Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage

by Cathy Woodman

  ‘I’m looking forward to it,’ he says.

  I cut the call and race off to change into a pair of fawn jodhpurs. I get as many of the day’s visits done in as short a time as possible before arriving at the Saltertons’, impatient to have a go at trick riding but apprehensive about making a fool of myself. As I exit the truck, the wolfhounds come trotting over and the taller one of the two nudges me in the crotch in greeting.

  ‘That’s called being overly familiar.’ I push him away and give him a pat.

  ‘Badger likes you,’ Robbie says.

  Eyes front, I tell myself, as I notice exactly how tight his leggings are, leaving nothing to the imagination. It’s a relief that he’s covered up, I think, amused that I should even be thinking such a thing. It’s because I’ve been so long without a man.

  ‘I can’t imagine you being nervous – you’re the coolest guy—’

  ‘Guy?!’ I exclaim.

  ‘I mean girl. You’re the coolest girl I know. It was a slip of the tongue. I’m sorry, but that’s how I see you. I can’t help it,’ he says earnestly, oblivious to how hurt that comment makes me feel. ‘You’re a laugh. One of the lads,’ he adds adamantly – so adamantly that I wonder, just for one delicious moment, if he’s having trouble convincing himself that that’s how he feels.

  But that seems like very wishful thinking. Apparently he still admires me for my manly qualities then, I think sadly. So much for the wet shirt.

  ‘Are you ready for this? Paddington’s in the stable – I’ve tacked him up. He went nuts when I put the saddle on, bucking and rearing.’

  My heart plummets.

  ‘He won’t be any good for Maisie then.’ I pick up my hat from the passenger seat in the truck, and ram it firmly on to my head. I don’t think he’s going to be much good for me either. I’m having doubts about what I’ve agreed to do. ‘If he’s completely wild when he comes out of the stable, I’m going to back out.’

  ‘I wouldn’t blame you.’ Robbie rests his hand on the latch and turns to me with a twinkle in his eye.

  ‘You’re winding me up,’ I say, relieved.

  ‘He’s been as quiet as a mouse. Look at him.’

  I move to Robbie’s side and look over the door, where Paddington is standing with his eyes closed, resting one leg. He seems perfectly comfortable in a saddle and bridle with the reins tucked safely behind the stirrups.

  ‘I think you’ll struggle to get him to move at all.’ Robbie opens the door and leads him out. ‘I was going to suggest that I lunged him first to take the wind out of his sails …’

  We walk with Paddington to the sand school. He grunts as Robbie pulls him up and tightens the girth.

  ‘I’m afraid his knees are going to buckle when I get on him.’

  ‘Come on, Flick. You don’t weigh anything.’ He smiles. ‘Do you want to get on from the mounting block?’

  I take over the reins and move the pony close to a set of wooden steps. I stand on the top and lean across Paddington’s back. He doesn’t budge, so I take up the reins, put my foot in the stirrup and swing my leg over his back. I sit down gently in the saddle and slip my right foot into the other stirrup, and sit there with my knees almost level with my chin.

  ‘Frankie Dettori, eat your heart out,’ Robbie chuckles. ‘Let me take those down for you.’

  ‘It’s okay, I can do it,’ I say, but without conviction. The belt-like leather straps will need adjusting so that the stirrups hang lower, but it’s a slightly awkward manoeuvre, and I can’t pretend I’m disappointed when Robbie ignores me and moves towards Paddington’s right side. Okay, I think, if he insists on helping out with an operation which is likely to involve some touching of my inner thigh, then at least one of us will have enjoyed it.

  Robbie is focusing firmly on the right-hand strap while I attend to the left. His shoulders are tight and the muscle in his cheek is taut; once he’s made the adjustment, he moves away abruptly.

  Mesmerised by Robbie’s proximity, I’m forgetting Paddington. I reach down and check the girth again. It’s nice and snug. I give him a squeeze with my legs and he ambles slowly forwards. We walk around the perimeter of the school before I ask him to step up the pace. He shifts into trot, making the minimum of effort, and breaking wind several times, making me laugh. I change the rein and we trot in the other direction before I ask him for canter. It takes three attempts and then he’s off like a pocket rocket, whizzing along at speed. Once he’s done a circuit, I pull him up. He puffs and blows as I let him walk around.

