Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage

by Cathy Woodman

  ‘I’m sure you will.’

  ‘I’m going to have a couple of evenings in the forge to check that I can still make a decent shoe from scratch.’

  ‘Perhaps we could go for a hack early in the week. Give me your mobile number then we don’t have to keep in touch via Mel’s business phone.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll text you.’

  As I leave, with Robbie making sure that the coast is clear, he smiles softly and my heart lurches, and I know that it’s too late to go back to being just friends. We need to talk about where we’re going, if that’s what we both want. I realise there are all sorts of complications, but I can see what the summer could be like if we carried on seeing each other. I wouldn’t be averse to being with Robbie every night, drifting off to sleep in his arms and waking up nestled into his chest each morning.

  I walk quickly back to Wisteria House where Louise has brought Rafa in from the field. He scarcely gives me a second glance. I slip back into the house and head for the kitchen to thank her because, even though I told her not to worry about it, she’s cleared the droppings from the paddock.

  Hearing voices, I hesitate at the door. I can see Mel at the table. I guess that Louise is at the Aga.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with our son. You treat him like he’s “special” so he behaves like he’s “special”.’ Mel makes speech marks with his fingers, two on each hand.

  ‘You know very well—’

  ‘Shut up, Lou. You don’t have to lecture me.’

  ‘All Robbie’s saying is that Ash could benefit from therapy. Please, Mel. You saw him last night. This could make all the difference.’

  ‘I’ve told you before. It’s no use chasing rainbows.’

  ‘Now you’re admitting that there’s something not right. You’re contradicting yourself again. Let me take him for one session and then we’ll see.’

  ‘The answer is no. It won’t make any bloody difference.’

  Not for the first time, I think how insensitive Louise’s husband is. He’s definitely not a type H person. He doesn’t love horses, and I’m not sure what he thinks of his son.

  ‘There was a time when you’d do anything for me,’ Louise says flatly. ‘I’m going to take him anyway.’

  ‘Oh, do what you want. You always do.’ Mel stands up and scrapes the chair across the tiles with an ear-splitting sound like chalk being dragged across a board. He grabs his sticks and pushes past me without saying a word.

  ‘I’m sorry about that.’ Louise looks up from a frying pan filled with mushrooms.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I ask.

  She nods.

  ‘Thanks for poo-picking,’ I go on, changing the subject.

  ‘I enjoyed it.’ She smiles weakly. ‘It’s therapeutic. If you ever want me to look after your horse again, just let me know.’

  ‘One of my friends has invited me to a housewarming party one weekend, so I’ll bear that in mind, as long as you’re sure.’

  ‘Of course I’m sure. You’re welcome.’

  I spend the rest of Sunday in a daze. It’s drizzling and grey, but I ride Rafa down to the river, where I let him splash around in the shallows while I watch a family of fluffy brown ducklings swimming frantically, trying to keep with their mother. Pictures of Robbie keep flicking through my mind like a slide-show: Robbie in his flowing shirt, leading my horse along the lane; Robbie in his wet shirt and jodhs, water dripping from his hair and down his face after our swim in the river; Robbie in close-up, his mouth on mine and his eyes half closed as we kiss under the duvet in his bedroom. I think about schooling my horse on the way home, but it’s no use. I can’t concentrate on anything. My attention span is now officially shorter than Rafa’s.

  I text Robbie, just to say hi and let him know that I’m thinking of him. He texts back to say that he’ll call later. He sends a smiley face and two kisses.

  After dinner with Mel, Ashley and Louise, who is also dealing with the unexpected arrival of a couple of B&B guests, I decide to practise making shoes in the home forge.

  ‘I can give you some tips,’ Mel offers as I leave the table.

  ‘No, thanks, I’ll be fine,’ I say quickly. The last thing I want is my boss watching me.

  ‘What are you going to tackle first?’

  ‘Just an ordinary concave shoe with quarter clips.’

  ‘Let me know how it goes. I want to be sure that we’re ready to show the competition what we’re made of.’

  ‘Is it really that serious?’

  Mel looks me straight in the eye. ‘Deadly,’ he says.

