Charlotte and the Starlet (11 page)

That was a sentiment shared by Charlotte. She sat
alone in the dining room, feeling the eyes of The Evil
Three upon her but, rather than being concerned, she
was pleased to have them on edge. She ate with great
relish. Leila had proved she could be a pretty talented
equestrian horse and now that she had realised
her attitude had been all wrong, they could make a
top team.

That night, for the first time since she'd been at
Thornton Downs, Charlotte lay in bed in her small,
stuffy boiler room and felt content. It didn't really
matter how the other girls treated her. It didn't really
matter if Mr Hatcher and Miss Strudworth thought
she was delusional. In Leila she had a real friend now.
Together they could make the JOES. She shut her eyes
and went to sleep instantly, with a wide smile on her
face.

Next morning Charlotte burst brightly into the
stables. 'Hi there, Leila, how did you sleep?'

Leila moaned. She had barely slept at all. Every
joint in her body ached. When they were out in the
open heading towards the arena and able to speak
privately, Leila announced she was worried she had
typhoid fever.

Charlotte felt her. 'No temperature.'

'Maybe it's one of those no-temperature diseases.
Every muscle in my body feels like it's been stitched.'

'That's just good old-fashioned soreness. You
exercised muscles you've probably never used
before. Once we get warmed up you'll be fine.'

Leila didn't believe her but by the time they got to
the arena she was feeling a whole lot better.

Strudworth was in the centre of the ring. A row of
flags on small stands stretched from one side to the
other.

'Today it's slalom practice,' Strudworth announced.
'The object is to move between all the flags without
touching them.' Strudworth demonstrated on her
horse. Charlotte was impressed. For someone who
looked so awkward on her own feet, Strudworth on a
horse was fluid, balanced and precise.

Leila stifled a yawn. Easy peasy. One of her films,
On Thin Ice
, had featured Sarah-Jane as an aspiring
ice-polo player and Leila and Sarah had spent a week
of intensive training doing this very same slalom stuff
on an ice-field. Well, Leila had feigned a cold and the
stunt horse had had to do it, but all the same, really.
Leila had watched the stunt horse doing it from
her cosy caravan while drinking large mugs of hot
chocolate. Nothing to it.

'Follow my lead,' said Charlotte. 'You'll be fine.'

Sure, sure. Leila began confidently enough but
then it was Whack! Whack! Whack! One flag after
another slapping her nose or her butt. Obviously they
had cheated and made the gaps too narrow.

Charlotte hissed down at her. 'You can't do this by
yourself. Let me help.'

Leila ignored her. Whack! Whack! Whack!

'If you don't listen to me, we'll keep doing it till
you do.'

'Okay, okay. You show me how much better you
can do.'

And to Leila's surprise she did. When she followed
Charlotte's commands they only hit one more flag. By
the time they came back on the reverse run, Leila
knew where Charlotte was going to send her and they
did the slalom not just quickly and without error
but with style, as if Leila was stepping out on the
dancefloor of one of those Sunset Boulevard discos.
Come to think of it, this could be a brand new little
dance she could show Hilary, Paris and those other
gals. Oh, they were just gonna love having her back.

That night Charlotte didn't go to dinner. The last
thing she wanted was the company of other girls.
Instead she picked up some bread rolls from the
kitchen en route to the stables, which were deserted
except for the horses.

Leila was excited to see her.

'Hey, girlfriend! I've been reminding these nags
here how we kicked their butt today.'

The grey mare, which Emma had selected as her
mount, lifted her lip into a sneer. Leila's eyes bugged
out at the rolls.

'
Fresh bread!
'

Charlotte rubbed Leila's muzzle and fed her one.

'Not that fresh.'

Leila woofed one down almost whole. 'Hey,
compared to the chaff I've been on here, this is caviar.'

'I have to say, I was wrong about you, Leila. I
thought you were bone lazy but I couldn't have asked
for a better effort these last couple of days.'

Leila couldn't care less what she thought of her so
long as she kept the bread rolls coming.

'People take a little time to get to know the real
me.'

The grey mare rolled her eyes. Leila gave her the
mind-your-own-business stare. The kid began brushing
her. This was more like it. Hanging out here for a
few weeks wouldn't be too foul at all if only some
pizza could be thrown in. She tossed the idea to her
new best buddy, Charlie.

'Pizza? No way. You still need to lose weight.'

'How about a little ice-cream sundae, chocolate and
caramel topping, nuts ...'

'No.'

'What if we hold on the nuts?'

'No, we have a big challenge ahead of us.'

Leila decided not to push it. Things had a way of
panning out. She looked over and noticed the saddle
on the stall. The twee velvet horse dangled
annoyingly. What if she was seen wearing that on
worldwide TV? She'd be the laughing stock of the
Viper Room. She had a reputation to uphold. Leila
jutted her jaw at the toy.

