by Dave Warner
'Don't know why you wanted to ride the horse in.'
'I wanted to give Leila a treat.'
'Charlie, the way you treat that horse, anyone would think she was human.'
Charlotte grinned. Leila was close to human as you can get with four legs.
It didn't matter that Charlotte had seen the film twice before, she loved it. Even when big bugs attracted by the projector light blocked almost the whole screen with their silhouette, her enjoyment did not ebb. The audience laughed or made jokes or honked car horns. Her dad got sentimental. He had only been about Charlotte's age when Grease had first come out. But her mother and he had seen it years later at the open air picture theatre in Goondowi Downs.
'Don't take too long getting back,' he called out as he peeled away after the movie had finished. 'Big day tomorrow.'
Charlotte and Leila took their time on the ride home. The three-quarter moon offered ample light for them to pick their way through the scrub. Charlotte couldn't help babbling enthusiastically abut all the parts of the movie she had liked.
'And "Summer Nights", I think that's my favourite song.'
Leila snorted. 'You just say that because you imagine it's you and Todd getting all dreamy-eyed and smoochy.'
Charlotte was indignant.
'Todd's not my boyfriend. He's just a friend.'
'He's just a friend,' mimicked Leila.
'But he is.'
'She protests too much,' quipped Leila.
'What do you mean by that?'
'Means where there's smoke there's fire. Hey, I don't blame you. Todd is rich, good looking and a nice kid. And he must like you or he wouldn't have flown all the way up here in his private plane to go riding with you for a day.'
While Charlotte hoped what Leila said was true, she wasn't owning up to any feelings other than friendship.
'That's his business. He's still just a friend.' She changed the subject. 'Did you like the film?'
'Could have done with some horses.'
Charlotte tried to get Leila talking more but she only answered in monosyllables. 'You okay, Leila?'
'I'm tired. Like your dad said, big day.'
The real reason Leila was quiet was because the movie made her remember all the things about her old life that she'd loved. There was nothing like being on set – loads of make-up people fussing over you, squirting you down if you got too hot, rugging you up with a nice heat pack if you displayed the barest sniffle. Sure you had to put up with the likes of that freckle-faced moron Sarah-Jane, Leila's co-star, but all in all it was fun. You were a princess and all the crew were your doting slaves. The trouble was, it wasn't real. It was make-believe. And the friends you thought you had were make-believe. Leila had learned that the hard way when she'd wound up in Australia. Apart from her talking parrot mate, Feathers, Joel Gold and her director, Tommy Tempest, she had been quickly forgotten. Charlotte was different. Charlotte was a true friend. She didn't think about what Leila could do for her but what she could do for Leila.
If they could all see me now, Leila thought later that evening, as she stood in her yard listening to clicking crickets. Leila, the spoiled Hollywood brat, not lazing about in her massive Winnebago but here in the open, at the far end of the earth. She looked up at those stars. They were pretty. What's more, they were real. Sure, she missed her old life, the parties, the awards nights, the hoof-controlled air-conditioning, but she'd never been fitter, tougher or more horse than she was now. Warrior, that stuck-up stallion Todd Greycroft rode, was going to get the shock of his life when they began competing in the JOES. Actually, it was pretty scary. Lots of top show-horses were going to be at the academy and while Leila might be a movie star, when it came to equestrian stuff, she was a novice. She comforted herself with the knowledge that she and Charlotte were a team. But she knew that only time would tell if, by giving up movies, she had made the biggest mistake of her life.
Chapter 2
Thirteen hours after they had left Snake Hills in her father's battered station wagon, towing the old horse float, Charlotte stood in the driveway of Thornton Downs and hugged him tight.
'I'll miss you, Dad.'
'I'll miss you too. Promise you'll study hard.'
Unlike the previous time she'd been at Thornton Downs, this was not vacation time. Charlotte was going to have to attend school classes as well as all her equestrian lessons.
'Of course.'
