The Auditions Page 9

  Cameron smiled at Georgie. “How’s that wee Connemara of yours? He’s a brilliant jumper!”

  Georgie shook her head. “I’m on a school horsenow,” was all she said. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss Tyro. That morning, she had called her dad and then Lucinda to let them know that she had arrived at Blainford. She had been desperate for news about Tyro, and was relieved when Lucinda told her that Tyro was settling in brilliantly at the Prescotts’ farm in Northampton. She wanted Tyro to be happy, she really did. But mostly she wanted him to be here with her. When Lucinda asked about her new horse, she didn’t say anything. Her trainer would think Georgie was bonkers if she told her that Belladonna might actually be her mother’s old horse. She needed to talk to Tara first and find out the truth.

  Alice looked up at the clock on the wall. “Ohmygod! Eight twenty-six! Come on, we better go.”

  “Hey! I still haven’t eaten my toast!” Cameron complained, but no one was listening. They were already stacking their trays and heading for the door. It was time for school.

  Chapter Ten

  In Blainford’s Great Hall the seats were already filling up fast. Georgie, Alice and Cameron grabbed a bench together at the back. On the stage, the staff of the school sat in rows of chairs on a raised platform. They were a rather odd bunch, some dressed in typical teacher’s clothes, others dressed in jodhpurs or, in a couple of cases, cowboy chaps. At the front of the stage, behind the wooden lectern, stood a tall woman with stiff, erect posture and what could only be described as a long horsey face. She cleared her throat into the microphone and the room of 250 students fell silent.

  “Good morning. For those of you who are new to the school and do not know me already, I am Mrs Dickins-Thomson, headmistress of Blainford Academy.

  Welcome to our first assembly of the school year,” she said.

  “I would like to say a particular welcome to all our new junior pupils, who come here from every corner of the globe. Never forget that you are privileged to be accepted into a school where many of the world’s greatest riders have learnt their craft.”

  The headmistress gestured to the wooden plaques behind her, each one shaped like a scroll with names written on them in large gold leaf lettering.

  “Blainford Academy is more than just a school. This college has turned out more champions in its illustrious history than any other equestrian college. As you stand here today, take a look around you at the names that adorn the honour roll.”

  Georgie felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck as she looked at the honour roll for 1987 and saw the name Virginia Lang in gold script. Lang had been her mother’s name before she married and became Ginny Parker.

  “Here at Blainford,” Mrs Dickins-Thomson continued, “we expect every one of you to strive and excel in thegreat tradition of this academy so that one day, your own name will be included among our honoured graduates.

  “Now,” the headmistress smiled, “this week, the traditional Burghley–Luhmuhlen polo tournament will be held on Saturday on the school’s number one polo field. Parents and supporters are welcome and as always we expect all pupils to attend. For those of you applying for the Calgary Rodeo this term, please hand your applications in to Mr Shepard, head of the Western department, by the end of class today.”

  Mrs Dickins-Thomson consulted the stack of papers on her lectern. “That brings us to the end of today’s assembly. Morning classes will be running fifteen minutes late because of assembly and all students must go straight from the Great Hall to their first class. First year students–you will need to consult the yellow timetables you’ve been given with your stationery orders to find out where you need to go next. Now, will you all please file out in an orderly fashion.”

  In the stampede that followed, Georgie, Alice and Cameron were nearly trampled by students elbowing and shoving their way out of the doors that led into the quad.

  “Oh no!” Alice’s face suddenly dropped as she emerged out of the doorway. She quickly turned around and tried to barge back past Georgie against the flow of human traffic.

  “Alice?” Georgie squeaked. “What are you doing? We can’t get back inside again.”

  “Kennedy alert!” Alice said desperately. “She’s right in front of us!”

  But it was no good. The unstoppable wave of students forced them into the quad and, despite her attempts to escape, Alice found herself coming face to face with Kennedy Kirkwood.

  “Alice Dupree!” Kennedy said. “I was wondering if I’d see you here.”

  “Yeah, well, you’ve seen me now, Kennedy, so keep moving,” Alice said darkly.

