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.
