The Auditions Read online

  “No, but you trained him. You’ve schooled Tyro well and it shows. He’s a credit to you.”

  Olivia was totally smitten. “He is the most amazing pony,” she gushed to Georgie. “I know I’m being really cheeky saying this but if you ever decide to sell Tyro, will you please call me? I’d love to buy him!”

  After Olivia went clear, the floodgates opened and by Georgie’s turn to ride there had been five clear rounds. To make the top three Georgie not only had to go clear, she also had to get a quick-smart time to beat the others on the clock.

  It was a fine line to tread. If she went hell for leather then she risked making a mistake. All it would take was a single refusal or a rail down to totally blow herchances. But if she went too cautiously she might lose on time faults.

  As she entered the arena Georgie urged Caprice into a steady canter and stood up in her stirrups in two-point position. She rode a lap around the fences, mentally mapping her route between the jumps. So far, no one had taken the shortcut that she’d been planning to take on Tyro. Should she risk it on an unknown horse or aim for a safe, clear round and hope her time would be good enough?

  This time she heard the bell ring loud and clear. With a tip of her hat to the selectors, she rode one last lap around the perimeter and then came through the flags like a rocket. The clock was ticking. She had to go clear and make every second count.

  Georgie rode at the first fence with almost too much energy and Caprice took off from too far back with a huge stride. Her hind legs scraped the rail and Georgie heard the crowd go “ohhh!” as the pole rocked in its cups. But it didn’t fall. She steadied the mare and took her time over the next few fences. Through the treble one… two … three! Georgie had got the striding perfecton the jumps but she sensed that their time was far too slow. There were only two fences left. If Georgie wanted to beat the other clear rounds, she had to go for the shortcut.

  Over number eight she had to virtually twist Caprice in mid-air, so that the mare landed at an angle. There was a gasp from the crowd as they realised what Georgie was doing and another as Caprice nearly hit a fence as she swerved to the right. Then, suddenly, the last jump loomed right in front of Georgie. She would almost have to jump it sideways to make it over.

  Georgie took a deep breath and kicked on. Caprice put in one last stride and then lifted up into the air. There was a choked silence from the crowd. Would she get over? The turn had been so tight it seemed like an impossible leap.

  Georgie had judged it like a pro! Caprice flew the fence with room to spare. As she landed on the other side the wild applause told Georgie all she needed to know. She had done it. Georgie was on her way to the finals.

  Chapter Five

  The crowd in the grandstand of Birmingham’s NEC Arena was buzzing with a sense of anticipation. They had already marvelled at the thrills and spills of the scurry races, and gasped at the fantastic Lipizzaner stunt horses performing Swan Lake.

  “We do hope you’ve enjoyed the entertainment so far,” announcer Mike Partridge warbled to the audience. “Now it’s time for the main event. You’re about to see the very best young talent in Britain take the ride of their lives. It’s the grand final of the Blainford Academy auditions!”

  The crowd gave a cheer and Mike Partridge continued his introduction. “The riders performing for us today are no older than thirteen years of age. All have passedrigorous tests to prove they’re the best in their chosen field. We’ve got eventers and showjumpers, polo players and dressage riders and we’ve even got a Western rider and natural horsemanship star making an appearance!

  “Twenty young hopefuls competing for just five places. It’s the competition of a lifetime for these kids.” Mike Partridge paused. “We’ll meet the first of our twenty finalists in just a moment, but before we do that, let me introduce you to our selectors!”

  Three giant spotlights flashed on to the arena, tracing circles of light across the golden sand before concentrating on the three judges sitting at the selectors’ table at the far end of the arena.

  “Our first selector is a household name–winner of countless Horse of the Year titles, a showjumping superstar and the glamour girl of the British Olympic equestrian squad–it’s the one and only Helen Nicholson!”

  The crowd cheered louder than ever as a very beautiful woman with dark brown hair, big brown eyes and a warm smile got up to give them a wave.

