Star Dancer Read online

  ‘A fast-paced and exciting story.’

  THE IRISH TIMES

  ‘A most accomplished writer for adult and child.’

  BOOKS IRELAND

  Star Dancer

  MORGAN LLYWELYN

  Dedication

  This book is for Michael Regan

  of Trim, County Meath

  Contents

  Reviews

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1 Worlds Apart

  2 Meeting the Enemy

  3 An Awful Nightmare

  4 The New Groom

  5 Learning the Ropes

  6 A Job for Ger

  7 No Jumping, No Eventing

  8 The Magic Stone

  9 Big Dreams

  10 Missing!

  11 Back to the Gang

  12 A Second Chance

  13 The Big Event

  14 Trouble at the Stables

  15 Temptation

  16 The Sale

  About the Author

  Copyright

  1 – Worlds Apart

  ‘KEEP YOUR BLEEDIN’ HEADS DOWN, YOU LOT!’ Ger hissed.

  ‘If we keep our heads down,’ Liam protested, ‘how’ll we …’

  ‘Ssshhh! Would you ever shut up? They’ll hear you!’

  Hidden behind a brick wall, the five boys crept forward. The wall was no more than a metre high. A boy who straightened his back could be seen at once by The Enemy.

  They all knew who The Enemy was.

  Coming to the end of the wall, they found themselves at the edge of a mowed lawn. Beyond that was a flower bed, and beyond that again a beech hedge, brittle with neglect. The boys crowded together and eyed the open ground.

  ‘Dangerous,’ said Anto.

  ‘Yeah,’ Danny agreed. Danny always agreed with Anto.

  Ger tossed his mop of red hair out of his eyes. He never agreed with Anto. ‘Nothing to it,’ he said. ‘A quick scarper and we’re safe behind that hedge.’

  Rags wiped his nose on his sleeve. ‘Mind no one’s watching from a window,’ he warned.

  The five swung their eyes towards the nearest house. Net curtains hung at the windows. They could not see who might be lurking behind them.

  Liam said, ‘We could go around behind, you know. And through the back gardens.’ But no one listened to him. No one ever listened to Liam. He was both the youngest and the smallest of the gang. He was not yet twelve. Rags and Anto were already thirteen. But Ger was the leader. He was strong and wiry and bold, and had the best ideas.

  Ger Casey was the despair of his mother. ‘Someday that lad of yours’ll find himself in the nick just like his da,’ the neighbours warned Mrs Casey. ‘He’s a wild one and always in trouble.’

  But Ger did not seek trouble. He just wanted to have fun. Hitting out at The Enemy was fun.

  ‘Right!’ he cried. ‘Make a run for the hedge! C’mon!’ Tossing the hair out of his eyes again, he sprinted forward.

  The others ran after him. They thought they could feel eyes drilling into them through the lace curtains. They were deep in Enemy territory now.

  The beech hedge ran beside a tall brick house with a newly painted front door. None of its windows was broken. The house looked solid and comfortable. Ger snorted with contempt. It was the sort of house you’d expect to find The Enemy living in.

  He followed the hedge back along the side until he could get a clear shot at the side windows. Then he crouched down and searched among the hedge roots, looking for some odd-shaped or interesting stone, something unusual to catch his eye. Just any old rock wouldn’t do. It had to be special.

  The other boys watched eagerly as he made his choice, and stood up, looked at the windows. One had a fancy bit of leaded glass along the top. That’ll do, Ger decided. Why should The Enemy have fancy glass in their windows when he didn’t have any?

  ‘Smash that one, Ger,’ Rags hissed. ‘Yeah, smash that one!’

  Ger squinted at the window. He took his time, waiting until everything felt just right. Then he threw the rock.

  There was a sound of shattering glass. The air was torn by the sudden scream of a burglar alarm.

  ‘Run for it!’ Anto shouted.

  They scattered in every direction.

  Ger ran faster than any of the others. He didn’t pay any attention to where he was going. He just wanted to get away before the police came.

  Suzanne caught her lower lip between her teeth. It was a habit she had when she was trying very hard. Anne, her riding instructor, had warned her about it. ‘If your horse stumbles or shies, Suzanne, you could bite through your lip.’