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Looking good,’ Robbie says.

  ‘Thank you, but I’m referring to Paddington.’

  ‘Very funny.’

  I pull up and dismount.

  ‘I assume that’s enough for him for today.’

  ‘I reckon so. Let’s put him away.’ Robbie takes over and I accompany him while he untacks Paddington and leaves him in the stable. I top up the water bucket from the tap outside while we chat.

  ‘Thanks for that. I’d have needed roller-skates to try him out.’ Robbie leaves the saddle and bridle on the rail outside. ‘I’ll turn him out later. It’s Kerry’s day off and Dillon’s gone to pick up some bags of feed from Overdown Farmers.’

  ‘I thought it was quiet.’

  ‘Maisie’s at school, and Mum and Dad have gone out for the day. They’re going to pick her up on their way home.’

  ‘You’re lucky having such a supportive family.’

  ‘I know … You’ve hardly talked about yours.’

  ‘As I said before, I’m an only child. My parents said my appearance was a miracle. My dad had been told that he was unlikely to father a child because he didn’t have very good swimmers. That’s what he and Mum used to say when I was little. I didn’t understand at first – for a long time, I had a picture in my head of lots of babies in armbands swimming about in a pool. Anyway, I was very much wanted.’ My eyelids start to burn, which is ridiculous. I swallow hard, surprised to find myself growing emotional talking of my parents. I think of them in their younger days, my mum with long dark hair and wearing a bright red dress, walking hand in hand with a handsome man with rugged features, a heavy brow, and dark hair flecked with grey who looked old enough to be her father.

  ‘My father was married when he met my mum. He was running a company. She was his PA. His family disowned him when he divorced and remarried. They said that it would never work, that she was a gold-digger, but they went on to have a good life together, united by their love of Spanish horses. I don’t see them very often now, but it was different when I was growing up.’

  Robbie waits for me to continue speaking.

  ‘I was spoiled to bits. I had everything I wanted, but I also felt swamped with attention.’ I feel sorry for Robbie as I recall how his mother left him. ‘They were what people describe as helicopter parents. In fact, Dad did have a helicopter for a while. He sold his part-share in order to buy a particularly desirable stallion. A few years later, the same horse kicked my father, breaking both kneecaps and leaving him hardly able to walk.’

  ‘How old is he?’ Robbie asks.

  ‘He’s in his seventies. I feel bad about what’s happened between us and I’d love to build bridges before it’s too late, but …’ I shrug. ‘I have my pride. I need to show them that I can go it alone, that I don’t need their money, and that I made the right decision for me.’

  Robbie is frowning as I continue. ‘My parents don’t approve of my choice of career. They had high expectations and they’ve made it clear that I’ve let them down.’

  ‘But you’ve done so well,’ he exclaims. ‘Look at you. You’re good at what you do and you’re going to make shedloads of money – well, not as much as a solicitor or a judge, but you don’t have to depend on the vagaries of the TV and film industry, as I do.’

  ‘They don’t see it that way. In fact, I hardly get in touch with them any more because I can’t bear to see their disappointed faces and listen to m
y mother’s jibes about how I’ll regret it one day, when my back goes and I’m working outside in all weathers. She goes on and on about how I’ll never get married when my muscles turn to fat as I get older. She’s pretty vain; when she was younger, she was what my dad describes as a stunner.’

  ‘Like you,’ Robbie says.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ Have I misheard?

  ‘You’re pretty stunning. Like mother, like daughter.’ He smiles. ‘You’re blushing.’

  ‘Thanks for the compliment.’ I look into his eyes, searching for what he means by it. He gives me a long, smouldering stare. My heart beats so hard that it feels as if it’s bursting out of my chest.

  ‘When I said “looking good” earlier, I meant it. I was talking about you.’ He has a half-smile on his lips when he turns away. ‘Are you ready to try out some tricks?’

  ‘What kind of tricks?’ I say, flirting with him.

  ‘You’ll have to wait and see,’ he says, flirting back. ‘Let me get the saddle.’

  I follow him into the tack room where he shows me a Western-style saddle with a metal horn at the front.

