White Tiger

been a member?’
    ‘I was one of the first Chinese to be nominated,’ he said. ‘Something over a hundred years, I’m not sure.’
    I choked back the laugh. ‘Sorry. How do you deal with the passage of time?’
    ‘I keep “inheriting” the membership—I have legal staff who handle that sort of thing for me.’
    He led us down the drive to the stables. The sparkling white building had a red tiled roof and seemed to stretch forever.
    A beautiful red-headed woman rode past on a spectacularly shining chestnut thoroughbred. She wore expensive breeches and a bright green cotton shirt. ‘Hello, John.’ She stopped her horse and bent to speak to us with a very cultured English accent. ‘Hi, Simone.’
    ‘Hello, Claudia. I’m going to ride.’
    ‘I’ll see you at the arena later then.’
    ‘Bye.’
    Claudia shot a sharp glance at me, from my feet to my head, and rode away.
    Mr Chen took Simone’s hand and we went into the complex, past a cleaner with a broom and dustpan who was carefully collecting every stray piece of hay or straw. We entered the stable building, with its large looseboxes on either side of the corridor. Fans on the ceiling kept the horses cool.
    ‘How many horses here?’ I asked.
    ‘About two hundred,’ Mr Chen said.
    I whistled under my breath. ‘And they’re all retired racehorses?’
    ‘There are a few riding ponies as well, for the children.’ He nodded to a Chinese man leading a grey thoroughbred through the stables. ‘It’s a shame, not many of the racehorses make it this far. By the time they finish their racing career, most of them are either lame or too unruly to be decent saddle horses. These are the lucky ones. The Jockey Club does its best for them.’
    ‘You’re not joking,’ I said. We passed a groom leading a wet horse that had just been washed and Mr Chen pulled Simone out of the way. ‘This is like the horsy Hilton.’
    ‘No turnout for them though,’ Mr Chen said. ‘Thereisn’t enough space. They’re in the stables all the time, except when they’re ridden or on the exercise machine.’
    ‘So your horse needs to be ridden every day?’
    ‘I have somebody to do it for me when I can’t. The son of a friend.’
    We reached Star’s stable. The horse must have been seventeen hands high; he was enormous. The groom had already saddled him for Mr Chen.
    Mr Chen nodded to the groom and shared a few words with him in Cantonese. The groom led the horse out and we followed.
    We returned to the forecourt of the stables. An Olympic-sized indoor arena with viewing stands and a dark earth floor stood in the centre of the complex.
    ‘This is like something out of a movie,’ I said.
    A European man on a very solid grey thoroughbred rode past and casually greeted Mr Chen.
    Mr Chen waved back. He looked around, then nodded to some grooms holding ponies. ‘These are for you.’
    Simone ran to the groom holding a cute black pony. He helped her on and adjusted her girth and stirrups for her.
    ‘The white one for you, Emma,’ Mr Chen said. ‘Thanks.’
    The groom led the horse to the mounting block for me. When I was on I tried to adjust the stirrups but he wouldn’t let me; he had to do it. I wasn’t allowed to fix the girth either. Eventually I just sat, feeling extremely spoilt, while the groom did everything for me.
    Mr Chen swung onto a dancing Star as the groom held the horse for him. He buckled his helmet, then took up the reins and nodded to the groom. ‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘We’ll have a walk around the cross-country course and then a run in the outdoor arena.’
    The cross-country course was about ten hectares of beautifully manicured lawns and hedges with flowers. A few gardeners worked on the hedges as we rode past.
    Star fidgeted all the way, baulking at every sound and trying to trot away. Mr Chen held him effortlessly; he was a fine rider.
    ‘How long have you been riding?’ I said.
    ‘On and off,’ he said cheerfully, ‘about sixteen hundred years.’
    ‘I have to stop asking questions like that,’ I said under my breath.
    The European woman we’d seen earlier, Claudia, rode towards us. She turned her horse to join us. ‘Hello, John. Where have you been all the summer? We missed you.’
    ‘Star has turnout in China during the summer,’ Mr Chen said. ‘I only ride him in the cooler months.’
    ‘Lucky you, I wish I could do that.’ She smiled at me, friendlier now. ‘Who’s this?’
    ‘This is Emma, she looks after me,’