  “Well, it’s lovely to see you too,” Kennedy purred, “I really didn’t think you’d make the final cut. The last time I saw you I was kicking your ass at the auditions.”

  “You didn’t kick anything, Kennedy,” Alice replied through gritted teeth. “You only beat me by two points.”

  “Winners don’t bother to keep count of the score,” Kennedy trilled. Then she looked at Georgie and Cameron.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

  “Georgie Parker and Cameron Fraser,” Alice mumbled reluctantly, “this is Kennedy Kirkwood.”

  “Georgie Parker!” Kennedy tossed her glossy hair back. “I’ve heard of you. You aced the British auditions, right? You’re Ginny Parker’s daughter?”

  “That’s me,” Georgie said nervously.

  “It’ll be good to have some real competition at last,” Kennedy said. “It was a total non-contest when I won the US auditions. You know, they call this place the All-Stars Academy, but these days they let just about anybody enrol.” She looked pointedly at Alice.

  “What’s your major?” Kennedy asked Georgie.

  “Well, I’m taking eventing and dressage as my option classes this term,” Georgie said, “but really I want to be an eventer.”

  “Oh, well, I guess you’ll see me in class!” Kennedysaid. “I’m doing eventing too–my whole family are showjumpers, they think I’m crazy.”

  “Me too!” Cameron said.

  Kennedy was taken aback.

  “I mean, ‘me too I’m an eventer’,” Cameron added hastily, “I didn’t mean I think you’re crazy. I hardly know you. You might be crazy, but that’s OK. I’m a little bit crazy too, so that’s something else we have in common!”

  “Who are you again?” Kennedy glared at him.

  “Cameron Fraser,” he grinned. “I’ll be in your eventing class.”

  “Wow. Neat,” Kennedy said sarcastically. She turned back to Georgie. “Well, like I said, it’s good to have some real competition! See you at the stables!”

  “Not if I see you first, super-witch!” Alice muttered under her breath as they watched Kennedy walk off. Then she turned to Cameron. “What was all of that stuff about?”

  “I don’t know,” Cameron groaned. “Kennedy probably thinks I’m a babbling fool.”

  “Well,” Alice mocked, “that’s something else we have in common!”

  The new juniors had been split into three classes for morning subjects. Georgie, Alice and Cameron were all in 3A, which meant they had German for first period.

  “Lateness will not be tolerated,” Ms Schmidt said as they took their seats.

  The German teacher didn’t look much older than her pupils. She was tiny with big doe eyes and fine blonde hair. Although small in stature, she was a formidable horsewoman. She had once been the captain of the German Olympic team and her name was one of those in gold script on the honour roll in the Great Hall.

  Ms Schmidt clearly didn’t believe in wasting time. She began speaking to the class in German and Georgie, who had never taken a German lesson before, had no idea what was going on!

  To make matters worse, the two girls in front of her, a German girl with a thick blonde braid by the name of Isabel Weiss, and a Dutch girl with braces and poker-straight brown hair called Mitty Janssen were both fluent German speakers. When Ms Schmidt askeda question, Mitt
y and Isabel would reply in German! And Mitty and Isabel would be the first to raise their hands every time, sitting up ramrod straight in their eagerness to answer.

  Georgie was beginning to see the school cliques emerging around her. Kennedy Kirkwood, who was also in their class, was whispering and passing notes with Arden and Tori. Despite the school rules about not wearing nail polish or jewellery, all three wore the same bright lilac polish on their nails and gold locket necklaces around their necks.

  At the back of the room, slouching in their seats, chewing gum and pretty much ignoring Ms Schmidt, were four kids who looked like the Western posse. One of the boys, obviously the leader of the group, had shoulder-length blond hair and a fringe so long that you could barely see his eyes. He was lanky and lean and wore the sleeves of his school shirt rolled up to the elbow, exposing his tanned forearms.

  “The Westerns?” Georgie whispered to Alice, pointing to the boy and his friends.

