The Auditions

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Keep Reading

About the Author

Also by Stacy Gregg

About the Publisher

Chapter One

The black gelding snorted and fretted, moving anxiously from side to side in the start box. Holding him back, the girl tightened her grip on the reins as she waited for the steward to check his clipboard.

“Number forty-two… forty-two … let me see …” the steward ran his eyes down the list, “forty-two … here you are! Georgina Parker, yes?” He cast a glance at the pony dancing and crab-stepping. “And this must be Tyro.”

As the steward said his name, the black pony went straight up on his hind legs in a half-rear and then lunged forward, trying to bolt. The sudden movement threw his rider back in the saddle, but she regained her seat with lightning speed. Before the pony could getaway, she had pulled hard to the left, turning him in a tight circle so that he was back in the same position as moments before, in the start box facing out over the hill that led down to the first jump of the cross-country course.

“Nearly lost you!” the steward joked. “You don’t want to fall off before you even get started, do you?”

“Falling off is most definitely not part of the plan,” Georgie agreed. She was trying to stay calm, but as the steward fussed over his clipboard she could feel the adrenalin surging through her. She was ready to go and so was Tyro. Hurry up, she thought, I can’t keep holding him! My arms already feel as feeble as worn-out knicker elastic from hanging on so long!

The steward seemed to understand her silent plea. “Right then, bring him up to the start line,” he told her. “Are you ready? On your marks … and … three … two… one… GO!”

Tyro broke from the start box and this time Georgie didn’t try to hold him back. She stood up in her stirrups like a jockey and put her reins in her left hand, freeing up her right hand to press the button on her stopwatch.

She was battling the clock today. She had to make it round the course with a clear round and no time faults if she wanted to retain her first place ranking.

This morning in the dressage arena, Georgie and Tyro had done their best-ever test and totally aced the first phase of the one-day event. Right now, they were just ahead of Georgie’s closest rival, Daisy King, at the top of the leader board. But the scores were tight. There were only two points between Georgie and Daisy, and there were several other riders hot on her heels just a few points behind. Georgie would need to bring her A-game and get a perfect round in both the cross-country and showjumping phases to maintain her lead.

From the moment that morning when horse lorries and trailers had begun arriving at the Great Brampton grounds, Georgie had sensed the tension in the air. So much was riding on this competition, not just for her, but for hundreds of young eventing riders from across the UK gathered here today. All of them had just one aim: to make it into the top three and survive this gruelling semi-final audition and progress to the grand finals in Birmingham. There, they would battle it out against riders from every discipline to become the chosen ones. In the end, only five finalists would be selected. Their prize: admission to the famed Blainford Academy in Lexington, USA.

Blainford Academy had been Georgie’s dream ever since she could remember. The exclusive equestrian boarding school was the place to go if you were serious about becoming a professional horse rider. No other college could rival Blainford’s record. It was known as the ‘All-Stars Academy’ since its graduates were the world champions in every kind of equestrian sport.

Blainford’s recruitment process was international. The academy’s talent scouts travelled the world, holding auditions for the very best riders from around the globe. Thousands of riders applied, but only a few could be chosen–and Georgie was determined that she was going to be one of them.

A win at Great Brampton would send Georgie straight through to the Birmingham grand finals in two weeks’ time. As they flew out of the start box she could feel success within her grasp. The cross-country course was the biggest Georgie had ever tackled but she had faith in Tyro’s abilities. The pony was fit and keen and as they approached the first jump he was galloping on strongly, his ears pricked forward with excitement, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

Fence one was a low hedge, no more than half a metre high. Tyro had jumped twice this height in the paddock at home, but Georgie wasn’t taking any chances. She rode at it with such fierce determination you’d have sworn she was attacking the huntsman’s close at the Badminton Horse Trials.

Tyro flew the hedge and Georgie gave the gelding a slappy pat on his jet-black neck, “Good boy!” She picked up the pace again and galloped him on towards a fallen log positioned at the top of a steep bank.

Georgie had to steady Tyro as he was galloping a little too fast. Then, as he took the jump, she leaned back to keep her balance, keeping her weight over his rump as he flew the log with a big stride that took him halfway down the bank. In two quick downhill strides he was at the bottom and Georgie straightened back up again. She stood up in her stirrups in two-point position and rode him hard towards the next fence already looming ahead of them; a narrow rustic gate. Tyro popped it as if it weren’t even there, and Georgie leant down low and murmured words of encouragement as she pressed him to go faster. Tyro seemed to understand and extended his stride, galloping beautifully as they neared the water complex.

