Kitabı oku: «Somersaults and Dreams: Going for Gold»

For all the West Country League A squad girlies, past and present: Eva, Georgia, Gaia, Nancy, Camille, Esme, Niamh, Phoebe, Livvy, Isobel, Abby. And Elsie, of course!

And for Lynne Hutchison whose remarkable return from injury inspired this story and who continues to inspire young gymnasts across the country.

Thanks.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

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

CHAPTER Seventeen

CHAPTER Eighteen

CHAPTER Nineteen

CHAPTER Twenty

CHAPTER Twenty-One

CHAPTER Twenty-Two

CHAPTER Twenty-Three

CHAPTER Twenty-Four

CHAPTER Twenty-Five

CHAPTER Twenty-Six

CHAPTER Twenty-Seven

CHAPTER Twenty-Eight

CHAPTER Twenty-Nine

CHAPTER Thirty

CHAPTER Thirty-One

CHAPTER Thirty-Two

CHAPTER Thirty-Three

CHAPTER Thirty-Four

CHAPTER Thirty-Five

Acknowledgements

CHAPTER

One

Ellie Trengilly stood in the middle of the biggest gym she’d ever seen in her life. A vast white space with a sea of blue mats spreading out in all directions, white brick walls stretching up to viewing balconies and vaulted ceilings, and an arch leading to a pitted area. The National Sports Training Centre was all so shiny-new and high-tech that if Ellie’s heart hadn’t been bursting with excitement, she would almost have felt homesick for the familiar tatty surroundings of her old Academy. Almost.

Ellie still couldn’t believe she’d been offered a place in the Junior GB gymnastics squad! Only twelve girls qualified for that honour each year. It meant they were invited to attend National squad camps like this one: a week of intensive training with top coaches at the National Sports Training Centre. It meant they were entitled to wear the coveted GB leotard, and it might – just might – mean a chance to compete for their country.

Of course, that was still a distant dream – for now, just being invited to National squad camp was enough for Ellie, as well as the fact that she was there with some of her best friends from the London Gymnastics Academy! Sweet, sensible Bella and Kashvi the tomboy were there, and even crazy little circus girl Katya had been offered a place – incredible, since she’d only started formal gymnastics training less than a year ago. And then there was Scarlett, Queen of the Beam – although Ellie didn’t really consider her a friend!

Not all of her old Pre-Elite squad mates had made it into National squad, though. Camille had missed out due to injury, and Nancy . . . Ellie sighed at the thought of her best friend, who had given up gymnastics last year. Nancy’s twin brother, Tam, was here with the boys’ squad, but it wasn’t quite the same as having Nancy herself here to share everything with.

‘Welcome to National squad camp.’ Ellie’s thoughts were dragged sharply back to the present by the small, elegant, grey-haired figure of Barbara Steele, head national coach. She was addressing the twelve Junior girls who were lined up on the practice floor in their GB leotards, the Union Jack running across the shiny red fabric. Ellie had dreamed of wearing a GB leotard for her whole life and she still couldn’t believe she’d finally earned the right to do so.

‘I’ll be overseeing all of the training camps taking place this week,’ Barbara went on, looking them up and down critically, ‘from the Seniors down to the babies who’ll be arriving in a day or two.’

Ellie glanced over to where the Senior National squad were already warming up on the other side of the gym. She recognised Sian Edwards and Sophia Mitford, the two most senior gymnasts at the Academy, as well as a few other well-known faces. Just watching them made a shiver go down her spine. They had represented GB at the last Olympics, and Ellie dreamed of following in their footsteps one day. She could hardly believe she was training side by side with them now.

But Barbara’s reference to the babies also made Ellie remember that most of the girls lined up alongside her had been coming to National squad camps since they were eight or nine years old. She was a late joiner – she had only arrived at the Academy last year – and so she had to prove she was as good as her squad mates.

‘Your focus in this camp will be on new skills,’ Barbara went on. ‘You’ll be working on new combination tumbles on the floor, more advanced vaults and acrobatics series on the beam, as well as new flight element combinations on the bars.’

