Fortune and the Golden Trophy (11 page)

Issie was exhausted when she arrived home after the dressage day. Mrs Brown decided that it was too late in the evening to cook dinner and bought them takeaway fish and chips as a treat. “Why don’t you have a bath and get an early night?” her mother suggested. “You got up at six so you must be tired, and you’ve got school in the morning.”

The mention of school made Issie panic. Upstairs in her bedroom two weeks’ worth of homework was sitting on her desk, still unfinished.

The last thing Issie felt like was hitting the books, but tonight was her last chance. Two of the assignments were due in tomorrow and she had to get them done. If her mum found out that Issie was slipping behind on her
homework, she’d be bound to blame her riding. And so Issie readily agreed to the suggestion of an early night, and sat down at her study desk to try and do a fortnight’s worth of work in one evening.

By 10 p.m. she was slumped over her maths book, unable to go on any longer. At times like these, she decided, there was only one thing for it. She needed chocolate. She had seen a bar of fruit and nut in the fridge earlier—that would give her some brain energy for sure.

Issie crept downstairs. Her mum had already gone to bed and the downstairs lights were out. She didn’t bother to turn them on as she padded in her socks across the kitchen.

The moon was three-quarters full outside and its light flooded in through the French doors. Issie tiptoed her way across the floor to the fridge, trying to tread softly so she wouldn’t wake her mum. She swung open the door and the fridge light illuminated her face as she peered inside. Where had her mum hidden that chocolate? Finally, Issie found it underneath the lettuce—her mum obviously thought the vegetable compartment was the one place her daughter would never look for food!

Issie was unwrapping the foil from the chocolate bar
when she suddenly had the sensation that she was being watched. Spinning around to the French doors, she stared out and saw a face at the window. The sight nearly made her leap out of her skin.

“Ohmygod!”

Two eyes were looking at her through the glass. But they weren’t human eyes. They were coal black, staring out from a snowy white face.

“Mystic!” Issie hissed. “You scared me half to death!”

She ran over to the French doors, quickly worked the lock open and stepped outside on to the patio. Mystic, who was waiting for her, nickered softly.

“Shush!” Issie whispered. “Mum might still be awake.”

She looked at the grey pony. What was he doing here? Did he have to be here tonight of all nights? She was way behind on her homework and she really needed to get it done. Now it looked like that was never going to happen. Whatever the reason was for Mystic’s appearance, it was obviously more important than homework.

“Stay here,” she told him. “I’m going to get my boots on. I’ll be quick.”

Issie sprinted lightly back upstairs to her room, grabbed her jodhpur boots and her polar fleece, then
hurried straight back downstairs again. Outside on the back lawn she yanked on the fleece and boots as fast as she could and then she followed Mystic, who was already heading through the garden towards the gate that led out to the road.

It was a bitterly cold night and Issie was glad she had bothered to grab some warm clothes. As she put out her hand to touch Mystic’s soft dapple-grey coat she could sense the warmth of her pony, and yet she still felt a chill up her spine at the same time. Mystic’s appearance always meant that something dark and dangerous was afoot. Why was the grey pony here this time?

There was no time to worry about that now. Mystic was anxious to go and as soon as Issie opened the gate he dashed through to the other side. Issie climbed the rungs and then took a graceful, catlike leap, landing neatly on his back.

Mystic headed down the back streets behind Issie’s house, taking the same route they had followed just a few weeks ago when they had ridden to the pony club and found the fence cut open and Fortune on the golf course.

As the streetlights lit the way above them Issie stared up at the dark, cloudy sky and wondered what lay ahead. Blaze, Comet and Fortune were all at the pony-club
paddocks—so was Kate’s horse Toby. Was one of them in danger?

She became even more nervous when Mystic reached the main road and turned to the left once more. There was no doubt in Issie’s mind now that the grey gelding was taking her to the pony club. She was sure it had something to do with the horses and she only hoped they would be in time to save them.

