‘I’m sure she will – I did.’ I’m smiling, but in my heart I’m confused at my reaction to his revelation. It makes the fact that I’m moving on soon all the more real. When the new groom arrives, the Saltertons won’t need me any more. It won’t be long before I have to move out of Cherry Tree Cottage and throw all my energies into setting up my business. ‘When does she start?’ I ask.
‘A week on Monday. Mum’s booked the builders to come in and redecorate the flat.’
‘Good. That’s great.’ I pick at the cheese in my burger – it’s cold and congealed.
‘You’ll be able to stay on,’ Robbie says. ‘Flick, this is all working out. You get your van and set up your business here, starting with our horses. You’ll soon pick up clients. Remember what Matt said about people asking for you. It’s perfect.’
‘I’m not convinced that I can find enough work in this area though.’ When Louise said that there were plenty of potential clients, I don’t think she meant there were enough to provide a living for two full-time farriers. ‘I need to be out there earning.’
‘But you won’t have so many outgoings now that you’ve let Rafa go.’
‘I know,’ I say, as another wave of sadness hits me. ‘Here, have this – I don’t want it.’ I hand him the cheeseburger.
‘I shouldn’t,’ he says, but he does. He eats it in three mouthfuls. ‘You can stay at the cottage. I’m more than happy to support you while you’re building up your round.’
‘No, absolutely not,’ I say quickly.
‘I thought we were friends.’ He leans closer and rests his hand on mine.
‘We are, and I don’t want to be beholden to you, to anyone.’
‘This is because of your ex, isn’t it? I completely understand why you want to keep your independence, but I’m not asking you to give it up. Why can’t you see that I’m offering you help so that you can stand on your own two feet in the future? Okay, I have an ulterior motive, I’ll admit that. I’m falling in love with you, and I can’t bear the thought that you’re going away and I’ll never see you again.’ He takes a breath before plunging on. ‘We could have a wonderful life here with Maisie and the horses, if you’d give it a chance. All you have to do is agree to stay and we can carry on as we are.’
‘As we are,’ I echo. ‘Well, it wouldn’t be, would it? I’d be a kept woman—’
‘For a while,’ Robbie says. There’s a small smile on his lips, as if he thinks I’m joking about it.
‘And we’d still be creeping around behind Maisie’s back?’
‘Until we’re certain that we’re going to stay together. Until we’re sure that you aren’t going to disappear off to the outer reaches of the universe to shoe horses.’
I sit back. He’s done it again. If this really could be love, he wouldn’t keep doing this, hinting at commitment, then backing off. I look at him, really look at him, and I’m torn between love and despair. I adore this man, yet – apart from the practical obstacles – there is this one element of his character that keeps coming between us and the happy-ever-after: his fear of upsetting Maisie.
‘So, what are we going to do?’ he asks me. The muscle in his cheek tightens as he awaits my answer. His expression is gentle and supplicating, reminding me that he’s also a good man – generous, kind, fit, gorgeous … I could go on.
‘We’ll carry on as we are for now,’ I say.
‘Thank you,’ he breathes. He leans across and kisses my cheek. ‘You won’t regret it.’
We sit quietly for a while before going to wait near the vehicles for the auctioneer to get started. Two of his minions bring his lectern. Dressed in a cream linen suit, tie and white shirt, and shiny brown loafers, he takes the stand. He adjusts his half-moon spectacles, and peers over the top of them into the gaggle of people who have assembled to watch the sale.
The white van goes for a couple of thousand pounds, then the auctioneer runs briefly through the details of the blue one. My pulse starts to flutter and I can feel my fingers crushing the rolled-up catalogue that I carry in my hand.
‘Who would like to start me at fifteen hundred?’
No one, it seems.
‘One thousand. Come on, ladies and gentlemen, this is worth at least double the price.’
Robbie gives me a nudge. I hold up my hand.
‘One thousand, thank you,’ the auctioneer says. ‘Eleven hundred, new bidder.’
My heart feels as if it’s about to jump out of my chest and into my throat as the price steadily rises. The second bidder drops out but, just as I begin to dare think that the van is mine, a third bidder leaps in, pushing the price up to match my limit. I hesitate, glancing towards Robbie.
One of the rules of auctions is to set a budget and stick to it, but I’m within touching distance. Another one hundred pounds and the object of my desire could be mine. The auctioneer looks in my direction. He raises one eyebrow. I nod and he registers my bid. My opponent goes in with another. I beat it and then that’s it. I have to stop. If I bid any higher, I’ll never be able to afford to have the van kitted out.
I’m trembling as the auctioneer turns to my opponent.
‘Any advance?’ He names the figure. ‘Going, going –’ the gavel comes down – ‘gone.’
‘It’s yours.’ Robbie elbows me in the ribs.
It takes a moment for it to sink in. I turn and throw my arms around his neck. ‘We got it!’
‘Well done,’ he says. ‘You held your nerve.’
‘Now what? I’ve never been to an auction before.’
