Star Dancer

by Morgan Llywelyn

  Suzanne hated being afraid. She thought of Ger Casey who had said he wasn’t afraid of anything.

  On Friday afternoon a brilliant sun was shining and the soft, warm wind smelled like hay and flowers. Suzanne felt so good she thought she would burst out of her skin. Fear had no place on such a day, she told herself.

  She was riding Dancer in the large grassy meadow beyond the yard. A level area was set aside there for dressage practice, but there was also a series of low timber fences, little more than logs on the ground. The smallest ponies could jump them.

  Suzanne kept looking over at them. ‘What do you think?’ she said to Dancer. ‘We could just canter over there and pop over one. Want to?’

  Dancer swivelled one ear back towards her.

  ‘I’d really like to jump today,’ Suzanne told him, making her voice sound strong and confident. A horse mustn’t know his rider was afraid, or he might be afraid too. Anne had told Suzanne that lots of times.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Suzanne said to Dancer, tightening her legs against his sides and turning him towards the nearest jump.

  7 – No Jumping, No Eventing

  AS DANCER CANTERED TOWARDS THE JUMP, Suzanne pretended she was riding in her first combined training event. They were approaching the first fence of the cross-country and … and … suddenly her heart began to race. A picture flashed through her mind. Dancer was jumping but something had gone wrong and she had lost her balance, she was falling … she was falling … Pain! Terrible pain!

  They were only one stride from the jump when Suzanne lost her nerve and pulled back with all her strength on the reins. Dancer felt an agonising jab in his mouth. He slid to a stop with his chest almost touching the fence in front of him.

  Suzanne wanted to cry. ‘Oh Dancer, I’m sorry! What if I’ve just taught you to stop at fences instead of jumping them? What if I’ve ruined you for eventing?’ She felt awful.

  She knew what Anne would make her do if she were there. She would make Suzanne ride Dancer in a circle and come at the fence again, and take it this time, no matter what.

  But Suzanne couldn’t make herself do it. She tried, but then her mouth went dry and her hands got cold and she could feel sweat pouring down her face below her safety helmet. She had to give up.

  The day was ruined. She didn’t even bother practising dressage any more. Why should she? What good was dressage going to do them if they couldn’t jump? No jumping, no eventing.

  That night Suzanne did not want to eat her dinner. She pushed her plate away still piled with fish fingers and chips, her old favourites. ‘What’s the matter?’ her mother asked.

  ‘I’m all right. I’m just not hungry.’

  Suzanne’s mother leaned forward to look at her. ‘Are you sick? Are you running a fever?’ She stood up and came around the table to put her hand on her daughter’s forehead. ‘Well, you don’t seem to have a temperature,’ she said with relief. ‘But it’s not like you to push your plate away, Suzanne. Is something wrong with the fish?’

  ‘It’s grand, really. I’m just … I …’ Suddenly Suzanne felt her throat closing and tears burning in her eyes. She bowed her head so her parents wouldn’t see, and got up from the table. ‘S’cuse me,’ she murmured. She fled from the room.

  Suzanne’s parents looked at each other in surprise. ‘Now what’s the matter with her?’ Mr O’Gorman asked his wife.

  ‘Growing pains, maybe. Young girls are up one minute, down the next. I remember myself at her age.’

  ‘Could it have something to do with Dancer? She rode this afternoon, didn’t she?’

  Suzanne’s mother nodded. ‘She did. Maybe she’s getting tired of the horse. I wouldn’t mind if she got interested in something else. Every time she goes out the door …’

  ‘Look, Phyllis, we’ve talked about this before,’ Mr O’Gorman told his wife. ‘Suzanne loves that horse. We’ve no right to ruin it for her just because …’

  ‘I know,’ his wife said with a sigh. ‘I know.’

  She began clearing away Suzanne’s plate and glass of milk. ‘She might want these later. I’ll put them aside and take them to her in an hour or so.’

  In her bedroom, Suzanne sat on the edge of her bed, holding a photo of Star Dancer in her hand. It had been taken the day her father told her the horse was really hers. In the picture she was sitting on Dancer with a big smile on her face.

  Looking at it, Suzanne remembered Ger’s words. ‘You look like you’re glued on,’ he’d told her.

