Comet and the

Champion’s cup

Stacy Gregg

www.stacygregg.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2008. HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

Text copyright © Stacy Gregg 2008

Illustrations © Fiona Land 2008

Cover design copyright © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020 Cover photography © Shutterstock.com CBBC logo © British Broadcasting Corporation 2016

The author and illustrator assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of the work.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Conditions of Sale

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form, binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Ebook Edition © 2009 ISBN: 9780007340699

Version 2020-08-18

For Kirsty, who was there and knows

what really happened…

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Map

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

The Pony Club Secrets series:

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

The bay colt knew the girl was watching. He arched his neck proudly, delighting in her attention as he trotted by. When he passed the paddock railing where the girl was sitting, the colt came so close that he almost brushed against her knees. She giggled and reached out a hand to grab him, but the colt swerved away, putting on a sudden burst of speed, galloping away from her to the other side of the paddock.

When he reached the hedge at the end of the field his flanks were heaving and his muzzle was twitching with excitement. He wheeled about, his ears pricked forward, turning to face the girl who stared intently back at him.

The girl whistled. Her lips pursed together as she blew once, then a second time–a sharp, clear note that carried across the paddock. The colt heard her call, but at first he refused to obey, stamping at the ground and tossing his head defiantly. He held his ground briefly, his muscles quivering, before he leapt forward as if he were a racehorse, breaking from the gate. Thrilling in his own speed as his eager strides swallowed up the ground between them, the colt galloped back to her, wanting to start the whole game again.

“Good boy, Storm!” Issie giggled as the colt swept past again, once more managing to avoid her hand as she reached out to touch him.

They had played this game of tig many times, but Issie never got tired of it. She loved to watch Nightstorm move. His body still hadn’t grown into those long, lanky legs–it was as if he were teetering about on stilts–and yet there was something so graceful about him.

Nightstorm was hardly recognisable as the tiny bay foal with the white blaze that had been born that stormy night in the stables here at Winterflood Farm. It was Issie who had named the colt Nightstorm as they sheltered together in the stables while the lightning flashed above their heads. Lately, though, she had taken to calling him by his nickname–Storm.

Storm was just three months old, but already Issie could see that he was the best possible combination of both of his magnificent bloodlines. His elegant head carriage and beautiful, dished Arabian face were derived from his Anglo-Arab dam, Blaze. Physically, though, the colt was much more solid than his mother. He bore a powerful resemblance to his sire, the great grey stallion Marius. You could see it in his well-rounded haunches, classical topline and strong, solid hocks, all true signs of the Lipizzaner breed.

As the colt cantered back once more, Issie leapt down off the rails, a signal that the game was over. Storm understood this. He trotted towards her and didn’t try to swerve away this time. Instead, he came to a halt right next to her so that Issie could reach out and stroke his velvety muzzle. She ran her hand down the colt’s neck. Storm was already moulting, losing the soft, downy layer of fur that all foals are born with, to reveal the shiny, smooth grown-up coat underneath. Issie could see bits of deep russet bay, the colour of warm mahogany, emerging from underneath the baby-fluff.

Storm was growing fast. Sometimes Issie felt it was too quick–she wanted him to be a foal forever. At other times, she felt it still wasn’t fast enough. Horses take a long time to mature–and horses with Lipizzaner blood take longer than most. It would be three years before Storm was ready to be ridden. Such a long time! Issie had bitten her lip and tried not to say anything childish when Avery told her how long she must wait to ride the colt, but inside she felt bitterly disappointed. She didn’t want to wait. She wanted to ride Storm now!

It had never occurred to Issie that when her beloved mare Blaze had a foal it would mean she would be left without a horse to ride for the whole of the summer holidays. She couldn’t ride Storm–and Blaze couldn’t be ridden yet either, not until the colt was weaned at six months. And that was ages away!

Never mind, Issie thought. She might not be able to ride, but she loved just being with her new baby. She was amazed at how quickly Storm seemed to put his trust in her. Perhaps it was because he had watched Issie and Blaze together and he was simply following his mother’s cues. His mother was the centre of his universe and if his mum loved this girl with the long dark hair, well, then Storm loved her too. Issie could have happily spent her summer goofing around with the colt, playing silly games like the one they were playing today–if it weren’t for Avery getting all serious on her.

“He’s just a cute baby now,” Avery pointed out. “But that foal of yours will be a sixteen-two hands high stallion one day. He’s getting stronger every day, bigger too. That’s why it’s important to start his schooling now, while he’s still small enough for you to be able to handle him. It’s important to teach Nightstorm good manners and respect right from the start.”

And so, under Avery’s expert tuition, Issie began learning how to “imprint” her foal. She followed her instructor’s advice to the letter, being firm but gentle with Storm as she taught him to accept a head collar and then a foal halter, how to walk politely beside her on a lead rein and how to stand perfectly still while she picked up his feet.

Issie would arrive at Winterflood Farm at dawn most mornings so she could spend time with the colt before school. She would bring Storm and Blaze into the stable block and spend the next hour grooming the colt while the mare ate her hard feed. The grooming sessions were a gradual process, part of the colt’s training, teaching him to accept her touch as she ran the brushes over his body. The whole time she worked, Issie would talk softly to Storm, and he would occasionally nicker back to her, turning around to snuffle her softly with his velvety muzzle when she was brushing him, or closing his eyes in pleasure as she scratched him on that sweet spot on his rump.

The weekends were the best. Then she would cycle down to Winterflood Farm at dawn and wouldn’t return home until dinner time. Issie couldn’t really say exactly what she did at the farm all day. Sometimes she just lay in the long grass under the magnolia tree and watched Storm. She especially loved the way he would snort and quiver each time something new crossed his path. She could hardly wait until next week when the school holidays would finally be starting and she could spend all her time with the young horse.

Today, Issie had another new surprise for the colt. As she reached into her pocket and produced a carrot, she watched Storm boggle at it with wide eyes. He hadn’t learnt to eat carrots yet–and he was uncertain what to do next.

“Here you go, Storm,” Issie said softly, extending her hand, the carrot in her palm. Storm had watched his mother eat carrots before, but he’d never been offered one to try himself. He gave it a sniff and his ears pricked forward. It smelt good! He gave Issie’s palm a snuffle, taking a tiny little bite, then he held the chunk of carrot in his mouth, unsure of what to do next. Issie giggled again at the expression on his face, those wide dark brown eyes filled with wonder.

“Here, Blaze, you show him how it’s done!” Issie grinned, giving one to the colt’s mother as well. The mare took the carrot eagerly, crunching it down. Issie was about to dig another carrot out of her jacket pocket and try to feed Storm again when she heard her name being called.

