‘Rosa, keep your opinions to yourself,’ I hear my father say in the background.
‘Robbie’s an expert in horses as therapy, using the healing power of horses to help people with learning difficulties.’
‘So he’s almost medical then.’ My mother sounds more cheerful.
‘He’s a stunt rider too. He works in TV and film,’ I go on.
‘Wow.’ For once, she’s impressed. ‘Who knows who he might introduce you to? That Johnny Depp is rather gorgeous.’
‘Mum, he’s far too old,’ I groan. ‘Anyway, Robbie has just been forced to retire his lead horse through lameness and he’s looking for another one. We went to see a couple today, but they aren’t suitable and there isn’t much around. I wondered if you had any contacts who have horses for sale – something like Rafa.’
There’s some muttering as my parents confer before my father comes back on the line.
‘Let me have a think and come back to you on that one. I’ll do some ringing around,’ he says.
I thank him and cut the call before returning inside to find Robbie, who’s almost asleep on the sofa with Badger sprawled across his body.
‘How did it go?’ he says, opening one eye.
‘Much better than I expected. Dad’s going to call some of his contacts and let me know the outcome.’ I perch on the arm of the sofa and reach down to stroke his hair. ‘I think we’ve come to an understanding.’
‘Better late than never,’ he murmurs.
I smile in agreement. My father is getting old and we shouldn’t waste any more time on past differences of opinion. Life is short.
Over the next week, we see several more horses, but they are too old, too crippled, too big or too small to fit into the team. The one we like best is built like a drum horse and no good for tricks. My father gets back to me with a promising contact, but the two horses available are too young. Robbie keeps them in mind, but our horse-hunting comes to a stop.
Robbie arranges for Sally Ann to babysit one evening so we can spend a couple of hours at the Talymill Inn. We sit at the table beside the water wheel, watching it turn. I look up.
‘Robbie, I’ve been thinking about the offer you made for Rafa. Is it still on the table?’
He gazes at me, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
‘Have you changed your mind?’
I nod. ‘I’ve hardly ridden him recently.’
‘Flick,’ he says in a low voice. ‘You don’t have to do this. I know how much he means to you.’
‘I can see how much it would mean to you to have a new lead horse, and I know he won’t be ready for the next show, but he could be for the filming in the spring, if you get the contract.’ My voice breaks. ‘It would be better for him to have a settled home where he can work and fulfil his potential. I wouldn’t let him go to just anyone. I know you’d look after him.’
‘I would, I promise. You can see him, ride him, whenever you like. I’ll pay you what I think is a fair price.’ He mentions a sum.
‘That’s very generous. Too generous. You aren’t offering over the odds?’
‘Definitely not.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘He’s worth it. He’s a fantastic horse.’
‘It doesn’t feel right talking about Rafa in terms of money.’
Robbie reaches across the table and rests his hand on mine.
‘That’s why I don’t want you to rush into a decision. Take your time.’
Waiting won’t make any difference, I think. I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. I need the money to get myself out of the financial abyss I’ve ended up in.
‘Will you have Matt out to vet him?’ I ask. ‘I have nothing to hide. He’s never been anything except one hundred per cent sound.’
‘I will do, if you agree to sell him to me. It’s nothing personal. It’s just after what I’ve been through with Nelson, I don’t want to find out that he can’t cope with what I’m asking of him a few months down the line.’
‘It will be a bit of a shock to him at first. His life’s been one long holiday so far.’
‘It’s good that he’s low mileage.’
‘Let’s drink to it.’ I hold up my glass, a half-pint.
‘You mean …?’
‘Yes, he’s yours, subject to a clean bill of health.’
‘I don’t know how to thank you.’ Robbie touches his glass to mine. I pour the remaining beer down my throat. ‘Let me get you another one of those.’
‘I’ll have a pint this time, seeing as you’re buying.’ I force a smile. I’ve done it. I’ve as good as sold my best friend. How can anyone do that?
