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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

Cover

Title Page

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

About the Publisher

Chapter One

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 school, but Jack is proving to be a bit of a handful for most of the riders,” Lucinda admitted. “He’s been getting away with murder. He raced off with Davina Pike the other day and deposited her over a fence. Not that I can say that I blame him – there are many times when I’ve wanted to do the same thing myself!”

She smiled at Georgie. “It’s so good to have you back! The horses have missed you terribly. Dooley and Billy could both do with some schooling work if you have time.”

Georgie nodded. “I’m yours for the next two weeks.” “Well I could certainly use your help,” Lucinda said. “It’s been impossible to find good grooms since you’ve been away.” Lucinda put the last feed bin in the loose box and shut the door. “So, is cross-country class going OK? I hope Tara hasn’t been too tough on you this term.”

Tara Kelly, an old school friend of Lucinda’s, was the head of the Blainford eventing department. Renowned for being the toughest teacher at the academy, Tara had been Georgie’s cross-country teacher for the past term.

When Georgie had arrived at the academy she had expected to excel in Tara’s class. After all, at the age of thirteen she was already the best junior cross-country rider in Gloucestershire. But things were different at Blainford. Thrust among elite, hand-picked equestrians from all over the world, she was facing real competition for the first time.

To make things even harder she had been forced to sell her beloved Tyro because she couldn’t afford to take him to America and pay his boarding fees. Georgie was trying to cope with a new horse, Belladonna, a talented but headstrong mare.

Struggling to click with her new mount, Georgie found herself at the bottom of the class rankings, fighting to survive the gruelling end-of-term eliminations. Tara Kelly was known for axing students from her freshman intake if they didn’t measure up to her exacting standards. Which brought Georgie to the big news that she needed to tell Lucinda.

“I’ve been dropped from Tara Kelly’s class.”

The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. Lucinda stared at her in stunned disbelief.

“Georgie! But why? I thought you said that you had Belle going really well?”

“I do… now,” Georgie groaned. “Belle has been brilliant ever since the House Showjumping, but we had lots of trouble earlier in the term and then on finals day she would have been OK except Kennedy forced me off the course on the steeplechase. I had to pull Belle up or she would have got hurt.”

It sounded so lame, like she was making excuses for her bad performance. But she wasn’t. Her expulsion from class was unfair and it had been masterminded by Blainford’s own resident evil – Kennedy Kirkwood.

“Did you tell Tara what happened?” Lucinda asked. “If this Kennedy forced you off the jump then she should be reprimanded…”

“I tried,” Georgie sighed, “but Tara didn’t see it – she had no choice. I’d been at the bottom of the rankings all term and so she eliminated me.”

“Do you want me to talk to Tara?” Lucinda offered. “I could call her and—”

Georgie shook her head. It would only make things worse.

“I know I should just get over it and take another subject, but…” Georgie took a deep breath, “… eventing class is the whole reason I wanted to go to Blainford in the first place. I know it sounds so pathetic, Lucinda, but I just don’t know what I’m going to do…”

“Oh, Georgie! Why didn’t you tell me? You poor thing.” Lucinda put her arms round Georgie once more, hugging her even tighter, as the tears that Georgie had been fighting to hold back finally began to flow.

*

Two weeks in Little Brampton was just what Georgie needed to recover from that last dreadful term at Blainford. Even if not all of her friends were as understanding as Lucinda.

“It sounds awful at your stupid boarding school – getting dumped from cross-country class! I don’t understand why you want to go back!”

Georgie’s best friend Lily had never been one to hide her feelings. She’d been outright miserable when Georgie had decided to leave Little Brampton and now that she saw her chance to convince Georgie to turn her back on Blainford she wasn’t going to leave it alone.

“You always say that cross-country is the most important bit of eventing,” Lily said, “so you might as well chuck the whole business!”

“It’s not that simple,” Georgie insisted. “Lucinda says I shouldn’t give up. I should try to convince Tara to let me back into her class.”

“How are you going to do that?”

Georgie shook her head. “I don’t know yet. And I’ve got to choose a new subject to take in the meantime. I think I’ll do dressage…”

“I don’t understand dressage,” Lily sighed. “I mean, it’s just riding around in circles, isn’t it? It’s like ‘Look, everyone, I’ve got a horse!’”