“Issie!” She turned around to see Tom Avery standing on the back porch of the cottage. “Your mum is on the phone. She wants to talk to you.”

Issie sighed. “She probably wants me to come home and tidy my room. She’s been on at me about getting it done before the holidays begin.”

Avery smiled at her. “It is possible that your mother just wants to lay eyes on you for five minutes to make sure you actually exist. You’ve been spending all your time here with Storm.”

Issie paused on the back porch to yank off her boots before padding along the hallway to pick up the phone. “Hi, Mum,” she said brightly. “Listen, if it’s about my room, I know I said I’d tidy it, but I couldn’t find the vacuum cleaner nozzle and…”

Her mother interrupted her. “I’ve just had a phone call from Aidan.” Mrs Brown’s voice was taut and serious. “Issie, I’m afraid it’s bad news. It’s about your aunty Hess…”

Hester had woken at 3 a.m. and, finding herself wide awake, resigned herself to her fate. She switched on her bedside lamp and tried to occupy herself with a crossword puzzle, but found it impossible to concentrate on the page in front of her. Her eyes kept darting nervously away from the newspaper in her hand to her laptop, which sat silently in the dark on her desk. She was waiting for an important email and, until it arrived, sleep was out of the question.

At 6 a.m., as the light came streaming in through the wide bay windows of Blackthorn Manor, she finally heard the sound that she had been longing for and dreading at the same time: the soft “ping” that signalled that an email had arrived in her inbox. She walked across the room and looked at the screen. You’ve got mail! it flashed at her urgently.

Hester held her breath as she clicked the mouse to open the email. She was so sick with nerves, she could barely bring herself to look at it. Please let it be good news, she thought to herself. We need this film so badly!

From the very first line, though, her heart sank.

Dear Hester, it is with great regret that we inform you that all work has been delayed indefinitely on our latest film project…

Hester didn’t bother to read any further. She knew what the rest of the email said. And she knew exactly what it meant–total disaster. She shut the laptop immediately, as if closing it would keep the bad news locked inside where it couldn’t upset her any more. She felt a sudden chill and wrapped her dressing gown tightly around herself as she left her bedroom and walked downstairs.

Padding down to the kitchen in silence with the dogs following at her feet, Hester put the kettle on and began to make coffee. She looked out of the window towards the stables. The horses would be waking up in their stalls and expecting their breakfast. They had no idea about the email–or the bad news it contained.

“Well, my Daredevil Ponies,” Hester said darkly, “I’d like to see what stunt you can pull to get us out of this mess.”

“Hester?”

Hester turned around to find her young stable manager Aidan standing in the doorway. Aidan looked like he hadn’t slept either. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing back his long dark fringe to reveal striking blue eyes that were restless with the worry and stress they had both shared over the past few weeks.

“Has there been any news? Have you heard back from the production company yet?”

Hester nodded solemnly. “It’s all bad I’m afraid. They’ve postponed the movie–indefinitely. We’re out of work again. I just don’t believe it. Three film jobs falling through in a row. We’ve got the luck of the devil hounding us, Aidan. I just wish we had his money too. I was relying on this movie. There’s no way I can keep things going now…”

“Of course you can!” Aidan said. “Hester…I’ve been thinking about it and you don’t have to pay me. I mean, I don’t need much to live on and I’ve got my room and board here. You can forget about my salary until you’ve got some money again. I was thinking maybe we could do a deal with the feed and grain merchants too. I’m sure they’d help you out. If you just told them the situation, and we promised to pay again when things get better…”

Hester smiled back at Aidan. “That’s very kind, dear, but feed merchants aren’t very keen on charity. And in case you haven’t noticed, it’s already been over a month since I last paid you. I don’t expect you to keep working for me for free.” Hester looked at Aidan’s forlorn expression. “I appreciate your offer, I really do. But even if I wasn’t paying your salary, there’s still the mortgage. And the maintenance. This place is so big and so old, it needs an enormous amount of money just to keep it running. And all the horses need shoeing and there are vet’s bills mounting up…” Hester sank down into a kitchen chair and put her head in her hands.

“Aidan, I’ve run out of money. Worse than that, for the first time in my life I’ve run out of ideas.”

There were tears in Hester’s eyes as she turned to face her stable manager. “It’s over. I have no choice…I have to sell Blackthorn Farm.”

Chapter 2

Sell Blackthorn Farm? Issie couldn’t believe it. The farm was her favourite place in the whole world, and she knew how much her aunt loved it too.

She still remembered when Hester first bought the farm, complete with a decaying mansion, high in the hills outside Gisborne. Issie’s mum had pronounced her sister “officially totally bonkers”.

Mrs Brown worked for a law firm and was very practical about boring things like having a proper job. So when Hester broke the news that she was giving up her acting career, buying a rundown farm manor and becoming an animal trainer, Mrs Brown was far from impressed.

The whole farm, especially the manor, needed loads of work to restore it to its former glory. Loads of cash too. Mrs Brown called Blackthorn Farm “Hester’s Money Pit”. Issie’s aunt spent all of her savings restoring the buildings inside and out, including the stable block for her stunt horses.

Eventually, though, even Mrs Brown had to admit that Hester’s hard work and determination had paid off. Hester’s mad menagerie of movie-star animals–pigs, chickens, ducks, goats and especially horses–were considered to be the best in the business. Her Daredevil Ponies had worked on loads of films doing all sorts of stunts.

“It was all going so well!” Issie said. “I can’t understand it. What happened?”

Mrs Brown sighed. “The movie business is unpredictable. Aidan told me they’ve been out of work ever since The Palomino Princess. There was a new project due to start filming this week and it fell through. Now Hester’s been left with mountains of debt and no way to make any money!”

“But she can’t sell the farm!” Issie said. “What about the horses?” Hester had over a dozen stunt horses in the stables at Blackthorn Farm.

There was silence on the phone. And then Mrs Brown finally spoke. “Aidan didn’t say, but I guess they’ll have to be sold as well.”

“Mum! This is awful…” Issie felt close to tears.

“I know,” Mrs Brown said gently. “Aidan is calling back soon. He says he has an idea that he wants to talk to you about, something that might help.”

“I’m coming home now!” Issie hung up the phone. She turned around and saw Avery standing in the hallway behind her.

“I’m guessing she doesn’t just want you to tidy your room then?” he said.

When Issie told Avery the bad news he immediately offered to give her a lift home. Issie gratefully accepted, putting her bike in the back of the Range Rover and clambering into the passenger seat. She spent the ride home in total silence, feeling sick with worry. Aunty Hess couldn’t sell Blackthorn Farm. Things sounded pretty bad, but maybe there was still hope. What was this idea that Aidan wanted to talk to her about?

