Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage

by Cathy Woodman

  Robbie and I spring apart. I touch my mouth where just a moment ago his lips were in contact with mine. He groans.

  ‘What are you two doing?’ Maisie asks.

  ‘We were in the middle of something.’ He lifts her into his arms. ‘Did you have a good day at school?’

  ‘Yes.’ She gives his nose an affectionate pinch. ‘What thing? Were you kissing?’

  ‘No, Flick thought she’d been stung by a wasp. I was checking she was all right. She’s just had a lesson.’

  ‘Did my daddy learn you how to be a stunt rider?’

  ‘It’s “teach”,’ Robbie says. ‘You’re supposed to say, “Did my daddy teach you …?”’

  ‘I’ve learned a lot today,’ I say, ‘but it’s going to be a long time until I’m any good.’

  ‘I’ll have to give you a few more lessons,’ he grins, and I smile back, because that is exactly what I want to hear. The more the merrier. ‘Flick’s been riding Paddington today,’ he continues.

  ‘Can I ride him?’ Maisie asks. ‘I wanna ride him.’

  ‘Tomorrow. He’s tired now and needs a rest. Maisie, please will you stay here with Flick while I put Nelson and Scout away? Health and safety.’

  ‘Health and safety,’ she echoes.

  I stand beside her as he leads the horses away.

  ‘Can I buy you that drink sometime?’ I ask when we catch up with him at the stables. ‘We used to go for a pint or two after work on a hot day like this.’

  ‘Two pints?’ Robbie looks at me, his eyes creased with humour.

  ‘Not every day!’ I exclaim.

  ‘I’ll see if Mum’s happy to babysit tonight—’

  ‘I’m not a baby,’ Maisie cuts in.

  ‘All right, I know, I’m sorry. Flick, I’ll text you later.’

  After I’ve left the Saltertons’, it’s another three hours before I finish work and get back to the B&B, when I receive a text from Robbie to say that our trip to the pub is on. I look after Rafa with Ashley looking on. He accepts my offer of letting him help me lead Rafa out to the paddock where, locked in his customary silence, he gives him a carrot. I decline Louise’s offer of a gossip over a drink. I shower, replace the dressing on my thumb, and slip into a red skater dress and pumps before Robbie picks me up. The fake tan effect isn’t great – I spend too much time in the sun in jeans for my skin to have a natural glow. My knees have turned out darker than my ankles, but Robbie looks covetously at my legs, much as he looked at Rafa the first time we met.

  ‘You look … very different.’ He opens the Land Rover door for me. ‘In a good way. Lovely …’

  ‘Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.’ He smells good, too, of aftershave and fabric conditioner. I resist the temptation to turn my head to kiss him. I climb in and he closes the door.

  ‘Maisie can’t wait to ride Paddington,’ he says as we set off. ‘I’ve left poor Mum trying to convince her to have a bath before bed. She’s amazing. I couldn’t have got through the nappy stage, the teething and the tantrums without her. I’m referring to Maisie, not me.’ He changes the subject. ‘I thought we’d try the Talymill Inn along the river. The Dog and Duck’s a bit downmarket.’

  ‘I don’t mind which one. It’s good of you to offer to drive.’

  ‘I’ve not been much of a drinker since I became a dad. Hangovers and baby sick don’t mix.’ He takes me along a road that runs parallel with the river and pulls into a car park outside an old mill, a building constructed from brick and tiles and smothered with window-boxes and hanging baskets of greenery and flowers.

  ‘This is it.’ Robbie parks between a black convertible and an antique tractor. ‘A couple of Londoners moved here and did it up before selling it on to the current owners. There’s a beer garden at the back that runs down to the water, and a children’s play area – Maisie loves it. I used to bring her here with the mums and tots when we were part of Talyton’s toddler group. We’d have coffee and biscuits and chat about men and relationships and potty-training. It was embarrassing at times, but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Maisie enjoyed the company of the other kids and I got plenty of help and support from the mums.’ His face reddens. ‘I was the only dad, so I received a lot of attention and the pick of the biscuits.’

  It appears that neither of us is in a hurry to break the intimacy of being just the two of us in the Land Rover, but eventually we make our way inside the pub, with Robbie following along behind me to the bar where I order drinks.

