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“I’ve telephoned your dad,” Mrs Brown told her, still stroking her hair as she spoke. “He said he would fly up to see you, but I told him it would be OK, that you were likely to be going home tonight. Still, he was very worried about you.”
“Sure he was,” Issie said. Since her mum and dad divorced three years ago it seemed like she hardly even existed. Her father had remarried and had a whole new family in another city now and it had been months since she saw him last. What made her mum think that just because she’d been in an accident he would come running?
“Anyway, he sent you these.” Mrs Brown lifted up a pot of yellow chrysanthemums and plonked them down on the table by Issie’s bed.
“Issie,” Mrs Brown took her daughter’s hand, “when you’re ready to talk about what happened to Mystic…”
“Mum, I don’t want to. Not yet…” Issie was trying hard not to start crying all over again. She looked down at the bed clothes, refusing to meet her mother’s eyes. “Can’t I…can’t we just go home now? I just want it all to be over.”
“I’m sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting?” Doctor Stone entered the room. “Only we really need to get Isadora down to x-ray now.”
Mrs Brown sighed. “Of course. We can talk later when we get home.”
Two hours later, the x-rays had been taken and Doctor Stone’s diagnosis was confirmed: no broken bones, just some bruising, slight concussion and a large swollen lump at the front of her head where the peak of the helmet had connected with the road.
Issie was getting dressed to go home when she heard a knock. “Can we come in?” Stella and Kate stuck their heads around the corner of the door to Issie’s room. Issie gave them a weak smile and the two girls entered the room and sat down beside her bed. Kate looked pale with shock and Stella’s freckled face was flushed hot pink from crying.
“How are Toby and Coco?” Issie wanted to know.
“Well, Toby has gone lame. But it’s nothing serious. The vet thinks it’s a stone bruise from galloping on the gravel but he should be OK in a week or so.” Kate managed a grin.
“And Coco is just fine. She threw a shoe, but she wasn’t hurt,” Stella continued. “In fact, that run is probably the most exercise she’s had in years!”
“If you and Mystic hadn’t caught up with them…” Stella sighed. “Well, it was just the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.” She looked down at her shoes for a moment and then back at Issie. “I mean, I know there’s nothing I can do to bring Mystic back, but Kate and I were thinking…if you wanted to, you could ride Coco and Toby any time you like. We could even work out a roster. You could have Coco on Mondays and Tuesdays and ride Toby on Wednesdays…” She paused as Issie began to cry.
“Oh, Issie, I know it’s not the same as having your own horse but.…”
Issie shook her head. “It’s not that. Don’t you see? I don’t want another horse. Not after what happened to Mystic. I couldn’t…I’m never going to ride again.”
That night, home from the hospital, Issie found it hard to sleep. When she did finally close her eyes, the vision of the grey ghost horse returned. There was the pounding of hooves, and then once again the horse appeared and reared to a halt just out of Issie’s reach.
This time she could see his face more clearly. The smouldering charcoal eyes, the velvety nostrils flared with tension. It was Mystic. She was sure of that now. She held out her hand and the horse whinnied gently, lowering his head so that the tip of his nose traced just above the ground as he stepped towards her. Issie knew that the lowered head was part of “horse language”. It was Mystic’s way of saying, “I know you. I trust you. You’re part of my herd.”
She spoke softly to him now, “Easy, Mystic, easy, boy. It’s me, boy…” Her hand reached out and Issie felt a shock of wonder as her fingers touched the silver tussock of his mane. The sensation of the coarse, ropey hair against her skin was totally real. This horse was no ghost! It was as alive as she was. Why, if she only reached out her other hand and grabbed on to his mane, she was sure she could swing herself up on to Mystic’s back and ride him. Ride him just as she had done before the accident had ruined everything. She reached out a hand, but Mystic stepped backwards and pawed fitfully at the ground with his left front hoof. Then he turned again and galloped off, the silver stream of his tail disappearing into the blackness.
