Star Dancer (3 page)

‘But why are you scared you’ll get hurt?’ Ger said. ‘Have you ever fallen off Dancer?’

‘No. But I’m scared anyway,’ Suzanne said, sounding as puzzled as Ger was. ‘I wasn’t scared when I first got him, though. I’d never been so happy. Dancer was like a dream come true. I had pictures of horses on every wall of my room, and he was as beautiful as any of them. He was everything I’d always wanted. He never bucked me off or anything, and Anne Fitzpatrick started teaching me how to do dressage with him. Then I began having a horrible nightmare. I dream I’m jumping him over fences and I fall off. I fall and I’m really hurt. I can feel the pain. It’s awful. And I’m so scared. I’m so scared of the pain that I’m terrified to even think of jumping again.’

‘Again?’ Ger asked. ‘Did you jump fences before?’

‘I jumped on Caulie and I loved it. I wasn’t afraid at all. I’ve only had the nightmares since I’ve had Dancer, but one of the reasons I wanted him was because he knew dressage and I hoped we could do some eventing together when his leg got better.’

‘What’s eventing?’

‘Combined training events,’ Suzanne explained to Ger. ‘You know, a dressage test and then a cross-country course and then showjumping. A test of all the horse’s abilities.’ But even as she spoke, Suzanne could tell from the look on Ger’s face that he didn’t know. Perhaps he knew nothing about horses and the uncle with race horses was just a story to make the world seem a better
place for Ger.

But somehow she did believe the part about those friends who’d be expecting to see him on a horse. That really seemed to worry him.

‘When are your friends coming to see you ride, Ger?’

‘I don’t know. They’ve got to sneak in, they won’t have tickets.’

‘Did you have a ticket?’

He shrugged. ‘I snuck in. For the laugh,’ he added quickly.

Suzanne could not imagine anyone being brave enough to do such a thing. ‘Weren’t you scared of being caught?’ she asked.

‘Scared?’ Ger raised his chin and looked at her through defiant eyes. ‘I’m not scared of anything, Suzanne.’

‘
THE BAY AND THE CHESTNUT IN CLASS THREE
, then switch saddles with Tinkerbelle for class four, then …’ Brendan Walsh was muttering to himself as he carried an armful of bridles through the barn, planning the morning’s arrangements. He paid no attention to Suzanne and Ger, but Suzanne’s eyes brightened with an idea.

‘Can you groom ponies?’ she asked Ger.

‘What?’

‘Never mind. I’ll show you on Star Dancer,’ she said in a whisper. Then she called, ‘Mr Walsh! I’ve found a groom for you for this afternoon at least! He’s going to help me with Dancer first, but then he can do a couple of ponies for you after. You’ll need to give him a groom’s badge, though.’ Turning to Ger, she said in a low voice, ‘With a groom’s badge you can go in and out, you won’t have to sneak into the showgrounds any more.’

Brendan came over to the two children. ‘Who’s this, Suzanne?’ he asked, looking at Ger.

‘A friend of mine.’

‘And you say he can groom ponies?’

‘He’s going to be helping me with Dancer,’ Suzanne replied.

‘Well, all right. I could do with the help. Unless you’re like Suzanne here and have to ask permission before you so much as sneeze. Do you, lad?’

‘I don’t have to ask permission from anybody for anything,’ Ger said. ‘And me name’s Ger.’

‘Right then, Ger. A pound a pony if you do a good job and have them spotless in time for their classes.’

Suzanne was eyeing Ger’s extremely shabby clothes. ‘Don’t you pay the others a pound fifty a pony to groom for you at shows, Mr Walsh?’ she asked innocently.

Brendan tried hard not to smile. The girl had good manners, no one else ever called him Mr Walsh. And she was looking out for the lad who looked like he needed a friend. ‘A pound fifty then,’ he agreed gruffly. ‘But he’d better be worth it.’

‘I am,’ Ger boasted. ‘You never saw a better groom than me.’

Brendan didn’t seem so sure. He gave Ger one more sharp look from under the brim of the battered cap he wore. Then he walked away, carrying the bridles. A smell of saddle soap floated on the air behind him.

Ger took a deep sniff. Nice. Clean. The whole place had a good smell, somehow. Not nasty and sour like the flat where Ger lived.

‘Come on, Ger,’ Suzanne said. ‘You can help me groom Dancer first so … so I can show you how Brendan likes it done.’

Opening the box they had been sitting on, Suzanne took out her grooming gear. Metal curry comb, rubber curry comb, body brush, dandy brush, white cotton towel, sponge, mane comb, hoof pick. Ger picked up one of the brushes and waved it towards Dancer. At once the horse backed away.

‘Don’t move so suddenly,’ Suzanne advised. ‘If you want to brush him, start slowly. Like this.’

Ger did as she said. Dancer stood still this time and let Ger run the brush down his shoulder.

‘He likes it!’ Ger cried, delighted with himself.

