Charlotte and the Starlet

by Dave Warner

  'Charlotte,' replied Charlotte firmly.

  'Just checking,' laughed Hatcher. 'Can you tell me what triggered this episode?'

  He smirked at his clever pun. 'Trigger' was, of course, one of the most famous horses in the movies.

  Charlotte was in a quandary. She didn't want to tell Mr Hatcher the truth because he would almost certainly not believe her, but her father and mother had said you must always tell the truth. So she told Mr Hatcher how she had asked Leila to help Charlie win a place in the JOES, and Leila had refused, saying she wouldn't because she was a famous Hollywood actor.

  On his pad Hatcher scribbled 'delusions of grandeur'.

  'And did Leila ever say why she wouldn't talk to anybody else?'

  'Yes. She said she didn't want hypodermics jabbed into her butt and electrodes in her brain.'

  Hatcher managed a forced laugh. 'Our profession doesn't do that any more.' He looked down at his notes again. 'I see your mother died four years ago?'

  Charlotte nodded.

  'How did you feel about that? Did you shut yourself away from the world?'

  'No. I was sad but Dad said we had to go on, because that's what Mum wanted.'

  Hatcher thought he saw it all now.

  'And that was when you first met Leila, right?'

  Charlotte shook her head. 'No, I told you, I only met her here.'

  Leila looked at the oats once more, hoping if she stared at them long enough they would turn into a Big Mac with fries. Nope. No matter how long she stared, it made no difference. Well, she couldn't wait any longer, she would have to find a phone and call Mr Gold.

  Getting out of the stable was easy. But now she had the problem of sneaking across the open lawn to the big building where the phones would be. She looked left and right – the coast was clear. She trotted across the lawn and pushed open a fly-screen door. So far so good. She made her way into a big room that looked like an office of some sort. Good, a phone was on the desk. Even better, it was covered in stickers with numbers for Emergency and so on. One said 'International Operator'. Leila knocked the receiver off with her nose, picked up a pen in her teeth and used it to touch dial the number. A woman's voice answered.

  'Country, please?'

  'USA. I'm looking for a Mr Joel Gold of Hollywood, California.'

  The woman asked Leila to hold a moment. Then she came back on.

  'I'm sorry, that number is private. I can't give it out.'

  Can't give it out!!!

  'Listen, sister, do you have any idea who you're talking to –'

  Clunk. She'd hung up on her! The nerve. Leila thought hard. Whose number did she know that she could call to pass a message onto Joel? Of course. Her best friend, Hilary. Her number was easy to remember because it was the same as Leila's birthday with a five on the end. Leila dialled. The phone rang a few times and then picked up. Leila nearly screamed with excitement. She could just imagine Hilary sitting poolside.

  'Hilary here.'

  Oh. Now Leila saw the problem. Hilary didn't actually know Leila could talk, even though they'd hung out together heaps.

  'Hel-lo?' Hilary was sounding impatient.

  'Hi, Hils, you don't know me but I'm a friend of Leila.'

  There was a pause. 'Who?'

  'You know, Leila, that gorgeous horse you had up at your pool party last month.'

  'Listen, honey, any friend of that freeloader is no friend of mine. At my last party she broke into the kitchen, scoffed every last canapé and barfed on my floor. When I went to get a mop to clean it up, or actually, to find the maid to tell her to clean it up, Leila jumped out at me in a Scream mask ...'

  Leila smiled, remembering her little joke.

  '... so-o-o uncool.'

  Leila felt a little shudder go through her. Hilary, her best pal, was calling her uncool?

  Hilary continued, 'And as for her dancing, my maid was scrubbing horseshoe marks off my wall for a month. Goodbye.'

  Clunk.

  Leila was shattered, absolutely shattered. She'd always thought she had a real friend in Hilary. Well, no matter, she'd call ... but try as she might, she couldn't think of anybody else to call.

  Hatcher now stood in Strudworth's office reading from his notes.

  'Charlotte has no female authority figure. She loves horses. What more simple way to create a belief system than a talking horse? Then if she fails at the academy, she can blame it all on the horse.'

  Strudworth nodded thoughtfully.

  'So it's the pressure?'