Georgie groaned. It was impossible trying to explain riding to Lily. She was simply not horsey. Right now she was on her bike, cycling alongside Georgie who was riding Toffee, one of the horses from Lucinda’s stables. Georgie had tried to convince Lily to ride one of the other ponies, but Lily wasn’t having any of it.

“I’ll stick with my bike, thanks – at least it doesn’t bolt off or try to buck,” she said firmly, strapping on her cycle helmet.

The two girls rode through the village, heading towards the shops with five pounds to spend on fish and chips.

“We’ll get loads for a fiver,” Lily said confidently. “Nigel is working today.”

“Look at you! You’ve sold your love to Nigel for a piece of battered cod,” Georgie teased.

Nigel Potts’s parents owned the fish and chip shop, and he was constantly harassing Lily to go out with him. It seemed that his persistence had finally paid off.

“I’m not actually going out with him or anything!” Lily insisted as she cycled on. “It was just the one date. He took me to the cinema and he ponged so badly of fish and chips it was like sitting next to a deep-fat fryer.”

Lily sighed. “It’s hardly glamorous, is it? Not like you and your handsome polo player whisking you off for a romantic weekend in the country.”

“… a romantic weekend in which he dumped me with his hideous sister, and then ran off to snog her best friend!” Georgie clarified.

Her relationship with James Kirkwood had ended super-badly – even if he and Georgie had made peace at the School Formal at the end of term.

“Well, what about Riley?” Lily asked. “You’re going out with him now, right?”

“I don’t know,” Georgie groaned. “He turns up at the School Formal, and everything is great, but then he does a total disappearing act on me.”

That night at the School Formal when Riley had taken Georgie in his arms and assured her that they would find a way to convince Tara to take her back, she had felt so safe, certain that somehow everything would be OK again. Georgie wasn’t going to let Kennedy steal her future. She would fight her way back into the cross-country class.

But that confidence had begun to ebb away. Waking up in the cold light of day the next morning she realised she had no idea how to persuade Tara to reinstate her in the cross-country class. And Riley never called.

“But you’ll see him when you get back to school?” Lily said.

Georgie shook her head. “He doesn’t go to Blainford. He thinks the academy is full of rich snobs.”

“So let me get this straight,” Lily said, peddling harder so that Georgie had to push Toffee into a trot to keep up. “You’ve been dumped by two boys and one teacher and you’re still going back? Geez, Georgie! What’s it going to take to convince you to come home?”

*

Nigel was behind the till when the two girls arrived at the Fish Pott.

“All right then, Georgie?” Nigel greeted her. “Back from your la-di-dah school for the holidays?”

“Ignore him,” Lily said, looking pointedly at Nigel. “He got dipped in batter as a child and he’s never been the same since.”

Nigel smiled at her. “Have you come in to make an order, Lily, or have you just come in to see me?”

“Not likely!” Lily snorted. “We’ll have two fishburgers and chips, thanks.”

The burgers and chips were warm tucked beneath Georgie’s vest to keep them safe for the ride home.

“Is that what everyone thinks about me?” Georgie asked Lily as she mounted up again on Toffee. “That I’m some stuck-up posh girl now, just because I go to Blainford?”

“Don’t listen to Nigel. He’s just jealous because the furthest he’s ever been in his life is Tewkesbury for the late-night shopping.”

Lily sighed. “I wish you were coming home for good, though, Georgie. I really miss you.”

Georgie felt a lump sticking in her throat. It was so weird being back in Little Brampton again. Her dad had been beside himself with delight and Georgie noticed that he made sure he was home early every night. On Christmas Day he’d even cooked a massive Christmas dinner and invited Lily and Lucinda over.

Lucinda had been really kind too, encouraging Georgie to try out every single horse in the stables. Georgie had great new friends at Blainford, like Alice and Emily and Daisy, but she and Lily had known each other forever.

However, even though the past term at Blainford had been tough, Georgie was dying to get back on the plane to Lexington. She loved Little Brampton – but this wasn’t where she wanted to be. Blainford had given her a glimpse of the future and the rider that she could become. She was determined to become an international eventer like her mother, to travel the world and live a life full of excitement, glamour and horses – lots of horses.

“I have to go back,” she told Lily. “It’s not over yet.”

