Riding Star (10 page)

“Parker,” Heath Brompton took her polo mallet from her, “I think you'd better take your mare back to the stables.”

“But, sir,” Georgie protested, “it wasn't—”

“Parker!” The polo master was adamant. “Go now – and while you're there, hog her stupid mane like I told you to do last week!”

*

By the time Georgie had reached the stables she was in tears. The shock of the fall had made her start to weep, but it was the unfairness of it all that kept her crying. She hated the way Conrad had the trust of the teachers just because he was a senior. He was always going to get away with it. And now, once again Heath Brompton thought of her as a liability. The look on his face made it clear that he wished she didn't exist.

Georgie had undone Belle's tack and sponged the mare down. She was just sorting out her feed when the girls arrived for practice.

“What happened to you?” Alice asked when she saw the grass stains on Georgie's jodhpurs.

“Conrad Miller,” Georgie said. “He pulled me off my horse.”

“You're kidding!” Emily was horrified.

“Do I look like I'm in the mood for jokes?” Georgie asked as she marched back across the corridor with Belle's feed.

“Are you OK?” Daisy asked. “I mean, can you still ride? Do you want to have stick-and-ball with us, because it's OK if you don't.”

“Oh, I'm riding!” Georgie said through gritted teeth. “We need to get those mares trained up if we're taking on Conrad in the Round Robin.”

She turned to Alice. “Could you do me a favour and saddle Marco up for me? There's something I need to do before we ride.”

While the others went to get the horses ready Georgie went to the tack shed and hunted around in the recesses beneath the grooming kits. When she found what she was looking for she returned to Belle's stall. She plugged the clippers into the power socket in the wall and stood there mesmerised by the whirring vibrations. Then she walked over to Belle and grasped a thick hank of the mare's lustrous jet-black mane and began to shave.

Chunks of mane fell to the floor as she ran the clippers up the mare's neck. Georgie looked at the beautiful black mane lying on the floor, but felt no remorse. All she felt right now was a grim determination to see this through to the end. If Conrad thought he could terrorise her and push her around then he was wrong. She would meet him on the polo field and next time she would play it her way. Next time she would win.

B
elle's mane was gone and all that was left was a hedgehog stump of black hair that ran along the crest of the mare's neck.

She looks like a different horse
, Georgie thought. She didn't even look like a mare any more, the girlish prettiness had somehow vanished and all that remained was the bare, brutal anatomy of her neck, the hard outline of her shoulders and withers.

“Wow!” Alice leaned over the door of the loose box. “You actually did it.”

Georgie was still staring at her, shocked by the transformation. “She looks naked.”

“She looks like a warrior,” Alice said. She smiled at Georgie. “Come on, while you've got the clippers out – let's do them all.”

Hogging off Belle's mane had been hard for Georgie, but there was a sense of excitement in the task as they worked their way through all the horses together.

Daisy and Emily got another set of clippers out of the tack room and they worked in two teams. By the end of the hogging session there was a huge pile of black and chestnut hair on the floor.

“If we glued it all together we could make a miniature pony,” Emily suggested. Her sense of humour failed though when the time came to cut into Barclay's mane.

“Are you sure you're OK?” Daisy said when she saw the look on Emily's face.

“I'm fine,” Emily insisted. “Just get it over with!” She had held the big black horse steady as Daisy ran the clippers up the crest, but when Daisy had almost reached Barclay's ears Emily suddenly yelled, “Wait!”

She reached out and took hold of the last hank of mane up by his bridlepath.

“OK, cut now.”

As Daisy sheared through the mane, Emily kept the hank of hair tight in her fist and then put it in her pocket.

Not all horses are willing to stand still for the clippers and predictably the worst was Marco. After nearly being stomped on and kicked by him several times, Georgie groaned, “I give up!”

“But he's half-hogged!” Alice said.

“Put a twitch on him,” Emily suggested.

The twitch looked a bit like a torture device, but it was actually a very useful piece of kit. It was a wooden baton with a rope loop attached to the end of it. Within moments of the twitch being applied to his top lip, it was as if Marco had been sedated. He stood utterly relaxed as Alice took the clippers and finished the job.

“Good boy!” Georgie released the twitch and Marco gave his head a brisk shake, as if he was waking up from a hypnotist's trance.

The girls lined the sixteen horses up and admired their efforts.

“They look like a proper string now,” Georgie said.

Alice looked at the drifts of horse mane piled ankle-deep on the floor. “Let's clean up,” she said. “It's too late to train today, but tomorrow, after school, we play.”

*

Over the next week the Badminton House team really began to take shape. The girls met every day after school for stick-and-ball out on the playing field, working to Alice's roster, each riding four horses in a session.

