Riding Star

When she finally got the mare to walk on and could concentrate on what Bettina was saying, Georgie realised that she didn’t actually understand most of Bettina’s instructions anyway.

“Ride from the hindquarters!” Bettina kept telling her. “Now try to feel each stride. Volte! Stay off the forehand!”

For all Georgie knew a volte might be a handstand! As it turned out, it was just a little circle. They spent the lesson doing endless little circles at the walk, and then bigger ones, also at the walk.

It was all so precise, so detailed and so… very, very boring.

“That was a brilliant lesson!” Isabel Weiss’s eyes were bright with enthusiasm as they led the horses back to the stables after class. “I really noticed how deep my seat was by the end of the session, didn’t you, Georgie?”

“Uh-huh,” Georgie agreed, stifling a yawn. “Do you want to come back to Stars of Pau with us after we unsaddle?” Mitty offered. “We’ve got a DVD that shows you how to do a piaffe in ten easy steps. We were going to watch it before dinner.”

“Umm, maybe some other time,” Georgie said. “I’ll catch you guys later, OK?”

It was a relief to be alone again in the loose box with Belle. As Georgie unsaddled the mare she was surprised to see that she wasn’t even sweating under her numnah. Mind you, Georgie thought, why would Belle break a sweat when she had only been dawdling around for the past hour and a half?

Georgie looked at her watch. It was quarter to five. It would be dark by five-thirty; she should really be untacking and heading back to the house. But she felt as if she hadn’t really had a proper ride.

“Come on, Belle,” she murmured to the mare, flinging the saddle over her back again and tightening the girth once more. “Let’s go – just you and me.”

*

Snow had begun falling as Georgie set out along the bridle path at the back of the stables. She watched the white flakes floating down from the sky, landing on Belle’s jet-black mane. Georgie usually kept it neatly pulled so that it was short and tidy for plaiting, but over the holidays it had grown lustrous and long. Belle’s hunter clip was growing out too. It had been almost a term since Georgie clipped her in grooming class.

Georgie’s own hair was braided in two thick, blonde plaits and as she put on her helmet to leave the stables she came up with the genius idea of twisting her plaits and shoving the ends through the ear-hole sections at the sides of her helmet so her hair would cover and protect her ears from the cold. It looked a bit weird with her plaits poking out from her helmet at odd angles, but Georgie figured that no one was going to see her.

She rode past the snug indoor arena where they had spent their dressage lesson. It felt good to be outdoors, to feel the icy bite of the winter chill against her bare cheeks.

As soon as they were clear of the stables and had passed through the gateway where the bridle path led to the open fields, Georgie urged Belle into a trot. The mare had lovely, floaty paces and she lifted up beneath Georgie like a hovercraft, arching her neck and taking the reins forward. She snorted and pulled, keen to canter.

“Steady, girl,” Georgie cautioned the mare. The track was twisty and turny, and the ice had made the surface slippery – not ideal for canter work. Georgie decided to turn off the track, riding the mare across the open pasture towards an uphill stretch that led to the woods. As soon as they reached the hill Georgie tipped up into two-point position, put her legs on and Belle responded eagerly, her legs working like dark pistons making holes in the white snow.

Belle knew the terrain here well and, even though it was covered in snow, Georgie trusted the mare to be sure-footed as they cantered on. It felt so good to have some fun instead of walking around getting in touch with your seatbones!

As they crested the top of the hill, Georgie pulled Belle back to a trot as she saw the rider up ahead of her. At a distance all that Georgie could make out was the colour of the horse – a chestnut – and the rider’s jersey – ice blue, the colour of Burghley House. Knowing her luck it would be Conrad Miller, and he would find some pathetic school rule about not being allowed out in the snow and give her Fatigues.

She had just decided to turn round and give them a wide berth, when the rider on the chestnut horse waved to her.

Georgie steadied Belle and peered at the horizon. The rider on the chestnut waved once more and then urged his horse on into a canter, coming up the hill from the other side towards her. Georgie watched the way he rode, completely fearless, relying on his perfect balance to control the horse, with reins held so long they were almost at the buckle. And then she realised that she knew him.

It was James Kirkwood.

James cantered right up to her and pulled his horse to a halt. “Hi, Parker. Have a good holiday?”

