Charlotte and the Starlet (4 page)

Ralph put his hand over the phone and turned to
Bobby.

'What? What's up with you? You want to go to the
bathroom?'

'We need to talk,' hissed Bobby.

Ralph had a bad feeling.

'I'll call you back,' he said and hung up on Joel
Gold. His eyes bored into Bobby. 'What have you
done?'

Bobby smiled confidently. 'It's okay. Don't worry.
I thought of a much better hiding place.'

Leila did not like the way this had turned out at all. One
minute she's eating pizza, the next she's turfed out into
this cold paddock. The open air, mind you! At night!
Surrounded by all these aggressive low-life horses. The
ringleader, this black stallion, a real thug, was crowding
her now and the others were starting to close in too.
There didn't seem to be anywhere to run. Was this some
last-minute scene Tommy had come up with?

Leila put on her foxiest smile, the one she flashed
at all the paparazzi during premieres.

'Hi guys, you looking for autographs or something?'

They stared at her blankly. Surely this crew knew
who she was? Was it conceivable horses wouldn't
know the most famous celebrity of their own kind?
She tried to move off.

'Guys, nice meeting you but I gotta get out of here.
I got a pedicure booked tomorrow.'

She tried to squeeze through but they narrowed the
gap. The black stallion whinnied loudly in horse
language. 'You sound like a two-leg. Speak horse.'

Leila was nervous. Better do what the guy says. She
put on the best throaty, hoarse tone she could muster.
'Okay ... I gotta get out of here, I got a pedicure.'

The black stallion reared, angry, and whinnied
again in horse: 'You think you can mock me? Cut it
out, speak horse!'

Oh, he means
horse
, not hoarse, she realised.

It had been so long since Leila had spoken horse.
She was nervous. She tried to slip into her best
approximation of common horse but only managed a
pathetic whinny. The other horses laughed at her. A
grey mare was particularly cutting. 'What a bimbo!
A two-day-old foal can speak better than that.'

Another horse, who sounded like he'd spent too
much time in the open, taunted, 'Looks like she needs
a few lessons. Let's give her a really good one.'

Now Leila was very scared. The black stallion led
them towards her, nudging her with his muzzle,
forcing her to back up. Maybe a bit of inner city patois
would work? She tried to recall how cool rappers
sounded in their movies.

'Hey, come on, sis, bro! We're all quadrupeds,
right? Let's drop the temperature a little. I got a nice
Prada feedbag back at my trailer. You guys can have it.
Or how about a set of Ferragamo shoes?'

She showed them her horseshoes and grinned her
biggest, friendliest smile. Confident she'd turned
them round, she waited for their response.

They lunged at her.

Leila let out a squeal and started running as fast as
she could towards the other side of the paddock. Why
had she been bewitched by pizza? Why hadn't she
stayed in her trailer? Where was Mr Gold?

She hadn't gone a hundred metres when she started
wheezing. Her legs buckled. That no-neck Feathers
had been right – too much pizza, too little exercise.
Her legs were very wobbly now. Where was a stunt
mare when you needed one?

Suddenly lights struck her full in the face and she
was flooded with relief. Ah ha! It was a trick after all.
Tommy must be back there shooting some night
scene. She hadn't noticed this scene in the script.
Come to think of it, she'd never actually got around to
reading the script this time. Anyway, what did it
matter? She was a star. Now she could tell these
uncouth equines what she really thought of them. She
turned on the grey mare.

'Hey grandma, the feedbag? Forget it. Prada, nada.
As for the shoes, you'll be wearing them all right, right
across your plain, grey muzzle.'

She expected to see Tommy, the cameraman and
the lighting crew but, as the lights grew brighter, she
realised they were just the headlights of a truck. A
very big truck with the words INTERNATIONAL
LIVESTOCK written down one side.

Leila still wasn't worried. It looked like they'd sent
a stretch limousine to pick her up.

Speeding down the road, Ralph couldn't contain his
anger. He shouted at Bobby, who was hunched beside
him.

'You changed the plan?'

The old truck with RALPHS REMOOVALS AND
PLUMMING painted down the side veered to the
wrong side of the road for a moment as Ralph slapped
Bobby with his greasy, duckbill cap.

'Look out!' yelled Bobby.

There was a massive truck heading right at them.
Ralph jerked the wheel just in time to avoid colliding
with the big rig, whose driver angrily honked his horn
at the much smaller truck.

'You're getting upset for nothing,' wailed Bobby.
'Come on, somebody finds a nag in a factory, they
know it's suspicious, but in a paddock? No-one's
going to notice one more horse. You'll thank me
for it.'

But ten minutes later as Bobby and Ralph stood in a
deserted paddock, Ralph was not thanking Bobby. He
was on his knees crying and beating the ground with
his fat fist.

'Why? Why in God's name did I ever have to meet
this imbecile?' he moaned.

