Comet and the Champion's Cup (5 page)

“All settled in?” Aidan's voice startled her. He was standing in the doorway holding a duffel bag. “I'm moving into the last room down the end of the hall.”

Issie was confused. “Why aren't you in your cottage down by the stables?”

“It made sense to move out,” Aidan said matter-of-factly “We needed somewhere to put all the kids so we turned the cottage into a sort of dormitory. I'm staying here in the main house until they leave.” He stepped into Issie's room and shut the door conspiratorially behind him. “Hey,” he said in a low, stagey whisper, “we need to have a secret meeting.”

“What about?”

“Dinner,” he said. “I want to sort out a roster before the kids get here. We need to stop Hester spending too much time in the kitchen–for obvious reasons!”

Aidan was right. Issie's aunt might be able to run a riding school. But it was an entirely different matter to feed a riding school. Hester was, quite possibly, the world's worst cook. Her dinners usually ended up as blackened, inedible mounds in the oven. Her baking was so bad that even Butch, the resident farm pig, turned his nose up at it. Unfortunately Hester had already been in the kitchen that very morning. When the girls came downstairs after unpacking they found her waiting for them with a plate of scones for afternoon tea. They were like bricks with raisins in them.

Stella picked one up and took a bite. She instantly regretted it. “Ow, I fink oif broken a twooth!”

“There is no way she's cooking dinner,” Issie muttered to Aidan as she choked down a mouthful of her scone.

“We'll sort out that roster,” Aidan agreed.

Cooking and cleaning rosters, riding timetables, lesson plans. There was lots to be prepared before the new pupils arrived. “Can't we do it all later?” Stella grumbled as they sat down at the kitchen table with pens and sheets of paper. “I mean, it's only Tuesday. We have nearly a week to get all this done and it's a lovely sunny afternoon and we've been cooped up in the truck all day. I want to go riding.”

“We didn't come here for a holiday!” Kate said. “We've got work to do. Don't you want to be organised when the riders arrive on Monday?”

Hester surprised everyone by agreeing with Stella. “We could work on the rosters and timetables tonight,” she suggested, “and I've got a stable full of riding-school ponies who could all do with some exercise.” She looked at her watch. “If we get down there now, there's enough time for a quick bit of schooling in the arena before dinner.”

Nobody needed convincing. The girls dashed up to their rooms to get their jodhpurs on while Aidan and Hester went ahead to the stables to get the ponies ready.

“I saw the cutest little grey pony grazing next to the arena when we arrived. I wonder if I can try that one?” Stella said.

“I like the chestnut one with the star on his forehead and the three white socks,” Kate said. “What's his name again?”

“His name is Timmy And your ankles will drag on the ground if you ride him!” Issie giggled. “Hester will probably put you on one of the palominos.”

Issie knew which horse she would be getting. Hester was bound to put her on Stardust, after they had
bonded so well on the set of
The Palomino Princess
.

As they neared the stables it looked like Issie was right. When Aidan emerged from the stalls he had Stardust all saddled up and her reins in his right hand. It seemed like a lifetime since Issie had ridden the pretty palomino. She felt a shiver of anticipation as she strode towards the mare. “Hey, girl.” Issie reached out a hand to stroke her glossy, treacle-coloured neck. She was about to take the reins from Aidan when she heard her Aunt Hester's voice behind her.

“Issie! There you are! Come with me. I've got your horse ready too.”

Issie was confused. “But I thought I'd be riding Stardust, Aunty Hess?”

“Oh, I'm sorry, dear. I thought I told you,” Hester said. “Aidan is on Stardust today. I was hoping you would take on a new mount that really needs the work.”

“What?”

“The skewbald troublemaker,” Hester said, gesturing to the last stall in the loose-box row. “I want you to ride Comet.”

As if on cue at the mention of his name, Comet thrust his chestnut and white face over the Dutch door and let out a cheeky whinny. Issie looked suspiciously at the skewbald pony.