Issie didn’t have long to wait before she found out. The phone was ringing as she ran in through the front door.

“I’ve got it!” she called, making a mad dash down the hallway to grab the receiver. She was still puffing and trying to catch her breath when she heard Aidan’s voice at the other end of the line.

“Issie? Is that you?” She knew that they were in the middle of a crisis here, but still Issie couldn’t help smiling when she heard Aidan’s voice. She hadn’t seen him in ages and she had missed him. She pictured his face, the thick mop of black hair and the long fringe that hung down, almost hiding those startling blue eyes.

“Issie? Are you there?”

“Sorry, I’m still puffed from running to the phone,” Issie panted.

“That’s OK,” Aidan said. “You don’t need to talk anyway. Just listen. I have a plan to save the farm and I want you to hear it because I’m going to need your help.” He paused. “Issie, I want to start a riding school.”

“What?”

“My mum used to run one years ago when I was little,” Aidan continued, “and I always thought Blackthorn Farm would be the perfect place to have one.”

“But it’s miles from anywhere!” Issie protested.

“I know,” Aidan said, “but school holidays are about to start, right? We could run a school holiday camp with ponies. Kids could come and stay during the week and go home on the weekends and we could give them lessons.”

“We?”

“That’s where you come in,” Aidan said. “I need instructors. Hester and I have too much farmwork to do it all ourselves.”

“But I’m not an instructor!” Issie squeaked.

“You’ve got your B certificate, haven’t you? And don’t Stella and Kate have theirs too? That means you can be junior instructors. Hester can run the school and you’ll be her assistants.”

“Does Hester think it’s a good idea then?” Issie said.

“She will do once I tell her about it,” Aidan said. Issie laughed, but he sounded serious. “You’ve got to help me do this, Issie. It’s our last chance. I don’t want Hester to lose the farm.”

Issie took a deep breath. “When can you come and pick us up?” she said.

Issie needed to talk to Stella and Kate urgently–and she knew exactly where they would be, since today was rally day. She would find them at the pony club.

Some things never changed at Chevalier Point Pony Club. Take Natasha Tucker for instance. You would have thought, after all Issie and Natasha had been through together as stunt riders on the set of The Palomino Princess, that Natasha would have finally wanted to be friends. But no. From the moment the girls had arrived back at pony club this season, Natasha had become her same old super-snobby self. In fact, she was worse than ever. Issie had been really upset at first when Natasha had stopped speaking to her. Now she just tried to avoid her–which wasn’t always easy.

“They must be here somewhere,” Issie said, staring out of the window as her mum manoeuvred her car through the pony-club gates and into the parking area. Issie was so busy looking for her two best friends that she hardly noticed where her mum was driving until it was too late.

“No, Mum! Not here!” Issie shrieked as Mrs Brown pulled to a stop right next to the Tuckers’ flashy blue and silver horse truck.

“What’s wrong?”

“That’s Natasha’s truck!” groaned Issie.

“I thought you and Natasha were friends now?” Mrs Brown said.

“So did I,” Issie sighed, “but it turns out that Natasha doesn’t think so.” Issie didn’t know why Stuck-up Tucker was so against her, although Stella insisted that it was because Natasha was jealous.

“Jealous?” Issie didn’t understand. “Jealous of what?”

“You and Dan!” Stella said. “She has got, like, a huge crush on him and you’re always hanging out with him, which makes her blood boil.”

It was true. Issie and Dan were pretty tight–but big deal! Stella and Kate and Ben were her friends too! Dan was most definitely not her boyfriend. Still, if Natasha wanted to be jealous of Issie’s non-boyfriend then she guessed there wasn’t much she could do about it–except stay out of Natasha’s way.

“Mum? Do we have to park here? Can’t we move?” Issie pleaded again. But it was too late because at that moment, a blonde girl with hair braided into ramrod-straight plaits emerged from behind the corner of the blue and silver horse truck. She was leading an elegant rose-grey gelding.

Issie attempted a cheery greeting. “Hi, Natasha!”

Natasha didn’t smile back. “What are you doing here?” she said flatly. “It’s a rally day and you don’t have a horse to ride, do you?”

“Ummm…I’m looking for Stella and Kate,” Issie faltered. “Have you seen them?”

“Why?” said Natasha. “What do you want them for?” Natasha’s frosty stare made Issie start to babble and before she knew it she was telling Natasha all about Aidan’s phone call.

As soon as she started, though, she wished she had kept her mouth shut. Natasha’s face was like thunder. Even though she would never admit it, it was obvious that in some weird way Natasha was upset that Issie wasn’t asking her to join them this time. Issie sighed. If she had actually asked her, Natasha would certainly have said no. Now, because she hadn’t asked her, Natasha was in a total huff. You just couldn’t win.

“So Aidan is looking for some pony-mad slaves to rope in to do all your aunt’s donkey work yet again,” Natasha harrumphed. “I hope you’re not thinking of asking me this time because I’ve already done dung duty for her once and I’m not planning on falling for that again.”

“It’s not like you were her slave! Aunty Hess paid us to work on The Palomino Princess!” Issie said indignantly.

“What-ever!” said Natasha. “Anyway, I’d rather be riding my own horse than trying to teach some snot-nosed brats how to keep their hands steady. You probably won’t even get a chance to ride. You’ll be too busy mucking out the stalls and grooming all their ponies for them.”

Natasha smirked at this put-down, then made a vague gesture across the club grounds to the far paddock. “Anyway, if you’re looking for Stella and Kate, I think I saw them over by the main arena.” And with that, she turned her back on Issie and began to busy herself with attaching Fabergé’s bell boots.

Issie didn’t care what Stuck-up Tucker said. Maybe the riding school would be a lot of hard work and not much actual riding. But it would still be fun just being near the horses, helping to groom them and look after them. She just hoped that Stella and Kate would both feel the same way. Aidan needed all three of them.

Issie found Stella and Kate with their horses, under the shade of the plane trees by the main arena. The girls had finished riding for the morning and were watching the other riders in the showjumping arena.

Stella was lying on the grass next to Coco, her little chocolate brown mare. She had taken off her riding helmet and her wild red curls were sticking out at funny angles with a flat patch on the top of her head where the helmet had been. Kate was standing next to her holding the reins of her rangy bay Thoroughbred, Toby. She was taller than the other two girls, even though they were all in the same form at Chevalier Point High School. Kate still had her helmet on and she wore her blonde bobbed hair tucked up neatly out of the way in a hairnet–which was actually a rule for club days although Stella clearly hadn’t bothered. Stella wasn’t very big on rules. Issie noticed that she wasn’t even wearing her club tie underneath her navy vest.

