Charlotte and the Starlet

by Dave Warner

  'Girls,' she commanded in an imperious voice, 'your rooms are listed on the board in the foyer. Place your bags in your rooms and return immediately to the stables to select your horses.'

  The girls moved off briskly. Those who had been here before knew that the right horse could make or break your chances of making the JOES elite squad.

  Caked in red dust, the battered old station wagon swung up through the high stone arch of Thornton Downs. Charlotte tried not to show that she was worried about arriving late. Her poor dad must be so tired. Thornton Downs was almost at the other end of the country to Snake Hills and he had driven all day yesterday. They had slept in the car before setting off again before dawn. Unfortunately, not long after starting this morning they had hit a steer. The impact had created a leak in the radiator and her dad had been forced to make running repairs. The only upside was that Charlotte got to chew a lot of gum so her dad could push it into the hole in the radiator to stop the leak. It worked but the car had kept overheating and they'd had to keep topping up the water, which also slowed them down.

  For the last hour or so of the drive Charlotte had been sitting with her mouth open. The land here was so different to Snake Hills. The fields were lush and as green as the tracksuits of Australian athletes. Thornton Downs itself left her speechless. Even her father let out a low whistle. Charlotte drank in the crisp white fences that surrounded the paddocks. Everything seemed neat. Everything seemed perfect. In the near distance, she could make out a circle of smooth dirt with hurdles and steeples around it. This was the real deal. Thick bush bordered the paddocks. A flock of exotic parrots shot across the sky, squawking loudly.

  She was so excited but also a little nervous. How could she ever belong in a place like this? That feeling deepened when the massive main building loomed into view.

  Three stories high, gabled and built of neat red brick criss-crossed by white piping, the building totally dominated the landscape. Compared to this, even Mr Thomas' house looked like a doll's house. Directly in front of the main building was a large parade area of unblemished clay. Wow. She just knew she was going to get lost here.

  There didn't seem to be anybody else about as her father pulled to a stop near the building. Charlotte had already said goodbye to Rusty the cattle dog, who sat in the back seat moaning as if he knew he wouldn't be seeing her for a while.

  'Explain we're late because we hit a steer.'

  Charlotte nodded and gave her dad a final hug.

  'I guess it's time,' he said simply.

  'I guess it is,' she said, and let go.

  'I'll ring you,' her father promised.

  'You better.'

  She managed a smile. She knew that she had to go that instant. If she stayed any longer she'd burst into tears. She quickly kissed her dad, hooked on her backpack and walked towards the big building. She counted to one hundred before she turned back to see the rusty old car covered in thick red earth just turning away and back onto the main road. This was it.

  She had almost reached the door when a voice boomed out.

  'Where do you think you're going?'

  It sounded like a man's voice. Charlotte looked around but could see nobody.

  'Up here.'

  A severe looking woman was hanging out the window.

  'Isn't this where you are supposed to come?'

  The woman frowned. 'It is if you're on time. But you're late.'

  'We hit a ...'

  But before Charlotte could explain the woman thrust a long arm out the window and pointed to some large sheds about half a kilometre away.

  'To the stables. Now. Get your horse. The other girls are already there.'

  Charlotte didn't dare argue. She dropped her backpack and ran as fast as she could.

  The stables were very large. Eight horse stalls down each side with two tack rooms, one in the middle of each side. There was also a small open office where Bevans and the vet had a desk to work from.

  The other girls had selected their horses and were already grooming them, oiling up their tack and gossiping. Lucinda Hayes-Warrington had long, lustrous black hair and had been riding since she was six. Emma Cross wore a blonde bob, which was also lustrous, and she'd won many pony club events. Rebecca Portofino had thick curls of red hair but otherwise her life was pretty much the same as the other two. Like them she lived in a house so big she could go days without bumping into her parents. And their beach house was even bigger. Not quite as big as Emma's father's beach house located in the next bay. That had been so big that locals had taken up a petition saying it blocked the sun on the beach. What with skin cancer and everything, Emma said they should have been grateful to have some shade.