‘You have to go to the office to pay, get it taxed, and call your insurance company so you can drive it away.’
We don’t get very far. I take the key out of the ignition and put it back in – it snaps in half.
‘Don’t ask me why I did that,’ I groan.
‘I’ll call Gary and ask him to pick it up tomorrow.’ I sit in the driver’s seat while Robbie’s on the phone, arranging for his mechanic friend to kit out the van within a week. My mobile rings at the same time as I fish out a pound coin from a small tear in the upholstery. It isn’t a number that I recognise.
‘Hello, is that Flick?’
‘Yes …?’ I say.
‘This is a little embarrassing. I hope you don’t mind me getting in touch with you. Mel gave me your number.’ There’s a pause. ‘It’s Gina.’
‘I don’t think I have anything to say to you.’
‘Please hear me out. I’m sorry for being a bitch. I shouldn’t have said those things about you. Mel has pointed out the error of my ways.’
‘Has he, indeed?’ The skin on the back of my neck prickles with antagonism.
‘He reminded me of all the times he’s had to come and put one of Rambo’s shoes back on again. Anyway, I was wondering if you’d be able to look after my horse’s feet from now on.’
‘I don’t know. I’m not sure that I can.’
‘Please, Flick. I’m not seeing Mel any more,’ she says, which makes the decision a little easier for me.
‘I’m having my mobile forge kitted out at the moment, so I could drop by sometime next week.’
‘Thank you. That’s perfect. I’ll let my friends know that you’re back on the road.’
‘There is one thing,’ I point out, not making any effort to keep the humour out of my voice. ‘You’ll have to pay in cash on the day.’
‘I’ve learned my lesson,’ she says, sounding contrite. ‘I’ll see you soon.’
‘Who was that?’ Robbie asks when I come off the phone.
‘My second client,’ I say, grinning. ‘Let’s go back to the cottage and celebrate.’
However, when we get back, Dillon is behind schedule, and the horses are kicking at their stable doors, demanding their evening feeds. Robbie goes to speak to his father, who’s putting the quad bike away in the barn. I head for the feed room, where I line up the black rubber bowls, and scrutinise the list of horses and their requirements on the white board that’s on the
wall above the row of metal bins.
It’s complicated. Each horse has a different dinner containing various mixtures of proprietary foods, chaff and supplements, such as biotin for good feet or garlic for the blood. I put herbs to calm the difficult mare in Diva’s feed, and a sachet of bute in Nelson’s. I pour water from a scoop to soak all the feeds, and stir them before I load them on to the hand trolley and haul it outside.
‘So you’re the trolley dolly tonight,’ Neil says, joining me to help.
I give him a frown as we stop beside Diva’s stable. ‘Less of the dolly, thank you.’
‘You are a hard woman, Flick.’
‘Someone has to keep you in order.’ I smile fondly as I post Diva’s feed through the door. I’m getting used to his ways. ‘I would describe you as a dinosaur, but that would be ageist.’
‘Thanks for selling Rafa to Robbie. It’s got him and Dillon out of a bit of a spot, having a second horse to work on before next spring. I hear you bought a van at the auction. I didn’t bother to go in the end.’
‘I expect Robbie has told you that I broke the key in the ignition before we could bring it home.’ Home? There, I’ve said it a second time, and I’m sober on this occasion. ‘Gary’s going to sort it out tomorrow. He’ll fit the forge and storage cabinets at the garage in Talyton St George. I’m really excited about it.’
‘I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. I expect you’ll be making plans?’
‘I guess so.’ I take the rusting handle of the trolley and pull it further along the yard. When I’m here with the horses, I don’t want to talk about moving on.
I collect the empty bowls later, pausing to speak to Rafa on the way. He nuzzles through my hair as he always does, but something between us has shifted, or is it my imagination? Does he know that I’ve sold him, that I’ve exchanged him for a van? Does he realise that we’re no longer exclusive?
I try to look on the bright side. He’ll forge bonds with other horses in a permanent home, and fulfil his potential with someone who has both time and expertise. I trust Robbie to care for him, although he’ll never be able to love him as fiercely as I do. I blink back a tear as I stroke his face. He’s my once-in-a-lifetime horse. I’ll never have another one like him.
Chapter Twenty
One-Trick Pony
Gary works to Devon time, so the van isn’t ready until the following Friday, when he delivers it to the cottage, kitted out, washed and waxed. I forgive him for the delay because he’s done a great job. The rust spots have gone, the engine purrs, and I have not one but two new keys. I load it with my order of shoes and nails, which arrived earlier in the week, and drive it straight round to the yard to show it off.
‘Hi,’ Robbie says, walking over with Dillon and the dogs to where I’ve parked near Dennis’s stable.
I jump out and open up the back.
‘It was worth waiting for,’ Dillon observes.
‘I’m going to christen it now. Is Dennis ready for his new shoes?’
‘He’s in, and more than ready. I need him shod for the show tomorrow,’ Robbie says. ‘As you can see, I’ve put your trolley and anvil outside his stable ready for you.’ He leads Dennis out and ties him up.
