The Auditions

by Stacy Gregg

  Without hesitation, Georgie and Olivia kicked on and the black pony and the palomino arced up together and cleared the massive brick wall with ease. They landed neatly on the other side and the crowd went crazy!

  “Super stuff!” Mike Partridge raved. “Lovely riding by Georgie and Olivia!”

  In the arena, the ground crew were hard at work, slotting a new line of bricks into the top of the jump to make the wall higher for the second round.

  “If you thought it was big before, take a look now,” Mike Partridge said gaily. “One metre fifty-five. I can tell you it takes a brave rider to tackle a fence that size!”

  As Georgie and Olivia rode back into the arena the crowd clapped and cheered louder than before. The girls set off once more at a canter, popping the ponies inperfect time together over the upright and the oxer and then turning once more to face the wall.

  As they approached this time, Georgie felt the knot of nerves in her stomach tighten. Although she had jumped this high in their practice sessions, here in the main arena under the lights it somehow seemed monstrous. She cast a quick sideways glance at Olivia, who was pushing Molly on, trying to keep pace with Tyro and prepare herself for the jump that lay ahead.

  Two strides out from the fence Georgie stopped worrying about timing and became totally focused on just one thing–getting over the wall. She put her legs on firmly to let Tyro know she meant business and the black gelding responded brilliantly. He leapt and Georgie felt that incredible surge of energy as they rose into the air. It was the most amazing feeling in the world, almost as if they were flying.

  Her perfect moment was shattered by gasps of horror from the crowd and a piercing shriek beside her. Molly and Olivia had completely misjudged the fence and instead of going up alongside Tyro, the palomino had barrelled straight into the wall, striking the jumpwith spectacular force. Molly lurched forward, legs scrambling, and Olivia was thrown from the saddle. Georgie, meanwhile, was in mid-air trying to jump over the now-collapsing tumble of giant wooden blocks falling apart right beneath her horse’s belly. There was no way she could stop what was happening. The wall was crashing down, taking Georgie and Tyro with it.

  Chapter Six

  Reacting on pure adrenalin, Georgie pulled hard on Tyro’s right rein so that the gelding changed course and landed further to the right, managing to skirt the fallen bricks and land on the sand surface of the arena. Unbalanced by this sudden twist in mid-air, Tyro hit the ground hard and stumbled forward. Georgie was unseated and found herself in front of the saddle with her arms wrapped around the pony’s neck.

  Most other riders would have simply fallen off, but Georgie had the nimble athleticism of a cat. She managed somehow to hoist herself back off Tyro’s neck and into the saddle, pulling on the reins to get the pony’s head up. Then she regained her stirrups and hauled Tyro roughly to a halt at the end of the arena.

  Despite his awful stumble, Tyro seemed unharmed. Olivia and Molly, however, were not so lucky. The paramedics were in the arena with Olivia. She had fallen hard and been winded as she struck the ground, but incredibly she had avoided being trampled. When Georgie saw the medics helping her friend stand up she knew Olivia would be OK. It was Molly who had come off the worst. The mare had come down right on top of the fallen bricks. She had injured one of her forelegs quite badly and was clearly lame.

  Mrs Prescott and Lucinda raced forward to meet Olivia as she came backstage. “I’m fine,” Olivia insisted, shaking her head in disgust at her performance. “I’m just so furious with myself. It was my fault. We were coming towards the wall and I should have pushed Molly on harder but I lost my nerve and hesitated, then she got her striding wrong and crashed right into it!”

  “It was just bad luck,” Georgie tried to tell Olivia.

  “No,” Olivia disagreed. “It was bad riding. It’s my fault we’ve failed our audition.”

  The wall and the other jumps had already beendeconstructed and ferried away and the next rider was entering the ring to begin their round.

  While Lucinda led the horses away to their stalls, Mrs Prescott took the girls over to the café near the warm-up arena. She sat them down at one of the plastic tables and bought them both a piece of cake and a cup of tea. “You’re in shock, you need some sugar,” Mrs Prescott said.

  Olivia still looked deathly pale. And she was obviously racked with guilt about ruining their chances. “I’m so sorry,” Olivia groaned, “I can’t believe I messed it up for you.”