  “Our next selector,” Mike Partridge began, “is ananimal behaviourist whose books on horse training have sold millions. He’s also an Australian–but don’t hold that against him! Ladies and gentlemen–it’s Dr David McGee!” A handsome grey-haired man stood up and waved to the crowd who clapped politely.

  “And finally,” Mike Partridge continued, “a woman who needs no introduction. Blainford’s senior selector is an international eventing superstar and a four-times winner of the Lexington Horse Trials. She’s a serious horsewoman–I should know, I’ve been trying all morning to get her to smile! Let’s give her a round of applause and see if she’ll give us a grin. Please welcome Tara Kelly!”

  Tara Kelly gritted her teeth at the announcer’s sense of humour. Although it was her job to judge the finals, she had never really got used to the crowds, the lights and the theatrics that came with the event. Over the years, Blainford’s auditions had become more and more spectacular and grand finals night was now so renowned, it had become one of the most exciting events on the British equestrian calendar. All a bit over the top in Tara Kelly’s opinion, but despite herreservations she went along with it because as Blainford’s headmistress, Mrs Dickins-Thomson, pointed out to her, it was brilliant publicity for the school.

  “C’mon, Tara, give us a wave, luv!” Mike Partridge coaxed and Tara rose from her seat and grinned and waved at the crowds in the stands. They were here to see a show after all.

  Besides, in some ways the three-ring circus that had grown up around the event was a good thing, Tara reasoned. It added to the pressure and gave the twenty candidates waiting backstage a very real taste of what life was like under the spotlight. If you really wanted to be an international horse-riding superstar then these final auditions were a good test of character. Could the twenty riders all stay cucumber-cool when thousands were watching them and Mike Partridge was singing their praises over the loudspeaker?

  Until now, the auditions had been divided into separate categories for eventers, showjumpers, dressage riders and so on. But the finals brought all the different disciplines together. With so many differentkinds of riders auditioning, it wouldn’t be fair to rely on a single test to compare their skills. Instead, each of the twenty riders was required to create a freestyle performance. They would all have fifteen minutes in the arena and the selectors would cast votes with score cards.

  Tara trusted her fellow judges. Helen and David were both experienced and had done the job alongside her before. She would listen carefully to their opinions but at the end of the day they knew that the final choice would always be hers.

  “You’ve met our three selectors,” Mike Partridge called out. “Now, let’s meet our first finalist. She’s a dressage rider from Dundee and at only eleven years old she’s one of the youngest competitors today. She’s going to be performing a freestyle dressage kur for us on her lovely pony The Cheshire Cat. Here she is, Miss Sally Stevens!”

  The music began, the lights came up and a very pretty skewbald pony entered the ring. He flew down the centre of the arena in a floating, extended trot and then halted in front of the judges. His rider, a slightlybuilt girl in a blue showing jacket and banana jods, gave a stiff salute and then set off again at a collected canter.

  Backstage, hidden by large black screens from the view of the audience, nineteen young riders watched Sally anxiously and waited for their turn in the spotlight.

  “Are you nervous?” Olivia hissed. She was standing beside Georgie, gripping on to Molly’s reins and looking terrified.

  “Uh-huh,” Georgie said. She was trying to s
tay focused, but it wasn’t easy because her dad had dropped a bombshell about her future.

  Over dinner the weekend before the grand finals Georgie was telling her dad about her plans for the performance. “We’ve come up with something superspecial to grab the selectors’ attention,” she said.

  “Mmmm,” her father nodded absentmindedly.

  Georgie rolled her eyes. “Tyro is going to wear a ballerina tutu and we’ll be doing a tango. It’s Strictly Come Dancing except with ponies.”

  “That’s great, honey.”

  “Dad! I was totally joking! Are you even listening to me? Do you care that I’m in the finals?”

  This was so typical! It was the most exciting thing to happen to her ever, and her father hardly seemed to be paying attention.

  “I’m sorry, Georgie,” Dr Parker sighed, “I… The thing is … we need to talk.”

  “Uh-oh,” Georgie said. “Is this going to be a serious conversation?”

