‘We’re running late as usual,’ Mel says.
‘Tell Robbie we’ll be there soon,’ Louise adds. ‘Mel’s had to have a snack in case he burns the steaks like he did last year.’
‘And the year before,’ he grumbles. ‘There are some men who shouldn’t be in charge of a spatula and grill, and Robbie’s one of them.’
‘Oh, don’t be mean,’ Louise says. ‘At least he attempts something more complicated than beans on toast once in a while.’
‘Why should I learn to cook when I have a beautiful wife who roasts and bakes like an angel?’
‘Give over.’ She flutters her eyelashes at her husband.
‘It’s the truth.’
‘You wouldn’t know the truth if it came and hit you in the face.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ He straightens in his chair. ‘Ouch! I’m not sure I’ll be able to stay long tonight. My back’s killing me.’
‘Don’t you dare duck out,’ Louise cuts in. ‘I had to have Sunday dinner with your brother and all his kids last week. The least you can do is return the favour and spend time with my family. It’s Uncle Neil’s silver wedding anniversary. It’s special.’
‘All right, I’ll suffer,’ Mel groans.
‘Great,’ says Louise, ‘as long as you promise to suffer in silence.’
He smiles. ‘You know me.’
‘Yes, I do, only too well.’
‘I’ll be off then,’ I say.
‘If you wait, we can give you a lift,’ Louise says.
‘It’s okay. I’ll walk. It isn’t far.’
‘There’s a space in the car for the way home, if you’re coming back this way tonight,’ she goes on, ‘but if you aren’t, I’ll check on Rafa for you and bring him in tomorrow morning.’
‘Thanks. Um, I’ll see you soon.’ I escape from the kitchen, grab my bag with the wine and present, and make my way to Cherry Tree Cottage, wondering if I’ll be spending the night there. I won’t take my toothbrush. I’m not that presumptuous, but I am quietly optimistic. Robbie is a red-blooded male. We’re both adults. If a kiss should become a cuddle and lead on to something more, why not? We know where we stand. A springtime of friendship could lead to a summer of love.
Blue and silver balloons, tied with ribbons and dancing in the light breeze, are strung along the fence beside the Saltertons’ drive. The sun is low in the sky and the shadows of the trees are lengthening as I walk past a row of cars and up towards the cottage. There are people I don’t recognise congregated around a picnic bench at the end of the lawn, so I head for the house, past the cherry blossom that is scattered like confetti across the grass. The front door is open. I knock and walk on in, taking care not to trip on Maisie’s riding boots, which have been cast across the flagstone floor. There’s no one in the kitchen, but there are signs of recent occupation: two bowls of salad – one tomato and onion, one green; knives; chopping blocks; paper bags and cardboard boxes from one of the local farm shops. It looks much like a work in progress.
Through the window, I catch sight of Robbie in the back garden. Dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved blue shirt, he’s standing over a barbecue on the patio, blowing on to the coals.
‘You look like you could do with some help,’ I call from the door.
‘Hi.’ He straightens. His eyes caress my body from top to toe and back again. ‘I’d like to say that I have everything under control, but …’ He holds out his hands. ‘… As you can see.’
I want to fall into his arms, but I notice that Maisie’s on her way up from the bottom of the garden with a bucket and spade, and the two dogs, and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to behave.
‘I thought I could cope, but I underestimated the amount of preparation. I’m in the doghouse because I forgot to wash Maisie’s party dress, I was late firing up the barbie, and I haven’t chopped the veg yet.’
‘Daddy, I’m bored,’ Maisie announces as she reaches us. She’s wearing a sage-green shift dress embroidered with white daisies. ‘Hello, Flick. You need a new pair of shorts.’
I panic. Have I torn them?
‘They’re too small, just like my school uniform.’
‘Who do you think you are, the fashion police? They look great to me,’ Robbie says bashfully. ‘Just right.’
I tug at the hem.
‘I don’t think that’ll make any difference,’ he chuckles. ‘You look amazing.’
The shorts are revealing – that was my intention – but, even so, my face flushes hot.
‘Why are you going red?’ Maisie says, not missing a thing.
‘She’s caught the sun because she didn’t wear her sunblock.’ Robbie gives me a conspiratorial wink.