‘Of course he does. Now … no, Ger, don’t ever use the metal
curry comb on him. It’s just for cleaning the brushes, like this. If you want to get him clean and make him shine, rub him first with the rubber curry comb, round in circles, good and hard. Then brush the way the hair lies. From the top of his neck down.’

‘He’s big,’ said Ger, stretching.

‘Not really. For a horse he’s little, only fifteen one.’

‘Thought you said he was seven.’ Ger looked puzzled.

‘Fifteen one is his height,’ Suzanne explained. ‘Fifteen hands and one inch. A hand is four inches, and height is measured from the ground to the top of a horse’s withers – that’s this bump here at the base of his neck.’

‘Oh.’ Ger liked the way Suzanne explained things. She didn’t make him feel stupid for not knowing.

He spent the morning learning to groom horses. Once he knew the purpose of each tool, they all made sense. ‘What’s this, Suzanne?’ he asked, holding up a piece of metal with a hook at one end. ‘It looks like a weapon.’

Suzanne giggled. ‘It’s a hoof pick. You use it to clean out the inside of a horse’s hoof. It picks out stones and mud.’

She bent down and tapped Dancer’s fetlock and the horse obediently lifted a hoof to be cleaned.

When it was Ger’s turn to pick out a hoof, he was clumsy at first, half afraid he might be kicked. But Dancer was kind. As the hoof pick dug into the mud packed in the horse’s hoof, it prised loose a small round stone of an unusual shade of red. Ger wiped the mud off the stone and looked at it. Then he put it in his pocket for a lucky piece. A gift from Star Dancer.

Standing on her grooming box, Suzanne plaited Dancer’s mane into a lot of tiny, firmly fastened loops. ‘This is to make him look
more elegant,’ she explained. ‘See how the plaits make his neck seem longer?’

‘I thought they were for you to hold on to so you don’t fall off,’ Ger replied. ‘But you probably don’t need to hang on. When you ride you look like you’re glued on.’

‘I do?’ Suzanne was pleased.

‘Yeah. I don’t know why you’re scared of falling off.’

‘I’m not. Most of the time. Just when I think about jumping. As long as I ride on the flat, I’m grand. But if I can’t jump as well as do dressage I can never ride in events, Ger. And I’ve always wanted to ride in events!’ she cried longingly. ‘You don’t know how much!’

Ger felt sorry for her. In spite of his boast, there were things he was afraid of. He wasn’t afraid of getting hurt, he’d done that hundreds of times. He’d fallen out of trees, down stairs, skinned his knees on broken glass, been beaten up by bigger boys. Things like that didn’t frighten him.

But he was scared of things like coming home and finding his mother lying in bed helpless, the way he did sometimes. He was afraid of coming into a cold, dirty flat, with nothing to eat and a mother who was so full of drink she hardly knew him.

That was scary. That was really scary.

The day flew by. Ger was having a great time. He didn’t think about home. He was in a place with reasons for everything and rules that made sense. And Star Dancer.

Soon Star Dancer was nudging Ger with his muzzle, just like he did to Suzanne. And Ger, with a big grin on his face, was rubbing the base of Dancer’s ears just the way the horse liked. Ger seemed to know that without even being told.

Suzanne’s father had given her money to buy sandwiches and milk for lunch, but as she told Ger, ‘Before a class I can’t eat, I get butterflies in my stomach. Do you want to eat my sandwich for me so it doesn’t go to waste?’

Ger nodded eagerly. Suzanne watched as he ate two big sandwiches and drank two cartons of milk as if he hadn’t had anything to eat in days.

Suddenly Suzanne was very glad she’d asked Brendan Walsh to give him a job.

When the time came for Suzanne to start warming up Star Dancer for their dressage test, Ger walked with her to the schooling area. He felt important, like part of a team. He wasn’t just watching any more, waiting to be thrown out. The shine on Dancer’s brown coat was the result of Ger’s brushing, and Suzanne let Ger stand at the horse’s head and keep him still while she mounted.

Ger glanced around at the other riders, with their grooms and friends and families. He wanted them all to see him – him, Ger Casey! – at the RDS, helping with a show horse. A show horse!

Then he saw them. On the other side of the schooling area, Anto and Danny, and Rags too.

They saw him at the same time and began running around the fence towards him.

High above Ger’s head, Suzanne said, ‘I wonder where Dad is? He said he’d be here to watch us.’

‘Ger! Ger!’ Anto shouted. People were turning to stare. A horse shied nervously away from the running, yelling boys.

Ger said a word Suzanne was never allowed to say. She looked down at him. His face was white with anger under his freckles.
‘Are those your friends?’ she asked.

‘Them? I don’t know ‘em.’

But they knew him. Led by Anto, they came right up to the edge of the ring, shoving people, pushing through while others glared at them. ‘Hey Ger!’ Rags cried.

‘Thought you were going to be on a horse! What’re ye doing here, picking pockets?’ He laughed as if that was very funny.

