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.”
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 ignored her. “As I was saying,” she continued, “riders are disqualified if they have gained an advantage by crossing the line early. But since this round wasn’t a jump-off against the clock the time didn’t matter. Georgie gained nothing by crossing the line early.”
“So.?” Mrs Hawley bristled.
“There will be no elimination. She’s going through to the next round.”
Mrs Hawley stomped off angrily as Tara looked at her watch. “I’d better get back to the selectors’ tent,” she said. “There are still sixty riders to get through the first phase before lunch break.”
“Why don’t you come and meet us at my lorry for lunch?” Lucinda offered.
Tara shook her head. “I don’t think that would be wise. We don’t want to give the Mrs Hawleys of this world a chance to cry favouritism again, do we?” The chief selector turned to Georgie. “I’m surprised to see you here today, Georgina. I didn’t think Ginny’s daughter would be a showjumper.”
“I’m an eventer, really,” Georgie said, “at least, I want to be one.”
“Good!” Tara said brightly. “So if you make it through the auditions I can look forward to having you in my cross-country classes.”
Georgie felt quite pleased until Tara added, “It’s the toughest course at Blainford. If a rider isn’t good enough they’re gone. Only half the students who start the year with me will make it through to the end. It’s dangerous too–the cross-country department holds the record for more broken bones than the rest of the school put together. Perhaps you might like to reconsider and take up showjumping–it’s a much safer option.”
And with that, Tara waved a brisk goodbye and headed back to the selectors’ tent. Georgie was wide-eyed as she watched her go. “Broken bones? Is she running a cross-country class or Accident and Emergency?”
Lucinda sighed. “Don’t be put off. Tara loves to come across as icy and strict when in fact she’s.” Lucinda paused. “Well, actually, that’s pretty much what she’s like. She’s a perfectionist–and at her peak she was ranked one of the best riders in the world. She’s a brilliant teacher. If you’re lucky enough to get into her class at Blainford you should jump at the chance.”
Although Tara turned down Lucinda’s offer of lunch, they had company as Olivia and her mum came over to join them. For dessert Mrs Prescott brought jam tarts and Lucinda produced her irresistible ginger crunch.
Olivia had two slices and then pronounced that the butterflies in her tummy now felt even worse than before.
“I’ve eaten too much! I won’t make it through in the jump-offs,” she groaned as she lay back on the ramp of the lorry holding her tummy.
“Yes,” Georgie agreed, “it was my cunning plan to invite you over to scoff all the ginger crunch.”
Olivia and Molly had put in a very professional round that morning, jumping the course so smoothly and cleanly they made it look easy, which it wasn’t. From the total pool of 116 riders, only a meagre fourteen had made it through to the next round. The rest were packing their horses into their lorries and trailers for the drive home.
“I can’t believe Sybil Hawley got through,” Georgie groaned. “Did you hear her mum shrieking on the sidelines?”
Olivia giggled,