Suddenly face to face with him, Georgie’s first thought was her hair. The hair earmuff trick had worked – her ears were nice and toasty. But she knew that she must look ridiculous, like some sort of demented Pippi Longstocking. And here she was for the first time with the boy who had dumped her last term.

“My holidays?” Georgie said, self-consciously trying to flatten her sticky-outy plaits. “OK, I guess.”

James grinned. “Don’t give me too much detail, will you? We might end up having a conversation.”

Georgie wanted more than anything to pull her helmet off and fix the plaits, but she was certain she would have helmet-hair underneath. Luckily James didn’t seem to have noticed the weird hairdo.

“I went back home to Little Brampton,” she said. “Dad cooked a massive Christmas dinner and everyone came over. Apart from that I was at Lucinda’s helping out at the stables. How about you?”

“The usual Kirkwood family Christmas,” James groaned. “The stepmom spent the whole time planning cocktail parties for people that she doesn’t even like. Dad disappeared with the hounds every day and Kennedy and I managed to stay in different wings of the house most of the time so we could avoid speaking to each other.”

“Sounds like fun,” Georgie said dryly.

“Belvedere misses you,” James added, referring to the big brown hunter that Georgie had ridden when she had stayed at the Kirkwood mansion. “I took him for a hack to cheer him up and we went down to the edge of the woods – you know, where we went that day?”

He gave Georgie that cute lopsided grin of his. She knew the woods that James meant. They had been out hunting and they had somehow ended up there alone. That was when he kissed her. Georgie felt herself blush. Was James flirting with her again?

“So anyway,” James tried to sound casual, “are you still seeing that guy? The one you were with at the School Formal? What’s his name again?”

“Riley,” Georgie said. She wasn’t about to tell James that she hadn’t spoken to Riley since the Formal, or that she wasn’t even sure if she was still dating him.

“He doesn’t go to Blainford, does he?” James asked.

“No,” Georgie said, “he’s at Pleasant Hill High School.”

“So this Riley,” James said. “How did you meet him if he doesn’t go to school here?”

“He’s Kenny’s nephew,” Georgie said. “He was helping me to school Belle.”

“So, he’s some kind of horse whisperer?” James sneered.

“No,” Georgie said, “He rides trackwork. Racehorses.”

“Does he have his own stables?”

“You’re asking a lot of questions about him,” Georgie frowned. “You’re acting like my dad.”

“Am I?” James said, a fraction too quickly. “I’m just wondering what you see in him, that’s all. A guy like that…”

“Like what?” Georgie said.

“You know,” James said. “He’s not one of us, is he?”

“I didn’t know there was an ‘us’,” Georgie said.

“Oh, yeah,” James said. “Totally. There’s a ‘you’, and there’s a ‘me’ and I definitely think there’s an ‘us’…”

As he said this he reached out a hand and gently touched Georgie’s cheek. “You’ve got a snowflake on you,” he said. “I thought I’d better wipe it off.”

Suddenly Georgie’s cheeks burned so hot they could have thawed a snowdrift.

“I better get back,” she somehow managed to get the sentence out. “It’s getting late.”

“I’ll come with you,” James said. “This snow is getting pretty heavy.”

They walked back down the hill, both of them staying off the subject of Riley. Instead, they talked about their new classes for the term. James was a year ahead of Georgie and he was a showjumper. But he’d already decided that next year he would switch his option and major in polo.

“I tried to fight it, I guess,” he said. “It was just such a cliché, what with my dad being on the school polo team when he was at Blainford. I wanted to be different, but I’m playing for Burghley this season and Heath Brompton, the polo master, thinks I could go pro one day. I guess it’s in the blood, you know. Like with you and your mom and eventing.”

“Not so much,” Georgie groaned. “I’m out of the cross-country class this term, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” James winced. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. What are you taking instead?”

“Dressage,” Georgie said.

“And it’s not going well?” “It’s so boring,” Georgie said. “And everything is complicated. It’s like she’s speaking a foreign language.”

“German?”

Georgie giggled. Bettina was also her German teacher. “I’ll get used to it, I suppose,” Georgie said, trying to sound positive.

They had arrived at the turn-off that led to her stables.

“Well, this is me,” she said.

