boy-mad lately, which Issie found very annoying. She hadn’t even thought about what Aidan might be like – but now she realised he would be here tomorrow and they would have to spend the whole day together driving to the farm.
“I’d better tell Dan. I’m sure that will make him jealous,” Stella laughed.
“Stella! Don’t!” Issie said.
Dan had asked Issie out once – at least she thought he’d asked her out – but things got all confused because it turned out he’d asked Natasha too and maybe it had never been a date. Anyway it was all a big mess and nothing had ever happened after that.
Issie sighed. “Oh, go on then. Tell Dan and Ben that I’ve gone away and tell Natasha too while you’re at it; I’m sure she’ll be thrilled that I won’t be competing against her in the dressage.”
Stella groaned. “Ohmygod! Natasha. I’d forgotten about that. She’s going to be unbearable if she wins. Issie! How can you leave me? Don’t go!”
“I’m hanging up now, Stella,” Issie said. “I have to go pack and then I have to clean Blaze’s tack and get her floating boots out and make sure that all her gear is ready to go…”
“OK, OK.” Stella sighed. “But you’d better email me. And if they have no email then send a carrier pigeon or whatever they’ve got up there.”
“Knowing Aunty Hess, I wouldn’t be surprised if she hasn’t trained up a pigeon or two,” Issie giggled. “It’s a deal – I’ll send you a letter by pigeon post.”
Aidan was due to arrive at seven a.m. on Wednesday morning to pick Issie up. But when Issie opened her curtains at six a.m. to check the weather, she saw the horse truck was already parked outside.
“Mum?” she called out as she padded downstairs, still in her pyjamas. “The horse truck is here already.”
“I know,” her mother replied from the kitchen. “Come in and meet Aidan!”
Issie walked through to find her mother making coffee for a young boy in a plaid shirt and jeans who was sitting at the table. The boy, who looked not that much older than Issie, had black hair that fell over his face in a long, floppy fringe almost covering his eyes. He stood up as Issie sat down next to him and stuck out his hand for her to shake.
“Hi,” he said, “I’m Aidan.”
“Hello Issie! I mean… hello, I’m Issie!” Issie said, flustered. She shook Aidan’s hand. “Sorry, I’m not ready to go yet obviously,” she said, looking down at her pyjamas, which she now realised were the ones with pink kittens all over them. “I didn’t expect you to get here so early.”
“I got here late last night and slept in the horse truck,” Aidan said.
“Was that uncomfortable?” Mrs Brown asked.
“It’s better than my bed back at the farm!” Aidan grinned. “It might look like a horse truck on the outside, but the inside is pure luxury. Hester’s got it rigged up with two beds and a shower so we can travel with the horses. There’s a kitchen too,” he added, “but I never use it. I’m not a very good cook.”
“Well, don’t you worry about that, I’ll make you breakfast.” Mrs Brown smiled.
“Thanks, that would be great.” Aidan grinned.
He looked over at Issie, who was fidgeting and looking down at the table, clearly embarrassed to be meeting a boy for the first time dressed in her pussycat pyjamas. Mrs Brown noticed her daughter shifting uncomfortably in her chair. “Issie, it will take a few minutes to get breakfast sorted. Why don’t you go and have a shower and get dressed and I’ll call you when it’s ready?” she suggested.
“Thanks, Mum!” Issie said gratefully.
When she came downstairs for the second time that morning, Issie was ready to go. She was wearing her favourite jeans, a pair of brown leather boots and her favourite T-shirt. Her long dark hair was now neatly combed and tied back in a thick ponytail. She carried a big overnight bag thrown over one shoulder and was dragging a suitcase with her right hand.
“Let me help you.” Aidan smiled, taking the bags off her. “I’ll put these in the truck.” He went out the front door with Issie’s bags and she sat down at the table as her mum dished up her bacon and eggs.
“Aidan’s already eaten. You finish up and then you can get going,” Mrs Brown said as she poured herself a coffee from the plunger and sat down next to Issie. “Aidan will help you load Blaze at the pony club and then you can set off straight from there. Aunt Hess is expecting you in time for tea. I’ve packed you a banana cake to take with you; Hess is terrible at baking. In fact, all her cooking is terrible! You’ll probably come back as skinny as a rake!” Mrs Brown said. She gave Issie a big hug.
“I’ve packed you a big bag of carrots for Blaze too in case she gets hungry during the trip.”
Issie smiled. “Thanks, Mum!” she said.
“Take care, honey. Call me every night, OK?” Mrs Brown was still hugging Issie.
“Mum, you have to let go of me now, I need to leave.” Issie laughed.
“Are we ready to go?” Aidan stuck his head around the kitchen door. “The truck is all packed. Let’s go get this horse of yours.”
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?