  'Exactly.' Hatcher put his hand up to prop himself against a glass case and then realised he was staring at that creepy horse. He pulled his hand away and stood up straight. 'She's not insane, she's just ... un-stable – get it?'

  Strudworth didn't find his pun amusing. Especially not after he'd left greasy fingerprints all over the case of her stuffed Zucchini.

  Hatcher continued. 'Essentially, she's a young girl looking for a lot of attention.'

  'So for now?'

  Hatcher was emphatic.

  'Do nothing.' A little too emphatic – he felt the last of the chocolate biscuits working its way up from his stomach. He probably shouldn't have eaten the whole packet. 'Put the ball in her court.'

  In the stables, The Evil Three were cleaning their tack within earshot of the depressed Leila. She had to find some way of getting out of this disgusting prison.

  'Well, at least that's one less competitor for the JOES,' said Lucinda.

  'That's something,' added Emma. 'I'm under so much pressure. Daddy's organised to telecast the parade of all riders and horses who make the JOES.'

  Leila and Rebecca were thrilled. 'We'll be on TV?'

  'Worldwide if you make it.'

  Leila's ears suddenly pricked up. A worldwide telecast? Tommy or Mr Gold would be bound to see it. Or somebody else who knew her would. Oh yes, this was her way home!!!

  Then a cold, hard reality poked its nose in – to make the telecast, she and the rube would have to make the JOES.

  In the stuffy boiler room, Charlotte lay on her back and thought of home. How she wished she were there beneath blue skies, not a TV or mobile phone in sight. Just Stormy, Rusty and her dad. It was horrible here, worse than she had feared. Not one friend. She didn't belong here any more than that selfish Leila did. Just her luck to get some egotistical, movie-star, talking horse!!!

  She reached across to her saddle and clutched the small plush toy horse she had attached. Then she went to sleep, dreaming of her mother's face.

  Chapter 10

  The next morning Charlotte headed to the stables, trying to put out of her head the previous day's problems. Clearly Mr Hatcher thought she was loco but, as she could do nothing to dissuade him of that, there was no point worrying about it. In all likelihood her name had already been scratched off the JOES list. Part of her wanted to head straight back to Snake Hills – but how could she face all those people who had given up what little they had to send her here? Besides, she owed it to herself and the memory of her mum to do her best. As for that treacherous, conceited horse, Leila, well, if she wasn't going to speak, Charlotte could easily return the compliment.

  Today, she was the first girl into the stables, figuring she'd need extra time to saddle up Leila. Prepared for battle, she walked down to the stall. She was astonished to find Leila standing alert and ready.

  'What took you so long?' said Leila. 'I've been up since five.'

  'I'm not talking to you,' Charlotte hissed back.

  'Hey, sorry about yesterday but what could I do?'

  Charlotte was miffed. 'Better they think I'm a freak than you?'

  'Don't be like that. You'll see. I've turned over a new leaf.'

  And to Charlotte's surprise she found that Leila was indeed compliant. In fact, she was quite perfect.

  Leila was hating every second of this sucky behaviour but years in the movie industry had taught her that sometimes you just had to play the game. Despite all her good intentions, she still flinched w
hen the saddle went on. It had some fluffy horse toy hanging off it. What was this? A nursery or a stable? Even though this uncool appendage offended her sense of style, Leila held her tongue. She caught the grey mare eyeing her suspiciously and threw a look back at her that said, 'You'll be eating my dirt before the day is out.'

  Miss Strudworth was surprised to see Charlotte Richards leading a well-behaved horse out of the stables. Well, at least that was a start. Mind you, she hadn't mounted yet. The girls fell into a straight line, their horses beside them. Strudworth blew her whistle and was gratified to see them all mount as one, even Richards.

  'Proceed to the arena,' commanded Strudworth. 'We'll be practising sprint and stop today.'

  Charlotte was elated when Leila trotted smartly to the arena. Strudworth began the exercise, blowing the whistle first to start at a gallop and then once more to signal a dead stop. Charlotte was surprised to find Leila was actually very good. Other horses overshot the mark but Leila stopped with precision.