Ellie felt a flicker of excitement. The last few months had been all about perfecting old skills. The opportunity to work on new manouevres was terrifying and thrilling at the same time.

‘I want to see each of you stretching yourselves to the max,’ said Barbara. ‘I’ll be looking for potential in this camp – I’m already thinking ahead to selections for European Championships later in the year.’

Ellie’s heart started pounding again. Only five of the girls standing here today would be selected to go to Berlin for Euros. And looking at the others, she couldn’t imagine she would be one of them. Apart from her old Academy squad mates – all of whom were stunning gymnasts – they were also up against Eva Reddle, the Junior British Champion, and her friend Willow Hall, both from the famous Liverpool gym. Then there were two incredibly talented Welsh gymnasts – Phoebe and Rosa – and a sweet little Irish girl called Niamh. And then there was Memory Danster.

Memory was the same age as Ellie but she looked much older. She was mid height with a tight, compact frame, broad shoulders and limbs so muscly they made Ellie’s look like twigs that might snap at any minute. Even the expression on Memory’s face was fierce. Her dark hair was tightly plaited to her scalp in cornrows which ran away from her furrowed brow, beneath which were a set of intense black eyes and a firmly-set mouth that looked as if it had forgotten how to smile.

Ellie had tried to say hello as they’d put their stuff in the lockers earlier, but Memory had completely blanked her.

‘Perhaps she is just shy,’ said serious, dark-haired Bella, who always tried to see the best in everyone.

‘Or maybe she is getting out of bed on wrong side this morning,’ said Katya. The tiny blonde-haired girl had grown up performing in a circus in Moscow, and she still spoke with a pronounced Russian accent. ‘She will be friendly tomorrow.’

‘Let’s hope so,’ said Ellie. From Memory’s fierce expression, though, Ellie got the feeling that she wasn’t here to make friends.

‘I’ll mainly be working with the Senior squad girls in the lead-up to Euros,’ Barbara Steele was saying. Ellie tore her eyes away from Memory to focus on the head coach. ‘But I am thrilled to announce that a brand-new coach will be overseeing the Junior GB squad.’

A shiver of excitement and anticipation rippled through the line of gymnasts. Katya turned to Ellie and mouthed, ‘Lizzie ?’

Ellie’s stomach did a flip. No, it couldn’t be. Could it?

Lizzie Trengilly – Ellie’s aunt – had been the greatest GB gymnast of all time, until her career had come to a tragic end when she was just eighteen, after a terrible fall at the Olympics.

‘She is a name so familiar that she hardly needs an introduction,’ Barbara went on. ‘And she knows better than almost anyone what it takes to get to the top.’

Ellie’s heart was racing. Could it be . . . could it be?

The thought of Lizzie being here – now – seemed both impossible and impossibly exciting! Ellie hadn’t seen her for years. After her accident Lizzie had gone travelling round the world, barely sending more than the occasional postcard home. Ellie had always believed that Lizzie wasn’t interested in her own gym career until the discovery a few months ago that her aunt had been watching all along. After that, Ellie’s longing to see Lizzie – talk to her – get to know her – had deepened to a desperate ache.

‘Ah, here she is . . .’ said Barbara. ‘Right on cue!’

Ellie heard the door to the gym swing open and the sound of footsteps crossing the mats. Her heart was pounding as she tried to catch a glimpse in the mirror, but she was standing at the wrong angle to see.

Could it be? Recently rumours had been circulating about Lizzie leaving her coaching job in California, about her returning to the the UK.

‘Let me introduce . . . Vivian Ponting.’

Ellie turned round. There, striding across the blue floor in flip flops, was not Aunt Lizzie, but a taller gymnast, with broad shoulders, bleached blonde hair and a face so tanned her smile glowed whitely out of it.

‘Hi guys!’ the woman said, in a strong Australian drawl. ‘It’s grand to meet you all.’

Ellie’s heart did a bellyflop. She felt a bitter pang of disappointment.