Of all the fences on the course it was the water complex that had Georgie worried. Tyro hadn’t always been the bravest pony when it came to water jumps and so, with her heart hammering in her chest, she rode him on boldly at the brush fence that led into the water.

“Come on!” she shouted to encourage him as they approached the jump. But there was no need. Tyro leapt confidently, without hesitation into the pond. The murky brown water churned into a wake behind them as he cantered towards the low bank at the other end of the pond.

As they reached the low bank, Georgie felt the pony prepare to take off. She could feel him picking up underneath her, and then in one awful moment it all went wrong. Instead of jumping out and on to the bank, Tyro plummeted down into the water. It was as if the pony’s legs had collapsed beneath him. He fell down hard, twisting and somersaulting on to his back, taking a horrified Georgie with him as he went under the water.

Georgie didn’t even have time to scream as they fell. She felt the ice-cold shock of the water and then Tyro was right on top of her, pushing her under, crushing her with the enormous weight of his body.

Georgie tried to take a last gasp of air but inhaled dirty water instead. The pond was no more than a metre deep, but that was deep enough. She was submerged underneath Tyro, and the pony was flailing about on top of her trying to get back on his feet again.

Then, in a sudden rush, the massive weight of the pony was gone. Tyro had managed to stand up, and now Georgie was fighting her way up too, struggling to breathe as she broke the surface, coughing up lungfuls of scummy pond water.

The jump steward was the first person to reach her. His face was white with shock and Georgie realised that the fall must have been quite spectacular.

“Are you OK?” the steward asked as he waded into the water and grasped Tyro’s reins, holding him while Georgie stood up. She was shaky on her feet, but she was standing and she was breathing, and since a few moments ago neither of these was possible, she was quite relieved.

“That was a really bad fall,” the steward said. “Are you hurt? Do you need me to get the ambulance?”

“I’m fine,” Georgie was still coughing, trying to get her breath back, “although I think I might have swallowed a tadpole …”

“Georgie!” There was a shout from the sidelines and Georgie turned round to see a woman with brown hair leap over the rope fence and run towards her.

“What happened?” the woman asked when she reached Georgie’s side.

“I don’t know!” Georgie shook her head. “He was about to jump. I felt him lift up and then something went wrong and he went down so fast …”

“Are you her mother?” the steward asked.

“No,” the woman replied. “I’m Lucinda Milwood, I’m her trainer.”

Lucinda took the reins from the steward and led Tyro up on to the bank beside the pond while Georgie hunted in the muddy, churned-up pond muck for her riding crop. She found it floating near the edge by some reeds and ran up the bank to rejoin Lucinda who was bent down over Tyro’s front legs.

“I think I’ve figured out what happened,” Lucinda said. “Look at this!”

She pulled the bell boot off Tyro’s left front hoof and handed it to Georgie. There was a huge rip in the rubber.

“I think that’s what did it,” Lucinda said. “He must have stood on his own boot with one of his hind legs, and then when he tried to jump he tripped himself up instead! No wonder he fell so suddenly.”

“Ohmygod!” Georgie shook her head in stunned disbelief.

“It was just bad luck,” Lucinda said gently, “there was nothing you could have done …”

There was a commotion on the sidelines as a man emerged at the front of the crowd, jumped over the rope barrier and ran towards Georgie and Lucinda.

“Sorry, sir.” The steward stepped forward to stop him. “Spectators aren’t allowed on the track right now. There’s been an accident with this young rider and we need to clear the course for the next competitor …”

“I’m a doctor,” the man responded firmly. He looked at Georgie standing in sodden jodhpurs beside the bedraggled Tyro. “And I’m also her father.”

“I know it looks bad, Alastair, but they’re both all right.” Lucinda tried to reassure him, but Dr Parker ignored her and began to examine Georgie, peering into her eyes, checking to see if her pupils were dilated.

“Dad! Stop it! I’m totally fine!” Georgie couldn’t believe her luck! Why did her dad have to be watching at this fence? Having him fuss over her like this in front of everyone when all she wanted to do was get back on Tyro was so frustrating.

Dr Parker however was oblivious to Georgie’s impatience. “Were you knocked out at any point?” he asked as he continued to look into her eyes. “Do you remember everything that happened?”

“She’s not hurt, Alastair,” Lucinda tried to tell him but Dr Parker snapped at her.

