by Stacy Gregg
“There’s just one thing,” the secretary had said and winced. “I hope this won’t put you off, but the opening we’ve got is up against one of the most seasoned professionals in the competition. Dominic Blackwell’s got three horses entered, so he dominates the line-up as you can imagine. Let me see… ah, yes. We’ve put you down to ride against him on his first horse of the day – Revel’s Maximillion.”
Georgie felt the knot of nerves in her stomach grow tighter. This was exactly what she’d been hoping for. “Not a problem,” she said. “What time do I ride?”
For the rest of the day Georgie had managed to stay well clear of her former boss. Her focus had been on walking the course no less than three times so that she knew the jumps inside out and back to front. Meanwhile, Alice and Riley had prepared Belle, acting as her grooms and giving Georgie space to think about the task.
Now, in the arena at last, she was ready to go head-to-head with her rival.
As the two riders began to circle their horses around their matching arenas, Dominic Blackwell was openly glaring at Georgie. She could feel his stare burning through the back of her riding helmet as she cantered around to settle Belle into her stride. When they lined their horses up on identical start lines facing the grandstand Blackwell accosted her. “What the blazes are you doing here?” he growled.
“Gee, Dominic,” Georgie gathered up her reins and held Belle at their line. “First you tell me off for leaving – and now you don’t seem happy that I’ve come back!”
Dominic didn’t get a chance to respond. The buzzer was counting down: five-four-three-two-one-go!
Georgie immediately pushed Belle forward into a canter, putting into play everything she had been taught by Tara from the outset.
Rule number one: hit a rhythm. Just like at school, Georgie was counting the strides out loud as she settled the mare in to take the first fence, a simple red and white upright.
This was no training session, though, and Belle knew it. The thousands of spectators in the grandstands had given the mare a shot of adrenalin and Georgie found it hard to hold her steady. They reached the first jump in a rush and Georgie got left behind when the mare took off too soon. They cleared the jump but the landing was rough and it took Georgie a stride or two to pull herself together. Casting a quick glance across at her opponent she could see that Blackwell was edging ever so slightly ahead. Maxmillion had big strides, which meant that on the straight lines and open stretches of cantering between the fences he was bound to beat them. To match the big grey, Belle and Georgie would have to ride smarter and tighter, taking advantage of the turns and cutting corners to get ahead.
On the second fence, however, Georgie had already lost two strides to recover her position and by the time she looked to the next jump it was too late to go in tight and she had to settle for a wider angle. She was annoyed, but it was better to clear the second jump than to take a crazy risk and drop a rail.
Put it behind you and look to the next fence, she told herself.
Blackwell, meanwhile, had taken full advantage of her sloppy start and was cantering on boldly between the fences. By the time they reached jump number three he was clearly in the lead and as Georgie took off he was already landing on Maximillion and was away to jump number four.
In the grandstands the crowd were cheering wildly. Blackwell was putting in a star turn to impress the crowds. Maxi, who always jumped well in front of an audience, was clearing the fences with air to spare and snorting like a steam train after each effort, his huge bounding strides making the horse look twice the size that he actually was.
Belle wasn’t anywhere near as big-striding as the mighty grey. But what she lacked in dramatics she made up for in speed and grace. Belle’s distinct advantage over Blackwell’s stallion was her intensive morning schooling over tight fences. At fence five the crowd gasped as she jumped and then took only one stride before turning like a cutting horse and taking a hard left to put in two very nippy strides for fence six. The manoeuvre was a vital one – it destroyed Maxi’s lead and suddenly Georgie was right back on Dominic’s tail again. There was a long canter in to fence number eight and Maximillion ate the ground up with his strides to gain more of a lead again. By the time they were over fence nine the stallion had a whole length on Belle. Both horses were still clear!
Jilly Jones was beside herself with excitement. “There hasn’t been more than a horse length between these two riders all this time and as they come into fence number ten watch the way Georgie Parker cuts in tight on that corner and takes the jump at a very sharp angle! She has regained crucial seconds and now she is neck-and-neck with Dominic Blackwell!”