Chapter Two

It had been a white Christmas in Kentucky and when the students arrived back at Blainford Academy they found the entire school grounds covered in a deep blanket of snow.

“If we can’t actually see the quad, does that mean we’re allowed to walk on it?” Alice wondered as the girls headed to the dining hall. “Technically we wouldn’t be touching the grass.”

Blainford was a college steeped in traditions – and the square of turf in the middle of the school was deemed hallowed ground. Only prefects and schoolmasters were allowed to walk across the grass, as Georgie had found out the hard way on her first day at the academy.

Conrad Miller had caught her on the grass and given her Fatigues – a Blainford punishment that was a cross between detention and hard labour.

Conrad was the head prefect of Burghley House. There were six boarding houses at the academy, three for girls and three for boys. Each of them was named after one of the six famous four-star eventing courses in the world.

Georgie and her friends Alice Dupree, Daisy King and Emily Tait were all boarders in Badminton House. Kennedy Kirkwood, Arden Mortimer and their toxic clique of showjumperettes were in Adelaide House. Kennedy’s brother, James, was in Burghley House with the vile Conrad. Georgie’s eventing friends Cameron and Alex were in Luhmuhlen.

The third girls’ boarding house was Stars of Pau and many of its occupants belonged to the dressage clique. Unlike other schools where jocks and geeks ruled the cliques, at Blainford the social scene was defined by what kind of rider you were and dressage placed you firmly at the bottom of the coolness order.

The polo boys and the showjumperettes – rich, spoilt and good-looking – considered themselves to be at the top. The eventing clique wasn’t as flashy or glamorous as the showjumpers and polo players, but eventers still had an aura of undeniable cool about them. After all, to ride cross-country you needed nerves of steel and unshakable courage.

The first-year eventers came from all points of the globe, and although they were very different from each other, the riders had quickly formed a tight-knit bond. Their group included Georgie Parker, and her best friend Alice Dupree, a native of Maryland, and the third sister in her family to attend the college. Georgie’s friend Cameron Fraser was an eventing rider from Coldstream in the Scottish Border country. Then there was Emily Tait, a shy New Zealand girl who rode a school horse, a jet-black Thoroughbred called Barclay. Naïve and slightly nervous on the ground, Emily was a rock in the saddle and had won top placing in the mid-term exam.

Daisy King had been the only rider that Georgie actually knew before she arrived. Back in England, Daisy had been Georgie’s stiffest competition on the eventing circuit. Unlike Georgie, Daisy could afford to board her own horse at Blainford. She had travelled her big, grey Irish Hunter, Village Voice, all the way from the UK.

Apart from Cameron Fraser, the other eventing boys included Shanghai-born and Oxford-raised Alex Chang and his grey gelding Tatou; over-confident Australian riding phenomenon Matt Garrett with his stunning dun gelding Tigerland; and the arrogant but extremely talented French rider, Nicholas Laurent and his horse Lagerfeld.

The eventing riders gathered together at their usual table in the dining hall for the first lunch of the new term. They were close friends, but also rivals, each of them striving to come top in the class. Class rankings were considered important in every subject, but in Tara’s class they were especially crucial. Cross-country was the only class where the bottom-ranked pupil was routinely eliminated at the end of every half term.

Tara Kelly justified eliminations because of the very real danger involved with riding cross-country. If a student wasn’t making the grade in her first-year class then she needed to be eliminated before getting hurt – or worse.

As they sat down to eat lunch, Emily, Cameron and Daisy were vigorously debating the new school rule that made air-tech inflatable jackets compulsory at all times on the cross-country course. At the other end of the table, Nicholas, who had just returned from Bordeaux, was raving to Matt Garrett about his brand-new Butet, a French close-contact saddle made from tan calfskin leather, insisting that it gave him superior lower leg contact.

Georgie, meanwhile, sat and picked listlessly at her lasagne. She looked up at the clock. It was almost time for the afternoon riding classes to begin. In a moment they would all be heading for the stables to tack up for their first cross-country ride of the new year. But Georgie wouldn’t be joining them.

“So, you still haven’t told me,” Alice said, leaning forward conspiratorially across the table to her, “what option class are you taking now?”

