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PONY CLUB RIVALS
Riding Star
STACY GREGG
Riding Star is dedicated to my riding instructor, the wonderful Nicola Ward, and to Kirsten Kelly who looks after my horse so well whenever he’s at ‘boarding school’. Also my equine support group: Sandra Noakes, Nicky Pellegrino, Fiona Curtis and Gwen Brown. I wrote the last chapters of this book in Gisborne – grateful thanks to showjumper Sarah Aitken and polo player Tom Lane who provided inspiration in so many ways. Lastly to my brilliant bay gelding, Ash – I couldn’t have done it without you.
Contents
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
About the Author
The Pony Club Rivals series
Copyright
When Georgie Parker packed her bags for Blainford Academy she was the talk of Little Brampton. The local girl made good, she had aced the UK auditions and earned herself a place at the exclusive international equestrian boarding school in Lexington, Kentucky, USA. Everyone in her tiny Gloucestershire village agreed that she was destined to follow in her famous mother’s footsteps and take the eventing world by storm.
Now she was back for Christmas break after a term away. As she stood shivering in the snow at the gates of Lucinda Milwood’s riding school, Georgie wasn’t feeling quite as upbeat about her homecoming as she’d expected.
Above her head, the dark clouds promised another snowfall that evening. The yard was empty and Georgie figured the horses must be already tucked up in their loose boxes, waiting for their hard feed. She clacked open the gates to the yard and walked up the driveway, heading for the stable block.
At the front door Georgie stood for a moment, taking a deep breath, inhaling the smell of straw, horse sweat and liniment. These stables had been a second home after her mum had died. She would come here every day before and after school to help Lucinda with the ponies, grooming and mucking out in exchange for lessons on her black Connemara, Tyro.
After Georgie made it into Blainford, she had kept in touch with Lucinda, but over the past few weeks she had failed to email her old instructor. Afraid to tell Lucinda about what had happened last term, she had delayed the inevitable. But she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer.
Or maybe she could. Lucinda was nowhere to be seen.
“Hello? Lucinda?” Georgie’s voice echoed through
the empty stable block. She was about to turn and walk out again when the tack-room door opened and a woman with dark brown hair appeared, carrying three heavy feed buckets.
Struggling with her armful of buckets, the woman barely glanced up at the blonde girl in the corridor. “I’m sorry,” she grunted, “but if you’ve come to enquire about signing up for lessons you’ll need to come back next week. We’re closed until January the fifth…”
Georgie laughed. “Lucinda! Have I really been gone so long you don’t even recognise me?”
There was a moment of disbelief and then Lucinda Milwood let out a joyful shriek, dropping the feed buckets as she raced over to Georgie and enveloped her in the most enormous hug.
“Georgie!” she cried. “What on earth are you doing here? I thought you weren’t arriving until tomorrow!”
“I got an early flight,” Georgie grinned. “I told Dad and Lily not to say anything. I wanted to surprise you.”
Lucinda beamed at her former pupil. “It’s so good to see you. I swear you’ve grown taller than me – what are they feeding you at that school?”
“Ughhh! I do not want to even think about boarding-school food for the next few weeks!” Georgie pulled a face.
“Here,” Lucinda handed her a bucket. “Help me finish off the feeds and then I’ll make us a nice cup of tea and you can tell me everything about school. How are your classes?”
“Ummm… well, actually…” Georgie started to say, but Lucinda had already headed off down the corridor.
“Give your one to Dooley,” she shouted back over her shoulder. “He’s in the first box.”
Georgie headed for the first stall and swung open the bottom half of the Dutch door, ducking underneath the top half to hang the bucket in the empty bracket on the wall.
This first loose box held a big piebald cob: black and white patches with a thick mane, fluffy feet and one blue wall eye. When he saw Georgie, the cob strode straight up to her, nickering his grateful thanks.
“Hey, Dooley.” Georgie gave the piebald a firm pat on his broad neck. “How’ve you been?”
Georgie stepped aside and watched as the black and white gelding shoved his muzzle deep into the bucket and began snuffling up the chaff and sugarbeet.
“He looks good, doesn’t he?” Lucinda said, joining her in the loose box to admire the horse.
Georgie nodded. “He was always one of my favourites.”
“I’ve got a couple of new horses since you were here last.” Lucinda led Georgie back out into the corridor and passed her another feed bucket. “Shamrock and Jack Sparrow. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Shamrock turned out to be a rangy chestnut Thoroughbred with bony hindquarters and deep brown eyes, while Jack Sparrow was a small, fleabitten grey pony with a wilful look about him.
“They’re both for the