“I know it sounds stupid,” Issie told her mum at breakfast the next day, “but it was as if he was real. I mean, I know it must have been a dream, but it didn’t feel like a dream. It was like Mystic was really there, right in front of me. I even touched him!”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Mrs Brown took her daughter’s small, tanned hand in her own, “you had a bad fall and you’ve been through a terrible experience. It’s only natural that you’ll be pretty shaken up for a while. But you have to face up to what has happened. I know it hurts and you miss Mystic. But you’re lucky to be alive.”
Mrs Brown smiled gently as she reached over and poured out a cup of hot chocolate for Issie and a fresh cup of tea for herself. “Your father and I have discussed the best thing to do about this…” Mrs Brown looked down at her cup of tea. She paused, unable to get the words out. “Isadora, I know how much you love horses. And I know what happened wasn’t your fault. You were very brave to do what you did. But, well, your father agreed with me on this…” Mrs Brown finally looked her daughter in the face.
“Issie, I can’t let you have another horse. It was so terrifying when you were in that hospital bed and I didn’t know whether you would even wake up. I couldn’t go through that again. I am your mother and…oh, Issie, you have to understand I can’t risk something else happening to you. I know that you want to get another horse and—”
“No, Mum, you don’t understand!” Issie felt hot tears well in her eyes. How could her mum even think she would want a new horse? All she wanted was Mystic. She wanted her horse to come back to her. How could she explain to her mother that Mystic was more than just some pony to her? That he had been her closest friend, the one soul that she could confide all her secrets to, because he would never betray her. A kindred spirit who she could trust totally and love absolutely. The most important thing in her life. The truth was, she couldn’t explain it to her mother, or to anyone.
Issie took a deep breath and kept her eyes on the bowl of cereal in front of her. “I don’t care anyway.” Issie could feel the tears running down her cheeks; she wanted to stop crying but she couldn’t. She wiped her cheeks roughly with her sleeve and faced her mother. “I said that I was never going to ride again, and I meant it.”
CHAPTER 5 (#ulink_ead848b4-f918-5e0c-8966-e7734eddb82b)
“You know Lisa Jones?” Stella was chattering away and looking absent-mindedly for a book in her school bag as they walked into Mrs Carter’s classroom for fourth period maths. “Well,” Stella continued, “her family moved to the Hawkes Bay and she had to go to this new school. I think it’s called Iona College. Anyway, it’s very posh and they get to ride horses at school. Can you believe it? Horse riding is actually a school subject! So instead of doing a stinky old maths class, you could go riding instead. Lisa grazes her horse there and she’s allowed to go and check on him at lunchtimes, and they even have proper stables with loose boxes to keep them in. I mean, that would be so cool, wouldn’t it?”
Issie just nodded, and headed for the back of the classroom, taking her usual seat at the far corner of the room. She was sick and tired of hearing stories about horses and how much fun they were. It seemed like ever since she told Stella and Kate that she wasn’t going to ride any more, the pair of them had been trying to come up with new ways to get her interested in riding again. OK, she knew her friends were just trying to help, but she wished they would leave her alone.
Stella leaned over from her desk and whispered to Issie, “Hey, Kate and I were thinking that after school, if you’re not busy—”
Issie groaned and cut her off in mid-sentence, “Stella, I don’t want to go riding. Not this afternoon. Not ever!”
“OK, OK, get over yourself,” Stella sneered back. “What I was going to say is that me and Kate, well, you know how Kallista Field has a pierced belly button? Well, they do piercings at Lacey’s chemist shop and we were thinking of getting them done too.”
Of course Issie knew all about Kallista Field. There were always stories about the young dressage rider in PONY Magazine. Issie even had pictures of Kallista up on the wall in her bedroom. Kallista wasn’t just a good rider, she was also tall and beautiful with long blonde hair. And she had a pierced belly button. Issie had seen it in photos and she had to admit, it did look pretty cool.
