Showjumpers (9 page)

Georgie knew it was true. She just hoped that the day would come soon when James Kirkwood could no longer break her heart.

G
eorgie’s alarm went off at five-thirty a.m. on Saturday. She could hear the groans from Alice in the bed opposite her as she struggled to get up.

“How does Tara expect us to train at six-thirty in the morning?” Alice whined as the two girls dragged themselves to the bathroom.

The bathrooms in Badminton House were massive – there were eight showers to accommodate the forty girls who lived there. But there was no queue for the showers at this hour.

On the outside, Badminton House was a gracious old building, two-storeys high, painted pale blue with scarlet trim around the door and window frames like the ribbons on a Southern Belle’s gown. The showjumping squad members gathered on the front veranda and Georgie, Alice and Daisy waited while Kendal, Amy and Karen pulled on their boots – and then the six girls headed for the stables to saddle up for more training.

It was still dark and as they walked up the driveway, the girls pulled the sleeves of their school jerseys down over their fingers to keep warm, their breath making little puffs of steam in the chilly air.

Even on a Saturday at Blainford, students were meant to wear uniforms if they were on the school grounds. For training, the Badminton House girls wore their usual navy school jodhpurs, navy Blainford school jerseys and polo shirts in their house colours, the same brilliant scarlet as the trim on the windows of Badminton House.

Georgie was the only team member riding a school horse, and so, while the others headed into the stables to get their horses out of the loose boxes, Georgie grabbed her halter out of the tack room and walked to the paddock to catch Belle. The mare had been rolling as usual and even with her rug on she had managed to get herself completely covered in mud. Georgie only had enough time to give her a brisk brush to remove the worst of it and get Belle’s saddle on as Tara was already waiting in the arena.

“Let’s talk team tactics again,” Tara said. “I’m glad I decided not to discuss anything in the arena in front of Heath and his boys on Monday, because I’ve just seen the draw for the knockout round. We’re going to be competing against Burghley House.”

There was a collective groan from the squad. Burghley were possibly the toughest opponents in the entire competition.

“This means our tactics have to change,” Tara told the girls. “If we had drawn a team like Stars of Pau then I’d have said we could win by concentrating on getting good, solid clear rounds. But against Burghley, such a conservative approach won’t work. They’ll go clear and beat us on time faults, unless we can outwit them at their own game.”

She eyed up the six riders in front of her. “Those of you who do not have your back protectors on, I need you to return to the stables and get changed. We’re about to practise speed circuits and I want you all in full body armour.”

While Amy and Kendal went to get their back protectors, the other riders warmed up, doing serpentines along the length of the arena while Tara set up the jumps. She was erecting a line of seven fences down the middle of the arena, just as she’d done at their Wednesday session. There was a double stride in between each jump.

As Kendal and Amy came back to join them, Tara called the girls to her. “I want you to ride the grid – but I only want you to go over every second jump. So jump a fence, then steer your horse around the next one, jump the one after that, and so on.”

She looked at the riders. “One at time, please – Kendal, you first.”

As Kendal dodged and weaved her way through the jumps, Tara yelled out instructions. “Swerve around the fence smoothly. Don’t yank your horse around,” she told Kendal. “Make the lines smooth and accurate. Aim for the centre of the jump. Now swerve again! Excellent!”

At first, the riders found it hard. Amy had trouble when Sandy refused at the second jump. “You didn’t have enough impulsion! Make it clear when you are intending to jump,” Tara told her. “Legs on! That’s better.”

Tara let the riders go through at their own speed twice each and then she put the pressure on.

“I’m timing you,” she told them. “Keep jumping every second fence and maintain your rhythm, watch your canter leads, but go as fast as you can. This is against the clock.”