  ‘Mine’s an alcohol-free lager, please,’ he says.

  ‘And I’ll have a glass of rosé,’ I say to the barman, wondering if I should be mixing alcohol with my antibiotics.

  ‘You aren’t drinking beer?’ Robbie says quietly in my ear. ‘I assumed you’d have a pint of real ale.’

  ‘I’m not one of the lads now.’

  ‘I can vouch for that.’ He smiles and brushes my bare arm with his fingertips, sending a rush of heat right through me.

  The barman rings up the price of the drinks at the till while I pull out my purse for some cash. There isn’t any. I check inside my mobile phone case where I usually tuck away a twenty-pound note for emergencies, but it’s gone and I remember that I spent it on my prescription and some other bits and pieces, including Polo mints for Rafa, at the chemist’s. No problem. I pull out my card and hold it over the terminal for contactless payment, but the card is declined.

  ‘How can that be?’ I exclaim, although I know perfectly well. The account is empty and I’ve maxed out to the limit of the overdraft. ‘It worked fine the other day.’ I try it again with the same result. I’m starting to sweat because there are two drinks sitting on the bar and I have no way of paying for them.

  ‘Perhaps you need a replacement card,’ Robbie says. ‘Let me pay for these. You can call the bank tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.’ I’ll have to ask Mel for an advance on my wages.

  Robbie pays and I pick up the drinks and carry them through the busy pub. We pass a group of women – I recognise Gina from Nethercott Farm among them – before we find a free table. I sit down opposite Robbie in the shade of a giant fern and watch the massive wheel turning in the white water in the mill-race that’s been incorporated into the building behind a sheet of glass.

  ‘Cheers.’ Robbie picks up his lager.

  We touch glasses and I take a gulp of wine, swallowing it down quickly. It’s warm and metallic, like tea mixed with iron filings. I don’t know why people drink the stuff – I smile to myself – unless they’re trying to show someone how refined and sophisticated they are.

  Robbie puts one finger to his lips and nods towards the group of women.

  I listen. They are laughing and talking very loudly.

  ‘Is it so wrong to flirt with your farrier?’ says one of them – Gina, I think.

  ‘You’ve made a bit of a habit of it,’ says another.

  ‘Have you heard? Mel’s taken on a woman to cover for him while he’s having his back done. I met her the other day.’

  ‘I can’t have that. I’ll have to find somebody else. A female farrier couldn’t manage my horse. Maverick isn’t naughty. He’s highly strung. He needs gentle handling and Mel is just the man to do it.’

  ‘When I find an alternative farrier, I’ll let you know,’ Gina says. ‘If you’ll let me get a word in edgeways, I’ll explain what happened. She came out to shoe Rambo the other day, and one of his shoes has already come off.’

  My heart plummets. Of all the horses to lose a shoe, why did it have to be that one? Gina was sceptical when I arrived at Nethercott Farm. This will only have proved her point, even though I did nothing wrong.

  ‘What about Mel?’ the other woman asks. ‘How will he feel if we all … well, it feels like we’re dumping him?’

  ‘I can’t help thinking that he deserves it,’ Gina says, and although I’m angry at her comments about my competence, I reckon that her attitude has a lot to do with my bo
ss not letting her know he was going for his operation. ‘She’s hopeless and I’m going to make sure all the horse owners in this area know it.’

  ‘That’s enough.’ Robbie gets up and grabs my hand. ‘Come with me.’

  ‘I can stand up for myself,’ I protest, although I’d rather leave it alone, but he’s already letting the group know what he feels about their bitching.

  ‘For those of you who haven’t met her, this is Flick, my farrier,’ he says, and the women fall silent. Gina sits fiddling with a heart-shaped locket on a chain around her neck. ‘All of us know how careless horses are about their clothing, trashing their rugs and losing their shoes. It happens. You really shouldn’t go around wrecking reputations when your own reputation is pretty fragile.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Gina blushes.

  ‘You know what I mean. Anyway, my new mare was trying to kill her the other day and, even though she had a nail through her hand, she carried on and finished the job. She’s shod Nelson too, and everyone knows I wouldn’t trust just anyone to look after him.’ He pauses. ‘And that’s enough gossip about Mel. He’s my cousin’s husband, in case you’ve forgotten. I’d appreciate it if you had some respect for her feelings.’

