by Stacy Gregg
“So why are you bringing your foal to pony club? What’s the point of that?” huffed Natasha as she strode over from her fancy blue and silver horse truck where she had been standing to watch Issie unload Storm. “Trying to show off, I suppose. You always have to be the centre of attention, don’t you?”
“I am not showing off!” Issie was taken aback. “Coming here is part of Nightstorm’s training. Avery says—”
“Avery says, Avery says…” Natasha sing-songed back. She cast a glance over her shoulder to make sure Avery was still inside the horse truck and couldn’t hear her before she went on, “You know, some of us don’t care what Avery has to say. He’s just a pony-club instructor. If he was any good then he’d have his own private stables, wouldn’t he?”
“Like Ginty McLintoch, I suppose?” Issie said archly. She was fed up with Natasha banging on about her fabulous, expensive lessons with Ginty, and complaining about Avery’s ‘dated methods’.
“Ginty McLintoch says she’d never teach at a pony club,” Natasha said. “She says she’s too professional to lower her standards—”
“Natasha!” There was a call from the blue and silver horse truck and Mrs Tucker appeared on the ramp, looking flustered. “Natasha! What’s going on? Are you going to unload your horse or do I have to do everything?”
Natasha groaned out loud at her mother’s command, but she did as she was asked and walked back over to her truck, following Mrs Tucker back inside. A few moments later she emerged again leading a horse. Issie had been expecting to see Natasha’s elegant rose-grey, Fabergé. Instead, the horse that appeared was a striking chestnut, about sixteen hands high, with a glossy coat, perfectly pulled mane, flowing tail and two white hind socks.
“His name is Romeo and he’s a purebred Selle Francaise—a French sport-horse!” Natasha said proudly as she led him past Issie and tied him up.
Issie was stunned. “What happened to Fabergé?”
“Fabby’s gone,” Natasha shrugged. “He was never talented enough for me. Ginty was supposed to find me a new horse at Horse of the Year, but really there was nothing there that measured up to my needs.” Natasha said this last part with a nasty sneer and Issie knew this was a dig at Comet. “Anyway, that’s when Mummy suggested that Ginty fly over to Australia and look for a new horse to bring back. That’s where she found Romeo. She insists that Romeo is the perfect horse to take me to the national pony club champs, and—”
“Got a new horse then?” Stella interrupted as she rode up to join them. “Is that because Fabergé kept bucking you off?”
Natasha gave Stella a filthy look. “That wasn’t my fault! Fabergé is too highly strung. Ginty says that’s why we weren’t clicking.”
“Natasha, I don’t know how you can expect to ‘click’ with a horse if you just keep getting new ones every time something goes wrong!” Stella shot back.
“It’s called upgrading,” Natasha sniffed. She cast her eyes over Coco. “You know, you should really think about upgrading too, Stella. You’re so huge your legs are almost dragging on the ground on that pony. What’s the matter? Can’t your parents afford to buy you a new one?”
Stella seemed genuinely hurt by this and Natasha, pleased with the success of her put-down, decided that was the end of the conversation. “I’m glad this is the last rally of the year,” she added icily as she turned to lead Romeo away to the washing bays. “That means I won’t have to put up with you two again for the next few months.”
“God, she is such a cow!” Stella said, pulling a face behind Natasha’s back as she watched her walk away. Then she vaulted out of the saddle to stand beside her horse. “Never mind what Stuck-up Tucker says, Coco, I still love you!” Stella threw her arms around Coco’s neck, giving the mare a snuggle. Coco, who didn’t particularly like snuggles, put her ears back a bit.
“You are getting a bit big for her though, aren’t you?” Issie said gently.
It was true. The girls were fourteen now and Stella had really grown this year. Coco was only thirteen-two hands high and Stella looked enormous on her. Her legs were so long they almost wrapped right around the mare’s tubby brown belly.