“I guess I’ll see you later.” “I guess you will,” James said. He turned his chestnut to ride away and then he halted the horse and looked back at her.

“By the way,” he gave her that killer grin, “love the Princess Leia plaits.”

*

Georgie didn’t know quite what to make of her conversation with James. He’d seemed jealous at the mention of Riley – but he was the one that had split up with her! Although, it wasn’t actually James’s fault that they’d broken up – it was Kennedy’s meddling that had caused it.

Her heart was still thudding as she unsaddled Belle and rugged the mare up for the evening, letting her loose with her hard feed. Did James want to get back together again? And was that what she wanted too?

It must have been freezing cold as she walked back from the stable block to Badminton House, but Georgie didn’t notice. She felt as if she were floating like a snowflake, light and ethereal. It was getting late and the skies were darkening. As she walked along the driveway the lights above her began flickering on. They glowed overhead, lighting her way like a row of tiny moons illuminating the road between the school and the boarding houses.

Still walking on air, Georgie bounded up the steps of Badminton House. She was about to open the door when she heard the voice behind her.

“Georgie!”

She turned round. There was a boy, his dark brown hair squashed underneath a woollen beanie. He was wearing a blue and black checked shirt and dark denim jeans. Swinging the door shut on his red pick-up truck he walked up the path and that was when Georgie saw the bunch of white flowers in his hand that were clearly intended for her.

It was Riley.

Chapter Three

“Welcome back,” Riley said, holding out the white lilies to her.

Georgie had never been given flowers before – apart from the time her dad bought her a pot plant when she was in hospital having her tonsils out, but that didn’t really count. The lilies had a deep, musky perfume. Snow was falling on the petals. They were still standing there on the doorstep and no one was saying anything.

“Hey,” Riley broke the silence. “I’m sorry that I never called you after the Formal. I got really busy with the horses and—”

“I can’t ask you in,” Georgie blurted out. “We’re not allowed to have boys in the boarding house without a permission note. Besides, I have to get changed for dinner.”

They stood there for another moment or two, and then Riley raked a hand uneasily through his hair and grabbed his keys out of his coat pocket. “It’s OK,” he said, looking back over his shoulder at the pick-up truck. “I’ve gotta go anyway. I promised Uncle Kenny I’d bring the truck back straight away and I’ve been waiting here a while now.”

He smiled at Georgie. “I just wanted to say hi, you know, and that…” he hesitated, “I’ve missed you while you were away.”

Then he looked embarrassed. “Anyway,” he began, backing down the stairs towards the truck, “I better go now.”

He was halfway back down the path when Georgie called after him, “Riley, wait!”

He turned round. “Yeah?” “Thanks for the flowers. They’re really beautiful.” Riley smiled. “I’ll give you a call, OK?”

He got in the pick-up, slammed the door and drove off. Georgie watched the tail-lights disappear into the dark and then went inside. The clock on the wall said six-fifteen, which meant that all the boarders would be in their rooms getting ready for dinner. The first-year boarders all lived downstairs, and each of them shared a room with one other girl. Georgie had been sharing with Alice Dupree ever since Alice took the liberty of swapping her name for Daisy King’s on their first day of school.

Alice was lying on her bed when Georgie came in. She was studying a riding manual and had it open to a page about fitting martingales.

“Nice lilies,” she said without looking up from her book. “Riley must have spent a fortune on them.”

“How did you know they were from Riley?” Georgie asked.

“Because he’s been sitting out there in that pick-up truck for the past two hours waiting for you,” Alice said.

Georgie was shocked. “He’s been out there all that time?”

“I took him a cup of hot chocolate about an hour ago,” Alice said. “He looked really cold.”

Georgie had been so shocked to have Riley just turn up on the doorstep like that, she hadn’t known how to deal with him at all. He’d turned up out of the blue at the School Formal too. Didn’t he know how to use a phone?

“Why are you so late, anyway?” Alice asked. “School finished ages ago. Were you having so much fun studying dressage that you couldn’t drag yourself away?”

Georgie shook her head. “I went for a hack after class. And then I saw James.”

Alice frowned. “You mean Riley?”

“No. I saw James first. I took Belle out on the bridle paths behind the stables and I ran into James. And we… talked.”

