Charlotte and the Starlet (5 page)

It is often said that people resemble their pets. A man
walking a Pekinese is likely to be rotund and waddle.
Siamese cats are favoured by sleek young women who
enjoy soaking up the warmth from the sunniest
window of their apartments. Miss Caroline Strud-worth
of Thornton Downs Equestrian Academy had
spent her entire life around horses and, to be frank, it
showed. Over six feet tall in her riding boots, which
she wore the entire day except when in bed, her face
was long, her nostrils slightly flared and her mouth
was crammed with teeth the size of bathroom tiles.
And when she laughed it was with a decided whinny.
A lack of grey hair suggested an age less than fifty but
her attitudes belonged to somebody in their sixties.
On rare occasions she could act quite girlish, but most
of the time she ran her academy the way Captain Bligh
had run his sailing ships, with an iron fist. Today she
was trying to occupy herself while awaiting what, for
her, was the highlight of the year – the new intake of
horses. Like a child on Christmas Eve, she had barely
slept last night and had been up as usual at five a.m.

Miss Strudworth was extracting troublesome
weeds from around the base of the parade ground
flagpole when her acute hearing snaffled the hiss of
hydraulic brakes, the way a frog's tongue might lash
out and snatch a fly mid-air. The lorry had arrived and
was slowing to negotiate the gate at the foot of the
drive.

A minute or so later she reached the stables, her
heart beating fast. Bevans, the stable foreman, was
already at the big lorry chatting with the driver. His
gaze turned on Miss Strudworth as she arrived.

'Chap here says he's got thirteen horses. I told him
we only ordered twelve.'

'That is correct, Bevans.' Miss Strudworth was
certainly not going to pay extra. She pulled out the
invoice from a stiff tweed pocket. 'I have the invoice
right here and I'm not paying a cent more.' She
handed it across to the driver.

He checked it against his order and shrugged. 'It's
the same price. Maybe they threw in an extra one,
like? Baker's dozen?'

Bevans pointed out that Hero, the colt, was still
struggling with colic and an extra horse would be
handy with the new intake of JOES due to arrive
today. Miss Strudworth had learned from great-grandfather
Tobias, founder of Thornton Downs, to
never look a gift horse in the mouth.

'Very well, so long as it's not costing me anything,'
she said.

She noted the first of what would be a long line of
Mercedes, BMWs and those absurd four wheel drives
arriving at the gates. The intake comprised fifteen
girls, all proven horsewomen. Over thirty days they
would hone their skills under Miss Strudworth's
watchful eye. After this they would compete in the
disciplines of dressage, jumps and point-to-point, and
then seven would be selected to return as full-time
members of the squad.

Miss Strudworth knew that while the girls might
arrive with the same hopes, they would not all leave
with them intact. For those who succeeded there
would be boundless happiness; for those who
missed out, utter despair. A pity, but that was the
way of the world. As Miss Strudworth herself knew,
it was a very foolish person who believed in happy
endings for all. Somebody always had to miss out.
She thought of her lonely trophies up there in her
parlour. Yes, sad but true, somebody had to miss out.
Her gaze drifted to a large Mercedes where the
Hayes-Warrington girl was climbing out.

'Yes, Mum, no, Mum, bye, Mum.'

She slammed the door. A beautifully groomed
blonde was getting out of a BMW next to her. She was
talking quite angrily to somebody in the car.

'... and if pizza face uses my computer while I'm
away, I'll set fire to her pigtails again.'

Miss Strudworth took a deep breath. Thirty days of
having to deal with these precocious princesses would
test her. But life, after all, was not meant to be easy.
She would emerge triumphant as always.

Leila had no idea where she was. The last thing she
remembered clearly was being in a field and a big
truck arriving and bundling her in with the 'hacks'.
Then somebody had jabbed a needle into her and the
next thing she knew she was being led out of the truck
with a dozen or so other nags, including that bundle-of-fun-not
grey mare.

'Hey, nanna,' she managed in horse. 'Where are
we?'

The grey mare narrowed her eyes. 'What's it look
like?'

'It looks like the set of every movie I've ever made.'

'We're in a riding academy.'

A riding academy! Ludicrous. 'I don't want to ride,
I want to eat.'

The grey mare shook her head in disbelief. 'No you
idiot,
they
ride
us
.'

