Destiny and Stardust (3 page)

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.

“Lie down, stay,” Hess instructed the dogs. All three of them put their heads on their paws and lay perfectly still as she walked towards the horse truck and opened Issie's passenger door.

“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.”

“Blaze! I should go and check on her.” Issie suddenly panicked. “She's not used to being stabled and she doesn't know any of your horses. I should—”

“Don't worry about Blaze,” Aunt Hester reassured her. “Aidan will take excellent care of her. He used to work at a fancy stable in Ireland when he wasn't much older than you are now – looking after racehorses for some high and mighty Arab Sultan. It was all rather grand. Frightfully expensive horses too! I'm sure looking after your pony is well within his capabilities. We'll go down there in just a moment and you can check on her. But first…” Aunt Hester swept her hand dramatically towards the doorway that led to the main hall “…the grand tour!”

“Downstairs to start with, I think,” Hester said. “Yes, yes. Follow me.” She led Issie through a maze of vast wood-panelled rooms, each one more fantastic than the last, all of them with high ceilings, well-worn parquet floors and enormous, sparkling crystal chandeliers. The walls, which were papered in faded flock wallpaper, were adorned with antlers and wild boar heads. There were paintings everywhere of elegant racehorses and black and white photographs of grand old ladies looking out at you regally from the frame.

“Not my taste, you understand,” Hester giggled. “I'm a little more shabby chic, aren't I, darling? Most of this lot was already here when I arrived. They sold the place to me lock, stock and barrel,” she said, sweeping through the billiard room, where a game of pool was set up under the watchful gaze of two large stuffed pheasants.

Hester set a cracking pace through the manor. Issie had thought the plaster cast would have slowed her aunt down, but she grasped herself a walking cane out of the wicker basket in the hallway, propped herself up on one leg and skipped along very quickly indeed. Her progress wasn't aided by the three dogs, Strudel the retriever, Nanook the enormous black Newfoundland and Taxi, the skinny black and white cattle dog. The dogs all darted constantly around Hester's ankles, getting underfoot and almost tripping her up as she hopped from one room to the next.

“…and this is the ballroom, and the servants quarters – not that we have any servants!”

“What about Aidan?” Issie said.

“Oh, he's got his own place down the hill, next to the stables. Farm manager's cottage – very sweet. Right next to the duck pond,” Hester said. “I'll show you when we do our outdoor tour. Now follow me up the stairs.”

The grand, wooden staircase stood proudly at the centre of the manor. “There are seven bedrooms upstairs,” Aunt Hester explained as she reached the top of the landing. “This one is your room.”

Hester swung open the door and beckoned for Issie to step inside. The room was enormous, but it felt cosy. The walls were papered with the most beautiful wallpaper Issie had ever seen, illustrated with old-fashioned drawings of exquisite Thoroughbreds standing with their jockeys dressed up in racing silks. Above the grand fireplace was a large oil painting of a beautiful grey horse with a long, silky mane. The horse was captured in action, cantering with his neck arched, and his proud head held high.

“Isn't he beautiful?” Hester smiled. “That's Avignon. He was my very favourite horse – a Swedish Warmblood stallion. I just adored him! Oh, I could look at this painting for ever…” Her voice trailed off as she stared at the painting. Then she picked up Issie's luggage, throwing the bags on the four-poster bed.

“Come on,” she smiled at Issie, “that's the tour over and done with. Let's get out of here and go and see that horse of yours, shall we?”

If Hester had bounded swiftly around the manor, the long walk down to the stables seemed to take the spring out of her step. The driveway wound along the side of the manor then down past the garden, bordered by a stand of enormous puriri trees. Beneath the trees were gardens filled with magnolias, camellias and ferns, bordering a green lawn covered in daisies. At the far end of the lawn was a tennis court which looked as if it had seen better days. There were weeds springing up everywhere and the dilapidated old tennis net sagged in the middle.

“As you can imagine, tennis is not my priority right now.” Hester said, tapping her cast. “Still, if you want play, I'm sure I've got racquets somewhere.”

They continued their walk to the stables. Hester had to pause for a rest several times on the way, propping herself up against the huge boulders that lined the driveway to catch her breath. The three dogs all lay down obediently at her side each time she stopped, waiting until she instructed them to move again.

“This is why I need your help, Isadora darling,” Hester said. “I simply can't get about to manage the animals. And Aidan couldn't possibly do everything on his own. Besides, Butch cannot abide Aidan, so that would never do.”

“Who's Butch?” Issie asked. Just as she said this, round the corner from behind the stables lumbered a massive, black, hairy boar.

“Butch!” Hester cried. “Come and meet Isadora!”

The pig grunted happily and broke into a jog as he came towards them. His tiny little trotters looked like they might not be able to support the enormous bulk of the beast for much longer as he wobbled along.

