The Prize

by Stacy Gregg

  “Of course I will.”

  Alice smiled gratefully. She took a deep breath and pulled herself together with a new resolve.

  After dinner that evening, while the rest of the girls walked back down the driveway to the boarding house, Alice and Georgie walked around the quad and up the stairs that led to the Blainford staffroom.

  It was late in the day and most of the teachers had gone home, but as luck would have it, Tara Kelly was still there, filling her bag with paperwork.

  “Girls!” Tara was surprised to see them. “Who are you looking for?”

  “Umm,” Alice felt her stomach twist in knots, “Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

  Tara shoved the last of the papers into her bag. “Well, come on then,” she said heading out into the hall. “I’m on my way to the stables to pick up something from the tack room, come with me and we can talk at the same time.”

  As they walked the paths that ran between the red brick buildings of the Academy to the stable blocks Alice filled Tara in on everything. She told her teacher about the rollkur, and about her growing doubts as she watched Allegra with the horses, and then the awful episode with Esprit and his trapped blue tongue.

  Tara listened in silence with a grave expression on her face.

  “And you say that the horse’s tongue turned blue?” she asked.

  “Totally,” Alice said. “Allegra didn’t care. She just stuffed it back into his mouth and kept riding.”

  Tara nodded. They had reached the stable block now, and at the tack room she stopped at the front door. “Right, girls, thank you for bringing this to my attention,” Tara said stiffly. “I… I… will give it consideration.”

  And with that, Tara walked into the tack room and shut the door behind her.

  Chapter Twelve

  There were the only two Badminton House girls present at Tara’s lesson on Monday morning. Daisy was away for the week so she could travel with Seb Upton-Baker to Kansas City for the inter-state polo tournament, and Emily was resting Barclay after the big black Thoroughbred had tracked up lame at last Friday’s jumping session.

  “Barclay’s still not sound,” Alice said as she tacked up Caspian. “Emily thought it might get better over the weekend, but it’s worse so the vet is coming today to look at him.”

  Georgie tightened Belle’s girth and led the mare out to join Alice who was already mounting up.

  “So are you going to Allegra’s this afternoon?” Georgie asked.

  Alice sighed. “I guess so. Tara didn’t say anything to me about not going.”

  Georgie frowned. “Maybe you could try to explain it to her again?”

  “And embarrass myself even more?” Alice groaned. “Tara’s probably thinking that I’m totally out of line as it is. I mean, who am I to criticise a world-class rider?”

  “You could try talking to Allegra again…” Georgie offered.

  Alice shook her head with a flat look in her eyes. “I’ve only got two weeks left on this apprenticeship and right now Allegra thinks I’m great. All I have to do is keep my head down, work hard and not get involved and I’ll get the mark I need to pass into next year’s eventing class. So that’s what I’m going to do.”

  The lesson that morning was one of the best that Georgie had ever had. Tara had set up a full jumping course and many of the fences were substantial – there was a spread that measured a metre forty high and wide. Each of the jumps was set up at a tricky angle or a complicated related distance from the last fence so that Georgie really needed to keep her wits about her as she rode.

  “Today,” Tara said, “I want to put the focus on to flying changes. You’re probably accustomed to changing legs so that your horse is on the right canter lead as you go over a fence, but today we’ll take it up to a new level.”

  Tara had constructed the course with a particularly tight turn after the third jump.

  “As you take the fence, you need to be thinking about the next jump,” Tara explained, “and because it’s set at a strange angle you must canter on one leg heading left, and then execute a flying change to turn right without missing a beat to take the jump.”

  Rather than doing the whole course, Tara drilled the girls through the two fences until they had mastered the change so when the time came to do the whole course the flying change seemed to come naturally to Georgie.

  “Keep working on this,” Tara advised. “Belle is a very capable mare. I don’t think we’ve seen the full extent of her talent yet.”

  Despite her underlying concern for Alice, the lesson had put Georgie in a good mood as she headed into the dining hall for breakfast. She’d grabbed a tray and joined the queue and had just ladled a big scoop of scrambled eggs on to her plate when she felt a sharp elbow thrust into her back.