  ‘This is a trick saddle.’ He picks it up and we walk back towards the arena.

  ‘What, no horse?’ I say as he opens the gate.

  ‘First things first. We’re going to start with Woody.’

  ‘What’s that? Some kind of trick?’

  ‘It’s our pretend horse.’ He points towards a wooden structure that resembles a horse’s body on legs. It stands in the far corner of the school behind a set of jump wings and poles. ‘It’s cheap to keep and doesn’t need shoes. You can give him a pat, if you like. He doesn’t bite or kick.’ Robbie slides it across the sand so it’s away from the fence. ‘Let me show you what you’re aiming for.

  ‘A lot of the tricks we do today were used in battle,’ he goes on. ‘You can employ them for attack or self-defence, hiding behind your horse’s body while shooting at the enemy, or playing dead to reduce the risk of being shot at.’ He takes a run-up and vaults on. He shows me the layover, the suicide drag, the mane drag, backbreaker, and reverse fender, until I don’t know which one is which. He finishes his routine, standing perfectly balanced on the wooden horse’s back and holding his arms outstretched. ‘Your turn,’ he sings out as he jumps down on to the sand, landing lightly on his feet. His brow glistens with a sheen of perspiration. His cheeks are lightly flushed. I’m amused and flattered at the way he’s showing off. My knees grow weak too – from lust, not fear.

  ‘Go on then. What are you waiting for?’

  I summon my strength and take a run-up. I misjudge the distance and lose momentum, ending up halfway up the horse’s side. Even hanging on to the horn on the saddle and thrashing with my legs, I don’t make it, and I have to endure the indignity of making a second attempt before I scramble on top.

  Robbie talks me through how to move to a crouch position, and from there to standing up. He explains how to do a laydown and I lie on my back at right angles to the horse’s body, facing the sky.

  ‘Keep your legs and shoulders up. Hold your body straight.’ He presses gently on my abs, sending flickers of fire through my belly. I glance towards him. His pupils are dilated and dark with passion, his lips slightly parted. I’m not imagining it. There is definitely something going on between us. Not quite ‘one of the lads’ after all, then …

  ‘No banana shapes,’ he adds, his voice hoarse.

  ‘I need to work on my inner core,’ I say. I thought I was fit, but I’m not half as fit as my trainer. The trouble is that my inner core is currently a molten ball of longing and desire, and I’m finding it hard to concentrate. I want to kiss him. I need to feel his arms around me …

  I force myself to focus on the lesson. Robbie shows me a couple of other moves before heading off to fetch Nelson and Scout. I sit sideways on the wooden horse waiting for him, my mouth half open.

  ‘You can’t stay on Woody. That would be cheating.’ He laughs as he lets both horses loose in the school, a stick in his hand. ‘Watch and listen carefully.’ He calls Nelson to him and vaults on. I’m not sure how he signals to Scout, but he soon has them trotting slowly side by side with matching strides. I watch closely as he moves from a sitting position to a crouch and then to standing on Nelson’s back. He sends the horses into a steady canter, and stands with one leg on each horse, travelling around the school.

  My chest grows tight as I watch the three of them, moving as one with mutual trust. The horses aren’t working under duress. They’re enjoying it.

  Robbie brings them back to walk, pulls up and salutes me.

  ‘Show off!’ I jest, trying to hide the fact that their performance has brought me almost to tears.

  He jumps down between Scout and Nelson, landing softly like a cat, and gestures for me to join him.

  ‘Now you have a go.’ One eyebrow shoots up under his fringe as I hesitate. ‘Relax. I’ll be close by to hold your hand, metaphorically speaking. All you have to do is balance, go with the horses and remember to use your voice.’

  ‘Horses, as in both of them?’ I’m having severe doubts about my ability to balance on one, let alone two.

  ‘You’ll be too focused on using your voice to control them to worry about keeping your balance. If you’re worrying about staying on top, you’ll tense up and come off.’ He doesn’t give me time to argue. ‘I want you to vault on to Nelson – he’s as steady as a rock.’

  ‘He’s so big!’ A little voice reminds me that I’ve vaulted on to Rafa’s back before, and Nelson isn’t much taller. I take a few steps back, spring forwards and upwards, and pull myself on to his back. It isn’t elegant, but I make it.