“Butch is one of my superstars,” Hester cooed as she reached down to feed the pig a carrot and give him a vigorous scratch behind the ears with a stick. “Do you know he's been in three TV commercials already this year? He's the pig in that bank ad – you know, the one with the piggy banks? He's rather famous, aren't you, Butchy? Shall we show Isadora some of your tricks?”

Hester put down her scratching stick, stood up from the boulder and produced another carrot which she held high above her head. “Beg, Butch!” she commanded. The pig grunted and then shifted his enormous weight, slumping back to sit on his haunches. Slowly he adjusted his position and lifted one front trotter and then the other off the ground so that he was balanced back on his hind legs. He looked just like a begging dog.

“Good lad!” Hester praised him and tossed the carrot up in the air. Butch opened his mouth and snapped at the carrot as it fell, crunching it up eagerly in his vast jaws.

Hester produced a second carrot. This time she held it directly in front of her like a magician brandishing a wand. “Play dead!” she commanded the pig. Butch gave a grunt and then fell dramatically, landing on the ground with a leaden thud. He lay perfectly still, even when Hester gave him a gentle prod with her foot. “Nice and dead,” she cooed. “What a good pig! Now, Butch, up!” Butch grunted again and lifted his head, then braced himself with his front trotters and rather ungracefully pushed himself up again so that he was standing facing Aunt Hester.

“Well done, good Butch,” she said as she fed him one more carrot.

“How did you teach him the tricks?” Issie asked.

“Oh, pigs are very easy to train; they're smarter than dogs,” Hester said. “I've had Butch since he was a little piglet and I always knew he was clever. When he was a piglet Aidan caught him in the veggie garden and pelted him with an acorn. Butch has never forgiven him. That's why you'll have to look after him and keep his training up while you're here.”

“But I don't know anything about pig training!” Issie spluttered.

“Don't worry, I'll explain everything. It's all quite simple,” Hester said. “I've figured out a roster. Aidan will take care of the chickens and ducks. They've got a big role in this movie and they all need to learn their cues. One of the ducks needs to open a door – you can imagine the fuss he's made learning that… You're in charge of the rabbits,” Hester continued. “There are seven of them and they're quite a funny bunch, I can tell you. You'll look after Butch too, of course, and then there's Meadow and Blossom.”

“More pigs?” Issie asked.

“No, dear, a calf and a goat. Both of them are frightfully naughty and I'm afraid I've fallen quite behind in their training. You'll have to be rather firm with them.”

“What exactly am I going to teach them?” Issie asked, feeling nervous.

“Oh, the usual. When to stop and go, nodding and shaking their heads… all the standard stuff,” Hester said. “It's such bad timing to break my leg just when all my little stars are needed for such a big movie.
Tenderfoot Farm,
that's what it's called. It's an American crew. They're coming here next month to start filming. They need barnyard animals that can act on cue – and that's where I come in. My darlings are the best in the business.” Hester gave Butch one last scratch behind the ears with the stick and then began to walk again towards the stables. The pig now joined them, trotting alongside with the dogs.

“The horses are my first love, of course,” Hester said as they approached the stables. “Other animals are lovely, but there is something truly magical about horses, don't you think?” She gave Issie a strange look as she said this and Issie didn't know what to say. Even Aunty Hess would be shocked if she knew about Mystic.

Issie's grey gelding had been such a special horse. She had loved him so deeply; it felt like her world had been torn apart the day he died. But since then, well, maybe
magical
was exactly the word for it. Issie had missed her horse so much that at first she couldn't believe it when Mystic had come back to her. He would appear just when she needed him most – and not like some ghost or anything, but a real horse. He had saved Issie and Blaze on more than one occasion. If anyone believed in the magic that horses held within them, it was Issie. But Issie knew somehow instinctively that Mystic was her secret now – and anyway, how could she possibly explain it all to Aunt Hester?

The stable was a large building, just a single storey with wide weatherboard planks painted a clean, crisp apple-white. Next to the stable block was a covered arena, not like a dressage arena, but a round pen with high walls and tiered seating. “That's where I do all of my stunt training.” Hester gestured to it as she breezed past the pen towards the enormous sliding barn doors that led into the stable complex.

“It's so beautiful in here!” Issie was amazed. The stable doors were pale, honey-coloured wood. Each stall had a horse's head carved ornately on the door and a horse's nameplate hanging from a hook.

“We have seven horses of our own here so there is plenty of room for Blaze,” Hester said as they walked. “We've put her right here, in the nearest stall to your right. Why don't we check on her first and then you can meet the others?”

Issie walked up to the stall. She ran her hand over the carved head on the door. There was no nameplate on the hook, but she could hear her horse nickering softly on the other side of the door.