The Auditions

Georgie felt quite pleased until Tara added, “It’s the toughest course at Blainford. If a rider isn’t good enough they’re gone. Only half the students who start the year with me will make it through to the end. It’s dangerous too–the cross-country department holds the record for more broken bones than the rest of the school put together. Perhaps you might like to reconsider and take up showjumping–it’s a much safer option.”

And with that, Tara waved a brisk goodbye and headed back to the selectors’ tent. Georgie was wide-eyed as she watched her go. “Broken bones? Is she running a cross-country class or Accident and Emergency?”

Lucinda sighed. “Don’t be put off. Tara loves to come across as icy and strict when in fact she’s.” Lucinda paused. “Well, actually, that’s pretty much what she’s like. She’s a perfectionist–and at her peak she was ranked one of the best riders in the world. She’s a brilliant teacher. If you’re lucky enough to get into her class at Blainford you should jump at the chance.”

Although Tara turned down Lucinda’s offer of lunch, they had company as Olivia and her mum came over to join them. For dessert Mrs Prescott brought jam tarts and Lucinda produced her irresistible ginger crunch.

Olivia had two slices and then pronounced that the butterflies in her tummy now felt even worse than before.

“I’ve eaten too much! I won’t make it through in the jump-offs,” she groaned as she lay back on the ramp of the lorry holding her tummy.

“Yes,” Georgie agreed, “it was my cunning plan to invite you over to scoff all the ginger crunch.”

Olivia and Molly had put in a very professional round that morning, jumping the course so smoothly and cleanly they made it look easy, which it wasn’t. From the total pool of 116 riders, only a meagre fourteen had made it through to the next round. The rest were packing their horses into their lorries and trailers for the drive home.

“I can’t believe Sybil Hawley got through,” Georgie groaned. “Did you hear her mum shrieking on the sidelines?”

Olivia giggled, “Poor Sybil. I’d hate to have a mum like that.”

“What, noisy?” Georgie said.

“No, orange!” Olivia burst out laughing. Georgie collapsed with the giggles too. It had been really good fun hanging out with Olivia today. Georgie hoped that they would both make it through to the finals in Birmingham.

The next round that afternoon was a speed contest and the jumps had been raised to a metre twenty. Georgie was feeling confident about riding against the clock. Tyro was the fastest pony she had ever ridden and he was brilliant at tight turns. Georgie had walked the course and was planning on taking some very tricky, extreme shortcuts. The last two jumps were key for Georgie’s alternative route, cutting a corner to come in at the planks on a sharp angle. If they could pull it off this might slash their time by two whole seconds. It was a risky strategy, but worth it if they went clear.

At 2pm there was a briefing in the main arena for the remaining fourteen riders. They were told to arrive with their horses fully tacked up. “What is this about?” Georgie asked.

Lucinda frowned. “I’m not sure, but the selectors often like to throw a curve ball at this phase to test the riders. One year they made everyone take off their saddles and compete bareback.”

Georgie looked at the enormous jumps in the arena. It would be a nightmare trying to ride a course like that bareback! Surely the selectors weren’t planning the same thing?

As the riders organised themselves, Tara Kelly walked into the arena and stood in front of them. “Can all the riders please dismount and run up your stirrups,” she announced. “We’re going to make some last minute changes.”

Georgie dismounted nervously. She felt her palms sweating as she gripped the reins. As Tara Kelly strode back and forth with arms folded across her chest, Georgie felt sick with anticipation, certain that at any moment they would be instructed to remove their saddles. But this year Blainford’s chief selector had another trial in mind.

“I know how hard you have trained to be here,” Tara said. “You’ve schooled your ponies and become a team.” She paused. “I want to see what happens when that team is torn apart.”

Tara stepped forward and began walking down the line-up, handing each rider a folded-over piece of paper. “A great rider should be able to mount up on any horse and achieve a clear round,” Tara continued as she walked along handing out the papers. “This afternoon we’ll be testing your abilities on a horse that you’ve never ridden before.”

Tara handed out the last two to Olivia and Georgie.”On your piece of paper you’ll find the name of one of the horses in this arena.” Tara paused. “That’s the horse you’ll ride for the next round. As of right now, you are swapping mounts. The names have been chosen at random. There can be no complaints and no trading. You must ride the horse you have been given. The rules of the competition remain the same–a clear round in the fastest time will win. Two refusals in this round and you are out.” Tara looked at the line-up of stunned faces. “Please open your piece of paper.”

Georgie unfolded hers and felt her stomach lurch in shock.

Tara continued, “You may go and claim the horse.” No one moved. “Hurry up and find your horses!” Tara told them. “The first rider is due to jump in twenty minutes.”

The fourteen riders suddenly began running in all directions, dragging their horses behind them in a mad rush as they frantically searched for the horse they had been drawn to ride. Georgie hadn’t moved. She was staring at the paper in disbelief. She had drawn Caprice.

“Any tips for riding her?” Georgie asked as she walked over to take Sybil’s horse.

“You must be joking!” Sybil virtually flung the reins at her. “I’m not giving you any help!”

