by Stacy Gregg
As she cycled along the backstreets that led from her house to the pony club, she began to wonder if what she was doing wasn’t a little mad. Perhaps Annabel’s stirrup leather had really been an accident after all. And was she sure that someone had tampered with Blaze’s feed? Even if Araminta really had tried to sabotage the team, that didn’t mean she would be back tonight. Issie was beginning to have real doubts about her plan. Then, as she parked her bike up by the pony-club gate, she saw a silvery shadow in the nearest paddock and heard a low whinny calling out to her. Mystic was here!
The little grey came closer, tossing his mane and snorting. He seemed distracted and nervous, Issie thought, and she realised that she had made the right decision to come to the pony club tonight. If Mystic was acting like this then something had to be wrong. The grey gelding trotted over to Issie, snorting and quivering with tension.
“Easy, boy” she soothed, although she knew that she was just as nervous as he was, and she was saying this mostly to calm herself down. Issie peered out into the blackness of the horizon. She could just make out the shapes of the horses grazing in the far paddock.
“Mystic, you go keep close to them,” she whispered to her horse. “Look after Blaze. I’ll be all right here by myself.”
Mystic seemed to understand her instructions. He wheeled about instantly and cantered off, his head held high. Issie watched him blurring into the shadows as he reached the other horses. She heard another horse, perhaps it was Blaze, calling back to him, her soft whinny carrying clearly in the crisp night air.
Issie looked back at her bike. It was too obvious to leave it here leaning up against the fence. She didn’t want anyone to know that she was already here. But it was too heavy to lift over the fence and she didn’t have a key to the paddock gate. She would have to hide it somewhere.
She decided to shove it into the hedge on the other side of the gravel driveway by the club gates. It turned out this wasn’t as easy as she thought, but eventually she found a gap and with a little effort she managed to wedge the bike into the hole. She hunted around and found a couple of branches to prop in front of it to hide it completely. Satisfied with her work, she walked back to the pony-club gate, climbed the rungs, swung herself over and headed for the clubroom.
She found her way to the tack room easily in the dark without even having to resort to the torch in her backpack. I’ve been sneaking about here so often I can find my way in the dark, Issie thought to herself. She found the tack room key easily this time too and opened the door.
It was pitch black inside and she reached for her torch. She didn’t want to switch the light on in case someone saw it and got frightened off. She turned on her torch briefly to make sure that she’d locked the door again after herself. Then, once she was inside with the door shut behind her, she turned it on one more time to find a spot just behind the saddle horses where she could snuggle down in her blanket and take out her Thermos of soup for a midnight feast while she waited.
It wasn’t the most fun way to spend an evening, Issie thought as she tried to get comfy, sitting here alone in the pitch dark, in a creaky old tack room. She curled up under the blanket for a bit, and then got bored and filled herself a cup of soup. Luckily her mum had just made a big pot of homemade chicken and vegetable that night, which was her favourite. She wished she had packed some juice and maybe a chocolate bar as well. She put the lid back on the Thermos and settled down to wait.
Issie must have dozed off so she wasn’t sure what time it was when she heard the sound of footsteps outside the tack-room door. The noise instantly woke her up and she panicked, fumbling around underneath the blankets to find her torch.
There was the sound of keys in the lock. She threw the blanket off and crouched down low behind the saddle horses and waited.
The door opened. Issie looked up between the saddles and saw the figure of a woman, her long hair silhouetted against the night sky. The woman reached up for the light switch and just as she did, Issie stood up from behind the saddle horse. As the lights came on there was a moment of stunned silence as Issie finally stared the mystery in the face.
“It’s you…But why…?” Issie found herself too dumbstruck to finish her sentence. She looked at the dark-haired figure standing opposite her. Not a woman, as she had thought, but a young girl, just like her. It was Morgan Chatswood-Smith.
