you do make it, well
done. If not, don't wallow in self-pity. Move on and do
something at which you might be better. We can't all
be champion equestrians any more than we can all be
happy brides sharing toast and marmalade with a
handsome Master of the Hunt.'
'What's she on about?' hissed Rebecca.
'Being an old maid,' Emma hissed back.
Lucinda was about to join in when a cold fist of fear
seized her heart. The cartoon she'd done was on the
back of a form in Strudworth's hand, which she was
waving around as she spoke. Lucinda had been
entirely ignorant of the fact that her drawing paper
had been a form that would be handed up. Strudworth
would kill her. Unless – she felt the tiniest glimmer of
hope – because it was on the back of the form, maybe
she wouldn't notice?
That slim hope was dashed when the girls at the
front table began pointing and laughing. Strudworth
stopped, followed the trajectory of their eyes and
found the cartoon. Her mouth tightened. Lucinda's
stomach knotted.
'Girls, get changed for bed. We have a big day
tomorrow.' Strudworth shook the form with her fist.
'Charlotte Richards, I wish to speak to you.'
Lucinda was stunned. Obviously Charlotte had
accidentally picked up the form she'd doodled on. She
wondered for a second if she should say something.
Emma read her mind and gripped her wrist.
'Don't be stupid. Charlotte's not going to make the
JOES anyway.'
Lucinda guessed she was right and she quickly left
with the others.
Charlotte assumed she had made some mistake in
filling out the form but she had no idea what that
might have been. She shuffled forward to the front of
the room.
'Yes, Miss Strudworth?'
Strudworth flashed the drawing in her face.
'Where you come from, Richards, being cruel may
be considered humorous, but at Thornton Downs
there is no place for this cruelty. I hope your horse-womanship
is better than your art. Dismissed.'
Charlotte tried to speak in her defence.
'But, Miss ...'
'I said dismissed, Richards. Six a.m. sharp, parade
ground, dressed and ready to mount.'
Charlotte turned on her heel, angry. The others had
set her up. She'd tried to be friends with them but if
they wanted war, she would oblige.
Catching them at the top of the stairs, Charlotte
ran past them, blocking their way. 'Which one of you
did that cartoon?'
Lucinda shrugged. 'I didn't mean Strudworth to
see it.'
'You do that again, you'll pay.'
Emma joined in. 'Get over it. That poor-kid,
Eminem-chip-on-the-shoulder-thing doesn't cut it
here, Charlotte.'
Lucinda piped up. 'We're privileged and proud.'
The three off them pushed off again.
'I'm not finished yet,' Charlotte called angrily, but
when she went to go after them she tripped on the
enormous satin monster she was wearing and went
sprawling onto the hard wooden floor. While she'd
had many worse tumbles from horses, the embarrassment
was dreadful. The Evil Three, as she now
thought of Lucinda, Emma and Rebecca, turned back
to her and laughed their heads off. Charlotte picked
herself up, slowly. This time she gave them plenty of
time to get away from her. She was already missing
her dad, Stormy and Rusty. Thirty days of this would
be hell.
Leila shifted uncomfortably in her stall. This straw
was the pits. If only there were cable, at least that
would help pass the time. It was like watching treacle
spill in here. Mmm, treacle! Leila smacked her lips.
What she wouldn't do for a stack of pancakes. Well,
one thing she wouldn't do is jump hurdles or prance
around like a window dresser on Melrose. She caught
the grey mare looking over at her with a superior
gleam in her eye.
'What are you looking at, Greybeard?'
The mare whinnied, 'You don't belong here.'
'For once you ain't talking drivel,' she shot back.
'You're a lazy spoiled brat. We're equestrian horses,
we're proud of what we do.' The mare turned her back
on Leila and the other horses followed her lead.
Leila shook her head. Like she cared. Her whole
childhood she'd been on her own so
done. If not, don't wallow in self-pity. Move on and do
something at which you might be better. We can't all
be champion equestrians any more than we can all be
happy brides sharing toast and marmalade with a
handsome Master of the Hunt.'
'What's she on about?' hissed Rebecca.
'Being an old maid,' Emma hissed back.
Lucinda was about to join in when a cold fist of fear
seized her heart. The cartoon she'd done was on the
back of a form in Strudworth's hand, which she was
waving around as she spoke. Lucinda had been
entirely ignorant of the fact that her drawing paper
had been a form that would be handed up. Strudworth
would kill her. Unless – she felt the tiniest glimmer of
hope – because it was on the back of the form, maybe
she wouldn't notice?
That slim hope was dashed when the girls at the
front table began pointing and laughing. Strudworth
stopped, followed the trajectory of their eyes and
found the cartoon. Her mouth tightened. Lucinda's
stomach knotted.
'Girls, get changed for bed. We have a big day
tomorrow.' Strudworth shook the form with her fist.
'Charlotte Richards, I wish to speak to you.'
Lucinda was stunned. Obviously Charlotte had
accidentally picked up the form she'd doodled on. She
wondered for a second if she should say something.
Emma read her mind and gripped her wrist.
'Don't be stupid. Charlotte's not going to make the
JOES anyway.'
Lucinda guessed she was right and she quickly left
with the others.
Charlotte assumed she had made some mistake in
filling out the form but she had no idea what that
might have been. She shuffled forward to the front of
the room.
'Yes, Miss Strudworth?'
Strudworth flashed the drawing in her face.
'Where you come from, Richards, being cruel may
be considered humorous, but at Thornton Downs
there is no place for this cruelty. I hope your horse-womanship
is better than your art. Dismissed.'
Charlotte tried to speak in her defence.
'But, Miss ...'
'I said dismissed, Richards. Six a.m. sharp, parade
ground, dressed and ready to mount.'
Charlotte turned on her heel, angry. The others had
set her up. She'd tried to be friends with them but if
they wanted war, she would oblige.
Catching them at the top of the stairs, Charlotte
ran past them, blocking their way. 'Which one of you
did that cartoon?'
Lucinda shrugged. 'I didn't mean Strudworth to
see it.'
'You do that again, you'll pay.'
Emma joined in. 'Get over it. That poor-kid,
Eminem-chip-on-the-shoulder-thing doesn't cut it
here, Charlotte.'
Lucinda piped up. 'We're privileged and proud.'
The three off them pushed off again.
'I'm not finished yet,' Charlotte called angrily, but
when she went to go after them she tripped on the
enormous satin monster she was wearing and went
sprawling onto the hard wooden floor. While she'd
had many worse tumbles from horses, the embarrassment
was dreadful. The Evil Three, as she now
thought of Lucinda, Emma and Rebecca, turned back
to her and laughed their heads off. Charlotte picked
herself up, slowly. This time she gave them plenty of
time to get away from her. She was already missing
her dad, Stormy and Rusty. Thirty days of this would
be hell.
Leila shifted uncomfortably in her stall. This straw
was the pits. If only there were cable, at least that
would help pass the time. It was like watching treacle
spill in here. Mmm, treacle! Leila smacked her lips.
What she wouldn't do for a stack of pancakes. Well,
one thing she wouldn't do is jump hurdles or prance
around like a window dresser on Melrose. She caught
the grey mare looking over at her with a superior
gleam in her eye.
'What are you looking at, Greybeard?'
The mare whinnied, 'You don't belong here.'
'For once you ain't talking drivel,' she shot back.
'You're a lazy spoiled brat. We're equestrian horses,
we're proud of what we do.' The mare turned her back
on Leila and the other horses followed her lead.
Leila shook her head. Like she cared. Her whole
childhood she'd been on her own so
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