  Dr Parker wasn’t smiling. “It’s about the auditions. And yes, it’s serious I’m afraid.” Georgie’s face fell. “I know you’ve got your heart set on going to Blainford,” her dad began, “but the fees are steep, Georgie, it’s a very expensive private school.”

  “I know that,” Georgie’s voice had an edge of panic, “but Mum already put the money aside years ago. You told me she did!”

  “Yes, that’s true,” her dad said.

  “So what’s the problem?” Georgie asked.

  Her dad hesitated, and then finally spoke. “She put aside your fees. But she didn’t put aside enough for Tyro.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean there’s no money for your horse to go with you,” Dr Parker said.

  “How much does it cost?”

  “Ten thousand a term–and that’s just for Tyro’s board. Then there’s the shipping costs of transporting him to Lexington.” Dr Parker shook his head. “I’m a country GP, Georgie, not some Harley Street physician. We just don’t have that kind of money.”

  “This is because you don’t want me to go, isn’t it?” Georgie couldn’t help herself, she was so upset she was shaking. “You’ve never wanted me to go to Blainford! And now I’ve qualified for the finals, and this is just your way of wiggling out of it!”

  “I can understand why you’d think that, Georgie, but it simply isn’t true. And that’s not what I’m saying. You can go to Blainford.” Dr Parker looked at his daughter. “But if you go, Georgie, it will be without Tyro.”

  “She’s brilliant, isn’t she?” Olivia hissed to Georgie, shaking her back to reality. Sally Stevens and The

  Cheshire Cat had nearly finished their performance. They floated across the arena in a lovely canter and performed several perfect flying changes, completed their display with a very tidy piaffe, saluting in front of the judges. The crowd went wild with applause.

  “What a marvellous performance!” Mike Partridge enthused. “Come on then, Helen Nicholson! Let’s hear your thoughts.”

  Helen grinned at Sally who was pink-cheeked and exhausted. “That was brilliant!” she said brightly in a thick Yorkshire accent. “Great half-passes, a really super extended trot and your pony was looking through the bridle the whole time.” She lifted up her score card. “I’m giving you an eight!” The crowd cheered.

  “David McGee,” said the announcer, “can we have your score please?”

  “I liked the way you and your pony were working together. Nice paces, nice attitude, you really had him on the bit the whole time,” David McGee said as he raised his number. “I loved it and I’m giving you anine!” The crowd whooped even louder. Then Tara Kelly cleared her throat and spoke into her microphone.

  “Sally,” she said coolly, “dressage is supposed to be graceful. Your performance felt a bit rushed and almost jerky to me.”

  The crowd went silent. A couple of people booed as Sally’s cheery smile began to droop. But Tara continued.

  “Not enough energy, not enough presence. I felt like the whole performance lacked impulsion and oomph …”

  There were more boos now and a woman in the crowd shouted out defiantly, “We love you, Sally!” Tara Kelly ignored her and finished what she had to say. “You’re eleven years old, and it shows. You need another year under your belt before you audition again. This will not be your year, Sally.” Tara held up her score card. “I’m giving you a five.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen–love her or loathe her, Tara Kelly is our own Simon Cowell, isn’t she?” Mike Partridge tried to lighten the mood. “She’s given a score of five for little Sally! Now the competition really getsserious as competitor number two enters the arena. She’s a natural horsemanship disciple all the way from Herefordshire. Put your hands together for Lauren White!”

  Lauren White rode her blanket-spotted Appaloosa into the arena bareback. She had no bridle either, instead she guided the Appaloosa with nothing more than a thin rope cord lashed around the horse’s neck.

  “Wow!” Olivia said. “I want to see this.”

  Georgie shook her head. “We don’t have time to watch her. We have to go!”

  Georgie wasn’t a circus performer or a stunt rider. When she found out that she would have to perform a routine she was stumped. How could she capture the selectors’ attention and show off her skills? She was thrilled when Olivia phoned her up with a suggestion.

  “Maybe we could perform together,” Olivia told her. “We could do some sort of double act.”

  “Is that allowed?” Georgie asked.