“I know…” Stella said. She cast a sneaky sideways glance at Coco, as if she was checking to see if the pony was listening, and then whispered dramatically to Issie with her hand over her face. “I don’t really want to talk about this in front of Coco, but I’ve been looking in the ‘ponies for sale’ pages in PONY magazine. Mum and Dad said that I can sell Coco and get a new pony in time for summer and they’re taking me to look at this fourteen-two roan next week…”
“Stella,” Issie whispered back, “you do know that you don’t have to whisper, don’t you? Coco can’t understand English.”
“Coco understands every word I say, don’t you, Coco?” Stella giggled, stroking her mare’s forelock.
While the girls were talking, Storm had been standing obediently tied up beside them, his head held high, watching everything that was going on around him with bright, wide eyes. Mostly though, he was looking intently at Coco. He gave a high-pitched whinny and stretched to the end of his lead rope, craning his neck to get closer to her.
“Hey, Storm!” Stella said. “Do you want to say hello to Coco?”
Issie nodded. “That’s why we’re here. Tom says it will be good for Storm to socialise with other horses.”
At first, Storm stepped back nervously when Stella led Coco over. After a few moments, though, his curiosity got the better of him and he came closer, stretching his neck out so that he and Coco were touching noses. Coco responded with a stroppy squeal and put her ears flat back, trying to nip at the colt. Nightstorm skittered back to get out of her way.
“Coco! Be nice! He’s just a baby,” Stella scolded. She stood Coco still and waited for Nightstorm to try again. This time the mare reluctantly seemed to accept the colt’s presence. They nickered to each other softly, as if they were making horsey conversation, and within a few minutes they were standing quite happily together.
“Where’s Kate?” Issie wondered.
“She’s waiting for the farrier,” Stella said. “Toby threw a shoe.”
“We have to get her to introduce Toby to Nightstorm too,” Issie said. “Maybe the three of them will be best friends—just like us.”
Issie, Stella and Kate had been inseparable from the moment they met. Issie’s mum always said that the girls were so alike they must be sisters. This was kind of a joke, because the three of them didn’t actually look anything like each other. Issie had olive skin and long, dark straight hair just like her mum. Stella was a redhead with curls and freckles and Kate was tall and lanky with short-bobbed blonde hair and pale blue eyes. “Never mind looks. On the inside, where it matters, you three girls are cut from the same cloth,” Mrs Brown would say, smiling and shaking her head. “Utterly horse-mad!”
Issie looked at her watch. Quarter to nine. The rally was about to start and she was absolutely dying of thirst. She had just enough coins in her pocket to use the drinks machine in the clubroom.
“Stella,” she said, “can you do me a favour? Can you watch Storm for a couple of minutes? I want to get a drink.”
“I want one too. I’ll come with you,” Stella said.
Issie shook her head. “Tom said I shouldn’t leave Storm alone by himself.”
Stella looked at Storm, who was happily nibbling at his hay net. “He’s not alone. He’s with Coco,” she said. “He’ll be fine. We’ll only be a minute.”
“I know, but…” Issie wasn’t sure about this, but she didn’t want to be a drama queen. After all, they were only going to the clubroom.
“OK, OK!” she caved. “But we have to be quick, all right?”
The two girls raced across the paddock to the clubroom and bounded up the steps. Issie dug into her pockets and hastily fed the change into the drinks machine. She listened for the clunk-clunk, and then stuck her hand into the hole to retrieve her can of Coke.
“Ohhh,
I might get some crisps too!” Stella said. “I love crisps for breakfast.” She grinned at Issie as she put her money in the vending machine.
“Come on. We better get back,” Issie said nervously. She was beginning to regret leaving Storm. Avery had been quite firm when he told her not to leave the colt tied up by himself. If anything happened she wouldn’t forgive herself.
Issie stepped out of the clubroom and looked back towards the horse float where Storm was tethered. “Ohmygod!” she said.
“What’s wrong?” Stella said. But Issie didn’t answer her. She had already leapt off the clubroom steps and was sprinting back across the paddock.
