Star Dancer (4 page)

‘
YOU
’
RE NEXT
,’
ANNE’S VOICE CALLED
. ‘Come on, Suzanne.’

Suddenly Suzanne’s mouth went dry. It always did just before a class. She drew a deep breath and made herself pat Dancer’s neck once more, for luck.

‘Here we go,’ she said to him under her breath.

They left the schooling area and followed Anne across the pavement to the main ring where the dressage was being judged. Suzanne was aware of people glancing at her and Dancer as they passed, but she tried not to think about anything but the test to come. Enter the ring, keep Dancer very straight, halt squarely, salute, move forward promptly …

She was allowed a warm-up circle around the outside of the dressage ring before she entered. This was to give horse and rider a chance to look at everything and settle down. Suzanne glanced at the stands as she rode, trying to see her father, but it all seemed to be one white blob of faces.

Then the bell rang and she turned to enter the ring.

‘Now, Dancer,’ she whispered. ‘For me.’

They were all alone, with everyone watching. One girl and one horse. Every step they took would be judged. The slightest mistake would show. A number of adults had already ridden the test, cutting up the grass and leaving a track around the edge of the ring. Some of them, Suzanne knew, were very good and had very expensive horses.

But Dancer was good too. Let’s show them how beautiful you
are, Dancer! She thought.

‘Your horse knows what you’re thinking,’ Anne had often said to Suzanne. ‘And if you’re very good, you can read his thoughts, too. To be a first class rider you must put yourself inside your horse’s mind.’

Suzanne tried to do that now. She could tell from the stiffness of Dancer’s pricked ears that he was tense, and that he was looking towards the judge’s box. Was he afraid the people in the box would move suddenly? Suzanne made her hands go softer on the reins, telling Dancer that it was all right, there was nothing to worry about. She felt the tension leave him as they came to a perfect halt in the exact middle of the dressage arena, and she nodded her head to salute the judge.

The judge, a large man with grey hair, gravely returned the salute, but his movement did not startle Dancer, who waited calmly for Suzanne to close her legs against his sides and tell him to go forward.

That was a good halt, Suzanne said to herself. A good start for the test.

She was pleased. Dancer could feel her pleasure in her hands, in her legs, in the way she sat in the saddle. With increasing confidence, he began moving through the familiar pattern of the dressage test that he and Suzanne had practised many times before.

Watching from the stands, Mr O’Gorman said to Ger, ‘Everything in a dressage test has a purpose. You see, what we called dressage began as a way of teaching war horses to be obedient on the battlefield. They had to learn to go forward even in the face of guns. They had to be able to wheel and turn at any
moment, to speed up or slow down, and even to take great leaps or move sideways to carry their riders away from danger. When we watch a horse do a dressage test now, we’re seeing the patterns that were used to train those war horses. Suzanne taught me all that,’ he added with a smile.

‘But it looks like dancing,’ Ger replied.

Mr O’Gorman nodded. ‘It does, yes. The horse has to become very agile, like a dancer. And modern dressage horses must look very beautiful in motion, that’s part of it. Suzanne tells me that a dressage horse should look as if he’s doing everything of his own free will, for the joy of it.’

For the joy of it. Yes, thought Ger, his eyes glued to Star Dancer. That is how it looks. The horse was out there in the middle of the ring dancing for the joy of it, and he just happened to be carrying Suzanne along.

Suddenly Ger longed with all his heart to be sitting on Star Dancer himself, dancing for the joy of it.

The test was over.

Suzanne’s heart was beating fast, and she knew there was a smile on her face. ‘We did it, Dancer,’ she whispered to her horse as they halted again for the final salute. They hadn’t made any bad mistakes, though she knew Anne would tell her a lot of things could have been better. Dressage could always be improved. It wasn’t like jumping. When you jumped, you either got over the jump or you didn’t.