She inclined her head to the gaggle of teenage girls
who had congregated in the centre of the circular
driveway.

Oh yeah? Leila smirked. She'd like to see them try
and ride her, she really would.

Miss Strudworth ascribed the success of her academy
to careful selection of horses. Some she sourced in
Australia, some came from Europe and some from
her favourite breeders in California. Her program of
putting young riders and horses together in an
equestrian symbiosis had won plaudits, not just from
Mr Graham, who ran the JOES program, but
internationally. While most of the girls attending
would have their own horses back home, Miss
Strudworth had set in place a rule that at Thornton
Downs all the girls would start equal. They would
each choose a new Thornton Downs horse and bond
with that horse over the course of their stay. In this
way she felt that girls from less advantaged back-grounds
were on something of an equal footing
with their wealthier peers. Miss Strudworth looked
over the array of inductees and blew her whistle
loudly.

'Girls,' she commanded in an imperious voice,
'your rooms are listed on the board in the foyer. Place
your bags in your rooms and return immediately to
the stables to select your horses.'

The girls moved off briskly. Those who had been
here before knew that the right horse could make or
break your chances of making the JOES elite squad.

Caked in red dust, the battered old station wagon
swung up through the high stone arch of Thornton
Downs. Charlotte tried not to show that she was
worried about arriving late. Her poor dad must be so
tired. Thornton Downs was almost at the other end of
the country to Snake Hills and he had driven all day
yesterday. They had slept in the car before setting
off again before dawn. Unfortunately, not long
after starting this morning they had hit a steer. The
impact had created a leak in the radiator and her
dad had been forced to make running repairs.
The only upside was that Charlotte got to chew
a lot of gum so her dad could push it into the hole
in the radiator to stop the leak. It worked but the
car had kept overheating and they'd had to
keep topping up the water, which also slowed
them down.

For the last hour or so of the drive Charlotte had
been sitting with her mouth open. The land here was
so different to Snake Hills. The fields were lush and
as green as the tracksuits of Australian athletes.
Thornton Downs itself left her speechless. Even her
father let out a low whistle. Charlotte drank in the
crisp white fences that surrounded the paddocks.
Everything seemed neat. Everything seemed perfect.
In the near distance, she could make out a circle of
smooth dirt with hurdles and steeples around it. This
was the real deal. Thick bush bordered the paddocks.
A flock of exotic parrots shot across the sky,
squawking loudly.

She was so excited but also a little nervous. How
could she ever belong in a place like this? That feeling
deepened when the massive main building loomed
into view.

Three stories high, gabled and built of neat red
brick criss-crossed by white piping, the building
totally dominated the landscape. Compared to this,
even Mr Thomas' house looked like a doll's house.
Directly in front of the main building was a large
parade area of unblemished clay. Wow. She just knew
she was going to get lost here.

There didn't seem to be anybody else about as her
father pulled to a stop near the building. Charlotte
had already said goodbye to Rusty the cattle dog, who
sat in the back seat moaning as if he knew he wouldn't
be seeing her for a while.

'Explain we're late because we hit a steer.'

Charlotte nodded and gave her dad a final hug.

'I guess it's time,' he said simply.

'I guess it is,' she said, and let go.

'I'll ring you,' her father promised.

'You better.'

She managed a smile. She knew that she had to
go that instant. If she stayed any longer she'd burst
into tears. She quickly kissed her dad, hooked on
her backpack and walked towards the big building.
She counted to one hundred before she turned back
to see the rusty old car covered in thick red earth
just turning away and back onto the main road.
This was it.

She had almost reached the door when a voice
boomed out.

'Where do you think you're going?'

It sounded like a man's voice. Charlotte looked
around but could see nobody.

'Up here.'

A severe looking woman was hanging out the
window.

'Isn't this where you are supposed to come?'

The woman frowned. 'It is if you're on time. But
you're late.'

'We hit a ...'

But before Charlotte could explain the woman
thrust a long arm out the window and pointed to
some large sheds about half a kilometre away.

'To the stables. Now. Get your horse. The other
girls are already there.'

Charlotte didn't dare argue. She dropped her
backpack and ran as fast as she could.

The stables were very large. Eight horse stalls down
each side with two tack rooms, one in the middle of
each side. There was also a small open office where
Bevans and the vet had a desk to work from.