Showjumpers (6 page)

Arden pushed past and left Georgie standing there, staring at the boy with whom she had obviously just been snogging. Georgie couldn’t believe it. And yet in a way she already knew it would be him. She took one last look at James Kirkwood, then turned and ran, before he had the chance to see her cry.

W
hen Georgie had found Arden and James in the garden together that night at the Kirkwood mansion, she believed him when he said it was perfectly innocent. Now she was reconsidering. Had it started back then? Was that why James had abandoned her? It was so embarrassing to think that the Burghley House boys and the showjumperettes all knew about this before she did. It was bad enough being dumped – but being tossed aside for a superficial showjumperette like Arden Mortimer really sucked.

Luckily for Georgie, her failed love life was about to be eclipsed by a much more outrageous scandal. The appointment of Hans Schockelmann as the showjumping coach at Adelaide House had the whole school talking, and not in a good way. Georgie had heard the rumours, but it wasn’t until the showjumping team meeting at Badminton House that she got the full story from a furious Kendal Dupree.

“It’s cheating – straight out dirty cheating!” Kendal said. “Hans is ranked the number one showjumper in the world! They can’t have him as team coach. It’s like getting Stephen Hawking to help you with your science homework!”

Georgie was confused. “Why don’t Adelaide just have one of the house masters like the other teams do?”

“They say it’s a ‘loophole',” Kendal did sarcastic air quotes. “Apparently if the regular coach isn’t available then the teams can find their own. Adelaide House were supposed to have Miss Loden, but she’s away so they roped in Hans Schockelmann as her replacement!”

Georgie still didn’t understand. “If he’s the best showjumper in the world then how come he’s willing to coach Adelaide House?”

“Two words,” Kendal said. “Patricia Kirkwood. Patricia has been employing Hans to give Kennedy private jumping lessons for ages. Apparently she offered to sponsor his horses for the next Olympics if he agreed to coach the team.”

Apart from Hans Schockelmann at Adelaide, all the other boarding houses had Blainford masters as team coaches. Burghley House had Heath Brompton, the polo master, and Trent Chase, head of the showjumping department, was coaching Luhmuhlen. Georgie wasn’t sure if it was a stroke of luck or just the opposite that Badminton House had been handed to Tara Kelly.

“OK, she’ll probably work us like dogs, but at least Tara knows how to jump,” Alice insisted. “It’s Stars of Pau I feel sorry for. Imagine being lumbered with Ms Schmidt!”

Bettina Schmidt was strictly a dressage rider and didn’t know a coloured pole from a cavaletti. In fact it was a toss-up between Stars of Pau and Lexington House as to who came off worst. Lexington had Hank Shepard, the head of the Western faculty.

“Great!” Daisy King said sarcastically. “What’s he gonna do? Lasso the jumps and hog-tie them?”

Of the six squad members gathered on the sofa in the Badminton House main common room, Georgie already knew three: Alice, Daisy and Kendal. The other two riders were Amy Davis and Karen Lockhart. The girls were both juniors – a term which actually meant they were in their third year at the Academy. Amy was a showjumping major, a pixie-like girl with short-cropped brown hair. She rode a chestnut Hanoverian with the fancy show name Sandhurst Debonair – although his paddock-name was Sandy. Karen Lockhart was a showjumper as well. Her horse was nicknamed Rocky – short for Rolling Rock – a big, dark brown mare with a white blaze and three white socks.

Georgie had seen Karen and Amy around the house before, although the juniors seldom hung out with first years and had their own common room on the upper floor of the boarding house. For today’s meeting, they had gathered downstairs and Kendal had produced a packet of chocolate biscuits, which were normally under lock and key, and reserved for guests alone. The girls had eaten half the packet by the time Tara Kelly arrived and the meeting began.

Tara was straight down to business. “The tournament is in two stages,” she told the girls. “The first of these is the sudden-death knockout in three weeks’ time. There are six teams – one from each house. The three houses that win in the knockouts continue through to the finals, so this round is crucial. If we don’t win then we’re out.”

Tara’s training schedule was rigorous. “The squad meets on Mondays and Wednesdays after school, and on Saturday mornings at seven for the next three weeks,” she told the girls.

There was a groan from some of the squad members.

“Fine,” Tara said. “We’ll make it six-thirty instead, shall we?” She reached over and took the half-eaten packet of chocolate biscuits that Kendal had been hiding under the table.