“He needs riding. He gets so frightfully bored standing in the loose box,” Hester said. “It's his own fault of course. If he wasn't such a troublemaker, I'd let him back out to graze with the others…I mean, you can't leave him in the paddock because he jumps out and you can't leave him in the loose box because he tries to destroy it.”

As if to confirm this, Comet began banging and scraping the bottom half of the Dutch door with his hoof.
Get me out of here!
he seemed to be saying.

“Naughty Comet! Stop that!” Issie said firmly. She grabbed the skewbald by the reins, unbolted the stall door and led him out into the yard.

Hester had already tacked him up for her and Issie noticed that Comet looked quite different in a saddle and bridle. He was one of those skewbalds with vigorous splashes of white all over his withers and rump. They trickled down his legs finishing up with four white socks–a bit like someone had spilt a can of white paint over him. Even his chestnut tail looked like it had been streaked with a paintbrush.

Once you put a saddle on, though, Comet's colouring was less obvious. The saddle blanket completely covered up the white marks on his withers and back. He almost
looked like an ordinary chestnut with four white socks, except when you looked from the other side you could see a big splodge of white on his hindquarters that looked a bit like a map of India.

As Issie led Comet out into the yard and over to the mounting block the pony danced along beside her, lifting his legs up in a high-stepping trot. When he was sure that everyone was watching him he raised his head and gave a high-spirited nicker, calling out to the other ponies.

“Comet! Stop being such a show-off!” The skewbald skipped about on the spot as Issie tried to steady him long enough to put her foot in the stirrup.

Issie knew she needed to be firm with this pony. Comet was green and he had shocking bad manners. Ponies were supposed to walk quietly beside you, not skip about. But she didn't have the heart to be too tough on him. There was something about his grand attitude and silly antics that just made her want to giggle. Comet strutted about as if he was a superstar instead of just a little skewbald gelding in the paddock at Hester's house. Besides, Issie was beginning to realise that Comet didn't respond well to authority. He was a stroppy pony and if she wanted to bond with him, she was going to have to do things his way.

“Steady, Comet!” Issie gave up on using the mounting block as the pony kept dancing around her. As Comet circled she moved swiftly with him, slipping her foot into the stirrup and, before the pony even knew what was happening, she was bouncing up into the saddle and had landed lightly on his back. “Good boy!”

There is that moment when you sit on a horse for the very first time and you ask yourself,
How does it feel up here? Are we right for each other? Do we click?
You can never really know for sure straightaway. It takes a long time to get to know a horse. But in those first minutes in the saddle, as you ask them to walk, trot and canter for the first time, you get an inkling, almost like a sixth sense that tells you whether you really belong together.

Right now, Issie didn't realise it but she was unconsciously, instinctively, feeling this new horse out. She adjusted her position and felt the sturdiness of Comet's stocky frame, compact and solid underneath her. He was only fourteen-two, which meant that officially he qualified as a pony, not a hack, and yet Issie could sense that he had the attitude of a much larger horse.

As she gathered Comet up and asked him to step forward into a walk and then a trot, Issie felt almost
instantly that he was exactly the sort of horse she liked–responsive and peppy. Issie only had to give him the lightest touch with her legs to get him moving.

“Take him on a lap or two around the arena to get used to his paces,” Hester advised her. Issie nodded and asked Comet to trot. He did so immediately, his stride covering the ground in a floating trot with his hocks coming underneath him nicely. His canter too was bouncy and active. Issie felt a thrill of excitement tingle up her spine.

“He's got lovely paces, Aunty Hess!”

Hester smiled. “He's still green, but he has loads of potential. I think you'll get on famously.”

As if to confirm this, Comet raised his head and let out another loud whinny, calling out to the other horses as if to say, “Look at me!” Issie laughed and gave Comet a slappy pat on his glossy neck.

“Well, Comet already thinks he's famous–I guess that's a good start.”

What is a riding instructor supposed to look like?
Issie had fretted about it all morning as she got dressed. Today the riding-school kids would all be arriving and Issie, Stella and Kate had to look the part and impress their new pupils.

