The Auditions. Stacy Gregg
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Lucinda said gently, “you’ve had a fall. Elimination doesn’t matter now. You could get back on and finish the course but that won’t change anything… it’s over.”
Deep down Georgie knew that there was no point in getting back on. A fall on the cross-country course automatically cost a rider sixty faults. And this fall had cost her much more than that. With sixty faults there was no way she could win. All those hours of training had been reduced to nothing in one brief moment of misfortune at the water jump. Her dream had been lost forever. She had failed the auditions for Blainford Academy.
At Little Brampton Stables that evening, Georgie checked Tyro over one more time, running her hands down his legs looking for any signs of heat that might indicate an injury. The black pony seemed sound enough, so she threw on his lightweight summer rug, and turned him out in the field with his hard feed.
Georgie watched as Tyro snuffled about eagerly consuming the contents of his feed bucket. He was a greedy pony and a quick eater, and always managed to hoover up every last crumb.
With the now empty feed bucket under her arm, Georgie headed back to the tack room to deal with Tyro’s saddle and bridle. They were caked in mud from the fall so she sat down on a pile of old horse rugs with a cake of saddle soap and a cloth and got to work on the stirrup leathers.
Georgie loved the tack room at Lucinda’s stables. It smelt of horse sweat and leather, and sometimes a little bit of dead mouse, but she didn’t mind that too much. She often sat in here and looked at the walls, covered with her trainer’s rosettes, ribbons and photographs.
As she began to wipe down Tyro’s bridle, Georgie’s eyes scanned the walls. There were photos of Lucinda, taken at school when she was a student at Blainford. Lucinda hadn’t changed much since those days and looked just the same, with her smiling eyes and her brown hair in a messy ponytail. The girl who featured in most of the photos with Lucinda also had long brown hair and a broad smile. She was Ginny Parker, Georgie’s mum and Lucinda Milwood’s best friend at Blainford. After they left school Ginny had gone on to become a famous international eventing rider and it was no secret that Georgie wanted to follow in her footsteps.
Georgie’s favourite picture on the wall was an action shot of her mother riding a bay mare named Boudicca. They were in full flight over a massive stone wall, the mare had her ears pricked forward and Ginny’s hazel eyes were focused intently on the next jump ahead.
Georgie missed her mum so much. She knew it probably wouldn’t have changed the outcome if she had been there today. But she wished more than anything that her mum were here to give her a hug, to tell her that what happened on the cross-country course wasn’t her fault and that everything would be OK.
Hot tears made their way down Georgie’s cheeks. She reached up and brushed them away angrily with the back of her hand. There was no point in being like this, Georgie told herself. No use sniffling and feeling sorry for herself and hoping for things that weren’t going to happen. She had lost at Great Brampton and nothing would change that. And it was no good wishing her mum was here. Because Ginny Parker was gone, and she wasn’t coming back.
Georgie’s fall at Great Brampton undoubtedly delighted Daisy King, who rose up from second place in the rankings and rode brilliantly to take first place. Strangely enough however, it wasn’t just Georgie’s rivals who were happy that she’d lost. Her friends were chuffed as well.
“I can’t help it. I think it’s brilliant news!” Lily said when Georgie told her about the water jump disaster at school the following day. “Honestly, Georgie. You’re my best friend and I can’t stand the idea of you leaving to go to some posh, horsey school in America.”
Georgie sighed. She should have known better than to expect sympathy from Lily.
“I mean,” Lily continued, “I don’t even understand why you want to go to boarding school anyway. It’s like wanting to go to prison!”
“Blainford’s not just a boarding school,” Georgie countered with exasperation. “It’s an elite training school with horses.” She didn’t know why she bothered. It was the same old argument they’d had a million times. Georgie couldn’t blame her best friend for being anti-Blainford. After all, if Georgie actually managed to get a place at the academy then it would mean moving away from Little Brampton and away from Lily. They had been best friends ever since they met at Little Brampton primary school at the age of four. Now they were thirteen and in their second year at Little Brampton High School.
“They feed you gruel at boarding school, you know,” Lily continued.
“What’s gruel?” Georgie asked.
“It’s like porridge only worse; tasteless and runny,” Lily told her. “I read a book about a boarding school where the children all got gruel and were whipped with a birch stick when they were naughty.”
Georgie groaned, “Maybe if you went to boarding school two hundred years ago it was like that, Lily. I don’t think anyone gets beaten with a birch stick at Blainford.”
“I bet they still have the gruel though,” Lily was insistent.
“The worst bit about yesterday,” Georgie said, changing the subject, “was after I fell off. I was walking back to the horse truck with Tyro, all soaked and grubby and everyone on the sidelines was watching us, and then my dad says really loudly so that everyone can hear, ‘Never mind, Georgina, how about I buy you an ice cream on the way home to cheer you up!’“ Georgie rolled her eyes. “As if I was a four-year-old who’d lost a lollipop–not an eventing rider who’d just taken a fall on the cross-country course!”
Lily giggled. “Your dad just doesn’t get it, does he?”
Georgie shook her head. “He doesn’t understand me, full stop. He never has really.”
“He’s no worse than my dad,” Lily said. “He doesn’t have a clue about me either. At least your dad was willing to let you apply to Blainford, even though the school fees must cost a bomb.”
“It’s not like it was Dad’s idea. He hates the thought of me going there. Mum was the one who had my name down on the enrolment list from the day I was born.”
It had been a massive battle for Georgie to convince Dr Parker to let her apply for Blainford. Her dad didn’t understand why she wanted to go. “You already have a pony,” he told her. “Why can’t you stay here and save riding for after school and the weekends? The local high school is perfectly adequate.”
“No, it’s not,” Georgie had told him. “Not if I want to become a world-class rider. All the best riders in the world have been to Blainford. You get to take your horse with you and you can ride every day, plus there are specialist riding classes and they teach all sorts of horse subjects as well as the regular stuff like English and maths.”
“I think you’re being swayed by the fact that your mother went to school there,” Dr Parker said. “I’m sure if we look around we could find an equestrian school here in Gloucestershire that is just as good. I believe there are several excellent ones in the county. Why does it have to be this Blainford–on the other side of the world in America?”
“Blainford is the best,” Georgie countered. “It’s not just because of Mum, honestly. It has amazing instructors.” Her dad didn’t seem to understand that half the appeal was the fact that it was a million miles away. Georgie loved their village but at the same time she was desperate to get away. Ever since her mother’s accident, she’d been so lonely here. Her dad tried hard, but he didn’t know anything about horses, or how it felt to be a thirteen-year-old girl with dreams of horsey super-stardom, stuck in boring old Little Brampton.
Georgie had nothing in common with her dad. Everyone said she was just like her mum, tall and willowy with a fair complexion and smattering of freckles.