Olivia burst out laughing. Georgie collapsed with the giggles too. It had been really good fun hanging out with Olivia today. Georgie hoped that they would both make it through to the finals in Birmingham.
The next round that afternoon was a speed contest and the jumps had been raised to a metre twenty. Georgie was feeling confident about riding against the clock. Tyro was the fastest pony she had ever ridden and he was brilliant at tight turns. Georgie had walked the course and was planning on taking some very tricky, extreme shortcuts. The last two jumps were key for Georgie’s alternative route, cutting a corner to come in at the planks on a sharp angle. If they could pull it off this might slash their time by two whole seconds. It was a risky strategy, but worth it if they went clear.
At 2pm there was a briefing in the main arena for the remaining fourteen riders. They were told to arrive with their horses fully tacked up. “What is this about?” Georgie asked.
Lucinda frowned. “I’m not sure, but the selectors often like to throw a curve ball at this phase to test the riders. One year they made everyone take off their saddles and compete bareback.”
Georgie looked at the enormous jumps in the arena. It would be a nightmare trying to ride a course like that bareback! Surely the selectors weren’t planning the same thing?
As the riders organised themselves, Tara Kelly walked into the arena and stood in front of them. “Can all the riders please dismount and run up your stirrups,” she announced. “We’re going to make some last minute changes.”
Georgie dismounted nervously. She felt her palms sweating as she gripped the reins. As Tara Kelly strode back and forth with arms folded across her chest, Georgie felt sick with anticipation, certain that at any moment they would be instructed to remove their saddles. But this year Blainford’s chief selector had another trial in mind.
“I know how hard you have trained to be here,” Tara said. “You’ve schooled your ponies and become a team.” She paused. “I want to see what happens when that team is torn apart.”
Tara stepped forward and began walking down the line-up, handing each rider a folded-over piece of paper. “A great rider should be able to mount up on any horse and achieve a clear round,” Tara continued as she walked along handing out the papers. “This afternoon we’ll be testing your abilities on a horse that you’ve never ridden before.”
Tara handed out the last two to Olivia and Georgie.”On your piece of paper you’ll find the name of one of the horses in this arena.” Tara paused. “That’s the horse you’ll ride for the next round. As of right now, you are swapping mounts. The names have been chosen at random. There can be no complaints and no trading. You must ride the horse you have been given. The rules of the competition remain the same–a clear round in the fastest time will win. Two refusals in this round and you are out.” Tara looked at the line-up of stunned faces. “Please open your piece of paper.”
Georgie unfolded hers and felt her stomach lurch in shock.
Tara continued, “You may go and claim the horse.” No one moved. “Hurry up and find your horses!” Tara told them. “The first rider is due to jump in twenty minutes.”
The fourteen riders suddenly began running in all directions, dragging their horses behind them in a mad rush as they frantically searched for the horse they had been drawn to ride. Georgie hadn’t moved. She was staring at the paper in disbelief. She had drawn Caprice.
“Any tips for riding her?” Georgie asked as she walked over to take Sybil’s horse.
“You must be joking!” Sybil virtually flung the reins at her. “I’m not giving you any help!”
At least Sybil hadn’t been allocated Tyro, Georgie thought as she stood holding two horses. She was dreading handing over her beloved pony to some complete stranger and kept an anxious watch on anyone who approached her. Georgie was beyond relieved when Olivia came up positively beaming, waving Tyro’s name on her slip.
“I can’t believe I got him!” Olivia said. “Isn’t this the craziest thing you’ve ever seen?”
Her hands were shaking as she took Tyro’s reins. “I’ve had Molly for two years,” she explained. “I haven’t been on another horse for ages.”
“Tyro won’t give you any trouble,” Georgie reassured her. “He never refuses a jump, but he does rush fences sometimes so sit back between them.”
“OK.” Olivia was trying to take deep breaths. “I can do that.”
“He’s fast too,” Georgie said, stroking the Connemara’s pretty face, “and he’s good at correcting his own stride. Give him his head once you hit the treble and he’ll be fine.”
“Thanks!” Olivia said and smiled at Georgie. “I know he’s special. Don’t worry. I’ll look after him, I promise.”
Lucinda was thrilled with the horse-swap challenge. “I watched this mare jump in the last round. She’s very schooled and she’s got talent,” she said, adjusting the stirrups to fit Georgie’s legs which were much shorter than Sybil’s. “If Caprice can pull off a clear round with Sybil on her back then I’m sure you can get a clear round out of her too.”
Any reservations Georgie had about swapping horses disappeared once she was up on Caprice. She was a very positive pony with big paces and when
Georgie popped her over the practice jump the mare had her ears pricked and cantered on eagerly, taking the fence off a lovely forward stride.
As the riders warmed up, their names and numbers were called over the loudspeaker. Georgie was last to go. She didn’t know if this was good or bad. She had more time to warm up, but also more time to get nervous.
“Could rider number one, Ellie Trainor, please enter the ring,” the announcer called. Georgie watched as a girl on a strawberry roan came into the collection area looking tense. That morning the same girl had done a beautiful clear round on a bay mare, but as she rode at the first jump she seemed to lose her nerve and the strawberry roan slammed on the brakes and skidded into the fence. The girl gave a half-hearted whack with her crop and swung the horse around to try again. But the roan had lost confidence in her rider and had no intention of trying to jump. She gave an outright refusal, propping and baulking, and the bell rang. The first rider had been eliminated.
On the sidelines Lucinda frowned. “You must ride at the fences as if you really mean it, Georgie. If you’re half-hearted Caprice will sense your hesitation and you’ll fail.”
As each of the riders squared up to the first jump you could tell by the look on their face whether they would make it or not. There were some awful crashes as riders lost their bottle and ponies ploughed into jumps with last minute refusals. One of these riders was Sybil Hawley. The chestnut pony she was riding made a sudden stop in front of the jump–and Sybil didn’t. She flew over the pony’s neck and landed without a horse beneath her, on her bottom on the other side of the fence. Mrs Hawley would protest of course, but Sybil’s audition was well and truly over.
By the time Olivia and Tyro were up there had been no clear rounds at all. The best scores so far belonged to two riders with eight faults each. It was beginning to look like no one could make it clear on an unknown horse.
“Come on, Olivia!” Georgie called out from the sidelines. It was the strangest sensation, watching her own pony competing without her. Georgie felt a brief moment of anguish as she watched