Georgie’s heart was racing as she powered down stride by stride through the treble. Clear and over. And then three more strides, over, and three more and they were done. But so was Dominic and he was in the lead! Georgie could feel her chances slipping away.
Coming in to the second to last fence, Georgie took a deep breath. The fence was a plain green upright. Every other rider so far today had taken it straight, but Georgie was looking for the advantage, doing what Tara had taught her to do. And right now, against the big-striding Maximillion her best chance was to make a move that no one could possibly anticipate.
“It’s the penultimate fence,” Jilly Jones told the crowd, “and Georgie Parker seems to have misjudged her angle into this green upright rather badly I’m afraid. She is almost side-on to the fence and coming in fast!”
But Jilly Jones was wrong. Georgie had taken exactly the line she was planning to take into the upright. The angle was tight, but not impossible. Not for Belle. The mare came in and hesitated for brief moment, but Georgie put her legs on. “Go!” she told the mare. “Get over it!”
Belle gave a grunt and launched herself at the green upright. She arced up and over, but as soon as she landed on the other side she was on a collision course with a large potted conifer standing at the side of one of the jumps. As the crowd held their breath, Georgie turned hard, avoiding the crash. Then, in the very next stride, she put her left leg up to the girth and her right leg back as she cornered hard once more, asking the mare for a flying change. Belle swapped legs like a pro. They were at the final fence now, and because of the crazy stunt they had just pulled they were coming in at a totally different angle than anyone had ridden before.
“Georgie Parker has completely changed the game!” Jilly Jones was hysterical on the Tannoy. “She has taken a wild angle on that green upright and cut inside to make her approach to the final jump – remarkable riding! She’s regained her ground. Ladies and gentlemen, we are in for a photo finish!”
Georgie was in mid-air over the last fence when she finally allowed herself a sideway glance at Dominic Blackwell. He was jumping too!
From the moment Belle landed, Georgie was kicking on. Beneath her she felt the mare respond instantly, flattening out to a gallop, her strides stretching out for the finish line. Georgie no longer worried about style or technique – she was riding like a race jockey the way Riley had taught her – high in her stirrups, arms pushing Belle on as she rode the mare in desperation to cross the line.
Through the finish flags they swept, the roar of the crowd in their ears. But who were they cheering for? Who had it been at the final wire?
Chapter Seventeen
“A head by a nose from the mighty Maximillion!” Jilly Jones was jubilant. “Georgie Parker takes it!”
Disbelief was written all over Dominic Blackwell’s face as he left the arena. Beaten by his own ex-groom! For a man who lived for the roar of the crowds to taste humiliating defeat in public like this was like sipping poison. He was beyond bitter – he was livid!
“Dominic!”
Georgie was riding towards him, but Blackwell turned his back on her and carried on. How dare she approach him now, after what she had just done?
“Dominic, wait!” Georgie was insistent. Blackwell halted Maximillion, holding the grey stallion back from Georgie’s mare. They
were alone together, just the two of them in the wings of the stadium, and Georgie suddenly felt very small beside this man on the enormous grey Holsteiner.
“Well?” Dominic stared at her imperiously. “What do you want?”
“It’s about my apprenticeship,” Georgie said.
“Oh,” Blackwell said. “If you want to discuss your mark, then you’ve got perfect timing. As it happens I have just revised your score. It’s no longer an ‘F’… it is a ‘double F minus’!”
Georgie had known he wouldn’t take losing well, but even she was surprised by the vitriol.
Blackwell glared at her. “You ran out on me, Georgie. Abandoned your post! Well, this is your punishment.”
Georgie seemed remarkably unmoved by Blackwell’s melodramatic posturing.
