Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage

by Cathy Woodman

  ‘How old is she? She did tell me, but I’ve forgotten.’

  ‘She’s eight. I can’t believe it.’ He pauses. ‘It doesn’t feel like eight years since Carla passed away.’

  ‘I’m very sorry.’

  ‘I met her down here by the river,’ he says, and, with a jolt of unreasonable disappointment, I wonder if he deliberately chose to be here today to remember her. ‘It was during the summer holidays when she was sixteen. I was a year older, and a bit of a rebel. In fact, I’d just been expelled from school.’

  ‘You? What did you do?’

  ‘I was a boarder at a top independent school – I only agreed to go because they had equestrian facilities. Anyway, much to my dad’s fury, I was kicked out for drinking while on a school trip. I felt guilty for letting him down, but I hated it there and I didn’t want to do A-levels and go to university. I came home and kicked about for a while. On the day I met Carla, I’d just “borrowed” a shopping trolley from the Co-op. Don’t ask me why. I can’t remember. It was some kind of prank. Don’t tell Maisie any of this, will you?’ he adds lightly.

  ‘I won’t,’ I promise. ‘What was Carla like?’

  ‘She was the most amazing human being, generous, loving … I’ll never forget her smile, the freckles across the bridge of her nose …’ His voice fades for a second time. I notice how he swallows hard. ‘I didn’t know what to suggest to make sure I saw her again, so I offered to teach her to ride. We spent hours at home in the arena, whatever the weather. She was a natural.’

  Is that why he doesn’t appear to be involved with anyone else, I wonder? Has he really not had a serious relationship in eight years?

  ‘Her parents disapproved. They weren’t happy about her seeing one of the irresponsible Salterton brothers, or taking up what they felt was a dangerous sport.’

  ‘Did they try to stop you seeing each other?’ I ask, thinking of how my parents tried to guide me into seeing young men they approved of. Once Sarah overheard my dad at some social gathering, telling this guy I’d fancied for months that I was engaged. When I tackled him about it, he denied all knowledge, but I could tell he was lying. But by then, it was too late, and my potential paramour was going out with my cousin.

  ‘They did at first, but when they realised I was serious about her, they backed off. She was all set to start a course in environmental science when she found out she was pregnant. It was then that the proverbial hit the fan. I couldn’t see what the problem was. Carla and I talked it through and decided that she could delay going to university for a year. After that, I’d look after the baby during the week, and she’d come home at weekends.’ He breaks off. ‘It sounds completely naive now. I didn’t realise that caring for a baby is all-consuming; that you can’t just put it aside for a couple of hours like you can with a horse or dog.’

  I keep silent, listening to him talk against the sound of the horses’ hooves and the squeak of leather tack, while the dogs lope along behind.

  ‘I don’t really understand what happened after that. Things went wrong between us. Her parents accused me of being controlling. They said I didn’t want her to go away to study and that’s why I’d made her pregnant, which was ridiculous. It was an accident. Carla didn’t find out she was having a baby until she was six months gone.

  ‘At about thirty-six weeks, she started feeling unwell. She was admitted to hospital with pre-eclampsia and made to rest. Her parents took over. I visited her, of course, but I was busy working, trying to get the stunt team going so I would have money to support us. We weren’t living together, but my parents offered me Cherry Tree Cottage for when she came out of hospital – I did a room up as a surprise for her. We weren’t a couple at the time. There’d been a few rows, but I always thought we’d make a go of it as a family.’

  But she never came out, I think. I can feel the sorrow in his voice and the pain in the slump of his shoulders.

  ‘I was away with the team when her condition went downhill. She had her labour induced, but her parents didn’t let me know. Carla called me after they’d started her off, but by then she could hardly speak. I knew something was badly wrong, that she needed me. I raced back, leaving the horses with Dillon, but by the time I got there, it was too late. She’d had a fit and never regained consciousness, although I like to think she knew I was at her side when it was all over.’

  ‘Oh, Robbie,’ I sigh.

  He looks across at me, straight in the eye, his expression dark with hurt.

  ‘They wouldn’t let me see our baby.’