I mustn’t think of jumping, she reminded herself. But in that moment her muscles had tightened and Dancer felt her nervousness. He lifted his head and shifted weight, refusing to stand still for the salute.

In his box, the judge frowned and told his secretary to write something down on the scoresheet kept for each rider.

Ger did not know Star Dancer had made a mistake. He only knew that the horse was beautiful. The horse stood for everything that was missing from his own life.

He noticed other grooms going to meet their riders, so he slipped out of his seat and ran down to meet Suzanne as she came out of the dressage ring. ‘That was brilliant!’ he told her.

She shook her head. ‘I made a mistake,’ she said. ‘I ruined the final halt, it was my fault.’

Ger had never heard anyone admit a mistake so easily. He was surprised. When he did something wrong, he never admitted it.

Suzanne slid off her horse. ‘We’ll take him back to the stable now and cool him off,’ she told Ger, ‘and then you can help Mr Walsh for the rest of the day. I know he’ll be glad to have an extra hand this afternoon.’

Ger had almost forgotten about his promise to groom some ponies for Brendan Walsh. For the first time, he wondered what Anto and the others would say.

And where were they?

He looked around. Then he saw them. A uniformed guard had Anto and Rags by the arm, walking them towards the nearest exit. Danny was trotting along behind, arguing, but the guard wasn’t paying any attention. He was frowning sternly and not being too gentle with the boys.

Anto looked at Ger, and yelled. ‘That’s me mate, he sneaked in with us lot! Throw him out too!’

Ger stiffened. People were looking at him. Then he remembered the groom’s badge Brendan Walsh had given him. He
held it up so the guard could see it. The man paused for a moment, then nodded and went on, taking the other three to the exit to throw them out for not paying admission.

I can stay, Ger thought with a sense of surprise. I can stay! I belong here!

‘Those were the friends you were telling me about,’ Suzanne said. ‘The ones who wanted to see you on a horse.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Now they won’t get to. But … but if you’d like, you can ride Dancer back to the stable. I’ll lead him, but you can sit in the saddle. If you want to. I can’t pay you for helping me, but I can let you have a ride anyway.’

Ger swallowed hard.

Suzanne had never seen anyone’s face light up the way Ger’s face did. She’d been angry with herself about the mistake she made during the dressage test, but now she felt better. It was great to be able to make someone else happy.

She could sense that Ger was not usually a happy person. In the same way in which she could feel Dancer’s moods, she could sense a sadness in her new friend. A pat on the neck wouldn’t help him, but if he sat on Dancer and saw the world from high up on a horse’s back, he would definitely be more cheerful.

Suzanne always felt better when she was actually on Dancer. Even the nightmares seemed to fade, though he was part of them. But she must not think about the nightmares. The dressage test was over, they hadn’t done too badly, and she was going to make Ger Casey smile!

‘Come over here to the fence and get on from the rail,’ she told him, pulling the stirrup down for him to reach.

With a jump and a scramble, Ger was on Star Dancer. Suzanne held the horse by the bridle so he wouldn’t shy away from Ger’s awkwardness. She wouldn’t have mounted a strange horse so eagerly, but Ger seemed absolutely unafraid. He sat down in the saddle and at once reached for the reins.

‘I’d better hold him,’ Suzanne said. ‘At least until you get used to him, and he gets to know you.’

Ger nodded. He was on a horse, that was the important thing. He was on Star Dancer!

He looked around. From up here, people, even grown-ups, looked smaller. You could see much farther. The whole world shrank a little and Ger felt tall and powerful. This was great, like being a king or a general!

Then Dancer moved. Ger caught his breath. For a moment he’d forgotten he was sitting on a living creature.

‘Just relax and let your body follow his movements,’ Suzanne told him the way Anne had told her. She began to lead Dancer forward at a walk.

For the smallest moment, Ger wanted to clutch at the front of the saddle. But other riders didn’t hold on. He wouldn’t either. Remembering how Suzanne looked when she rode, he sat up as tall and straight as he could and tried to look as if he did this every day.