  No pressure then, I think as I head outside to find the key under the stone trough to unlock the forge. I put some music on my phone and get started. I work with a bar of steel, heating and hammering it into shape while waiting impatiently for Robbie’s call.

  Twenty minutes later, my phone rings. I put down my hammer and tongs and the shoe I’ve made, and sip some water as I move away from the fiery heat of the furnace, the mobile to my ear. It’s Robbie.

  ‘I’m sorry, Flick. I can’t make it tonight or tomorrow because I’m snowed under with last-minute preparations for the show and working with the mare, and I’ve just found out that Maisie has parents’ evening. I know it’s a long time, but how about next Sunday for a picnic? My daughter will be with her other grandparents, Nanny Dee and Granddad.’

  ‘That sounds great. I’d like that.’

  ‘There’s nothing I’d like more than to be holding you in my arms right now,’ he adds softly, making the butterflies dance in my stomach.

  ‘Have a good evening.’

  ‘And you. See you later.’ I gaze at my mobile for a while after the call has ended. A picnic, just the two of us, no Maisie. It sounds like a date. I smile. It is a date. I suppress a twinge of anxiety, though. We need to talk about where we are going. It was supposed to be a casual fling, but I’m struggling to contain my emotions. I’m looking forward to the show and Sunday night far too much, and I’m worried that I’m getting in too deep, because even if it finished right now, it’s too late. I’d be absolutely gutted.

  I know it’s mad to feel like this. I thought I could handle a light-hearted fling. Other people do. Sarah had many brief encounters before she met the man who became her husband.

  I wonder if I should back off now, make my excuses and run for the hills.

  I put my mobile down on the windowsill and return to the anvil. I pick up the shoe I’ve made and examine it. There’s something not quite right about it and I don’t know how to fix it. Dissatisfied, I return it to the furnace until the metal is glowing when I remove it, and drop it over the pointed end of the anvil. I hit it repeatedly with the hammer, getting into my rhythm, flattening out the imperfections and changing the curve at the toe. It’s better, I think, dropping it into cold water, but it isn’t one of my best efforts.

  I close up the forge and return to the cottage. When I go to bed, I can’t sleep for thinking about Robbie and the night before. Although I’m expecting to feel exhausted the next morning, just now I’m full of energy and raring to go.

  Louise and I chat over breakfast on Monday.

  ‘Mel’s sleeping, so all is well,’ she says. ‘What are you up to today?’

  ‘I have four horses to shoe somewhere north of Talyford. It’s an eventing yard. The Dysons.’

  ‘Oh yes. They’re all right.’ Louise smiles. ‘They called to check you out. It’s all right. Mel said you were okay.’

  Okay? Is that all, I wonder?

  ‘I’m going to the Fox-Giffords’ after that,’ I continue. ‘One of their horses has lost a shoe.’

  ‘You’ll meet Sophia then. She must be in her seventies now. She’s horse mad and comes across as a bit odd to me, to be honest. She married into the Fox-Gifford family; they own most of the land around Talyton St George.’ She smiles again. ‘More than the Saltertons. Mel’s been their farrier for years.

  ‘Her son Alex owns Talyton Manor vets and his wife is one of the partners
at Otter House, the small-animal practice in town. Old Fox-Gifford, Sophia’s husband, is no more, which is no loss to some of us. Local legend has it that Sophia gave birth to her son while she was out hunting. I’m not sure if it’s true, but Alex could ride before he could walk.’

  ‘Thanks for the info. How about you? What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m taking Ashley for a therapy session with Robbie and Paddington after school. I know I shouldn’t get too excited, but he seems to have a special bond with that pony. It’s my dream to see Ashley able to join in at school. He’ll never be top of the class or live completely independently, but there’s a glimmer of hope that he’ll be able to lead a fulfilling and happy life.’

  I think back to my parents. All they wanted for me was to lead a life that fulfilled their ambitions and brought them happiness.

  ‘Ashley’s very lucky to have you fighting his corner.’

  ‘Why don’t you come and see us if you finish work in time? The session’s booked for four.’

  ‘I don’t know. I expect Robbie would prefer peace and quiet.’

  ‘He won’t mind. Go on.’