“.and you’re not a doctor, Lucinda, so please let me take care of my daughter!”

“I’m terribly sorry.” the steward interrupted, “but we really do need to clear the course now. Is she going to mount up and continue?”

“What?” Dr Parker looked shocked at the idea. “She most certainly is not!”

“Dad! I can do it!” Georgie pleaded. “Lucinda, tell him! I need to finish!”

But her trainer shook her head. “Your father is right. Let’s take Tyro back to the truck.”

“But we’ll be eliminated!” Georgie couldn’t believe Lucinda was agreeing with her dad.

“Georgie,” Lucinda said gently, “you’ve had a fall. Elimination doesn’t matter now. You could get back on and finish the course but that won’t change anything… it’s over.”

Deep down Georgie knew that there was no point in getting back on. A fall on the cross-country course automatically cost a rider sixty faults. And this fall had cost her much more than that. With sixty faults there was no way she could win. All those hours of training had been reduced to nothing in one brief moment of misfortune at the water jump. Her dream had been lost forever. She had failed the auditions for Blainford Academy.

At Little Brampton Stables that evening, Georgie checked Tyro over one more time, running her hands down his legs looking for any signs of heat that might indicate an injury. The black pony seemed sound enough, so she threw on his lightweight summer rug, and turned him out in the field with his hard feed.

Georgie watched as Tyro snuffled about eagerly consuming the contents of his feed bucket. He was a greedy pony and a quick eater, and always managed to hoover up every last crumb.

With the now empty feed bucket under her arm, Georgie headed back to the tack room to deal with Tyro’s saddle and bridle. They were caked in mud from the fall so she sat down on a pile of old horse rugs with a cake of saddle soap and a cloth and got to work on the stirrup leathers.

Georgie loved the tack room at Lucinda’s stables. It smelt of horse sweat and leather, and sometimes a little bit of dead mouse, but she didn’t mind that too much. She often sat in here and looked at the walls, covered with her trainer’s rosettes, ribbons and photographs.

As she began to wipe down Tyro’s bridle, Georgie’s eyes scanned the walls. There were photos of Lucinda, taken at school when she was a student at Blainford. Lucinda hadn’t changed much since those days and looked just the same, with her smiling eyes and her brown hair in a messy ponytail. The girl who featured in most of the photos with Lucinda also had long brown hair and a broad smile. She was Ginny Parker, Georgie’s mum and Lucinda Milwood’s best friend at Blainford. After they left school Ginny had gone on to become a famous international eventing rider and it was no secret that Georgie wanted to follow in her footsteps.

Georgie’s favourite picture on the wall was an action shot of her mother riding a bay mare named Boudicca. They were in full flight over a massive stone wall, the mare had her ears pricked forward and Ginny’s hazel eyes were focused intently on the next jump ahead.

Georgie missed her mum so much. She knew it probably wouldn’t have changed the outcome if she had been there today. But she wished more than anything that her mum were here to give her a hug, to tell her that what happened on the cross-country course wasn’t her fault and that everything would be OK.

Hot tears made their way down Georgie’s cheeks. She reached up and brushed them away angrily with the back of her hand. There was no point in being like this, Georgie told herself. No use sniffling and feeling sorry for herself and hoping for things that weren’t going to happen. She had lost at Great Brampton and nothing would change that. And it was no good wishing her mum was here. Because Ginny Parker was gone, and she wasn’t coming back.

Chapter Two

Georgie’s fall at Great Brampton undoubtedly delighted Daisy King, who rose up from second place in the rankings and rode brilliantly to take first place. Strangely enough however, it wasn’t just Georgie’s rivals who were happy that she’d lost. Her friends were chuffed as well.

“I can’t help it. I think it’s brilliant news!” Lily said when Georgie told her about the water jump disaster at school the following day. “Honestly, Georgie. You’re my best friend and I can’t stand the idea of you leaving to go to some posh, horsey school in America.”

Georgie sighed. She should have known better than to expect sympathy from Lily.

“I mean,” Lily continued, “I don’t even understand why you want to go to boarding school anyway. It’s like wanting to go to prison!”

“Blainford’s not just a boarding school,” Georgie countered with exasperation. “It’s an elite training school with horses.” She didn’t know why she bothered. It was the same old argument they’d had a million times. Georgie couldn’t blame her best friend for being anti-Blainford. After all, if Georgie actually managed to get a place at the academy then it would mean moving away from Little Brampton and away from Lily. They had been best friends ever since they met at Little Brampton primary school at the age of four. Now they were thirteen and in their second year at Little Brampton High School.

