Riding Star

“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?”

Georgie nodded. “It snowed a lot, but I managed to get some riding in with Lucinda.”

“I hope you gave her my regards,” Tara said.

Tara Kelly and Lucinda Milwood had been at school together at Blainford, along with Georgie’s mother, Ginny. Maybe it was because of her nostalgia for her own school days that Tara seemed to take a special interest in Georgie. It was Tara who had made sure that Georgie was assigned Belle, and she had worked hard to help Georgie to master the difficult but talented bay mare. Not that Tara played favourites – she made that clear when she eliminated Georgie last term.

“Lucinda was a bit shocked when I told her that I was dropped from class,” Georgie said.

Tara looked serious. “I know that was hard for you, Georgie. I know how much cross-country meant to you…”

“How much it means to me,” Georgie corrected her. She was surprised at her own boldness, but there was no going back now. “Tara, I would accept it if I deserved to be kicked out, but really it wasn’t my fault when Belle refused on the course.” Georgie bit her lip, her voice trembling. “So I was hoping you might reconsider your decision and let me back into the eventing class.”

Tara fell silent for a moment, stunned by the request.

“Georgie,” she said at last, “perhaps you were unfairly dealt with in that final assessment last term. But you had been failing in my class for some time before that.”

“I know Belle and I had problems,” Georgie said, “but we sorted them out. She’s going brilliantly now. If you just let us back in you’ll see.”

“I can’t make exceptions for you, Georgie,” said Tara, shaking her head. “How would that look to the other riders?”

“Like you cared,” Georgie said. She knew she was overstepping the mark, and she expected Tara to lose her temper, but her former instructor looked sympathetic.

“I do care, Georgie. But I can’t let you back into the class just like that.”

Georgie nodded mutely, her heart broken. She turned and was about to leave when Tara spoke again.

“Come back and talk to me about it at the end of term, Georgie. I may have a couple of spaces opening up in the class by then. If you’re excelling in your subjects maybe then we can talk to the headmistress about your possible reinstatement.”

“So you’d take me back next term?”

“You’d need to convince Mrs Dickins-Thomson. I’m not making any promises,” Tara said. “Do your best for the rest of the term and then… we’ll see.”

*

It was cold outside as she left the stables and Georgie was glad that she’d worn her new coat. The classic army-green Barbour her dad had given her as a Christmas gift was her prized possession.

She couldn’t believe her father would know enough to buy her the jacket. Her dad had a very bad track record at choosing her presents so it must have been Lucinda’s choice. Either way, Georgie didn’t care – she’d loved the look on her dad’s face when she had said with absolute honesty, “Thank you, Dad – it’s exactly what I wanted!”

As she headed along the driveway back to Badminton House, Georgie shoved her hands deep in the tartan-lined pockets of the Barbour. Her conversation with Tara had given her the smallest scrap of hope, but in a way that only made it worse. She would spend the whole term struggling with a new class – and for what? Tara might never take her back. What if the headmistress, Mrs Dickins-Thomson, vetoed her request? Maybe Lily was right. Why was she torturing herself like this? Tara had made it clear that she wasn’t promising anything – even at the end of term. And what was she going to do in the meantime? Dressage class was a joke and—

“Parker!”

Georgie groaned. She turned round to confront the two people she had been trying to avoid ever since she arrived back at Blainford: Conrad Miller and Kennedy Kirkwood.

If Georgie had thought that the concept of Conrad and Kennedy as boyfriend and girlfriend was creepy, the actual sight of them holding hands on the driveway was even more disturbing.

Both of them were wearing standard uniform navy wool blazers and scarves. Conrad, being a senior, wore long black boots. He also wore spurs, which denoted his status as a prefect.

“Hey, Parker!” Conrad called again. “Nice jacket.”

Georgie didn’t respond. Conrad hadn’t called out to her to give her a compliment. There was something else coming and she knew it.

“But it’s not regulation school uniform,” Conrad added. “Take it off now.”

The look of smugness on Kennedy’s face as her boyfriend gave the order was unbearable. Georgie scowled back at them.

“Don’t be a numnah, Conrad. I’ve had a tough day, I’m freezing cold and I’m going back to my dorm, OK? Just leave me alone.”

“I’m serious, Parker,” Conrad said, clearly loving the thrill that his prefect powers were giving him. “That jacket isn’t regulation. Take it off right now.”

Bristling with anger, Georgie did as he said, pulling the coat off.

“All right. Satisfied?” She was about to turn round and leave when Conrad spoke again.