Lucy’s head reeled. Up until the horses went thundering past, she could still half-believe that April was a figment of her imagination or a dream. But as she stood looking at the horses cantering down the hill and saw the wide river curving through the valley, she began to doubt herself. The house below them looked suspiciously familiar, but there were no stables at Avendale, and these people didn’t belong here at all.
How could they be at Broken River? In the real Broken River it was night and inside Avendale her great aunt was asleep and Wally the Wombat was snuffling around the edge of the verandah.
‘Does that house have a name?’ asked Lucy, pointing down the hill.
‘Yes, that’s my place. That’s Avendale.’
Lucy nodded. If this was Avendale, it wasn’t the one that she knew. This was another Avendale altogether. Like the wonky reflection in the wardrobe, everything in this mirror world was slightly out of place and yet strangely familiar. She knew she should be worried but something about being with April made her feel perfectly at ease.
Inside the stable was warm and cosy. The air was full of dust motes and the scent of horses and hay. Sunlight cut through cracks in the timber slabs. April stood with her hands on her hips and frowned at the two horses left in the corner stall.
‘They’ve taken Smoke and Blue. You’ll have to ride old Banjo, unless you’re feeling brave.’
‘I’ve never ridden a horse before,’ said Lucy.
‘Then it had better be Banjo. I’ll ride Midnight, though if I break my neck, you can tell my mum and dad that it was Jimmy Tiger’s fault for taking out Blue without asking.’
April led the two horses out into the sunshine and Lucy followed. Midnight shied away from Lucy when she passed him. Lucy felt her heart beat faster. The horse was twice her height, inky black with a small white blaze between his eyes. Midnight threw his head back and whinnied like a wild thing, and Lucy stepped away. She’d imagined that they were going to ride ponies, plump and sleek little horses like the ones in her favourite picture books.
‘I’m not sure I’m ready to go riding today,’ she said.
‘Of course you are,’ replied April. She rhythmically stroked Midnight’s neck until the horse calmed down. Midnight’s ears twitched as April murmured to him in a soothing voice. Then she turned back to Lucy.
‘You’re not getting on Midnight, don’t worry about that. Banjo’s the sweetest old horse in the world. Come and meet him.’
April led Banjo over to Lucy. Lucy looked up into the soft dark eyes of a dapple grey horse. ‘Banjo doesn’t go very fast,’ said April, ‘but she never complains or gives any trouble. Do you want me to give you a leg up?’
‘Don’t I need a saddle? And stirrups and a riding helmet and boots?’ asked Lucy.
‘We don’t bother with all that fandangle,’ said April.
Lucy tried not to meet her eye as she scuffed her toe in the dirt.
April let out a sigh. ‘I think there’s a bit of gear I could find for you,’ she said.
Banjo lowered her head and her wispy grey mane fell forward. She didn’t whinny or shy away when Lucy took a step closer. The old mare was very still, watching Lucy with a friendly expression. There was something peaceful about the way the horse stood, waiting for Lucy to pay her attention. Gingerly, Lucy stretched out her hand and stroked Banjo’s side.
A minute later, April came out of the stable with her arms full of tack. She flung a blanket over Banjo’s back and then a saddle, which she deftly fastened in place. ‘C’mon then,’ she said to Lucy, and before Lucy could hesitate again, April had made a cup with her hands to boost Lucy into the saddle.
Lucy flung her leg over Banjo and felt a shiver of excitement. Banjo didn’t move a muscle.
‘You take up the reins and I’ll adjust the stirrups for you,’ said April.
Banjo waited patiently while April clambered onto Midnight’s back. The black horse pranced restlessly as April gathered up the reins. She looked so small, her bare feet dangling with no stirrups to rest upon.
April showed Lucy how to hold the reins and then April and Midnight set off down the path with Lucy and Banjo following behind. Banjo plodded steadily along the track through the fields while Midnight strained against the bit. When they reached the road, April called out over her shoulder. ‘You wait here. I’ve got to give Midnight a gallop to settle him.’ A moment later, April and Midnight were bolting around the field. Lucy sat peacefully on Banjo’s broad back, surveying the valley. Jimmy Tiger and April’s brother were nowhere in sight. The only thing that moved in the hazy morning sunlight were the dandelions in the field and April on Midnight, her long plaits flying as she cantered back to the gate where Lucy and Banjo waited.
April reined in Midnight, her eyes sparkling. She wiped away little beads of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. Midnight didn’t seem any less restless and Lucy was glad she was on the quieter horse. She patted Banjo’s neck affectionately as they rode up a winding bush track and into the scrub.
April and Midnight moved so quickly that Lucy twice lost sight of them. But Banjo knew the way and when they turned a bend, Lucy could see the fair-haired girl and the black horse waiting for them at the next turn.
Up and up they rode through the wilderness. The bracken and ferns grew thicker in the forest about them and the track narrowed so that spindly leaves brushed against Lucy’s face. Lucy lost sight of April again. Then she turned a bend in the track and found it opened into a clearing high up on the hill. A giant wall of mossy granite rose above the clearing, casting a long shadow. April had tethered Midnight to a branch of a gum tree and stood in the middle of the clearing beside a tiny hut made of bark and scraps of corrugated tin.
‘Welcome to my empire,’ she said, reaching a hand out to Lucy to help her down from the saddle.