Bobby was slowly backing towards the truck. Any
second now Ralph would blow.

'Aaaaaarrrggggh!' There it was. Ralph's mighty
bellow like a wounded bull. Bobby started running,
knowing Ralph would be right behind him ready to
whack him with that duckbill cap.

Meanwhile, the big INTERNATIONAL LIVESTOCK
rig powered along the road and in the back, a certain
glamorous horse was trying some fast-talking.

'Come on, guys, I was joking!'

Leila tried her most winning smile but she might as
well have fired a peashooter at a tank. The grey mare
looked especially unimpressed. The horses moved in
still closer, threatening.

Leila held up a hoof. 'Okay, okay ... I'll give each of
you a Mary-Kate and Ashley CD, personally signed.'

For a moment she thought it had done the trick.
And then the black stallion powered in at her and
somebody trod on her hoof.

'Careful!' she yelped. 'That hoof is worth its weight
in ... Yow!' Some horse had trodden on her other
hoof. She hoped that, wherever they were going, this
trip would be short.

That night, after the Golden Buckle race, Charlotte
and her father were doing the washing up in the small
kitchen of their weatherboard farmhouse. It was
actually Mr Thomas' house but as head stockman,
Charlotte's dad got accommodation as part of his pay.
They'd lived there her whole life. Tonight her dad had
cooked shepherd's pie, her favourite dinner. That
made her feel even more guilty about not having
listened to him before the race. Tonight he seemed
more quiet than usual. She presumed he was annoyed
with her, though he had said nothing more about her
riding tactics and had even given her a double scoop
of rainbow ice-cream.

'A letter arrived for you yesterday.' He said it in an
offhand manner as he methodically rinsed off soap
bubbles. Charlotte felt her stomach contract. There
was only one letter it might be.

'From the JOES?' Being part of the Junior Olympic
Equestrian Squad had been her dream ever since she'd
first learned about it at the Banebago gymkhana a year
ago.

'Uh huh.' He plucked an envelope from the top of
the chugging, noisy old fridge and handed it to her. It
was just a rectangular bit of paper but, to her, it felt as
heavy as a boulder. The contents could make her leap
to the sky with joy or want to crawl into a hole in the
ground and lie there for a month.

'I didn't want to distract you from the race,' her
father was explaining, but she barely heard him. In
truth, she had not ever expected it to come to this.
A man attending the gymkhana had identified himself
as a talent spotter for the JOES, and he'd
recommended Charlotte apply for the introductory
course, a one-month camp held more than a thousand
kilometres to the south of Snake Hills, where
promising young riders were evaluated. At the end of
the camp there were trials, with the best riders offered
a permanent place in the JOES elite development
squad. Over the next two years they would hone their
skills, competing both nationally and internationally.
The very best of these were likely to become
Olympians.

Charlotte's father had helped her fill out the form
and, a few months later, Mr Graham, the head of the
JOES, had flown up to see her ride. He watched her
closely but gave nothing away, informing her she
would hear something within the next six weeks.

And now she held the answer in her hand.
Charlotte stared at the envelope. Nothing to be afraid
of, she told herself. So she wouldn't get chosen, big
deal, this was a good place to live and her father could
teach her everything about being a stockwoman. She
ripped open the envelope.

Her eyes found the line straight away.

Immediately all the strength went from her legs
and she plopped down on a chair. She looked up
wanly at her dad.

'Hey, it's okay. There's always next year.' He stroked
her hair, consoling her.

Her voice was weak and seemed to come from a
long way away. 'I'm in.'

The next week was a blur. The cost of the camp,
which ran during school holidays, was much more
than her dad's savings. Mrs Thomas wouldn't hear of
Charlotte missing out, though. She organised quiz
nights and raffles, and made the whole town chip in.
And now it was almost time to leave. Charlotte stared
at the dry, dusty plain that seemed to stretch on
forever. She felt very empty. She'd miss her dad
terribly, even if it were just for four weeks.

'I'll miss you too, Stormy.' She patted the big
chestnut horse on which she sat. She would even miss
this scorching, hot piece of land. It was more than
home; it was part of her. She knew every dip in the
plain, every rock on the hill and just about every
lizard hiding under those rocks. She would miss her
friends but she supposed she would make new friends
at the riding academy. After all, they were all girls who
loved horses, so they would have that in common.

Charlotte dug her heels into Stormy and felt
exhilaration as the big beautiful beast tore across
the red earth, turning the dead air into a breeze
that danced around her face. This was heaven, this
moment, her body shuddering with each powerful
stride. Here, nothing could touch her. Here she was
complete.

At the cattle yard, Tony Richards saw his daughter
galloping towards him. She was a natural horse-person.
This invitation to try out for a place in
the JOES was a chance in a lifetime and no matter how
much it hurt to be without her, he would not do
anything that might give her cause not to go. Julie
would have been so proud to know their little girl had
been selected for a trial.