The pint goes down quickly, followed by another as I drown my sorrows and try to get used to the new normal. I am no longer part of that exclusive club of horse owners. I will no longer have to worry about where I’m going to buy the next bale of hay, find the money for the vet bills, or watch the weather at least twice a day to decide which rug Rafa needs. He will be Robbie’s responsibility.
‘I’m feeling a little under the influence.’ I gaze at him across the table. ‘Would you mind taking me home – I mean back to Cherry Tree Cottage – now?’
‘Not at all.’ He stands up, moves round and picks up my jacket from the back of my chair. He supports me as I get to my feet, then places it around my shoulders. He holds my hand on the way out to the car park and drives me back to Furzeworthy, where there are bats swooping across the sky and silhouetted against the vast orb of the full moon.
‘Hey, Sleeping Beauty, we’re here.’ Robbie’s voice nudges into my consciousness.
He helps me out of the Land Rover, puts his arm around my back and guides me to the door, takes off my shoes and helps me up to bed, his bed.
‘What about Maisie?’ I stammer.
‘Don’t worry about her. She’s asleep – Mum’s been babysitting.’ Slowly, he undresses me and puts me to bed, pulling the duvet up over my breasts. ‘I’ll get you some water.’
‘I’m all right.’ My voice sounds distant, as if the words are coming out of a disembodied mouth on the far side of the room. I touch my forehead. ‘I’m going to regret this tomorrow.’
‘You aren’t going to change your mind about selling Rafa?’
‘No, I’m talking about the beer. I shouldn’t have had that last pint.’ I feel wretched. Robbie fetches a glass of water, a packet of plain biscuits and black coffee, but the only thing I want is to feel his arms around me as we lie skin-to-skin in his bed. I want to be enveloped in his warmth and scent. I want to forget what I’ve done, but I can’t. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so guilty and sad. I’ve sacrificed a lot for my career, but I never imagined I’d have to give up my beautiful horse.
Chapter Nineteen
The Wrong End of the Stick
Over the next few days in June, Matt vets Rafa and passes him as sound in wind and limb. Robbie transfers the money to my account. I borrow the Land Rover to take Rafa’s passport with the change-of-ownership details to post in Talyton St George on the morning of the auction. I drop Maisie at school at the same time.
‘Daddy always buys me sweets on the way,’ she says earnestly. She sits on her booster seat beside me, with her book bag on her knees and satchel on the floor.
‘I don’t think so.’ I can’t help grinning. ‘You are so cheeky.’
‘If you don’t ask, you don’t get,’ she says as I pull in around the corner from the Talyton Primary. I let Maisie out and walk to the school gates with her clutching my hand.
‘Hello, Maisie,’ a boy calls from the pavement on the opposite side of the road.
‘Who is that?’ I ask when she waves back.
‘That’s Finn – he’s my boyfriend,’ she says confidently. ‘We aren’t getting married yet because we’re too young.’
‘I should say so.’ We join a queue of children and their parents and carers at the gates. ‘Do I leave you here?’
‘You have to take me to my classroom.’
&n
bsp; ‘Are you sure about that?’ I notice that the older primary school children are in the playground without their parents. It’s the younger ones, whose uniforms seem far too big for them, who are walking up to the classrooms with their significant adults.
She nods. ‘Haven’t you heard of stranger danger?’
‘Yes, but you’re quite safe here.’
‘This way.’ She pulls me towards the covered walkway at the front of the grey stone building, on to which the classrooms open via doors painted yellow. She releases my hand and struggles for a moment to open the door marked ‘Class 3’. I follow her inside.
A young woman looks up from where she’s sitting marking a pile of exercise books at a table beneath the arched windows at the back of the classroom. She’s about twenty-seven, with freckles and flame-coloured hair tied back in a ponytail, and her clothes – an emerald blouse with a blue-and-green scarf, a pair of linen trousers and sandals – are as bright as the artwork on the walls.
‘Hello, Maisie,’ she says. ‘Why aren’t you waiting outside?’
‘Miss Fox, this is Flick. Flick, this is my teacher.’
‘Hi,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry for disturbing you. Maisie said it was okay.’
‘Flick is going to be my mummy.’