The way the horse moved felt good under him as soon as he got used to it. Although they were only walking, everything seemed to go by very fast.

‘Suzanne!’ Anne and Mr O’Gorman caught up with them. ‘They’re calling your number, you’ve won fifth place. Come back to the ring.’

‘Fifth place?’ Suzanne sounded as if she didn’t believe it.

‘You should’ve got first,’ said Ger from the saddle.

Mr O’Gorman glanced in surprise at the boy on his daughter’s horse.

‘I was lucky to get fifth against all the adults,’ Suzanne told Ger. ‘I made a mess of it at the end. I’m sorry, Ger, you’ll have to get off now if we’re to go back to the ring.’

Ger slid off. The ground was a lot farther down than he had thought. He hated getting off Dancer. He wanted the ride to go on forever, him the king of the world up there with the big warm horse under him and the sun shining on them.

He followed Dancer and the others back to the ring, and waited while Suzanne went in with her horse to claim her rosette. Everyone clapped. She was the only child to have won a place in the dressage.

‘That’s my girl,’ Mr O’Gorman said proudly.

Ger wondered what it’d be like to have a father who watched you win things, and was proud of you.

As she came out of the ring, Suzanne winked at Ger. He looked strangely sad standing there, a little apart from her dad and Anne. She said to him for the others to hear, ‘This is partly your win too, Ger. Dancer’s never looked so good.’

As if to agree, Dancer stretched out his neck and bumped Ger gently with his nose.

I wish the gang could see this, Ger thought. Then he remembered. They’d been thrown out of the RDS. They’d be livid. They might take it out on him, there’d probably be a right mill when he got home.

Ger wasn’t afraid of a fight.

But he didn’t want to go home. He never wanted to go home. He told Suzanne, ‘I’ll help you clean up Dancer and get the sweat off him, and then I’ll groom ponies for that friend of yours. The one who said he’d pay me.’

That would keep him at the Spring Show for the rest of the day, anyway, and away from the flat.

Mr O’Gorman could not stay at the show. He had to go back to work. Before he left, however, he took Anne aside.

‘What do you know about this lad, this Ger Casey?’ he asked the riding instructor.

Anne shrugged. ‘Not much. The poor scrap arrived in here yesterday looking as if he needed a friend, and you know Suzanne. She sort of adopted him.’

‘She’s taken in every stray cat and lost puppy she’s ever seen,’ Suzanne’s father replied. ‘But I’m not sure her mother would approve of this. She likes to know who Suzanne’s friends are.’

Anne smiled. ‘I’d say there’s no harm in the lad. He could do with a bit of a wash, but couldn’t we all after a day in the stable. Besides, he’s a hard worker, I’ll say that for him. Whatever he’s given to do, he does as if his life depended on it. You don’t find many like that these days. He’ll do anything just to be around horses, I suspect. It takes some kids like that.’ The instructor’s eyes twinkled. ‘I remember. I was a horse-mad child myself once. I know the look.’

When Star Dancer had been groomed again until he shone as if he were going into another class, Ger helped Suzanne put his stable rug on and then went to help Brendan Walsh.

Suzanne had meant to go and watch some of the jumping, but instead she hung around the stable keeping an eye on her new
friend.

Once or twice he did something wrong. Then she would saunter over to him and say in a low voice no one else could hear, ‘You’ve got a wrinkle in that numnah, under the saddle. Take the saddle off and start again, or it might make the pony’s back sore.’ Or, ‘You have to leave the stirrups up until the rider is ready to mount. Otherwise they might catch on something and damage the saddle.’

Ger listened carefully and followed her instructions. She never had to tell him anything twice.

Brendan Walsh was quietly watching Ger too. He had soon realised the boy was a stranger to horses, but he was impressed by how quickly Ger was learning and how willing he was.