Chapter 15
Issie couldn’t believe it! Morgan? Illuminated by the tack-room light, Morgan stood in the doorway. When she saw Issie she froze to the spot in shock. Then her face turned dark with anger and she glared at Issie. It was the same look Morgan had given her when Avery had thrown her off the team in favour of Issie.
Issie’s face looked just as shocked as Morgan’s at first. She had been expecting Araminta to walk through the door. After Araminta’s furious outburst during training, Issie had been convinced that she was the one responsible for sabotaging Annabel and trying to poison Blaze.
Issie realised now that she had been thinking about this all wrong. She began to play back the events of the past months in her mind. When Francoise had said she saw a woman with dark hair in the tack room that night, Issie had assumed the woman was Araminta but it could easily have been Morgan. And then there was Blaze’s poisoned feed. Of course! When Issie talked to Morgan at team training she had instantly assumed that Blaze wasn’t there because she was sick. She must have thought that her poisoned horse feed was the reason for Blaze being off the team, Issie thought.
It was all making sense now. “Have you been doing all of this, Morgan?” Issie asked. “Was that you in the tack room that night? Did you cut Annabel’s stirrup leather? Poison Blaze’s feed?”
Morgan nodded.
“But why?” Issie asked. “Morgan, why? Do you really hate us all that much? You could have killed Annabel! You could have hurt Blaze too!”
As Issie said this, the dark expression on Morgan’s face crumpled into one of total misery and she burst into tears. “Stop saying that! I know that now! I never meant to do it. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I just wanted to ride in the Interclub so badly. All I could think about was making the team…”
Issie shook her head. “But why hurt Annabel? What did she ever do to you?” she asked.
Morgan’s voice was shaky. “I never meant to. I thought if Annabel couldn’t ride then Avery would put me in the team. I just wanted her to get a fright. I never thought she’d end up in hospital. And then, after all that, Avery didn’t put me in the team anyway. He picked stupid old Natasha instead.
“Anyway, I decided that if one of the horses got sick then he wouldn’t have any choice—he would have to make me a team member. I was the only reserve left. So I put the selenium in the feed. When Blaze didn’t turn up for training that day I thought she must have been sick because of what I did to the horse feed, and then I got worried that maybe Blaze was really sick and I didn’t mean to hurt her and it was all my fault and the whole thing was such a mess, but it was too late by then and I couldn’t stop it…”
Morgan’s sobbing made it hard for her to speak.
“Hey, calm down. It’s OK,” Issie said. “I get it. You didn’t mean to do it. Things got out of control. But I just don’t understand. Why would anyone want to be in the team that badly?”
Morgan pushed her dark hair back off her face and wiped her eyes roughly with the sleeve of her jumper. “Of course you don’t understand!” she snapped at Issie. “You don’t have your mum pushing you all the time, telling you that you have to be a great rider like she was.”
She took a deep breath, trying to calm down before she spoke. “Do you have any idea what it’s like for me being the daughter of ‘famous rider’ Araminta Chatswood-Smith? It’s awful! All I ever hear about is how great my mum was and what a star she was in her day. No one ever really wants to know me—they just want to talk about her.” Morgan took another deep, quivery breath. She was still crying though and big tears rolled down her cheeks as she spoke.
Morgan looked down at her boots. Her voice turned very quiet now. “All I ever wanted was to be on the team. I just wanted to make her proud of me.”
There was a long time where neither girl spoke and all that could be heard was Morgan blowing her nose and making little damp sniffy noises as she tried to stop crying. And then Issie spoke. “You realise that Annabel is in hospital because of you?” she said. “And Blaze could have been really sick too if she’d eaten that horse feed.”
Morgan nodded. “I know. I am so sorry. I never wanted to hurt Annabel or Blaze. I just got so, well, obsessed about winning and making the team. I went a little crazy.”
“Why did you come here tonight?” Issie asked.
“I was going to steal some of the gear,” Morgan said. “I figured if you couldn’t find your saddles and stuff then you wouldn’t be able to ride and Avery would have to put me back in the team at the last minute.”