Issie could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she ran towards the horse float. Storm was standing where she had left him—but there was a dark figure next to the colt, with one hand grasping Storm’s halter.
“Hey!” Issie yelled as she ran across the paddock. “Hey!”
At the sound of Issie’s voice, the dark figure turned round. It was a woman. She was dressed in crisp white jodhpurs, long black boots and a black shirt. Her face was hidden behind dark glasses and the dramatic sweep of her long dark hair, but that didn’t matter. Issie had recognised her even before she caught a glimpse of her features.
“You came!” Issie’s face broke into a broad grin as she ran towards the woman. “I hadn’t heard anything for so long, I had almost given up!”
The woman, who had been gently stroking the colt’s muzzle, whispered something to the young horse and let go of the halter. She stepped forward to greet Issie, giving her two brisk kisses, one on each cheek, just as the French always do, before wrapping her in her arms in the most enormous hug.
“Isadora!” the woman cried. “Bonjour! It is so good to see you once again!”
Issie couldn’t believe it. It was Francoise D’arth. The famed French horsewoman, head rider of El Caballo Danza Magnifico, here at Chevalier Point!
The last time Francoise had arrived in Chevalier Point with her troupe of dancing Lipizzaners and Anglo-Arabians she had turned Issie’s world upside down.
Francoise had recognised Blaze—only she said her name wasn’t Blaze at all, it was Salome and she belonged to El Caballo Danza Magnifico. The mare had been stolen and now they wanted her back. Issie hadn’t wanted to believe her, but Francoise had proof. The Frenchwoman was amazed that she had found the mare again. Issie had no choice but to agree to return her. She was totally devastated when Francoise took Blaze away. Then, just when Issie thought she’d lost her beloved mare forever, Blaze was unexpectedly returned to her once more. Francoise claimed that “a mysterious benefactor” had paid handsomely for the mare, with instructions that Blaze be given back to Issie.
Issie had never discovered who this “benefactor” was, or why they had bought her horse back. Whoever it was, she owed them a great debt and she knew it. Blaze was hers for always now. And despite all that had happened, Issie still considered Francoise to be her friend. After all, Francoise didn’t own El Caballo Danza Magnifico—she just worked for them. Francoise loved horses as much as Issie did—she was the one who had trained Blaze and she truly understood just how special the bond was between Issie and her pony.
When Issie had found out that Blaze was pregnant and Marius was the father she had written immediately to Francoise D’arth to tell her the exciting news. Francoise hadn’t replied, but Issie figured that was because she was away on tour with El Caballo Danza Magnifico. After Storm was born, Issie had written to Francoise again, sending photos this time—and still no reply. And now, suddenly out of the blue, here she was!
Francoise turned her gaze to the bay colt. “He is beautiful, Isadora. Everything you said about him in your letters was true.” She ran her hand down Storm’s legs, feeling the strength of his bone and muscle. She could not hide the fact that she was impressed by this colt. “He is even more beautiful than in your photos. This horse is destined for greatness.”
“I’m glad you like him,” said a rather stern voice. Issie turned round to see Tom Avery standing behind her. “Well, this is a surprise!” Avery said with a tone that indicated it was not an entirely pleasant one. “What are you doing here, Francoise?”
“Tom!” Francoise smiled warmly. “It is good to see you again. It has been too long.” She stepped forward and greeted him with a kiss on both cheeks. Avery’s face betrayed little emotion as he waited for Francoise to continue.
“When I got Isadora’s letter telling me that Blaze was in foal to Marius I was so happy,” Francoise said. “Then I received the next letter, saying that a foal had been born, and well, of course I was very intrigued. I had to come and meet this colt.”
“Really?” Avery cocked an eyebrow at her. Issie noticed that he still wasn’t smiling. “Is that all, Francoise? It’s a long way to come just to say hello. I have a feeling that there is something you aren’t telling us.”
Francoise’s cheery smile faded and was replaced by a rather more serious expression.
“Oui. Yes. You are right, Tom. There is more to tell you—and much that we need to talk about.”