As Mystic began to gallop along the verge beside the main road Issie gripped with her knees and clung on to his long, ropey mane, as the grey pony sped on. The main road to the club grounds wasn’t far to ride at a gallop, but tonight it seemed to take an eternity. Issie was trying to keep calm, trying not to think of the worst as Mystic turned the corner from the main road and took the gravel driveway that led to the pony-club entrance.

Then something strange happened. Issie had been expecting the pony to pull up to a halt at the gates, but instead, Mystic kept galloping. He ran on past them, still at a gallop, his strides never slowing.

“Mystic!” Issie shouted, her voice catching in the wind. “Stop! You’re going the wrong way.”

She pulled at his mane, trying to get him to change course, but it was no good. Mystic was ignoring her
protests and galloping on. They were further down the driveway now, far away from the streetlights of the main road. With no lamp posts, all she had was moonlight to help her see. Issie tried to peer into the inky blackness ahead, but the wind was against her face now and it was cold enough to make her eyes water. She lifted one hand to wipe her eyes, still gripping Mystic’s mane tightly with her other hand.

All around her, on both sides of the road, the black shapes of trees towered over her, blocking out the moonlight so that she could barely see more than a horse length or two ahead. Issie had no idea where they were going. It wasn’t until Mystic rounded a corner that she could finally see a light glowing softly about a hundred metres ahead of them.

The driveway led to the golf club and Issie realised that the light must be coming from the clubhouse. As she got closer she could see it more clearly. The lights were on in a room on the lower floor, their yellow glow illuminating the grand bay windows.

In fact, the whole building was grand, built in the ostentatious style of an old Georgian manor house. It was constructed from bright red brick, with cream trim around the doors and windows. A large colonnade
with marble pillars and matching steps led up to the front of the building from the driveway. It must have been here that the horse manure was dumped earlier that day—the dung having since been cleared up by Stella and Kate.

The marble steps led to an enormous front door. Golf-club members entered through this front door and then either proceeded up a vast marble staircase to the first floor or continued on the ground-floor level. On the corner of the ground floor, overlooking both the lawn and the gravel driveway, was a meeting room. It was in this room that the lights now blazed and, right outside, two cars were parked in the parking bays by the turning circle at the end of the driveway. Issie saw the cars and realised that the clubhouse lights hadn’t been left on by mistake. It was almost midnight and yet there were definitely people still here.

Issie spoke softly to Mystic, using her voice to slow the grey gelding down to a trot, veering off the gravel driveway and on to the lawn that bordered the end of the driveway and flowed down into the golf course beyond. Mystic’s hoofbeats, which had been making a clean chime against the hard gravel, were now muffled and quiet as they struck against the soft surface of the
grass. Whoever was inside the clubhouse wouldn’t hear them coming.

But why would anyone be here on a Sunday night at this hour? The bar and the restaurant were both closed, and no one would be playing a round of golf in the middle of the night.

On the grass, just a few metres away from the bay windows, Issie slid off the grey pony’s back and landed lightly on the ground. She dropped low and stayed crouched down, creeping forward like an army commando until she was beneath the windows of the meeting room and hidden from view. She pressed her back up against the cool, red bricks of the clubhouse wall, as still as a statue, listening to her own breathing coming fast and shallow, her heart racing.

Issie was dying to know who was inside, but she had to be careful and make sure she couldn’t be seen. She could hear voices—male voices. Very slowly, she raised her head and peered in through the window.

Two men were sitting at the table. One of them was Gordon Cheeseman and sitting opposite him, with his back to the window, was another man. Issie couldn’t see who he was at first, but then a moment later, he turned around and Issie recognised the sharp features of Oliver
Tucker. She was still staring when suddenly, Oliver Tucker looked towards the windows straight at her! Issie panicked and ducked down, hoping that she hadn’t been seen. She held her breath as she heard Oliver Tucker stand up from his chair…but it was OK. He hadn’t seen her. He was only standing up so that he could unroll a large tube of paper on to the table.

“These are the plans,” he said to Gordon Cheeseman.

The golf-club manager leant over the table and examined the blueprints. He made admiring noises. “It looks superb, Oliver,” he said. “Another first-class property development. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“I’m glad you think so, Gordon,” said Oliver Tucker, “because you’re the first one to see it. I knew you’d be thrilled. I’m going to build a luxury country-club complex right next to your golf course. I knew immediately that you would see how this could benefit us both because you’re a man of great vision, much like myself.”