  But Suzanne forgot.

  Star Dancer was very fresh this morning. He was in a strange place, and he was looking at everything. It was taking him a long time to relax and start chewing gently on the bit as he should.

  Suddenly the bay horse lifted his head and snorted at a groom who was passing the schooling area, carrying a long-handled stable brush over his shoulder.

  When the horse started, Suzanne tensed too, but then she smiled. ‘You big eejit,’ she said fondly to Star Dancer. ‘You’re not scared of a brush.’

  At the sound of her voice, Dancer swivelled his ears back to listen. He liked Suzanne’s voice. It was gentle and kind. He began to relax.

  Through the reins in her hands, Suzanne could feel her horse begin to chew on the bit. That meant his mouth was soft and he was willing to obey the signals she would send him with her fingers.

  Without dropping the reins, Suzanne slipped one hand up under Dancer’s black mane and stroked his neck. ‘Good boy, that’s a good boy.’

  Her touch was as gentle as her voice. The horse relaxed still more. He took longer strides. Suzanne settled into his rhythm, enjoying the lovely floating sensation that meant her horse was moving freely forward. She smiled to herself. It was going to be a good day.

  Ger ran until he couldn’t hear the sound of the burglar alarm any more. Then he slowed to a walk. His heart was pounding in his chest. ‘Almost nabbed me that time,’ he said to himself. ‘But I got away.’

  Sticking his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans, he took a deep breath and puffed out his chest. ‘I always get away,’ he said proudly. He began to whistle as he walked.

  Another point scored against The Enemy.

  The Enemy was everywhere. The Enemy hated boys who were free and bold and made noise. The Enemy was the people who lived in nice houses and drove nice cars. The Enemy looked down on people like Ger and his friends.

  Ger’s gang did not live in nice houses or ride around in big shiny cars, talking on telephones as they drove. They lived in shabby flats with peeling wallpaper, too many people crowded into too few rooms. If they had to go anywhere, they walked or took a bus.

  Most of their fathers did not have jobs. A few of them, like Ger’s father, were in prison. Mrs Casey had been left to raise six children by herself. It was hard. She could not watch them all the time. In the end she stopped trying. Ger, the youngest, ran wild.

  ‘I can take care of meself,’ he often boasted. ‘Me Mam can spend all day in the pub if she wants, she doesn’t have to worry about me. I take care of meself, no problem.’

  Except right now. He seemed to be lost.

  He did not see any landmarks he knew. He did not know which way home was. As he wandered on, one street led into another equally strange to his eyes. He did not dare admit to himself that he was very lost indeed, or that his throat was dry and his hands were sweating. No matter which way he turned, he did not see anything he recognised.

  He clenched his sweating palms into fists and thrust them deep into his pockets. ‘If you ever get lost, ask a Guard for help,’ his mother had once told him. But remembering the burglar alarm, he did not want to as
k a policeman anything.

  At last he came to a busy junction. Across the road he saw, with great relief, buildings he knew. Everyone in Dublin knew what the RDS looked like, the Royal Dublin Show grounds where the big horse show was held in August. The Spring Show was on now, a sign said, and Ger could see crowds of people inside the fence.

  ‘Posh place,’ Ger murmured to himself, staring at the big stone buildings. Ger had never been to any of the events at the RDS. That was the sort of place The Enemy went, all dressed up and with money to spend. He could see plenty of them inside the fence now, wandering around on their way to the garden show or the livestock judging. They were laughing and happy.

  Before he knew it, Ger had crossed the road and was standing just outside the iron railings, peering in.

  There was a steward at the nearest gate. But as Ger watched, a little girl inside pulled away from her mother and ran across the paving. She tripped and fell and began to scream. The steward left the gate for a moment to run and help.

  Ger could not believe his luck. As quick as a bird, he darted through the gate and lost himself in the crowd inside.

  2 – Meeting the Enemy

  IN THE SCHOOLING AREA, Suzanne was riding Star Dancer in large circles and waiting for Anne. Her instructor was on the other side of the practice arena, working with another of her students who would be riding in a class later in the day. Suzanne did not have any classes today, but Dancer had to be exercised just the same. Even if it was lashing rain, horses had to be ridden.