Stella kept on talking, “Kate says she still can’t decide whether to get one or not. But we were talking to Louisa Bull – she’s really cool, she’s a fourth former but I know her because she’s in my house—anyway, she has one and it looks so fab and she says it didn’t hurt much at all.” She poked Issie in the tummy and grinned. “You would look so good with one, Issie. So what do you say? Are you in?”
Issie winced and pulled up her jersey to look at her naked belly button. It was an innie, not an outie, a small, delicate whirl in the middle of her olive-skinned tummy. She imagined the piercing gun clamped over it, driving a steel ring through her skin.
“I don’t know…” Issie muttered. “Mum wouldn’t be too keen on it…”
“It’s OK,” Stella insisted. “I asked Penny and she said she would take us, so you don’t need to ask your mum.”
Penny was Stella’s older sister. She was much older than Stella and was in her first year at university. The two sisters both had the same curly red hair and freckles—and the same naughty streak too. If anything, Penny was even wilder than her little sister. And Stella always wanted to do what Penny did. Penny already had her belly button pierced – and her tongue!
“Come on,” Stella was whining. “Your mum won’t even notice. We’ll all do it together. It’ll be fun.”
Issie took her hand off her stomach and tucked the thin cotton of her school shirt back into her skirt, smoothing it down flat. She had always wanted to get a piercing. Even plain pierced ears weren’t allowed at Chevalier Point High. But a belly button? Who would ever notice it underneath your school uniform?
OK, so her mum would kill her if she found out. But who cared? Besides, why shouldn’t she have some fun and do something exciting for once? She was so tired of feeling this way, tired of being numb and depressed. Maybe Stella was right. It would look pretty cool to have a belly-button ring like Kallista.
“What sort of rings are there?” Issie sighed.
Stella let out a squeal of delight. “Yay! I knew you’d say yes! This is going to be great! There’s plain silver ones, or you can get ones with a stone in them,” Stella continued. “I was thinking of getting maybe a purple stone like an amethyst but you can get whatever you want.” She looked at Issie’s screwed-up face. “I swear. Honestly. It doesn’t hurt!”
A couple of hours later, Issie wished she had never taken Stella’s word for it. There she was, lying flat on her back on the thin white chemist shop bunk bed, looking down at her skin stretched taut under the clamp of the piercing gun. There was a felt-tip dot on her belly button where the ring would pierce the skin, and a woman with too much make-up on was busily daubing her tummy with antiseptic solution.
“Now take a deep breath and breathe out as the needle goes through,” the woman instructed. Issie looked away from the gun, trying not to think about it as she sucked in a deep lung full of air. As she breathed out she felt a sudden rush of pain.
“There. You’re done.” The woman smiled. Issie looked down at her newly decorated navel. It was red and tingling. “You’ll have to keep it very clean for the first couple of weeks while it heals, and whatever you do, don’t take the ring out,” the woman instructed, passing Issie some antiseptic to take home with her. “And try not to wear clothes that rub on it and irritate the site.”
“I can’t believe you two went through with it!” Kate shrieked as the three girls came out of the chemist into the bright sunlight to meet her.
“What? I can’t believe you chickened out on us!” Stella teased her back.
“I didn’t!” Kate insisted. “I never said I would get one. I only said I was thinking about it.” She leaned down and peered closer at Issie’s red, swollen belly button and pulled a face. “Eugh! Does it hurt?”
Issie looked pleased with Kate’s reaction. “Not really,” she lied. In fact, she could feel her tummy button all hot and throbbing where the ring had gone through.
“You know,” Stella began, “when Louisa Bull had hers done she told me that it went all infected and she woke up one morning and, oh, this is really going to gross you out, her mum had to take her to hospital because—”
“Stella! I thought you told me that Louisa’s belly button looked really cool?” Issie yelped. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened!” Penny snapped. “Stella! She didn’t go to hospital, she just went to the doctor and he gave her some ointment to put on it and sent her home again. Stop exaggerating and making up horrible stories.”
Penny pulled up her own t-shirt to show them her belly button. It had a silver ring with a green glass leaf dangling down from it. “Look, I’ve had my piercing for two years now and it’s fine,” she reassured Issie.
