On the way to Chesterfield Downs, Millie told Alice-Miranda about her chat with Billy.

‘There’s just something about him. I really don’t know what it is,’ she finished, frowning.

Alice-Miranda nodded. ‘I know a lot about strange feelings, Millie. Maybe you’ve caught it from me. I’ve found that there’s usually an explanation for these things. Perhaps Mr Boots just needs someone to give him a chance.’

Millie nodded but she wasn’t convinced.

‘Come on.’ Alice-Miranda clicked her tongue and Bonaparte began to canter. ‘Or Mr Walt will think we’re not coming.’

Miles and miles of hedgerows shielded much of Chesterfield Downs from view. The lane was bordered on the low side by a grove of alders, ash and beech trees, their leaves creating a pretty palette of green. Dappled sunlight lit the girls’ way until they came to a pair of ancient limestone gateposts.

On the left a brass nameplate announced the property and on the right a small coat of arms and the letters HRH indicated that the farm was indeed owned by Her Royal Highness, Aunty Gee. An imposing set of iron gates stood open.

The brick-edged driveway seemed to go on forever, with emerald paddocks dotted with oak trees on either side and several horses grazing on the lush meadow grass.

As the girls rounded a bend in the road, a magnificent Georgian house came into view. It was three storeys through the centre with identical octagonal double-storey wings on either end. In the front of the property was a perfectly formed lake and a magnificent formal rose garden.

‘Wow!’ Millie exclaimed. ‘What a beautiful house.’

‘And garden. It’s lovely,’ Alice-Miranda agreed. ‘I can’t imagine why Aunty Gee doesn’t come down here more often.’

‘She probably has about ten houses just like this one,’ Millie scoffed.

‘I suppose so,’ said Alice-Miranda. ‘It does seem a little more than anyone needs. I wonder if she’s ever thought to allow people who are down on their luck to stay here while they get back on their feet?’

‘Are you thinking of Billy Boots?’ Millie asked with a grin. ‘Really? Aunty Gee is good fun but I can’t imagine this place full of hobos.’

The girls spent another couple of minutes studying the house, and spotted a sign marked ‘Stables’ pointing towards the rear. They rode on and at the crest of the hill both girls gasped. The land flattened out and to the right an enormous stable complex dominated the landscape. It had a small clock tower in the centre and a row of dormer windows in the roof. A vast pair of timber doors stood open at the end. There was a small holding yard beside the building, and beyond yet another hedge was a full-sized racetrack. A whitewashed cottage sat amid a pretty garden just below the stables.

Millie’s eyes were on stalks as she took it all in. ‘What an amazing place.’

Alice-Miranda dismounted and pulled the reins over Bony’s head. Millie did the same and then the two girls walked towards a hitching rail beside the stables and tied the ponies up side by side.

‘Now, you two behave yourselves,’ Alice-Miranda instructed.

There didn’t seem to be anyone around. The girls walked towards the stables and peered inside.

Through the double row of stalls, at least a dozen down either side, the girls could just make out a group of people huddled at the other end of the building.

‘Hello,’ Alice-Miranda called out. ‘May we come in?’ She squinted as her eyes adjusted to the low light.

The group turned and looked at her.

‘Hello Miss Alice-Miranda, Miss Millie,’ Wally Whitstable called, beckoning them to enter.

The girls could hear a low murmuring as Wally explained to the others that these were the visitors he was expecting from Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale.

As she and Millie approached the group, Alice-Miranda noticed that they were all staring at something in the end stall.

‘Good afternoon, ladies. I’d like to introduce you to Dick Wigglesworth, my boss,’ said Wally.

A stocky man with thick grey caterpillar eyebrows turned and nodded at the girls. Alice-Miranda held out her hand, which the older fellow shook gently.

‘It’s lovely to meet you, Mr Wigglesworth. My name is Alice-Miranda Highton-Smith-KenningtonJones,’ she said with a smile.

Millie offered her hand too. ‘And I’m Millie,’ she said.

‘Good afternoon, girls, and welcome to Chesterfield Downs,’ Dick Wigglesworth replied.

Wally introduced the rest of the group. There were four lads in total, all of whom Alice-Miranda insisted on greeting in the usual way.

‘Well, you’d better get back to work, boys,’ Dick Wigglesworth instructed. ‘I don’t think there’s anything else for it.’

‘Is that Rockstar in there?’ Alice-Miranda asked, pointing at the stall behind the group.

‘It certainly is. But at the moment he’s anything but a rock star,’ Dick replied.

The tiny child could barely see over the stable door. She looked around and saw a milk crate, which she collected and placed in front of it and then jumped up to get a better look.

‘What’s the matter with him?’ Alice-Miranda asked as she hung over the door.

‘Depressed, we think,’ Dick replied. ‘Ever since Evelyn went off to hospital.’

Millie jumped up beside Alice-Miranda. ‘What about when he’s outside?’ she asked.

‘That’s part of the problem,’ Dick informed her. ‘No one’s been able to get him outside.’

Alice-Miranda whispered to the stallion, ‘Hello boy. Aren’t you a handsome lad?’