  “Uh-huh. That’s Tyler McGuane,” Alice whisperedback. “We met at the US finals. He rides a palomino Quarterhorse. He’s into barrel racing and that kind of stuff.” She pulled a face. “He’s OK, I suppose. You see that boy next to him with the dark hair in a braid? That’s Jenner Philips, and the two girls are Bunny Redpath and Blair Danner.” Alice stopped talking immediately. She had noticed that the sharp eyes of Bettina Schmidt were trained upon her.

  “Miss Dupree? Miss Parker? If you’re talking then you’ve obviously finished writing down all your vocab words. If you want, I can always give you ten more,” she said in a clipped voice.

  “No, Ms Schmidt, I haven’t finished,” Georgie admitted.

  “Then back to work!”

  When Georgie had dreamed about coming to Blainford, she had never given any thought to what the actual schoolwork would be like. She realised now that she’d been expecting the lessons would be easy and the riding would be the tough part. However, in their next class the maths teacher, Miss Somerford, made it quite clear that academic brilliance was expected as well.

  “You may think it is enough to be a good rider, but I can tell you that if you fail in my class you will have no future at Blainford Academy,” Miss Somerford said as she wrote equations briskly on the whiteboard.

  “Class rankings are given at mid-term and again at the end of term. You’ll be given your grade and that will determine your ranking within the class in every subject.”

  Georgie could barely keep up just writing everything down. She had no idea what any of the answers were to the questions.

  “Don’t worry,” Alice told her as they left class, “I happen to be a secret maths geek. I’ll help you later when we get back to the boarding house.”

  Their third class that day was English with Mr Otto. The room was on the other side of the quad and Georgie walked there with Cameron and Alice.

  Georgie watched Tyler McGuane walking just ahead of them. He had this really cool languid stride as if he’d just got off his horse and was about to walk into a saloon bar like they did in the movies.

  In English class, Tyler made a point of sitting right next to Kennedy and Arden. He kept staring over at Kennedy and at one point he leaned over during class and asked to borrow her text book. She passed it to him without even acknowledging his existence.

  “Tyler McGuane might be hot, but Kennedy Kirkwood would never give him a second glance,” Alice announced. They were having lunch in the dining hall and Alice was taking great delight in explaining to Cameron and Georgie just how the cliques always worked at Blainford.

  “Tyler’s a Western rider,” Alice went on. “Showjumperettes wouldn’t be seen dead with a Western boy. They are totally into polo poseurs …”

  “Speaking of polo poseurs,” Georgie hissed, “Conrad Miller is coming this way.”

  As always, the other boys from Burghley House were with Conrad. They sat down at one of the empty prefect tables with their lunch trays but Conrad kept walking, heading straight for Georgie.

  “Parker,” he said coolly.

  Georgie looked up. Conrad was standing over her.

  “Don’t forget, you’ve got fatigues today,” he said. “Report to the stables at four o’clock after school.”

  Alice was convinced that Conrad had a crush on Georgie.

  “Yay for me!” Georgie said sarcastically. “What are fatigues anyway?”

  “Chores around the school,” Alice said. “Whatever the prefects can find for you to do–like moving showjumps or cleaning out troughs.”

  “Again,” Georgie groaned, “I’d just like to say, ‘yay for me’.”

  The girls were walking back up the driveway towards the stables, having got changed into their jodhpurs and short boots. They were on their way to their very first ridden class of the new term. Eventing with Tara Kelly.

  Georgie was feeling sick at the prospect of riding Belladonna. Alice wasn’t helping calm her nerves either. As they caught up with Cameron on the driveway, Alice began telling horror stories about Tara Kelly’s cross-country class. “Cherry and Kendal got eliminated from cross-country after the first term,”

  Alice told them. “They both think I’m mad to take Voldemort’s class after what they went through.”

  “Voldemort?” Georgie asked.

  “That’s what Kendal and Cherry called her when they were in her class because she’s such a—” Alice slid open the sliding doors to the stables and saw none other than Tara Kelly herself standing right there!

