by Stacy Gregg
Issie stood up and walked over to let her mother in, before flopping back down, rather over-dramatically, with her face in the duvet again.
“It’s not fair. Why do I have to go to Aunty Hester’s?” She gave a muffled groan from beneath the blankets.
“Sweetie, I really do think it’s the best idea for everyone – especially Aunty Hess,” Mrs Brown said.
“It would be a huge favour to her if you helped out until her leg is better. Hess has a big movie coming up. They start filming in a couple of months and she has dozens of animals that need to be trained. She has so much work to do she could really use an extra pair of hands…”
“But I had plans!” Issie said. “The dressage series is on and Blaze is going so well. I can’t just leave her and go away to the farm.”
Mrs Brown suddenly perked up. “Hey! I tell you what – how about if you could take Blaze with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You could take Blaze to Aunty Hester’s. I could call Aidan and ask him to bring the horse truck when he comes to pick you up on Wednesday and then you can take Blaze with you. I’m sure Hess won’t mind. One more horse on that enormous farm of hers won’t make the slightest difference.”
Issie sat up. “Do you mean it? Could Blaze really come too?”
“I don’t see why not,” Mrs Brown said. She was clearly very pleased with herself for coming up with the idea. “You know what? I’m going to give Hess a call now and ask her!”
Mrs Brown trotted off down the stairs and a moment later Issie could hear her on the phone chatting and laughing happily with her sister.
If I could take Blaze with me, Issie thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
Issie really liked her aunt. For starters, Hester was horsy through and through. Issie always thought it was so unfair that her own mother hated horses while her Aunt Hess adored them. If Aunt Hester had been her mother then she would have got a pony straight away. Instead she had to beg for years before her mum finally gave in and bought Mystic.
Mrs Brown couldn’t understand why Issie loved horses so much. “It must be genetic. Your aunt was exactly the same when she was your age,” Mrs Brown had told Issie on more than one occasion. “Hess was totally horse-mad! And now look at her – she has seven horses, a trained pig, a goat, several sheep, those nuisance blasted dogs and heaven knows what else on that crazy farm of hers!”
Hester worked as an animal trainer for the movies. Three years ago she decided to set up her own business, and so she bought Blackthorn Farm, where she kept and trained her menagerie of four-legged movie stars.
Blackthorn Farm was a rambling old country manor, high up in the hills near Gisborne. The manor and grounds had once been quite grand, apparently, but Hester had got the place for very little because it had become quite rundown.
Blackthorn Manor was huge – it had eleven bedrooms – but Hester lived there alone. She had been married three times – “All of them wonderful weddings!” she told Issie – but she had never had any children of her own. She called Issie her “favourite niece” which was a bit of a joke between the two of them since Issie was in fact her only niece.
Hester ran the farm herself with help from her young stable manager, Aidan. With her leg in plaster and all those animals to look after, she was bound to need some extra help.
Issie listened to her mum hang up the receiver and head back up the stairs. When she entered Issie’s room she had an enormous smile on her face.
“Good news! Hess says she’d love to meet your horse, Issie. It all sounds perfect. There’s a spare stall for Blaze in the stable complex and she’s getting it ready for your arrival and Aidan will be here to pick you both up first thing on Wednesday morning with the truck. It’s a long drive. It will probably take you most of the day to get there.”
“Really? So Blaze can come with me? And we’re actually going?” Issie said.
Mrs Brown looked at her daughter’s uncertain expression. “Issie? I thought that would make you happy. You can take Blaze with you – there’s lots of land to ride there – that farm is positively huge – you could ride all day without leaving the property.”
“I know… I mean, yes, it’s great, Mum. Honestly. And I want to go and help out Aunty Hess and everything…” Issie sighed. “It’s just that Stella and Kate and me had the whole summer planned out and now I’m not going to be here. And what about Tom? He was expecting me to ride the dressage series and—”
“I’m sure Stella and Kate will understand. I know you three are pretty hard to separate but maybe it will be nice to have some time on your own for once,” Mrs Brown said. “As for Tom, you leave him to me. I’m sure he’ll agree with me that a few weeks out of your training schedule isn’t going to ruin your chances of riding at Badminton!”