The rest of the table suddenly went quiet. It was the question that they’d all been dying to ask Georgie, but none of them had been brave enough to broach the subject.

Georgie didn’t have to answer because at that moment Mitty Janssen came over to join them.

Mitty was a dedicated dressage rider who had aced the Netherlands auditions. Her two best friends, Isabel Weiss and Spanish rider Reina Romero were also dressage fanatics and boarders in Stars of Pau. All three girls were swotty and serious and known throughout the school as the ‘Dressage Set’.

“Hi, Georgie,” Mitty said.

“Oh, hey, Mitty, how are you?”

“So,” Mitty smiled, “I heard the news that you’re joining us! Do you need to borrow a pair of Carl Hester training reins? They’re compulsory for first years—”

“Uh, thanks, Mitty,” Georgie said, cutting her off. “I already bought some.”

“OK,” Mitty said cheerfully. “Well, I’ll see you in class!”

“Yeah,” Georgie muttered. She didn’t look up from her lunch. She could feel the eyes of the rest of the eventing clique staring at her with horror. Georgie Parker had joined the dressage class!

*

“You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about,” Alice insisted as the girls walked towards the stables. “I mean, dressage is an important part of eventing. It’s one of the three phases. So of course it makes sense to join the dressage class!”

“Do you really think so?” Georgie was relieved, “I thought you’d think it was—”

“Wussy?” Cameron offered.

“Totally lame?” Daisy suggested.

The eventers snorted and giggled.

“Yeah, great, guys, thanks for that. I knew I could rely on your support…” Georgie groaned. “Look, what else am I supposed to do? Dressage is something I need to learn, and besides, it fits the options timetable.”

“It’s a good choice,” Emily said, trying to be supportive. “I mean, really we should all be taking dressage as an option. You live and die by your dressage points these days. Eventing’s not just about showjumping and cross-country any more.”

“Hey,” Georgie said, “if you wanted to drop cross-country and join dressage too, I know that there’re still a couple of spaces…”

“Are you kidding?” Emily was horrified. “Trotting in circles like a nana? I’d be bored to tears!”

Georgie knew what she meant. An eventing rider lived for the thrill of galloping across country, tackling any obstacle that presented itself. After the wild, reckless excitement of Tara’s class, she was well aware that Bettina Schmidt’s dressage lessons would be rather… sedate. Even so, she had to stay positive.

“Bettina is a great dressage teacher,” she told the others. “It’s going to be cool.”

*

“For our lesson today,” Bettina Schmidt said, “we will be spending the entire hour and a half at the walk to focus on our lower leg position.”

“Strangle me with a martingale and put me out of my misery,” Georgie groaned. Beneath her, Belladonna shifted about restlessly. The bay mare had just spent the past two weeks being spelled for the school holidays and this was their first ride together. What Belle really needed was a decent canter to blow out the cobwebs. Instead, they were going to spend their whole lesson at the walk!

Georgie joined the back of the ride and resigned herself to her fate, but Belle wasn’t so biddable. As the other dressage horses began to circle the arena, walking politely on the bit, their necks arched and their strides neat and regular, Belle began skipping about with frustration.

Despite Georgie’s best efforts to calm her, the mare kept racing past the others and spent the first half of the lesson in a constant jiggly-jog.

When she finally got the mare to walk on and could concentrate on what Bettina was saying, Georgie realised that she didn’t actually understand most of Bettina’s instructions anyway.

“Ride from the hindquarters!” Bettina kept telling her. “Now try to feel each stride. Volte! Stay off the forehand!”

For all Georgie knew a volte might be a handstand! As it turned out, it was just a little circle. They spent the lesson doing endless little circles at the walk, and then bigger ones, also at the walk.

It was all so precise, so detailed and so… very, very boring.

“That was a brilliant lesson!” Isabel Weiss’s eyes were bright with enthusiasm as they led the horses back to the stables after class. “I really noticed how deep my seat was by the end of the session, didn’t you, Georgie?”

“Uh-huh,” Georgie agreed, stifling a yawn. “Do you want to come back to Stars of Pau with us after we unsaddle?” Mitty offered. “We’ve got a DVD that shows you how to do a piaffe in ten easy steps. We were going to watch it before dinner.”

“Umm, maybe some other time,” Georgie said. “I’ll catch you guys later, OK?”