In her first speed dash through the jumps, Daisy came to grief. Her Irish Hunter Village Voice was a long-backed horse, which meant he had a big jump in him, but was hard to steer around the turns at top speed. When Daisy turned in too tight on jump number three, Village Voice decided he didn’t want to go and veered out dramatically to the side instead. Daisy went flying. Her body landed hard against the coloured rails, knocking the top two to the ground as she fell.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, getting up quickly and dusting herself off. Fortunately, the back protector had shielded her from the worst of the fall – without it she would probably have ended up with a couple of broken ribs. Instead, she was straight back on Village Voice and this time she was prepared in plenty of time before the jump, making sure that she didn’t repeat her mistake.

Tara drilled her squad vigorously over the jumps, not cutting the girls any slack for their mistakes, making sure that they kept their horses on form the whole time. When Belle got a little lax with her hind legs and took a rail out three times in a row, Tara responded by raising all the fences by almost half a metre each.

“She’s not respecting the jumps because they’re too low for her to bother with,” Tara reasoned. “Come through again, Georgie.”

Once the fences were big enough, Belle flew them without putting a hoof out of place.

It was 8 a.m. – they had been training solidly for an hour and a half – when Tara finally looked down at her watch and declared that it was time to call it a day.

“Nice work, girls; go and give your horses a wash-down,” Tara told them.

“A wash-down?” Alice flopped over William’s neck and slid to the ground to lead him out of the arena. “I think I need a lie-down first! That just about killed me!”

“There’s no time for lie-downs,” Georgie groaned. “We need to hurry to the dining hall before breakfast finishes.”

They were walking to the gates of the arena, when they saw a group of riders heading towards them.

“It looks like Adelaide House is also having an early training session,” Daisy said.

“Is that Hans Schockelmann with them?” Georgie asked.

The legendary showjumping superstar, whose employment as team coach had caused so much controversy, was tall, leggy and lean as a cat. He was dressed in khaki breeches and brown leather boots and he had way too much gel in his strawberry blonde hair.

As he strode purposefully across the arena, Georgie remembered what Alice had told her – the rumour about Hans dumping Tara Kelly before the School Formal all those years ago. She watched as Hans caught sight of their instructor. There was something about his forced grin and the theatrical way he threw his arms open in greeting that made it clear he was trying too hard.

“Tara! Tara Kelly!” Hans gushed. “How long has it been? Twenty years? They said you’d changed since then – and they were right. Just look at you!”

“Hello, Hans,” Tara replied coolly. “We’ve just finished with the arena. It’s all yours.”

Hans wasn’t going to be deterred. He lunged forward to clasp Tara in an embrace and give her a kiss on the cheek, but Tara swerved to the side. She ducked under his arms, and without giving him a second look, she strode out of the arena.

“So,” Alice said as she watched their instructor storm off towards the stable block, “I’m guessing that the rumour about Hans and Tara is true.”

Daisy nodded. “It looks like we have another reason for wanting to beat Adelaide House now.”

Georgie stared over at Kennedy and Arden, who were mounted up beside Hans. “I already have two good reasons,” she replied. “Come on, let’s go get some breakfast. I’m starved.”

On Sunday, Georgie rode Belle down the driveway and along the main avenue, lined on both sides with oak trees and black post-and-rail fences, until she reached the wrought-iron front gates of Blainford Academy. Here she turned to the left and headed down the road that led towards Pleasant Hill and Clemency Farm.

Riley was in the yard when she arrived. “So how have you and Belle been getting along this week?”

He stepped forward to stroke the mare on her dark muzzle.

“Pretty good,” Georgie said. “We’re doing really well in showjumping.”

Riley led the way through the stables to the round pen. “We’ll start in here again today. You can keep your reins this time,” he smiled.

Georgie no longer felt resistant to Riley’s methods and she spent the next hour really listening and trying to do what Riley said, even though it often seemed to be the complete opposite to her own instinct. Whenever Belle surged forward and she wanted to snatch at the reins, Riley would tell her to stay still and quiet. If she took her legs off, Riley would tell her to put them on again. He didn’t focus on the horse but spent all his time telling Georgie how to improve her position and relax in the saddle. “Some people like to fix horses,” Riley explained. “I always say if you can fix the rider then the horse will be just fine.”