This was their last day together before Charlotte left
him for the first time. If she made the elite development
squad then she would spend most of the year away with
the JOES. Even if she didn't, he knew that when she
came back she could be changed forever.

Charlotte came to a halt beside him.

'So what would you like for dinner tonight?' he
asked, already knowing the answer.

Charlotte forked down the last morsel of mince and
potato, realising that she hadn't even thought about
what food they might have at this Thornton Academy,
where she'd be boarding. She hoped they'd have top
food like her dad's shepherd's pie.

'You packed?' her father asked.

'You know I am,' she said.

She saw him smile and realised he'd been teasing
her. She'd packed days ago!

'What I meant was, have you got more things to
pack?'

Charlie didn't normally correct her father. 'No, it's
all done except for my wash-bag.'

He smiled some sort of secret smile and walked out
of the kitchen. When she didn't move he poked his
head back in. 'Come on.'

She joined him in the lounge room. At first she
thought he was holding a shiny tent. Then she
realised it was a satin dress. The awful significance of
it revealed itself before her father even spoke.

'Mrs Henderson made it for you. She said the satin
is very good quality and came from a bridesmaid's
dress. How about that?'

Charlotte swallowed hard. It was horrible. Not
that she knew much about fashion. She'd had some
party dresses when she was little but since then she
had worn only jeans or shorts. As they didn't have
television up here it was difficult to tell what sort of
dresses thirteen-year-old city girls wore but she was
certain they did not resemble this ... thing! In
Rockhampton the nurses had kept bringing in big
glossy magazines for her to read to her mum.
Charlotte had loved the new smell of the shiny
paper. But she'd been disappointed by how pathetic
and soft the girls in the photos had been. They
always had hair like velvet and skin like milk. No
way would they be able to endure a two-week
muster. They did wear pretty dresses, though.

She stared at the shiny sail again and the anxiety
she felt about leaving started to blow up like a willy-willy.

'It's lovely.' She knew this untruth fell into the
category of lies you were allowed to tell. 'But I won't
need it, Dad.'

'Actually, you will.' Her father handed over the
dress. It had a lot of lace tacked around the bottom so
that the overall effect was of a costume for a giant
kewpie doll. 'The letter said you'd need clothes for
social occasions.'

Her anxiety became panic.

'What social occasions?' She hadn't bothered to
read that part of the letter.

'I think they have a party to welcome all you girls.'

Charlotte's panic subsided. That wasn't too bad.

Her father continued. 'And I think there might be a
dance or something with the boys' academy.'

Boys! Oh, no. Charlotte didn't mind working with
boys, she didn't mind playing football or cricket or
softball with boys but
dancing
with them? This was
ridiculous. Wasn't this Thornton Downs place for
learning how to jump and do dressage? What did
dancing have to do with that? Charlotte's history
with boys was patchy to say the least. When Brian
Buchanon thought he'd scare her by putting a snake
in her schoolbag, she reacted in the only way a real
girl could. She belted him in the nose. For the rest of
the day she had to stand staring at the classroom wall.
Not that she minded. Everybody laughed when Brian
walked into the classroom from sick-bay with a big,
stupid bandage around his nose. She would have
stared at a wall a whole week for that moment. Maybe
this dress was karmic payback.

Her father said, 'I'm glad you like your dress. You
better brush your teeth and get to bed. We've got a
long, long drive. Nearly sixteen-hundred k.'

She offered to help with the dishes but her dad
wouldn't hear of it. She reached up and kissed him
goodnight, fighting the urge to cry.

'See you in the morning.'

It was dark when Charlotte woke and checked the
old clock radio by her bed. Two a.m. Three hours
before they left. There was something she needed to
do one last time. She got quietly out of bed and
tiptoed into the lounge room. Making sure the sound
was low, she clicked on the TV and the video player
and then inserted the tape which had inspired her to
want to be a JOE. It showed a beautiful young woman
competing in an equestrian event. The young
woman's face shone with excitement as she moved her
mount effortlessly around the ring. The young
woman was her mum. She'd been competing at the
Royal Show in the city, aged twenty. It was when her
mum and dad had first met. He had been down there
looking after cattle. When her mum's horse escaped,
he recaptured it, riding bareback. They fell in love
instantly. Her mum had told her that story a hundred
times and, even after she became ill, whenever she
told it she always laughed and looked twenty again.

Something inside Charlotte had come alive at
seeing that video of her mother. Everybody always
said what a great rider Charlotte was and she knew
she was fast and could jump as far as any boy, but she
wished she could be as graceful as her mother had
been. Her dad had told her that her mum might have
ridden in the Olympics if she hadn't married him and
moved to the middle of nowhere. This was really why
Charlotte wanted to try out for the JOES – to be like
her mum, to make her proud and pay her back in
some way for what she had given up.