“Here’s the thing, Dominic,” she said. “If you want revenge then you can fail me. But if you do that then everyone will assume that you did it out of spite because I beat you today. Word will get out that you’re holding grudges against fourteen-year-old girls – not exactly the look that you want for your sponsors and adoring fans.”
Dominic Blackwell realised that the girl had a point.
“So what do you want?” Blackwell said. “A ‘C’? A ‘B minus’? You can’t possibly expect me to give you an ‘A’?”
“I want to propose something that will make us both happy,” Georgie said. “I want you to hire me back again. I want to be your apprentice.”
Dominic Blackwell rode two more rounds in the Mirror Jumping that day on Cardinal and Polaris. Recovering from his earlier defeat, he won both with clear rounds and sparkling times on the clock. In the end, Polaris had the best time of the day. Second place went to Georgie on Belle with Dominic Blackwell taking third on Maximillion and a fourth on Cardinal.
The trophies and ribbons were handed out by the head of the Grand Prix USA organisation while Jilly Jones continued her commentary over the Tannoy.
“A remarkable story has unfolded here at the Kentucky Horse Park. The winning riders that you see here in the arena today are master and apprentice! Young Georgie Parker just informed me that she is the protégée of Dominic Blackwell. She has been under his supervision at his stables and now we can see how his greatness has rubbed off on her! A memorable win for Team Blackwell – with all four places in the Mirror Jumping being awarded to members of their stables!”
In the arena, Georgie smiled at Dominic, who forced a smile in return, and then, in a gesture of crowd-pleasing solidarity, the two of them linked hands and raised their arms together in the air.
“You see?” Georgie muttered to Dominic under her breath. “I told you that I could make you look good if you played it my way.”
“You’re only my apprentice until the end of today,” Blackwell muttered back. “Then I never want to see you again.”
Georgie looked at him. “And what about my mark?”
Blackwell sighed. “You’ll get your A,” he said, struggling to maintain his fake mask of happiness, acutely aware that the crowds were looking at them. “I could hardly give less to my own apprentice, could I?”
Georgie smiled. “Thank you, Dominic. It’s been a pleasure working with you.”
“You blackmailed your way into an A!” Cameron Fraser just about fell off his seat in the Blainford dining room. It was Monday lunchtime before Tara’s final class of the term. Georgie had just told the group about her Mirror Jumping showdown with her boss and the glowing report that he had given her.
Alex Chang looked at Georgie in stunned admiration. “You are unbelievable!” he said. “Beating Blackwell and getting an A for the privilege? That’s gotta feel good!”
“I hate to be the one who points this out,” Emily said, “but won’t Kennedy tell on you?”
“I doubt it,” Georgie said. “She got an A too because of Patricia. Plus, I let her grab the glory of being head girl for the term which will go on her school record. I think even Kennedy knows when to leave well enough alone.”
“It’s hardly fair though, is it?” Alex frowned. “I mean, we slogged our hearts out to get our marks!”
“Hey!” Georgie was genuinely hurt. “I earned that A in all kinds of hideous ways.”
Georgie knew what Alex was driving at. These marks would inform Tara’s end-of-term elimination.
“Actually,” Cameron said. “I don’t think any of you need to worry about elimination.”
The others looked at him. Alice’s face dropped. “Oh no, Cam! I thought everything was going really well with you and Frank Carsey?”
“It was – I mean, it is,” Cameron said. “I’ve had the best time of my life in the past few weeks,” he paused, “…and it’s made me realise something. I’ve always loved cross-country, but I can’t stand dressage. And to be a good eventing rider you have to be good at all phases these days. Besides, even on the cross-country course it was never the jumping for me – it was always just the speed, you know? Galloping as fast as you could go until the wind pins your horse’s ears back and you’re flying. And that’s what it feels like when you’re out there on the track.”
He looked at his friends. “Frank says I’ve got what it takes – as long as I don’t grow too much in the next three years, he’s got a job for me when I leave Blainford.”
“So you’re dropping out of eventing class?” Alice frowned.