  ‘Who wouldn’t?’

  ‘Her parents. They blamed me, and in a way they were right to.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault.’ I wonder how many other people have said that. ‘I’m sorry, what do I know?’

  ‘I kicked off, of course. Then I was escorted away from the hospital by security. I went back in and was arrested and thrown into a cell for the night to calm down. Calm down? I’ve never been so angry and upset. My dad came down with a solicitor friend to bail me out on condition that he took me straight home.’

  I can’t imagine Robbie losing his temper, but nor can I imagine how anyone would feel at being denied contact with their newborn daughter at the same time as losing her mother, the woman he was in love with. I have no doubt that whether or not they were together at the time, he’d always loved her.

  ‘The next day I found out that Carla’s parents were claiming that they had no clue who the baby’s father was – which is terrible, considering how that made their daughter look.’

  I agree. It’s outrageous. My parents haven’t always been scrupulous with the truth, but I can’t imagine them doing something that low.

  ‘At first, I was absolutely furious and devastated, because I’d lost both Carla and my daughter – Mum sat me down and made me try to see it from their point of view. They’d lost their only daughter and Maisie was part of her. I could understand why they were desperate to hold on and bring her up themselves. But Maisie was mine and I wasn’t going to let her grow up thinking that I’d abandoned her like my birth mother did me. When Carla was lying unconscious in Intensive Care, I promised her …’ His voice breaks. ‘… That I would care for our baby and love her for both of us.’

  I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. It’s the pollen.

  ‘I had to go to court to obtain parental responsibility and get custody. They even did a DNA test to check, although I had no doubt.’

  ‘That must have been agony for everyone.’

  ‘It was. I didn’t want to fight, but I wasn’t going to lose her. It took a long time, but the judge made it right. The day I held Maisie in my arms was the day I finally grew up.’

  It takes me a moment to focus on where we’re going.

  ‘What happened with Carla’s parents?’

  ‘I made my peace with them. They take Maisie on holiday and have her some weekends, and they spend half the day with her on her birthday. We don’t celebrate today, but we’ll have a party tomorrow.’ Robbie rides Nelson through a gap in the trees and into a field, planted with lush green wheat. I follow, keeping Rafa behind Nelson on the grassy track alongside the crop.

  ‘That’s enough about me,’ Robbie says abruptly. ‘How about you? What’s your story?’

  ‘There isn’t much to tell really.’

  ‘Have you any brothers and sisters, infamous relatives or significant others?’

  ‘I’m an only child. My dad’s so much older than my mum that everyone assumes he’s my grandfather. I’m single and intending to stay that way.’

  ‘Do I detect a trace of bitterness?’ he says. ‘I’m being ironic, by the way. Who was he?’

  ‘One of the apprentices I met when I was with Tony, my ATF.’

  ‘ATF?’

  ‘Apprentice Training Farrier. My ex, Ryan, was a couple of years ahead of me.’

  ‘I bet you fell for his massive guns,’ Robbie says brightly. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t make light of it. You were serious?’
>
  ‘Not at first. We helped each other out a few times. I covered for him when he overslept. He put out the flames when I set my hair on fire in the forge. That’s one of the reasons I keep it short.’

  ‘You should retrain as a stunt rider – it’s far safer.’ Robbie opens the gate into the field. I ride through and he closes it behind us. ‘What happened?’

  ‘My hair grew back after a while.’

  He chuckles. ‘I meant what happened to you and this Ryan bloke?’

  I smile at my ditziness.

  ‘We moved into a house and made plans for the future – the usual couple stuff.’

  ‘But? I detect that there’s a “but”.’

  ‘Ryan always gave me the impression that he had money in the bank. When he qualified he bought a brand-new mobile forge and set up not far away from where Tony’s based in Wiltshire. I was going to be his partner in the business after I’d passed my diploma exam.’

  ‘Why did you break up, if you don’t mind me asking?’

  ‘We went on holiday to the Caribbean, staying in an exclusive resort on a banana plantation. It was a magical trip. On the last day, Ryan proposed on this beautiful beach with a ring wrapped in a banana leaf.’ I’m remembering it as if it were yesterday. ‘I was so excited. It was the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.’