  Emma was showing Rebecca and Lucinda a brand new mobile phone no bigger than a snack pack of sultanas. It was her going away present from her parents.

  Lucinda groaned. 'Honestly, a mobile phone. Haven't they any imagination?'

  Emma waved off her concern.

  'No, this is actually pretty cool. Rhinestone touchpad, waterproof of course, world-wide coverage, global positioning beacon, digital camera with, natch, storage for one hundred and ten snaps, seven-language diary, calorie counter and karaoke function. Plus...' She pointed to tiny microphone holes at one end. '... the eavesdropper. So sensitive you can hear conversations a kilometre away.'

  Rebecca said she had wanted that model but her father had said she would have to earn it. 'I said, no way am I doing the dishes.'

  Emma shook her head in sympathy.

  'Pathetic, isn't it? My dad tried that too, once. I said, "Daddy, you're not the only one trying to buy my affection. I can easily get that from my step-father."'

  Rebecca noticed a shabby looking girl enter and look around. Obviously the stablehand. As she passed, Rebecca spoke up.

  'Could you oil my gate, please? It's got this annoying creak.'

  The girl looked at her blankly.

  'Can't you do it?' she replied.

  The three friends swapped a look. Talk about attitude. Rebecca was not to be cowed.

  'That's what stablehands are for, isn't it?'

  The girl shrugged. 'I'm not a stablehand.' As her father had always taught her to do, Charlotte extended her hand. 'Charlie.'

  The three girls looked at her as if she was an alien life form. No-one made a move to take her hand and Charlotte pulled it back, feeling embarrassed.

  'Emma, Lucinda, Rebecca,' said the one with the blonde bob and the three of them turned back to their horses.

  Charlotte didn't know what to do next. She felt foolish standing there and had no choice but to push on. She walked to the end of the stable, looking for a free horse. There wasn't one. A man she took to be the stable foreman was placing tack on one of the hooks on the wall.

  'Excuse me, I don't seem to have a horse.'

  Bevans didn't even look at her.

  'Try the second-last box on the left.'

  Charlotte was sure she'd walked down there already but she went for another look, just in case. The stall door was closed. There was no horse standing above it. She was about to go back again when she thought she heard ... what was that? Snoring? She pushed open the gate gently and there lay a beautiful bay filly on her back, fast asleep.

  'Hello, beautiful. I'm your new best friend.'

  The noise woke Leila. She had feigned sleep while those annoying riding kids had come around looking for horses to torture and must have drifted off for real. Now some kid was pushing some geeky smile into her personal space.

  'We better give you a name. Let's see ...'

  Leila could almost hear the hard drive whirring in the girl's mind. Britney, she was going to pick Britney ... oh no, anything but Britney.

  The girl smiled down at her.

  'Cher. I'm going to call you Cher.'

  CHER!!! Leila almost choked.

  'My mum had all her CDs. She thought she was fabulous.'

  This rube obviously had never met Cher, thought Leila, who vividly recalled the stud
io confiscating Leila's trailer for Cher's second bedroom.

  'Okay, Cher, let's get acquainted.'

  Couldn't the kid just buzz off and leave Leila alone? Leila let one eye flip open, shuddered at the rat's nest hair that confronted her and closed it again. She'd go away. Now, where was that dream she'd been in? That's right, it was Oscar Night and she was partying with that cute, Irish ...

  EEEEEEEE!

  Leila was suddenly wide awake, covered in something cold and ... WET!!!

  Water.

  The last time she'd been hit with anything that cold was playing water bombs at Hilary's pad. Hilary, now there was a good little comrade to party with. Of course, the water that time had been chilled Perrier. But this wasn't Perrier, this was common garden variety H2O. Leila stood quickly and shook herself dry. And that's when she saw the rube smiling at her, holding an empty bucket.

  'Thought that might get you awake. I'm Charlie.'

  No, kid, thought Leila, you're dead meat.