“Uh-huh,” Cam nodded. “I’ve already told Tara. I’m swapping my major next year to racing.”
“Me too,” Daisy said. The others all turned to look at her.
“Well, not racing,” Daisy clarified. “I’m swapping to polo. I told Tara last night.”
“I didn’t realise you were serious about polo,” Emily said. “I mean, we all played last term and it’s not like you were gagging to get back together for a game or anything.”
“I’m not that into the low-goal stuff,” Daisy shrugged. “But when I got to see the high-goal players, the way they play is totally different. It’s amazing. When Seb rides, it’s like the most exciting sport I’ve ever witnessed.”
“So this is all about Seb!” Alice said. “I knew it!”
Daisy gave her a dark look. “Look, Alice, I don’t want to date Seb – I want to be Seb. I want to be a proper player like him – at least three goals. I want to play for one of the big teams in Argentina and then maybe come home to England and set up my own team.”
“Girls can’t play at that high-goal level,” Nicholas Laurent chipped in. Suddenly an entire table of girls were glaring at him.
“Nina Clarkin is a four-goal player,” Daisy pointed out.
“Watch what you say, Laurent,” Alice warned him, “unless you want the other leg broken.”
Nicholas, who had only just had his cast taken off the week before, shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“So is that it?” Alice looked around the table. “Anyone else leaving the ranks?”
Emily raised a hand. Everyone stared at her wide-eyed.
“Oh no!” Emily said hastily, “I didn’t mean that I’m leaving. I just wanted to say that I heard Arden is. At least that’s what Mindy Kershaw in Adelaide House told me. She said that Arden was signing up for Mrs Winton’s class next year. She’s going to major in grooming!”
And so, the final lesson of the term with Tara Kelly was not the brutal elimination the riders had been expecting. In the end, everyone had passed their apprenticeships – in one way or another. But the class of ten had still dwindled regardless. Only seven of them would continue through to the second year when the school returned in the late summer.
That last day in class Belle was a dream ride, balanced perfectly between her rider’s hand and leg. Georgie thought back to the first term here at Blainford when the mare had been almost out of control when they attacked their fences. Now, they rode the course as a living breathing partnership.
“You and Belle looked very nice out there today,” Tara told her as they were walking back to the stables. And then she added, “Almost a
s nice as you looked in the ring at the Kentucky Horse Park when you thrashed the pants off Dominic Blackwell.”
“You were there?” Georgie was stunned.
“I saw you beat him,” Tara said. “Even if Blackwell hadn’t given you an A for your apprenticeship I would have given you a pass mark based on that last jump. That turn with the flying change was nothing short of spectacular!”
By the end of the week exam marks had been handed out, final assessments had been made, exercise books and saddles had been packed away and the school was preparing for the summer holidays. To Georgie’s relief, Kennedy had already left for her holiday in the Bahamas and Conrad was nowhere to be seen. On Friday morning Georgie went down to the stables with Emily and they watched as the farrier took the shoes off Barclay and Belle. Their horses would go barefoot in their fields for the next six weeks, turned out for a well-earned break until the new school year began.
For Georgie, who would spend the next six weeks at home in Gloucestershire, and Emily who was making the long journey home to New Zealand for the holidays, this summer holiday held a hidden sorrow. Belle and Barclay were both school horses – and there were no guarantees that students would get the same horses at Blainford for a second year.
Alice, who had already put Caspian on the horse truck ready to take him home to Maryland, accompanied Georgie as she led Belle down to her paddock for the last time.
Alice opened the gate and Georgie led Belle into the field. She stood there with her horse, reluctant to loosen the halter and let her go, fighting back the tears.
“It’s a stupid, stupid rule,” Georgie said bitterly as she stroked Belle’s muzzle. “You come all the way across the world, they get you to bond with a horse, and then once you completely and utterly love it to bits they tell you next year you’ll be with a new one!”
“Totally,” Alice said comfortingly, “It’s a dumb Blainford rule.”