Charlotte didn't mind schoolwork. She just didn't like it anywhere near as much as riding a horse. In the lee of a mountain range and a thousand kilometres to the south, Thornton Downs was much cooler and greener than Snake Hills. Dusk was trying its best to settle but the bright headlights of the convoy of expensive European sedans arriving to deposit the other JOES wouldn't let it. Charlotte gave her dad one final squeeze.
'Keep writing to me.'
Being a stockman who spent weeks at a time droving cattle in the outback, her dad found the world of the internet and email totally foreign. He preferred pen and paper.
'Course I will.'
One final wave and he was gone. Charlotte stared after him, sadness welling. Leila's muzzle pushed into her cheek.
'At least you've got me.'
Charlotte reached up and stroked her.
'That's true.'
'So let's get a move on or you'll miss dinner and I'll be stuck with nothing but that horrible chaff.'
Charlotte smiled and shook her head. Leila was incorrigible. She'd already made Charlotte promise to sneak out to the stables with a helping of the JOES dinner.
'Better get you to the stables.'
They had barely gone twenty metres when they saw The Evil Three heading their way. Emma, Lucinda and Rebecca had done their utmost to make Charlotte's first stay at Thornton Downs miserable. She noticed they all had new hairstyles. And new designer clothes to go with them. Emma's face broke into a bright and entirely fake smile.
'Hi, Charlie. Hope you brought that gorgeous dress of yours again. Our nightmares haven't been the same without it.'
Charlotte wasn't fazed.
'If you're running short on nightmares you could just imagine life on a desert island with only Rebecca and Lucinda for company.'
Charlotte strode off, leaving the three with their mouths agape.
Impressed, Leila whispered, 'Nice one, Charlotte. You're learning fast.'
They entered the stables to find other girls settling in their horses. Bevans, the stable foreman, a laconic character in his fifties with bushy eyebrows, a weathered face and a beak of a nose, was busy fixing new hooks for the girls to hang their tack on.
'How are you, Miss Charlotte?'
'Bit tired, Bevans, but otherwise okay. Did you enjoy the break?'
'No break for me. There's a lot to get ready for you girls.'
A man's voice cut in hard.
'Bevans, we don't pay you to gasbag. The sprinklers in C paddock need rotating.'
The man who spoke was new to Thornton Downs. He would have been quite tall standing straight but with stooped, thin shoulders he was only slightly taller than Bevans. He wore a dark blue blazer with a striped tie and regular shoes, not boots like Bevans.
'Which one is C paddock again, Mr Chadwick?'
'The one after B paddock, of course.'
When he spoke, Chadwick's prominent Adam's apple bobbed and his black horn-rimmed spectacles did calisthenics.
'Yes, but I'm not sure which one B paddock is either.'
Chadwick made a sound through his button nose that showed he was annoyed. 'B paddock is the one with the big gum tree in the middle.'
'Ah, that would be One Tree.'
'And C paddock is the one to the west of it.'
Charlotte couldn't help herself.
'You mean Cowhide Corner?'
Chadwick turned and glared at her. Through his spectacles his eyes seemed enormous. They swivelled and rolled. His voice went up a few tones.
'I mean C paddock!'
'But why not call it C
owhide Corner?' asked Charlotte innocently.
Chadwick almost shouted.
'Because that is not systematic! This place needs a system and by hook or by crook I'm going to make sure it gets one.'
With that he stormed outside.
'Who is he?' asked Charlotte. Leila was thinking the same thing.
Bevans sighed the sigh of a man who had been putting up with the trial that was Chadwick for the last month.
'That is Mr Chadwick, Miss Strudworth's nephew.'
'Is he working here?'
Bevans' eyes twinkled.
'That might depend on your definition of work. He certainly spends a lot of time organising others. Excuse me, Charlotte, I'd best head off to C paddock.' He winked and left.
'Odds on Chadwick's an accountant,' whispered Leila. 'I remember when the accountants took over the film studios back in Hollywood. Worst thing that ever happened. The Winnebagos got smaller, the onset hours longer. Even the ice-cream sundaes were suddenly low-fat.'