The black beast ignored her. With his head in the corner and his rump turned out towards the onlookers, he responded by lifting his tail to blow some foul-smelling wind in their general direction.

‘Pooh!’ said Millie. ‘That’s disgusting.’

Alice-Miranda waved her hand in front of her nose. She turned to Dick and Wally. ‘He doesn’t look scary.’

‘You don’t want to open that door, Miss,’ Wally said with a shudder. ‘I made that mistake this morning and he almost took my head off. Makes your Bonaparte look like a kitten.’

‘Does that mean he’s not going to run in the Queen’s Cup?’ Millie asked.

Dick shook his head. ‘He hasn’t done track work for days. Unless there’s a miracle soon, we’re going to have to scratch him. I suppose there’s always next year.’

Outside there was an explosion of whinnying. Rockstar’s ears went back and he shifted his weight.

‘Oh dear, it sounds like Chops and Bony are having a disagreement,’ said Alice-Miranda. She jumped off the crate.

The whinnying escalated. Rockstar replied, softly at first but soon he was making as much noise as Bonaparte. The black stallion wheeled around and charged towards the stall door. Millie leapt down just as he threw his head over.

‘I’d better see what’s wrong with Bony,’ said Alice-Miranda, and began to walk quickly towards the stable’s entrance. She didn’t run, as she knew that it might upset the other horses inside.

Suddenly the clip-clop of hooves on cobbles echoed through the building and Bonaparte appeared, running towards her.

His reins were dragging on the ground. Alice-Miranda tried in vain to grab them as he sped past her but she missed and he almost tripped himself up.

‘How did you escape? Bonaparte Napoleon Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones, you are the naughtiest pony I have ever known,’ the girl called as she scurried after him.

The other horses in the stables all perked up, threw their heads over the stall doors and watched the pony’s escapades.

By now Rockstar was pawing at the ground and whinnying at the top of his lungs. Bonaparte continued to reply.

Wally and Millie also grabbed at Bonaparte but he dodged both of them and ran straight for Rockstar’s stall. He skidded to a halt and thrust his head up towards the door.

What happened next was completely unexpected.

Rockstar stopped his whinnying and so did Bony. The black stallion sniffed his small visitor. Bonaparte sniffed him back. Then Rockstar started rubbing his chin against Bony’s nose.

‘What’s this then?’ Dick Wigglesworth asked.

Alice-Miranda had rejoined the group and they all watched as Bonaparte and Rockstar engaged in some kind of equine conversation. There were neighs and whinnies and snorts and grunts.

‘That’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen,’ Dick whispered. ‘He’s never been one to get on with the other horses but he’s completely taken by that fella of yours.’

Wally reached around and grabbed Bony’s reins. ‘Right, I think we’d better get you back outside and this time I’ll put you in the holding yard.’

As Wally attempted to wheel Bonaparte around, the solid pony stood his ground and Rockstar reached out and nipped at the young lad’s hair.

‘Oi! You little monster,’ he snapped, glaring at Bony.

‘It wasn’t him,’ Millie said. ‘It was him.’ She pointed at Rockstar, who was grinding his teeth.

Wally made a second attempt at moving Bonaparte but the pony locked his knees and refused to budge. Alice-Miranda reached out and gave him a pat on the neck.

‘Come along, Bonaparte, you can’t stay here. Rockstar needs to rest,’ she whispered in his ear before taking the reins from Wally.

In his stall, the champion began to paw at the ground.

‘Mr Wigglesworth, do you think we could try something?’ Wally asked.

‘What are you thinking, lad?’

‘I wondered if we might take them outside together,’ Wally said.

‘Oh no,’ Dick replied. ‘That doesn’t sound like a good idea at all.’

‘I reckon Miss Pepper would be well pleased if we could at least get him out of the stables. And she’d be over the moon if we could get him to run,’ a lanky lad called Freddy piped up.

‘So now you’re an expert, are you, Freddy?’ Dick challenged.

In his stall, Rockstar reared up. He looked as though he meant to break through the door.

‘No, sir, but I think there’s a good chance he could injure himself in there,’ Freddy replied.

Dick Wigglesworth eyed the stallion. ‘Steady on there, son,’ he cooed.

‘He’s going to hurt himself, Mr Wigglesworth,’ said Wally. His face was pale; he hated the thought of something happening to the horse.

‘All right. Since you fellas know everything. Freddy, get his gear, will you?’ Dick Wigglesworth instructed.

The boy looked at him and was motionless for a few seconds.

‘Today, son, if it’s not too much of a bother,’ Dick huffed.

Freddy rushed off towards the tack room.

‘But who’s going to ride him?’ Alice-Miranda asked, looking around the stables.

Freddy appeared, holding a bridle and tiny saddle, which he handed to Dick.

‘Okay then, Wally, show us what you’re made of.’ The old man passed the bridle to Wally, who looked as if he’d swallowed a whale.

‘I . . . I’m not going in there,’ Wally quavered. ‘You know him better than anyone.’

‘You told me you wanted to work with racehorses. So here’s your chance,’ said Dick.

