Charlotte and the Starlet (8 page)

Leila shifted uncomfortably in her stall. This straw
was the pits. If only there were cable, at least that
would help pass the time. It was like watching treacle
spill in here. Mmm, treacle! Leila smacked her lips.
What she wouldn't do for a stack of pancakes. Well,
one thing she wouldn't do is jump hurdles or prance
around like a window dresser on Melrose. She caught
the grey mare looking over at her with a superior
gleam in her eye.

'What are you looking at, Greybeard?'

The mare whinnied, 'You don't belong here.'

'For once you ain't talking drivel,' she shot back.

'You're a lazy spoiled brat. We're equestrian horses,
we're proud of what we do.' The mare turned her back
on Leila and the other horses followed her lead.

Leila shook her head. Like she cared. Her whole
childhood she'd been on her own so the silent
treatment was no big deal. Still, she couldn't stay in
this dump. If Joel Gold or Tommy didn't show up
soon, she'd have to phone them. But then, she didn't
know the number to call. She relied on Feathers for
that stuff. Where was the scrawny piece of avian fluff
when you needed him?

A morose Feathers was sitting on his perch wondering
where Leila was and trying to figure out how to give these
dopes a clue about the bad guy he'd seen the night she
disappeared. Okay, so Leila was a pain in the tailfeather,
vain and self-centred – but there were mitigating
circumstances, as Feathers was only too well aware.

For a start, after Leila's dad had died in that horrible
accident, Leila's mother had become very protective of
her. She hadn't ever been allowed to mix with other
horses in case she got an infection or something.
Instead her mother would sneak her into the shack
where the stablehands watched TV. Something
happened with that TV exposure because one day
Leila started speaking like a human.

Well, her mom had flipped! She was happy for
her daughter because it opened up a whole load of
possibilities but, at the same time, she warned her
never to reveal to humans that she could talk. Leila's
mom was doing a dancing show at the time and she
made sure Leila got all the showbiz tricks she needed:
how to mug to camera, how to toss your mane just so,
how to suck up to the director. But she was a working
mom and her work took her away for long stretches.
She was away when Leila got her first big role, and of
course Leila slayed them in the aisles.

Next thing she's got a mountain of chocolates, her
own spa, a massage bed. Naturally that's going to go to
a young filly's head. And a lot of it was Leila wanting
to get back at her mom for what she saw as deserting
her.

Still, Feathers had never given up hope on Leila. He
was sure she just needed the right catalyst to make her
understand what was truly important. Now, though,
she was gone. Feathers felt very, very sad and worried
about how he would break the news to Leila's mom.
He wondered if they would ever see Leila again.

Next morning at five-forty-five, Charlotte was already
dressed in her new riding clothes. She liked the feel of
the tailored jacket and jodhpurs, which she had
ironed assiduously. No way would she give Miss
Strudworth an excuse to fault her today. But she
couldn't find her boots anywhere. She was certain
she'd left them under her bed last night after polishing
them to a bright sheen, but they weren't there now.
She spent ten minutes looking everywhere she could
think of. Now she was growing worried. The Evil
Three were dressed and heading out.

'Have you seen my boots?' she asked in
desperation.

She noted the sly flicker of a smile on Emma's lips.

'You're not suggesting we did anything to them, are
you?'

And Charlotte knew then that they had.

'What did you do with them?'

She saw Lucinda and Rebecca scuttle out but
Emma stood her ground.

'You're so paranoid, Charlie.'

Charlotte would have loved to have punched her
then and there but she couldn't afford the time. Where
had they put her boots? She had searched the
bedroom and bathroom. Her gaze slowly settled on
the window. She threw it open and looked down on
the parade ground below, where some girls were
already assembling. She couldn't see any boots. And
then she noticed the big tree right in front of her
window. She looked up.

There they were, wedged high in the branches. She
checked her watch. Four minutes to six. She had no
option but to try and get them.

She climbed up onto the window sill. It wasn't that
far to jump to the nearest branch but it was a long way
down if she slipped. Taking a deep breath, she pushed
off with all her might.

She felt the thrill and terror of sailing through the
air before gravity began to pull her down. Her hands
shot out and wrapped around the closest branch, but
the momentum was too great and she began to slip. In
desperation she dug in with her fingernails. She held,
dangling high above the assembly of girls. Gradually
she worked her palms into a more secure position and
then summoned her strength and swung herself up
and onto the branch. Safe. She breathed a sigh of
relief.