“I was just joking!” Stella insisted, grinning mischievously. “Hey, Issie, let’s go back to your house and try on clothes. I need to find a tank top that will show off my tummy button.”
The Browns had lived in the same house ever since Issie was little. It was a two-storey wooden home, surrounded by rambling, overgrown gardens. From Issie’s bedroom upstairs she had a view down over the big back lawn to the grove of trees at the end of the garden.
The view inside Issie’s bedroom, however, was one big mess. The girls had spent the past hour trying on everything in Issie’s wardrobe and the place looked like a stall at a jumble sale. There were pairs of jeans and shoes thrown all over the floor, and the bed was stacked so high with piles of clothes that you could barely see Stella and Kate, who were flopped down in the middle of it all on top of the duvet.
Issie stepped out of the wardrobe. She had stripped off the light-green pleated skirt and white shirt of her school uniform and was wearing a purple floral crop top and dark blue camouflage pants. She stood in front of the mirror to admire her new look. For once, her skinny boyish figure was working to her advantage. The pants hung down so low on her hips they exposed her stomach, showing off the freshly pierced navel.
Issie stared at her tummy button. It was still swollen and red, and even though she would never admit it, she was a little worried about what she had done. Stella’s story had scared her. What if the piercing really was turning septic? The skin around the ring did actually look all red and raw and it was hurting a lot more than she had thought it would.
Issie shrugged off her fears. At least Stella had been right about one thing, she thought, that silver ring did look pretty cool. It suited her, the slim metal circle resting perfectly against her tanned belly.
Issie was wiggling the ring and gazing at her reflection when she suddenly noticed the other two girls staring at her. Feeling embarrassed to suddenly be the centre of attention, she struck a ridiculous supermodel catwalk pose, pouting and throwing her head back, one hand on her hip, the other raised to blow a kiss to an imaginary camera.
The two girls fell about on the bed laughing. Stella was snorting so hard she was almost choking and Issie collapsed on to the duvet next to her in a fit of giggles.
As she lay there panting with laughter she realised this was the first time since the accident that she had been able to forget about Mystic and have some fun.
“Wait, wait!” Stella leapt up and grabbed a pair of sunglasses off the dressing table. She put them on, along with a pair of foolishly high heels that Issie had borrowed out of her mum’s room, and began strutting up and down the bedroom. “Who am I?” she asked giggling. “I’ll give you a clue,” she added, clearing her throat and talking in a mock posh voice. “I want a new pony! I want to go snowboarding! I’m a spoilt brat!”
“Oh, don’t…” Issie tried to stop laughing so that she could get the words out. “…we shouldn’t make fun of Natasha. It’s mean.”
“That’s easy for you to say!” Stella snapped. “You haven’t had to put up with her at pony-club rallies for the past month. Honestly, she is such a snob she won’t even speak to Kate and me! At lunchtimes she ties her horse up at the other end of the paddock and refuses to even come near us.”
Stella looked distracted for a moment, then she bent over and examined her stomach. “I hope this ring doesn’t get caught on my jodhpurs when I’m riding.” She frowned.
Then she noticed Issie throwing her a sulky look.
“Oops. Sorry, Issie. I keep forgetting that you don’t want to talk about horses.” Stella smiled. “I guess I just can’t believe it, really. I know you feel awful about what happened to Mystic. But it was an accident. And, well, I don’t mean to be harsh, but Mystic was really old. So at least he didn’t have much longer to live anyway.”
Issie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was used to her friend’s lack of tact. Stella had a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. But this was a bit much even from her. How would she feel if it was Coco that had died? Issie was trying so hard to hold back the tears that she felt too choked up to say anything. She wanted to say that Mystic was special. That he was her horse and that he may have been old but he had a young spirit that refused to give up. She wanted to tell her two friends how she still saw him every night. A silver ghost horse, too real to be just a dream. So real he felt like flesh and blood. Somehow Mystic was still there with her. She just wished she knew why.