  ‘I’ll see,’ I say, thinking that I’d love a chance to catch up with him today. I fetch my work boots and some change that I find at the bottom of a handbag, and head out to the truck.

  Shoeing the eventers is miraculously uneventful and I carry on to the Fox-Giffords’ afterwards. From what Louise has said, I’m expecting to come across a place like the Saltertons’, but when I get to Talyton Manor, I find a grand old house that looks decidedly shabby. There are tiles missing from the roof; the white render is cracked and pieces have fallen away. The yard is in a better state. There’s a barn conversion to one side with long windows and hanging baskets outside, and a row of stables with steps up to a hayloft. Opposite the barn is a horsebox in purple livery, a four-by-four, and an ancient Bentley.

  As I park in front of the first stable, a pack of seven or eight dogs – Labradors, springer spaniels and maybe some springadors – come flying out of the house. They swirl around the truck. A liver-and-white spaniel jumps up and rests its front paws against the driver’s door. I toot the horn and a woman emerges from the house, waving and yelling at the dogs, who turn tail and trot away.

  Slightly unnerved, I get out of the truck.

  ‘Don’t worry. They’re perfectly harmless.’ I’m assuming from Louise’s description that the woman is Sophia. She’s tall and elegant in breeches, leather boots, a pale blue shirt and tweed waistcoat. Her silver hair is stiff with hairspray and her face lined with fine wrinkles. ‘It’s Hero who’s lost his shoe. He moves close behind and sometimes treads on a shoe, pulling it orf.’

  She slips a head-collar on to the horse standing in one of the stables and leads him out.

  ‘He’s a lovely-looking creature,’ I say.

  ‘His conformation leaves a little to be desired.’ Sophia ties him up. ‘He has sickle hocks and a jumper’s bump, but he’s brave and bold, and has a magnificent jump on him. He’s by one of the top stallions and out of our own mare.’

  I move up and stroke Hero’s shoulder. He seems chilled. I pick up his foot, the one without a shoe. He’s chipped the toe, but the nails have come out cleanly without causing any real damage. The old shoe is worn and twisted. I grab the anvil and tools from the back of the truck and fit a replacement. Sophia brings tea. It’s cold and milky, in a grimy mug with cracks and a horsey motif. I rest it on the shelf beside the forge, amongst the iron filings and general crud.

  ‘I think it’s admirable that you’ve become a farrier,’ Sophia says as I rasp around the hoof, making sure the clenches are smooth. ‘It would be absolutely marvellous if you could come along for a day with the Pony Club to encourage the girls to think about farriery as a profession. So many of them want to be vets. And, while you’re here, you can test them for their farriery badges.’

  I hesitate, unsure what excuse to make, but it seems that it’s too late and Sophia has interpreted my dithering as agreement.

  ‘Thank you so much. I’m very grateful. You’ve taken a great weight orf my mind, stepping in for Mel. We’re having a half-term rally in the middle of May and the Salterton boys are going to give a trick-riding demonstration.’ She smiles ruefully as I’m thinking: It will be okay, because Robbie is going to be there. ‘It makes me slightly nervous, having them galloping around without tack when I’m promoting health and safety around horses. You’re welcome to stay for the whole day – we’ll keep you fed and watered.’ She gives me a date a month away. ‘I’ll be in touch nearer the time.’ She pays me in cash, and I leave her sweeping the yard, surrounded by dogs.

  I wonder what I’ve let myself in for.

  I check the time. It’s three thirty, so I have plenty of time to pick up some apples from the greengrocer’s in town – for me and Rafa to share – and to drop by at the Saltertons’ for four.

  When I get there, Robbie, Paddington and Ashley are already in the arena. Maisie is sitting on the fence, perched on the top rail with her legs swinging as Louise stands close by to catch her in case she should fall.

  ‘Hi, Flick,’ Louise says over her shoulder. ‘You made it.’

  ‘Don’t tell Mel. He’ll say I’m not working hard enough,’ I say, smiling. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘They’ve just started.’ She nods towards the chestnut pony whose coat gleams in the sunshine.