At least Sybil hadn’t been allocated Tyro, Georgie thought as she stood holding two horses. She was dreading handing over her beloved pony to some complete stranger and kept an anxious watch on anyone who approached her. Georgie was beyond relieved when Olivia came up positively beaming, waving Tyro’s name on her slip.

“I can’t believe I got him!” Olivia said. “Isn’t this the craziest thing you’ve ever seen?”

Her hands were shaking as she took Tyro’s reins. “I’ve had Molly for two years,” she explained. “I haven’t been on another horse for ages.”

“Tyro won’t give you any trouble,” Georgie reassured her. “He never refuses a jump, but he does rush fences sometimes so sit back between them.”

“OK.” Olivia was trying to take deep breaths. “I can do that.”

“He’s fast too,” Georgie said, stroking the Connemara’s pretty face, “and he’s good at correcting his own stride. Give him his head once you hit the treble and he’ll be fine.”

“Thanks!” Olivia said and smiled at Georgie. “I know he’s special. Don’t worry. I’ll look after him, I promise.”

Lucinda was thrilled with the horse-swap challenge. “I watched this mare jump in the last round. She’s very schooled and she’s got talent,” she said, adjusting the stirrups to fit Georgie’s legs which were much shorter than Sybil’s. “If Caprice can pull off a clear round with Sybil on her back then I’m sure you can get a clear round out of her too.”

Any reservations Georgie had about swapping horses disappeared once she was up on Caprice. She was a very positive pony with big paces and when

Georgie popped her over the practice jump the mare had her ears pricked and cantered on eagerly, taking the fence off a lovely forward stride.

As the riders warmed up, their names and numbers were called over the loudspeaker. Georgie was last to go. She didn’t know if this was good or bad. She had more time to warm up, but also more time to get nervous.

“Could rider number one, Ellie Trainor, please enter the ring,” the announcer called. Georgie watched as a girl on a strawberry roan came into the collection area looking tense. That morning the same girl had done a beautiful clear round on a bay mare, but as she rode at the first jump she seemed to lose her nerve and the strawberry roan slammed on the brakes and skidded into the fence. The girl gave a half-hearted whack with her crop and swung the horse around to try again. But the roan had lost confidence in her rider and had no intention of trying to jump. She gave an outright refusal, propping and baulking, and the bell rang. The first rider had been eliminated.

On the sidelines Lucinda frowned. “You must ride at the fences as if you really mean it, Georgie. If you’re half-hearted Caprice will sense your hesitation and you’ll fail.”

As each of the riders squared up to the first jump you could tell by the look on their face whether they would make it or not. There were some awful crashes as riders lost their bottle and ponies ploughed into jumps with last minute refusals. One of these riders was Sybil Hawley. The chestnut pony she was riding made a sudden stop in front of the jump–and Sybil didn’t. She flew over the pony’s neck and landed without a horse beneath her, on her bottom on the other side of the fence. Mrs Hawley would protest of course, but Sybil’s audition was well and truly over.

By the time Olivia and Tyro were up there had been no clear rounds at all. The best scores so far belonged to two riders with eight faults each. It was beginning to look like no one could make it clear on an unknown horse.

“Come on, Olivia!” Georgie called out from the sidelines. It was the strangest sensation, watching her own pony competing without her. Georgie felt a brief moment of anguish as she watched Tyro take the first jump with ease and desperately wished she were the one on his back. But Olivia rode him beautifully and when they took the last fence for the first clear round, Georgie was clapping louder than anyone.

“You should be proud of that round,” Lucinda told Georgie.

“But I wasn’t the one riding!” Georgie said.

“No, but you trained him. You’ve schooled Tyro well and it shows. He’s a credit to you.”

Olivia was totally smitten. “He is the most amazing pony,” she gushed to Georgie. “I know I’m being really cheeky saying this but if you ever decide to sell Tyro, will you please call me? I’d love to buy him!”

After Olivia went clear, the floodgates opened and by Georgie’s turn to ride there had been five clear rounds. To make the top three Georgie not only had to go clear, she also had to get a quick-smart time to beat the others on the clock.

It was a fine line to tread. If she went hell for leather then she risked making a mistake. All it would take was a single refusal or a rail down to totally blow her chances. But if she went too cautiously she might lose on time faults.

As she entered the arena Georgie urged Caprice into a steady canter and stood up in her stirrups in two-point position. She rode a lap around the fences, mentally mapping her route between the jumps. So far, no one had taken the shortcut that she’d been planning to take on Tyro. Should she risk it on an unknown horse or aim for a safe, clear round and hope her time would be good enough?

This time she heard the bell ring loud and clear. With a tip of her hat to the selectors, she rode one last lap around the perimeter and then came through the flags like a rocket. The clock was ticking. She had to go clear and make every second count.

Georgie rode at the first fence with almost too much energy and Caprice took off from too far back with a huge stride. Her hind legs scraped the rail and Georgie heard the crowd go “ohhh!” as the pole rocked in its cups. But it didn’t fall. She steadied the mare and took her time over the next few fences. Through the treble one… two … three! Georgie had got the striding perfection the jumps but she sensed that their time was far too slow. There were only two fences left. If Georgie wanted to beat the other clear rounds, she had to go for the shortcut.