  ‘Everyone knows what he’s like,’ the other woman says.

  ‘He’s made some mistakes along the way. So what? We all have,’ Robbie says fiercely. He glares at Gina.

  I step forwards, linking my arm through his.

  ‘Let’s go back and sit down,’ I say. ‘It isn’t worth it.’

  ‘You’re right,’ he says, turning to me. ‘Would you like another drink?’

  ‘Thank you, but I haven’t finished the first one yet.’

  ‘I’ll get another one in anyway. What are you having this time?’

  ‘Okay, I’ll try half a pint of the local real ale.’

  Feeling guilty that he’s paying for a second round, I pop out to the Ladies to freshen up. I meet Robbie on the way back to our table. He’s carrying two glasses.

  ‘Enjoy.’ He smiles as he places them on the table.

  ‘Thank you.’

  He pulls the chair out for me and I sit down, my mind in a flurry of anticipation. He takes the seat opposite and stretches out his long legs under the table. His calf sidles up against mine and there it stays.

  We talk about music and our favourite box sets. Robbie’s is Game of Thrones, but he can’t watch it when Maisie is around. Mine is The Wire. As for music, I confess that my girl-crush is Taylor Swift. Robbie’s musical tastes are varied, from the Beatles to Maroon 5.

  ‘I listen to anything,’ he says. ‘We often leave the radio on for the dogs, and Kerry always has music on when she’s on the yard.’

  Kerry, I think. Now’s my chance to ask.

  ‘Are you and she an item?’

  ‘Oh no. We’re friends.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I was being nosy,’ I say happily.

  ‘She’s worked for us for over three years now. She’s like part of the family.’ He hesitates. ‘Have you thought any more about your plans when you finish here with Mel?’

  ‘Not really.’ I raise one eyebrow. ‘Are you trying to get rid of me already?’

  He grins. ‘Not at all. Rather the opposite, in fact.’

  ‘I need to earn some money first, then I’ll look for a second-hand van so I can strike out on my own. I want my own business. I like the idea of not having to depend on anyone else.’

  ‘I have a friend, the guy at the garage, who buys and sells used vehicles. I can ask him to look out for something suitable. Have you got a budget in mind?’

  ‘It has to be as cheap as possible, reliable, and not a rust-bucket. It doesn’t matter about the colour.’

  ‘I’ll have a word with him when I take the Land Rover in for its MOT.’

  We continue chatting for a while longer before setting out for home. As we travel along the narrow lane towards Wisteria House in the pale light of the crescent moon, I wonder what will happen next. Would Mel and Louise mind if I invited him in for coffee? Will he sweep me off to Cherry Tree Cottage for kisses and cuddles?

  He pulls in beside the gate outside the B&B, leaving the engine running and the gearstick throbbing between us. He leans across and slides his arm behind my shoulders.

  ‘Much as I’d like to, I’m afraid I can’t stop now – I told Mum I wouldn’t be later than eleven.’ He smiles ruefully. ‘I don’t like to take advantage of her in case she doesn’t offer again.’

  I understand. Robbie has an unassailable commitment to his daughter. I’m not sure how I feel about it, though. When he said there was nothing going on between him and Kerry, I was relieved because it meant that he was free to see me, but now it seems that he isn’t as available as I’d hoped.

  ‘Are you free at the weekend?’ he asks.

  ‘This weekend?’ I say stupidly, my heart hammering hard.

  ‘I’m having a barbecue at the cottage to celebrate Mum and Dad’s silver wedding anniversary. Everyone’s invited. It’s casual – wear what you like and bring a bottle. No presents, at my father’s request.’

  ‘It sounds a bit daunting, a family occasion.’

  ‘Oh no, there’ll be lots of people there.’

  ‘What time?’ I say, making my mind up.

  ‘Any time after seven. All the horses will be out by then. Don’t be late. I might need your help with the barbecue.’ He inclines his head towards mine and presses his mouth to my lips, and I’m lost in his embrace until, eventually, he pulls away.