‘Would you like me to bring Bonaparte in there with you while you get Rockstar ready?’ Alice-Miranda asked Wally.

‘What? And have two maniacs in together?’ Wally gulped.

Dick Wigglesworth winked at her. ‘Now you’re thinking, young lady.’

‘You shouldn’t go in there, Miss Alice-Miranda,’ Wally protested. ‘It’s not safe.’

‘But you’re going in there,’ Alice-Miranda reasoned.

Wally’s frown deepened. ‘Exactly.’

Dick Wigglesworth opened the stall door and Alice-Miranda led Bonaparte into the box. The two horses stood nose to nose sniffing each other, before Rockstar began again to rub his face on Bonaparte’s neck. It was the most extraordinary sight.

Wally edged his way inside and was surprised at how quickly and easily he got the bridle and saddle on Rockstar.

‘Now, Alice-Miranda, I need you to lead Bonaparte back outside. Don’t move too far away from this fellow,’ Dick instructed.

Alice-Miranda did as she was asked and the two horses, Rockstar the seventeen-hand giant and Bonaparte the fourteen-hand pony, stood side by side – an odd couple indeed.

‘You know they could almost be twins,’ said Millie, laughing as she looked at the black pair. ‘Except that Rockstar is gorgeous and Bonaparte is short and fat.’

‘Get a helmet for Wally,’ Dick barked at Freddy.

Wally shook his head. ‘Oh, no! I’m not riding him, sir.’

‘Well, then, we’ll just have to put him away again,’ Dick said. ‘I can’t do it. I’ve got a bad back and Freddy can’t stay upright on a fence rail.’

The lad in question returned with a helmet, which he passed to Wally.

By now Rockstar was behaving like a perfect gentleman. Bony was too. Wally hesitated, then jammed the helmet on his head. Dick gave Wally a leg-up and he sat atop the giant beast.

‘You too, miss,’ said Dick, indicating that Alice-Miranda should mount Bony. ‘I think you should go down to the track together and see what happens. But I don’t imagine it will be much.’

Alice-Miranda urged Bonaparte forward. Wally did the same to Rockstar. Side by side the unlikely duo walked out of the stables and towards the track. There were nickers and neighs and lots of chatting between the two beasts. Millie, Dick and Freddy followed on foot.

‘That’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen,’ Freddy said. ‘Only person who can handle him is Miss Pepper and the only jockey who can stay on him is Diego Dominguez.’

‘Wally seems to be managing okay,’ Millie commented as they watched Bony and Rockstar jogging towards the track.

‘This way.’ Dick Wigglesworth led Millie and Freddy through a gap in the hedge and they emerged on the side of the course.

Wally looked over at Alice-Miranda. ‘I really don’t know what’s going to happen when we get on the track. If he goes off, we could both be in trouble.’

‘Perhaps I should just try to keep up for a little while,’ she suggested. ‘Bony’s no champion but we could give it our best, just to get Rockstar off and running.’

They reached the entrance to the racetrack and walked through.

‘All right, are you ready?’ Wally asked, taking a deep breath. He lowered his goggles and Alice-Miranda adjusted her helmet. ‘Off you go first and I’ll see if I can hold him.’ Wally tightened his grip on the reins. He felt as if he’d swallowed a bucket of sand. The young lad licked his lips and told the butterflies in his stomach to keep still.

Alice-Miranda dug her heels into Bonaparte’s flank and he took off.

‘Come on boy, run fast and then you can have a treat,’ she urged. At the mention of a treat Bony seemed to pick up the pace and his fast canter became a gallop. Behind them Walt Whitstable was doing his best to hold Rockstar, who was whinnying and dancing all over the place.

‘All right, it’s now or never.’ Wally gave the champion his head and he bolted towards Bonaparte. He was gaining on the pony and it didn’t take long before he rounded the turn and raced for home, leaving Alice-Miranda in his mud-spattered wake.

‘Go, Rockstar,’ Millie shouted. ‘Go, boy!’

‘Whoo hoo!’ Freddy pumped his fist into the air and clicked off his stopwatch. ‘It’s a good time too,’ he said, staring at the numbers in front of him.

Dick Wigglesworth shook his head. ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘There’ll be no stopping him in the Queen’s Cup now,’ said Freddy with a smile.

Dick’s shoulders slumped and he sighed loudly.

‘Are you all right, Mr Wigglesworth?’ Millie asked.

‘Yes lass, fine, just fine,’ he said slowly.

Rockstar snorted and sidestepped, then spun around as if looking for something. Alice-Miranda charged around the turn and when Bonaparte crossed the finish line, Rockstar greeted him with an ear-splitting whinny.

‘That was amazing,’ said Millie. She was standing on the lower fence rail with her arms slung over the top. Beside her, Freddy and Mr Wigglesworth were shaking their heads in disbelief.

‘Well done, Mr Walt. That was incredible,’ Alice-Miranda said to the young lad.

He was grinning broadly. ‘I can’t believe it. I stayed on him!’ He reached down and patted Rockstar’s neck.

Alice-Miranda patted her little fellow’s neck too. ‘Well done, Bonaparte. Good boy.’