  Ashley, dressed in a riding hat, blue sweatshirt and blue trousers, is brushing Paddington’s mane, but my attention is drawn to the object of my affection, who is holding the pony by a rope, stroking his forelock and talking quietly so we can’t hear him. He’s wearing a black T-shirt, jeans and short brown boots, and the sight of his broad shoulders and muscular chest reminds me of how much I want to curl up in his arms again.

  ‘Maisie, sit still,’ Louise says. ‘We don’t want you falling off.’

  I rest one foot on the lower railing and lean against the fence to watch while absorbing the warmth of the afternoon.

  Ashley hands the brush back to Robbie, who tucks it in his back pocket before asking him a question. Ashley shades his eyes and nods slowly. Robbie leads Paddington to the corner of the arena and stands him beside the mounting block.

  ‘Oh-mi-God, he’s going to get on,’ Louise exclaims softly, placing her hand over her mouth.

  ‘He’s going to ride bareback,’ Maisie says.

  ‘I never thought he’d be brave enough to give it a go,’ Louise says as her son climbs up the steps and stands on top of the block. ‘I’m too scared to watch.’

  ‘He’ll be all right,’ Maisie sings out.

  Ashley leans on to Paddington’s back and swings his leg over the top. He sits up slowly with his fingers entwined with the pony’s mane. Paddington is completely unconcerned when Robbie asks him to move forwards. Ashley frowns. His body stiffens.

  ‘He wants to get off,’ Louise says quickly.

  ‘No, look,’ Maisie says as the pony takes another step, and another, following Robbie around the arena.

  Ashley starts to relax, his legs hanging down against the pony’s sides. He lets go with his hands and holds them up high in a gesture of triumph and wonder. Robbie lets out the rope so that Ashley is riding a large circle around him. Paddington walks round with his head lowered.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ Louise says.

  ‘It appears that the other evening at the barbecue was just the beginning,’ I say, a lump forming in my throat.

  A few circles later, Robbie decides that pony and rider have had enough and leads them back to the gate. Maisie flings herself off the fence. She lands on her knees and bursts into tears, more from the shock than any pain, as it turns out; she’s soon up again, bossing Ashley and Paddington around.

  ‘Stand,’ she says to the pony. ‘Now you can get off, Ashley.’

  ‘Leave this to me,’ Robbie says, helping him to dismount and handing him the rope. Maisie opens the gate and Ashley leads the pony out across the ya
rd, with Maisie trotting alongside, telling him how to hold the rope and what to say to Paddington. The pony knows perfectly well where he’s going – straight off to his stable where there’s a hay-net waiting.

  ‘He’s a natural,’ Robbie says. ‘He has perfect balance.’

  ‘There’s no way I’m letting you teach him any tricks just yet, so don’t even think about it,’ Louise says. ‘I’d better get Ash home so I can cook dinner for the guests. They’ve ordered fish and chips – home-cooked, of course.’

  Ashley is reluctant to leave the pony and give up his hat, but Robbie promises he can come back soon, and he relents and leaves with his mum. Maisie runs across the yard to hold on to the dogs by their collars while Louise drives away, leaving Robbie and me outside Paddington’s stable.

  ‘It doesn’t always work out like that,’ he says. ‘Ashley’s making rapid progress, thanks to our new therapy pony. I reckon he could turn his hoof to almost anything.’

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me dropping by. Louise suggested it.’

  ‘No, that’s fine.’ He lowers his gaze slightly, giving himself an air of endearing shyness. ‘Any excuse to see you.’

  We stand looking at each other. I can feel the heat spreading across my face as I read the intensity of the desire in his eyes. Suddenly, he shuts it off, just like that.

  ‘I wish I could spend some time with you this evening, but I have to get on. I’m sorry. Maisie …’

  Maisie again, I think, my heart sinking. I wish he was free to drop round for coffee, or to invite me over to Cherry Tree Cottage later, but he doesn’t ask and I’m not able to suggest it because I know what his answer will be. He can’t leave Maisie home alone, and he isn’t prepared for her to stumble across the two of us in a clinch – and why should he have to explain the nature of our relationship to her when we don’t even know that ourselves, not yet anyway?

  Just as I’m wondering if we’ll ever have the opportunity to find out, or if he even wants to, he ducks towards me and kisses me on the cheek.