Issie nodded. Despite everything that Morgan had done, as they stood there together in the tack room it was hard not to feel sympathy for her. All she had wanted to do was to please her mother, to live up to her expectations. Maybe, Issie realised, having a horsy family wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
“I’m really sorry, Morgan, honestly,” Issie said, “but I have no choice.” She reached into her backpack and pulled out her mobile phone.
“Are you calling the police?” Morgan snuffled miserably.
“No, I’m afraid it’s worse than that,” Issie said. “I’m calling your mother.”
When Araminta Chatswood-Smith arrived at the pony club that night she found the two girls in the tack room cuddled up under the blanket together, sipping the last of Issie’s soup and talking about ponies. Morgan had even been laughing at one of Issie’s stories, but now with the arrival of her mother the smile quickly left her face. “What is going on here?” Araminta demanded. “What are you both doing here in the middle of the night?”
“What will I tell her?” Morgan whispered to Issie as her mother stood in the doorway glowering at her.
“Tell her the truth,” Issie whispered back, giving Morgan’s hand a squeeze in support.
Morgan reluctantly got up from behind the saddle horses. “Mum,” she said, “I…I…need to tell you something…”
As Morgan unfolded the whole sorry story, her mother sat quietly, her mouth set in a grim line, her arms folded across her chest. She didn’t interrupt or ask any questions as her daughter spoke, she just listened. When Morgan had finally finished—she was in tears again by this time—Araminta Chatswood-Smith unfolded her arms and wrapped them tightly around her daughter in a huge bear hug.
“Oh, Morgan, what have you done?” she said softly. She kept her daughter in a tight embrace, pressing her cheek hard against her dark hair as Morgan snuffled and wept in her arms.
She sat like that for a moment, thinking carefully before she spoke again. “You are in a lot of trouble. You know that, don’t you? What you did was a terrible, terrible thing. What were you thinking?”
“I just wanted you to be proud of me,” Morgan muttered under her breath.
“Proud?” Araminta boggled. “For pity’s sake!” Then she saw the look on Morgan’s face and the tears streaming down her cheeks and she took a deep breath before she spoke again. “This is my fault as much as it is yours. I never thought about how hard I was pushing you. I thought I was helping you, but I can see now that I was putting too much pressure on you.”
She reached out her hand and wiped away the tears on Morgan’s cheek. “You don’t have to be a famous rider to make me proud. You don’t have to make the team and you don’t have to win. I know you are not me—and you don’t have to be. You just have to do your best and be happy. OK?”
Morgan nodded.
Araminta sighed. “I know it can’t be easy being my daughter. But it was the same for me too, you know, when I was growing up. Once I became a famous rider, horses were suddenly a serious business. All I ever cared about was winning. I was so focused for so long that I guess I forgot that horses were supposed to be fun.” She smiled down at Morgan. “Maybe you can help me remember?”
Morgan smiled back up at her mother. “Thanks, Mum. I’m so sorry.”
“I think you owe a few other people more than just an apology” Araminta said. “What you did to Annabel was a terrible thing. You’ll have to go and see her and her parents and tell them everything. If they wish to refer the matter on to the police, well, we’ll have to deal with that. They have every right to be furious after what happened.
“And,” she sighed again, “I need to do some apologising too. Poor Tom. I was completely out of line when I yelled at him at the team training the other day.”
She turned to Issie now, who was quietly packing her Thermos, blanket and torch back into her backpack for the trip home. “Isadora, my daughter and I owe you an apology too, for the dreadful business with the horse feed.”
Morgan nodded. “I’m so sorry, Issie. When I think that I could have hurt Blaze I feel so awful…”
Issie stopped packing her backpack. “Honestly, it’s OK,” she said. “I think I do understand now, Morgan—and I’m just glad it’s all over.” She smiled at Morgan. “You want to be friends?” she asked.