Alice looked suspicious. “When you say that you ‘talked’,” she did air quotes round the word, “does that actually mean you really talked or do you mean… you know…”

Georgie’s eyes went wide. “No, Alice! I have not been out on a snog-a-thon with James Kirkwood!”

“Well, what about Riley then?” Alice asked.

Georgie shook her head. “There was no kissing! We hardly even spoke. I took the flowers and then I kind of ran. It was pretty bad. I was confused.”

“But you’re dating Riley, right?” Alice said. “I thought everything was all on with you two after the School Formal?”

Georgie flopped face-down on the bed and groaned. “Is it? I don’t know. I thought it was, but then he never even called me. I spent all the holidays wondering what was going on and thinking that maybe it was over and now he turns up with flowers.”

“Don’t complain. At least someone is buying you flowers,” Alice replied. “I’m giving up on Cam.”

“Really?” Georgie said. “I thought you guys were getting on really well.”

“We do get on well,” Alice said. “It’s just… he doesn’t think of me, you know, like that. I’m not some bombshell like Kennedy Kirkwood.”

“That’s not true,” Georgie said. “It is!” Alice insisted. “Cameron stares at her like a puppy looking at a bag of Purina. He doesn’t even notice me.”

“You just need to get his attention. You’ve got to do something to make him notice you.”

There was a knock at the door and Emily stuck her head in.

“Are you guys coming to dinner or what? We’ve been waiting for you for ages!”

*

When Georgie had first arrived at Blainford last September the walk to the dining hall each evening hadn’t been a big deal. It had been early autumn and the stroll up the tree-lined driveway had been kind of fun.

Now winter had set in and the five hundred metres from their boarding house to the main buildings of the school seemed like an intrepid hike up the Himalayas. It was freezing cold, and the girls were bundled up in school scarves, jerseys and blazers over their winter uniform of a navy wool pinafore and long black wool tights.

“I think we should be allowed to layer our jods underneath our pinafores in winter,” Alice said, teeth chattering with cold as they walked round the quad to the door of the dining hall.

“We could wear them underneath our tights,” Emily suggested. “Maybe no one would notice.”

When they reached the dining-room doors they were relieved to see that the queue didn’t stretch all the way outside and they were able to go straight indoors where it was warm. The dining room was one of the oldest buildings in the school. Outside, it was red Georgian brick, like the other buildings that surrounded the quad. Inside, the walls were dark-wood panelled, and hung with photos of famous riders who had once attended the academy. According to the blackboard menu, tonight’s dinner was ‘Meatloaf a la Betty-Lou’.

Alice wrinkled up her nose. “If the menu says meatloaf then why does it smell like fish?”

Daisy King shrugged. “I suppose it’s better than fish smelling like meatloaf.”

The girls took their loaded trays and stood in the centre of the dining hall, waiting for Georgie to have her food dished up. At the far side of the room, sitting at their usual table, were the rest of the eventing gang – Alex and Cameron and Matt and Nicholas. The girls began to walk over to join them when Georgie heard her name being called.

“Georgie, we’re here!”

Georgie saw Isabel Weiss waving at her, beckoning her over. Isabel was sitting with Mitty and Reina.

“Come and sit with us,” Isabel called out to her cheerfully.

Georgie didn’t know what to do. Daisy, Alice and Emily had all stopped and were watching her.

“Georgie?” Alice said. “What’s going on?”

Georgie looked at the eager faces of the Dressage Set.

“Don’t be silly,” Alice muttered to Georgie. “You don’t have to sit with them! It doesn’t make any difference if you’re not in the eventing class any more. You can still sit with us.”

Georgie shook her head. “I really should go and say hi,” she said, gesturing towards the dressages. “I’ll catch up with you guys later back at the house, OK?”

Alice looked upset. “OK, whatever.”

The dressage girls moved over to make room for their newest member.

“Hi, Georgie!” Mitty grinned at her as she sat down. “Fun lesson today, huh?”

“Ummm, yeah,” Georgie said, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “All that stuff with the walking? Awesome.”

No one else at the table laughed and Georgie realised that Mitty was quite serious.

“It will take you a while to get used to dressage class,” Isabel said. “Bettina says this is because cross-country ruins your position.”