  Suzanne was glad the sun was shining this morning. The schooling area was growing more and more crowded with horses and riders. Some of the other riders had instructors too. Different voices could be heard making suggestions or giving orders. Some were harsh and demanding.

  Harsh voices made Dancer flatten his ears against his head. Again and again, Suzanne spoke to him, calming him down. ‘It’s all right, Dancer. I know this is a strange place, but I want you to get used to it. We’re going to show here. You need to know what it’s like.’ She stroked his silken neck and glanced toward Anne.

  But Anne was still busy with her other student. ‘We’d better begin our serious work anyway,’ Suzanne told her horse, ‘before it’s too crowded in here.’ She noticed an instructor putting up a low fence while a small girl on a fat grey pony waited to practise jumping. Gathering her reins, Suzanne rode Dancer to the other side of the arena. She trotted him in a couple of large circles, then closed her legs against his sides and asked him to do shoulder-in.

  Ger Casey rounded the corner of the nearest building. He expected someone to catch him at any moment, realise he did not belong here, and throw him out. But until that happened, he meant to see all he could. He had already found the garden show, but it didn’t interest him. ‘Just crummy flowers,’ he muttered to himself, and rambled on. There were stands selling minerals and ices and sweets, but he had no money. Then his ears and his nose told him the livestock was just ahead, around this corner …

  Ger stopped and stared. In front of him was a large, dusty area with a white rail fence around it. Inside some people were riding ponies. There was also a dark brown horse, larger than the ponies and as shiny as a new car, coming straight towards him. Then, as Ger watched in astonishment, the brown horse began to trot sideways. Sideways! Legs crossing like scissors!

  Ger didn’t know much about horses, but he knew they couldn’t trot sideways. They never did it on the telly.

  A girl of about his own age was riding the horse. She did something – Ger couldn’t tell what – and the horse moved straight forward, then began to trot sideways in the opposite direction. It looked like a kind of dance. Ger had never seen anything like it.

  He forgot everything else and leaned his elbows on the top rail of the fence so he could watch. The shiny brown horse glided back and forth, doing all sorts of fancy steps. It went in tiny little circles, it went sideways, it did a very slow sort of gallop that hardly moved forward at all. It looked like the girl was sitting on a rocking chair.

  ‘Wow!’ Ger said under his breath. He noticed other riders giving the brown horse admiring glances as it danced by.

  Then the brown horse stopped just across the fence from Ger.

  Looking down, Suzanne noticed the red-haired boy staring at Dancer with his mouth open. ‘How was that?’ she asked him over the fence.

  Ger’s mouth snapped shut in surprise. The girl was talking to him. To him!

  ‘What was that?’ he replied.

  A moment too late, Suzanne realised he wasn’t one of the grooms to be found around the stable. He was a stranger. But a very impressed stranger, staring at Dancer as if he had never seen a horse before.

  ‘That’s called collected canter,’ Suzanne explained. ‘We’re not very good at it, we shouldn’t even be trying it yet. But it feels so good.’

  ‘And the other thing? Where you went sort of sideways and the horse crossed its legs?’

  ‘That’s shoulder-in. They’re both dressage movements.’

  She might have been speaking Greek. Her words made no sense to Ger. ‘Shoulder-in? Dressidge?’

  ‘Dress’ahj,’ Suzanne corrected gently. ‘It’s French. It just means training, really.’

  ‘I knew it! You’re training that thing to dance!’

  He sounded so surprised Suzanne laughed. ‘Not exactly, but I’m glad you think it looks like dancing. And he’s not a thing. His name’s Star Dancer.’ And he’s my friend, she almost added. But she didn’t. It might sound silly to this boy.

  ‘Star Dancer. Yeah.’ Ger nodded as if the horse’s name proved his point.

  Suzanne asked politely, ‘Do you have a horse here?’