At that moment Suzanne’s father came through the crowd with Anne, the riding instructor. They ignored the yelling boys. Anne called to Suzanne, ‘Right, it’s time for you to start warming up. Begin with large circles now, that’s it, strongly forward and keep his rhythm …’ She slipped between the fence rails and joined Suzanne in the schooling area, leaving Ger with Suzanne’s father, Anto and the other boys.

For the first time Mr O’Gorman looked at Ger, who was holding a brush and white cloth stable-rag in one hand. He looked every inch the groom, though a bit small. ‘Were you helping my daughter?’ Mr O’Gorman asked.

Ger looked up. The man had the same kind eyes as Suzanne. ‘Yes sir.’

‘Sir!’ Anto elbowed Danny, Danny elbowed Rags, and they all sniggered. ‘Sir!’ they mimicked rudely.

Ger turned his back on them. ‘I was grooming Star Dancer for her,’ he told Mr O’Gorman.

‘Were you now?’ Mr O’Gorman’s lips twitched into a smile. ‘That’s good of you, thanks. Well, let’s see how she does.’ He folded his arms, rocked back on his heels, and stood watching Suzanne.

After a moment’s hesitation, Ger folded his arms and stood in
just the same way, watching too.

Star Dancer’s brown coat shone. Suzanne, in her breeches and boots, a white shirt and neat black coat and helmet, looked very neat and polished. Everything was perfect, Ger thought with satisfaction. And he had helped.

He forgot about the other boys in the pleasure of the moment.

Then Anto sidled up to him and hissed, ‘Ger, what d’ye think you’re up to? Aren’t you going to introduce us to your posh friend?’

Ger shot him an angry glance. ‘Shut up, will ye. You’ve to be quiet around horses.’

‘What d’you know about horses? I don’t see you on one. You said you was going to be riding, that’s why we’re here.’

‘How did you lot get in here, anyway?’ Ger asked.

‘Over the fence ‘way down at the corner by the bushes. We’d to wait ages ‘till no one was looking. But we made it. Now it’d better be worth it. I’m bored with all this standin’ around.’ It sounded like a threat.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mr O’Gorman was watching. If this red-haired lad was a friend of Suzanne’s – fine, but he didn’t like the look of the other lads. Aloud he said to Ger, ‘Come on, we’d better get over to the dressage ring and get a place for ourselves if we’re going to watch her test.’

He began to walk away. Gratefully, Ger fell in beside him, matching strides with the taller man. He was aware that the boys trotted along behind them at first, then fell back.

Ger felt like two people. It was a strange feeling. Part of him wanted to be sauntering along with Anto and the gang, sneering at the snobs and making fun of The Enemy. But the other part of him
was enjoying walking with Mr O’Gorman, being part of the world that included Star Dancer. Ger was in that world just for a day, and it would end when he went home. But while it lasted, he could pretend it was his own world, his own place. He could pretend that he had a father too, and a shining horse to ride, and a nice clean home to go to with a hot meal waiting.

He could pretend. He wouldn’t let his gang take that away from him.

They followed, watching. He could feel their eyes on him. And somehow he knew they would spoil it for him if they could, just for the fun of it.

‘Here’s the dressage ring,’ Mr O’Gorman said suddenly.

They stopped to look at it. It wasn’t a ring at all, Ger saw, but a neat rectangle with a smooth grassy surface. There were letters on little boards around the edges, and some people sitting in a sort of booth at the end. A man on a horse was just trotting at an angle, very fast, across the ring, and the people in the booth were watching and nodding and writing something down.

‘Let’s get a seat,’ said Mr O’Gorman. He climbed some steps to a bank of seats, and Ger followed him. He did not pay much attention to where they were. He was trying to keep his eyes on the horse in the dressage ring. It had rounded the corner at the end of the ring and slowed to a walk, then it lifted its front legs and began doing that beautiful slow gallop Star Dancer had done the day before. The one that looked like a rocking chair.

Mr O’Gorman sat down and patted the seat beside him. ‘Here, lad. What’s your name?’ he asked politely.

‘Ah, Ger. Ger, sir.’

‘Well, Ger. Do you like dressage?’

Ger started to tell a story, but he could not think of one, not with his eyes full of the beautiful horse dancing in the ring in front of him. ‘I never saw it before yesterday,’ he said honestly. ‘But I … I do like it.’

‘Like’ did not seem to be strong enough, but he didn’t know what else to say.

‘I’d rather watch showjumping myself,’ Mr O’Gorman said. ‘My wife used to be a showjumper, you know. Suzanne’s mum. She rode at White City and Dublin, all the big shows. She even knew Pat Smythe.’

‘Did she?’ Ger asked. He had never heard of White City or Pat Smythe either. More horse language.

But it could be learned. He could learn it. Already today he had learned how to use a curry comb and a hoof pick and how to put a saddle on a horse.

He settled down happily beside Suzanne’s father to wait for Star Dancer.