  But if Tara had been listening she didn’t give anything away. She checked her wrist watch and looked up at them. “Time is tight, Mr Fraser and Miss Dupree!” she said briskly. “You’d better hurry up and saddle your horses.” And then she turned to Georgie.

  “And you, Miss Parker, need to come with me. I want to talk to you about your new horse.”

  After her first meeting with Belladonna yesterday Georgie had tried to convince herself that jetlag had been clouding her judgement and blurring her vision. But in the clear light of a new day, when the stall door swung open once more, nothing had changed. The mare bore the most striking similarity to Boudicca. Could they be one and the same?

  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Tara said, clipping thelead shank on Belladonna’s halter and leading her out of the stall. “I suppose you recognise her?”

  “I. I don’t know.” Georgie was uncertain what to say. “I think I do.”

  Tara nodded. “I must admit I had my reservations about giving her to you. But I have this feeling that you two will click. She’s a talented mare. Only six years old so she’s inexperienced and green, but with the best bloodlines I’ve ever seen. She’s the spitting image of her mother. So that makes two of you.”

  And at that moment the penny dropped. “She’s Boudicca’s foal?”

  “That’s right.” Tara led the big bay around and tied her up to the hitching post. “Boudicca was bred at stud and had one foal before she was sold to your mother. This is that foal. I had the chance to buy her at auction six months ago, and I snapped her up, knowing that if she had half the talent her mother possessed she’d be perfect as an eventing mount for the school. She’s been broken in and lightly ridden, but just like you, this is her first year at Blainford.”

  It all made sense to Georgie now. No wonder thismare looked exactly like Boudicca! And her name Belladonna made sense too, as Warmbloods always kept their parents’ initials.

  “She’s a complicated ride,” Tara continued, “and normally I would give a horse like this to a more senior student. But I thought, considering your shared history, that you might like to try her. Of course, if you don’t want to I can exchange her with one of the senior mounts …”

  “No!” Georgie could feel a lump in her throat as she reached out and stroked the mare’s thick glossy black mane. “No,” she said again, more softly this time, “don’t give her to anyone else. I’ll ride her.”

  “Excellent!” Tara Kelly said briskly, handing Belladonna’s lead rope to Georgie. “You’ll find h
er tack in the shed. Be quick because you’re due in class now.”

  In the tack room, Georgie found not one but two saddles on the racks in Belladonna’s locker. There was a black SLK high-head Albion with a deep seat and long flaps for dressage. The second saddle was a honey-coloured Pessoa, smaller and more lightweight, a flat-seat saddle to be used for showjumping andcross-country. Georgie picked up this one and carried it back.

  As Georgie threw the numnah and saddle across Belladonna’s back, the mare shuffled about anxiously. Georgie was just as nervous as her horse. Belladonna had yet to prove she had no vices. Georgie kept a close eye on the mare as she tightened the girth and then did up the nosebands and throatlash on the bridle, checked her stirrup length and followed Cameron and Alice who were already getting on their horses over at the mounting block.

  “Are you coming? Class is starting soon!” Alice called as Georgie hesitated at the mounting block.

  Georgie looked at the mare standing in front of her, then finally she put her foot in the stirrup and swung herself up into the saddle. Belladonna was a whole two hands taller than Tyro and it was a long way to the ground. Being on this mare made her feel like a child playing dress-up in her mum’s high heels. After all, her mother had never let her on Boudicca. Now here she was, on a horse just as big and powerful and possibly even more unpredictable.

  “Come on!” Georgie was shaken out of her thoughts by Alice imploring her to hurry up. “Tara’s already got the other riders lined up. We’re late!”

  The three of them walked together across the field towards the arena. They arrived at the entrance gate just in time to see Tara bawling out Isabel Weiss. Isabel had turned up for class without her back protector or bell boots on her horse.

  “Go to the stables and get them!” Tara commanded. Then she turned her back on Isabel and addressed the rest of the riders. “This goes for all of you! Do not expect to be allowed to ride if you’re not in proper gear. Do I make myself clear? This isn’t a ballroom dancing class. This is cross-country, the most dangerous sport in the equestrian world, and you must be prepared!”