Georgie was really pleased with her progress, and had been expecting a little more enthusiasm from Riley. But he seemed like he wasn’t entirely happy.

“You’re still thinking the wrong way,” he told Georgie. “You think you need to hold this mare back, but what you really need to learn to do is let go.”

“But Riley,” Georgie argued, “it’s OK to let go in a round pen, but on the cross-country course she’ll just bolt!”

“Well, maybe you should let her!” Riley said, looking totally serious. “Georgie, when you’ve got a hot-headed horse like this one you can use up all their energy and your own by fighting them. By the time they get to the end of the cross-country they’re exhausted and they’ve got no strength left for jumping the final fences. That’s when you’re putting yourself and your horse in danger. It’s better to let go and stay with them.”

“Yeah,” Georgie sighed. “That’s easy to say, but out there on the course when there’s a fence right in front of you that’s as big as a house, it’s only natural to want to pull up…”

“I get that,” Riley agreed. “It can be hard to let them gallop and…”

He looked at Georgie. “Hey, you know what? If you need galloping practice you should come and ride with me at Keeneland.”

“You mean on the racetrack?”

“Sure,” Riley said. “You could come and exercise the horses with me. It’ll give you a chance to open up the throttle for once.”

“You expect me to ride in one of those crazy, tiny little saddles with my knees tucked up to my armpits?”

“What’s the matter?” Riley teased. “Are you scared?”

“No!” Georgie insisted.

“Great,” Riley said. “Then I’ll see you at the track.”

Georgie had no idea how late it was getting until she noticed the sun sinking in the sky and the clouds on the horizon turning apricot and gold. As she turned down the road that led to the main gates of Blainford, she began to panic. On weekends all boarders had to be back at Blainford by five p.m. when the main gates were locked. What if she was too late already? She pressed Belle into a trot, her heart racing. She had no idea what she would do if they were locked out.

Georgie knew they were getting closer to the school boundary when the fencelines beside the road suddenly changed from white post-and-rail to black. Keeping the rails alongside her, she cantered on the grass verge beside the road until she reached a grove of trees known as the Drover’s Dell. The paths through the dell were narrow, which meant that she had to trot from here, but it was a short cut of sorts. When she finally emerged back out the other side, she could now see the pale blue wrought-iron school gates ahead of her.

Georgie’s heart soared when she saw there was a prefect at the gates. He must be locking up for the night!

“Wait!” Georgie yelled out. “Wait for me!”

She trotted along the tarmac towards the gates, waving. Georgie couldn’t believe her luck – making it back just in time. She could see the boy had his head lowered, working the keys in the gate lock to let her in.

“Thanks,” she called out. “I’m really sorry. I was running late…”

And then Georgie saw who it was.

Conrad Miller gave the lock a final twist and then removed his keys. He looked down at his watch.

“Five minutes past five,” he said icily. “Gates are closed at five p.m.”

Georgie pleaded, but Conrad was deaf to her cries as he turned his horse and rode back up the avenue towards the school, leaving Georgie sitting there, stunned, exhausted and locked out of Blainford for the night.

S
tuck outside the gates, Georgie rode up and down the fenceline and considered her options. She could try riding back to Clemency Farm, but it was getting dark and she didn’t have any reflective gear or a torch so it wouldn’t be safe on the roads. She didn’t have a phone or any way of contacting anyone. There was nothing to do but stay here and wait.

Two hours later she was beginning to give up hope when a car finally pulled up at the gates. Georgie and Belle were caught in the headlights and a few moments later the door of the Chevrolet swung open, and then she heard a familiar voice in the darkness. “Georgie? Is that you?”

“Kenny!” Georgie was so relieved to see him.

“What are you doing out here at this time of night?”

“I got locked out.”

“Well, what did you go and do that for?” Kenny shook his head as he stepped up to the wrought-iron gates, producing a ring of keys from his pocket.