‘Vivian is a vault expert,’ Barbara was saying. ‘She has an Olympic gold medal on vault, and she won all-around silver at World Champs as both a Junior and Senior gymnast, by performing some of the most difficult vaults ever seen in competition.’

As Ellie tried to push her disappointment to one side, she stared at the coach. Vivian’s face looked familiar, although she couldn’t quite place why.

‘Vivian has been coaching in Australia,’ Barbara went on, ‘but she’s kindly agreed to give up the sun and surf to help prepare you girls for Junior Europeans.’

Ellie knew she should be excited. They were lucky to be working with someone so experienced. She could teach them so much, and Ellie had come to National squad camp to learn. But all she could think was that Vivian wasn’t Aunt Lizzie.

Vivian looked the line of gymnasts up and down critically. ‘You’ll hear a lot of people talking about the qualities that make great gymnasts,’ she said in her lazy Australian drawl. ‘Precision, technical skill, grace, artistry. These are all important.’ Vivian’s eyes narrowed as if she was weighing up each girl’s potential in a single glance.

‘But times are changing,’ she went on. ‘Nowadays great gymnastics, the kind of gymnastics you need to get to the top, requires power.’ Her eyes came to rest on Memory for a second. ‘I’ve no doubt you girls are bendy and graceful.’ Vivian spoke dismissively as if none of that mattered. ‘But to tackle new skills some of you are going to need to seriously build up your strength.’

Ellie glanced at herself in the mirror. She knew she was still short for her age, and compared to some of the others she was delicate. So were Bella and Katya. But she also knew all three of them possessed strength that might not be obvious.

‘Strength protects you from injury,’ Vivian went on. ‘Torn muscles, ripped ligaments – all these are common in gymnastics because it’s a high impact sport. The stronger you are, the less likely you are to sustain injuries.’

Ellie couldn’t help thinking of Camille, out for a year with an ACL tear, and of Aunt Lizzie after her terrible fall at the Olympics; laid up in bed, her leg in plaster and all her hopes and dreams lying in tatters around her.

‘So I’m going to build up your strength,’ Vivian said. ‘It’s not going to be pretty – you’re going to go to hell and back. But power comes from pain, that’s what I say.’

Ellie knew that Nancy would have had something to say about Vivian’s ‘pain is power’ mantra! She’d probably also have done a funny impression of the coach’s Aussie accent which would have had them all in stitches. But maybe it was a good thing that Nancy wasn’t there: Vivian didn’t look like the type who would approve of giggling. She looked as though she didn’t approve of much, in fact. Ellie had thought the Academy coaches were strict, but she had a feeling that Vivian would be ten times worse.

‘Right, let’s get to it!’ said Vivian. ‘The pain starts here, ladies!’

CHAPTER

Two

Ellie was right. She was used to gruelling conditioning sessions at the Academy, but this was worse than anything even the pre-Elite coach Oleg Petrescu could come up with. Back and forth across the floor they went – wheelbarrow walks, handstand walks, forward rolls, pikes to handstands, then forward rolls into back tucks. Over and over with no let-up whilst Vivian called out things like, ‘No wiggling . . . you think you’re a worm now? Keep those hips up, or do you need a hip replacement? Tuck your butt under . . . you ain’t twerking now, ladies!’

‘She’s not big on compliments, is she?’ asked Bella breathlessly at the end of one set, looking at Ellie with a concerned expression on her face.

‘She is a bossy-shoes, I think!’ Katya managed to whisper.

‘Bossy-boots!’ giggled Ellie.

‘Hey, Trengilly, stop gassing and let’s step it up a gear!’ Vivian yelled.

Ellie blushed and launched into a new series of continuous split leaps, pushing up off the ground to get as much height as possible.

‘Open . . . open, Trengilly,’ Vivian yelled. ‘Come on, you’re not even trying. You can get higher than that, can’t you?’

Ellie gritted her teeth and dug even deeper. She’d always been incredibly good on flight work and she knew her split leaps had elevation and line that the other gymnasts envied, but all Vivian said at the end was, ‘Shame you didn’t point your toes.’