  I can ride, Suzanne thought to herself. I really can. So why am I afraid? Why is it ruining everything?

  Tomorrow I’ll try again. I really will. I’ll jump a fence with Dancer and I’ll be all right. I’ll be grand. She said the words over and over to herself, as if that would make them come true.

  The next day was Saturday. When Suzanne got to the stables she saw to her surprise that Ger Casey was there! He was busily sweeping the stableyard. He looked up and grinned at her. ‘Hi, Suzanne O!’

  ‘Ger! What are you doing here?’

  ‘Brendan Walsh offered me a job, remember? This summer? Then I thought, what am I waiting for? I can work on weekends now, and here I am.’ He didn’t add that he had asked Brendan if he could work weekdays as well. But the head groom had told him sternly, ‘Of course not, son. School comes first.’

  Ger wouldn’t have minded missing school. But Brendan seemed firm about it.

  Suzanne was delighted to see him again. So, Ger said, was Dancer. ‘I went to his box first, Suzanne O, and I’ll swear he knew me. He bumped me with his nose, y’know.’

  ‘Of course he knew you. Horses have really good memories. And I think it’s great you’re going to be working here on the weekends. Will someone drive you out and collect you?’

  ‘Well,’ Ger began boastfully. ‘My brother Donal has a new BMW and he … I mean …’ Beyond Suzanne, Ger could see Star Dancer in his box, watching the two of them with his ears pricked. ‘I took the bus this morning,’ Ger said in a different tone of voice. ‘Two buses – I had to change.’

  Suzanne had never taken a bus all the way across the city by herself. She looked impressed.

  Ger went back to his stable work and Suzanne groomed Dancer and saddled him. But when she led him out of his box, Ger appeared out of nowhere to hold the horse still while she got on. He stroked Dancer’s neck and rubbed the base of his ears. Dancer stood with his head low, eyes half-closed in pleasure, and did not seem to notice Suzanne, even when she sat down in the saddle.

  ‘We’re friends, me and Dancer,’ Ger said happily.

  Suzanne felt a sudden twinge of jealousy. Dancer was her friend.

  She rode over to the meadow with the jumps again. Halting Dancer some distance away from them, she sat and looked at them for a long time. She tried to remember when she had jumped Cauliflower over fences every bit as big and hadn’t been afraid.

  But Caulie was a fat little pony. Dancer was a horse. If she fell off, she’d have a lot further to fall.

  Is that why I’m scared? Suzanne wondered.

  She didn’t think so. It didn’t feel like the reason. Something else frightened her when she looked at the jumps, something cold and hard that sat like a rock in her tummy.

  ‘We should jump those today, Dancer,’ she told her horse. ‘So that you forget all about yesterday when I made you stop.’

  But Dancer heard the fear in her voice. He knew she was not going to ride him towards the jumps. He stood quietly, waiting, until at last Suzanne sighed and turned him towards the dressage area instead.

  Soon they were concentrating on straight lines and perfectly round circles, on extending and collecting, on shoulder-in and rein back and counter canter, and Suzanne forgot – almost – about the jumps waiting in the distance.

  Suzanne had almost finished her ride when she noticed Ger coming towards her across the daisy-starred grass of the meadow. ‘I’m on me lunch,’ he called out. ‘Can I come an’ watch you?’

  Suzanne was pl
eased. Just for Ger, she gave Dancer the command for canter and then rode him in two pirouettes, small circles like waltz turns. It was something Dancer did really well, and she knew what a beautiful picture he made by the way Ger’s eyes were shining. She halted in front of the boy.

  ‘How long did it take you to teach him that?’ Ger asked.

  Suzanne laughed. ‘I didn’t teach him. He was already schooled when I got him. He’s teaching me.’

  ‘The horse is teaching you? Go ‘way out of that!’ Ger said in disbelief.

  ‘Honestly, he is. That’s the best way to learn dressage, by riding a schooled horse so you know how it’s supposed to feel.’

  Ger said eagerly, ‘Then Star Dancer could teach me to do all that fancy stuff too, couldn’t he?’

  Suzanne felt the twinge of jealousy again. ‘I don’t know,’ she said coolly. ‘You’d have to be able to ride really well first, you don’t just start with dressage.’

