The Auditions. Stacy Gregg

girth and preparing to mount up. As she adjusted the black pony’s noseband she leant in so that her face was right up close. “This is it, Tyro,” she whispered. “We’ve been given another chance to make it to Blainford. Just don’t tell anyone you’re not a real showjumper, OK? We’re going to go in there and fox them and make it through. All you have to do is go clear.”

      The Connemara cocked one ear to listen as she spoke and Georgie hoped that her pony understood what she was saying. He was a seasoned eventer and was probably expecting business as usual–a dressage test followed by cross-country then showjumping. But today they would be going straight to the showjumping ring. And they’d be going over the biggest fences Tyro had ever jumped in his life.

      In the ring competitor number thirty-one, Sybil Hawley, was just completing a round that left the audience with their hearts in their mouths. Sybil had a strange style, galloping wildly between fences and then yanking Caprice in the mouth, before throwing the reins away right before the fence. Poor Caprice! The grey mare was clearly being driven mad by her rider’s busy hands and spent most of the round trying to get above the bit, her head held high and the whites of her eyes showing. It was seat-of-the-pants stuff over every jump, but somehow they got through.

      “A clear round for Sybil Hawley and Caprice. Can competitor thirty-two, Georgina Parker and Tyro, please enter the arena!” The announcer’s voice boomed over the tannoy.

      As the two girls rode past each other in opposite directions through the narrow entrance to the arena, Georgie gave Sybil a smile but it wasn’t returned. When she recalled this later, Georgie thought she saw Sybil out of the corner of her eye, surreptitiously raising her whip. She didn’t see what happened next, but suddenly Tyro had shot forward underneath her, bolting into the arena. Did Sybil hit Tyro with her whip? All Georgie knew was that Tyro was calm one moment and then he’d gone like a rocket.

      “Hoi! Tyro!” Georgie was so totally focused on hanging on to her pony she had completely stopped paying attention to the loudspeaker. When she finally had Tyro settled into a steady canter, she noticed that the warbling banter which normally poured out through the tannoy between rounds had stopped. There was only deafening silence as the crowd waited for her round to begin. Georgie began to panic. Had they rung the bell to start and she hadn’t noticed? Had she missed her cue? She wasn’t very experienced at showjumping but she knew that if they had rung the bell, then she only had a minute to cross the start line or she would be eliminated! She looked around at the audience, trying to find Lucinda. There was no sign of her trainer and still no sound from the loudspeaker. They must have rung the bell already!

      In a mad panic, Georgie turned Tyro and headed back up the arena towards the start line. She did a quick loop at a brisk canter and then rode the black pony forward. She was half a stride over the line when she heard the bell ring out. She hadn’t missed it after all! Well, that was fine now–she was off!

      At the first jump, Tyro’s stride was too long and he leapt from too far back. Georgie was certain that he would drop his hind legs over the back rails and drop a pole, but he only contacted the rail gently with his fetlocks and the pole stayed in its cup.

      At fence two she was back in control and rode the pony perfectly into the jump, taking it neatly. Tyro gave a little buck, flinging his legs up in high spirits as if to say, “piece of cake!”

      By the time they reached the bogey fence, the treble, Georgie had hit her stride. The final spread was really huge and she felt her tummy tie up in nervous knots, but she did what any good rider does when they are scared–she kicked on. “Come on!” she shouted at Tyro. He lifted up into the air and took the jump. They were still clear!

      Then before she could even think about it, she was over the green plank upright and the last jump, a wide oxer made of pale blue rails, and then Georgie was through the flags and the crowd was clapping. It was the third clear round of the day!

      “Oh well done! Well done!” Lucinda raced up to her as she emerged from the arena.

      “He was genius, wasn’t he?” Georgie enthused. “Did you see the way he took the treble?”

      “You were both brilliant!” Lucinda told her with a huge grin on her face. “You’re through to the next round.”

      “I don’t think so!” a voice boomed out. Georgie looked up and saw the orange face of Mrs Hawley bearing down on them. If Mrs Hawley had looked thunderous earlier in the practice ring, now she looked positively volcanic.

      “You’re a cheat!”

      These words were said with such venom that Georgie and Lucinda were dumbstruck. Unfortunately, Mrs Hawley wasn’t and she continued with her vicious rant. “I’ve reported you to the selector!” Mrs Hawley raved. “I’m going to see to it that you are eliminated!”

      “What are you talking about?” Lucinda Milwood was baffled.

      “Your daughter broke across the start line before the bell,” Mrs Hawley snarled. “Everyone saw it.”

      “She’s not my daughter,” Lucinda corrected her, “and this round wasn’t being judged on time. Who cares if she crossed the line early?”

      “It’s against the rules!” Mrs Hawley’s face was puce with rage beneath the orange tan. “The girl should be eliminated from the competition. You’ll see! I’ve already taken this to the highest level. The selector is on her way over here now!”

      Through the crowds came a slender woman wearing dove grey jodhpurs and a navy blouse, her walnut-brown hair held back by a pair of stylish black sunglasses.

      Mrs Hawley looked smug as the selector approached. The smugness rapidly vanished when the woman in grey jodhpurs took one look at Lucinda Milwood, shrieked with delight and gave her an enormous hug.

      “Lucy!” she exclaimed. “My God! Lucy Milwood! It’s been such a long time, but you haven’t changed one bit!”

      Georgie’s trainer laughed. “You neither! It’s so good to see you!”

      Mrs Hawley was gasping like a goldfish. This was not the result she had been hoping for.

      The selector ignored Mrs Hawley and turned her attention to Georgie. “So this must be Ginny’s daughter?” She had a strange expression on her face as she stared hard at Georgie. “You are the spitting image of your mother. Let’s hope you can ride like her as well.”

      “Georgie,” Lucinda smiled, “I’d like you to meet the only rider who ever beat your mother around the cross-country course at Blainford Academy.

      “Say hello to Tara Kelly.”

       Chapter Four

      The fact that Tara and Lucinda were clearly old friends only made matters worse as far as Mrs Hawley was concerned.

      “Blatant favouritism!” she fumed.

      Tara Kelly had been chief selector at Blainford for long enough to know how to handle pushy parents. “Mrs Hawley,” she said firmly, “as Blainford’s chief of admissions and head selector, I can assure you that I am completely impartial at all times.”

      Mrs Hawley had a malicious glint in her eye. “So does that mean you’ll disqualify her?”

      “The rules clearly state that if a rider in any way gains an advantage by crossing the line before the bell then they will be disqualified,” Tara said.

      Georgie felt her heart pounding in her ears. This couldn’t be happening. It was bad enough to lose her chance of going to Blainford with that freak accident at the water jump. Now, to be eliminated again because of some crazy rule! Georgie looked at Sybil who was smiling wickedly from behind Tara’s back and waggling her whip at her.

      “But I didn’t hear the bell,” Georgie protested, “it wasn’t my fault.”

      Tara