Over number eight she had to virtually twist Caprice in mid-air, so that the mare landed at an angle. There was a gasp from the crowd as they realised what Georgie was doing and another as Caprice nearly hit a fence as she swerved to the right. Then, suddenly, the last jump loomed right in front of Georgie. She would almost have to jump it sideways to make it over.

Georgie took a deep breath and kicked on. Caprice put in one last stride and then lifted up into the air. There was a choked silence from the crowd. Would she get over? The turn had been so tight it seemed like an impossible leap.

Georgie had judged it like a pro! Caprice flew the fence with room to spare. As she landed on the other side the wild applause told Georgie all she needed to know. She had done it. Georgie was on her way to the finals.

Chapter Five

The crowd in the grandstand of Birmingham’s NEC Arena was buzzing with a sense of anticipation. They had already marvelled at the thrills and spills of the scurry races, and gasped at the fantastic Lipizzaner stunt horses performing Swan Lake.

“We do hope you’ve enjoyed the entertainment so far,” announcer Mike Partridge warbled to the audience. “Now it’s time for the main event. You’re about to see the very best young talent in Britain take the ride of their lives. It’s the grand final of the Blainford Academy auditions!”

The crowd gave a cheer and Mike Partridge continued his introduction. “The riders performing for us today are no older than thirteen years of age. All have passedrigorous tests to prove they’re the best in their chosen field. We’ve got eventers and showjumpers, polo players and dressage riders and we’ve even got a Western rider and natural horsemanship star making an appearance!

“Twenty young hopefuls competing for just five places. It’s the competition of a lifetime for these kids.” Mike Partridge paused. “We’ll meet the first of our twenty finalists in just a moment, but before we do that, let me introduce you to our selectors!”

Three giant spotlights flashed on to the arena, tracing circles of light across the golden sand before concentrating on the three judges sitting at the selectors’ table at the far end of the arena.

“Our first selector is a household name–winner of countless Horse of the Year titles, a showjumping superstar and the glamour girl of the British Olympic equestrian squad–it’s the one and only Helen Nicholson!”

The crowd cheered louder than ever as a very beautiful woman with dark brown hair, big brown eyes and a warm smile got up to give them a wave.

“Our next selector,” Mike Partridge began, “is an animal behaviourist whose books on horse training have sold millions. He’s also an Australian–but don’t hold that against him! Ladies and gentlemen–it’s Dr David McGee!” A handsome grey-haired man stood up and waved to the crowd who clapped politely.

“And finally,” Mike Partridge continued, “a woman who needs no introduction. Blainford’s senior selector is an international eventing superstar and a four-times winner of the Lexington Horse Trials. She’s a serious horsewoman–I should know, I’ve been trying all morning to get her to smile! Let’s give her a round of applause and see if she’ll give us a grin. Please welcome Tara Kelly!”

Tara Kelly gritted her teeth at the announcer’s sense of humour. Although it was her job to judge the finals, she had never really got used to the crowds, the lights and the theatrics that came with the event. Over the years, Blainford’s auditions had become more and more spectacular and grand finals night was now so renowned, it had become one of the most exciting events on the British equestrian calendar. All a bit over the top in Tara Kelly’s opinion, but despite her reservations she went along with it because as Blainford’s headmistress, Mrs Dickins-Thomson, pointed out to her, it was brilliant publicity for the school.

“C’mon, Tara, give us a wave, luv!” Mike Partridge coaxed and Tara rose from her seat and grinned and waved at the crowds in the stands. They were here to see a show after all.

Besides, in some ways the three-ring circus that had grown up around the event was a good thing, Tara reasoned. It added to the pressure and gave the twenty candidates waiting backstage a very real taste of what life was like under the spotlight. If you really wanted to be an international horse-riding superstar then these final auditions were a good test of character. Could the twenty riders all stay cucumber-cool when thousands were watching them and Mike Partridge was singing their praises over the loudspeaker?

Until now, the auditions had been divided into separate categories for eventers, showjumpers, dressage riders and so on. But the finals brought all the different disciplines together. With so many different kinds of riders auditioning, it wouldn’t be fair to rely on a single test to compare their skills. Instead, each of the twenty riders was required to create a freestyle performance. They would all have fifteen minutes in the arena and the selectors would cast votes with score cards.

Tara trusted her fellow judges. Helen and David were both experienced and had done the job alongside her before. She would listen carefully to their opinions but at the end of the day they knew that the final choice would always be hers.

“You’ve met our three selectors,” Mike Partridge called out. “Now, let’s meet our first finalist. She’s a dressage rider from Dundee and at only eleven years old she’s one of the youngest competitors today. She’s going to be performing a freestyle dressage kur for us on her lovely pony The Cheshire Cat. Here she is, Miss Sally Stevens!”

The music began, the lights came up and a very pretty skewbald pony entered the ring. He flew down the centre of the arena in a floating, extended trot and then halted in front of the judges. His rider, a slightly built girl in a blue showing jacket and banana jods, gave a stiff salute and then set off again at a collected canter.

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