What is it about horses? Brendan wondered to himself. A lot of hard work, a lot of sweat and tears and disappointments, that’s what they are. Does the lad think it’s just a game, a bit of fun for a sunny Sunday? Or will it get into his blood like it got into mine?

He hasn’t two pence to rub together, I’d say. The most he can hope for is to work his way up to head lad in some big stables, if he’s lucky. Unless …

Unless he’s one of those rare ones who not only loves horses, but has a special talent for them. For youngsters like that, no matter what their background, there’s a chance. If they can attract the attention of a sponsor, the sky’s the limit.

Brendan shrugged and went back to his own work. He had never possessed that special talent. But he thought there was at least one young rider in the stables who did, if she could only make the most of it – Suzanne O’Gorman.

WHEN IT WAS ALMOST TIME
for her father to come to collect her and take her home with him, Suzanne gave Star Dancer one last hug around his silky neck, whispered, ‘Thank you for today!’ into his ear, and slipped him one last lump of forbidden sugar. She promised herself she wouldn’t do it again. But the rosette on the door entitled Dancer to a special reward, she thought.

Then she went to find Brendan Walsh.

Ger was still working. When he had finished cleaning the ponies, he had asked if there was anything else that needed to be done. So Brendan had put him to mucking out, which was the nastiest of jobs. But the boy did not complain. His only remark was, ‘I’ve smelled worse than this muck,’ as he shovelled manure into a basket.

Suzanne had never seen anyone so eager to work. He doesn’t want to go home, she thought to herself. She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew.

‘Mr Walsh,’ she asked, ‘do you think you could, maybe, offer Ger a real job? When school’s finished? That’s just a few weeks from now.’

Brendan scratched his head. ‘I s’pose I could, if he wants it. But he’s really too young, you know.’

‘He said he was fifteen. Almost.’

Brendan’s lips twitched. ‘And you believed him. That lad’s not fifteen. Thirteen, maybe. At the most.’

‘He’s very poor,’ Suzanne said, as if that was an answer to
everything. ‘He didn’t even have money to buy lunch. He needs a job, and he’s well able for it, you’ve seen him today.’

‘I have,’ Brendan agreed. ‘And I was working in a stable yard when I was no older than that myself. But how do you know he wants a job? Or if his parents would let him take it?’

‘I’ll ask him,’ Suzanne said.

Ger was just beginning to scrub out the water buckets when he heard her voice behind him. ‘Ger, would you be interested in working in a stables this summer?’

He whirled around. ‘Are you serious?’

‘I am. I just asked Mr Walsh if he’d give you a job in the stables where I keep Dancer. If you want it.’

Ger stiffened. Did she think he needed charity from that crowd of snobs? ‘I don’t need no job,’ he said. ‘I’ve got plenty of stuff to do now.’

‘I mean in the school holidays.’

School. Ger didn’t always go to school any more. Some days he just didn’t bother, days when his mother was what she called sick.

‘The stables are only a short walk from the bus,’ Suzanne said helpfully. ‘I mean, if you like the idea. I know you’d have to ask your parents, of course, but I thought …’

‘I don’t have to ask anybody,’ Ger said shortly.

‘What about your family?’

‘My old fella’s … away. My Mam, she, well …’

He seemed embarrassed. Suzanne tried to change the subject. ‘Have you any brothers and sisters?’

‘Me sister’s the oldest, she’s married and lives away. I’ve three brothers who’re in England, and the one just older than me, he’s still at home. But not very often. Mostly it’s just me and Mam at
home now. So there’s no one to ask.’

‘Except your mother,’ Suzanne insisted.

‘Yeah. Well. I s’pose I could ask her all right. If I wanted to.’

‘Don’t you want to? I thought you liked being around horses. You could even learn to ride.’

‘I can ride. I can ride all right. Didn’t I tell you I ride my uncle’s horses all the time.’