“Issie! Ohmygod. What are you doing here?” Stella shrieked when she saw her best friend. She shrieked even louder when Issie told her about Aunt Hester’s riding school.

“Us?” Stella shrieked. “Riding instructors!”

“Uh-huh,” Issie said. “The kids are novices so we’ll just be teaching them the basics. Plus, we’ll have to help Hester to run the camp, doing all the other stuff like cooking meals and grooming the horses. She can’t afford to pay us, but we get room and board. Plus you get to bring Toby and Coco with you and we can hack out across the farm after we finish schooling each day.”

Stella grinned. “Cool. If I can bring Coco then I’m totally there!”

Issie knew it would be easy to convince Stella–she was mad keen on anything horsey. But sensible, practical Kate was a different story.

“Why is Hester running a riding school? I thought she trained movie horses,” Kate said.

“Ummm…the movie business is having a few hiccups,” Issie said. “Anyway, it’s not just a riding school, it’s like a camp for horsey kids like us. The riders come and stay at Blackthorn Farm for three weeks over the school holidays and learn to ride…” She saw Kate’s hesitant expression. “Come on! It will be really good fun…”

“When do we go?”

“We need to spend the week before the kids arrive getting the camp ready. Aidan is coming with the horse truck to pick us up on Tuesday.”

“That’s only two days!” Kate boggled. “Issie, I don’t know if I can. Mum will flip out if I tell her I’m going away for a whole month!”

“Please, Kate!” Issie begged. “I know it’s short notice, but Aunty Hess needs us straightaway.”

Issie had been desperately worried that Kate would say no. Of course she would be put off by the idea of suddenly changing her holiday plans and going all the way to Gisborne for a month. The problem was, she couldn’t imagine going without Kate. Cool, calm Kate was a really good riding instructor; she was brilliant with kids and had loads of patience. All the junior riders at Chevalier Point totally adored her and Kate was always Avery’s first choice to fill in and teach the younger kids if an instructor failed to turn up for a practice session.

Kate looked thoughtful. “Issie, do you think you could get your mum to ask my mum? If your mum has OKed it, she’d have to say yes. Besides, I’ve stayed at Hester’s before and she let me go that time, didn’t she…?” Kate was smiling now. “And if I can take Toby with me, how excellent would that be?”

Issie squealed and threw her arms around Kate.

“I knew you’d say yes! Oh, this is going to be so cool!”

The only thing left to organise now was Storm. Issie would miss him so much, but she was sure that Avery would take good care of the colt and Blaze while she was away. Avery had looked after Blaze when she was in foal and Issie was away working on The Palomino Princess. She knew that Avery would be more than happy to take care of Storm and Blaze while she was gone. She saw him over by the clubhouse and set off to ask him.

“I can’t,” Avery told her. Issie couldn’t believe it.

“Issie, you know that normally I would do it,” Avery continued. “The problem is, I was planning to go to Gisborne myself in a week. It’s the Horse of the Year Show. I’m taking Dan and Ben down to prepare their horses to compete in the showjumping. This is the first time Dan will have a chance to compete on his new horse. We’ve been planning it for ages.”

Of course! How could Issie have forgotten? The Horse of the Year was the biggest event on the equestrian calendar.

Avery looked concerned. “I’m sorry, Issie. I can look after Storm and Blaze for the first week, but then we’re trucking Madonna and Max to Gisborne to start training there and I’m afraid that leaves you stuck–unless you figure out a solution.”

Issie was devastated. This completely ruined their plans. She couldn’t leave Storm behind with no one to check on him and care for him each day. And she couldn’t take the colt with her. There was no way he was old enough to travel all the way to Blackthorn Farm. The trip to Gisborne took most of the day in the horse truck, much too far for a three-month-old colt. There was only one solution, Issie decided. She couldn’t go.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Mrs Brown said when Issie met her back at the car and broke the bad news. “Of course you’re going. It’s all arranged.”

“But, Mum, I can’t leave Storm and Blaze alone.”

“I’ll look after them,” Mrs Brown said confidently.

“You? But, Mum, you don’t even like horses…”

“Oh, for goodness sake, Isadora,” Mrs Brown said. “OK, I think we’re all aware that I’m not exactly Pippa Funnell, but it’s not like you’re asking me to ride at Badminton, is it? I’ve been around them for long enough now and I think it’s perfectly within my capabilities to go and check on your ponies each day. I’ll make sure they’ve got food and water and that Storm hasn’t got himself tangled in the electric fence!”

“Really?”

“Absolutely,” Mrs Brown smiled. “They will be just fine, I promise you.”

Aunt Hester was thrilled that evening when Issie phoned her with the good news. “Aidan’s quite convinced that this riding-school plan will save our bacon–and I certainly hope he’s right,” Hester said. “Is your mum OK about you coming here for the holidays? I haven’t ruined any family plans, have I?”

“Mum’s been great!” Issie said. “And she talked to Mrs Knight and convinced her to let Kate come. She’s even looking after Blaze and Storm while I’m away.”

“Well, well,” Hester said. “It might not be too late for that sister of mine to turn horsey after all.”

“I know!” Issie said. “I can’t believe it’s all organised and we’re really coming. By this time tomorrow we’ll be at Blackthorn Farm.”

Chapter 3

“We’re nearly there!” Issie pressed her face up against the window at the back of the truck cab and mouthed the words through the glass at Stella and Kate.

“What’s she saying?” Kate was frustrated. “I can’t hear her through the glass!”

“Issie!” Stella shouted back. “We can’t hear you! What are you saying?”

The cab of Aunt Hester’s horse truck wasn’t big enough for all the girls to fit up front so it had been decided that Issie would travel in the cab with Aidan while Kate and Stella rode in the back.

The girls didn’t mind riding in the back. The truck was fitted out a bit like a camper van, with a shower, kitchenette and bunk beds, and it was comfy enough travelling on the bench seats. Plus, from where they sat, Stella and Kate could keep an eye on Toby and Coco who were travelling at the very back of the truck in their stalls. The girls could see Issie and Aidan too by peering through the little window with very thick glass at the back of the truck cab.

Issie tapped on the glass and tried again. “I said…We’re nearly there!”

“Oh, give up, Issie!” Aidan grinned. “They’ll figure it out for themselves soon enough. We’re about to reach the turn-off.”