  The first couple of sprints Leila handled as easily as a spoon in a cold sundae. As a little filly her mother had forced her to take lots of classes. Not everything had been lost in her Hollywood indulgence. By the third sprint, however, she was starting to wheeze. Her legs were like jello. Boy, was she out of shape. Fortunately, the woman who looked like a horse called a halt to the exercise. The kid whispered in her ear, 'Well done, you're really good.' Like, she didn't know that? Not that Leila had the energy to argue. She was knackered and looking forward to a nice long nap. That was something else she was really good at. In fact she was starting to doze as she stood there with the horsy woman droning about something in the background.

  '... and next, the hurdle.'

  HURDLE!!!

  Leila snapped wide awake. Jumps! She hissed out the side of her mouth, 'No way. I can't do this.'

  Charlotte said quietly, 'Trust me.'

  The first thing you ever learned in Hollywood was 'trust nobody'.

  Charlotte said, 'You'll feel me give the signal with my knees. Just shut your eyes and imagine you're Tinkerbell in Peter Pan.'

  Leila's heart was pounding. 'Tinkerbell, right.' She couldn't help but think of her father. They said he was the bravest horse with the biggest leap. He pulled all the hardest stunts. But in the end he jumped once too often and it killed him.

  Strudworth looked over and nodded the command. 'Richards.'

  Charlotte started Leila towards the hurdle. It wasn't high like a steeple. It was a pretty easy jump ... for a trained horse. But how would somebody like Leila manage?

  Leila charged towards the hurdle – ten metres, five metres – NO, she couldn't do this. She veered away.

  Charlotte wheeled Leila back around. She was aware of Strudworth seated on her horse nearby. Charlotte could just imagine what she was thinking: the Richards girl had started well today but now that things were getting tough, she couldn't cut the mustard. Charlotte wanted to prove her wrong but Leila was scared and there was no point yelling at her. She whispered, 'Listen, you have to trust me.'

  Leila spoke up as best she could with the bridle in her mouth. 'I ... on't ... trust ... y ... own ... mother.'

  Charlotte had dealt with scared horses before. 'This isn't Hollywood. This is Neverland. And you're Tinkerbell. Understand?'

  Charlotte now had Leila facing the hurdle. Leila could see the grey mare and the other horses sniggering off to the side. They really didn't think she could do it. In fact, she wasn't sure she could do it either, but hadn't she felt the same way about that walk-on part in Buffy that had made her career? She was Leila. She could do anything. She felt herself heading towards the hurdle. She could do it, sure she could.

  But then a big black shadow called doubt swooped in – ten metres, five metres – with every stride the hurdle got bigger and bigger and the shadow darker and darker. She felt the kid's signal, closed her eyes. 'I'm Tink, I'm Tink ...'

  To Charlotte, everything went into slow motion. Leila's legs bent and pushed and then they left the earth and sailed through the air. Charlotte loved this moment, part-bird, part-horse, part-human. The hurdle passed beneath and the ground came up to meet them as they landed with a powerful thump.

  Leila didn't believe she'd died but she couldn't be one hundred per cent sure. She still had her eyes closed. 'Can I open them now?'

  She felt the kid pat her on the neck. 'Yes, you can open them.'

  She did. And looked back at the hurdle. It didn't look so big any more. In fact it was puny. She felt the urge to dance.

  'Well done,' said Charlotte.

  They were out of earshot of anybody else. 'Othin to it. I made u look good.'

  Charlotte smiled. 'You've changed your tune.'

  Leila protested. 'I never scared. It's called acting.'

  From the distance The Evil Three were watching and they were not happy. Rebecca summed it up. 'She's actually not bad.'

  Competition for a place in the JOES had just got hotter.

  Feathers had been trying desperately to find some way of putting Mr Gold and Tommy onto the bad guy who'd led Leila astray with the pizza. He couldn't just start talking or then he'd become the subject of scientific experiment himself and he would never again see the open skies. No, he had to be clever about this. He had to do something to make them notice the suspicious guy and then get them to think it had all been their intuition or something.

  After a couple of days he had hit upon the solution. First he had saved all his seed. That meant dieting like crazy, which wasn't so hard as he was already so upset he could barely eat. Seed came in little husks that were dark on one side and light on the other. Often, just for the fun of it, Feathers would make patterns out of this light and dark.

