supper and went to visit Butch.
“Don’t worry, Butch, it’s just me. Aidan isn’t here,” she reassured the big, black pig. Then she tipped the scraps into his trough and, while he ate, gave him a firm scratch behind the ears with his favourite scratching stick.
Once Butch was fed she headed down past the stables to the cattle pens where Blossom and Meadow were kept. Blossom looked at Issie gratefully with her scary yellow goat eyes as she filled the feed bin with carrots and apple slices.
Issie pulled a carrot out of her pocket. “Count to five, Blossom!” Issie instructed, holding the carrot over the goat’s head just as Aunt Hester had done with Butch the other day. “Count, Blossom!” Issie commanded again.
Blossom looked up, snatched the carrot out of Issie’s hand and then carried on eating.
“Ummm, well, I guess I’ll start training you properly tomorrow,” Issie said.
In the pen next to Blossom, Meadow, a patchy chestnut and white Hereford calf, was pacing up and down waiting for her supper. She gave Issie a friendly lick with her coarse sandpaper tongue as she entered her pen. Issie had heated a bottle full of milk for the young calf and, as she produced the teat, Meadow suctioned on immediately and began to drink, pushing and nudging at Issie as the bottle began to empty.
“Wow! You have a big appetite for a little cow,” Issie said. Meadow had emptied the bottle now and was sucking on Issie’s fingers instead. “Stop it!” she giggled, edging backwards out of Meadow’s pen and locking the gate after herself.
Before she left the stables Issie stopped in once more at Blaze’s stall to say goodnight. “Sleep tight, Blaze,” she said, patting the mare’s velvet-soft nose. Blaze nickered softly in return and Issie gave her one last carrot before she locked the stall doors behind her.
The first day at Blackthorn Farm had given Issie more than enough news to tell her friends. Luckily Aunt Hester did have the Internet so she didn’t need to use carrier pigeons after all. “But what an excellent idea!” Hester had laughed when Issie suggested this as a joke. “Carrier pigeons! I shall have to train some up just in case. We are always having problems with the phone lines here after the autumn storms. A pigeon might come in handy!”
Issie wasn’t sure if her aunt was joking or not. After all, she told Stella in her email, this is a place where it is considered perfectly normal for ducks to open doors, and tomorrow I’m supposed to be teaching the goat how to bow. Aunt Hester says it’s time I filled her shoes and began animal training. Yikes! It’s like I’m Dr Doolittle or something. I can’t believe I am missing the summer dressage series. Say hi to Coco and to Kate and Toby. Miss you. BFF XXX Issie.
Issie only had to wait a few minutes after she’d sent her email before she heard the ping of an email coming back in return.
You think you’ve got it tough? Stella wrote back. I wish I was teaching goats to bark or whatever you’re doing. Meanwhile, I’m stuck here doing the summer dressage series and guess who is winning by, like, a million-kazillion points with her new pony and won’t let any of us forget it? I’ll give you a clue and that clue is STUCK-UP TUCKER! Oh I wish I was at the farm instead with all those animals – it sounds cool. Apart from the bit where you got chased by the thing in the forest and nearly killed by the wild stallion. You’re lucky that Blaze is so fast – if it had been me on old slow-poke Coco we’d have been eaten by the Grimalkin already! BFF Stella XXX
Issie knew Stella didn’t mean to make fun of her, and neither did Aidan really. Still, she wished she had never told anyone about the animal that had chased her and Blaze on the ridge that morning. Now that Issie was safely tucked up in bed at Blackthorn Manor she was beginning to wonder if there really was an animal in the woods or if her mind had been playing tricks on her. It was only natural that Blaze would be a bit spooky in her new home. Perhaps the mare had shied at her own shadow and then bolted? Maybe there wasn’t any animal chasing them. After all, Issie hadn’t actually seen anything, had she?
No, she thought. I didn’t see anything – but I did hear something.
Blaze had heard it too. The mare hadn’t just been spooked – she had been terrified. She wasn’t imagining things. Something was out there; she was sure of it.
Issie fell asleep in her four-poster bed that night thinking about the creature in the woods. The moon was full in the sky outside and she could see the inky crest of the ridge outlined through her bedroom curtains as she dozed off.
When she woke again she guessed it must have been about midnight. The moon was still high in the sky, illuminating the view outside. Issie lay in bed and listened. In the hush of the night she could hear a scratching noise. It was coming from her door. She got up and quietly padded across the floor to open it, and there was Strudel, waiting patiently for her.
“Hello, Strudel. I suppose you want to come in?” Issie said.
The dog began to pad into the bedroom, but then suddenly she stopped. Her ears perked up and she froze. Then she turned tail and raced off again straight down the stairs. Issie grabbed her dressing gown and followed after her. A noise outside made the hairs on the back of her neck bristle as if someone had just walked over her grave. She could have sworn she had just heard the growl of a cat. A very big cat.
Outside on the back veranda Issie found Strudel standing alert. The dog was growling a low, rumbly growl.
“What is it, girl?” Issie said, putting her arm around the golden retriever. “Can you hear something?”
Suddenly a cacophony of squawking and flapping came from the henhouse. Strudel took off in the direction of the noise, her bark raising the alarm for the rest of the farm. Issie paused for a moment, peering blindly into the darkness and wondering what was out there waiting for her. Then she pulled on her boots and ran after Strudel down the driveway. Behind her she heard the barks of Taxi and Nanook, who had both heard Strudel’s cry and were joining in the chase.
Down at the henhouse feathers were flying. The bantams were in a total state of terror, and Issie wished she had brought a torch with her so she could see what was going on. She opened the door to the henhouse and stepped inside, relying on the moonlight to guide her, trying to calm the frantic chickens so that she could check that they were all OK. She was just in the process of counting the chickens in the dark when she heard a squeal coming from the paddocks next to the stables. Strudel, Nanook and Taxi immediately bounded off in the direction of the sound, with Issie following.
The dog’s cries were bloodcurdling and growing more frantic by the time Issie arrived at the stables. She ran past the horses’ stalls to the back door that led out to the duck pond and the cattle pens, pushing the enormous stable door open, and cast her eyes around the pens. The three dogs were barking wildly now.
“What is it, Strudel?” Issie asked. And then she saw the shape looming in front of her. Enormous and black, silhouetted against the night sky. The creature was sleek and huge – bigger than Nanook even – and it was moving fast, padding silently across the top of the fence-line, balanced on the wooden frame of the cattle pens.
The black shape of the Grimalkin disappeared into the darkness. The dogs were going crazy now, barking and wailing so loudly that Issie didn’t hear the footsteps behind her. A hand on her shoulder made her jump.
“Shhh, it’s me!” Aidan’s voice calmed her down. “Just a second – let me find the torch – I’ve got one here somewhere…”
Aidan shone the torch beam on to the cattle pens. Issie peered at fence where she had seen the shadow of the Grimalkin just a moment before. There was nothing there now except the black night sky. Worried that Aidan would think she was silly, Issie couldn’t decide whether to tell him that she’d seen the Grimalkin again. She didn’t need to say anything, though, because Aidan spoke first.
“Go back to the house now, Issie,” he said.
“Why, Aidan, what’s wrong?” Issie moved closer.