  “Absolutely–I checked the rules,” Olivia confirmed. “Two of us in the arena will make a bigger impression.

  If we could figure out some sort of synchronised routine it could be really cool!”

  Georgie thought about it. In fact, she realised that she had a brilliant idea for their performance! Olivia loved it and immediately agreed.

  So on the week before the Birmingham finals, Georgie and Lucinda loaded Tyro into the horse lorry and moved him from Little Brampton to Olivia’s home in Northampton. The two girls would spend the week at Olivia’s house, training like mad to perfect their routine.

  Olivia had told Georgie there would be good facilities at her place, but Georgie was shocked when she arrived.

  “Ohmygod! You live here?” Georgie said when Olivia opened the door. “I thought I’d pressed the doorbell on Balmoral Castle by mistake.”

  “Sorry,” Olivia said, letting her in. “I should have warned you, our house is a bit over the top.”

  The Prescotts’ house was one of the grandest mansions in Northampton, a vast stately residence on over a thousand acres of farmland. The red brick househad eleven bedrooms and a guest cottage where Georgie and Lucinda would stay for the week. Out the back of the main house was an elegant stable block and a huge, landscaped training manege.

  Olivia seemed pleasantly oblivious to her family’s wealth. As far as she was concerned, all that mattered was horses. She adored Molly almost as much as Georgie loved Tyro. And she worked hard at her riding too. For the entire week it was nothing but long hours of training. And now their time had finally arrived.

  In the arena at the Birmingham NEC four finalists had been and gone and not a single one had been given decent points by Blainford’s chief selector. Tara’s highest mark so far had been a grudging six.

  “Let’s hope that the next two girls have better luck!” Mike Partridge said breezily. “These riders only just met a week ago at the showjumping semi-finals in Cirencester. Since then, they’ve become firm friends and will perform together in the arena for us today. You’re about to witness something very special,” he continued. “The tandem puissance!”

  In the arena, three jumps had been built. There wasan upright rail jump constructed from blue striped poles and an oxer made from red ones. Far bigger than both of these fences however, was an enormous wall in the centre of the ring, constructed from giant wooden blocks painted to look like brick.

  “You all know the drill, ladies an
d gentlemen!” Mike Partridge trilled. “That brick wall is the big one. It’s going to get higher and higher every time they jump it.”

  Most of the audience had seen an ordinary puissance before. But this was puissance with a difference. “Normally the wall is jumped one rider at a time. But today these two young riders are trying a daredevil feat. They’re going to attempt a dual jump, riding together over the puissance wall!”

  There was a gasp of astonishment from the crowd and even Tara Kelly suddenly sat bolt upright and alert.

  “Are the jump stewards ready?” Mike Partridge asked. “Excellent! Then please welcome our two daredevil finalists. Olivia Prescott and Georgina Parker!”

  Barrelling into the arena at a spanking canter, came Olivia and Georgie. They had plaited red ribbons into Molly and Tyro’s manes and tails so that the palomino and the black pony matched each other beautifully. Both were the same size, fourteen-two, and it was fairly easy for the girls to keep the horses neck and neck as they cantered briskly around the perimeter.

  They had been practising so hard it came as second nature to keep their ponies in perfect time with each other. Tyro, who had the slightly bigger stride, was ridden on the outside, while Olivia kept the pressure on Molly to keep pace with the black gelding.

  After a lap to say hello to the crowds, the girls steadied the ponies back to a collected canter, and then turned left and rode hard at the first fence. Over the upright rail they went–both ponies taking off into the air at precisely the same time. Then they were turning the corner to the right and cantering on to the next fence, the oxer. Again, the ponies lifted up into the air side by side, precisely on cue.

  “This is beautiful co-ordinated riding,” Mike Partridge was saying in hushed tones to the crowd. “Both of these riders are thirteen years old. Olivia isfrom Northampton and Georgie hails from the village of Little Brampton in Gloucestershire. Now, as they come up to the puissance wall, can they keep it together and get over? This is a big wall, ladies and gentlemen. One metre forty! Almost as tall as these two girls who are attempting it. Here they go!”