they had reached the sanctuary of the stable block, Dominic performed a flying dismount and threw the reins at a puffed, exhausted Frannie.
He was still bristling with uncontrollable, violent anger, but he managed to resist taking it out on his horse. Instead, he stormed off in a huff and, out of sight of the other riders or crowds, he began to thrash at the ground with his riding crop. In a blind rage he rained down blow after blow until the whip broke in his hand, then Dominic dropped to his knees, a spent force exhausted by his own fury.
His two grooms knew better than to try and comfort him. “Let’s get out of here…” Louise told Frannie.
Taking Maxi’s reins, she turned the grey stallion to head for the stables when Dominic rose up off his knees and turned to her.
“Head girl!” he barked, “Come here!”
Louise handed Frannie back the reins and took a reluctant step towards her employer. “Yes, Dominic?”
“Why didn’t you warm the horse up like I told you to?” Dominic asked through gritted teeth.
Louise didn’t know what to say. Dominic had specifically ordered her not to warm up Maxi. But her boss seemed to have conveniently forgotten this fact. “You told me to wait for you,” she said nervously.
“No I didn’t.” Dominic corrected her.
“But Dominic…” Louise began to argue but her employer shot her down with a cold stare.
“Since you have so much trouble understanding my instructions, I want you to listen very carefully,” Dominic said, “because I am going to tell you exactly what I want you to do.”
Louise nodded, “Yes, sir.”
“I want you to go back to the horse truck, pack your bags and leave.”
Louise looked puzzled. “What? You’re joking, right?”
“Blackwell doesn’t joke!” Dominic replied. “Get your stuff together and go! As of this moment, you no longer work for me. I don’t need some half-witted incompetent as my head girl.”
Louise was horrified.
“Now get out of my sight!” Dominic roared. “You’re fired.”
He turned to his junior groom. “Oh and Frannie? You can go too.”
Frannie stood there for a moment in disbelief. “Me? But why?”
“Because,” Dominic said through gritted teeth, “I was in the middle of a very important conversation with one of my owners when you interrupted me!”
“But you would have missed your ride if I hadn’t come to get you!” Frannie blurted out.
“Talking back counts as insubordination in my stables!” Dominic snapped. “You are double-fired!”
As the realisation dawned that her boss was serious, Frannie promptly burst into tears and followed Louise who was already stomping off to the horse truck.
Dominic Blackwell watched their departure with a smug sense of satisfaction. After a disappointing performance in the arena it had at least cheered him up to rage at his staff. It was of slight concern that he’d fired both girls at once. Normally Dominic liked to keep at least one groom in his good books but his temper had been taking its toll lately. He’d fired six grooms in the past six months and these two raised the total to eight.
Dominic Blackwell frowned. He should have held his temper until Frannie had finished her work and then fired her. Now he would be forced to untack Maxi himself. Some riders enjoyed being around their horses; schooling and training – but Dominic Blackwell was not one of them. He lived purely for the thrill of the show ring and the roar of the adoring crowd. The behind-the-scenes stuff was what grooms were for. Or, he thought, that was what they had been for before he got rid of them all.
The problem was, Dominic had developed a bit of a reputation on the circuit and good staff were becoming harder and harder for him to find.
Well, big deal. Dominic huffed as he unsaddled Maxi and loaded his own kit into the truck. Grooms were a dime a dozen. There was bound to be a good, keen stablehand out there who’d be thrilled to work for the famous Dominic Blackwell – a professional head girl who could meet his exacting and high standards without falling apart. The perfect groom was out there. He just had to find her.
Georgie Parker stood up her stirrups and looked directly between the pair of ears in front of her, fixing her gaze on the hedge.
It was hardly a big fence, not by Blainford Academy standards, and Georgie didn’t even bother to slow Belladonna down as she came at it. She let the mare gallop, only taking a last-minute check on the reins when she was close enough to see a stride and then sitting deep in the saddle and driving the mare on with her legs. The mare’s dark bay ears pricked forward at the hedge and then Georgie felt the horse lift up beneath her. There was that brilliant moment of suspension when they were sailing in mid-air, and then they were landing again on the other side and galloping for home.
The grounds of the school were in sight and ahead of them was the start of the bridle path that led to the school grounds. This was the route the students usually took to the stables, but instead Georgie veered sharply to the right, urging Belle to stay in a gallop as she rode the mare in a straight line towards the stable block over the open grazing fields of the Academy.
“It’s OK,” she told the mare as she leaned down low over her neck, “we’re going off-road. This is a shortcut.”
Belle’s gallop stretched out, her strides devouring the green pasture. Georgie perched up in her stirrups, her weight in her heels to keep balance, her eyes still trained directly between the mare’s ears. Ahead of her she could see the fence that ran around the perimeter of the stables. Like most of the fences in Lexington Kentucky it was an elegant post and plank fence, with a five-bar wooden gate at the entrance near the stables. It would be easy enough for Georgie to pull Belle up and get off and open the gate – but where was the fun in that?
As they neared the gate, Belle snorted and hung back. She knew the difference between a jump and a school gate and she wasn’t sure about hurdling the obstacle in front of her. But Georgie put her legs on firmly and urged the mare with her voice and Belle surged forward, putting in one-two-three neat strides before soaring the five-bar gate as if it were no more than a cavaletti.
They arced over the gate, landing neatly on the grass on the other side, and by the time they had reached the verge of the concrete forecourt Georgie had pulled the mare up to a walk and was dismounting.
“Good girl!” Georgie gave the mare a slappy pat on the neck. She had run her stirrups up and was leading the mare towards the stalls when she caught sight of the boy in prefect uniform rounding the corner of the stable block.
“Uh-oh,” Georgie groaned as she recognised the arrogant lope and russet hair of Burghley’s head prefect, Conrad Miller.
Georgie could tell by the smirk on Conrad’s face that he’d seen her take the shortcut over the gate.
“Hey, Parker!” His voice had the officious tone