Gordon Cheeseman looked pleased and extremely flattered—exactly as Oliver Tucker had intended.

“The thing is, Gordon,” he continued, “a golf course like yours needs the right sort of neighbours. When we
get rid of the pony club and I build my luxury country-club apartments on the same spot there’ll be no more riff-raff bothering you. You’ll have a whole host of wealthy golfers living next door instead. Your business will boom!”

“That does sound wonderful,” agreed Gordon Cheeseman.

“Indeed.” Oliver Tucker was now ready to go in for the kill. “I think we’re in agreement. All I need is your signature on a few forms that I have to lodge with the council. Just a bit of paperwork to say you approve of my application as your new neighbour. Then, once this is done, I’ll meet with my financial backers, get them to sign the paperwork and it’s official.”

Gordon Cheeseman smiled. “I must say this is a stroke of good fortune for the golf club,” he said, leaning over the blueprints once more. “Just when I’ve come to the end of my tether with that dreadful pony club, you turn up with a plan for a development of upmarket apartments right on the land where the pony club sits! It’s brilliant, Oliver, and jolly good timing as far as I’m concerned. I’ll be happy to see the back of those kids and their grubby ponies.”

“Well.” Oliver Tucker smoothed back his blond hair,
“you’ll have no problems there. After all, I’m the club president. I’ve already arranged for the club to give up their lease and move to the River Paddock. And with horses escaping on to the golf course and those rider-vandals dumping muck on your steps, there’s no way the council will block the move.”

Gordon Cheeseman shook his head. “I wish I’d caught those kids in the act, dumping horse poo at my club! I’m sure they were responsible—little hooligans.”

“Of course they were,” Oliver Tucker said, smooth as silk. “Anyway, as I was saying, all I need is your signature here, here and here.”

He handed over a piece of paper which Gordon Cheeseman duly signed and initialled.

“Congratulations, Gordon.” Oliver Tucker shook his hand. “You’re about to get rid of that pony club and get yourself some lovely, rich new neighbours.”

“Excellent!” Gordon Cheeseman said. “Shall we have a wee dram of whisky to celebrate?” He strode over towards the drinks cabinet, which was positioned by the window and Issie had to duck down fast once more. As she crouched low beneath the window frame she could see his shadow standing above her and hear the sound of glasses clinking and rattling.

“Would you like ice with yours, Ollie? I’ve got some here somewhere…” he began to say. Then he stopped.

“What the blazes was that?”

Mystic, who had been standing quietly in the shadows on the lawn, waiting for Issie, had suddenly got impatient and had given a loud nicker.

“Did you hear it?” Gordon Cheeseman put down the whisky bottle and stared out the window.

“Hear what?” Oliver Tucker came over to join him. Crouched down outside the window, Issie could feel the presence of the two men above her. Her heart was pounding like mad.

There was silence as they stared out into the darkness. Gordon Cheeseman put down the whisky bottle. “I think I’d better take a look outside,” he said. “If those pony-club vandals are back then they’ll soon discover that Gordon Cheeseman is not a man you want to mess with!”

Beneath the window, Issie froze in horror like a deer caught in the headlights. What should she do? Gordon Cheeseman was bound to see her—and then what?

Blind panic took over as she looked around. Mystic was on the lawn about twenty metres away from her, pacing restlessly. Should she make a dash for him right
now? It was risky—what if she wasn’t quick enough and the two men saw her? But if she stayed where she was then Gordon Cheeseman would spot her for sure and she would definitely be caught.

For a split second, Issie was riveted to the spot, terrified and gripped by indecision. Then Mystic nickered again, much louder this time, as if he was trying to make her mind up for her.
Run to me!
Mystic seemed to be saying.
It’s your only chance! Come now!

Issie suddenly realised that Mystic was right. She had no choice. As footsteps echoed up the hall she knew she was out of time. With her heart racing and her blood pounding she leapt to her feet and ran.