‘Oh, that’s lovely news,’ Miss Fox says. She seems rather distracted.
‘That isn’t right,’ I say gently as Maisie looks up at me. Her lip wobbles and a tear wells up and rolls down her cheek. ‘I’m a friend of the Saltertons. I’ve been staying with Maisie’s father – I mean, lodging with Maisie and her dad for a while. Someone’s got the wrong end of the stick.’
‘Never mind.’ Miss Fox stands up and walks over to rest her hands on Maisie’s shoulders. ‘Let’s have a chat about this while we’re getting the exercise books and number lines out ready for Maths today.’ She gazes towards me. ‘I’m afraid this happens quite a lot. Our lovely Maisie is always on the hunt for someone she can call “Mummy”, even though she has a wonderful daddy and devoted grandparents … She’ll be fine,’ she adds for my benefit, because I’m gutted for her.
I understand why Robbie is so protective. He’s right to keep our relationship from her while we’re working things out. As it is, she’s going to be sad when I leave Cherry Tree Cottage, but it would be ten times worse for her if she’d built us up in her imagination into one happy, forever family.
On my way back to the Land Rover, I run into Louise, who is leaving the school at the same time.
‘Long time no see,’ she says. ‘I missed you when I brought Ash for his latest therapy session with Robbie. I thought I’d catch you on the yard.’
Okay, I was hiding, I think, but I don’t fess up.
‘How is he?’ I ask.
‘He’s very well, thank you. Mel took him to play crazy golf the other day – it doesn’t sound like much, but it means everything to me that Mel’s taking an interest in him.’
‘I think you’re a great mum.’
‘You do what you have to do when you’re a parent. Do you want children?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I say slowly, wondering at my change of opinion. What has happened to the woman who used to say, ‘No, never’?
‘Your mind will turn to babies once you have your business up and running.’
‘There’s a lot that has to happen first.’
‘Robbie’s a decent man,’ Louise says, her eyes sparkling with humour. ‘You could do worse than settle down with him.’
‘I do like him very much, but it’s complicated.’
‘So I shouldn’t buy my hat just yet,’ she teases.
‘Ha ha,’ I say wryly. ‘No, seriously, we’re keeping it low-key, partly for Maisie’s sake and partly for ours.’
‘I think it would be a shame if you had to move far from Furzeworthy, but don’t tell Mel I said that. I know we warned you off taking Mel’s clients, but the truth is that he has more than enough work – if you settled here, he could have an easier life, and Ash and I would get to see more of him. Have you got yourself a van yet?’
I shake my head. ‘Robbie and I are going to the local auction house today.’
She wishes me luck and gives me a brief hug, and I’m glad that I didn’t say anything about Mel and Gina because it would have made things between us very awkward.
After lunch, Robbie and I make our way to the local auction house, F. Oak and Sons Auctions, which is based in an industrial unit on a nearby farm.
‘Are you sure about this?’ I say, as we walk across the tarmac towards the building, passing crates of scrap metal that Robbie assures me are engine parts, a rubber dinghy, and a stone nymph that appears to have been modelled on some surgically enhanced celebrity. One of her generous breasts is covered by her stone robe, while someone has stuck a numbered sticker to the other.
There are people – mainly men dressed in fleeces, camouflage jackets, jeans and heavy boots – wandering around looking at the items for sale. Most of the potential buyers appear bewhiskered and dusty, much like the lots on view.
‘How do we know that this van is any good?’ I go on.
We walk on through the building where the auction is already under way. The auctioneer stands on a lectern, holding a gavel tucked into his palm, and speaking so quickly that I can hardly catch what he’s saying. Behind him is a screen with the current lots highlighted. In front is his audience, some seated on benches and chairs, some standing.
‘Sh, otherwise he’ll think you’re bidding,’ Robbie whispers as he catches my hand. ‘I don’t think you want a parachute, although it might come in useful to slow your fall when you next come off Rafa.’
‘Hey, I can see where Maisie gets her cheek from.’