It was a relief to be alone again in the loose box with Belle. As Georgie unsaddled the mare she was surprised to see that she wasn’t even sweating under her numnah. Mind you, Georgie thought, why would Belle break a sweat when she had only been dawdling around for the past hour and a half?

Georgie looked at her watch. It was quarter to five. It would be dark by five-thirty; she should really be untacking and heading back to the house. But she felt as if she hadn’t really had a proper ride.

“Come on, Belle,” she murmured to the mare, flinging the saddle over her back again and tightening the girth once more. “Let’s go – just you and me.”

*

Snow had begun falling as Georgie set out along the bridle path at the back of the stables. She watched the white flakes floating down from the sky, landing on Belle’s jet-black mane. Georgie usually kept it neatly pulled so that it was short and tidy for plaiting, but over the holidays it had grown lustrous and long. Belle’s hunter clip was growing out too. It had been almost a term since Georgie clipped her in grooming class.

Georgie’s own hair was braided in two thick, blonde plaits and as she put on her helmet to leave the stables she came up with the genius idea of twisting her plaits and shoving the ends through the ear-hole sections at the sides of her helmet so her hair would cover and protect her ears from the cold. It looked a bit weird with her plaits poking out from her helmet at odd angles, but Georgie figured that no one was going to see her.

She rode past the snug indoor arena where they had spent their dressage lesson. It felt good to be outdoors, to feel the icy bite of the winter chill against her bare cheeks.

As soon as they were clear of the stables and had passed through the gateway where the bridle path led to the open fields, Georgie urged Belle into a trot. The mare had lovely, floaty paces and she lifted up beneath Georgie like a hovercraft, arching her neck and taking the reins forward. She snorted and pulled, keen to canter.

“Steady, girl,” Georgie cautioned the mare. The track was twisty and turny, and the ice had made the surface slippery – not ideal for canter work. Georgie decided to turn off the track, riding the mare across the open pasture towards an uphill stretch that led to the woods. As soon as they reached the hill Georgie tipped up into two-point position, put her legs on and Belle responded eagerly, her legs working like dark pistons making holes in the white snow.

Belle knew the terrain here well and, even though it was covered in snow, Georgie trusted the mare to be sure-footed as they cantered on. It felt so good to have some fun instead of walking around getting in touch with your seatbones!

As they crested the top of the hill, Georgie pulled Belle back to a trot as she saw the rider up ahead of her. At a distance all that Georgie could make out was the colour of the horse – a chestnut – and the rider’s jersey – ice blue, the colour of Burghley House. Knowing her luck it would be Conrad Miller, and he would find some pathetic school rule about not being allowed out in the snow and give her Fatigues.

She had just decided to turn round and give them a wide berth, when the rider on the chestnut horse waved to her.

Georgie steadied Belle and peered at the horizon. The rider on the chestnut waved once more and then urged his horse on into a canter, coming up the hill from the other side towards her. Georgie watched the way he rode, completely fearless, relying on his perfect balance to control the horse, with reins held so long they were almost at the buckle. And then she realised that she knew him.

It was James Kirkwood.

James cantered right up to her and pulled his horse to a halt. “Hi, Parker. Have a good holiday?”

Suddenly face to face with him, Georgie’s first thought was her hair. The hair earmuff trick had worked – her ears were nice and toasty. But she knew that she must look ridiculous, like some sort of demented Pippi Longstocking. And here she was for the first time with the boy who had dumped her last term.

“My holidays?” Georgie said, self-consciously trying to flatten her sticky-outy plaits. “OK, I guess.”

James grinned. “Don’t give me too much detail, will you? We might end up having a conversation.”

Georgie wanted more than anything to pull her helmet off and fix the plaits, but she was certain she would have helmet-hair underneath. Luckily James didn’t seem to have noticed the weird hairdo.

“I went back home to Little Brampton,” she said. “Dad cooked a massive Christmas dinner and everyone came over. Apart from that I was at Lucinda’s helping out at the stables. How about you?”

“The usual Kirkwood family Christmas,” James groaned. “The stepmom spent the whole time planning cocktail parties for people that she doesn’t even like. Dad disappeared with the hounds every day and Kennedy and I managed to stay in different wings of the house most of the time so we could avoid speaking to each other.”