  ‘I can ride really well. I can … my uncle …’ Ger paused. Star Dancer was looking at him. ‘How long would it take me to learn to ride good enough to start doing the fancy stuff?’

  ‘Have you ever ridden at all?’

  ‘Of course I … well … no.’ At first the words were hard to say, but as Ger went on it got easier. He didn’t have to think about every word and try to remember what he’d told her before. The truth was simple. ‘The day you let me sit on Dancer was the only time I’ve ever been on a horse,’ he told Suzanne.

  She realised then that the boy had fought a battle with himself, and won. She had to smile. ‘Let’s ask Mr Walsh if you can learn to ride on one of the ponies as part of your pay,’ she suggested.

  ‘And then I can ride Dancer?’

  Suzanne fought a swift, silent battle with herself. ‘Yes,’ she said finally. ‘Then you can ride Dancer.’

  When the children returned to the stables, they found Brendan Walsh in the tackroom. The tackroom was already one of Ger’s favourite places. The saddles hung on their racks in neat rows, with each horse’s name on its own saddle rack, and its own bridle hanging beside. All the reins were neatly looped, all the throatlash straps fastened in a figure of eight.

  Bits and stirrup irons gleamed like silver, and the air was fragrant with the clean smell of saddle soap. Everything was spotless and orderly and in place.

  When Brendan Walsh heard Suzanne’s proposal, he pretended to hesitate. He liked to tease her, just a little. ‘Well, I don’t know,’ he drawled, pushing back the cap he always wore so he could scratch his balding head. ‘I don’t know now. Pony rides instead of pay?’

  ‘As well as pay, Mr Walsh,’ Suzanne said firmly. She knew when Brendan was teasing her.

  He smiled. ‘I s’pose we could manage it, all right. At the end of your workday, mind,’ he said to Ger. ‘If you’ve got all your work done properly, then you can ride Hallmark, he’s one of the bigger ponies. Just about fit you. But you’ll have to teach him yourself, Suzanne, I can’t throw in free lessons with Anne too.’

  ‘I’ll teach him,’ Suzanne promised.

  On that weekend in late spring, Ger Casey’s life was changed forever.

  By the time he got on the bus to go home on Saturday night, his head was swimming from Suzanne’s instructions. Sitting on the bus seat he imagined he could still feel Hallmark under him, and he sat with a faraway expression on his face, moving his fingers as if they still held the reins.

  The next day was Sunday, and the buses did not run as often, so Ger got to the stables late. Brendan looked angry. ‘You said you’d be here by nine o’clock,’ he pointed out.

  ‘Well, what difference does it make?’ Ger wanted to know.

  ‘Horses are a big responsibility, Ger. So’s a job. If you aren’t serious, you’ve no place here.’

  Ger began to make a smart remark. Then he stopped himself. ‘I swear I won’t be late again,’ he said abruptly, reaching for the nearest pitchfork to begin the day’s work.

  He had discovered this morning when he got up that it was hard to walk. After yesterday’s riding lesson, he could barely bring his knees together. The long bus ride across the city, and the walk up the road from the bus stop to the stables had helped, but he was still sore.

  He didn’t mind, though. It felt good in a funny way. It told him he’d really done something. And as the morning passed and he mucked out loose boxes and scrubbed water buckets, the soreness completely disappeared.

  He saved the newest, cleanest water bucket for Star Dancer. In the tackroom, he happened to notice a tattered horse magazine. There was an article in it about eventing and another article about dressage itself. Ger looked at the pictures of eventing first and read the captions. Suzanne was right, it was a real test of a horse. Some events were three-day and others were just one-day, but they all had dressage and cross-country and showjumping, and there were some amazing photos of horses leaping into ponds or galloping up steep banks.

  But it was the dressage article that held Ger’s interest. It had photographs of horses that looked like Star Dancer, and straight, proud riders who looked like kings and queens. Even in the still pictures there was a beauty that made Ger’s breath catch in his throat.

  Still, Suzanne preferred eventing, she’d said. So how was she going to do that if she was scared to jump?

  ‘It must be hard to give up something you really want,’ Ger said to Dancer as he was mucking out the horse’s loose box. Suzanne hadn’t yet arrived. Sunday, thought Ger. She probably has dinner with her parents on Sunday, sitting at some big fancy table with a load of silver on it. Being a family.