The phone in the hallway rang. “I’ll get it,” Issie squawked, keen to escape this dreadful conversation, and the horrible feeling of tears welling up yet again in her eyes. She ran down the corridor, sliding on the hall rug as she made a grab for the receiver. It was Tom Avery’s voice on the other end of the line.
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you since this morning.” Avery sounded serious. “Listen, Issie, something has come up. Can you meet me down at the horse paddock tomorrow morning at around eight?” He paused. “And bring the key to the tack room with you.”
When Issie asked him why, Avery became even more mysterious. “I need you to help me with something, that’s all,” he said, hanging up before she had a chance to ask any more questions.
Before Issie went to bed that night she set her alarm clock and laid out her favourite old faded blue jeans and a pair of boots to wear the next morning. She hadn’t spoken to Avery at all since the accident. And now this. Why was he being so mysterious? And what did he need her help for?
She sat down on the bed and pulled up her pyjama top to have one last look at her newly pierced belly button before she went to sleep. “Oh, well,” she muttered to herself, wiggling the little silver ring with her index finger, “nothing could surprise me now.”
But she was wrong.
CHAPTER 6 (#ulink_e5c8e453-db04-57be-a7b8-f3c15c78cec5)
The pony-club paddocks were deserted when Issie arrived, except for the horses dotted about the field, grazing in the morning sun. Avery was nowhere to be seen, so Issie climbed over the fence and unlocked the tack room.
Standing in the tack room, she felt a rush of emotion as she looked at the hook and saddle horse where she had kept Mystic’s things. His leather halter and canvas paddock cover were still hanging there, but the saddle horse was bare. When Mystic had gone under the truck, her beloved Stubben saddle had been destroyed too. Not that it mattered, Issie reminded herself. She didn’t need a saddle because she wasn’t going to ride ever again.
As a further reminder of her vow, up there on the wall next to the empty saddle rack was a photograph. It was her and Mystic; taken the day that she had first brought the dapple-grey here to his new home. It must have been the end of winter, because Mystic’s coat was thick and fluffy with winter growth. His mane was long and flowing; it obviously hadn’t been pulled in months. His eyes were dark and steady, staring straight at the camera. And there she was with him, the wind whipping her long dark hair across her face so that her eyes were barely visible. She had one hand on Mystic’s wither and the other holding his lead rope. They made the perfect team.
“There you are!” Avery’s voice behind her made her jump. “Come on out for a moment, I’ve got something to show you. Oh, and bring that halter. You’re going to need it.”
Issie emerged into the sunlight to see Avery’s horse truck parked outside the gate. He climbed back into the cab again and gestured for her to swing the gate open to let him drive through.
As Issie closed the gate behind him, she watched Avery ease the vehicle alongside the loading ramp. When he pulled the truck to a stop, she could hear the uncertain shift of hooves against the matting floor. There was a horse in there! Of course! Why else would Avery tell her to bring a halter with her. But which horse? She looked out across the paddock to see Toby and Coco both grazing peacefully at the far end of the field. It wasn’t them on the truck then, but…The stamp of hooves became more restless and the high-pitched nicker of a horse could clearly be heard from inside the truck.
Avery leapt down from the driver’s seat and strode over to her. “Good, good,” he said. “All set then? Let’s go!” He began to unbolt the doors. “Issie you go in and put her halter on. We’ll put her in the pen by the tack room for the time being.”
“What? What are you talking about?” Issie didn’t understand.
“Oh, right. I’m sorry.” Avery smiled. “It’s a horse, Issie. And I want you to have her.” He held up his hand to stop her cries of protest. “Look, I didn’t mean to spring it on you like this. I understand how much it hurt you to lose Mystic. And maybe it is a little soon to expect you to get back into the saddle again. But I had no choice. You know about my work with the International League for the Protection of Horses, don’t you?”
Issie nodded.