After the first training session with Jet, Georgie had spent some extra time with the mare, at first just standing alongside her and holding the mallet, and then, once the mare seemed OK with that, taking its handle and stroking her all over with it to let her know that the mallet wasn't going to hurt her.

The first time she carried a mallet on Jet the mare was tense and jogged about anxiously, side-stepping every time Georgie tried to take a shot. By the second session on the polo field, Georgie was swinging the stick back and forth and Jet was cantering along without a care.

The Dupree ponies were far superior to the new Thoroughbreds. The best of them all was undoubtedly Desiray. The little dun mare was a true polo pony, gutsy and tough.

According to Alice, if Desiray could talk she would have told you how thrilled she was to be making a comeback from her untimely retirement. When Alice tacked her up, Desiray would tremble with anticipation and by the time she reached the field she would be in a lather of white sweat from excitement before she even began to play. On the pony lines during her warm-up Desiray was prone to bouts of high-spirited bucking, but once she was on the field she was as focused and ruthless as her rider. She loved nothing better than to run another mare off the ball and would come shoulder-to-shoulder with her rival and then perform a neat shoulder charge to take possession without any cue whatsoever from her rider.

“She plays way better than I do,” Alice said proudly.

Of the Dupree ponies, Daisy's favourite was Jada, a stocky and serious mare. But Daisy's absolute favourite turned out to be the little fifteen-hand bay, Francine, who she'd bought off the track at Keeneland.

Francine and Daisy both shared a love of speed and a killer instinct for driving straight into the pack and swiping at anything that moved until they got to the ball.

When the pack were chasing the ball Emily often held back, but she was quickly developing into a smart tactical player with a very good arm for making long shots up the field. Her favourite mare was Vita, the pretty brown mare with the socks and white star, who was fit and sound and good at covering the ground quickly.

Despite having favourites, the girls tried to roster the ponies around so that everyone got a turn trying out each horse.

There was one pony on the roster however that no one was pleased to be given. Marco was a nightmare.

“Why have I been lumbered with Spinner again?” Daisy groaned on Friday when she saw that she had been rostered on to the chestnut gelding.

“His name is Marco,” Georgie said.

“He will always be Spinner to me!” Daisy shot back. “And I'm not getting on him. Not after yesterday.”

Yesterday's training had ended in total carnage after Marco had done one of his famous 180-degree turns in mid-gallop with Daisy on his back. The turn had been so sudden and forceful that Daisy hadn't stood a chance of staying onboard. She had been violently catapulted out of the saddle. Which wasn't so bad, she told the others afterwards. It was the fact that Marco had then gone after her once she was on the ground.

Georgie wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't seen it herself. The horse had attacked Daisy, hooves flying as he tried to land a strike on her. It was only the swift intervention of the other girls driving him off that had stopped Marco from causing serious harm.

“I'm not getting on him.” Daisy put her foot down. “I'm not a coward, but I'm not an idiot either – that horse is crazy.”

“All right,” Georgie had given in. “You take Jet for the last chukka. I'll ride Marco.”

As they tacked up the ponies for the final chukka, Georgie kept an eye on Marco's legs and head. The gelding had been known to try and bite and kick simultaneously while he was being tacked up. Today, he made a desultory attempt to sink his teeth into Georgie's arm as she tightened the girth, but she was able to brush him aside easily with a quick tap on the muzzle.

“Don't be naughty.”

Marco seemed to take the telling-off to heart and stood still for the rest of the tacking up. But he clearly had revenge on his mind. It was two minutes into the chukka and Georgie had just won the ball off Alice and was racing for the goal when Marco did his legendary spinning trick. This time, he did the 180-degree turn, but when Georgie by some miracle managed to stay onboard, he didn't stop there.

She had been flung forward out of the saddle by the sudden stop-and-turn and, as she tried to get her stirrups back, she suddenly felt the horse give way underneath her. Marco's knees appeared to be collapsing!

“Georgie!” She heard Alice yelling at her. “Jump!” Without thinking, Georgie obeyed on instinct. She threw herself off the horse and fell clear, just as Marco slumped completely beneath her, dropped down on his side and began to roll.

The girls watched helplessly as the gelding thrashed back and forth. Georgie heard a loud crack as the tree that ran down the inside of the polo saddle was literally snapped in two. If she'd stayed onboard it could just as easily have been her spine snapping as Marco had crushed her beneath him.

With a look of triumph, having got rid of his rider and destroyed his saddle, the chestnut gelding stood up and shook himself with a satisfied grunt.

“What did I say?” Daisy helped Georgie to her feet. “That horse is a lunatic.”