  ‘So you said yes.’

  I nod, then correct myself, in case he’s under any misapprehension. ‘I didn’t accept because it was romantic. I was in love with him.’

  ‘I kind of guessed that. You seem quite …’ He searches for an appropriate description, and comes up with something that a Jane Austen heroine would say about her hero. ‘… Honourable, like you’d always do the right thing.’

  ‘I like to think so. I’m not afraid to speak out.’

  The track widens and the horses walk out smartly, matching each other stride for stride.

  ‘When we arrived at home, I discovered that he’d taken out loans, including the money for the engagement ring, in both our names. We had a massive row and things were never the same again. Ryan set himself up with a piece of posh totty who had her own place with several horses. I was gutted when I found out.’

  ‘I assume that he didn’t have the balls to tell you.’

  ‘I found text messages on his phone – I watched him put the password in so I could type it in myself – that didn’t have anything to do with shoeing horses. When I confronted him, he tried to tell me there was nothing going on, but eventually he admitted he was seeing someone else.’

  ‘I suppose it was better to find out sooner rather than later.’

  ‘It was too late in a way,’ I say, thinking of the debt that Ryan has racked up on my behalf. I’m too embarrassed to admit that I didn’t keep on top of our finances. I didn’t discover until too late that he’d cleared the money from our joint account. I started getting letters from the electricity and gas companies to inform me that the direct debits weren’t being paid. The bank won’t close the account until the overdraft has been paid off, and I can’t persuade Ryan to repay half of the money. He’s always got some excuse and now he’s avoiding my calls completely. It’s a worry I don’t wish to share with Robbie.

  He half turns his horse to face me as we reach the foot of a long hill. Nelson is on his toes, snatching at his bit and tossing his head.

  ‘How about a gallop? I’ll beat you to the telegraph pole.’

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ I call back, as Rafa dances on the spot in anticipation.

  He counts, ‘One, two, three, go.’

  And we’re off!

  I lean forwards like a jockey, standing up in my stirrups and letting out the reins as Rafa goes from 0 to 60 in seconds – okay, I’m exaggerating. It’s probably about 30 or 35, less than a racehorse. For a while he’s ahead of Nelson, but as we approach the top of the hill, his lack of fitness begins to tell, and I become aware that Nelson is gaining on us. I give Rafa a squeeze with my legs. He responds, lengthening his stride and fighting Nelson off. Nelson moves up again, his nose level with Rafa’s shoulder, then his neck, and we’re past the pole.

  Laughing, I start to pull up.

  ‘I make that a dead heat.’ Robbie grins as he lets Nelson relax into a walk, holding the reins at the end of the buckle.

  ‘No way. Rafa won it by a nose.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘I know so,’ I say, determined to have the last word.

  The dogs catch up with us and we move on, the horses puffing and blowing lightly, our clothes drying in the sun, as we return to Wisteria House, where Robbie says goodbye.

  ‘I hope I haven’t bored you. I don’t normally open up to people like that, but you’re easy to talk to.’ He reaches out and touches my thigh, sending a shot of electricity right through me. ‘That was fun. We’ll have to do it again.’

  ‘Thank you for showing me around.’

  ‘Anytime.’

  ‘Wish Maisie a happy birthday from me.’

  ‘Will do.’ He doesn’t seem in any hurry to ride away just yet, as if something is holding him back. ‘Oh, I know what I was going to ask you. I’ve spoken to Jack about that pony you told me about. I’ve arranged to go and have a look at him sometime. Maybe you could come with me. I thought you might like to see how he’s getting on.’

  I’d love to spend as much time as possible with you, I want to say, but I stick with, ‘Yes, I’d love to catch up with Paddington.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll be in touch. I’ll see you soon – I can’t remember when you’re next booked to come to us to get some shoes on the new mare.’

  ‘That could be interesting,’ I say, sighing inwardly.

  ‘She’ll be fine. I’ll be there – I’m sure we can do it between us.’