  The girl started drying her off. Mmm, well, that was as it should be. She was rough, though, nothing like those Korean girls in the bathhouse near the studio. What did she think Leila was? Horsemeat?

  'You're a pretty girl, aren't you?'

  Duh. Course I'm pretty, you doofus.

  'A bit podgy, but we'll get that off you.'

  Podgy! From the look of her, this rube clearly didn't even know how to use a cleanser or a lip-liner. And here she was calling Leila podgy!

  'Tomorrow I'll take you for a canter and we'll see how you handle the jumps.'

  Leila smiled at the naivety. Charlie thought she was the boss? Well, let's see how she handled the old face-slap.

  Whack! The horse's tail swatted Charlotte hard in the face.

  Charlotte was stung. It was almost as if the horse had done it deliberately.

  'I hope that was an accident, Cher,' she joked.

  Whack, whack! This time, two swats.

  'Oh, it's like that, is it? Then let's see how you like the bridle.'

  If there was one thing Leila hated it was a bridle. But she didn't react. She let the kid get close. It was a ruse Leila had used effectively in Hoofbeat Hero when the bad guy was trying to escape from the police on her. You relax, get them confident, then just as they lean in and smile, like the rube was now, you suddenly butt them in the chest.

  Caught completely off guard, Charlotte was knocked backwards, her legs collecting something behind her. She tumbled over the stool and hit the ground but it wasn't as hard as it should have been. It was soft and squelchy and foul smelling. Yuck! She had landed slap in the middle of a pile of horse poo.

  She had just gotten to her feet when the horsy woman with the deep voice entered. She looked down her very long nose at Charlotte.

  'Finish up here, girls,' she announced. Dinner in forty-five minutes.'

  It took Charlotte a good five minutes to hose herself off. Then she had to find her room. In awe, Charlotte entered the large lobby. The floor, a dark red-black polished wood that smelled of wax, squeaked under her sneakers as she headed for the room allocations, which had been pinned on a notice-board at the foot of the most magnificent staircase Charlotte could have imagined. The other girls had vanished into the cavernous maw of the building by now, though she could hear the occasional door bang somewhere up above.

  Charlotte located her name. She'd been allocated the Princess Grace room with three other girls. Charlotte noted the floor plan: upstairs, down the corridor to the right, second room on the right. She hoped her room mates were friendly. Slowly she climbed the staircase, savouring every step. There were pictures all along the panelled walls. Many were of men in red coats with big moustaches, on sleek horses. Then pictures she recognised as being of the British royal family. She passed a couple of other girls running down corridors but they didn't acknowledge her. Eventually she arrived at the Princess Grace room and could hear lots of excited girly chatter coming from inside. She stepped in and her heart sank.

  Sitting at dressing tables crammed with beauty jars, hair straighteners, curling wands and hair dryers were the three girls she had encountered at the stables.

  Chapter 6

  Tommy Tempest walked to the trailer and knocked gingerly on the door. Inside he could hear Mr Gold sobbing. Sniffling, Mr Gold opened the door wearing his big quilted dressing gown and slippers embroidered with his initials, though tonight they were on the wrong feet. He hadn't shaved and his eyes were red.

  'Any news?' he asked hopefully.

  Tommy Tempest shook his head. 'Leila has vanished. The police say there's nothing more they can do.'

  This provoked a new bout of sobbing from Mr Gold.

  'This is costing me a fortune.'

  Tommy Tempest knew Mr Gold wouldn't want to hear the next bit but he had no choice.

  'We need to get another horse for the part. Leila could be in Timbuktu by now.'

  Leila looked over the barn. What a dump! She could be in Timbuktu for all she knew. No sign of a plasma, not even a cappuccino machine and, by the looks of it, she was expected to sleep on hay! She could hear those other chumps hoeing into their oats as if it was devil's food cake. Pathetic. At least there was no sign of that black stallion. What a bully! This crew of nags were still giving her the cold wither but big deal, like she cared? Anyway, Mr Gold and Tommy Tempest would be on the case, they'd track her down. Until then, Leila was going to sit on her backside and do a big fat nothing. These schmucks were all excited about jumping over a fence. What the heck was that going to get you but a broken fetlock? Jumping over a fence! What did they think she was?