  “It’s OK,” Georgie insisted. “Honestly, it’s no big deal. Even if I had got in, I probably wasn’t going to be able to go to Blainford anyway.”

  Olivia looked shocked. “Why not?”

  Georgie was about to explain when she realised there was a woman standing over their table. She looked very official and was holding a clipboard.

  “Excuse me!” the woman said. “Is one of you Georgina Parker?”

  Georgie looked up. “I am.”

  “The selectors asked me to come and find you. They’d like you to come to the judges’ table, please.”

  Georgie looked at Olivia who gave her a shrug.

  “Now, please!” the woman said, setting a brisk pace for Georgie to follow as she wound her way from the café through the backstage corridors that led to the other end of the stadium where the selectors were sitting.

  When they got there, Georgie had to wait in the wings for a moment while one of the other finalists finished their performance. Then, after the crowd finished clapping and the selectors delivered their verdict and scores, the woman hustled her forward to stand in front of Tara Kelly.

  “Georgie Parker.” Tara looked her up and down. “There always seems to be some drama to sort out whenever you’re around.”

  Georgie was about to say that really, while this was true, it was hardly her fault. But Tara continued. “The judges have discussed your situation, and we feel that even though you entered as a partnership with Olivia Prescott, it is only fair, since you cleared the wall in thelast round, to let you continue the puissance on your own.”

  Georgie couldn’t believe it. “I’m still in?”

  “You are most definitely still in, Miss Parker,” Dr McGee spoke up. “You cleared the wall and should be allowed to continue. We’ve put you at the end of the running order to give you time to prepare yourself again.”

  Georgie didn’t know what to say. “Thank you.” she began. Then the lights came on in the arena and the next rider was being announced, and the woman with the clipboard was escorting Georgie away backstage.

  Georgie walked to the horse lorry in stunned disbelief. She found Olivia, Lucinda and Mrs Prescott standing by Molly’s stall. The vet had just been and diagnosed the condition of Molly’s injured leg.

  “The good news is it’s not broken,” Olivia said looking relieved. “The vet thinks the tendon on the cannon bone may have ripped. He’s going to give Molly a proper examination when we get her home but he says that she’ll need to be spelled for the rest of the season to recover.

  “Anyway,” Olivia added, “what did the selectors want? Why did they call you over?”

  “They’ve given us a second chance,” Georgie told her.

  Olivia was stunned. “You mean we can ride again?”

  Georgie shook her head. “No. Not you and me. I meant me and Tyro. They’re going to let us continue the puissance on our own.”

  Olivia’s face dropped. “Oh, I see.”

  Georgie felt so stupid! “You know what?” she said to Olivia. “I’m going to go back and tell them I don’t want to do it. We’re a team. We either do this together or not at all.”

  But Olivia shook her head. “Don’t be silly,” she said, taking a deep breath. “This is the best news, Georgie!” she insisted. “I couldn’t ride again even if I wanted to–Molly is lame. And you deserve to have another chance. I’ve been feeling dreadful knowing that I’m responsible for ruining your opportunity to get in to Blainford. It’s brilliant that you’re still in wi
th a shot.” She gave Georgie a big hug. “Good luck,” she said sincerely. “I’ll be back here, cheering you on.”

  Lucinda was thrilled that Georgie was being allowed a second go. “Are you sure you’re OK about jumping the wall again?” she asked. “It got quite hairy in there when Olivia crashed. You don’t have to do this.”

  “I know,” Georgie nodded. “It’s all right. Tyro had cleared the wall before it began to fall. He only got a little bit spooked when the bricks collapsed. He’ll be fine.”

  “What about you?” Lucinda said.

  Georgie had been more shaken by her almost-accident in the arena than she wanted to admit. But the best way to get over it was to put it out of her mind and continue with the competition. She wished she could go back into the arena straight away. Tyro was ready to jump, his blood was up. Instead, she would have to wait in the collecting ring and somehow remain calm until all the other competitors had their turn.