'Any chance we could lose Poco here?'

'No way. My mum made it.'

Leila felt a twinge of envy. Imagine a mom who
actually made you something? Even something as
appallingly corny as this. Leila's mom had never made
her anything except angry. When Leila was younger
her mom always returned from her latest overseas
tour with some stupid little doll or something. Like
that was supposed to make everything right. These
days she didn't bother, she'd got the message.

To keep the kid brushing, Leila figured she should
start some conversation.

'So your mom is pretty proud of you, I guess.'

'She died. Not long after she made that horse.'

Leila felt awful. A real hoof-in-the-mouth job.

'I'm sorry, Charlie. Bum deal.'

The kid just said, 'Yeah,' and kept brushing.

Leila didn't know what to say. For a long time there
was no sound except the rhythm of the brush. She
decided to take another stab.

'So, tell me about this place you're from?'

The kid did. For well over an hour. Leila found
herself doing something she rarely had before –
listening. It was actually pretty interesting in a weird
way, though the place sounded like Tijuana without
the people. Imagine no cable and no macchiato? Leila
perked up when Charlie got onto mustering. Could
come in handy if Tommy ever did a western or cattle
ranch movie.

The best stuff, though, was the stuff about the kid's
folks. How Charlie and her mom and dad used to pile
into the car and drive, like, two hours to find a shady
spot where Charlie's mom would spread a picnic
blanket, hopefully not on a bull ants' nest, and they
would sit and eat boiled eggs and cucumber and
pretend they were by a lake watching ducks.

Leila expected Charlie to be sad when she told
those stories but she was bright as a button reliving
those good times. Leila got a pang wishing she'd
driven somewhere with her folks and eaten boiled
eggs and cucumber. Sure, she'd been to lots of
opening night Hollywood shindigs with sushi,
chicken yakitori, canapés, live salsa bands and free
slushies, but when she started telling the kid about
Hollywood and how great those parties were, she had
to force her smile. She didn't quite feel it in her heart
like Charlie obviously did.

Eventually Charlotte thought to check her watch.
She was shocked to find it was well after nine p.m. She
had to go. Leila couldn't believe three hours had
passed. It felt it had gone a lot quicker than
Lord of
the Rings
.

'I'll see you tomorrow.'

Charlotte kissed Leila on the muzzle. It was a
different sort of kiss to what you got at the restaurant
of the Four Seasons. They were air-kisses, missing the
cheek by a mile. Usually Leila would snarl if somebody
tried this sort of smooch. She didn't like people getting
close to her. But tonight she let it go. After all, she
needed to make the JOES so she supposed she should
put up with it, keep the kid happy.

The next week breezed by. Charlotte spent
practically every spare minute with Leila. When
they weren't improving their dressage work on the
arena, stepping between rubber tyres, hurdling,
spinning and reversing, they were swapping tales of
home. Leila had so many fantastic stories about the
movies she'd been in. Of course, Charlotte had no
idea who these famous actors were but now and
again she would sneak a look at the magazines the
other girls brought down to meals and she'd realise
that the actors on the cover were Leila's Hollywood
friends.

Leila was gradually getting fitter. From being the
worst of the pairings at Thornton, Leila and Charlotte
were closing in on the very best, who Charlotte
grudgingly conceded included The Evil Three.

Charlotte and Leila had got into the habit of taking
long afternoon rides to the farthest corner of the
property, where they could natter freely away from
prying ears. Ninety per cent of what Leila talked about
was food. What this or that actor turned on for their
'opening' or engagement or break-off-of-engagement
parties. Whenever Charlotte tried to get Leila to talk
about her mum she muttered 'show pony' and
changed the subject. Today, though, she had opened
up about her father.

'He made over thirty movies. He kept doing more
and more dangerous stunts to help provide for me and
Mom. All that time, not once did the studio take him
to a classy restaurant. Chaff every day of his life until
he died. And they buried him where he fell. That's the
studios for you.'

'And you hate them for it.'

'Of course I do.'

'And your mum?'

Leila got defensive. 'I was a kid. She should have
been there.'

'She was being a mum and dad for you.'

'Well, she failed. Hey, did I ever tell you about the
time J-Lo and I caught the bus?'

Charlotte was aware Leila was changing the
subject. She couldn't imagine anybody who had a
mother not wanting to spend all the time they had
with them. They were cantering along the top of a
wooded ridge, the sun orange and fat and beginning
to sink, as if it had just finished a long lunch and
wanted a snooze. Leila finished her J-Lo story.
Charlotte felt she'd missed something.

'I don't get it. You caught a bus, went one stop and
got off.'

'Yeah.'

Leila was smirking and shaking her head at the
memory.

'But what was the big deal?'

'We rode the bus – that was the big deal. Hey, did
I ever tell you about the time in Rome? The studio had
this amazing cake made in the shape of a Ferrari ...'