The Auditions. Stacy Gregg
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Mrs Hawley bristled.
“There will be no elimination. She’s going through to the next round.”
Mrs Hawley stomped off angrily as Tara looked at her watch. “I’d better get back to the selectors’ tent,” she said. “There are still sixty riders to get through the first phase before lunch break.”
“Why don’t you come and meet us at my lorry for lunch?” Lucinda offered.
Tara shook her head. “I don’t think that would be wise. We don’t want to give the Mrs Hawleys of this world a chance to cry favouritism again, do we?” The chief selector turned to Georgie. “I’m surprised to see you here today, Georgina. I didn’t think Ginny’s daughter would be a showjumper.”
“I’m an eventer, really,” Georgie said, “at least, I want to be one.”
“Good!” Tara said brightly. “So if you make it through the auditions I can look forward to having you in my cross-country classes.”
Georgie felt quite pleased until Tara added, “It’s the toughest course at Blainford. If a rider isn’t good enough they’re gone. Only half the students who start the year with me will make it through to the end. It’s dangerous too–the cross-country department holds the record for more broken bones than the rest of the school put together. Perhaps you might like to reconsider and take up showjumping–it’s a much safer option.”
And with that, Tara waved a brisk goodbye and headed back to the selectors’ tent. Georgie was wide-eyed as she watched her go. “Broken bones? Is she running a cross-country class or Accident and Emergency?”
Lucinda sighed. “Don’t be put off. Tara loves to come across as icy and strict when in fact she’s.” Lucinda paused. “Well, actually, that’s pretty much what she’s like. She’s a perfectionist–and at her peak she was ranked one of the best riders in the world. She’s a brilliant teacher. If you’re lucky enough to get into her class at Blainford you should jump at the chance.”
Although Tara turned down Lucinda’s offer of lunch, they had company as Olivia and her mum came over to join them. For dessert Mrs Prescott brought jam tarts and Lucinda produced her irresistible ginger crunch.
Olivia had two slices and then pronounced that the butterflies in her tummy now felt even worse than before.
“I’ve eaten too much! I won’t make it through in the jump-offs,” she groaned as she lay back on the ramp of the lorry holding her tummy.
“Yes,” Georgie agreed, “it was my cunning plan to invite you over to scoff all the ginger crunch.”
Olivia and Molly had put in a very professional round that morning, jumping the course so smoothly and cleanly they made it look easy, which it wasn’t. From the total pool of 116 riders, only a meagre fourteen had made it through to the next round. The rest were packing their horses into their lorries and trailers for the drive home.
“I can’t believe Sybil Hawley got through,” Georgie groaned. “Did you hear her mum shrieking on the sidelines?”
Olivia giggled, “Poor Sybil. I’d hate to have a mum like that.”
“What, noisy?” Georgie said.
“No, orange!” Olivia burst out laughing. Georgie collapsed with the giggles too. It had been really good fun hanging out with Olivia today. Georgie hoped that they would both make it through to the finals in Birmingham.
The next round that afternoon was a speed contest and the jumps had been raised to a metre twenty. Georgie was feeling confident about riding against the clock. Tyro was the fastest pony she had ever ridden and he was brilliant at tight turns. Georgie had walked the course and was planning on taking some very tricky, extreme shortcuts. The last two jumps were key for Georgie’s alternative route, cutting a corner to come in at the planks on a sharp angle. If they could pull it off this might slash their time by two whole seconds. It was a risky strategy, but worth it if they went clear.
At 2pm there was a briefing in the main arena for the remaining fourteen riders. They were told to arrive with their horses fully tacked up. “What is this about?” Georgie asked.
Lucinda frowned. “I’m not sure, but the selectors often like to throw a curve ball at this phase to test the riders. One year they made everyone take off their saddles and compete bareback.”
Georgie looked at the enormous jumps in the arena. It would be a nightmare trying to ride a course like that bareback! Surely the selectors weren’t planning the same thing?
As the riders organised themselves, Tara Kelly walked into the arena and stood in front of them. “Can all the riders please dismount and run up your stirrups,” she announced. “We’re going to make some last minute changes.”
Georgie dismounted nervously. She felt her palms sweating as she gripped the reins. As Tara Kelly strode back and forth with arms folded across her chest, Georgie felt sick with anticipation, certain that at any moment they would be instructed to remove their saddles. But this year Blainford’s chief selector had another trial in mind.
“I know how hard you have trained to be here,” Tara said. “You’ve schooled your ponies and become a team.” She paused. “I want to see what happens when that team is torn apart.”
Tara stepped forward and began walking down the line-up, handing each rider a folded-over piece of paper. “A great rider should be able to mount up on any horse and achieve a clear round,” Tara continued as she walked along handing out the papers. “This afternoon we’ll be testing your abilities on a horse that you’ve never ridden before.”
Tara handed out the last two to Olivia and Georgie.”On your piece of paper you’ll find the name of one of the horses in this arena.” Tara paused. “That’s the horse you’ll ride for the next round. As of right now, you are swapping mounts. The names have been chosen at random. There can be no complaints and no trading. You must ride the horse you have been given. The rules of the competition remain the same–a clear round in the fastest time will win. Two refusals in this round and you are out.” Tara looked at the line-up of stunned faces. “Please open your piece of paper.”
Georgie unfolded hers and felt her stomach lurch in shock.
Tara continued, “You may go and claim the horse.” No one moved. “Hurry up and find your horses!” Tara told them. “The first rider is due to jump in twenty minutes.”
The fourteen riders suddenly began running in all directions, dragging their horses behind them in a mad rush as they frantically searched for the horse they had been drawn to ride. Georgie hadn’t moved. She was staring at the paper in disbelief. She had drawn Caprice.
“Any tips for riding her?” Georgie asked as she walked over to take Sybil’s horse.
“You must be joking!” Sybil virtually flung the reins at her. “I’m not giving you any help!”
At least Sybil hadn’t been allocated Tyro, Georgie thought as she stood holding two horses. She was dreading handing over her beloved pony to some complete stranger and kept an anxious watch on anyone who approached her. Georgie was beyond relieved when Olivia came up positively beaming, waving Tyro’s name on her slip.
“I can’t believe I got him!” Olivia said. “Isn’t this the craziest thing you’ve ever seen?”
Her hands were shaking as she took Tyro’s reins. “I’ve had Molly for two years,” she explained. “I haven’t been on another horse for ages.”
“Tyro won’t give you any trouble,” Georgie reassured her. “He never refuses a jump, but he does rush fences sometimes so sit back between them.”
“OK.” Olivia was trying to take deep breaths. “I can do that.”
“He’s fast too,” Georgie said, stroking the Connemara’s pretty face, “and he’s good at correcting his own stride. Give him his head once you hit the