  For an instant, the image of her mother gracefully dancing in a big ring and leaping fearlessly over high steeples came to her. Leila got a big lump in her throat. But only for a moment. Life had taught her to fight those emotions. She had cared for her father and he had died doing a stupid movie stunt, and she had cared for her mother and been left alone with nannies and television while her mother had gone off with a bunch of show ponies. She would not allow herself to be hurt again, uh, uh. She had hardened her heart like thick oats mixed with water and left in the sun. Her mother would be lying around in a spa in Palm Springs getting a pedicure, with a bunch of compliant pintos nodding away at her as she talked her head off about 'the tough old days at the dude ranch'. So it was tough – get over it, lady! No point living in the past.

  Leila lay down on her hay. Damn, it was itchy! She longed for her wonderful rubber mattress with the electronic back vibrator, for a well-made smoothie and, yes, she hated to admit it, but she longed for Feathers, that no-neck lump of sinew and fluff. She shut her eyes. Maybe when she opened them up it would be just like it was before – a big spacious trailer with Leila being treated the way a star ought to be ...

  Charlotte anxiously checked the clock on the wall of the Princess Grace room. In five minutes she was supposed to be dressed and at dinner and here she was still in her underwear waiting for the bathroom, clutching her towel and baby powder. Already dressed in a very simple but gorgeous frock, Rebecca was blow-drying her hair. She hadn't been too bad. Just ten minutes in the shower. Lucinda had taken even less time but was still applying make-up. Charlotte had never seen so many products. Mr Jedley, the chemist at Goondowi Downs, didn't have so much in his whole shop.

  The real problem was Emma.

  'My father is a barrister.' Lucinda added a touch more mascara. Lucinda had been talking about where they lived but Charlotte hadn't been paying attention. Some suburb in the city Charlotte had never heard of. 'I guess you know Emm's papa is John Cross, who owns all those TV stations?'

  Charlotte shook her head.

  'What does your father do, Charlotte?'

  'He's a stockman.'

  Lucinda brightened. 'Oh, Rebecca's mother and father are both brokers. Mervin-Lynch or something, isn't it?'

  Rebecca shrugged. She was having particular difficulty with her lip-liner.

  'No, no,' said Charlotte, understanding the mistake they
were making. 'He's a stockman. He rounds up cattle.' She could see the other girls trying to comprehend. 'On a cattle station.'

  There was a pause as the information wriggled into the narrow room that was Lucinda's brain and flicked a switch. 'Oh!'

  Rebecca swung to her, still confused. 'What?'

  'Like a cowboy,' translated Lucinda.

  Rebecca nodded slowly. 'Right.'

  'Does he own the station?' asked Lucinda.

  'No, Mr Thomas owns it.'

  Lucinda and Rebecca looked at each other for guidance. Rebecca smiled at Charlotte.

  'Doesn't matter, I suppose.'

  Charlotte hadn't ever thought there was anything the matter with that, but for some reason she felt obliged to add, 'He's the head stockman.'

  'Mmm,' the others hummed in unison.

  Once more Charlotte felt quite uncomfortable. These girls weren't easy to be friends with. She wanted to retreat. Fortunately that opportunity was provided when the bathroom door finally opened and a huge cloud of mist poured out. Emma emerged through it, wrapped in a towel.

  'Sorry, Charlotte, but if you don't wait a minimum of seventeen minutes between the conditioner and the course2 shampoo you just don't get the sheen.'

  Charlotte felt an urge to give Emma's head a course2 wash in the toilet bowl but she told herself it was important to make friends, so she simply smiled and slipped into the bathroom.

  As soon as she'd gone, Rebecca switched off the hair dryer and said she felt sorry for her. 'I mean, baby powder! I haven't seen that since ...' She thought a long moment, then brightened. 'Since I was a baby!'