“Mum! As if!” Issie laughed.
“Aha! I knew I could get you smiling again.” Mrs Brown grinned back at her daughter. “Now, I’ll dig out your suitcase and let’s make sure you actually have some clean clothes to pack, shall we? Hand me that pile of washing over there and we’ll get started!”
The news that Issie was going to Blackthorn Farm left Stella speechless – for a moment anyway. “Stella?” Issie said. There was silence at the other end of the phone and then a torrent of words came pouring out.
“I can’t believe your mum is doing this! We had plans, Issie! Big plans! What about the dressage series? What about the summer holidays? It’s not fair! How long will you be gone for?”
“I don’t know. I suppose I’ll stay there until Aunt Hester’s leg is better and she can manage on her own again.” Issie sighed. “You know, I am her favourite niece and everything.”
“Very funny, Issie! Your mum’s ruined our whole summer! Have you told Kate yet?”
“No,” Issie said, “I thought I’d tell you first because I knew you’d take it so well!”
Stella gave a giggle at this. “You’re right, I am overreacting, aren’t I? You might only be gone for a couple of weeks. I suppose we can always email each other while you’re away.”
“Actually I don’t even know if Aunty Hess has email. Blackthorn Farm is in the middle of nowhere. Aidan is coming to pick me up first thing on Wednesday morning and it will take us pretty much all day to drive there.”
“Who’s Aidan?” Stella said.
“He works for Aunty Hess. He runs her stables and he’s driving the horse truck down from the farm to pick up me and Blaze.”
“Oooh! How old is Aidan? What does he look like?”
“What? Oh, Stella! I think he’s, like, maybe seventeen. I have no idea what he looks like. I’ve never been to the farm so I’ve never met him, OK?” Issie snapped. Stella had gone a bit boy-mad lately, which Issie found very annoying. She hadn’t even thought about what Aidan might be like – but now she realised he would be here tomorrow and they would have to spend the whole day together driving to the farm.
“I’d better tell Dan. I’m sure that will make him jealous,” Stella laughed.
“Stella! Don’t!” Issie said.
Dan had asked Issie out once – at least she thought he’d asked her out – but things got all confused because it turned out he’d asked Natasha too and maybe it had never been a date. Anyway it was all a big mess and nothing had ever happened after that.
Issie sighed. “Oh, go on then. Tell Dan and Ben that I’ve gone away and tell Natasha too while you’re at it; I’m sure she’ll be thrilled that I won’t be competing against her in the dressage.”
Stella groaned. “Ohmygod! Natasha. I’d forgotten about that. She’s going to be unbearable if she wins. Issie! How can you leave me? Don’t go!”
“I’m hanging up now, Stella,” Issie said. “I have to go pack and then I have to clean Blaze’s tack and get her floating boots out and make sure that all her gear is ready to go…”
“OK, OK.” Stella sighed. “But you’d better email me. And if they have no email then send a carrier pigeon or whatever they’ve
got up there.”
“Knowing Aunty Hess, I wouldn’t be surprised if she hasn’t trained up a pigeon or two,” Issie giggled. “It’s a deal – I’ll send you a letter by pigeon post.”
Aidan was due to arrive at seven a.m. on Wednesday morning to pick Issie up. But when Issie opened her curtains at six a.m. to check the weather, she saw the horse truck was already parked outside.
“Mum?” she called out as she padded downstairs, still in her pyjamas. “The horse truck is here already.”
“I know,” her mother replied from the kitchen. “Come in and meet Aidan!”
Issie walked through to find her mother making coffee for a young boy in a plaid shirt and jeans who was sitting at the table. The boy, who looked not that much older than Issie, had black hair that fell over his face in a long, floppy fringe almost covering his eyes. He stood up as Issie sat down next to him and stuck out his hand for her to shake.
“Hi,” he said, “I’m Aidan.”