“I thought there might be,” Avery said. “El Caballo Danza Magnifico wouldn’t send you all the way here just to check on this colt.”
Francoise nodded. “You are right.” She looked at the colt standing in front of her. “I was told to come here and see for myself whether this young horse was indeed the son of Marius.” Francoise paused. “I was told that if Nightstorm had the same great conformation and temperament as his sire then I was to pay as much as you asked and bring him home to Spain.”
“Francoise, I don’t understand.” Issie looked shocked. “You mean you want to buy Nightstorm?”
“Oui, Isadora,” Francoise nodded. “El Caballo Danza Magnifico have told me that I must—and at any price!”
“But he’s my horse! You can’t—” Issie began, but Francoise interrupted her.
“Please, Isadora, be calm and listen,” she implored.
“The people I work for are very wealthy. They are offering you a great deal of money. This colt, your Nightstorm, is the progeny of their best stallion Marius, and you know that your mare Blaze was once their most favoured of all. You can see how valuable a colt like this might be to the stable…”
“I don’t care!” Issie said. She could feel the panic rising in her. She looked pleadingly at her instructor. “Tom? She has no right to take him away from me, does she?”
Avery’s frown had deepened, but he said nothing. Issie felt as if her throat had closed over and she couldn’t breathe. She was choking as she tried to force the words out.
“Tom!” Her voice was trembling now as she spoke. “Tell her! Storm is mine. They can’t do this to me, not again!”
Issie had every reason to be nervous and she knew it. After all, she thought to herself, the last time Francoise D’arth came to Chevalier Point I almost lost Blaze. Now the Frenchwoman was back and Issie felt her world spiralling out of control once more. Would she lose Storm too?
Chapter 3
Tom Avery wasn’t the sort of riding instructor who liked to raise his voice. He never shouted at his pupils; instead he spoke to them with measured, calm authority. It was this very same tone that he used now as he addressed Francoise D’arth.
“Isadora is right, Francoise,” Avery said. “The colt is not for sale. I’m sorry you wasted your time on this trip, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to go back to El Caballo and explain that Nightstorm can’t be bought—at any price.”
Francoise nodded solemnly. “If that is your decision I will accept it. But you do not understand everything yet—there is so much more I need to tell you both. We must talk further. May I come and see you again at the farm tomorrow?”
“There’s no point in trying to change our minds,” Avery said, “but you are our friend, Francoise, and you’re welcome any time at Winterflood Farm.”
Francoise smiled at this. “Thank you. I shall come over in the morning then, yes? At about
nine?”
She glanced again at Nightstorm. The colt had begun to sense that something was going on. His nostrils were flared and he was pawing at the ground anxiously. As Issie reached for his halter to calm him, Nightstorm pulled back and let out a shrill whinny, his head held high and proud.
“Easy, Storm,” Issie soothed, stroking his muzzle as the colt trembled with excitement beneath her hands.
“He is restless,” Francoise said softly. “It is time for him to go home, yes?” She looked pointedly at Avery as she said this.
He nodded in agreement. “Yes, Francoise. You’re right. Maybe it is.”
That afternoon back at Winterflood Farm, Issie spent longer than usual grooming and feeding Storm. When she turned him out in his paddock she realised she didn’t want to let the colt go. She gave him a long, snuggly hug,scratching him on the rump the way he liked, and stroking his velvet muzzle for ages before she finally slipped the halter off his head and set him loose.
“You’re worried about him, aren’t you?” Avery said when Issie finally came back to the stables.
“Yes,” Issie said. “Aren’t you?”
“I know it must be hard,” Avery said gently, “after what happened the last time Francoise was here, and everything you went through with Blaze…But Issie, this isn’t the same thing at all. Francoise has no claim over this colt. It doesn’t matter what she says, Storm’s your horse and nothing will change that.” Avery reached over and ruffled her hair. “Now go home,” he smiled. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Mrs Brown took one look at Issie’s face when she came through the front door and knew instantly that something was very wrong.
