Fortune and the Golden Trophy (3 page)

“OK,” Issie said with an air of resignation. She had dreamt about seeing Aidan so often over the past month, but those dreams definitely didn’t involve him turning up with a nutty piebald pony to dump on her before racing off again.

As Aidan grabbed Avery’s car keys and headed for the door Issie walked with him. She was beginning to think Aidan was going to leave without giving her a kiss goodbye, but then at the last minute he leaned over and gave her a hasty peck on the cheek. The cheek! What sort of kiss was that? Aidan, meanwhile, was looking decidedly uncomfortable again. Something was definitely up.

“Is anything wrong?” asked Issie nervously.

“Yeah, well, I had something I wanted to say to you…” Aidan said.

“What is it?” Issie felt her pulse quickening. What was going on? Was he trying to break up with her? Was that it?

They stood there for a moment on the front step, both of them afraid to speak. And then, just as Aidan was about to open his mouth, Mrs Brown appeared beside them.

“You forgot your coat,” she said, handing Aidan a navy puffa jacket.

He froze with embarrassment, being caught in an awkward moment by Issie’s mum. “Thanks,” he mumbled, taking the jacket. Then he looked at Issie. “Anyway, I’ll talk to you later, OK?” he said. “I’ll give you a call.” And with that, he headed off down the front steps towards the gate.

Aidan was just opening the gate when Issie suddenly realised she’d forgotten to ask him a very important question.

“The piebald!” she called out after him. “What’s his name?”

Aidan turned to look at her. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask that,” he said. “I’ve had no luck coming up with anything so far. I’m stuck, I’m afraid. I thought I’d leave it up to you.”

“How about Snoozy?” Issie suggested sarcastically.

“Up to you,” Aidan said. “He’s your horse for now.” He looked at his watch. “Oh, man, I’ve gotta go. Avery will be waiting!” He looked intently at Issie. “I’ll call you, OK? Good luck with the piebald.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Issie muttered under her breath as Aidan waved goodbye. “Thanks a whole bunch…”

The Coco mystery was solved not long after Aidan departed when there was a knock at the door.

“That’ll be Stella,” Mrs Brown said. “I told her you’d be home shortly. She said she was coming over as soon as you were back.”

When Issie opened the door Stella leapt through it and smothered her friend in a mammoth hug.

“You’re back!” she squealed. “Ohmygod! I missed you so much. Heaps of stuff has happened and it’s been awful not having you here…”

“I just went down to the River Paddock,” Issie interrupted her. “Where’s Coco?”

“That’s what I mean about it being awful,” Stella said. Her expression was grim beneath her red curly
hair. “Coco is gone.”

“Gone? Where? What do you mean?”

“I sold her.”

“What?” Issie was stunned. “When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Last week. I didn’t tell you because you weren’t here obviously,” Stella said glumly. “I was getting so big on her—I had to sell her really. Remember how you said my feet were almost dragging on the ground?”

“Did you have to do it while I was away?” said Issie. “I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye to her!”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Stella said, “but they wanted to take her immediately.”

She looked really miserable. “I wish you’d been here when she left. It was so awful watching them load her on the horse float and drive away. I’ve been crying all week.”

“Who bought her?” Issie asked.

“Do you remember Kitty from the riding school at Blackthorn Farm?” Stella sniffed. “Well, her mum said she could finally have her own pony and so they came and tried Coco out, and Kitty totally fell in love with her.”

“Stella, that’s great!” said Issie. “Kitty is super-nice and she’s a really good rider.”

Stella didn’t seem at all cheered up by this. The idea of
her precious Coco being ridden by anyone else, even Kitty, didn’t make her any happier. “She’s all right I suppose,” she agreed grudgingly.

“But what about pony club?” Issie pointed out. “The new season is just about to start. It’s only a week until our first rally. What will you do?”

“That’s my big news!” Stella perked up. “He arrives tomorrow, so I’ll have him in time for the first rally next weekend.”

“Who arrives tomorrow?” Issie was confused.

“My new horse!”

“You’ve got a new horse already?”

“Well, not exactly,” Stella admitted. “He’s just on trial. I had one ride on him to try him out and now they’ve let me take him for a week to see if we get on. His name is Misty and he’s a fleabitten grey.”

“Has Tom checked him over yet?”

Stella shook her head. “He said he’d have a look at him for me this week before the first rally day.”

“I can’t believe it’s the beginning of the season already!” Issie said. “I wish I only had one horse. Now I’m stuck with three of them at once.”

Stella rolled her eyes. “Issie! Just listen to yourself! Complaining because you have too many horses?
Most riders would kill to have just one pony and you’re lucky enough to have three.”

