up bright blue at the touch of her fingertips as she carefully coded in the password Ginty had given her — w-i-n-n-e-r.
The sleek, state-of-the-art metal gates beside the statue slid open and Issie wheeled her bike through the grand entrance and into the manicured grounds of Dulmoth Park.
Issie had got up at 6 a.m. to make it to work on time. She had dressed, eaten breakfast and then cycled the half-hour journey along the main road past the pony club and the Chevalier Point airfield to reach the stables. She had hoped that maybe her mum would drive her to work, but Mrs Brown had laughed when Issie suggested this.
“You want me to drive you to work before seven?” Her mum was horrified. “You must be joking! I’m not getting up at dawn each day to be a taxi service.”
It had been hard to force herself out of bed, but once she was up and on her bike, Issie actually enjoyed the ride to the stables. The morning air was crisp, and as she cycled up the driveway of Dulmoth Park the grounds looked pristine and perfect with the dawn light tinting everything golden.
As she rode past the white post and rail fences, Issie noticed that Dulmoth Park’s paddocks were eerily empty. There were no horses grazing. Even in summer, when New Zealand nights were warm and most horses were left out to pasture, Ginty had a reputation for keeping her horses stabled. Right now the horses would still be tucked up snugly in their loose boxes, waiting for their day to start.
The stable complex at the end of the long driveway had the air of a posh racehorse training facility. The driveway forked in three directions and there was a series of smart, creosoted black buildings surrounded by well-pruned trees and neat lawns.
Issie had just dismounted from her bike and was wondering which path to take when suddenly two very yappy, angry-looking Jack Russells came charging out from the building right in front of her.
The dogs were barking their heads off as they bore down on her. They were just a few feet away and closing in fast when a sharp whistle made them stop in their tracks.
“Hoi! Jock! Angus!” Ginty McLintoch called out.
At the sound of Ginty’s voice Jock and Angus sat down obediently, waiting for their mistress to catch up.
“I’m sorry about that,” Ginty said. “They’re very suspicious of strangers.” She smiled at Issie. “They’ll be fine now that they can see you’re with me.”
Issie put out her hands to scratch the two Jack Russells under the chin. “Hi Jock, hi Angus!” She smiled at Ginty. “I love dogs. I’ve got a blue heeler at home.”
“A blue heeler?”
“An Australian cattle dog,” Issie explained.
“Good around horses?” Ginty asked.
“Wombat’s brilliant with horses.”
“Wombat?” Ginty was confused. “I thought you said he was a dog?”
“He is a dog,” Issie said. “His name is Wombat. I got him in Australia…it’s kind of a long story.”
“Well,” Ginty said briskly, clearly not interested in hearing it, “as long as he doesn’t bother the horses and he can put up with Jock and Angus, then you’re welcome to bring him to work with you.”
“Really?” Issie couldn’t believe it. “That would be amazing!”
“You can park your bike in the equipment room,” Ginty told her. “It’s just through that doorway beside the office.” She looked at her watch. “I’d better go down to the stables. I’ve got another new junior groom starting today as well. Come and join us there when you’re ready.”
The equipment room was stocked with jump stands and painted rails. Issie leant her bike against the wall and unzipped her backpack. She’d already put her helmet on for the bike ride and she grabbed her back protector out of the backpack and slipped it on too before heading for the stable block.
Up ahead of her at the stable entrance Ginty was engrossed in conversation with two girls who looked a couple of years older than Issie. They were both dressed exactly the same, in smart cream jodhpurs, work boots and dark purple sweatshirts with the letters DP embroidered on them in swirly gold. The DP obviously stood for Dulmoth Park.
“Issie,” Ginty called out, “come and meet my senior grooms.”
The two girls looked up at Issie and the one with freckles and honey-coloured hair in a ponytail gave her a warm smile.
“Hi!” The honey-blonde gave a wave. “I’m Penny.”
The girl next to Penny had brown hair cut in a short pixie crop. She didn’t smile or say hello, she just stared at Issie suspiciously.
“This is Verity — my head groom,” Ginty said, taking over on the introductions since Verity clearly wasn’t going to introduce herself. “Verity and Penny have both been with me for two seasons already, so they know the ropes,” Ginty continued. “I’ve asked Verity to assign you and Natasha your work rosters. You’ll find details on the blackboard just inside the front door of the stables.”
Issie froze. Did Ginty just say Natasha? No, it couldn’t be…
At that moment the gates to Dulmoth Park slid open and a silver Mercedes glided down the driveway. Issie recognised the car straight away, and the sour-faced blonde sitting inside it.
Natasha Tucker emerged from the passenger seat looking utterly miserable, grabbed her bag, muttered a dismissive goodbye to her mother and then slammed the Mercedes door shut. She glared after the car as Mrs Tucker drove off again.
“Good morning, Natasha.” Ginty smiled at her. “I believe I told you it was a 7 a.m. start, so let’s try to be on time in future.”
“Whatever!” Natasha groaned.
Issie would never have spoken to Ginty like that, but the trainer seemed to let Natasha get away with it. She ignored the comment and continued, “I was just doing introductions. You know Verity and Penny already, and I’m sure you know Isadora too?”
“We go to pony club together,” Natasha confirmed, looking far from pleased to see Issie.
“I’ve just been explaining the roster,” Ginty said. “Verity will organise it so that you and Isadora are each in charge of six horses. You’ll need to do all the feeds and have the first horse ready in the arena by eight each morning to begin schooling. Everything is written down for you on the blackboards in the tack room, but if you have any questions about the way we do things here, then check with Verity.”
This clearly didn’t sit well with the head groom, who didn’t seem keen on answering any questions. She was already edging towards the stables, trying to get away. “Can I go now?” she asked. “I’ve still got to sort out Tottie and Flame’s hard feeds. We’re already running late.”
Ginty nodded. “Take Issie with you to help.”
Verity grunted, and Issie figured that must mean she should follow as the head groom set off towards the far end of the stables.
The feed room was nothing like the tatty old tack shed where the