“Hello Issie! I mean… hello, I’m Issie!” Issie said, flustered. She shook Aidan’s hand. “Sorry, I’m not ready to go yet obviously,” she said, looking down at her pyjamas, which she now realised were the ones with pink kittens all over them. “I didn’t expect you to get here so early.”
“I got here late last night and slept in the horse truck,” Aidan said.
“Was that uncomfortable?” Mrs Brown asked.
“It’s better than my bed back at the farm!” Aidan grinned. “It might look like a horse truck on the outside, but the inside is pure luxury. Hester’s got it rigged up with two beds and a shower so we can travel with the horses. There’s a kitchen too,” he added, “but I never use it. I’m not a very good cook.”
“Well, don’t you worry about that, I’ll make you breakfast.” Mrs Brown smiled.
“Thanks, that would be great.” Aidan grinned.
He looked over at Issie, who was fidgeting and looking down at the table, clearly embarrassed to be meeting a boy for the first time dressed in her pussycat pyjamas. Mrs Brown noticed her daughter shifting uncomfortably in her chair. “Issie, it will take a few minutes to get breakfast sorted. Why don’t you go and have a shower and get dressed and I’ll call you when it’s ready?” she suggested.
“Thanks, Mum!” Issie said gratefully.
When she came downstairs for the second time that morning, Issie was ready to go. She was wearing her favourite jeans, a pair of brown leather boots and her favourite T-shirt. Her long dark hair was now neatly combed and tied back in a thick ponytail. She carried a big overnight bag thrown over one shoulder and was dragging a suitcase with her right hand.
“Let me help you.” Aidan smiled, taking the bags off her. “I’ll put these in the truck.” He went out the front door with Issie’s bags and she sat down at the table as her mum dished up her bacon and eggs.
“Aidan’s already eaten. You finish up and then you can get going,” Mrs Brown said as she poured herself a coffee from the plunger and sat down next to Issie. “Aidan will help you load Blaze at the pony club and then you can set off straight from there. Aunt Hess is expecting you in time for tea. I’ve packed you a banana cake to take with you; Hess is terrible at baking. In fact, all her cooking is terrible! You’ll probably come back as skinny as a rake!” Mrs Brown said. She gave Issie a big hug.
“I’ve packed you a big bag of carrots for Blaze too in case she gets hungry during the trip.”
Issie smiled. “Thanks, Mum!” she said.
“Take care, honey. Call me every night, OK?” Mrs Brown was still hugging Issie.
“Mum, you have to let go of me now, I need to leave.” Issie laughed.
“Are we ready to go?” Aidan stuck his head around the kitchen door. “The truck is all packed. Let’s go get this horse of yours.”
It was only a five minute drive to the pony club, and Issie said nothing all the way. She was quiet even as she velcroed on Blaze’s floating boots and loaded the dainty chestnut mare into the truck stall, tying her up with a hay net for the journey.
Issie hopped back into the cab, Aidan raised the ramp and they drove out through the pony-club gates. Issie took one last look over her shoulder at the horses who were left behind grazing happily. “Bye, Toby. Bye, Coco,” she murmured. She felt a strange sensation in her tummy, like the butterfly nerves she usually got before a showjumping competition. She looked back through the window of the cab. Blaze was chewing contentedly on her hay net. Issie pressed her nose up against the glass and gazed at her pony, taking in the delicate dish of her nose and the deep, dark eyes fringed by her flaxen forelock.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Aidan said.
“What?”
“Your mare.” Aidan smiled at Issie. “An Anglo-Arab, right? Half Arab and half Thoroughbred?”
“Uh-huh,” Issie said.
“She looks like a very special horse. Where did you get her?” Aidan asked.
“It’s a long story,” Issie said.
“It’s a long drive too,” Aidan smiled, “so why don’t you start now and maybe you’ll be finished by the time we get there.”