Georgie, still shaking from her forced dismount, couldn't disagree with her.

Marco was proving to be the worst purchase she had ever made. He would have to go. And she knew the only person who would possibly take him on.

“I'd better call Riley.”

*

Georgie had been glad of an excuse to call Riley. She hadn't spoken to him since they'd had that stupid fight. She was prepared for him to hang up on her, but he listened to what Georgie had to say, and seemed strangely unsurprised when Georgie told him about Marco's misdemeanours.

“It sounds like you've bought yourself some trouble,” Riley said. “I'll take him off your hands if you want. I'll do you a straight trade. I've got a little grey mare here, one of my breakers, that might make you a good polo pony. She's built for it – good hindquarters and hocks, and she's a sweetheart to ride.”

“She sounds great.” Georgie was so relieved. She was even more stunned when Riley said. “I'll come by after school tomorrow and bring the mare and take Marco. Meet me at the stables at five.”

“Thanks, Riley.” Georgie couldn't believe he was bringing the mare to the school. She knew how much Riley hated having anything to do with Blainford. “I really appreciate it. I thought after the other day that you might not even speak to me…”

She stopped talking when she realised that there was no one at the other end of the phone. Riley had already hung up.

*

The next day after school Riley arrived in the horse truck and the girls all gathered round to see the new pony. Georgie had told them that the mare was one of Riley's ‘breakers' – a young, just-broken-in horse. Georgie hadn't been expecting much – a breaker was usually not long in from the wild, with a coarse coat, tangled mane and not much condition. But the grey mare that Riley brought out of the truck was the total opposite. She was a glossy dapple-grey, well-fed and rounded with a beautifully hogged mane and trimmed fetlocks. She had a handsome face with a very slight Roman nose and deep brown eyes that looked wise beyond her years.

“She's gorgeous!” Georgie couldn't believe it.

“She's a nice mare,” Riley agreed.

“How old is she?” Georgie asked.

“Nearly five,” Riley said. “Dad won her in a claiming race when she was just a yearling.”

“What's that?” Georgie asked.

“It's a race where the winner can claim your horse,” Riley explained. “Dad did a deal with one of the jockeys and somehow I ended up with her. She was too young to do anything so I turned her out to grow until she was three and then last year I started to break her in. I was planning to race her this season, but she'll make a good polo pony.”

Georgie ran a hand over the mare's glossy dappled coat. She felt every bit as smooth and muscular as she looked. Her conformation was amazing, short-coupled just like a polo pony should be with a length of neck and good hard hooves.

“What's her name?” Georgie asked.

“Princess.”

“No, really. What's her name?”

Riley shrugged. “I thought it suited her.”

Georgie put her arm round the mare's neck. “What do you say, Princess? You want to stay here with us girls and learn to play polo?”

“She already knows a few polo moves,” Riley confessed. “I've been training her up for the past week or so in the round pen at home. She's a quick learner.”

Georgie couldn't believe it. Riley had even been schooling the mare for her? It was far too good to be true.

“Are you sure you want to trade her for Marco?” Georgie asked.

“Hey!” Alice interjected. “Don't discourage him!” Riley grinned. “I'm sure,” he said. “You have the mare. I'll take Marco.”

“Come on,” Alice said, “let's get him on the truck before Riley changes his mind.”

Loading Marco was potentially a three-man job so Emily and Daisy both went out with Alice, leaving Riley and Georgie to put Princess in the loose box.

They put the mare into Marco's old stall, sliding the bolt across on the bottom Dutch door so that she could still look out into the corridor and see her new stable mates.

“So,” Riley looked around uncomfortably, “I guess I better get going before the lord of the manor turns up and freaks out at me for talking to you like last time.”

“He's not like that,” Georgie said looking down at James's polo ring round her finger.

“Oh no, he's real friendly,” Riley said sarcastically. Riley shuffled about and hesitated for a moment and then he said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what?”

“You know what you were saying the other day, about how I didn't call you? Well, what if I had? If I'd called you after the Formal, do you think you'd still be going out with him… instead of me?”

“What?” Georgie felt confused. “Riley, I can't answer that. I don't know.”

“Because the thing is,” Riley continued, “if you want to know the truth, I've been wanting to call you every day since that dance.”

“So why didn't you?”

Riley pulled a face. “Geez, Georgie, I don't know. It's this whole Blainford thing. I got home that night after the dance in my rented suit and I realised I was kidding myself. I don't belong here.”

“But that doesn't matter,” Georgie said. “I'm the one who goes to school here – not you.”

“That's my point,” Riley said. “You're supposed to be here. You and I, we're different.”