The six-hour drive to Blackthorn Farm had somehow seemed shorter this time. That might have been because she and Aidan hadn’t stopped talking from the moment Issie got into the truck. There was so much for them to catch up on.

“I haven’t seen Nightstorm since he was two days old,” Aidan said, “so that would make him…”

“Three months old!” Issie said. “He’s already almost thirteen hands. Avery reckons he’ll grow to sixteen-two, and he’s so beautiful. He’s losing all his foal fluff and he’s got the most amazing deep bay coat, with a thick black mane and tail and black points. He looks so cute with his white blaze. He’s exactly like his mum in some ways, but he’s kind of like Marius too. He has his own personality though–he’s really smart. I taught him to wear a halter in just one day.”

Aidan pushed his long, dark fringe out of his eyes and looked at Issie. “It must have been hard to leave him.”

“Uh-huh,” Issie said. She didn’t want to tell Aidan that she had been in floods of tears when she said goodbye to the colt last night. She knew it was only a month, but it seemed like such a long time to be away from him when he was so young.

“Well, I’m really glad you came,” Aidan said softly. Then he realised he sounded mushy and tried to make up for it by adding, “Ummm…cos Hester really needs your help.”

Issie smiled. “Hester says you’ve been schooling up a few of the Blackthorn Ponies that we caught when we were here last time.”

The Blackthorn Ponies were a wild herd that roamed the hills around Blackthorn Farm. On her last holiday at the farm Issie and Aidan had saved the herd from a cull. Most of the ponies had been sent to new homes, but Hester had kept a few of them with her at the farm.

“That’s part of the problem,” Aidan continued. “The cost of those extra ponies adds up fast. Hester has thirteen horses now–that’s a lot of farrier bills and hard feed.”

“So the riding school will cover the bills?”

“Uh-huh,” Aidan said. “We won’t make a fortune out of it, but hopefully we’ll make enough to keep the farm going until the next movie job comes along.”

Issie looked worried. “And what if another film job doesn’t come along?”

“Something will turn up soon,” Aidan said reassuringly. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“But, Aidan, what if it’s not fine?”

“Well, if things got really tight, I guess we’d have to sell some of the horses,” said Aidan quietly. “Diablo and Stardust are experienced stunt horses–they’re both worth quite a lot. But if that’s not enough…”

“Then what?”

“Then Hester will have to sell Blackthorn Farm.”

For the first time since they had set off on this trip, silence settled over the truck cab. Issie stared out of the windows at the road ahead and couldn’t help wondering if this would be the last time she would be making this journey.

By the time the horse truck came through the narrow Gisborne gorge and began to travel up through the green cornfields towards the high country, Issie had pulled herself together again. In fact, she was positively filled with resolve.

“You’re right. Things will be fine!” she said firmly, smiling at Aidan. The riding school would make enough money–or they’d think of something else. No matter what, there was no way her aunt was going to lose Blackthorn Farm.

Half an hour later, they reached the crest of a very steep hill. To the right, Issie could see the bright blue sea of the Gisborne coastline, and on the left was farmland and forest. Up ahead she could see a gravel road that veered to the left off the main highway.

“We’re here!”

Aidan turned off down the private road, slowing down a gear as the truck struck gravel. Issie watched as the trees closed in around her and the truck became cocooned in the dense native forest that bordered the sides of the driveway that led to Blackthorn Farm. Low-hanging pohutukawa branches scraped against the roof of the truck.

“I keep telling Hester we need to prune the trees back to get the truck through,” Aidan said as he heard the branches scraping the roof above him. “She just tells me to ‘add it to the endless list of things that need doing’!”

A few more scrapes and bangs later and they had emerged into the bright sunlight once more. Issie’s heart leapt when she saw the familiar sight of the cherry trees, their white and pink petals falling in a snowy carpet on the circular lawn in front of Blackthorn Manor.

The tumbledown mansion was just as she remembered. The enormous two-storeyed country manor must once have been very grand, but was, she noted with fresh eyes, definitely rickety and in desperate need of a new coat of white paint.

“It must have been horrible being here over the past couple of months. You know, with all those movies cancelling at the last minute.”

“Actually,” Aidan said, “this will sound weird, but it’s been great. I mean, yeah, it’s been stressful, especially for Hester. But having no film work has meant that I could spend more time riding. I’ve been doing loads of training sessions on Destiny.”

“Like movie training?” Issie asked.

Aidan shook his head. “Showjumping. Destiny’s a natural jumper. He picks his feet up really cleanly and never knocks the rails.”

“How high have you been jumping?”

“He can do about a metre twenty,” Aidan said. “Easily big enough to put him in the prize money.”

“What prize money?” Issie was confused.

“The Horse of the Year Show,” Aidan said. “I haven’t asked Hester yet, but I was thinking of entering him in the novice horse class.”

“Do you think he can win?”

Aidan nodded. “Yep–and it’s decent prize money too. The Horse of the Year is the richest competition in the whole Southern hemisphere. There’s half a million dollars in prize money. If Destiny and I win the novice class, that’s worth $10,000.”

“$10,000?”

“There’ll be loads of competition though,” Aidan continued. “There are riders from all over the country coming down for it.”

“I know,” Issie said. “Tom is coming down next week. He’s bringing Dan and Ben. I think Dan’s riding in the novice class too.”

Aidan seemed to go very quiet at this news. When he finally spoke his voice sounded quite different. “That guy Dan. You go to pony club with him, right?”

“Uh-huh,” said Issie.

“And he’s, like, a friend of yours?” Issie nodded. Aidan went quiet again for a moment.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

Issie was stunned. She hadn’t been expecting this. “No,” she said, “no, he’s not.” Aidan looked relieved.

“Hester is probably waiting for us down at the stables,” he said. “We’ll drive straight through to unload the horses.” He nosed the truck to the right of the circular lawn so that they swept right past the front door of the manor and headed down the limestone drive towards the stables.

“Issie?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You know what I said before? About me being glad that you were here? Well, I am, Issie. I’m really glad. It seems like ages since I saw you and…” Aidan stopped paying attention to the road and stared at Issie. He was fidgeting nervously with the sleeve of his tartan shirt. “The thing is, I’ve been wanting to ask you something the whole way down here…”

He was suddenly interrupted by Issie who let out a loud shriek. “Stop the truck, Aidan! You’re going to hit him!”

Aidan’s foot instinctively went for the brake as he turned to see what had made Issie shout out. In front of them, galloping straight for their truck, was a pony.

“Aidan!” Issie yelled again.

“I see him!” said Aidan, sounding the horn at the pony.

“What’s wrong with him?” Issie asked. “Why doesn’t he get out of the way?” The pony was still galloping towards them. There was no way the truck could stop in time. They would hit him for sure.