  ‘I want you to do the same manoeuvre as you did on Woody, moving into a crouch as I walk Nelson along the long side of the school, and then, when you’re ready, into a standing position. Remember to breathe,’ he adds, as Nelson goes into walk.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this, I think, as I move into a crouch. That is fine, but when I start to straighten up and push myself up on to my feet, I notice I’m much higher off the ground, much higher. I wobble.

  ‘Right, start talking to the horse,’ Robbie instructs. ‘I’ll bring Scout alongside. When I say so, you need to push your weight on to your left leg and swing your right leg out.’

  ‘That sounds like I’m doing the hokey cokey.’ I soon discover that laughter and stunt riding are not compatible, and I lose my balance, tipping forwards and sliding back into the astride position.

  ‘Try again.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’m cut out for this.’

  ‘Don’t give up. You can do it.’ Robbie’s confidence is infectious, and soon I’m back on my feet, attempting to stretch between the two horses, so I’m standing with one foot on each of them. It takes three goes, but I make it eventually. ‘That’s it. You’ve got it.’

  I keep the horses moving, walking side by side. It’s great. I feel fantastic.

  ‘Thanks, Robbie.’

  ‘Don’t thank me too soon. Keep focused.’ He raises his voice as Scout on the outside starts to slow his pace. ‘And don’t forget to speak. You have to let the horses know what you want from them.’

  It’s too late. Scout comes to a complete halt and Nelson keeps going, and my thighs stretch and tear as I do the splits in the air and the ground flies towards me at an alarming rate. I land with a soft bump in the sand.

  Robbie is trying not to laugh. It looks as if Nelson could be laughing too, nudging me with his nose, as if to say, ‘What on earth are you doing down there?’

  ‘Are you okay?’ Robbie takes my hand and pulls me up. ‘You were doing so well until you got to that corner.’

  ‘I was so busy concentrating on staying upright that I forgot to speak.’ I brush a load of sand off my bum. Fawn jodhpurs weren’t the best choice.

  ‘On you get.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘One more time.’

  ‘You’re a hard taskmaster.’

  �
�It’s the only way. I want my pupils to fulfil their potential. It’s important for you to feel you’ve achieved something today. If you end the lesson now, all you’ll remember is sliding off. Come on. Onwards and upwards.’

  Ignoring the soreness in my muscles, I vault back on to Nelson. It’s easier this time. I remember to keep both horses moving as I step across to balance one foot on Scout’s back. They’re responsive to every command and I soon have them walking around the school in both directions. I throw my arms in the air. I’m on top of the world.

  ‘Okay, that’s great,’ Robbie says. ‘Let’s stop there.’

  ‘Whoah,’ I call and the horses come to a halt together. ‘I did it.’ I dismount and rub the horses’ necks to show my gratitude.

  ‘Well done. You’re a natural.’ Robbie moves in as if he’s going to thump me on the back like he does his brother but, at the last minute, he reaches around my shoulders and wraps his fingers around my upper arm. My heart pounds as he hesitates for a second time. Standing perfectly still, I glance up. He’s staring at me, his gaze travelling down my face, my neck, my breasts … I can hardly breathe as he leans in, his breath caressing my lips.

  ‘Tell me I’ve got this right,’ he whispers. ‘I thought … I can stop. I mean, I don’t want to wreck our friendship.’

  ‘You’ve taken me by surprise, that’s all.’

  ‘I didn’t think it would be that much of a shock to you. I’ve fancied you like mad almost since you first arrived in Furzeworthy.’

  ‘Have you?’ I frown.

  ‘Pretty much since I found you limping along the lane without your horse. I wanted to whisk you up and gallop away with you.’

  ‘I didn’t think you were interested. You treated me like I was one of the lads.’

  ‘I know. I was trying to avoid any complications. I thought if I could forget you were … a female farrier, I could resist, but I can’t do it any more. You are just too gorgeous for words.’

  ‘Don’t speak then.’ I tilt my head towards him and touch my lips to his, and we kiss. My head spins. I feel as if I’m dissolving into him.

  ‘Daddy, I’ve been looking for you,’ a small voice interrupts.