Suzanne had forgotten about the uncle in Kildare. ‘Oh. Then maybe you’ll want to work for him.’

‘I … uh … I don’t want to work for him. I …’

Ger ran out of words again. Lying had never bothered him before, it was a habit. He wondered if the horses and ponies all around them knew he was lying.

‘Then say you’ll work for Mr Walsh this summer!’ Suzanne cried eagerly. ‘C’mon Ger, do! Dancer wants you to.’

‘He does?’ Ger was astonished. ‘How d’you know?’

‘He told me.’

‘Horses can’t talk.’

‘Horses can talk. Not with words, but other ways, Ger. They can really. You’ll see. And it’ll be great having you there this summer. I’m entering Dancer in some dressage shows and you can help me get him ready. I can’t pay you, but if you’re at the stables anyway, I can pay you in rides on him, maybe. Say you will. Ah Ger, say you will!’

It was the first time in Ger’s memory that anyone had ever gone out of their way to try to help him. He didn’t know how to take it. Suzanne was one of The Enemy. She had things, she had money and a family and she probably lived in some fancy house with stained glass in the windows and a garden with flowers in it. He
shouldn’t have anything to do with her. Or with her fancy horse and the fancy stables.

But it wasn’t really so fancy. Taking care of horses was hard work, Ger had discovered. And Brendan Walsh and the others weren’t fancy, they were just ordinary people who liked him as long as he did his share of the work.

‘Yeah,’ Ger heard himself say before he knew he was going to say it. ‘I’ll take the job then. Why not?’ He shrugged one shoulder as if it didn’t mean very much.

But it did.

That night in the car going home, Suzanne told her father about her good deed. ‘Mr Walsh has promised to hire Ger to work at the stableyard this summer when school’s over. I asked him.’

Her father turned his head to look at her briefly, then swung his gaze back to the road. ‘Oh Suzanne, you and your tender heart. I hope you haven’t made a mistake.’

‘How could it be a mistake to help someone?’

‘It isn’t, of course. But we don’t know anything about the lad.’

‘I do. His dad’s away, he’s the youngest of six children and they haven’t much money. And Star Dancer likes him. Anne says you can trust a person that horses trust.’ Then, because she couldn’t resist it, Suzanne had to ask her father, ‘Were we really good today, Dancer and me?’

He smiled. ‘You were really good. Everyone said so.’

She nodded, satisfied. ‘It was Dancer mostly. He did the good parts. The mistakes were mine.’

After Suzanne went home, Ger stayed in the stable until Brendan Walsh himself was ready to leave. One of the other grooms would remain on duty and actually sleep with the horses,
but Brendan would be sleeping with some other head grooms in a flat near the RDS.

As Brendan made a final check on the animals in his care, he became aware of Ger following close behind him. The boy almost trod on his heels. Brendan paused and dug into his pockets, pulling out some coins for the boy’s pay. ‘Is someone coming to take you home?’ he asked Ger.

‘Take me home?’ Ger said blankly. ‘What d’you mean?’

‘Drive you. In a car.’

‘Oh, I can walk,’ Ger assured him.

‘Do you live near here? It’s late, you know.’

‘I’m used to being out late. I’m not a little kid, you know.’

‘Well. All right.’ Brendan dropped the coins into Ger’s outstretched hand. ‘I’m giving you an extra fifty pence because you did such good work,’ he said. ‘I like that. It’s good to see a young one put his back into it.’

Ger didn’t know how to respond to praise. He looked at the ground and mumbled something, feeling the back of his neck grow red. The pound coins clinked as he shoved them deep into the pocket of his jeans. They felt heavy, like hidden treasure.

It was the first money he had ever earned.

When he walked out through the big gates, the guard on duty nodded goodnight to him. To him, Ger Casey.