“You’ve got to stop!” Issie shouted.

“I’m trying!” said Aidan. “It’s not that simple–we have horses in the truck to think about!”

Issie realised that he was right. If Aidan slammed the brakes on too quickly then Toby and Coco would be thrown forward violently and might be badly hurt. But if Aidan didn’t brake fast enough then the poor pony that was bearing down on them would be killed.

It felt as if everything was in slow motion as the pony continued to gallop at them and tyres skidded against the limestone gravel as Aidan tried to stop. The horrible squeal of truck brakes filled Issie’s ears, overwhelming her in a rush of memory. She had a sickening sense of déjà vu–as if she was reliving that awful day at Chevalier Point. The day when Mystic had been killed. It was nearly two years ago now that the accident had happened. Her mind always got so confused when she tried to think about that day.

Issie remembered trying to stop the runaway horses from heading out on to the main road, her sense of horror as Mystic had reared up to face the truck. Then she was falling backwards and the tarmac was rushing up to meet her. There had been a sickening crack as her helmet hit the road, and the taste of blood in her mouth before it all went black. After that, she couldn’t recall anything until she woke up hours later in the hospital with her mother calling her name. Her mother told her what had happened. She explained how Mystic had saved Issie by throwing her clear of the truck. Issie still remembered the desperate expression on her mother’s face as she struggled to answer her question. “Mum? What about Mystic? Is Mystic OK?”

It was the very worst moment in Issie’s life. Her first pony Mystic had been her best friend. She had loved him so completely, so deeply. Losing him was like losing her own soul.

Now, suddenly, she was living through it all over again. Only this time she was watching it all from inside the truck, powerless to do anything as she sat waiting for the awful, inevitable moment of collision with the horse in front of her.

Issie shut her eyes and held her breath. She couldn’t bear to look. Instinctively she put her arms on the dashboard to brace herself for the impact. A few seconds later, when the crash didn’t come, she opened her eyes again.

The truck had stopped. The horse was nowhere to be seen and Issie suddenly realised that she was crying and shaking and Aidan was holding her tight in his arms. “It’s OK,” he was saying, “it’s all right. We didn’t hit him.”

“Aidan!” Issie felt like she couldn’t breathe. “We were going to hit him. I was sure we were going to…”

“Shhhh, it’s OK. I know. I thought we were going to hit him too. He got out of the way just in time. Are you OK?” Aidan let go of Issie and sat back in his seat.

“Uh-huh.” Issie dried her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“That was close, huh?”

“Where did that horse come from?” Issie wondered. “He seemed to come out of nowhere.”

“He must have jumped out of his paddock again.” Aidan shook his head. “That’s the third time this week. He might have escaped the truck, but I’m pretty sure that this time Hester is going to kill him!”

“You mean he’s done this before?”

“Yeah. Last time he jumped out, he managed to get into the garden shed and ate all of the dog biscuits. He is totally crazy, that pony. Hester is so fed up with him. She can’t afford to put up deer fences to keep him in–and, knowing Comet, he’d probably jump over them anyway!”

“Comet?” Issie said.

“Uh-huh,” Aidan replied. “He’s one of the Blackthorn Ponies that Hester decided to keep. Although I think she’s been regretting the decision ever since.”

Just as he said this, Issie saw her aunt emerge from the rear of Blackthorn Manor. She had a makeshift lead rope in her hands that she had made out of the belt from her dress. She was using it to lead a cheeky-looking skewbald. The pony, for he was just a pony and couldn’t have been more than fourteen-two hands, was skipping merrily at her side. He didn’t seem to notice or care that Hester was looking at him with a murderous expression. The skewbald looked so pleased with himself that, despite the heart attack he had just given her, Issie couldn’t help but immediately have a soft spot for him.

“So that’s Comet?”

“The one and only,” Aidan said darkly. “The skewbald that no paddock can hold.”

As Comet came closer, Issie could see that he was actually rather pretty. The pony was a chestnut with white patches, and he had white socks and a broad, white stripe down his nose. Comet was sturdy and muscular, like all wild Gisborne hill ponies. He had solid legs with thick cannon bones, strong shoulders and powerful hindquarters made for jumping–a fact which he was clearly using to his advantage to get out of the paddock whenever he liked. The pony’s conformation was powerful, but it was his eyes that had Issie totally bewitched. Those eyes! They burnt with an intensity that she hadn’t seen before in any horse.

Comet seemed thrilled that everyone was paying him so much attention. As he danced along at Hester’s side, Issie could have sworn he had the attitude of a champion racehorse. In his mind, this pony wasn’t little at all. He was a colossus.

“Comet! Stand still, naughty pony!” Hester growled. Then she turned to Issie and Aidan. “Isadora! Lovely to see you. I take it you’ve already met Comet?”

“You could say that,” Issie smiled.

“Well, my favourite niece, as you can see, this place hasn’t changed a bit–it’s still completely mad!” Hester said. “Welcome back to Blackthorn Farm.”

Chapter 4

“You mean we were nearly hit by a comet?” Stella said. She and Kate had emerged from the truck and were totally confused by what had just happened.

“No,” Issie giggled. “We nearly hit him. Comet is a horse!” She gestured towards the skewbald pony who was still skipping about as Aunt Hester tried to hold him with the belt off her dress.

“He escaped on to the driveway and we nearly ran him over,” Aidan explained.

“Are Toby and Coco OK?” Hester asked.

“They’re both fine,” Stella said. “They scrambled a bit when the truck stopped suddenly, but they didn’t fall over or anything.”

“Let’s get them unloaded,” Kate suggested. “We can check them over properly in the loose box once we take off their floating bandages.”

Since the truck had been forced to stop halfway down the driveway it seemed easier to simply unload the horses there and walk them the rest of the way.

Toby and Coco came down the ramp with their ears pricked and their heads held high, as horses do whenever they arrive somewhere new. When he saw them Comet gave a whinny of greeting. His whole body reverberated as his clarion call rang out, shaking with a neigh of excitement at having new horses for company.

Hester glared at him. “Oh, do behave yourself, Comet! You really are the most troublesome pony.” She turned to the girls. “I don’t want you to think they’re all this bad. Most of the Blackthorn Ponies we have here are very well schooled. I’ve got several new horses that are perfect learners’ ponies, ideal for the riding school. Come on, let’s put your horses away and then you can meet some of them.”

The stable block at Blackthorn Farm was built from the same white-painted weatherboards as the manor. Inside it was like a giant barn, with bales of hay stacked up in one corner, a storage room for tack and two rows of loose boxes. On the door of each loose box a horse’s head was carved into the honey-coloured wood above a plaque with the horse’s name inscribed on it.