  “Oww! Watch it!” Georgie spun around and found she was face-to-face with Kennedy Kirkwood.

  “I’m not the one that needs to watch it!” Kennedy said viciously. “I’d be watching my back permanently if I were you! And your front – boyfriend-stealer!”

  “Kennedy,” Georgie stammered, “I don’t know what he’s told you, but it was nothing, honestly.”

  “Nothing?” Kennedy scowled at her. “If it was nothing then why has he broken up with me?”

  “What?” Georgie blurted out. “Ohmygod, I’m so sorry!”

  Kennedy reached over the cafeteria counter and picked up the scrambled egg ladle and then, with a contemptuous flick of her wrist, spattered the front of Georgie’s uniform with scrambled goo.

  “You don’t know the meaning of sorry.” Kennedy stepped in front of Georgie and took a piece of toast and put it neatly on her tray as if nothing had happened. “But you will. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll wish you’d never come to Blainford.”

  After the dining-hall incident Kennedy failed to turn up for the afternoon apprenticeship at Dominic Blackwell’s yard. This came as a colossal relief to Georgie who had been imagining all the other things that Kennedy might be thinking of throwing at her.

  Tuesday came and when the pupils piled into Kenny’s minibus after lunch, once again Kennedy was not among them.

  “What’s going on?” Georgie said to Alice. “Where is she?”

  “I wouldn’t question it if I were you,” Alice told her. “Since Kennedy has declared war on you, I’d just be glad that you don’t have to spend the day with her.”

  Dominic Blackwell was already in the arena when Georgie arrived, riding one of his young horses. The bay horse was a spooky sort and kept baulking at the fills in the jumps, eyes white with terror as it leapt sideways. Georgie watched Dominic Blackwell as he calmly, but firmly, kept the horse on track and ignored its extravagant spooks. He rode it hard at the jumps until eventually the young horse was no longer fretting and was in a steady canter around the fences.

  That was the strange thing about Blackwell, Georgie thought. He understood his horses, but when it came to people, it was like his brain was disconnected. He simply didn’t know how to be nice – or didn’t care to be.

  Dominic dismounted and was leading the young bay horse when suddenly it leapt out of its skin and began to snort and piaffe on the spot with panicky excitement.

  The horse was being driven wild by the sound of a helicopter. Georgie could hear the unmistakeable thud of the aircraft’s rotors whirring as it grew nearer. She assumed the helicopter must belong to a neighbouring farm, and that it was heading across the Blackwell estate.

  But the noise of the rotors didn’t recede. The sound grew louder and louder and then, like something out of a James Bond movie, a shiny jet black helicopter suddenly appeared over the rooftop of Dominic Blackwell’s house.

  Hovering for a moment above the stable block, the helicopter seemed to pivot on its axis and then it lowered down out of the sky, right in the middle of Dominic Blackwell’s driveway – no more than twenty metres away from the arena.

  The young horse was no less disturbed by the sight of the mechanical beast. He wa
s still dancing and fretting uncontrollably, but that didn’t stop Dominic Blackwell from throwing the reins to Georgie.

  “Hang on to him for me,” Dominic said as casually as if he’d passed her his sweater not some berserk half-a-tonne of horse.

  The helicopter had landed now and the engine was switched off so that the rotor blades began to slow down. They still created a slight breeze though and the air messed up Dominic’s well-crafted sweep of hair as he bent low and ran forward to open the door of the helicopter and let the passengers out.

  The first person to emerge from the helicopter was a woman. She greeted Dominic Blackwell and then pointed back to the helicopter, sending him to help the second passenger.

  Staying bent over to avoid the rotor blades, the woman walked towards Georgie. She was wearing an expensive-looking black suit and high heels and her jet black hair was tied back in a high ponytail. Her features were undeniably beautiful, cold and haughty, and Georgie recognised her immediately. It was Kennedy’s stepmother, Patricia Kirkwood.