“They feed you gruel at boarding school, you know,” Lily continued.

“What’s gruel?” Georgie asked.

“It’s like porridge only worse; tasteless and runny,” Lily told her. “I read a book about a boarding school where the children all got gruel and were whipped with a birch stick when they were naughty.”

Georgie groaned, “Maybe if you went to boarding school two hundred years ago it was like that, Lily. I don’t think anyone gets beaten with a birch stick at Blainford.”

“I bet they still have the gruel though,” Lily was insistent.

“The worst bit about yesterday,” Georgie said, changing the subject, “was after I fell off. I was walking back to the horse truck with Tyro, all soaked and grubby and everyone on the sidelines was watching us, and then my dad says really loudly so that everyone can hear, ‘Never mind, Georgina, how about I buy you an ice cream on the way home to cheer you up!’“ Georgie rolled her eyes. “As if I was a four-year-old who’d lost a lollipop–not an eventing rider who’d just taken a fall on the cross-country course!”

Lily giggled. “Your dad just doesn’t get it, does he?”

Georgie shook her head. “He doesn’t understand me, full stop. He never has really.”

“He’s no worse than my dad,” Lily said. “He doesn’t have a clue about me either. At least your dad was willing to let you apply to Blainford, even though the school fees must cost a bomb.”

“It’s not like it was Dad’s idea. He hates the thought of me going there. Mum was the one who had my name down on the enrolment list from the day I was born.”

It had been a massive battle for Georgie to convince Dr Parker to let her apply for Blainford. Her dad didn’t understand why she wanted to go. “You already have a pony,” he told her. “Why can’t you stay here and save riding for after school and the weekends? The local high school is perfectly adequate.”

“No, it’s not,” Georgie had told him. “Not if I want to become a world-class rider. All the best riders in the world have been to Blainford. You get to take your horse with you and you can ride every day, plus there are specialist riding classes and they teach all sorts of horse subjects as well as the regular stuff like English and maths.”

“I think you’re being swayed by the fact that your mother went to school there,” Dr Parker said. “I’m sure if we look around we could find an equestrian school here in Gloucestershire that is just as good. I believe there are several excellent ones in the county. Why does it have to be this Blainford–on the other side of the world in America?”

“Blainford is the best,” Georgie countered. “It’s not just because of Mum, honestly. It has amazing instructors.” Her dad didn’t seem to understand that half the appeal was the fact that it was a million miles away. Georgie loved their village but at the same time she was desperate to get away. Ever since her mother’s accident, she’d been so lonely here. Her dad tried hard, but he didn’t know anything about horses, or how it felt to be a thirteen-year-old girl with dreams of horsey super-stardom, stuck in boring old Little Brampton.

Georgie had nothing in common with her dad. Everyone said she was just like her mum, tall and willowy with a fair complexion and smattering of freckles. Her mum had brown hair, though, and Georgie’s was blonde. “If I were a pony,” Georgie liked to ask her mother, “what colour would I be?”

“Oh, a palomino, I should think,” Mrs Parker would reply, “with your beautiful flaxen mane. Not a boring brown mare like your mum.”

Georgie was ten years old when Ginny Parker took the fatal fall that ended her life. The accident happened on the cross-country course at the Blenheim three-star. Ginny Parker had been riding two horses that day. The famed chestnut gelding, The Interloper, generally considered her best horse, and the other her favourite mare, a stunning bay with a white heart-shaped marking on her forehead, whose name was Boudicca.

Mrs Parker always took her daughter to the big competitions. But on this particular weekend Little Brampton was having a gymkhana and so, instead of travelling with her mum, Georgie decided to stay and take Tyro on his first outing. It was a decision she would always regret. If she had known what was going to happen that day she would have been by her mother’s side. Instead, when Ginny Parker fell, Georgie was scooping up prizes on Tyro at the gymkhana, completely oblivious to the fact that her life was about to change forever.

No one really knew exactly what happened on the course at Blenheim Palace. Everyone said that Boudicca was going brilliantly, until she reached a fence known as the Blenheim coffin. Ginny Parker had urged the mare over the log at the top of the steep bank, and Boudicca flew the jump with ease, but as she landed, the mare somehow lost her footing. Ginny tried to correct her, but it was too late. Instead of jumping the ditch at the bottom of the bank Boudicca somersaulted into it–with Georgie’s mum pinned underneath her.