Issie pushed open the vast wooden sliding door and walked inside, followed by Stella and Kate leading Coco and Toby, and Aunt Hester, still with her makeshift dress-belt halter, hanging on to Comet.

“You can put your horses in the first two boxes on the left there, girls,” Hester said.

“What about Comet?” asked Issie.

“I don’t usually box him,” Hester said. “Blackthorn Ponies don’t really like it in the stable as a rule. They prefer to graze out. But I might have to make an exception in Comet’s case–at least if he’s in a loose box he won’t be able to jump out!”

Hester popped Comet in the box next to Coco’s. The stall was freshly mucked out with clean straw on the floor and water in the trough. Comet gave his new home a rather bored once-over and then craned his neck desperately over the Dutch door, whinnying to get attention. Coco stuck her head out of her stall and returned his call.

“Shhh! Coco!” Stella said, giggling. “He’s a naughty pony. Don’t encourage him!”

As they walked down the rows of loose boxes the girls could see familiar faces poking out of the top of each stall door. First in the row were the three palominos, Paris, Nicole and Stardust, the mares they had ridden when they were working as stunt riders on The Palomino Princess. Issie stopped and fed a carrot to Stardust, running a hand through her silver-white mane, admiring the rich treacle sheen of her coat. “Remember me, girl?” she asked softly.

Her question was answered by a nicker from the stall next door as a black and white face emerged. “Diablo!” Issie grinned at him. Diablo was Aunt Hester’s favourite stunt horse, a piebald Quarter Horse that could do all sorts of tricks, including playing dead when a gun was fired–a trick that had almost scared Issie and her friends out of their wits the last time they were at Blackthorn Farm.

In the stall next to Diablo was the enormous draught horse Dolomite. The big bay with the white blaze stood at nearly sixteen-three hands, while, in the stall right next to him, was Titan, the dinky miniature pony who couldn’t have been more than ten hands high!

“Dolly and Titan obviously aren’t any use as riding-school ponies,” Hester said. “You’d need a ladder to mount Dolly.”

“What about Titan?” Stella asked. “Couldn’t one of the little kids ride on him?”

Hester shook her head. “Titan is a true miniature, a Falabella. They’re not really bred as riding ponies; they can only handle very light weights on their back–although he can tow a cart.”

In the stall next to Titan was a dark brown pony who was around thirteen hands high. “This is Molly, one of my new ones,” Hester said. “She’s a Blackthorn Pony that I’ve been schooling up. Very well mannered–the perfect learner’s pony.”

“How many ponies will you need?” asked Issie.

“That depends on how many students enroll,” Hester said. “The ad has only been up on the PONY Magazine website for a few days and we already have five keen pupils lined up.”

“Do any of them actually know anything about riding?” Kate asked Hester.

“The twins, Tina and Trisha, have experience,” said Hester. “They’re ten years old and they’ve been having weekly lessons since they turned eight apparently. I was planning to put them on Paris and Nicole. They’ll be perfect for more advanced riders. The youngest rider so far is Kitty–she’s eight and mad keen on ponies according to her mum, although her brother George, who is ten, sounds like a handful. Both of them have had riding lessons, so they know the basics.”

“Which ponies will you put Kitty and George on?” asked Issie.

“I’m not sure about George, but I was thinking that Kitty could ride Timmy, the sweet chestnut with the star on his forehead. He’s a Blackthorn Pony too, no vices and thoroughly bombproof,” Hester said. “The oldest girl is eleven. Her name is Kelly-Anne and she insists she’s a bit of an expert–but she seems utterly green to me, if you know what I mean. I’m going to put her on Julian. He’s a bit of a plodder, quite safe for an absolute beginner.”

Issie and Stella exchanged nervous glances. Up until now the idea of running a riding school had seemed like fun. But now that they were here it all seemed kind of daunting. Next Monday they would have actual pupils arriving. And some of the riders weren’t much younger than they were. What would they say when they saw that their instructors were just a bunch of kids?

“I thought you three could draw up a lesson plan and a timetable this afternoon, then we’ve got time to iron out the kinks during the week before the riders arrive,” Hester continued.

“Lesson plan?” Stella squeaked. “Won’t you be doing that? I mean, we won’t actually be taking the lessons all by ourselves, will we?”

Hester shook her head. “I’m not expecting you to do everything by yourselves. But it’s good to have a game plan so you can cope without me. Aidan and I have a lot of work to do just keeping the farm running so it’s possible you’ll be left alone in charge at least some of the time.” Hester noticed the terrified looks on the three girls’ faces. “Something wrong?”

“Ummm…no…” Issie managed.

“Good!” Hester said brightly. “Well, I think that’s enough of a tour of the stables for today. You can meet the rest of the ponies later. Shall we get back up to the house and you can unpack your things? You’ve all got your usual rooms. I hope that’s OK?”

Issie’s bedroom was the first room off the landing at the top of the grand wooden staircase. She threw her bags down on the enormous four-poster bed and then threw herself down next to them. The huge room was papered with antique horsey wallpaper and hanging above the fireplace was an enormous oil painting of Avignon, Aunt Hester’s great grey Warmblood stallion. In the portrait Avignon was running free, his beautiful silver mane flowing in the wind. Issie lay on the bed and gazed up at the painting, taking in the beauty of the horse, the arch of his neck, the flare of his nostrils, the deep, dark eyes staring back at her.

“All settled in?” Aidan’s voice startled her. He was standing in the doorway holding a duffel bag. “I’m moving into the last room down the end of the hall.”

Issie was confused. “Why aren’t you in your cottage down by the stables?”

“It made sense to move out,” Aidan said matter-of-factly “We needed somewhere to put all the kids so we turned the cottage into a sort of dormitory. I’m staying here in the main house until they leave.” He stepped into Issie’s room and shut the door conspiratorially behind him. “Hey,” he said in a low, stagey whisper, “we need to have a secret meeting.”

“What about?”

“Dinner,” he said. “I want to sort out a roster before the kids get here. We need to stop Hester spending too much time in the kitchen–for obvious reasons!”

Aidan was right. Issie’s aunt might be able to run a riding school. But it was an entirely different matter to feed a riding school. Hester was, quite possibly, the world’s worst cook. Her dinners usually ended up as blackened, inedible mounds in the oven. Her baking was so bad that even Butch, the resident farm pig, turned his nose up at it. Unfortunately Hester had already been in the kitchen that very morning. When the girls came downstairs after unpacking they found her waiting for them with a plate of scones for afternoon tea. They were like bricks with raisins in them.