‘That’s very naughty.’
‘I think Flick could be quite wicked in all kinds of ways,’ he teases.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ I tip my head to one side, hoping I look coquettish. I could certainly get wicked with Robbie. Hopefully tonight.
‘Can I stay up late?’ Maisie asks.
‘If you’re on your best behaviour.’
‘I’ll be good,’ she says quickly.
‘You can stay up if you’re good too, Flick. Can’t she, Daddy?’
He casts me a glance. ‘Flick is a grown-up, so she can go to bed where and when she chooses.’
A second flood of heat rushes up my neck at the thought that I can also choose with whom.
‘Go and wash your hands,’ Robbie says. ‘She’s overexcited,’ he adds as she disappears indoors. ‘Like me.’ He takes both my hands and pulls me in for a quick kiss. ‘I’m glad you could come. I thought we could spend some time together afterwards … if you’d like to.’
‘I’d love to,’ I smile.
He releases my hands and takes a step back.
‘What can I do?’ I say softly. ‘I could light your fire, if you like.’
‘It’s already alight –’ he glances over his shoulder at the coals that are glowing orange on the barbecue – ‘in more ways than one.’
‘I’ll prepare the veg.’
‘Thank you.’ Robbie shows me to the kitchen table where I leave my bag and start cutting up courgettes, onions and mushrooms. ‘Dillon’s supposed to be here to give me a hand.’
‘Are you talking about me?’ Robbie’s brother comes striding into the room and takes his brother in an affectionate stranglehold. I slide a cherry tomato on to a kebab stick as Maisie returns at speed to greet her uncle.
‘It’s time for a drink,’ Dillon says.
‘We have apple juice or cola,’ Maisie says.
‘There’s beer in the larder and wine in the fridge.’ Robbie extricates himself from Dillon’s embrace and turns to me. ‘There are a couple of bottles of rosé – I remembered.’
Oops, I think.
‘I have a confession to make,’ I begin. ‘I’m not keen on wine. In fact, I hate the stuff.’ Robbie frowns while Dillon looks on with interest. ‘I didn’t want you to think I drank pints all the time like one of the lads.’
‘That’s quite bizarre. You’re a good actress … or should that be actor? I really thought you were enjoying it.’
‘You’ve made quite an impression on my brother.’ Dillon grins as he takes a beer from the larder and snaps the lid off the bottle with his teeth.
‘You have remembered you offered to babysit your niece tonight,’ Robbie says.
‘It’s all right.’ Dillon’s eyes sparkle with amusement. ‘I won’t let anything get in the way of romance.’
‘You also promised to keep your mouth shut,’ Robbie adds.
‘You’re so easy to wind up, big brother,’ Dillon chuckles.
‘I wouldn’t have to take everything so seriously if you weren’t such an idiot sometimes.’
‘You can rely on me.’
‘Can I?’ Robbie stares him straight in the eyes.
‘You know you can.’ A shadow of emotion crosses Dillon’s face. I’m not sure if it’s hurt, or offence, or a
mixture of the two. ‘I trust you with my life. I wish you could say the same of me.’ He pauses as if to let his brother speak, but Robbie remains silent, his lips pressed together.
‘Remember when we rode all the way to the quarry on the other side of East Hill,’ Dillon continues. ‘There was that drop into the water where I chickened out at the last minute and you went for it. And the gap between the rocks where you galloped straight through, even though it was only just wide enough for a horse. You had Nelson rearing up at the top of the fifty-foot cliff, bringing his feet down right at the edge and sending boulders crashing down the slope beneath you. I looked up to you. I was proud of you. I thought I couldn’t have a better brother. Now look at you, with your folder of risk assessments. You’re a wuss.’
‘I have Maisie to think of,’ Robbie says quietly.
‘Hey, can I join the party?’ I look up to find Kerry, wearing a short navy cocktail dress and heels, walking into the kitchen, where she makes a beeline for Robbie, kissing him on the cheek, before turning her attention to Dillon.
‘Hello, Maisie. Flick, I didn’t know you were coming.’ She hardly gives me a glance, as if she’s dismissing me altogether. I wonder if she has some kind of problem with me. Is she jealous of my friendship with Robbie, or my status as the Saltertons’ farrier, or is she unimpressed with my outfit? My host said the dress code was casual, but I feel decidedly underdressed.