Walking home through the city, he wondered what the gang would say when he saw them next. There mightn’t be a fight. Suppose he told them some story … yeah. Suppose he said he’d been hired as a spy by some foreign agents! That sounded good. Hired by some mysterious secret agents who thought no one would suspect a young lad. ‘My friend Suzanne’s da is really a spy
himself, you see,’ the story would begin, ‘and he asked me to …’

But Ger didn’t see any of the gang on the way home. He spoke to no one until he got to the flat and found his big brother Donal there, sitting at the table with the remains of a ham sandwich in front of him on the stained oilcloth.

‘Where’ve you been?’ Donal wanted to know.

The story about spies wouldn’t work with Donal. Donal was seventeen. ‘Out,’ Ger said simply.

‘Yeah. Well. Now you’re here to sit with Mam, I’m going out too.’ Donal stood up and prepared to leave. Sometimes he didn’t even come home at night. But he always had money. Ger knew that, though he didn’t know where Donal got money. He never had a job.

I have a job, Ger thought, hugging the secret to himself. ‘Is there any more to eat?’ he asked, looking at the bits of sandwich.

‘Sorry, that’s all there was. Might be a tin of soup though. Ask Mam.’

‘Where is she?’

‘Inside in the bed. Sick,’ Donal added. Then he hurried from the flat as if glad to go.

Ger looked towards the closed bedroom door. Sick with drink, he knew, without having to open the door. He didn’t want to open the door. He was afraid of what lay behind.

He searched. There was no tin of soup. But he had a bit of money in his pocket and the local shop might still be open.

Every day that week, as soon as Suzanne got home from school she changed into jeans and a jumper and ran down the road to the
stables and Star Dancer. The days were growing longer as summer approached. There was enough light to ride until quite late. There were also lights in the indoor schooling ring, so people could ride indoors in bad weather. Suzanne stayed at the stables until late, though she always had to be home to lay the table for her mother and do her homework.

‘Be careful,’ her mother said each time she left for the stables.

Suzanne knew her mother stood in the doorway watching her as far as the bend in the road. But she wouldn’t come to the stables and see her ride. She made excuses. She had to go shopping, or she didn’t feel well, or the Bed and Breakfast business was taking all her time.

Yet there were photos of her in the family album, showing her jumping horses over big fences. As a girl, Suzanne’s mother had been as mad about horses as Suzanne was now.

‘When I was little I used to take out the album and look at the pictures of my mum riding and want to be just like her,’ Suzanne once confided to Anne Fitzpatrick.

‘Your mother was a fine rider in her day.’

‘Then why doesn’t she want to watch me ride now?’

Anne scratched her head. ‘I don’t know, Suzanne. You’d have to ask her that yourself.’

But Mrs O’Gorman always managed to turn away the question, or change the subject. Suzanne never got an answer.

Sometimes, as she rode Dancer in the cool evenings, Suzanne wondered about the mystery of her mother.

‘There’s no reason to worry about me when I’m with you,’ she said to Dancer. ‘You’d never hurt me, I know.’ Except in the nightmare, of course. But the nightmare wasn’t real.

Suzanne hated being afraid. She thought of Ger Casey who had said he wasn’t afraid of anything.

On Friday afternoon a brilliant sun was shining and the soft, warm wind smelled like hay and flowers. Suzanne felt so good she thought she would burst out of her skin. Fear had no place on such a day, she told herself.

She was riding Dancer in the large grassy meadow beyond the yard. A level area was set aside there for dressage practice, but there was also a series of low timber fences, little more than logs on the ground. The smallest ponies could jump them.

Suzanne kept looking over at them. ‘What do you think?’ she said to Dancer. ‘We could just canter over there and pop over one. Want to?’

Dancer swivelled one ear back towards her.

‘I’d really like to jump today,’ Suzanne told him, making her voice sound strong and confident. A horse mustn’t know his rider was afraid, or he might be afraid too. Anne had told Suzanne that lots of times.

‘Let’s go,’ Suzanne said to Dancer, tightening her legs against his sides and turning him towards the nearest jump.