“I know,” Issie checked herself. “I mean it’s amazing having three horses, but honestly, how will I cope? I was really looking forward to riding Blaze and Comet this season and now this great piebald lump from Blackthorn Farm has turned up and I have to train him too…”

“So Aidan just dropped him off and left him with you?” Stella said.

“Pretty much.” Issie nodded. She was still thinking about how odd Aidan had been when he’d turned up. Had he been trying to break up with her? If he was, she didn’t feel ready to tell Stella about it. Not yet anyway.

“What’s the piebald like?” Stella asked.

“He’s really tubby with a bit of a Roman nose and he’s got big black and white patches.”

“Does he have a name?”

Issie shook her head. “Aidan says I have to name him.”

“That is so cool!” Stella grinned. “I’ve always wanted to name my own horse.”

“What do you think I should call him then?”

“How about Tonto?” Stella said. “You know, like the Lone Ranger because he’s a cowboy colour?”

“What about Patchy?” Issie suggested.

“You’re kidding, right?” Stella pulled a face. “I tell you what, why don’t you come over to my house with Kate tomorrow night before the AGM. We can order a pizza and come up with pony names together.”

“OK,” Issie agreed.

“It must be awful for the poor piebald,” said Stella. “Imagine not knowing what you’re called! No wonder he’s a bit odd. I’m sure you’ll get on better once you’ve named him.”

Issie hoped Stella was right. Maybe her feelings about the new horse would change once he had a name, but right now the only thing she could think of calling him was a big fat nuisance.

From the very start, the following night was a disaster. First of all, the pizza arrived late and the girls were grossed out when they took a bite and discovered it had anchovies on it. Then the pony-naming session wasn’t a great success either. Stella and Kate’s list of suggestions all sounded like cuddly toys.

“I am not calling my horse Mr Snuggles!” Issie finally snapped.

“Geez, OK!” said Kate. “There’s no need to get grumpy.”

It was at that point that Stella’s mum, Mrs Tarrant, put her head round the bedroom door. “The AGM begins in ten minutes,” she said. “Pile into the car and let’s go!”

By the time Mrs Tarrant and the girls arrived at the Chevalier Point clubroom, most of the rows of fold-out chairs were already filled up with club members and their parents. There were loads of other riders that the girls hadn’t seen since last season and the first person that they bumped into was Morgan Chatswood-Smith.

“You’re back!” Issie said, giving Morgan a huge hug.

“How was the showjumping circuit?” asked Stella.

Morgan’s mum, Araminta, was a professional showjumper, and for the past season she had taken Morgan on the road with her, touring the country with her string of showjumping horses.

“Pretty cool,” Morgan said, “but you have to work really hard. I was doing loads of grooming for the other riders and I hardly ever got to do any riding myself.”

“At least you didn’t have to go to school! I would kill for three whole months without school work,” Stella said.

Morgan shook her head, “I wish! I still had to do the work—Mum home-schooled me. And you know how tough she can be about horse riding? Well, she’s even worse with maths!”

The girls nodded knowingly at this. When Issie first met Morgan she had been envious of her having such a famous horse-riding mum. But when Araminta put too much pressure on her daughter to compete Morgan started acting strangely—even sabotaging the other riders’ equipment at the pony club! Issie had found out what was going on and confronted Morgan and Araminta with the truth. Since then, things had been much better between them. Even so, Issie could tell that Morgan still struggled to live up to the high expectations of her competitive mother.

“Why don’t you guys come and sit with us?” Morgan said to Issie. “We’ve saved you seats.”

Issie looked across the clubroom and spotted Araminta in a seat in the front row next to Tom Avery. Two other riders, Dan Halliday and Ben MacIntosh, were sitting next to them.

Dan smiled and waved when he saw the girls. Issie grinned and waved back. It was hard to believe that there had been so much drama with Dan just a few months ago. He used to have a crush on Issie and there had been a stand-off between him and Aidan at the Horse of the Year Show as they fought for her attention. But that was all over now. Dan and Issie were back to being just the
way they were before—really good friends.

“Hey, Issie!” Dan called down the row to her as the four girls took their seats. “What’s this I hear about you having a new horse? What’s he like?”

“Don’t ask!” Issie groaned. Everyone had taken their seats now and the meeting was about to begin. Issie glanced anxiously over her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Kate asked.

“Natasha Tucker’s not here,” Issie said. She scanned the room again to be sure, but there was no sign of the sour-faced girl with the stiff blonde plaits. Issie couldn’t help but feel relieved.