Mitty agreed. “It’s true. I was only in Tara’s class for one term and it’s played havoc with my hands!” She looked deeply upset.

“I don’t know… I think my hands are OK,” Georgie protested weakly.

Reina Romero pushed her dinner tray aside decisively and looked at Georgie. “We were thinking that we should all get together for a ride after school. Maybe tomorrow?”

“That sounds great,” Georgie said. “I took Belle out for a hack today – the bridle paths are a bit frozen over, but we had a good canter up the hill behind the school. Belle took these really big canter strides through the snow – it was brilliant. We could go for a ride up there?”

“No,” Reina was adamant. “I do not think so. Let us meet at the arena and we can do some schooling.”

“It’s not that cold outside,” Georgie insisted. “If you wear a puffer jacket and gloves it’s fine, honest.”

Reina remained stony-faced. “I only ride Alba Clemante in the arena.” Alba Clemante was Reina’s horse, a grey Andalusian that had been bred from extremely rare dressage bloodlines.

“Oh,” Georgie was taken aback. “Well, maybe when the snow has thawed a bit we could go for a ride up into the hills one weekend.”

“Georgie,” Isabel said, adopting a schoolteacher-ish tone, “we don’t really like to hack the horses out. They are dressage horses. Back in Germany, I only ever rode in the arena.”

“You never hack out?” Georgie was amazed. “You mean you just ride around in the dressage ring the whole time?”

Mitty shrugged. “It is too risky for injuries otherwise. Even with boots on, you might damage their legs. Besides, the horses need regular schooling.”

“Horses get bored in the arena,” Georgie countered. “They need a break from their work – just like we do.”

“Dressage horses need discipline,” Reina said flatly.

“And I need a fruit juice,” Georgie sighed, admitting defeat and getting up from the table. “Does anyone else want one?”

Georgie sat back down with her juice and zoned out the conversation around her. She stared over at the eventing table where it looked like Cameron had constructed a puissance course on his dinner plate, building a wall out of mashed potato and carrot sticks, which Alex was pretending to jump with a bread roll while Emily, Daisy and Alice cheered him on.

“Georgie?” Reina’s voice jolted her back to reality and she realised that the girls were standing up with their dinner trays, waiting for her so that they could leave. She stood and picked up her tray.

“So shall we meet at the arena for that ride tomorrow after school?” Isabel said.

“Umm,” Georgie hesitated, “I just remembered I have a thing… to do tomorrow after school. Maybe some other time?”

*

The teachers’ staff room was in the main building of the college, just above the Great Hall. It was the end of the day and the room was filled with the sound of cups and saucers jingling as teachers gathered for afternoon tea. Georgie stood anxiously in the doorway, peering in. Eventually her loitering caught the attention of the school bursar, Mrs Dubois, who put down her teacup and came over to see what she was up to.

Mrs Dubois was a Lexington native. She had a swept-back bouffant of blue-grey hair and wore a lilac suit with a matching frill-fronted blouse.

“Is there something I can help you with, Miss Parker?” she asked.

“I’m looking for Tara Kelly,” Georgie replied.

“She’s not here,” Mrs Dubois said. Then she saw the pained expression on Georgie’s face. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I want to talk to her about changing classes,” Georgie said.

Mrs Dubois frowned. “You’ve only just changed classes, Miss Parker.”

“I know,” Georgie said. “I want to change back. I want to be in the cross-country class again.”

Mrs Dubois’ brow furrowed deeper. “I doubt very much that Tara will change her mind, but you’ll find her down at the stables.”

Georgie knew that Mrs Dubois was right. There was no reason why Tara would take her back. But she couldn’t bear another day of walking around feeling like a loser in Bettina Schmidt’s dressage lessons. She had to try and get Tara to change her mind.

She found Tara in the tack room, fastidiously checking the girth straps and the stirrup leathers on the cross-country saddles.

“Unbelievable!” Tara said, holding up a pair of brown stirrup leathers that she had just taken off a flat-seat saddle on the rack in front of her. “Look at these! The stitching is frayed! It’s so dangerous. Imagine riding at top speed on the course and that last stitch suddenly gives way! Deadly!”

She put the leathers aside and turned her attention to her former pupil.

“How are you, Georgie? Did you have a good Christmas break in Little Brampton?”