  She could see Daisy King warming up on her big grey Irish Hunter, Village Voice. The two girls had ridden against each other for years on the eventing circuit and often it would be a battle between them for first place. You would have thought they would befriends, but in fact they seldom spoke. Georgie had tried to be friendly but Daisy was very competitive and didn’t allow herself any distractions, so Georgie was surprised when Daisy popped her horse over the practice jump and then cantered towards her.

  “Bad luck in the arena,” Daisy said unconvincingly. “I saw you talking to the judges afterwards. What did they want?”

  “They told me that I could have another go,” Georgie told her. “Since I’d actually gone clear over the wall, technically I’m still in.”

  “Really?” Daisy said, arching one eyebrow. “You know, I didn’t even expect to see you here at all after that crash at Great Brampton. You’ve got more lives than a cat, Georgie.”

  “Yeah, I’m thinking of getting myself a collar with a little bell,” Georgie said.

  Daisy didn’t smile. “Well anyway, good luck,” she said. “Break a leg.”

  Georgie couldn’t help feeling that Daisy meant it literally. “You too,” she replied coolly.

  Daisy did an expert show hunter round for thejudges that finished with a display over a full wire fence. Backstage, Georgie watched and waited for the judges’ verdict. David McGee and Helen Nicholson both gave her a nine, and then it was Tara’s turn.

  “I get the impression that these jumps are way below your abilities,” Tara said. “I don’t think we’ve witnessed the full extent of your talents here today.” The crowd began to boo but Tara raised a hand to silence them, “.however, I’m impressed by the absolutely perfect position you maintained the entire time. I can see that this Irish Hunter is a challenging mount, but you make him look easy. You ride him beautifully and so.” Tara reached for her score card. “I’m giving you an eight.”

  The highest score that Tara had given anyone up until that point was a six. An eight was pure gold. Daisy King and Village Voice had the top marks of the day and she was the one to beat.

  “I cannot believe they gave her nines!” Georgie heard a snooty girl on a glossy bay complaining as she sat in the wings. It was Felicity Whitfield, renowned for her bad attitude on the show circuit. She had alreadyhad her turn in the arena and achieved miserable scores from all the judges. Instead of keeping quiet about it, she had been complaining vigorously about the standards of the judging ever since.

  “Have you noticed how Tara is totally into grey horses?” she griped to the girl beside her. “She always favours the greys. She never gives high marks for bays. That’s why she only gave me a four!”

  The other girl agreed. “We might as well pack up and go home!”

  They didn’t leave though. Instead, they stayed on the sidelines, whining bitterly and sniping as the other riders took their turns. When the last rider, a boy called Cameron Fraser, entered the ring on a big, coloured cob the girls wasted no time ripping him to pieces.

  “Look at the hideous Roman nose on that horse!” Felicity grimaced. “How can he ride a horse with an ugly face like that?”

  “I wouldn’t be caught dead on it–it looks like a cow!” the other girl opined. “Mind you, he rides as if it’s a cow too! Look at his crest release over the jumps!”

  “Cameron Fraser is from Coldstream in the Scottish Border Country,” Mike Partridge was telling the crowd. “His coloured cob goes by the show name Sir Galahad, but I understand this horse’s nickname is Paddy.”

  Cameron was dressed in an emerald green hunting jacket that was clearly a hand-me-down. The velvet was faded and the jacket was at least two sizes too big. He was a tall boy for thirteen with pale skin and a thick mop of curly brown hair that poked out from beneath his hard hat. His riding style couldn’t have been more different to Daisy King’s. He lacked her finesse, but he had raw courage and took the jumps at top speed. He was broadly grinning as he took the last fence. Cameron gave the crowd a cheerful wave before pushing his magnificent black and white horse into a thundering gallop down the long side of the arena. When he finally pulled up to halt in front of the three selectors, Tara Kelly was the first judge to speak. “You’re a rough diamond, Cameron,” Tara told the boy. “You do everything wrong, but somehow you make it look right. Natural balance and ability in spades…. so I’m giving you an eight.”

  The look on Felicity’s face when she heard this wasso funny that Georgie couldn’t resist. As she rode past she shouted out to the two girls, “It looks like the judges fancy cows as well as greys!”

