Elizabeth

Whitechapel one of the most highly regarded places in the whole of the horse riding industry and each year it opens its doors to 37 new candidates. One of which I am hoping will be me. Every year for generations our family has got in to Whitechapel. And been trained by professionals in riding. Both my parents are eventers on my mums side my grandfather is a top dressage rider my grandma worked in equine law. On the other side my grandfather was a top trainer and grandma used to go out hunting with the local club. Everyone who is now a rider in my family went to Whitechapel. I have to get in I can't not. ever since I can remember I have been competing with and without the pony club. been to more nationals than one can count and had more horses than the queen herself. My parents have never short of money especially not when it comes to horses. they will get me anything, not to boast. But if I can't get into Whitechapel I don't know what they'll do.

Every year around 3000 people from all over the world audition sending in videos of themselves riding I have made it to the top hundred on my youngster Thunder he is a 17hh Chestnut a beautiful 3 year old, even if he is a handful he is a an Irish warmblood so fully capable of international competitions. I absolutely love him he is amazing, but I just hope I can be amazing too.

Sophie

I sighed. That was mum. I heard the front door slam and the steps creep groggily as if infected by her. She was drunk you could just tell by the way she climbed the stairs. I heard the slumped footsteps bang around on the landing for a while before another door slamming I breathed out. Time to get out before she came back. Quickly I got dressed and crept past dad's bedroom he was lying on his bed stoned as usual. I felt along the damp mouldy wall before climbing down the stairs years of perfecting my non- creakiness had done me well. I pulled open the front door, It creaked but there was nothing to be done about that and quickly slammed it behind me. I sprinted down the cold street even in my jumper and jacket it was freezing. Well what did I expect it was the middle of winter at midnight. I reached the stables and undid the padlock into the barn I crept into the stables the horses all nickered softly. I patted them down and rubbed them in all their favourite places. My favourite was Taser. he was a big Dutch warmblood with a huge jump. He was 5 years old and stood at around16hh he was perfect for me. I loved him to bits. He would make the perfect eventer if only I could get into Whitechapel. A couple of months earlier I had sent my video and email off to Whitechapel explaining why I would love to go there. I was so ecstatic when I got the letter through saying I had made it through and to come to Whitechapel on the 14 of February with your horse. Lottie had said of coarse I could take him to Whitechapel. But she wondered how I was going to pay the fees. I had said I was going for a scholarship placement. There are only one of these per year so it was unlikely I would get it but it was worth a shot. it was better than living with my mum and dad for another year. I crept around to the hay barn and fell asleep amongst the hay just like I had been doing for the past 4 years.

The next morning I awoke. In the pitch black I estimated around 3 a.m. my body had got used to doing this and so I needed to creep back in the early hours of the morning so as not to wake my parents. I could just about make out the little bits of dust and hay floating around in front of my face I made my way over to the door feeling against the hard, dry, wood I loved this place playing with the horses climbing on the hay bales is pretty the only happy memory of my childhood. I creeped out of the barn and back past the doxing horses stroking a couple of them as I passed today was Monday! back to school at last even with the horses the week end seemed to drag out for so long. By 11 a.m. on Saturday I had already done all of my homework and extra research I did, just to make sure I stayed the best in my year. Saturday evening was bad, but Sunday was worse; Sunday was the horses day off that meant no riding and so less time at the stables which meant more time with my parents.

I left the barn looking back one last time at the black wood and the comforting horses sign, and the reassuring nicker of the horses and the warm light of the reception. Out into the cold hard morning..

I sighed. That was mum. I heard the front door slam and the steps creep groggily as if infected by her. She was drunk you could just tell by the way she climbed the stairs. I heard the slumped footsteps bang around on the landing for a while before another door slamming I breathed out. Time to get out before she came back. Quickly I got dressed and crept past dad's bedroom he was lying on his bed stoned as usual. I felt along the damp mouldy wall before climbing down the stairs years of perfecting my non- creakiness had done me well. I pulled open the front door, It creaked but there was nothing to be done about that and quickly slammed it behind me. I sprinted down the cold street even in my jumper and jacket it was freezing. Well what did I expect it was the middle of winter at midnight. I reached the stables and undid the padlock into the barn I crept into the stables the horses all nickered softly. I patted them down and rubbed them in all their favourite places. My favourite was Taser. he was a big Dutch warmblood with a huge jump. He was 5 years old and stood at around16hh he was perfect for me. I loved him to bits. He would make the perfect eventer if only I could get into Whitechapel. A couple of months earlier I had sent my video and email off to Whitechapel explaining why I would love to go there. I was so ecstatic when I got the letter through saying I had made it through and to come to Whitechapel on the 14 of February with your horse. Lottie had said of coarse I could take him to Whitechapel. But she wondered how I was going to pay the fees. I had said I was going for a scholarship placement. There are only one of these per year so it was unlikely I would get it but it was worth a shot. it was better than living with my mum and dad for another year. I crept around to the hay barn and fell asleep amongst the hay just like I had been doing for the past 4 years.

Annabel

She mounted up onto her prize horses back. A pure bred Arab worth well over £30 000.Her father looked on from his Tesla. Rather not spoil his hand made shoes. he had been very proud when his daughter had been accepted to come to Whitechapel for the final round of the competition.

She roughly kicked her horse into a trot pulling her head down with a sharp jerk of the reins she flapped her legs up and down on the side of the saddle and boosted the horse into a canter she sat back pulling on her mouth pulling her sharply into the run in for the jump this was their first jump of the day and it was already at 4ft she did a big kick and a slap with the whip over the jump clunking down in the saddle afterwards. She had fully expected to be invited to Whitechapel for the last round. To make it to the top 100 was to be expected all she had to do now was rank first. Which would be easy. Her horse was a pure bred Arab trained by Clinton Anderson. She would rank first if was the last thing she did.

she jumped off her horse, she hated the fact she had to ride every day what were her parents thinking all she wanted to do was compete and win. No need for any silly practice. she leapt of her horse and walked over to the car got in and drove off the grooms would do the rest of the work for her. Exercise, muck out, feed, groom, water and turn out.

The tesla backed out of the private yard and drove the two minute walk home across the Moore estate. Included in the Moore estate was a golf coarse, hunting and hacking, a swimming pool, tennis courts and of coarse many nature paths through the field and woods.

As soon as Annabel got home she changed and played on one of her apple macs. While the servants bustled round her doing her laundry and bringing her food.

More chapters to come….

her ariat boots squeaked against the £1500 saddle. She had been rather annoyed when her father had given it to her for her birthday she wanted something better.