The Prize

“Because…” Nicholas paused. “Because… it is no big deal. There is nothing to say.”

“Nicholas,” Alice was insistent, “you’re in a cast. You have crutches. It looks like a big deal to us.”

Nicholas shrugged.

“Come on,” Cameron persisted. “Tell us how you did it.”

Nicholas cast a sideways glance, checking the room to see if anyone else was near the eventers’ table.

“OK,” he said, leaning in over the table, his voice hushed in a conspiratorial tone. “I will tell you what happened.”

The riders all leaned in and waited in silence for him to speak. Nicholas looked serious. And then, in a quiet voice he said, “I was playing tennis.”

There was a choking sound as Matt Garrett almost snorted his orange juice out through his nose. “Tennis? Seriously? You did it playing tennis?”

Nicholas looked around the room nervously. “Please don’t tell anyone,” he said. “I’ve already had three girls ask to sign my cast. They think I did it falling off on a three-star course in Saumur. If they knew that I tripped making a backhand shot it wouldn’t be good for my reputation.”

The whole eventing table were laughing.

“It’s not funny,” Nicholas said indignantly. “It’s a hairline fracture at the ankle. I’ll be in this cast for seven weeks.”

“You’ve got to see the irony, Nicholas,” Alice said. “You’ve survived three terms in Tara’s class and then you go home for two weeks and manage to break a leg playing tennis!”

“Shhh!” Nicholas hushed her. “Someone will hear you.”

“Bad luck, mate,” Matt Garrett drawled in his heavy Australian accent. “I suppose this means you’re eliminated since you can’t ride?”

Nicholas glared at him. “No, actually. Tara’s offered me a place in the second year already based on my class ranking.”

“Is that so?” Matt looked less than impressed with this news. “Smart move, man – instant upgrade without any final exam pressure. Maybe I should have broken my leg too.”

“There’s plenty of time for that,” Nicholas shot back.

“I don’t think so, Nico,” Matt replied, turning back to his burger. “I don’t fall off.”

“If you were handing out a prize for arrogance how could you choose between Nicholas and Matt?” Alice said as they walked to class the next morning.

“I feel sorry for Nicholas,” Emily said. “It must be awful not being able to ride.”

“Totally,” Georgie agreed. “Tough as Tara’s classes are, it’s even worse when you’re not in them.”

Today, at last, Georgie was returning to cross-country class. But first she had regular morning school lessons to get through.

Blainford Academy split the school day into two halves. The morning classes were held in the main grounds of the college in the red brick Georgian buildings that surrounded the green square of grass in the middle of the school known as the quad.

Mornings were taken up with science and maths, French and German, geography and English – during which the Blainford girls dressed like students at any other exclusive private school, in blue pleated pinafore dresses and navy blazers with the school crest in pale blue and silver on the breast pocket.

But after lunch the pupils headed back to their boarding houses and changed into their ‘number twos’ – their riding uniform of navy jods and a pale blue shirt – in preparation for their afternoon lessons with their horses.

For Tara Kelly’s class the pupils were also required to wear back protectors, and as Georgie did up the Velcro straps on hers that afternoon she felt like her old self once more: back in the eventers’ ranks, where she belonged.

In the loose box beside her, Belle was tacked up and ready to go in her cross-country saddle and martingale. Georgie was bent down adjusting the tendon boots on the mare’s forelegs when she caught sight of someone leaning over the Dutch door. Georgie looked up expecting to see one of her classmates. Her smile evaporated when she caught sight of the glossy red hair and waspish features of Kennedy Kirkwood.

“So it’s true that you’re making a comeback?” Kennedy’s tone was sarky. “What a pity. I’d hoped it was just a vicious rumour.”

Georgie stood up and wiped her hands on her jods. “Yeah,” she said, “tough luck, Kennedy. And after you went to all that trouble of sabotaging me.”

“Wow!” Kennedy put her manicured hands to her face in mock horror. “That really hurts, Georgie. You know, it’s such a shame the way things have turned out with us.”

“Yeah,” Georgie agreed. “You’re right Kennedy. Where did things go wrong? Do you think it was when you tried to split up me and James by writing fake letters or when you nearly killed me by barging into my horse on the cross-country course?”

“Oh, poor Georgie!” Kennedy sighed. “It’s always someone else’s fault, isn’t it? You’re always looking for someone to blame for your failures. Playing for sympathy because you’ve got no breeding, no money, no talent and no mommy.”

Georgie was speechless. Even by Kirkwood standards it was vicious.

Kennedy looked Georgie right in the eye, her voice as cold as steel. “You’ve been a thorn in my side ever since you got to this school. I’ve watched my lame brother fall for your British act like he’s Prince William and you’re Kate Middleton. And I’ve watched Tara treat you like you’re something special. But the truth is you don’t deserve to be at Blainford. You think the past three terms have been tough, Parker? You’ve got no idea how miserable I can make your wormy little life.”

“Is that a threat?” Georgie asked in disbelief.

“Duh!” Kennedy pulled a face. “I’m a Kirkwood. We don’t make threats. We have staff to do that stuff for us.”

Smirking, Kennedy turned to leave and then swung back around. “By the way, my boyfriend asked me to remind you you’re on Fatigues this week. He hasn’t forgotten, and he’s got something special planned, just for you.”

Chapter Three

Typical Kennedy, Georgie fumed as she led Belle out of her box, she waits until now to confront me so that she’ll throw me off my game right before Tara’s class.

She knew Kennedy well enough to recognise her transparent tactics, but that didn’t make it any easier to calm down. She was still bristling with latent fury as she rode towards her classmates who were already assembling on the cross-country course.

“What’s up with you?” Alice asked when saw the look on Georgie’s face.

“Kennedy is what’s up,” Georgie hissed. She could see the showjumperettes watching and she didn’t want to give Kennedy the satisfaction of knowing they were talking about her. “She’s a total witch!”

“And this is news how?” Alice muttered back. “Georgie, you know she only has it in for you because she thinks you’re a threat…”

The students suddenly fell silent as a young woman wearing dove grey jodhpurs and a crisp white blouse walked to the front leading a bay gelding. Her demeanour made it clear that she was in charge.

“Welcome back,” Tara Kelly said. “I know your horses are fresh from having two weeks’ holiday, and Alice has a new horse who has never done cross-country before, so we are going to spend the day doing confidence-building exercises.”

The eventing mistress mounted up on the handsome bright bay, which Georgie now recognised as Lagerfeld, Nicholas Laurent’s well-bred Selle Francais. Tara was keeping the horse in work while Nicholas was in plaster.

“Our basics today consist of three classic ‘bogey’ fences,” Tara said, “and the twist is, we’re going to be jumping them at a walk.”

Daisy looked at the ditch that Tara had nominated as their first fence. “She can’t be serious!”

Alex Chang raised a tentative hand.

“Yes, Alex?”