  With the best scores by far, Daisy and Cameron topped the competition at the end of the day.

  “Well, not quite the end,” Mike Partridge told the crowd. “Our selectors have asked one of the finalists to perform once more.”

  In the arena, as he spoke, the crew were busy erecting the puissance jumps.

  “Remember our daredevil dual jumpers?” Mike Partridge asked. “Well, we’ve got one of them back again–Georgie Parker riding Tyro. This time she’s jumping alone.” Mike Partridge paused for effect, “and this time the wall is being raised. She’s going to try and clear the bricks at a massive one metre sixty-five!”

  As the stewards moved the last rows of bricks into place and measured the wall one last time, Georgie stood at the entrance with Lucinda. She took a deep breath and wiped a sweaty palm on her jods. “I’m so nervous!” she told Lucinda. “Have you got any last minute words of advice?”

  Lucinda looked at the enormous wall standing in the middle of the arena. “Just three,” she said. “Get. Over. It!”

  In the ring, Georgie tipped her hat to the selectors and set off on a warm-up lap at a brisk canter. Just like last time, the first jump was the upright rail. Tyro popped over it neatly and then flew the oxer with ease. Now, Georgie turned him to face the wall once more. There was a brief moment when Olivia’s gruesome fall flashed through her mind but then Georgie focused on the task at hand. Tyro came in at the jump in a round, collected canter. A couple of metres out from the wall, Georgie felt her stomach clench. What if the black pony failed to lift his feet? What if they struck the wall and crashed? But then Tyro was taking off and they were going up, up and over. She heard his hind legs nudge a brick, but not enough to bring it down and they landed on the other side with the wall still intact. They had done it! They were clear!

  “Georgie Parker, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer’s voice was turning squeaky with excitement. “How about that–clearing the wall at one metre sixty-five! Well done, Georgie!”

  The spotlights were turned on the three judges, ready for their comments. The selectors seemed impressed and were shuffling their score cards. Helen Nicholson was just about to speak when Mike Partridge interrupted.

  “I’m sorry, selectors, but it seems the young lady isn’t finished,” he boomed. “Georgie Parker has asked the jump stewards to raise the wall to the next level, she’s attempting another round. The height this time? One metre eighty!”

&
nbsp; Georgie rode back into the ring and the crowd was silent. Instead of cantering the pony around to warm up, she took him right up to the jump and let him stand in front of it, just a few metres out from the fence. One metre eighty was a huge height for a pony to jump–and when Tyro stood in front of the wall everyone could see that the jump was taller than he was! How could the gelding conquer this brick barricade when he couldn’t even see over it?

  “Come on everyone!” Mike Partridge called to the crowd. “They’ll never get over it if you don’t give them a cheer!”

  The crowd burst into applause and shouts of encouragement. It was just the spur that Georgie needed. Suddenly her nerves melted away.

  “We’re going over it, Tyro,” she told her pony. “You and me. We’re going over that wall.”

  As they came around to take the first of the warm-up jumps, Tyro gave a huge buck as if he was too excited about what lay ahead to keep his feet on the ground. Georgie had to check him hard to balance him before the jump, but he cleared the upright easily and cantered on to the oxer. He cleared this too, and gave a buck after the jump. And then another buck!

  The bucking didn’t faze Georgie. It was Tyro’s way of letting her know he was keen and ready to go. As she turned him to face the wall, she could feel her heart thumping in her chest. Then a strange calm came over her and the world seemed to move in slow motion as she urged the pony on and approached the wall.

  This was the biggest fence she had ever faced. She couldn’t see over to the other side and yet she had faith in her horse. Closer to the jump they came in one stride, two strides and then HUP! Georgie felt Tyro lift off intothe air. He was flying now, his feet tucked up at the front, clearing the wall. Could his back legs make it over as well? Tyro flicked up his hind fetlocks like a superstar and the bricks beneath him didn’t move. He was over! And the crowd were on their feet cheering. The look on the selectors’ faces said it all–a row of beaming smiles. But it was the number on Tara Kelly’s card that mattered the most.