‘I’ll help myself to wine.’ She takes a couple of glasses from the cardboard box on the worktop beside the sink.
‘Allow me.’ Robbie takes a bottle from the fridge, opens it and pours it for her.
‘Thank you, hun. Let me get you a beer – you don’t seem to be drinking.’
‘No, it’s okay. I’m on the wagon tonight.’
‘You’re becoming a bit of a Grinch,’ Kerry observes.
‘That’s what I’ve just been telling him,’ Dillon joins in.
‘Thanks a lot,’ Robbie says wryly. ‘I don’t want to be drunk in charge of the barbecue, that’s all.’
‘Gemma’s with me, by the way,’ Kerry says, handing a glass of wine to Dillon. ‘She’s keen to see you again.’
‘Who’s Gemma?’ I ask Robbie, when Kerry and Dillon leave the kitchen together. ‘I noticed how his face lit up.’
‘She’s one of Kerry’s friends. She works with Matt at Westleigh Equine as a vet nurse. Dillon fancies her like mad, but she isn’t quite so keen on him.’
‘What about Kerry? Does she have a significant other?’
‘She likes to play the field. I can’t imagine her ever settling down.’
‘I don’t think she likes me,’ I observe as Maisie, having heard voices, runs off to find out which guests have arrived.
‘I like you,’ Robbie mouths as people start to make their way through the kitchen and out to the back garden. ‘Let me introduce you.’
I meet Louise’s parents, who run the nearby Barnscote Hotel. Her mother and Robbie’s aunt, Elsa, is the person who breeds the outdoor-reared pigs. Neil and Sally Ann make their appearance soon after. Neil is wearing a blazer and grey flannel trousers, while his wife looks glamorous in a long fuchsia dress and jacket. Louise, Mel and Ashley turn up too, along with a number of others, including Matt and Dr Nicci, the Fox-Giffords and the Barneses, who all happen to be clients of Mel’s. It’s a great party – I shouldn’t have worried because, even if we have nothing else in common, we can talk horses all evening.
I hand over my gifts to Sally Ann.
‘You shouldn’t have,’ she says, giving me a hug. ‘I’m so glad you could come, especially after what you’ve done finding Paddington for Maisie. She loves that pony. We all do.’
Feeling a little awkward among this close band of friends and family, I hang out with Robbie, assisting with the barbecue. The sausages and burgers begin to sizzle, the wine and beer and conversation flow, but there’s no sign of his daughter, which is unusual. She isn’t usually far away.
‘Where’s Maisie?’ I ask. ‘I haven’t seen her for a while.’
‘She and Ashley went off with Dillon.’
‘Dillon’s here,’ I point out. He’s leaning against the wall of the cottage with a bottle of beer in one hand and one arm around a girl.
Robbie’s mood changes. He approaches his brother, his eyes glinting with irritation.
‘Where are the kids? You’re supposed to be looking after them.’
‘I don’t know. They can’t be far away.’ Dillon shrugs and the girl steps aside.
‘They need constant supervision. You know that.’
‘We used to play out all the time. We survived.’
‘There’s danger everywhere, the horses, the pond …’ Robbie bundles him up against the wall, the sinews of his neck taut with barely suppressed fury. ‘Where the f— are they?’
Choking, Dillon pushes his brother backwards.
‘If you let me speak … they were with the pony.’
‘Which one?’
‘Paddington.’
‘How many times do I have to tell you?’
‘They won’t come to any harm,’ Dillon argues, as a high-pitched scream penetrates the dusk.
‘What’s that?’ Robbie says urgently.
There’s another scream and another. Robbie’s face is white. He turns and tears down the drive towards the yard with Dillon in hot pursuit. I follow, my breathing sharp and painful. Paddington’s stable door is open. The light is on. Robbie disappears inside.
‘They’re okay,’ he shouts. ‘Maisie and Ash – they’re fine.’
‘Where’s the pony?’ I ask.
‘He can’t have gone far,’ Dillon slurs.
‘You better hope he hasn’t.’ Robbie looks up from where he’s squatting down in the shavings with Maisie’s arms around his neck. Ashley stands in the corner. I want to comfort him, but I know he hates being touched.