“You better lead your horse and follow me,” Kenny told her once they were inside. “It’s too dark to ride.”

Kenny drove at a crawl, his headlights illuminating the path as Georgie led Belle alongside her. It took ages to get back to the stables, but Georgie was just grateful to be through the gates and back on Blainford grounds. She knew she’d be in trouble. It was against the rules for a student to be out past the five o’clock curfew. Conrad had no doubt already put her name down for fatigues and she would be forced to do some humiliating task like cleaning the school toilets. At least Kenny didn’t seem interested in taking her to task. He even offered to look after Belle when they arrived at the stables. “I’ll feed her and turn her out. You get back to your boarding house and let them know you’re OK. They’ll be getting worried about you,” he insisted.

If Georgie was hoping to slip back into Badminton House unnoticed, she was out of luck. Mrs Birdwell, her house mistress, was waiting on the doorstep with Mrs Dubois.

“I’m sorry, I’m a bit late,” was all Georgie could offer.

“Miss Parker,” Mrs Dubois said. “Two hours is more than ‘a bit'. Weekend leave at Blainford is a privilege, not a right…”

“But Conrad Miller locked me out on purpose. I was only five minutes late to the gates!”

Mrs Dubois held up her hand. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. Rules are rules. I’m letting you off with a warning, Miss Parker, but next time you will have all your leave cancelled and a letter will be sent home to your father. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, Mrs Dubois.”

Once she was inside, the Badminton House girls swarmed around to find out what had happened.

“Typical Conrad!” Alice fumed. “I bet he loved locking the gates on you.” She turned to her sister. “I can’t believe you used to go out with him.”

“It was, like, two dates!” Kendal objected. “It’s not like he was my boyfriend.” She hated to be reminded of the fact that she had briefly been keen on Conrad, so Alice got great pleasure out of bringing it up.

“Don’t get mad with him,” was Daisy’s advice. “Get even.”

On Saturday they were up against Burghley in the knockout round. If Georgie wanted to even the score with Conrad then she would get her chance – in the showjumping arena.

The week that followed was plagued by patchy autumn weather. At cross-country on Monday afternoon the rain was so torrential that the class was a disaster. Tara had planned to work on arrowhead combinations, but after Belle and Georgie did an awful mud slide, mistiming the jump and crashing right into a narrow fence, Tara decided to call it quits.

“I’m not risking riders and horses right before the House Showjumping,” she told the class.

For the rest of the week most classes were held in the indoor arena to try and preserve the outdoor arenas from getting too churned up. Even so, by Friday morning the sand surfaces were still soggy underfoot.

“You’ll need to put large studs in your horses’ shoes to help with their grip,” Tara told her team as they tacked up that morning. “I don’t want any of you sliding over – that could lose us the competition.”

Tara didn’t even try to disguise her comment as concern for their safety – all she was worried about was winning.

“Gather round, girls,” Tara told them. “I want to have a quick talk about tactics.”

The girls formed a circle around Tara, sitting down on the stack of hay bales at the end of the stables.

“Do you all understand how the scoring system works today?” Tara asked. “You’ll be racing the clock and trying for a clear round. There are six of you, but only the five best scores will be added up to give us our team tally. That means one of the scores – the worst one, obviously – gets discarded from the final total.” The girls nodded that they understood.

“As I’ve said before,” Tara continued, “Burghley will aim for clear rounds, so if the score is tied, this competition will be won or lost on time faults. It’s imperative that we come out and dominate the competition right from the start.”

Tara looked at the girls. “Kendal, I’m putting you up first. You have the most experience, so I want you to go in there as our trailblazer. It’s your job to figure out where the problems on this course lie and pass on that knowledge to the team. I expect all of you to listen to her advice once she comes out of the arena.”

The girls nodded.