  ‘What, me? A horse?’ The question surprised Ger. Horses were for stuck-up people in tight breeches and funny coats. Horses were for The Enemy. But the girl on the brown horse was wearing faded jeans and a sweatshirt that said Save the Whales. She didn’t look like The Enemy. She had dark hair and friendly eyes.

  Ger said, ‘Nah, but me uncle does. He’s got loads of horses. Race horses. Famous ones,’ he added.

  ‘He does?’ She sounded impressed. ‘Where?’

  Ger thought fast. He had no uncle, and even if he did, his uncle wouldn’t have race horses. Where did people keep race horses anyway?

  ‘Kildare,’ he guessed.

  ‘Oh. I don’t know much about race horses,’ Suzanne admitted. ‘I’ve never even been to a horse race. I’ve been to Punchestown, though. I love to watch the eventing.’ I’d love to do it, she almost added.

  The girl was speaking a strange language again. Punchestown, eventing. ‘Yeah, me too,’ Ger said.

  Suzanne cocked her head on one side and looked down at him. He was not very clean. He had a strong Dublin accent, unlike any of her friends.

  Remembering her manners, she said, ‘My name’s Suzanne O’Gorman.’

  The boy blinked. ‘I’m Ger Casey.’

  ‘Ger?’

  ‘Gerard,’ he mumbled. ‘But don’t call me that.’

  ‘Doesn’t anyone ever call you Gerard?’

  He scowled. ‘They better not.’

  ‘How old are you, Ger?’ Suzanne asked pleasantly.

  He tried to stand taller than he was. ‘Fifteen,’ he lied, adding almost three years. He wouldn’t be thirteen until next month. ‘Well, almost fifteen,’ he added when he saw doubt in her eyes. To change the subject he said quickly, ‘How old’s Star Dancer?’

  ‘He’s seven. And he’d better get back to work. There’s my instructor, Anne Fitzpatrick, and she’s coming over. It was nice to meet you, Ger. If you’re at the show tomorrow, you might see our class. I’m in the dressage. ‘Bye!’ She turned the horse and trotted away to be joined by a tall young woman in a quilted jacket. Star Dancer began circling the woman while she gave instructions. As Ger watched, spellbound, the horse did more of those magical, dancing steps, gliding sideways, turning in a tiny circle, slipping back and forth as if he was on wheels. He seemed to move to sile
nt music.

  Ger hung over the fence, watching, while the instructor made Suzanne repeat the same moves over and over again. At last Anne seemed satisfied, and Suzanne dismounted. The woman and the girl stood talking for a few minutes longer, then they walked off towards the stable together, leading the horse who could dance.

  Ger didn’t want to go home to peeling wallpaper and broken windows and rubbish on the steps. He wanted to stay with his elbows propped on the rail, enjoying the apple-round shapes of the ponies, the long slender legs of the horses. Golden sunlight bathed the riders. Beneath their safety helmets, the children in the schooling ring did not look much different from Ger and his friends.

  I could do that too, he thought.

  I could ride a horse too. I could!

  He closed his eyes and hugged himself as hard as he could, wishing.

  When he opened his eyes he was still on the outside of the fence, looking in. The children inside were still on their ponies and horses, looking happy. But just for a moment he had – almost – made himself believe he was one of them.

  I’ll come back again, Ger promised himself. No matter what.

  I’ll come back again tomorrow and see Star Dancer.

  3 – An Awful Nightmare

  ‘WHO WAS THAT BOY YOU WERE TALKING TO?’ Anne asked Suzanne as they fastened Star Dancer’s head collar to the crossties. With a rubber curry comb, Suzanne began rubbing away the damp mark on his back where the saddle had been. ‘Just a boy,’ she said. ‘He’s called Ger Casey.’

  ‘One of the grooms? He looked a bit young.’

  ‘I don’t think he works here.’

  Star Dancer twisted his neck around so he could nudge Suzanne with his nose. The instructor frowned. ‘Have you been giving him sugar again? You shouldn’t do that, Suzanne, I’ve told you. It makes him beg and that’s a bad habit.’

  ‘But he loves it. And he’s been good.’

  ‘I know. Just remember to reward him with a pat instead. Giving sugar to horses makes some of them start biting, trying to get more.’