  ‘I never had anything to give up,’ he remarked to Dancer. The horse heard the bitterness in the boy’s voice. He took a step closer to Ger, and blew softly through his nostrils.

  ‘You understand, don’t you?’ Ger asked.

  Star Dancer looked at him. Suddenly it seemed very quiet in the stable, as if just the two of them were there. Dust motes drifted on the air. Star Dancer pressed his head against Ger’s shoulder trustingly.

  With a quick look around to make sure no one was watching, Ger put one arm around the horse’s neck. ‘I’m not going to give you up ever!’ he whispered fiercely.

  8 – The Magic Stone

  GER MADE FAST PROGRESS with his riding lessons. When the summer holidays arrived, Anne told Brendan, ‘That new stable boy should be riding horses, he’s ready to move on from ponies. Let’s try him on one of the retired hunters down in the paddock.’

  Ger was delighted. Horses were not like ponies. They were taller and had longer, smoother strides. But there was no other horse like Star Dancer. No matter what animal he rode, in his heart Ger was always mounted on Dancer.

  On the bus going to and from the stables, he would stare out the window and imagine himself as a great general, riding Dancer at the head of a mighty army. He would dream of making Dancer do all those fancy steps that avoided the swords and cannon balls of the enemy. He could almost feel the horse under him, dancing.

  One morning he got to the stables to find Suzanne slumped on a bale of hay, looking miserable. In her hand was a folded sheet of green paper.

  ‘What’s wrong with you, Suzanne O? Are you sick?’

  ‘I wish I was. Then I’d have an excuse. Look at this. Anne just gave it to me to fill out. It’s an entry form for me and Dancer for the junior one-day event in August.’

  ‘So? I thought you wanted to ride in events. Do you just want to do three-days?’

  ‘It isn’t that. A one-day is much easier, it’s the best way to begin and Dancer can do the dressage part easily. But I’ll have to jump him over fences, Ger. I’ll have to jump! And I just can’t!’

  ‘’Course you can.’

  Suzanne shook her head. ‘I can’t. I had that awful dream again last night. If I try to jump Star Dancer I’ll be hurt, I know it.’

  ‘But you used to jump fences on your pony,’ Ger reminded her.

  ‘That was before I started having the dream, though. Now jus
t thinking about jumping makes me so scared I can hardly breathe. How can I tell Anne? Oh Ger, what am I going to do? I wish I was brave like you. You aren’t scared of anything.’

  ‘Ah stop it,’ Ger mumbled, embarrassed. ‘Well …’ He dug his fists into the pockets of his jeans and scuffed the ground with his toe. Then his hand touched something in the bottom of his pocket. And suddenly he had an idea.

  He dug out the little red stone he had taken from Dancer’s hoof at the RDS. He had been carrying it ever since. Now he showed it to Suzanne.

  ‘D’you see this?’

  ‘That old lump of stone? What about it?’

  ‘It’s not any old stone,’ Ger said. ‘It’s a … a magic stone. Real magic.’

  Suzanne looked from the stone to Ger’s face. ‘Come off it!’

  ‘No, really, I swear! This stone is magic, it’s the reason I’m not scared of anything,’ the boy went on, making it up as he went along. To make the story more convincing, he dropped his voice to a whisper and glanced around the stableyard, as if afraid someone might overhear them. ‘Let’s go in Dancer’s loose box,’ he suggested. ‘It’s a big secret. I’ve never told anyone before.’

  Curious, Suzanne followed him into the horse’s box. Star Dancer moved to one side to make room for them. He liked having the children beside him. He quietly lipped the bottom of his feed tub, looking for a last few crumbs of breakfast.

  ‘What’s the secret, Ger?’ Suzanne demanded to know.

  ‘This stone, like I said, it’s really valuable because it’s magic. My old fella, my da, carried it with him all through the war, all through the bullets and all, and he was never hurt. Not once, not the littlest bit. The stone protected him, see. That’s its magic. It keeps the person who carries it safe.’

  ‘So how come you have it now?’

  ‘My da gave it to me, you see, to keep me safe when he, ah, went away. On a secret mission!’ Ger added boastfully. ‘But it works, Suzanne O. Ever since he gave me the stone I’ve never been hurt, not even a scratch. Even in fights, or when I fell out of a tree.’