Stella and Kate couldn’t believe it when Issie told them her news at school the next day.
“You are soooo lucky!” Stella breathed excitedly. “I am so jealous! Ginty was really watching you at the pony club that day, when you thought she just wanted to buy Comet! Do you think she needs any more riders?”
Stella’s holiday job was restocking the shelves each night at the local supermarket, and she wasn’t thrilled with it. “We have to wear smocks and hairnets,” she groaned. “It’s going to be awful.”
“Have you told Tom yet?” Kate asked.
“No.” Issie shook her head. “I’m going to Winterflood Farm tomorrow after school to help out with a new rescue pony that he’s just brought in. I thought I would tell him then.”
“I thought Tom didn’t like Ginty?” Stella said.
“He doesn’t,” Issie admitted, “but when I explain to him how I didn’t really have a choice, I’m sure he’ll be OK about it.”
She was dead wrong.
“You can’t work for Ginty,” Avery told her point blank when she broke the news.
“But Tom, if I don’t take the job Mum will make me spend the holidays at her office and I won’t get to ride at all—”
“Anything is better than working for that atrocious woman,” Avery said.
“Why?” Issie was confused. “I know Ginty has different methods from you—”
“You’ve got no idea!” Avery said, clearly refusing to back down. “Issie, you don’t understand the pressure you’ll be under riding for Dulmoth Park. Ginty’s got financial backers with big wallets and huge expectations. It’s all about making money for her, and she’s willing to do whatever it takes to win.”
“So she’s competitive. There’s nothing wrong with that,” Issie insisted. “I know it’s a big step for me, working at a professional stables, but I can handle myself. Besides, when we were in Australia a couple of months ago you were willing to let me move to Kentucky to go to Blainford. Now I’ve got a holiday job and you’re acting like it’s a big deal!”
“This is different,” Avery said coolly. “Tara Kelly is a brilliant trainer and Blainford Academy is the best riding institution in the world. I was only doing what was best for you—”
“I’m fifteen years old!” Issie objected. “I’m not a kid any more, and you need to stop deciding what’s best for me! You’re not my dad, you know. You’re just my pony-club instructor!”
The words came out before Issie could stop them. And then she saw the pain in Avery’s eyes, deep disappointment written all over his face.
“Tom,” Issie stammered, “I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“It’s OK,” Avery said quietly. “And you’re right, this is your decision. I can’t make your mind up for you. Maybe it’s time for you to try a new instructor. Maybe this is a good thing.”
And with that he turned his back on Issie and headed towards the stable block.
“Tom?” Issie called running after him. “Wait…I thought you wanted me to help with the new pony?”
Avery turned back to look at her. “No, Issie, I think it’s probably best if you go home. I can cope with the pony on my own.”
In all the time she had known Tom Avery, Issie had never heard such hurt in her instructor’s voice. As she watched him walk away, she wondered whether she was really doing the right thing. But it was too late to change her mind now. She had already told Ginty that she would take the job. She was starting work at Dulmoth Park on Monday.
Issie stared up at the horse towering above her. It was rearing up on its hind legs, with a tousled mane and wild eyes. She put a hand out to stroke the horse and felt cool, smooth marble against her skin. There was the security keypad, embedded in the pedestal below the statue, just as Ginty had described it. The letters on the pad lit 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