  Back when Georgie was dating James, Patricia Kirkwood made her position on their relationship quite clear.

  “There’s a certain calibre of girl that is suitable for a Kirkwood,” she had told Georgie back then. “I think James has forgotten that.”

  Now, once again, Patricia Kirkwood was here to make her message abundantly clear.

  “Hello Georgina,” Patricia looked Georgie up and down, and her nose wrinkled slightly as if there was an offensive smell in the air and she had just figured out where it was coming from. “I understand that you’ve been busy this term, keeping yourself occupied with other people’s boyfriends.”

  Stunned by her outspokenness, Georgie was left opening and shutting her mouth without any sound coming out. Patricia Kirkwood turned her back on her and smiled at Dominic Blackwell who was now heading over to join them, having helped Kennedy to duck her way under the rotors.

  “Dominic!” Patricia Kirkwood’s crystal voice cut through the dying whirr of the helicopter rotors. “How marvellous to see you!”

  “Lovely to see you too, Patricia. This is a surprise!”

  Patricia and Dominic gave each other air kisses while Georgie and Kennedy both stood and glared at each other.

  “I came here to see how my stepdaughter is doing,” Patricia Kirkwood said. “She’s a very talented rider, but then I’m sure you’re well aware of that.”

  “She takes after her mother,” Dominic Blackwell said, meaning to be complimentary. “I mean, her stepmother.”

  Patricia frowned at him. “Yes, well, thank you, Dominic.” She said briskly. “I’m so pleased that Kennedy has been under your wing this term. The poor darling has suffered some emotional turmoil at school lately. It’s been a terrible time for her, just awful. Girls can be so cruel when they are jealous and poor Kennedy is so blessed with looks and talent…” Patricia Kirkwood looked directly at Georgie as she said this.

  “Anyway…” Patricia Kirkwood said. “I’ll cut to the chase, Dominic. I know that Kennedy very much enjoyed being your head girl, and I would very much appreciate it if you would reappoint her to the role. It would certainly look good on her end-of-term report and I really cannot stress how much this favour would mean to me.”

  “Patricia, I…” Dominic Blackwell faltered, giving Patricia Kirkwood the chance to drive her point home.

  “As you know, Dominic, I am a vigorous sponsor of showjumping. I have been the main benefactor of Hans Schockelmann’s string of elite horses for many years now. I have kept my best horse, Tantalus, stabled with him.”

  Patricia took a deep breath. “However, it’s possible that I might be looking for a new rider to put on Tantalus and some of my other up-and-coming mounts.”

  Her meaning couldn’t have been clearer if she’d taken out a wallet and waved it under Dominic Blackwell’s nose.

  “I’m sure there’s been some misunderstanding, Patricia,” Dominic Blackwell was literally rubbing his hands together. He cast a glance at Kennedy who was still standing there looking sullen. “Kennedy is my head girl, and I can assure you that her end of term assessment will be glowing.”

  “Excellent,” Patricia Kirkwood looked at her watch. “I can’t stay long, but I’d love a tour of your facilities before I go – that is, if you have the time to show me around?”

  “Of course,” Dominic Blackwell ran a hand through his luxuriant mane. “Please come this way.”

  He turned back to Georgie. “Untack the horse and get my next mount ready. You can warm him up for me in the arena.”

  “I’ll do that, Dominic,” Kennedy offered. “Georgie can go back to mucking out the boxes.”

  Dominic Blackwell would have preferred to have Georgie warming up his horse for him. But what choice did he have?

  “Georgie,” he said, “Kennedy is in charge. You’re to do whatever she tells you. ”

  Georgie’s worst nightmare had become reality.

  “You are back on dung duty, Parker,” Kennedy said, snatching the reins off her. “I warned you, didn’t I? Never mess with a Kirkwood!”

  Ever since she’d been working for Allegra Hickman, Alice had been in love with Damsel. Of all the horses on the yard, the brown mare was by far her favourite. The mare was an Oldenburg, with the same strong physique, a neck with an impressive topline, and a compact frame with powerful haunches that Caspian possessed. Her paces were so floaty, when she was in motion it appeared to Alice as if Damsel barely touched the ground.