Stella picked one up and took a bite. She instantly regretted it. “Ow, I fink oif broken a twooth!”

“There is no way she’s cooking dinner,” Issie muttered to Aidan as she choked down a mouthful of her scone.

“We’ll sort out that roster,” Aidan agreed.

Cooking and cleaning rosters, riding timetables, lesson plans. There was lots to be prepared before the new pupils arrived. “Can’t we do it all later?” Stella grumbled as they sat down at the kitchen table with pens and sheets of paper. “I mean, it’s only Tuesday. We have nearly a week to get all this done and it’s a lovely sunny afternoon and we’ve been cooped up in the truck all day. I want to go riding.”

“We didn’t come here for a holiday!” Kate said. “We’ve got work to do. Don’t you want to be organised when the riders arrive on Monday?”

Hester surprised everyone by agreeing with Stella. “We could work on the rosters and timetables tonight,” she suggested, “and I’ve got a stable full of riding-school ponies who could all do with some exercise.” She looked at her watch. “If we get down there now, there’s enough time for a quick bit of schooling in the arena before dinner.”

Nobody needed convincing. The girls dashed up to their rooms to get their jodhpurs on while Aidan and Hester went ahead to the stables to get the ponies ready.

“I saw the cutest little grey pony grazing next to the arena when we arrived. I wonder if I can try that one?” Stella said.

“I like the chestnut one with the star on his forehead and the three white socks,” Kate said. “What’s his name again?”

“His name is Timmy And your ankles will drag on the ground if you ride him!” Issie giggled. “Hester will probably put you on one of the palominos.”

Issie knew which horse she would be getting. Hester was bound to put her on Stardust, after they had bonded so well on the set of The Palomino Princess.

As they neared the stables it looked like Issie was right. When Aidan emerged from the stalls he had Stardust all saddled up and her reins in his right hand. It seemed like a lifetime since Issie had ridden the pretty palomino. She felt a shiver of anticipation as she strode towards the mare. “Hey, girl.” Issie reached out a hand to stroke her glossy, treacle-coloured neck. She was about to take the reins from Aidan when she heard her Aunt Hester’s voice behind her.

“Issie! There you are! Come with me. I’ve got your horse ready too.”

Issie was confused. “But I thought I’d be riding Stardust, Aunty Hess?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I thought I told you,” Hester said. “Aidan is on Stardust today. I was hoping you would take on a new mount that really needs the work.”

“What?”

“The skewbald troublemaker,” Hester said, gesturing to the last stall in the loose-box row. “I want you to ride Comet.”

As if on cue at the mention of his name, Comet thrust his chestnut and white face over the Dutch door and let out a cheeky whinny. Issie looked suspiciously at the skewbald pony.

“He needs riding. He gets so frightfully bored standing in the loose box,” Hester said. “It’s his own fault of course. If he wasn’t such a troublemaker, I’d let him back out to graze with the others…I mean, you can’t leave him in the paddock because he jumps out and you can’t leave him in the loose box because he tries to destroy it.”

As if to confirm this, Comet began banging and scraping the bottom half of the Dutch door with his hoof. Get me out of here! he seemed to be saying.

“Naughty Comet! Stop that!” Issie said firmly. She grabbed the skewbald by the reins, unbolted the stall door and led him out into the yard.

Hester had already tacked him up for her and Issie noticed that Comet looked quite different in a saddle and bridle. He was one of those skewbalds with vigorous splashes of white all over his withers and rump. They trickled down his legs finishing up with four white socks–a bit like someone had spilt a can of white paint over him. Even his chestnut tail looked like it had been streaked with a paintbrush.

Once you put a saddle on, though, Comet’s colouring was less obvious. The saddle blanket completely covered up the white marks on his withers and back. He almost looked like an ordinary chestnut with four white socks, except when you looked from the other side you could see a big splodge of white on his hindquarters that looked a bit like a map of India.

As Issie led Comet out into the yard and over to the mounting block the pony danced along beside her, lifting his legs up in a high-stepping trot. When he was sure that everyone was watching him he raised his head and gave a high-spirited nicker, calling out to the other ponies.

“Comet! Stop being such a show-off!” The skewbald skipped about on the spot as Issie tried to steady him long enough to put her foot in the stirrup.

Issie knew she needed to be firm with this pony. Comet was green and he had shocking bad manners. Ponies were supposed to walk quietly beside you, not skip about. But she didn’t have the heart to be too tough on him. There was something about his grand attitude and silly antics that just made her want to giggle. Comet strutted about as if he was a superstar instead of just a little skewbald gelding in the paddock at Hester’s house. Besides, Issie was beginning to realise that Comet didn’t respond well to authority. He was a stroppy pony and if she wanted to bond with him, she was going to have to do things his way.

“Steady, Comet!” Issie gave up on using the mounting block as the pony kept dancing around her. As Comet circled she moved swiftly with him, slipping her foot into the stirrup and, before the pony even knew what was happening, she was bouncing up into the saddle and had landed lightly on his back. “Good boy!”

There is that moment when you sit on a horse for the very first time and you ask yourself, How does it feel up here? Are we right for each other? Do we click? You can never really know for sure straightaway. It takes a long time to get to know a horse. But in those first minutes in the saddle, as you ask them to walk, trot and canter for the first time, you get an inkling, almost like a sixth sense that tells you whether you really belong together.

Right now, Issie didn’t realise it but she was unconsciously, instinctively, feeling this new horse out. She adjusted her position and felt the sturdiness of Comet’s stocky frame, compact and solid underneath her. He was only fourteen-two, which meant that officially he qualified as a pony, not a hack, and yet Issie could sense that he had the attitude of a much larger horse.

As she gathered Comet up and asked him to step forward into a walk and then a trot, Issie felt almost instantly that he was exactly the sort of horse she liked–responsive and peppy. Issie only had to give him the lightest touch with her legs to get him moving.

“Take him on a lap or two around the arena to get used to his paces,” Hester advised her. Issie nodded and asked Comet to trot. He did so immediately, his stride covering the ground in a floating trot with his hocks coming underneath him nicely. His canter too was bouncy and active. Issie felt a thrill of excitement tingle up her spine.

“He’s got lovely paces, Aunty Hess!”

Hester smiled. “He’s still green, but he has loads of potential. I think you’ll get on famously.”

As if to confirm this, Comet raised his head and let out another loud whinny, calling out to the other horses as if to say, “Look at me!” Issie laughed and gave Comet a slappy pat on his glossy neck.

“Well, Comet already thinks he’s famous–I guess that’s a good start.”

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