“You want to know my theory about Stuck-up Tucker?” Stella said to Issie. “I think she has a love-hate relationship with you.”

“You’re wrong,” Issie sighed. “There’s definitely no love. She can’t stand me.”

Any hope that Issie had of ever being friends with Natasha had disappeared forever after the Horse of the Year Show. Bratty Natasha had been training on her horse Fabergé with her expensive private trainer Ginty McLintoch and she totally expected to win. No wonder then that she was furious when Issie and Comet beat her in the big competition that day.

It made matters even worse, when Natasha and Ginty McLintoch offered to buy Comet after the show, and Issie refused to sell him to them. Ever since then, it had officially been war between the two riders.

The meeting had been scheduled for 8 p.m. and at ten past, Mrs Tarrant stepped up to the podium. She tapped the microphone to make sure it was working and then began to read from the stack of papers in front of her.

“As your departing club president, I am going to take you through the minutes of our last meeting…”

“Ohmygod,” Stella hissed to Issie. “I’m bored already!”

Issie couldn’t help giggling, but she quickly pulled herself together again as Avery shot the girls a stern glance.

Stella was right though; it was hard not to fidget as Mrs Tarrant went on about club fees and equipment rosters. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she plonked her stack of papers back down on the podium in front of her. “That takes care of all our business from last season.”

“Crikey! About time!” Stella muttered. The girls tried hard to suppress their giggles again.

“As you know, we’ve already voted in the new
committee for the year and tonight I’ll be ‘handing over the reins’!” Mrs Tarrant grinned at her own joke, which she thought was very funny since this was a pony club, but no one else seemed to get it.

“Anyway, at this stage in the evening, I was hoping to hand you over to our new club president, Oliver Tucker…but I don’t think he’s arrived yet…”

At that exact moment, as if on cue, the front door of the clubroom swung open.

“Ahhh, Mr Tucker,” Mrs Tarrant said. “I had just about given up on you.”

“That’s our new club president.” Dan leant across to Issie. “Natasha Tucker’s dad.”

“Really?” Issie said, staring at the tall, blond man in the suit who now had everyone in the room turning around to look at him. “I’ve never, ever seen him here before.”

It wasn’t surprising that Issie had never seen Oliver Tucker before because, despite the fact that he had spent a fortune on Natasha’s ponies, until tonight he had never set foot on the grounds of the Chevalier Point Pony Club. He was a big-shot businessman, far too busy with corporate takeovers and property deals to make time for his daughter’s little hobbies.

Oliver Tucker wore a designer suit that stretched taut over his pot belly, well-padded from extravagant company lunches.
My friends call me Ollie
, he would often say by way of introduction. But this was untrue. No one called him “Ollie” because Oliver Tucker had no friends. He didn’t care—money was much more important and he had loads of that. This was just as well because he’d spent a fair chunk of it on horses to keep his daughter happy.

“I can’t believe he’s the new pony-club president,” whispered Issie.

“Mum says he won the ballot because no one else dared to stand against him,” Dan shrugged.

“Ohhh, scary!” Stella said. “So if that’s Natasha’s dad, then where is Natasha?”

Stella’s question was answered by a grunting noise on the stairs right behind Mr Tucker. “Hey, Dad! Urghh!…Can I get a little help here?”

Natasha Tucker appeared in the doorway behind her dad. She wore her trademark scowl and seemed to be struggling to carry something enormous in her arms.

“Hurry up, Dad!” Natasha squealed. “Take an end. I’m going to drop it!”

There was a definite flicker of impatience on Mr
Tucker’s face as he came to his daughter’s aid and took one end of the object, helping to ease it in through the door.

The mystery object, shrouded in a velvet curtain, was about a metre wide and almost as tall as Natasha. Whatever it was, clearly it was very heavy as it took both Natasha and Mr Tucker to carry it through the clubroom towards the podium.

“Careful, Natasha, careful!” Mr Tucker instructed as they manoeuvred their way between the rows of chairs to the front of the room. “Hang on to it! OK, now take a step to the left…no! My left, Natasha! Not yours! For Pete’s sake, can’t you do anything right?”

Natasha’s face was puce beneath her blonde plaits as she dropped her end of the object with a thud on to the floor. Mr Tucker tutted at her and lowered his end gently so that the mystery object stood in front of the audience, next to the podium.

“Good evening!” Mr Tucker said, greeting them all. “As Mrs Tarrant said, I’m your new club president. I’d just like to say that this is a great moment for the Chevalier Point Pony Club. It isn’t every day that a man like myself, with formidable business expertise, makes himself available for such a role…”