‘We were playing,’ Maisie sobs. ‘I was the therapy person and Paddington was helping Ashley to talk.’
‘You know you mustn’t do anything with the ponies without a grown-up. It isn’t safe.’
‘Ashley loves Paddington.’
‘We all do, but that doesn’t mean you can just set yourself up as an equine therapist. Where is the pony?’
‘I don’t know. He ran away.’
‘Dillon, take Maisie and Ashley back to the cottage. Flick and I will look for Paddington.’ He turns to me as the children walk away with Dillon in tow. ‘Where would he go? Think like a pony.’
‘Let’s try the feed room.’
‘He can’t get in there. It’s locked.’
‘There’s a bolt across—’
‘You don’t think …?’
We head for the corner of the yard and, sure enough, the door is wide open.
‘He broke in, the cheeky sod!’ Robbie grabs my arm. ‘Listen.’
I can hear the clanging of metal bins being knocked about, followed by rustling and chomping. As we look inside, a white face looms out of the darkness.
‘Come here, Padds.’ Robbie laughs as he dives into the feed room and puts an arm around the pony’s neck to pull him away from his impromptu supper. ‘No takeaways. You’ll get tummy-ache.’ He leads him outside and back to his stable, hanging on to his mane and holding a small scoop of feed in front of him as a bribe. He closes the door on him and slides the bolt across, along with the kick-over bolt at the bottom which Paddington can’t reach.
‘All’s well that ends well,’ I say cheerfully. ‘We haven’t started yet. Come here.’ He glances around as he pulls me close for a kiss, his lips on mine, his hands running down my back, his fingertips grazing the skin above the waistband of my shorts and moving down to my buttocks, giving them a squeeze. I melt into him as the sun goes down over the hills.
‘Robster! Ash wants to know if you’ve found the pony.’
Robbie and I jump apart at the sound of Mel’s voice. I don’t know why. It isn’t as if we’re doing anything wrong. It’s just that I want to k
eep it to ourselves for a while. Robbie catches my eye and grins as he turns the light on from outside Paddington’s stable. It’s our delicious little secret.
‘He’s safe,’ I say. Louise and Ashley are following close behind Mel and come to join us. Ashley looks over the stable door and Paddington walks across to greet him with a touch of his whiskery muzzle against his cheek.
Louise reaches out her hand. Robbie shakes his head.
‘Leave them be,’ he says quietly.
‘I don’t like it,’ Mel mutters from behind me. ‘Ash doesn’t do horses.’
I think from the way that he sometimes hangs around when I’m looking after Rafa that Ashley likes him, but I keep my mouth shut.
‘Sh,’ Louise says.
‘Padd-ing-ton.’ Ash squeals and I make to move towards them, afraid that the pony is going to react with a nip or head-butt, but Robbie holds me back, his hands on my waist.
‘They’re okay,’ he whispers.
I watch, holding my breath as Ash reaches up and strokes the pony’s face. He squeals again, then bursts into laughter.
‘Oh-mi-God.’ Louise turns and grasps Mel’s arm as Ash laughs again. It’s a bubbling sound, like the river flowing over the stones in the shallows, fresh and clean and new.
‘It’s a miracle,’ Louise murmurs.
Robbie pulls me closer so I can feel his body pressed against my back, his chin resting on my shoulder and his cheek against mine.
‘It’s proof of the healing power of horses, if anyone should need it,’ he says for Mel’s benefit, I think, as Mel stands aside like a brooding shadow beneath the overhang. The emotion in Robbie’s voice shatters me. I can’t hold back the tears at the sight of the bond between a boy and a very ordinary pony who’s turned out to be quite extraordinary. Robbie hands me something from his pocket, a tissue.
‘Thank you.’ I dab at my eyes and continue to watch until eventually Paddington steps back from the door and Ashley turns to face his mum.
‘Padd-ing-ton,’ he says.
‘I know,’ she says, a sob catching in her throat as he reaches for her hand. ‘Let’s go and find Maisie.’
We walk up the path to the cottage, Louise and Ashley strolling along with me and Robbie while Mel limps a few paces behind.
Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage Page 13