  ‘I’d better go,’ he murmurs, his reluctance to make a move evident in the tension in his face and his sigh of regret. ‘I don’t want to, but …’

  ‘I’ll see you at the weekend,’ I whisper. ‘Goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight, Flick.’

  He waits for me to close the gate before he drives away. I walk past Rafa’s paddock, where he comes ambling up to the gate at the sound of my footsteps on the drive. I give him a mint from my bag before I return indoors, where the house is in darkness and everyone is asleep.

  Upstairs, I lie on the bed. A delicious tingle of anticipation runs from the top of my head to the soles of my feet as I dream of being in Robbie’s arms with our mouths and bodies locked together. I can taste his kisses, smell his musky masculine scent, and hear the pounding of our hearts. I’m getting carried away. I’m ready, I think, for another relationship after Ryan, now that he’s out of my system – emotionally at least, if not financially yet. I can say that now, though I still don’t know how I’d feel if I ever saw him again. I smile to myself. I shouldn’t have started reading the romance novels at Wisteria House for something to do in the evenings.

  It’s all very well dreaming, though. I have more pressing concerns. How am I going to cope without money? Working for Mel for three months or so isn’t necessarily going to get me out of the hole I’m in. Not only do I have to repay my debts, I have to support myself and Rafa, and set up my own business.

  I can’t sleep. I turn on the iPad and surf the Internet for second-hand trucks, vans and furnaces to help me focus my mind on the future, and how I think I want it to be, but I can’t help feeling that planning ahead is futile when I can’t afford a round of drinks, let alone a truck.

  Chapter Eight

  The Healing Power of Horses

  When I get Rafa ready on the morning of the barbecue, I ask him what he thinks I should wear tonight. He merely nudges my pocket to see if I have any treats. I hack him past the field where the piglets squeal and scamper about while the sows look on wearily as if they’d appreciate some peace and quiet. One of them stands belly deep in a muddy wallow beside one of the water troughs, her eyes half closed in the spring sunshine.

  After I’ve washed Rafa down with Ashley looking on, I return him to his stable for the day. I grab a drink from the kitchen and Louise offers me cake before I go out again.

  ‘It’s carrot cake so it’s vaguely healthy,’ she observes as she cuts me a huge slice. ‘I’m assuming
you won’t want dinner tonight as you’ll be at the barbecue.’

  ‘That’s right. I should have said. I’m sorry.’

  ‘No worries. Robbie mentioned it when I saw him in town today. Mel and I are going, and Ashley, although I’ll bring him home early if he feels overwhelmed. I’m hoping he’ll feel quite chilled because Maisie is there.’ She smiles. ‘It’s a great night out. We go every year to celebrate some occasion or other. You and Robbie? Are you and he …? Do I have to spell it out?’

  ‘We’re friends, that’s all.’ I turn away to read the headline on the paper on the table.

  ‘You seem to be spending a lot of time together,’ Louise tries again.

  ‘It’s because of the horses.’

  ‘Sure,’ she says wryly. ‘As I’ve said before, he’s a lovely guy, but he’s wary of dating. He has to be because of Maisie. She doesn’t need a constant stream of women passing through her life. Children –’ she glances at Ashley, who is removing the wheels from a toy lorry – ‘need stability.’

  ‘I’m off to do a couple of trims,’ I say, changing the subject. I drain my glass and eat the last crumbs of carrot cake before saying goodbye.

  On my way, I drop into Talyton St George to buy wine from Lacey’s Fine Wines and a bouquet of flowers from Petals as a small gift for Robbie’s parents, using a credit card.

  Later, I see to Rafa and call Sarah for a chat. She invites me to her and David’s upcoming housewarming party and suggests that I bring a friend. I mention a particularly hot stunt rider and she’s so excited for me that I’m afraid she might give birth there and then.

  For my evening out, I choose a white cotton top with puff sleeves, caught in at the waist, revealing a hint of flesh, a pair of pale blue shorts to show off my legs, and deck shoes. I wear a silver necklace with a simple crystal pendant and put on some make-up. Satisfied with my appearance, I drop into the kitchen to see if Louise, Mel and Ashley are about. Mel is at the table, eating beans on toast, Ashley is playing with Lego, and Louise is checking the B&B bookings in her diary. She looks up.

  ‘You’re keen,’ she says with a gleam in her eye.