so was pony club. The weather was turning rainy and miserable and the club grounds were already getting boggy. Today would be the last rally for a while. For the next month or so, during the very worst of the weather, the club would be closed and most of the Chevalier Point riders, including Issie, had decided to spell their horses over this time, leaving them unridden until conditions improved.
Issie had been torn when she realised that bringing Storm along today meant she would miss her chance to ride Comet at the final rally of the season. She had even thought she might be able to ride Blaze to pony club today for the first time in ages. After all, Storm had been weaned so the mare was able to be ridden again. But Avery had convinced her to leave Blaze and Comet at home. It was more important, he said, to use this opportunity to give Storm his first experience of the grown-up horsey world. This was a vital part of the colt’s training, letting him get used to new sights and sounds, and other horses. Not that there was any point in trying to explain that to Natasha.
“So why are you bringing your foal to pony club? What’s the point of that?” huffed Natasha as she strode over from her fancy blue and silver horse truck where she had been standing to watch Issie unload Storm. “Trying to show off, I suppose. You always have to be the centre of attention, don’t you?”
“I am not showing off!” Issie was taken aback. “Coming here is part of Nightstorm’s training. Avery says—”
“Avery says, Avery says…” Natasha sing-songed back. She cast a glance over her shoulder to make sure Avery was still inside the horse truck and couldn’t hear her before she went on, “You know, some of us don’t care what Avery has to say. He’s just a pony-club instructor. If he was any good then he’d have his own private stables, wouldn’t he?”
“Like Ginty McLintoch, I suppose?” Issie said archly. She was fed up with Natasha banging on about her fabulous, expensive lessons with Ginty, and complaining about Avery’s ‘dated methods’.
“Ginty McLintoch says she’d never teach at a pony club,” Natasha said. “She says she’s too professional to lower her standards—”
“Natasha!” There was a call from the blue and silver horse truck and Mrs Tucker appeared on the ramp, looking flustered. “Natasha! What’s going on? Are you going to unload your horse or do I have to do everything?”
Natasha groaned out loud at her mother’s command, but she did as she was asked and walked back over to her truck, following Mrs Tucker back inside. A few moments later she emerged again leading a horse. Issie had been expecting to see Natasha’s elegant rose-grey, Fabergé. Instead, the horse that appeared was a striking chestnut, about sixteen hands high, with a glossy coat, perfectly pulled mane, flowing tail and two white hind socks.
“His name is Romeo and he’s a purebred Selle Francaise—a French sport-horse!” Natasha said proudly as she led him past Issie and tied him up.
Issie was stunned. “What happened to Fabergé?”
“Fabby’s gone,” Natasha shrugged. “He was never talented enough for me. Ginty was supposed to find me a new horse at Horse of the Year, but really there was nothing there that measured up to my needs.” Natasha said this last part with a nasty sneer and Issie knew this was a dig at Comet. “Anyway, that’s when Mummy suggested that Ginty fly over to Australia and look for a new horse to bring back. That’s where she found Romeo. She insists that Romeo is the perfect horse to take me to the national pony club champs, and—”
“Got a new horse then?” Stella interrupted as she rode up to join them. “Is that because Fabergé kept bucking you off?”
Natasha gave Stella a filthy look. “That wasn’t my fault! Fabergé is too highly strung. Ginty says that’s why we weren’t clicking.”
“Natasha, I don’t know how you can expect to ‘click’ with a horse if you just keep getting new ones every time something goes wrong!” Stella shot back.
“It’s called upgrading,” Natasha sniffed. She cast her eyes over Coco. “You know, you should really think about upgrading too, Stella. You’re so huge your legs are almost dragging on the ground on that pony. What’s the matter? Can’t your parents afford to buy you a new one?”
Stella seemed genuinely hurt by this and Natasha, pleased with the success of her put-down, decided that was the end of the conversation. “I’m glad this is the last rally of the year,” she added icily as she turned to lead Romeo away to the washing bays. “That means I won’t have to put up with you two again for the next few months.”
“God, she is such a cow!” Stella said, pulling a face behind Natasha’s back as she watched her walk away. Then she vaulted out of the saddle to stand beside her horse. “Never mind what Stuck-up Tucker says, Coco, I still love you!” Stella threw her arms around Coco’s neck, giving the mare a snuggle. Coco, who didn’t particularly like snuggles, put her ears back a bit.
“You are getting a bit big for her though, aren’t you?” Issie said gently.
It was true. The girls were fourteen now and Stella had really grown this year. Coco was only thirteen-two hands high and Stella looked enormous on her. Her legs were so long they almost wrapped right around the mare’s tubby brown belly.
“I know…” Stella said. She cast a sneaky sideways glance at Coco, as if she was checking to see if the pony was listening, and then whispered dramatically to Issie with her hand over her face. “I don’t really want to talk about this in front of Coco, but I’ve been looking in the ‘ponies for sale’ pages in PONY magazine. Mum and Dad said that I can sell Coco and get a new pony in time for summer and they’re taking me to look at this fourteen-two roan next week…”
“Stella,” Issie whispered back, “you do know that you don’t have to whisper, don’t you? Coco can’t understand English.”
“Coco understands every word I say, don’t you, Coco?” Stella giggled, stroking her mare’s forelock.
While the girls were talking, Storm had been standing obediently tied up beside them, his head held high, watching everything that was going on around him with bright, wide eyes. Mostly though, he was looking intently at Coco. He gave a high-pitched whinny and stretched to the end of his lead rope, craning his neck to get closer to her.
“Hey, Storm!” Stella said. “Do you want to say hello to Coco?”
Issie nodded. “That’s why we’re here. Tom says it will be good for Storm to socialise with other horses.”
At first, Storm stepped back nervously when Stella led Coco over. After a few moments, though, his curiosity got the better of him and he came closer, stretching his neck out so that he and Coco were touching noses. Coco responded with a stroppy squeal and put her ears flat back, trying to nip at the colt. Nightstorm skittered back to get out of her way.
“Coco! Be nice! He’s just a baby,” Stella scolded. She stood Coco still and waited for Nightstorm to try again. This time the mare reluctantly seemed to accept the colt’s presence. They nickered to each other softly, as if they were making horsey conversation, and within a few minutes they were standing quite happily together.
“Where’s Kate?” Issie wondered.
“She’s waiting for the farrier,” Stella said. “Toby threw a shoe.”
“We have to get her to introduce Toby to Nightstorm too,” Issie said. “Maybe the three