  Damsel was only a medium-grade dressage mount and had yet to master the more advanced manoeuvres like passage or pirouettes, but the mare was coming along brilliantly and could do a very nice half-pass and lovely shoulder-ins.

  Alice was thrilled when she saw on the blackboard in the stables that she was down to ride Damsel in her lesson with Allegra that afternoon.

  “I think this mare is ready for some real work, don’t you?” Allegra said as she strode into the arena. In her hands she had a piece of string with a series of knots in it, and she came over to Damsel, talking softly to the mare as she attached one end underneath her belly to the centre of her girth.

  “OK, Alice,” Allegra said. “Ask Damsel to bend and flex at the poll and drop her head.”

  Alice did as her trainer asked. She flexed the mare by putting her legs on and putting pressure on the reins until Damsel dropped her head in submission.

  “A little more please, make her take her head down further,” Allegra said clinically.

  Alice tightened her grip until her knuckles were white and asked the mare to lower her head further still. Now Damsel’s head was bent right over so that her forehead seemed to almost face the ground below her and her nose was tucked into her chest.

  “More!” Allegra said.

  Alice looked at her instructor, horrified. “I can’t get her any lower than this,” she said weakly.

  “You can,” Allegra corrected her. “You just need to shorten your reins and take a firmer grip. Now do it!”

  “I don’t think she’s comfortable,” Alice said. She could hear Damsel’s tail swishing, and she could feel the mare resisting her hard, brutal hands against the reins.

  “Shorten the reins,” Allegra commanded, “Pull her head down. More.”

  Alice pulled Damsel’s head until the mare’s chin was virtually wedged into her chest.

  “Hold her there,” Allegra said. She reached down to the piece of knotted string, and taking the free end she attached this to Damsel’s bit. Even if Alice released her hands Damsel’s head would remain tucked to her chest.

  “OK,” Allegra said. “Now take her out on to the outside track of the school and start working her in that frame at a trot, please.”

  Alice was so shocked it felt like she was moving in a dream. She did as Allegra told her to. She took the mare out to the edge of the arena and asked her to trot. As soon as they began to move forward into a faster pace, Alice could feel the difference in the mare. She was stiff and her hindquar
ters seemed to move robotically as if the pressure on her head was causing so much pain that the mare couldn’t swing through her back. Her tail kept swishing constantly and her ears were flattened. Alice felt a lump rise in her throat as she heard the mare grinding her teeth against the bit. With each stride she grunted and snorted, unable to breathe through her restricted airways.

  None of this seemed to bother Allegra Hickman. “Press her on into a trot!” Allegra commanded. “And now the other rein! Half-pass! And shoulder-in!”

  Alice felt a surge of relief when Allegra finally called her back to the centre of the arena.

  “I think that’s enough of that,” Allegra said as she undid the knot on the string. Then she added, “Now, let’s get serious.”

  With a sick punch to her stomach, Alice realised what was happening. Allegra Hickman was not removing the string on Damsel’s bit. She was preparing to tighten it.

  “Pull her head down again for me,” Allegra ordered.

  When Alice looked back years later, she would always say that this was the moment that defined her as a professional rider. It is the hardest thing in the world to stand up to an adult when you are young. It is even harder still to tell someone who supposedly knows more than you that they are wrong. But Alice knew she had no choice. She felt Damsel’s pain so keenly it was as if her own neck were being twisted to the point of torment. She couldn’t be a part of this any longer.

  “I’m not doing it,” she told Allegra. “It’s cruel and I don’t see how you can’t understand that.”

  She released the reins, but the string held Damsel’s head and kept it bent. “I won’t ride her like this. Undo the string now and I’ll take her back to the stable.”

  Allegra Hickman looked at the young girl sat there defiantly in front of her. “Are you kidding me?”

  She gave a mocking laugh, as if this was nothing more than a joke to her. But Alice could see that the confrontation had her more shaken than she would admit. Allegra’s hands were trembling.