  I smile wryly. I reckon he will bring her round with his caresses and sweet-talk. I know I’d soon succumb to them if he was inclined to try out his moves on me.

  ‘Bye, Flick. Don’t be sad about the race – maybe you’ll beat me next time.’

  ‘I did beat you. I told you. By a nose.’

  He rides away as I turn into the drive. I smell of river water, and horse, and my hair is sticky under my hat, but I don’t care. Robbie might have called me ‘matey’, but he’s also noticed that I am a woman. Whether or not he’s been deliberately playing it cool, he failed to disguise his appreciation of my figure. He isn’t entirely as he appears, I think. Like the river, he has hidden depths.

  Chapter Six

  Nailed it

  On Tuesday, I have time to shoe Rafa first thing in the morning before I head off to attend to some horses at the local riding school. I like to keep busy. It takes my mind off the thought of having to get shoes on Diva. Considering how she behaved with Kerry the other day, even picking up her feet will be a challenge. Most horses are happy to be shod, but I’ve met a couple who could only be done under sedation from the vet. I hope Diva isn’t going to be like that.

  I turn into a driveway, signposted ‘Letherington Equestrian Centre’. I pass between a field sectioned into small paddocks with electric tape, and a warehouse-style shop called Tack ’n’ Hack where I suppress the urge to stop and have a look because there’s bound to be something, the latest horsey gadget or gizmo that I just have to have, although I can’t afford it.

  I drive on past a barn, through a car park, and on to a yard that’s bordered on three sides by breeze-block and tile stables. It’s tidy, but not spotless, with straw scattered about and a few weeds growing up in the cracks in the concrete, but the horses appear fit and well cared for. A brown one, with a white star on his forehead and a Roman nose that reminds me of my boss, looks over one of the doors, and a dapple-grey mare is tied up outside another. I jump out of the truck.

  ‘Good morning,’ I call, bringing a middle-aged woman marching across the yard towards me. Dressed in a cream blouse and tan jodhpurs, she has wide hips and a booty to rival Kim Kardashian’s.

  ‘I’m Flick.’ The horses touc
h noses and squeal.

  ‘You’re the farrier.’ She looks me up and down. ‘I’m Delphi.’ Her hair is streaked blonde and tied back, her complexion tanned and lined. Her accent is decidedly posh. ‘I don’t like chopping and changing because it’s unsettling for the horses, but Mel’s reassured me that you know what you’re doing.’

  ‘Where shall I start?’ I ask.

  ‘Willow needs a trim – all she does is a little light hacking. Dark Star is for refits all round – he’s an eventer.’ She waves towards the mare and the brown horse. ‘They belong to one of our local GPs, Nicci Chievely. We call her the galloping doctor.’ Delphi hardly pauses for breath. ‘Then there’s one of my dressage horses for a new set. And, as you’re here, if you wouldn’t mind having a look at one of the school ponies – she’s lame and I don’t want to bother the vet unless I have to.’

  I can’t help wondering if I’m going to be here all day.

  ‘One of my apprentices will be round to help you in a while. I can’t stop, I’m afraid. I’m taking a lesson in a few minutes.’ She strides away, leaving a trail of expensive perfume in the air behind her.

  I turn to the grey mare.

  ‘Willow, let’s have a look at those feet of yours.’

  I spend the rest of the morning with Delphi’s apprentice, Katie, a girl of nineteen who aspires to become an elite dressage rider, the next Charlotte Dujardin. She fetches me the other horses and provides me with a chipped mug of orange squash and soggy digestive biscuits. It’s quite pleasant on the yard, apart from a few annoying flies. Mindful of Mel’s instructions about taking payment at the time, I walk through into a second yard of cob-and-brick buildings, where the riding school ponies are stabled, and find Delphi in the indoor school beyond. She’s finished the lesson and her pupils are running up their stirrups and leading their mounts away.

  She takes me into a dark tack room where the air is thick with the scent of leather, saddle soap and camphor. She squeezes between the rows of saddles and bridles to reach the old desk in the far corner, on which there is a heap of paperwork. She takes a cheque from one of the drawers and counts out some cash from a biscuit tin.