'How did you get rid of them?'
Leila shrugged, 'Eventually they screw up. You just have to wait till they fail miserably and then they promote themselves off to some other job.'
Charlie settled Leila into her stall. Leila made her attach a mirror to the wall.
'Nothing worse than chatting up some hot stallion then finding you've got hay stuck between your teeth.'
'You want me to brush you down?'
'Na. You better get going to the buffet or all the best food will be gone.'
'Okay. I'll see you later.'
'Four sausages. And ice-cream,' Leila called out after her. Leila sashayed cockily and addressed, in horse, the grey mare who occupied the stall beside her. 'Saw your pal Warrior during vacation.'
The grey mare cocked an eyebrow. 'And?'
They had begun as sworn enemies, the grey mare not approving of Leila's human traits, but eventually the ice had thawed a little. While not exactly friends yet, they didn't hate one another.
'And nothing. Just wanted to warn you he seemed pretty taken with me.'
The grey mare snorted.
'Warrior and I are just friends. He's broken the hearts of too many fillies and mares for me to even consider him. Good luck.'
'Hey, I'm not the least bit interested in that big black show-off.'
'Sure you're not, Leila.'
Leila was miffed. She was a movie star. Okay, an exmovie star. Warrior might think he was something special but that cut no mustard with her. She had her friend Charlotte and that was the only friend she needed.
Charlotte noted she had been assigned the Trigger room on the second floor of the main building. She carted her pack up the wide, polished staircase and along dark, wood-panelled corridors until she found the two-bed room at the back of the building. Its small window had a view out over the paddocks to the woods beyond. There was no sign of another occupant and Charlotte wondered if she would have the room to herself. That would be fine by her. Last term she had spent most of her time in the windowless boiler-room in the basement, which had been far more preferable to sharing with The Evil Three with whom she had originally been assigned.
Charlotte unpacked and hung her few clothes, taking time to admire the new dress she had brought with her. A pretty blue with a black trimmed neck, Leila had helped her design it. Charlotte had Mrs Devine sew it up in return for cleaning up her yard. It was the most beautiful bit of clothing Charlotte had ever owned. There was just enough time to shower and change into her dress and make it down to the dining room for dinner.
For Caroline Strudworth, this evening should have been a happy one. There was little that gave her more pleasure than an intake of young equestriennes, girls who would be groomed for international competition, with a view to one day representing their country in the Olympics. Strudworth had been eagerly anticipating her squad going up against those of her old riding 'enemies' like Christiane Von List, who headed the German equivalent of the JOES, or Tammy-Lee Teetlebaum the Third, who quartered herself in leafy New England and looked after young American competitors. Being spinsters like her, the old battles they once waged personally on the arena were now continued by proxy through their young charges. It should have been enough to get Strudworth doing somersaults but, regrettably, there was something of a sheet-anchor to her high spirits at the moment. Something called Chadwick.
It had been observed by many that Caroline Strudworth had assumed the characteristics of the beloved quadrupeds that had dominated her life. She was tall, her face long, her mouth wide, her teeth the dimensions of tiles on a bathroom wall. And when she laughed, it was with a distinct whinny. Alas, there was no laughing tonight.
Strudworth's older sister, Laura, had long ago married Mitchell, who had the personality of a teapot and the brains of an iguana and had successfully passed both traits on to his son, Chadwick. As a four-year-old, Chadwick had thought it fun to yank the tail of poor Zucchini, Strudworth's fabulous jumper, who now spent his days stuffed, inside a glass case in her office. As a six-year-old, Chadwick whined for 'treats', refusing to ride because horses were smelly. She had not seen Chadwick for many years, something for which she had been extremely grateful. Chadwick was an accountant who had worked himself to a position in a company where he fired people from their jobs but, in an ironic twist, had been forced to fire himself after a bout of company cost-cutting. Laura had prevailed on her sister to find him work at Thornton Downs. Under normal circumstances Strudworth might have declined, but Laura had not been well of late and Strudworth felt obliged.