Morgan looked so grateful that Issie thought she was going to burst into tears all over again. She flung her arms around Issie and gave her the hugest hug. “Yes, thank you,” she whispered. “Friends for ever!”
At the secret meeting of the pony-club gang the next night, Issie told the others everything that had happened. She had to tell the story several times because Stella kept interrupting. “Honestly! Why would anyone want to be in the team that badly?”
“Oh, come on, Stella!” Kate said. “Remember how you reacted that time when you thought you hadn’t made the team?”
Stella nodded. “Yeah, but I didn’t go around doing crazy stuff.”
“She’s not crazy,” Issie said. “She just got a bit freaked out because her mum was pushing her so hard and she made a few bad calls.”
“One of which landed Annabel in hospital,” pointed out Kate.
“Has Morgan spoken to Annabel yet?” asked Dan.
Issie nodded. “Her mum took her around to Annabel’s house today and Morgan had to apologise to Annabel and Mr and Mrs Willets. They were really angry But Mr Willets said it meant a lot that Morgan had come forward herself and been brave enough to tell them. Morgan offered to help look after Eddie too until Annabel got better, and Araminta told Annabel that she would give her private lessons every week for the rest of the year to help make up for what Morgan had done.”
“Wow,” Stella grinned, “private lessons with Araminta Chatswood-Smith! I wish I had broken my leg!”
The others all glared at her and Stella stopped grinning. “Well, you know what I mean,” she grumbled.
“Anyway, it’s all cleared up now,” Kate said. “And just as well. There are only two days left before we have to ride for the Interclub shield.”
“Oh, who cares about that dumb old Shield now,” Stella said. “Haven’t we all learnt our lesson from this? It’s stupid to get all worked up about a silly old competition. In fact,” Stella said grandly, “I don’t even care if we win the Interclub any more.”
The whole room went quiet and everyone looked at Stella completely stunned.
“Just joking!” she laughed. “Come on! We’ve got time tonight for a few more practice runs with the bending relay.
Last one to their pony has to pick up all the flags for the flag race!” And she raced for the clubroom door with the others tearing after her, all of them pushing and giggling as they tried to be the first ones to get there.
Chapter 16
On the morning of the Interclub Shield, the girls watched as the teams arrived at the showgrounds, turned out in their club colours.
“That’s Westhaven!” Kate said, pointing to a rider on a striking chestnut wearing a gold jersey and black tie. “And there’s Mornington,” she said, nodding towards a young girl on a grey dressed in a sky blue jumper and white tie. Red with a black tie was St Johns and there were purple jerseys with gold for Garnet Ridge.
“Ughh, those poor riders at Garnet Ridge. The purple jumpers they have to wear are awful.” Stella pulled a face. “I think I like the Marsh Fields colours the best.”
“Traitor!” laughed Kate.
“I am not!” said Stella. “It’s just that emerald green with a light green tie would be really good with my hair.”
“Actually Blaze would look really good with the Marsh Fields colours too,” Issie said. “Maybe we should all swap teams now!”
“I’m sure Avery would be thrilled,” said Kate. “Swapping teams to join our archrivals just because you like their colours better!”
“Oh, well, too late to change anyway, even if we wanted to.” Stella checked her watch. “Rider on the flat starts soon and Avery told us all to meet him at exactly ten minutes to nine for the team briefing—which is now!”
Signs had been erected in the showgrounds so that each team had a designated warm-up area. Next to the sign marked CHEVALIER POINT, Avery was busily gathering his squad together. Issie looked at the rest of her team admiringly. They had all spent hours prepping their horses, getting up way before dawn to plait manes and tails, whiten socks and oil hooves. The chestnuts, browns and bays—Blaze, Coco, Toby and Max—all had chequerboard patterns brushed perfectly on to their rumps to show off their shiny coats. Dan was groaning about how much effort it had taken to get all of the green grass stains off Kismit’s pale grey hocks.