Ellie felt herself flush even brighter red. She was sure she had been pointing her toes the whole way through. She bit her lip and carried on with the next sequence, a forward roll into a back tuck.

Only Vivian wasn’t finished with her.

‘C’mon! You’re not in the boxing ring, Ellie! . . . Point those toes! Tighter legs, tighter body, longer neck . . . higher, higher, higher!’

‘Wow, she’s got it in for you,’ said Scarlett as the warm-up came to an end and the girls congregated round the lockers, glugging down water and pulling off their leggings ready for apparatus work.

Blonde and glamorous Scarlett had never been Ellie’s greatest fan. Nancy called her ‘Queen of Mean’ and reckoned that Scarlett hated anyone with talent – which was probably why Ellie was top of her hit list! She certainly seemed to be enjoying watching Ellie squirm under Vivian’s constant criticism now.

‘What did you do to bug our new coach, I wonder?’ said Kashvi, glancing at Ellie in concern. Kashvi stood with her hands on her hips, face creased into a frown.

‘I guess not everyone is a fan of the name Trengilly,’ said Scarlett, still smirking as she took a swig of water out of a pink jewel-encrusted bottle which bore the motto ‘Star Gymnast’.

‘What?’ Ellie wanted Scarlett to explain what she had meant, but she’d already turned away. Vivian clapped her hands to hurry them all along.

‘Come on, Trengilly,’ she said. ‘Less chit-chat and a bit more commitment to training.’

Ellie glanced around. Niamh and Rosa were still putting their water bottles away. Phoebe was looking for her guard bag and Bella and Kashvi were talking. Why was Vivian singling her out?

As they started apparatus work, things got worse. Ellie was put in a team with Eva, Memory, Scarlett and Katya. They were up on the vault first, which meant they were working with Vivian. She took them down to the pitted area, a side gym with high brick walls and a window looking out over the woods. It was filled with every kind of apparatus imaginable, sunk in large pits filled with foam logs.

‘Like big soft cushions,’ Katya sighed when she saw them. ‘So we are not crackling any bones!’

‘When you’re working on new skills you want to work on soft surfaces,’ Vivian told them. ‘So, we’ll start out in the pit and safety mats now, then as we get closer to Euros we’ll go back to competition surfaces.’

Ellie felt a flutter of excitement. If she could master a new vault with a higher difficulty value it could really raise her all-around score. Barbara Steele wanted to see potential – this could be Ellie’s chance to show she had it.

‘Will you teach us the Produnova?’ asked Memory quietly. A slight American twang was mixed with her low Scottish burr. It was the first thing Ellie had heard her say all morning.

‘Yes, that would be amazing!’ said Eva, the tall, smiley-faced British Junior Champion. ‘Only four people in the world can perform a Produnova.’

‘Because it is super-dooper difficult,’ said Katya.

‘It carries a seven difficulty value,’ muttered Memory, staring at the floor as she spoke.

‘Nobody is learning the Produnova,’ said Vivian sharply. ‘It’s a dangerous vault that should be banned.’

‘But didn’t you do it?’ asked Scarlett. ‘At World Champs – and the Olympics.’

‘And then I stopped performing it,’ snapped Vivian, her tone of voice making it clear that this conversation was over.

‘Can we at least work on Amanars?’ asked Scarlett, a hint of a whine in her voice.

‘Some of you don’t yet have the power for the more complex vaults,’ said Vivian, looking each of them up and down. ‘Memory – you can try for an Amanar. Eva and Scarlett – I want to see you working towards two and a half Yurchenkos. Katya, I believe you are still a vault novice, so you and Ellie should stick to the single twist.’

‘But . . .’ Ellie started to say.

‘You’re lacking in the upper body strength for the more difficult vaults, Trengilly,’ said Vivian firmly.

Ellie wanted to protest, to tell Vivian she was close to perfecting a double Yurchenko, but Vivian had already started walking away. ‘Go measure up then we’ll get started.’