Chadwick had bowled in a month ago full of ideas to make Thornton Downs 'efficient'. He'd already got some of the staff offside by increasing their hours. Day one and his new, low-cost menu of baked beans and mince on toast had proved an unmitigated disaster, causing grumbling in the dining room for the early arrivers. The last thing Strudworth needed was a complaint from her charges to the JOES administrators about the standard at Thornton Downs. There were any number of other academies desirous of her status as official JOES residence.
The sight of Charlotte Richards heading down the stairs brightened her a little. Charlotte had not had the easiest time at Thornton Downs in the qualifying trials, and Strudworth had come to understand she hadn't helped the poor, motherless girl adjust from life in the outback.
'Evening, Richards. Enjoy your break?'
'Thank you, Miss, I did but it's nice to be back too.'
Pity they didn't all think like that. Strudworth checked her watch: seven p.m. Time to give her little pep-talk.
'You should eat, Richards. Buffet will be closing presently.'
Charlotte didn't need any encouragement. With a stomach demanding immediate action, she hastened to the buffet. She was surprised to discover baked beans and toast were the night's only offering. She didn't mind though. She and her dad regularly had baked beans for dinner. However, a lot of the other girls were busily complaining. Especially The Evil Three. She eavesdropped as she passed their table.
Rebecca was in full voice.
'With what our parents are paying it's an absolute insult.'
Lucinda's brow furrowed.
'I didn't think our parents were paying anything. Isn't the government paying for us?'
Emma moved to Rebecca's defence.
'Yes, but that proves Rebecca's point even more. Our parents are paying nothing and even then this is an insult. Baked beans is what they dish up to volunteer firefighters and emergency workers, people who have to eat what's put in front of them.'
Lucinda nodded.
'I see what you mean. We're elite athletes, we deserve better.'
Rebecca chimed in.
'At least they could call them by their French name to make them seem less poxy.'
All concurred, though none of them knew the French for baked beans.
The sound of Strudworth slapping her riding crop on her leather boot hushed the room. Charlotte slid to the nearest table. She didn't know any of the other girls at it. No
ne had been at the previous camp with her.
'Welcome to the JOES,' began Strudworth. 'Most of you have met me during your trials. For those who haven't, may I extend a cordial welcome.'
Rebecca was puzzled.
'I hate cordial.'
Charlotte shook her head in disbelief. Rebecca's brain was as empty as a car park two hours after the game. Surely she knew that cordial meant friendly and warm?
Strudworth continued.
'Our term here is ten weeks. Let me be very clear. You will be expected to attend all your academic classes as well as the equestrian requirements of the JOES. That means up at five a.m. grooming, arena practice six a.m. till 7.45 a.m., breakfast and classes from nine a.m. until three p.m. Four to six p.m. – additional practice with your mounts –'
The big dining room doors swung open. Strudworth halted mid-sentence. A pretty blonde girl who wore her hair in plaits shuffled into the vast dark oak dining room looking terrified.
Oh, oh, thought Charlotte, remembering herself in exactly this situation last time.
The room hushed, all eyes turned upon the girl.
'Nice of you to make the time to join us.' Strudworth tapped her toe irritably.
'That's okay. Is dinner still on? I'm starv–'
'Dinner? DINNER?' Strudworth's voice rose to a crescendo. 'You are? May I ask?'
'Hannah Weston,' answered the girl in a voice now suddenly frail.
'You may well be Hannah Weston ...'
Charlotte knew what was coming next.
'but you are also LATE.'
The girl tried to explain, 'The train was –'
'Weston, you have had at least six weeks to organise your arrival. You should be intelligent enough to know that in this country, trains never, ever, EVER, run on time. That, I can assure you, is not a malaise that affects Thornton Downs. Sit.'
Hannah Weston scurried to the nearest space, which was beside Charlotte.