The boots were about three branches above and,
even on tiptoes, Charlotte couldn't quite reach. She
would have to climb to the next branch. She started
scaling the trunk, using her knees and hauling herself
up. She could see Strudworth on her horse directly
below and hear her urging the girls to fall into a
straight line. Charlotte started out along the next
branch, straddling it like a witch on a broomstick.
This bough was nowhere near as sturdy as the first
one. She edged very carefully, the branch bending
under her weight. She daren't go any further for fear of
it snapping, but if she lay along the branch and
stretched, she might just reach.

She tried. Nearly ... She stretched a little more and
her fingers encircled the heel of one of the boots. She
started to drag it towards her, a centimetre at a time. It
was going well until it hit a bump in the branch and
slipped from her grasp. The second boot went with it.
She watched helplessly as they dropped like bombs,
zeroing in on Strudworth's head.

Oh no. She was about to score a direct hit on the
boss!

At the last second Strudworth's horse moved
forward and the boots slammed down behind her.
Miss Strudworth turned back quickly and scanned.
She was sure she had heard two quick thuds but there
was nothing in sight. It must have been her
imagination. She checked her watch. Right on six. She
raised the whistle to her lips.

Up above, Charlotte began to relax. It could have
been so much worse. Now, if she could just wriggle
back to her room ... CRACK!!!

She was falling through the air before she realised
the branch had broken. The ground was rapidly rising
up to meet her, although she was actually heading for
the water tank.

She hit it dead centre, at the very instant Strudworth
was about to blow her whistle. The good thing was
that the water broke Charlotte's fall. The bad thing was
the obvious one. She was now soaking wet. Charlotte
fought her way to the surface of the tank. As the water
drained out of her eardrums the first thing she heard
was the gale of laughter from the assembled riders.
Even though it hadn't been her fault, she wished there
were some way she could just burrow down into
the earth and hide there for a hundred years. She
contemplated remaining in the tank but knew that too
would only make things worse.

Slowly she pulled herself up. The sight that
greeted her made her wish she had merely been
hung, drawn and quartered. Miss Strudworth was
still seated on her horse but she was absolutely
soaked. Water dripped off the peak of her riding
helmet. Her face was stone.

'Sorry, Miss,' mumbled Charlotte, as she dropped
down from the tank to the ground and retrieved her
boots. Charlotte was aware the other girls were trying
to avoid eye contact with her in case they got tarred
with the same brush. As she put on her boots she saw
Strudworth try to write something on her clipboard.
The paper was so wet it ripped.

'Stables,' commanded Strudworth. But when she
tried to blow her whistle all that came out was a
bubbly burr. Charlotte didn't dare look back as she
ran hard to get her horse.

Leila was considering what she would give right now
for a half dozen croissants when the gate flew open
and the rube, soaking wet and looking like the
creature from the black lagoon, threw a bridle over
her. Leila fought hard but the kid was a whole lot
stronger than she looked. Before Leila knew it there
was a saddle on her back, bright and new and
actually quite classy and then – aaaahhhhhh – Leila
had to breathe in quickly as the cinch strap snapped
around her belly. She fought with all her might but
the bridle couldn't be resisted and, centimetre by
centimetre, she felt herself dragged out of the stall,
through the stable and out to the parade ground,
where the grey mare and the rest of the horses were
standing in a straight line like the palm trees on
Wilshire Boulevard.

Miss Strudworth watched the Richards girl struggling
with the filly. She doubted she would last a week.

'Riders, mount!' she commanded and all the girls
mounted with alacrity and poise, except for Richards,
who was having a devil of a time with the pretty bay.
'Just a light canter around the property.'

The girls moved off efficiently with one exception;
Richards' mount was doughnutting like a hooligan in
a V8 doing burnouts on a lawn.

Charlotte was frustrated and would not let Cher win.
No way. She finally broke out of the doughnut and
into a canter. She hoped that would be it now, that she
had established who was boss.

To Leila, this was just another Sarah-Jane in different
clothing. She'd got rid of one, she would get rid of the
other. She suddenly broke for a tree with low branches,
just like the one that had Sarah-Jane seeing stars.

Unlike Sarah-Jane, Charlotte was a true horsewoman,
not an actor who could ride a bit. When she saw the
tree coming at her she dropped straight back like a
limbo dancer, the bough passing over her nose.

Leila couldn't believe it. The rube was still on her
back. How was that possible?

But Leila had many more tricks up her saddlecloth.
She began galloping after the other riders and then,
just as she felt Charlie relax, she hit the brakes.