Blaze and the Dark Rider (15 page)

“Do you want to go shopping with me today?” Mrs Brown asked as she dished up the pancakes. “You could do with some new clothes and we need to get you some school shoes. I thought we could go to the mall and then get some lunch.”

Issie gave her mum a weak smile. “No thanks, Mum. I think I’m going to go down to the River Paddock.”

Mrs Brown looked puzzled. “What for?”

“Ummm, there’s still some gear in the tack room there and I thought I should clear it up,” Issie said unconvincingly.

“I thought all of Blaze’s gear was in the tack room at the pony club?” Mrs Brown said.

“Well, most of it…”

“Are you up to something, Isadora?” Her mother arched a brow as she asked the question.

“No, Mum, honest…I need to pack up the rest of
my grooming kit and stuff…” Issie paused “…and, well, I guess I want to spend some time alone. The River Paddock is where I first met Blaze…”

Mrs Brown nodded silently. She flipped another pancake in the pan, assessing its brownness on both sides, and then used a fish slice to lift it on to a plate. She carried the plate over to Issie and sat down at the table next to her daughter.

“I used to worry about you with that horse,” Mrs Brown said quietly. “After your accident with Mystic I didn’t even want you to ride again—full stop. Certainly not on a horse like that. Blaze was so unpredictable. She seemed so highly strung. I was always worried that you couldn’t handle her.”

“Then why did you let me keep her?” Issie said.

Mrs Brown smiled. “Tom Avery set me straight. We had a little chat and he told me what a born horsewoman you are, that you actually have the talent to take it all the way. Tom says that one day you could be a great rider.” Mrs Brown looked at her daughter. “Perhaps even better than he was.”

Issie was shocked. She shook her head in bewilderment.

“Anyway, that’s what Tom said so don’t start arguing
with me about it,” her mother said briskly, getting up from the table. “And who am I to stand in the way of a superstar in the making? You know I cannot bear horses, Issie. They scare me stiff. But I do love you, and if riding is what you want to do, then you should do it. I know you must be feeling devastated right now. It isn’t fair that Blaze has been taken from you. But trust me, somehow we’re going to find a way for you to ride again. We’re not giving up that easily.”

Mrs Brown smiled at her daughter. “Now eat up that second pancake. It’s not like you to eat just one!”

It was still raining when Issie set off on her bike to the River Paddock. Her mum had offered to give her a lift but she said she would prefer to ride her bike despite the bad weather. She pulled on her waterproof and boots and set off.

The rain was heavy and by the time she arrived at the paddock her legs, which had been poking out from under the coat, were soaking wet.

On the way to the paddock she thought about
what her mum had said. Had Avery really told her mum that Issie was going to be a great rider one day?
Even better than he was?
Avery had ridden at Badminton. Issie would love to be half as good as he was in his day.

She shook her head, dismissing the idea of it. It didn’t matter what Tom said. How could she ever be a great rider when she didn’t even have a horse? Despite her mum’s pep talk about not giving up, Issie knew there was no way her mother could afford to buy her another horse. Natasha Tucker was right—Blaze was too good for her. Horses like her cost a fortune and since Issie’s mum and dad had split up, her mother didn’t have that much money any more. There was no way she had enough money to buy a horse like Blaze.

Issie parked her bike up next to the turnstile and clambered over the fence, trying not to get her coat caught on the palings. The rain was so heavy now that the whole paddock was blurred in a grey haze. In the far paddock she could make out the dark, wet shapes of horses. Their rumps were turned to face the rain and their heads were hanging dejectedly. The weather was too miserable for them to graze. In the furthest
paddock, a small herd of them were sheltering underneath the trees at the edge of The Pines.

The Pines were a cluster of huge pine trees that formed a natural grove at the far end of the River Paddock. Issie had always loved cantering Blaze through the winding paths between the trees on hot sunny days. She looked at The Pines and then cast a sideways glance at the tack room. She was already wet and chilly; the sensible thing to do was to pack up her gear and head home again before the rain got worse. She began to walk towards the tack room, but then she stopped. She changed her mind and set off towards the pine trees instead, walking slowly with her head bent down against the weather.

A trickle of water ran down the back of her neck, slipping sneakily under the waterproof and down her back. She pulled up her collar against the wind and the rain which was now being blown horizontally.

Issie undid the gate between the first and second paddocks and then relatched it and kept walking. She was heading for the corner of the field where the path into The Pines began.

The grass was boggy underfoot so Issie was
surprised when she reached The Pines and found that the ground there beneath the trees was quite dry. Sheltered by the branches above, the carpet of dead pine needles remained untouched by the rain. Issie felt the crunch of the needles under her feet and smelt the thick resin scent as she walked along the path between the trees.