“It’s my job to investigate reports of horses that are being mistreated or badly looked after by their owners. And if those horses are being neglected, then it’s also my job to take them away and find new homes for them. People can be unbelievably cruel,” Avery continued, shaking his head, unable to disguise the disgust in his voice. “Can you even imagine, Issie? No grass to eat, just dirt to live on. A paddock no bigger than a cattle pen. When the horse protection league found this mare, she was…well, you’ll see for yourself in just a moment what sort of a state she is in.
“Issie, I know it’s not fair to ask this from you. This mare is in a delicate condition. She’s very sick, one of the worst cases I’ve ever seen.” Avery’s face was grim. “She needs round the clock care from someone who really understands horses if she’s going to pull through. Even then she may not survive…And I know you’re still hurting from losing Mystic. But when I saw her I knew that you were the one to take care of her. To love her. Because she’ll need someone like you, someone who truly loves horses, who has a way with them, to bring her back to life.”
A faint, nervous whinny came from behind the door. “Now, come on,” Avery looked at her intently, “what do you say?”
Issie knew that there was nothing she could say. She just nodded to Tom, and stepped to the side so that he could open the door and let her in.
In her worst nightmares, Issie had never seen anything like the sight that was now before her. In the centre stall of the truck stood a chestnut mare. At least Issie supposed she was a chestnut. The pony’s coat was so covered in mud, and worn thin in great patches, that you could hardly tell what colour she was at all. From beneath the caked mud, her ribs stuck out sharply through her skin. Her rump, rather than being rounded and firm, was hollowed out where the muscles should have been. And the pony’s legs were covered in mud sores. But it was the pony’s expression which upset Issie most of all. The little mare wouldn’t even raise her head to look at Issie, and when she finally did look her way, her eyes showed pure terror. As Issie got closer the mare let out a long, low snort of fear. But she didn’t attempt to back away. It was as if her spirit was so broken she didn’t care what happened to her any more.
“Easy now, girl,” Issie cooed as she put the halter on. The chestnut mare flinched away from her hands as Issie fastened the halter buckle, but she was too weak to put up much of a fight. “Easy now,” she murmured again, stroking the length of the mare’s slender neck. Underneath the dry mud on her legs Issie could make out four white socks, and down the mare’s dainty face ran a white blaze.
“What’s her name?” Issie asked Avery as she tried to cluck the mare into moving forward and out of the truck stall.
“Doesn’t have one, I’m afraid,” Avery said. “At least, we don’t think she has a name. We never did track down the people who did this to her. We’re trying to trace the owners so that animal cruelty charges can be laid against them, but it’s not easy. So…no owners and no name.”
“I think we should call you Blaze,” Issie whispered to the mare, “after that pretty white blaze that’s running down the middle of your face.”
“Hey, hey, wait a minute,” Avery smirked, “you can’t just go ahead and name this horse.” He paused. “Unless, that is, unless you’re willing to keep her?”
“Oh, Tom,” Issie sighed, “of course I’ll keep her. Like you said, I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“You understand the rules of the ILPH, don’t you?” Avery asked. “If a horse comes into our care we can appoint a guardian for that horse. But that’s all you will ever be to Blaze – her guardian. You don’t own her, so she’s not yours to sell. If you ever change your mind about her or can’t look after her you must return her to the League and they’ll find a new home for her.”
Issie nodded, then turned to the chestnut mare. “Do you hear that, girl? I’m your new guardian. And I’m going to take real good care of you. Come on now, come out and see your new home.”
Issie led Blaze down the truck ramp and her heart nearly broke as she watched the little mare, all wobbly on her feet, gingerly putting one hoof in front of another.
She tied the chestnut to a fence rail. It had been hard to really examine her in the truck. Now, in the bright sunlight, she stood back and took a long hard look. She was definitely a pony, not a horse; Issie guessed she stood somewhere between fourteen and fourteen-two hands high. And there was no doubt that she was well bred. Even in such pitiful condition the mare showed signs of her Arab bloodlines. The classic dished nose and finely pricked ears gave her away. As did her legs, slender and delicate like a ballet dancer’s.