“And no more junk food! Your horses are on a fitness regime and you should be too. Drop the chocolate biscuits and get yourselves to the gym. I want this team in top shape.”

The girls cast a longing look at the biscuits as Tara shoved them in her bag.

“This team has the talent to win the House Cup and I plan to make sure that we do,” Tara said. Georgie heard a tetchy note in Tara’s voice as she added, “There’s no way I’m going to lose to Hans Schockelmann!”

“Tara absolutely hates Hans,” Alice said as they walked to their cross-country lesson the next Monday. “They used to date back when she was at Blainford and he dumped her just before the School Formal.”

“That’s so cruel!” Georgie was shocked.

“Apparently she never spoke to him again,” Alice said.

“I’m so sick of hearing about the School Formal,” Daisy said dismissively. “Why does everyone keep talking about it? Does it earn us points for the class ranking?”

“No, Daisy.” Alice looked at her like she was from Mars. “It’s for fun.”

Daisy wrinkled her nose up. “Yeah, whatever.”

“It’s not fun so far,” Emily groaned. “It’s torture. The other day Alex came over at lunch and I thought he was finally going to ask me, but then he just said, ‘Are you going to eat your pudding or can I have it?'”

“Well, if you want to go with him, why don’t you ask him?” Alice said.

“Yeah, well, why don’t you ask Cameron?” Emily countered.

Alice turned bright pink. All the girls in Badminton House suspected that Alice had a crush on Cam, but she would never admit it.

“So, let me get this straight,” Georgie said. “None of us have dates for the Formal?”

The other girls nodded glumly.

“After your performance last week,” Daisy said. “I’d spend more time worrying about cross-country elimination Georgie, if I were you.”

“Daisy!” Alice said.

“What?” Daisy frowned. “Oh, come on! Georgie knows it’s true – she’s at the bottom of the class.”

Daisy was brutally honest and dead right. Georgie had to raise her game if she wanted to be in Tara’s class beyond the end of term.

“We’re going to take the horses out to the steeplechase section of the course today,” Tara told them. “The jumps are not big, and they’re not complex. This is all about getting the horses working at a nice, regular gallop through the course.”

The steeplechase was the same course they had ridden for their mid-term exam, a series of low natural fences like spars and hedges that could be taken at a fair speed. As Georgie headed over to the start of the course, she recognised the wiry, hunched figure of the school’s caretaker, Kenny, moving jump stands from the arena to the equipment shed nearby.

Kenny did odd jobs around the Academy and was the school’s driver. When Georgie had first arrived in Lexington it had been Kenny who had met her at the airport to drive her to Blainford, and although Georgie sometimes had trouble understanding his Kentucky drawl and was a bit grossed out by his habit of mulching his chewing tobacco around in his mouth as he spoke, she really liked him.

“Hi, Kenny!” Georgie called out.

“Georgie!” Kenny grinned at her and put down the jump stand he was carrying to come over and say hello. “Hey, how’s that mare of yours goin'?”

“We got into the House Showjumping team,” Georgie said proudly.

“Good for you!” Kenny said.

It’s funny,
Georgie thought,
even when he’s talking to you, he always has at least one eye on your horse.
As they chatted, she could see he was watching the way Belle was behaving, crab-stepping beneath Georgie, incapable of standing still.

“She’s restless, ain’t she?” Kenny said. “She always like this when you’re on the course?”

“She was too fresh last week,” Georgie admitted, “but I’ve given her loads of work since then. She’ll be totally different this time.”

Kenny didn’t look convinced. “A lot of Thoroughbred in her,” he observed. “She’s got the build – and the temperament too. A hot-head. Got your hands full with this mare, that’s for sure.” He paused to spit out his chewing tobacco. “I got a nephew, he’s a jockey. Rides trackwork at Clemency Farm, out past Pleasant Hill,” Kenny said. “Riley Conway’s his name. That boy has a way with horses I’ve never seen before. If one of the other jockeys has a horse they can’t make headway with, they send ‘em to Riley. There ain’t a horse that boy can’t figure out. He’d be able to help with this mare, for sure.”

“Thanks, Kenny,” Georgie said, feeling slightly resentful to be given advice when her horse hadn’t even done anything wrong yet. “But Belle isn’t a racehorse. She doesn’t need to learn how to go around a track.”

“You know what my dad always used to say?” Kenny smiled. “He’d say a horse is a horse is a horse.”

Georgie pulled a face. “Uh, that’s not much of a ‘saying', Kenny.”