“Alice, you’ll follow Kendal. Will is a very safe jumper. I need you to get points on the board. Your aim will be to go clear – don’t push your luck for the sake of speed. Daisy, you will follow her and do the same – Village Voice is not built for speedy turns so don’t take too many risks. The main thing I’m looking for is safe clear rounds.”

Tara turned to Amy and Karen. “If the other girls put in solid clear rounds ahead of you, then it is time for you to deliver the speed. I want both of you to go around that course as fast as you can.”

Georgie raised her hand nervously. “Ummm, Tara? What about me?”

Tara turned to her. “You’re the last to go, Georgie. When the time comes, I’ll tell you what to do.”

As the girls finished saddling up, Georgie felt a tight knot growing in her belly. So much was riding on this sudden-death knockout – and she would be riding last! She could feel the weight of expectation from Tara, her House and her team mates.

Alone in the loose box with Belle, she did a final check on her gear, making sure her girth was tight enough, checking the noseband on her bridle.

She spoke softly to the mare as she worked, Belle’s ears swivelling back and forth, as if she was listening to every word. Georgie had already spent hours grooming her that morning. She had plaited the mare’s jet-black mane in tight rosettes and bound them with white tape to match the white bandages on Belle’s legs. The contrast against the bay mare’s black points was dramatic.

“She looks gorgeous,” Alice said as she met up with Georgie in the stables.

“William does too,” Georgie said. Alice hadn’t plaited Will’s mane, but it was freshly pulled so that it was short and erect like the plume on a Roman centurion’s helmet and she had gamgee bandaged his legs too.

Daisy walked up to join the two girls. “Tara is waiting for us beside the arena,” she told them. “She’s ready to walk the course.”

Georgie nodded nervously and Alice took a deep breath. “Let’s do it,” she said.

There were three outdoor arenas and each of them had a jumping course erected with flags in the house colours of the competing teams at the gates. Adelaide House’s pink flags flew beside the purple of Stars of Pau at arena number one. Lexington versus Luhmuhlen had their yellow and black flags flying at number two. And Burghley and Badminton would be competing in arena three – the scarlet of Badminton House standing out against the ice blue of Burghley’s banner.

“Riders,” Mrs Dickins-Thomson addressed the assembled teams. “You have twenty minutes to walk the course.”

The girls strode into the arena with Tara leading the way on foot, walking through the exact route she expected them to follow, stepping out the correct number of strides to take between fences.

There were twelve jumps in the course, all between a metre-twenty and a metre-thirty in height. They were substantial fences – “big enough to cause trouble” as Tara put it. As they walked around together, short cuts and tactics were talked about in whispery voices. They had to be careful what they said as the Burghley boys, led by Heath Brompton, were also walking the course at the same time.

Georgie tried to keep her eyes on the jumps, to focus her attention on what Tara was telling her, but it wasn’t easy. As she walked around the jumps she was aware of James Kirkwood’s eyes following her. He was flanked on either side by Conrad Miller and Andrew Hurley. Their stares gave Georgie the creeps, which was probably the intention. When she saw Damien Danforth, she gave him a smile and he muttered hello to her. It was enough to rile Conrad, who began making squawking noises at Damien. “Seagull!” she heard Conrad sneer at Damien. “Caw! Caw!” She saw Damien’s expression darken while Andrew and Conrad fell about laughing.

Suddenly Georgie heard someone calling out her name.

“Hey, Parker.”

She turned around and saw James Kirkwood. He’d broken away from his group of boys and was walking towards her. He was wearing his white showjumping breeches and ice-blue polo shirt, and the colours made his tanned skin and blond hair look amazing. He stood right in front of her and Georgie felt her heart beating like crazy. What did James want? Why was he talking to her all of a sudden?

“Hey, uhhh, I, ummm, wanted to ask you a question,” James said.

Georgie tried to act cool, but her voice wavered as she replied, “W-what sort of question?”

“I wanted to know if anyone had asked you to the School Formal,” James said. Georgie was transfixed by his eyes. James Kirkwood was so handsome. She’d nearly forgotten just how gorgeous he was.