She had only gone a few metres into the pines when she heard the sound of hooves. The trees cast dark shadows and she peered into the half-light ahead of her, trying to see. Where was the horse who was making the noise? Her heart leapt as she caught sight of him. The first thing she saw was a dapple-grey shadow. Then the silhouette of a small sway-backed pony came into view. The pony came closer now, weaving between pine trees, trotting in and out of the shadows. And then suddenly there he was in front of her, his dark eyes peering out at Issie from beneath a long, windswept silver fringe.

“Hello, Mystic.” Issie smiled. “I should have known you would be here.”

Mystic stepped forward now, and Issie reached out a hand to softly stroke his velvet nose.

The grey pony nickered softly “Oh, Mystic,” Issie whispered, “I’m glad I still have you, boy. I’ll always have you, won’t I?”

She wrapped her arms around Mystic’s neck and buried her face deep into the warmth of his thick mane, smothering herself in the smell of horse, closing her eyes and hanging on tight.

“It’s not fair,” Issie said, her voice trembling. “I miss her so much!”

Mystic nickered again. “Oh, Mystic! You miss her, too, don’t you boy?” Issie said.

They stayed there like this for a long time, and as Issie stroked Mystic’s velvet-soft dappled neck, she realised that the little gelding seemed in no hurry to go anywhere. Like Issie, he seemed to know that there was nothing he could do this time to help Blaze. And so the pair of them stood there, Issie murmuring to Mystic and the horse nickering softly back to her, almost as if they had their own private language.

After a while the rain seemed to finally ease off a bit. Issie led Mystic over to a big pine stump just off the main path and used it as a mounting block to vault lightly on to the little grey’s sway back. Then the pair
of them walked together through The Pines, each comforted by the other’s company as the rain pattered on the natural canopy above them and the pine needles crackled under Mystic’s hooves.

They walked like that all the way through The Pines, and Issie breathed in the tang of wet pine mixed with the familiar, sweet smell of warm horse sweat. She looked up at the black branches above her blocking out the light, making a puzzle of the sky above.

Issie thought about the time she had ridden through here at a wild gallop on Blaze. The mare had been impossible to stop that day, but Issie had managed to stay on somehow. She thought about the time too when Blaze had bolted and jumped the gate between the two paddocks with Issie on her back. That day, she remembered ruefully, she hadn’t been so lucky. Avery told her there was an old saying: you need to fall off seven times before you can really call yourself a rider. Well, if that were true, then her time with Blaze had definitely made a rider out of her!

When they finally emerged from the trees, the rain had stopped and it was getting late. Issie guessed it was almost dinnertime. She slid down off the grey pony
and gave him a long hug goodbye. “Thank you, Mystic,” she murmured.

She walked back across the paddock. At one point she looked back over her shoulder and was surprised to see that he was still there watching her. She gave him a little wave as if to say that she was going to be OK and he didn’t have to worry any more, and with that the little gelding stamped a hoof in return, flicked his mane and then set off back into the trees at a high-spirited canter. Issie watched as his grey dapples blurred into the shadows, and then she smiled to herself, turned around and kept walking through the damp grass towards her bike. She was feeling hungry again and it was time to go home.

“Mum! I’m back!” Issie called as she walked in through the front door, peeling off her waterproof and throwing it in the laundry along with her boots before she entered the kitchen. “Mum?”

Issie stood in the kitchen for a moment, puzzled as to where her mother might be. And then she heard her
voice in the hallway talking on the phone. “All right, then. Of course. Yes, she’s just arrived. We’ll come now. Put the kettle on and we’ll see you in a minute.”

Issie walked through into the hallway just as her mother hung up the phone. Her mum, she thought, had a very queer look on her face. Something was up.

“Put your coat and boots back on,” Mrs Brown instructed briskly. “We’re off.”

“What’s going on? Where are we going?” Issie pestered her mum as she pulled her wet coat and boots back on again and clambered into the car.

“You’ll see,” is all her mother would reply.

And so the two of them drove in tense silence, with Issie occasionally trying to ask again what was going on and her mum just shaking her head and saying, “Wait. Just wait. We’re nearly there. It’s not far.”

It was getting dark as Issie and her mum drove up the tree-lined driveway into Winterflood Farm. As they pulled up into the gravel turning bay, Tom Avery stepped out of his front door to meet them. He was
dressed, as always, in jodhpurs and long boots. He smiled broadly when he saw them both. “Come in,” he said. “Good timing. We’ve just made a pot of tea.”

We?
thought Issie. Who else was here? There had been a strange car, a Peugeot, parked next to Tom’s horse truck. Who was here with him?

She stopped and shook the rain off her coat before hanging it on the hook in the front porch, and then followed her mother in the door.

Avery’s house was a tiny, old-fashioned cottage with an Aga in the kitchen and a big wooden dining table and chairs taking up the centre of the room. It was into the kitchen that he led them now, and Issie couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw who was sitting at the kitchen table. There, right in front of her was a face that she never thought she would see again. It was Francoise D’arth.