The caretaker shook his head. “My dad wasn’t no poet. But he knew his horses. And he was right. Don’t matter whether you want to race ‘em or jump ‘em or just ride ‘em around the arena doing fancy-pants dressage. It’s all the same inside their heads; that horse is still a horse. You gotta think like they do. That’s what Riley does. He thinks like a horse. ”

Kenny put his hand up to stroke Belle on the muzzle. “He’s a good boy, Riley. Happy to help you any time. It’s not far to Clemency Farm – I can give you his phone number. Maybe you can take the mare over to see him?”

Georgie smiled. “Thanks, Kenny, but Belle is going to be fine today. She just had too much energy last week, that’s all. You’ll see.”

Kenny nodded. “Maybe that’s true like you say, Georgie. I hope so.”

By the time Georgie caught up with the other riders, Tara Kelly was explaining how she wanted them to ride the steeplechase course.

“Learning how to maintain a steady gallop on the crosscountry course is vital, to conserve your horse’s energy. Today I want you to allow them to relax into a rhythm all the way round – no speeding!”

On the start line, Georgie looked at her classmates, thinking back to their mid-term exam. She’d learned a few lessons that day – the main one being not to ride anywhere near Kennedy or Daisy. Kennedy had actually pushed Georgie off on purpose during the exam. And Daisy? Georgie’s British rival didn’t mean to be dangerous, but she was ruthlessly competitive. She had a habit of barging through to the front of the pack and running over anyone who got in her way.

Georgie had positioned herself at the far side of the field, next to Cameron and Alex. Belle was only too aware that they were about to ride the point-to-point course and was skipping and dancing, going up on her hindquarters then lunging suddenly forward, trying to get Georgie to release the reins.

“Steady, Belle,” Georgie whispered to the mare. “Not much longer…”

When Tara finally called out, “On your marks… go!” Belle shot forward like a rocket, but Georgie was ready for her. She’d remembered some of Kenny’s advice from the last time she’d raced and wrapped her hands in Belle’s mane. It stopped her from being left behind in the saddle as the mare lurched forward and broke into a gallop.

“Steady, girl!” Georgie immediately gave a tug on the reins to get Belle back under control. She was taken by surprise when the mare gave a defiant flick of her head and pulled the reins clean out of Georgie’s hands.

“Belle!” Georgie managed to gather up the reins again and set her whole bodyweight against the mare, but it was no good. Belle was far too strong and she wasn’t listening. She was flat out in full gallop and didn’t slow down even slightly as she took the first fence, barging past Alex and Nicholas.

A few strides out from the next fence Georgie sat back in the saddle, pulling both reins as hard as she could. This time Belle flung her head in the air, nearly striking Georgie in the face with her poll. This was a nightmare! The more Georgie tried to slow Belle down, the more the mare defied her and flew at the fences. They took the jump at a blind gallop, Belle landed badly and nearly fell on the other side of the fence. Georgie managed to pull Belle’s head up to stop the mare from stumbling to her knees, but the shock of near-disaster made her realise the horrifying truth. She had absolutely no control whatsoever – Belle was bolting and Georgie couldn’t stop her.

At the fourth jump, the moment Belle felt the pressure of the bit in her mouth she resisted. The battle between her and Georgie made the mare go even wilder. They’d passed Emily Tait back at the last fence and were in the lead, but that had never been Georgie’s intention. This was supposed to be a slow, steady exercise, a display of the rider’s control of their horse. But Belle was the one in charge, and Georgie was helpless.

Over the next four fences, Belle never slowed down and Georgie felt as if her arms were about to be ripped out of their sockets. As they flew the final jump, Georgie was amazed that she was still on Belle’s back. It took her another half a kilometre to pull the mare up and by the time she came back to rejoin the others she was as white as a sheet and shaking. Tara looked worried.

“I’m fine,” Georgie insisted. But as she dismounted she felt her legs give way beneath her and Tara only just managed to grab her as Georgie collapsed on the ground.

“Put your head between your knees and take deep breaths,” Tara said as she crouched beside her.

“I tried to hold her, but she just kept fighting,” Georgie told Tara, her words trembly. “I don’t know why she’s like this on the cross-country. She was brilliant in the showjumping arena…”

Georgie took another deep breath and fought back the tears. She knew it sounded pathetic, but it was true. Belle had been fine in the showjumping. She’d been OK in Bettina’s dressage class last week as well. Why was it that in the only class that really mattered to Georgie, the mare always turned into a basket-case?