  Over the last two days, seed by seed, he'd taken that creativity a step further. Using his tray as a frame, out of the seed he had constructed a black and white identikit of the crim he had seen stalking around the night Leila went missing. Above it he had written 'Gilty'. He figured if he could get Tommy and Mr Gold to notice his handiwork, the message and the image might crawl into their subconscious. Then, the next time they saw the crim hanging around, they might pay more attention to him. Feathers just needed the right opportunity to get them to see his artwork.

  And now it was presenting itself. Tommy and Joel Gold were in the trailer talking about Leila. Tommy had just told Mr Gold that the latest Leila replacement, the fifth they'd tried, was no good.

  Joel Gold shook his head sadly. 'You're right. There's only one Leila.'

  They were standing right in front of the cage. Feathers knew this was his best chance. Using all his strength, he lifted his tray with his beak. Gradually the sketch rose up so that now it was right between their profiles. They were looking at each other but if they turned, they would see it.

  Gold said, 'If only we had a lead on the nag-nappers we could give the police.'

  Tommy shook his head. 'Somebody must have seen something.'

  Feathers reached up with his wing and brushed his bell so it tinkled. He felt Joel Gold turning towards him. YES!!!

  Joel Gold turned to face the cage but right then something tickled his nose. Probably seed – he was allergic to it, always had been. He had no time to cover his mouth as he let out an enormous sneeze, blowing Feathers' artwork to the four corners of the trailer.

  'Bless you,' said Tommy, offering a tissue.

  Neither of them noticed Feathers banging his head into the bars in frustration – all his hard work had been turned to dust.

  The night of her hurdles effort Leila stood tall in her stall, grinning across at the grey mare. 'So what did you think of that, grandma?'

  The mare muttered something inaudible and turned her back. Typical, thought Leila. Just like in tinsel-town. People couldn't handle her success. Well, she'd be back there soon with a hot body and a whole new bag of tricks. The rube was a pain in the fetlock but Leila could handle her easy enough. Looking on her as a kind of cheap personal trainer was probably best. Th
ings weren't turning out so bad after all.

  That was a sentiment shared by Charlotte. She sat alone in the dining room, feeling the eyes of The Evil Three upon her but, rather than being concerned, she was pleased to have them on edge. She ate with great relish. Leila had proved she could be a pretty talented equestrian horse and now that she had realised her attitude had been all wrong, they could make a top team.

  That night, for the first time since she'd been at Thornton Downs, Charlotte lay in bed in her small, stuffy boiler room and felt content. It didn't really matter how the other girls treated her. It didn't really matter if Mr Hatcher and Miss Strudworth thought she was delusional. In Leila she had a real friend now. Together they could make the JOES. She shut her eyes and went to sleep instantly, with a wide smile on her face.

  Next morning Charlotte burst brightly into the stables. 'Hi there, Leila, how did you sleep?'

  Leila moaned. She had barely slept at all. Every joint in her body ached. When they were out in the open heading towards the arena and able to speak privately, Leila announced she was worried she had typhoid fever.

  Charlotte felt her. 'No temperature.'

  'Maybe it's one of those no-temperature diseases. Every muscle in my body feels like it's been stitched.'

  'That's just good old-fashioned soreness. You exercised muscles you've probably never used before. Once we get warmed up you'll be fine.'

  Leila didn't believe her but by the time they got to the arena she was feeling a whole lot better.

  Strudworth was in the centre of the ring. A row of flags on small stands stretched from one side to the other.

  'Today it's slalom practice,' Strudworth announced. 'The object is to move between all the flags without touching them.' Strudworth demonstrated on her horse. Charlotte was impressed. For someone who looked so awkward on her own feet, Strudworth on a horse was fluid, balanced and precise.

  Leila stifled a yawn. Easy peasy. One of her films, On Thin Ice, had featured Sarah-Jane as an aspiring ice-polo player and Leila and Sarah had spent a week of intensive training doing this very same slalom stuff on an ice-field. Well, Leila had feigned a cold and the stunt horse had had to do it, but all the same, really. Leila had watched the stunt horse doing it from her cosy caravan while drinking large mugs of hot chocolate. Nothing to it.