticed that Ginty was looking closely at Tottie’s hind legs.
    “Is there something wrong with her?” Issie asked.
    Ginty stayed focused on the mare. “Just making sure that she’s level in the back,” she told Issie.
    Level in the back?
Issie thought. That meant Ginty was watching Tottie’s back legs to see whether the mare was lame or sore.
    Whatever Tottie’s problem might have been, Ginty seemed satisfied that there was nothing wrong. “She looks good to me. Bring her over the fence, please.”
    Verity brought Tottie in towards the fence. Issie stood by, holding the rail, waiting. She was so nervous, her hands were wet with sweat, and she worried that she wouldn’t be able to keep her grip on the painted pole.
    As the grey mare took off, Issie grasped the rail with both hands and looked across at Penny, waiting for her to give the cue. “OK…” Penny nodded, “do it now!”
    The two girls picked up at exactly the same time, hoisting the rail out of its cups and