Issie laughed. “OK,” she said. And so she told Aidan the story of Blaze. She started right at the very beginning, from the awful tragedy of Mystic’s death. When she had lost her lovely grey gelding she thought she could never love another horse again. And then Avery had turned up with Blaze. She had been rescued by the International League for the Protection of Horses and was in a desperate state, terrified and half-starved. It had taken every last ounce of love that Issie had in her to win Blaze’s trust and bring her back again. She nearly lost Blaze once more when Francoise D’Arth arrived in Chevalier Point and told her that Blaze was actually one of the famed El Caballo Danza Magnifico Arabians.
“She must be worth a fortune!” Aidan said.
Issie nodded. “I guess so. I don’t really know. When Francoise brought Blaze back to me she told me that someone had paid for Blaze and wanted to give her to me. Now she’s mine to keep for ever. I never found out who it was or how much they paid for her – and since I’ll never, ever sell her I guess it doesn’t really matter how much she is worth.”
Aidan looked at Issie. “You’ve been through a lot with this mare, haven’t you? I can see why you didn’t want to leave her behind.”
“She’s my best friend.” Issie smiled.
Aidan was right: it was a long drive to the farm. They made their way out of the city into the open countryside, and it was late in the afternoon when they drove up to the crest of a very high hill and Aidan finally turned the truck down the driveway that led to the farm. The limestone driveway seemed to almost burrow a tunnel through the dense native woods that surrounded them. The trees blocked out the light above them and Issie could hear scraping and rustling as the enormous branches that hung overhead began to brush against the roof of the horse truck. She pushed her nose up against the passenger window and stared out at the lush ferns, bright vermillion fuchsias, brilliant yellow kowhai flowers and boughs of crab apples laden with blood-red fruit. When the truck finally emerged into the golden afternoon light she found herself in front of an enormous two-storey white mansion, with latticed Victorian verandas and broad balconies on the second floor. There were cherry trees in full bloom covering the vast circular lawn in front of the house.
Standing in the middle of the lawn under the cherry trees was Aunty Hess. She wore a long, white, cotton dress and her hair, which was very blonde and tightly curled, tumbled over her shoulders. There was a loud baying as three dogs came bounding out of the house to join her. One was a smiling golden retriever, the other was an enormous black shaggy Newfoundland and the third was a whippet-thin black and white hound.
As they drove up towards the manor the dogs all leapt up dangerously, bouncing up to put their paws on the side of the horse truck as it pulled to a stop in front of the cherry trees. Then they dashed off again at a mad run and sat obediently on either side of the woman in the white cotton dress.
“Aunty Hess!” Issie beamed down at her aunt.
“Isadora! My favourite niece!” Hess held her arms up to help her down from the truck cab. “Welcome to Blackthorn Farm.”
Aunt Hester led Issie through the cherry trees and up the wide path that led to the grand entrance of Blackthorn Manor.
“You must be starving after driving all day!” she said. “Don’t worry about your pony; Aidan will take the truck down and settle her in at the stables. You come with me. I’ve made you dinner.”
Dinner, it turned out, was three burnt fish fingers with runny mashed potato and peas. “Your mother probably told you that my cooking isn’t up to much,” Hester smiled, “and I can tell you that she’s quite right and it really hasn’t improved!”
While Issie ate, Hester sat down next to her with her leg propped up on a chair. Issie hadn’t noticed at first, but under that white cotton dress Hester was sporting a brilliant pink plaster cast that ran from her toes to her knee.
“Wow!’ Issie said.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Hester smiled, knocking on the plaster with her knuckles. “They let me choose the colour, you know. Schiaparelli pink is so chic, don’t you think? I’m still supposed to use crutches but I can’t be bothered so I use a walking stick or I sometimes just hop,” Hester continued. “It’s a very long driveway down to the stables when you’re hopping on one foot, I can tell you. And feeding out the farm animals takes me for ever.”
“How did it happen, Aunty Hess?”
“Oh, I was training one of the horses, Diablo. I was teaching him to lie down dead as if he had been shot, you see, like in a cowboy movie. Well, he lay down dead all right, but he did it right on top of me! Not his fault, of course; he was only doing what I asked him to do. But it broke my leg in two places, and there you go!” Aunt Hester smiled. “I must say it is lovely to have my favourite niece and her mystery mare here to help me out.”