‘Wow, she doesn’t leave much room for discussion, does she?’ said Eva, seeing how disappointed Ellie looked. ‘Don’t worry – when she sees how well you vault, she’ll soon change her mind.’

Ellie smiled, hoping Eva was right.

Before they could begin, the girls had to measure their run ups and mark the start point with chalk. Then the springboard had to be carefully adjusted for each gymnast. The whole thing took a while.

Whilst they waited, Vivian made them do gruelling strength exercises. She had them hanging from the wooden bars set against the wall, pulling their feet to horizontal and down again. Vivian watched them all with eagle eyes, and Ellie was determined to prove she was just as strong as the others.

She held her own against the taller gymnasts in the workout, refusing to give in even when her muscles screamed in pain, but when they started vaulting it was hard not to be impressed by the strength of girls like Memory and Eva. Eva was famous for her beautiful vaulting that made her seem almost as if she was flying, and Memory was so powerful that she seemed to explode into the air like a rocket.

‘Wow, she has got vaulting va-va-voom!’ said Katya, her face so serious as she pronounced this that Ellie struggled not to burst into giggles. But Katya was right. Eva Reddle had won vault gold at the British this year, but Memory, who’d been training in the US for the past three years, was in a class above even her. When it came to Ellie’s turn she was already feeling seriously under pressure. She wanted to prove to Vivian that they’d got off on the wrong foot.

‘Show me a single Yurchenko, Trengilly,’ snapped Vivian as Ellie stepped up to the runway.

But Ellie had already decided what she was going to do. She took the vault run up at full speed, hit the springboard with as much force as she could muster and flung herself up, pushing off the vault and twisting, once . . . one and a half times . . . twice in the air. She’d under-rotated slightly so she had to pull herself sharply back on landing, forcing her foot down so hard to prevent herself toppling that she felt a jolt of pain shoot up her ankle. She took a step back but somehow remained upright. Then, determined not to show weakness in front of her new coach, she took a deep breath and turned to Vivian with a smile.

The coach did not smile back. ‘Did I tell you to chuck a double, Trengilly?’

‘I . . . I just thought . . .’ Ellie stammered, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her ankle. ‘I had the speed so I . . . I thought I’d try for the double twist.’

‘Yeah, well, your take-off isn’t high enough yet,’ said Vivian, ‘and you’re not aggressive enough in your push to land a double safely.’

‘But I thought that . . .’

‘You’re also pulling your shoulder back too early,’ Vivian went on, her face unyielding. ‘You shouldn’t allow your feet to go over your hands till your body is starting to bend . . .’

‘Right, I . . .’

‘Right.’ Vivian glared at her. ‘So until you can get all that correct, I want you to stick to singles – nothing more than a one and half till I say so. Get it?’

Ellie was struggling with a mixture of emotions – disappointment, embarrassment, anger – and the horrible shooting pain in her ankle. She struggled to keep her voice even as she said, ‘But I thought we were working up new skills . . .’

Vivian stuck her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. ‘Trengilly, you wanna remember who the coach is here?’

Ellie bit her lip hard.

‘Come back to me when you’ve got a bit more muscle in those scrawny arms and then we’ll talk about upgrades!’

Ellie turned away, her eyes blurry with tears, her face burning with humiliation and her ankle throbbing. It had been just about the worst start to her week at National squad camp possible.

Luckily, the rest of the session went a bit better. Bar, beam and floor with the other coaches was hard work but Ellie found working on new skills exhilarating. She received as much encouragement as critique, even if her ankle did continue to bother her throughout the session. She was by far the strongest on bars – where not even Memory could match her difficulty value – and on floor and beam her artistry was scored as highly as her power tumbles and acro sequences.

The other coaches seemed keen to help her upgrade, and it was a relief to find that not everyone thought she was a completely hopeless gymnast. But Ellie knew that if she was to get a look-in for the Euros squad – or even get a call-back for the selection weekend in six weeks’ time – she was going to have to impress Vivian – or be left out in the cold.