“No…” she managed to get the word out, “no one’s asked me yet.”

She looked at him and held her breath. “Why?”

James smiled, but there was something different about the grin this time. Something she hadn’t seen before.

“Oh, no reason,” he said. “Conrad was wondering if you’d managed to scrape up a date.” And with that he turned his back. “Enjoy the competition!”

There were snorts of laughter and Georgie looked over to see Conrad and Andrew Hurley falling about the place as if they’d just witnessed something hilarious. Conrad muttered something to James and then gave him a high five as he looked at Georgie. They’d sent James over just to rattle her!

“Ignore them.” Georgie heard Daisy hiss in her ear, then felt her team mate’s hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her away. “Don’t let them put you off. They’re only messing with you because they know that we can beat them.”

Georgie was shaking by the time she reached the sidelines and mounted up on Belle.

“Are you OK?” Alice asked her. “Is Conrad being a jerk again?”

“I’m fine,” Georgie said. “I just wish they’d leave me alone.”

They were interrupted by the sound of a bell ringing and Tara Kelly calling out, “Kendal! You’re up first! Into the arena now!”

Over the next half-hour, Tara’s theory worked perfectly. The Burghley riders had been planning to dominate the competition by being the fastest around the course, but when Kendal Dupree slam-dunked a clear round in a very tight time of one minute and forty-three seconds, the boys suddenly realised they had a different type of contest on their hands.

Damien Danforth was the first rider up for Burghley and Georgie had been pleased for his sake when he went clear as well, only slightly behind Kendal’s time at one minute and forty-seven seconds.

Riding in positions two and three, Alice and Daisy stuck to the game plan. They both rode safe, clear rounds and put points on the board, but their times were much slower than Kendal’s. Still, they were more than holding their own against Burghley. Andrew Hurley had a very fast time, going like a bat out of hell around the jumps, but he dropped a rail for four faults. Nicholas Laurent did the same, going far too fast and dropping more rails for another eight faults.

Badminton House had the advantage as Amy entered the arena. She tipped her hat to the judges and waited for the bell, then pushed her horse through the flags at a brisk canter. But right from the very start you could see that she wasn’t on form. Sandhurst Debonair virtually ran through the first fence, mistiming it and taking the jump on a bad stride, knocking down three rails.

“That’s still only four faults,” Alice pointed out. “Burghley have twelve so far.”

Unfortunately, Burghley’s twelve were about to be surpassed. Amy took out the top rails on another three fences for an abysmal score of sixteen.

“I’m so sorry.” She was almost in tears as she met her team mates on the sidelines. “I don’t know what went wrong!”

“You had a bad day,” Tara said. “It happens to all of us. Don’t dwell on it. We’re still in with a good chance.”

Georgie knew what Tara was thinking. She still had two riders to come. With any luck both Karen and Georgie would go clear, and then they could discard Amy’s score. The girls watched with knots in their bellies as the fourth Burghley rider also put in a poor round for a massive twelve faults. His score would be discarded for sure.

“Good luck, Karen!” The Badminton House team were yelling their support as Karen Lockhart rode into the arena on Rolling Rock. But it was not to be Karen’s day either. Rolling Rock took a strange dislike to fence number three, the bright orange-coloured rails with a white picket fence used at the base as fill. The mare refused point-blank to jump the first time, and when she refused a second time despite Karen’s desperate urgings, the bell was rung. Elimination!

On the sidelines, the Badminton House girls all worked it out. Karen’s elimination meant that she would be the discard score and so Amy’s sixteen faults would be included in their final tally. They were sitting on a score of at least sixteen, no matter what. The girls had their hearts in their mouths as Conrad Miller rode into the arena.

“Where’s a voodoo doll when you need one?” Alice groaned as she watched Conrad going clear over fence after fence. Georgie didn’t want to be a bad sport, but as she watched Conrad all she could think was that she wished a rail would fall. Just one lousy rail.