She thought about Tom Avery. He always cut such a commanding figure at the Chevalier Point Pony Club in his cream jodhpurs, tweed hacking jacket and a cheesecutter cap on top of his thick thatch of dark, curly hair. A riding crop was permanently in his hand–not to use on the horses, but to thwack against his long leather boots for emphasis when making a point. Issie had flirted with the idea of wearing a cheesecutter cap like Tom's when she was getting dressed, but decided that it looked
a bit too much. She had decided to go with the riding crop, however, and she carried this in her right hand as she walked into the kitchen.

“Ohhh, I wish I'd thought of that,” said Stella. Stella and Kate both had on their best instructor outfits too. Like Issie, they were wearing long boots and jods. Stella had on a pink Ralph Lauren polo shirt and Kate was wearing her short-sleeved shirt and her Chevalier Point Pony Club tie, which looked very smart.

“When are they due to arrive?” Kate asked, pacing back and forth, too nervous to eat her toast, which was going cold on the kitchen table.

“Any time now,” said Issie. “Hester went off in the horse truck an hour ago to pick them up at the train station.”

“Do we need to go down to the stables then?” asked Stella. “Hester said we should meet her there to welcome them.”

“I guess so,” Issie said, looking around nervously. “Hey, where's Aidan?”

“He's meeting us down there,” Kate said. “He said he had to finish fixing something. I heard him hammering.” It turned out that Aidan had been adding a new top railing to the paddock closest to the stables.

“I've made the fence half a metre higher all the way around,” Aidan said with satisfaction as he threw his tool belt down in the corner of the stables.

“So you think it will hold him?” asked Issie.

Aidan nodded. “With that new rail the fence is almost one metre fifty. It would hold a deer. There's no way that little skewbald Houdini is escaping again.”

“Poor Comet,” Issie said. “He's been so fed up with being stabled all week. I bet he can't wait to get back outside.”

Since their arrival at Blackthorn Farm, Issie had spent all her spare time riding Comet. Not that she had much spare time. Hester hadn't been kidding when she said there was a lot to get ready before the kids arrived. The ad on the
PONY Magazine
website had been successful. There were now eight riders signed up to arrive today at Blackthorn Farm Riding School.

“They should be here by now,” Aidan said. “It only takes half an hour to drive back here from the train station…”

As he said this, there was a cacophony of barking as Hester's dogs, Nanook the Newfoundland, Strudel the golden retriever and Taxi the black and white sheepdog, all bounded out of the door of the stables to greet the horse truck that was pulling up in the driveway.

“That'll be them now,” Aidan said.

“Well, shall we go and meet them then?” asked Issie, although she showed no signs of moving.

“Is my tie straight?” Kate asked nervously.

“I feel like I'm going to throw up,” groaned Stella.

“There you are!” Hester said as the girls finally emerged through the wide sliding doors at the front of the stables. The young riders had all emerged from the truck with their bags and were standing beside Hester, staring back at the girls expectantly.

“Everyone, I'd like you to meet your instructors,” Hester said. “This is Isadora, Stella and Kate. These girls are senior members of the Chevalier Point Pony Club. They are all B certificate riders with their own horses and loads of experience under their belts. They will be your tutors here at Blackthorn Farm Riding School and I want you to listen to them and do as they say at all times.” The kids all nodded at this.

“You can leave your bags here for the moment,” Hester said. “You'll be staying in the stable manager's cottage, but first I'm sure you want to meet the horses you'll be riding.”

The riders all followed her through the stable doors and there were gasps of amazement from a couple of the
younger ones as they saw just how vast and impressive the stables were once you got inside. Hester led them through to the centre of the stable block where a row of hay bales had been piled up to serve as seats.

“We've matched you up with your mounts based on your ages and riding abilities,” Hester explained. “In the stalls here today are the horses that you'll be riding for the next three weeks.”

Hester began with the two red-headed girls sitting on the hay bales at the end. The girls were so similar they were clearly identical twins. “This is Tina and her sister Trisha,” Hester said. “They're from Wellington. How old are you, girls?”