We head on through to the yard, beyond where there is a row of vehicles: two vans, one white, one blue; an ancient grey tractor, a motorbike and a silver saloon car.
‘It’s the blue one,’ Robbie says. ‘The keys are inside. I checked with the guy in the office when you were registering to bid. He says we can run it.’
‘It isn’t the same as a test-drive, is it?’
‘What else do you suggest? The guide price is within your budget. It might go for less, in which case you’ll have bagged yourself a bargain, or it might spiral out of your reach, in which case we’ll have to keep looking.’
‘We?’ I look at him.
‘Of course.’
‘I love the way you talk about us as a team.’
He smiles softly. ‘We are, aren’t we? You sold me your horse, and in return I’ll make sure you find a van.’ He guides me towards it and opens the driver’s door. ‘Jump in.’
I adjust the seat and turn the key in the ignition. It starts first time and runs smoothly, apart from a slight rattle. We check the outside and investigate the back. I’m no expert but it looks sound for its age.
‘It’s exactly what I need,’ I say to Robbie. ‘Oh-mi-God, it sounds so manly getting excited about a van.’
‘You aren’t manly in the slightest.’ He laughs and gives me an affectionate squeeze. ‘I reckon this one will do if you get it for the right price. Gary will service it and make sure it’s safe.’
I’m already picturing the furnace and aluminium fittings in the back, and ‘F. Coleridge, Farrier’ printed along the sides. I’ve placed an order for the fixtures that I need and I’m waiting for them to be delivered to the garage.
‘What time is the auction for these?’
‘Four thirty. There’s plenty of time for a burger and tea first. Louise is having Maisie after school and Dillon is doing the horses with Dad – I could get used to this.’
We sit on plastic chairs outside the refreshment van, with drinks and cheeseburgers with extra onions. The chairs have tatty stickers on them, as if they didn’t sell at previous auctions. Robbie stretches his long legs out in front of him. I rest my feet against his.
‘Thanks for taking Maisie to school this morning. Was she all right?’
‘She tried to tell me tha
t you bought her sweets every day.’ I smile, then grow serious again. ‘She also dragged me into the classroom to meet her teacher, Miss Fox.’
Robbie sighs fondly. ‘I’m not entirely surprised.’
‘She introduced me as her future mummy.’
‘Oh dear.’ He sips at his tea and takes a mouthful of cheeseburger. A string of fried onion dangles from his chin.
‘You have a …’ I say, reaching across to point it out.
‘Thanks,’ he says, flipping it into his mouth. He gazes at me, his eyes twinkling with humour. ‘I can see where she’s coming from – that was quite a mumsy thing to do.’
I’m not sure whether to be offended or flattered. I go with the latter. My cheeseburger remains untouched in the cardboard tray on my lap.
‘I’ll have a word with her. She’s spent much of her life looking for a mum, even though I’ve done my best, with the help of her grandparents, to keep Carla’s memory alive for her. Maisie doesn’t remember her, of course, which makes it much harder.’
‘It’s made me realise why you’re so protective over her,’ I say. ‘She was in tears – I left Miss Fox looking after her.’ I don’t reveal that I wanted to take Maisie straight home and mother her.
‘She’ll be fine. She’s pretty resilient – she’s had to be.’ He changes the subject. ‘When you get a van and Gary’s kitted it out, you’ll be able to shoe our horses. Dennis is desperate for new shoes – one of them is only just hanging on.’
‘Much as I’m enjoying being your groom, I’m looking forward to getting back to what I love most.’ I’ve missed the sounds and smells, the hollow ring of metal against metal and acrid scent of smoking hoof. I’ve missed the sheer physicality of pulling shoes and hammering nails. ‘I can’t wait to get back out there.’
‘Which is good news, because we’ve found someone to work for us. Dad told me this morning that he’d had an approach from a woman who’s relocating from Yorkshire with her fiancé. He’s got a job with Stevie as their marketing manager at Nettlebed Farm, while she’s looking for yard work. She’s very experienced – she’s been working with racehorses for the past two years, so we’re hopeful that she’ll cope with us.’
Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage Page 29
