can meet the others?”
Issie walked up to the stall. She ran her hand over the carved head on the door. There was no nameplate on the hook, but she could hear her horse nickering softly on the other side of the door.
“Blaze? Hey, girl, it’s me.” Issie said.
The mare went quiet for a moment, listening to Issie’s voice. Then she nickered back, louder this time. Issie could hear her shifting about anxiously in the stall. She opened the top half of the Dutch door and bolted it back. There was Blaze, standing in the far corner of the stall next to her hay net. She nickered happily and came over immediately to Issie, nuzzling her soft muzzle against Issie’s hands, taking a carrot from her palm. Issie raised her hand up and stroked just behind Blaze’s ears, her fingers tangling in the mare’s long flaxen mane.
“Well, isn’t she something!” Aunt Hester said. “Your mother told me the whole story,” she added, “so I knew your Blaze would be a beauty. But she’s more than that, isn’t she? She’s a very special horse indeed.”
Issie nodded silently.
“I know a thing or two about special horses myself,” Hester said. “Come on. I want you to meet them.” Hester walked over to the next stall and unbolted the door. “Come and say hello to Titan,” she said.
Issie walked over and looked into the stall. It was completely empty. “Umm, Aunty Hess? There’s no horse in here.” Issie was confused. She stared at the unoccupied stall and back at her aunt, who had an amused smile on her face. And then she heard a noise, just a faint sound, the sound of a pony’s hooves on the straw. Issie stuck her head right over the top of the Dutch door and there, hidden from view on the other side, was the smallest pony she had ever seen!
“Titan is a Falabella—a miniature horse,” her Aunt said. “Nine hands tall. But such a big little horse, so much character! And quite the bossy-boots too! She keeps the big horses in line, I can tell you. Don’t you, Titan?”
The tiny pony looked up at Issie and Hester. Her eyes were barely visible beneath her shaggy brown mane as she gratefully accepted Hester’s offer of a carrot.
Hester left the top half of the Dutch door open and moved on to the next stall. “This is Dolomite,” she said. Issie looked down, expecting to meet another miniature, but in fact Dolomite was just the reverse; he was an enormous bay Clydesdale with a broad white stripe running down his nose.
“Dolly is eighteen hands,” Hester said. “You’d need a step ladder to get up on him, wouldn’t you?”
Issie reached her hand up to pat Dolomite’s nose. The gelding was so huge she had to stretch to reach him.
“He’s a big softie. And very good for vaulting tricks,” Hester said as she bustled along to the next stall.
“This is Diablo, the silly boy that broke my ankle,” she said merrily. Diablo, a very handsome black and white piebald Quarter Horse, stuck his two-toned face over the stall. “Diablo loves doing cowboy tricks. He’s a bit of show-off but I do love him,” Hester said. “Diablo! Count to ten!” Hester barked at the horse.
The handsome piebald began to tap against the floor of the stall with his hoof, “one…two…three…four…five…six…seven…eight…nine…ten!”
Issie was amazed, but Aunt Hester just shrugged. “It’s not so clever. A simple trick. I’ll show you how it’s done.”
She moved across now to the other side of the stable and worked her way along the row, opening the doors to another two stalls. To Issie’s surprise, each stall contained a palomino. The horses were so alike they were almost identical. “Meet the girls,” Hester said. “That’s Paris Hilton and this one is Nicole Ritchie.” Hester stood there in front of the golden mares. “They’re as pretty as their namesakes but much smarter.” She grinned.
Hester opened the doors to the last two stalls now. “This is Scott,” she said, patting the nose of a large skewbald gelding with a white face. “He’s not the star, you understand, hasn’t got that look-at-me quality in front of the cameras. But he’s a good solid bet as a horse to play supporting roles.”
Issie fed Scott a carrot while Hester walked on to the last stall and gave a soft cluck. In the final stall was a handsome bay gelding. “Tornado is the bad boy of the stable,” Hester sighed. “But he will do absolutely anything you ask if you bribe him with peppermints. He used to be my eventing mount years ago. I still hunt on him occasionally. At least I did until this season.” She tapped her plaster cast and shrugged. “I have tried to teach Tornado tricks like the others but frankly he doesn’t want to know! He’s very bright; I guess he thinks it’s beneath him.” She pulled a mint from her pocket and slipped it to the bay horse, who snuffled it down happily and poked his head over the stall looking for more.
“Well!” Hester put her arm around her niece’s shoulder and gave Issie a squeeze as she looked about contentedly. “Now you’ve met just about everyone. What do you think?”
Issie gave her aunt a hug back. “I think this place is totally mad!” She grinned. “And I think this could be my best holiday ever!”
Issie could feel the waves lapping at her feet. Her toes wriggled in the delicious warm sea. Suddenly a sharp nip on her big toe woke her up and she sat bolt upright in bed. Her feet, which were sticking out from under the duvet, were being vigorously licked by Strudel the golden retriever.
“Ewww! Gross! Strudel, get out!” Issie shrieked, throwing a pillow at the dog, who loped happily off through the door.
Issie jumped out of bed and picked the pillow up off the floor. The alarm clock said it was only six a.m. Bleary-eyed, she changed into her jeans and a navy v-neck jersey before heading downstairs. She wasn’t getting caught by Aidan in her pink pussycat pyjamas in the kitchen a second time.
“Ah-ha! I sent Strudel up to wake you. I see she did her job nicely.” Aunt Hester smiled as Issie walked into the kitchen. “Did you sleep well?”
“Uh-huh,” Issie replied.
“Sit down. I’ve made us some breakfast,” Hester said. She began to dish up some rather strange-looking lumpy objects out of a frying pan.
“Pancakes!” Hester said brightly. Then she frowned and looked at them again, “Or are they griddle scones? I can’t quite remember what I put in the recipe and I got confused halfway through…anyway, here’s some maple syrup, If you pour enough of this on them I’m sure they’ll taste fine!”
Issie ate a mouthful of pancake and discovered that they tasted just as odd as they looked.
“Now,” Hester said as she watched her niece slowly eating, “the weather promises to be just beautiful today. Why don’t you take Blaze and go explore the farm? It goes for miles, you know. I was just about to find you a map and then I got sidetracked with the pancakes…” Aunt Hester put down the pan and began rummaging through the kitchen draws. She pulled out a piece of dog-eared paper. “Here we are—a map of Blackthorn Farm.” Hester spread the pale parchment out on the kitchen table.
“Our land stretches from Blackthorn Forest here at the rear