I’m back where I belong, I think, smiling as I give him a pat and pick up his foot. I raise the clenches and remove the old shoe – he’s pretty well worn it out.
Later, I test the furnace, placing new shoes into its glowing interior. It works perfectly, softening the metal so I can shape the shoes over the anvil to fit Dennis’s feet. When I give his hooves one final rasp, I straighten up and look around for someone with whom I can share my joy and triumph, but it isn’t the same as when I first shod the Saltertons’ horses. No one is watching. I realise that they’re busy getting ready for the show tomorrow, but there was a time not so long ago when they would have dropped everything. I am no longer a curiosity.
I put my tools away and give the back of the van a quick clean.
‘How did it go?’
I turn to find Robbie behind me.
‘Well, thanks.’ I lean up to receive his kiss. ‘I’m off to shoe Rambo next.’
‘It’s all go then.’
‘Not really. Are you managing without me?’
‘Dillon and I have everything under control. There’s no need to feel guilty because you’ve abandoned us today of all days. You carry on with what you’re doing.’
‘I’m not sure what I’ll do this afternoon. Polish the van, maybe? Sharpen my knives? Help you out?’
‘Don’t despair. Word will soon spread and your phone won’t stop ringing. Nothing’s impossible – remember that.’ He pulls a wad of cash from his pocket and tries to hand it to me.
‘What’s that?’
‘Your first earnings.’ He grins. ‘I hope you’ve registered for tax.’
‘No, I mean, I can’t take it. I owe you far more in board and lodging.’
‘Don’t be silly. Take it,’ he insists, but I can’t. The more he tries to persuade me to accept it, the more stubbornly I refuse. ‘Okay,’ he says eventually, and he walks past the van, dropping the money through the open window on to the driver’s seat. ‘Sometimes, Flick, you can be very annoying.’
I bite my tongue, hurt that he refuses to respect my feelings on the matter. As I’ve said before, I will not be dependent on anyone.
As I drive away, I stuff the notes into the glove box where they’re out of sight and out of mind, but I’m still smarting when I arrive at Nethercott Farm. I relax a little when I see the goat waiting at the gate.
Gina lets me through.
‘Nice truck,’ she says, greeting me. ‘Would you like a coffee? Cappuccino or latte?’
‘A latte, please.’ I’m going up in the world, I think, when she brings me a mug of proper coffee while I’m shoeing Rambo.
‘I’m sorry about what happened,’ she begins as she leans against the stable door and scratches the goat’s back. The goat nibbles at a loose thread on her ripped designer jeans.
‘Forget about it. I have.’
‘My friend – I think you might have seen her when we were at the pub. Anyway, she has a horse called Maverick and she’s asked me to find out if you’ll be her farrier. He’ll need shoeing in the next couple of weeks, if that’s okay.’
‘Yes, I can do it.’ I’m not sure Mel will be too happy about it, but that’s his problem. I don’t feel as though I owe him anything.
‘I’ll get her to give you a call. It will put her mind at rest knowing she has someone she can trust.’
I refrain from mentioning that I’m not sure how long I’ll be available for. I feel as if I’m walking on a knife edge. Will I stay or go?
Gina pays me in cash and I return to the van. I drive back towards Furzeworthy, stopping in Talyton St George to buy dinner for tonight. I check my phone several times. Robbie has sent a text.
I’m sorry about earlier. Come back to the yard when you’re free. We’ll teach Rafa a trick, or two xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sarah has left a voicemail about catching up sometime soon. Baby Isla is well – she’s putting on weight.
There are no other messages, nothing from Gina’s friend. I know it’s early days and I’m expecting too much because I’ve only just left Nethercott Farm, but I’m still disappointed. I need to go out and look for more work.
I meet Robbie back at the yard, thinking that spending time with him and Rafa will take my mind off my problems.
‘I’m going to play with your horse, I mean, my horse. Oh, what am I saying? Our horse. If you stay, he’ll be ours. I’m happy to share,’ Robbie says.
‘What are you planning to do with him today?’ I’m slightly apprehensive. What if he’s being overoptimistic? What if Rafa doesn’t live up to his expectations?
‘I’m going to teach him to lie down.’
‘That’ll be interesting. How on earth are you going to persuade him to do that?’
‘Watch and learn,’ he says. ‘I’ve cut of
f a corner of the arena to create a small area to work him in.’
We fetch Rafa from the stable and take him out on a head-collar. Robbie leads him to the arena and lets him off in the section he’s penned off. I sit on the fence to watch. Rafa gazes at me as if to say, ‘What’s going on here?’
‘Go on, my boy,’ I murmur. ‘Please be good.’
Robbie makes friends with him, running his hands over Rafa’s muscular body. I smile to myself. As I’ve mentioned before, he’s good with his hands. Rafa looks amazing. His silken mane and tail gleam in the sunlight. His eyes are bright and alert, and his ears pricked forwards. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him looking so well.
Robbie sends him away, using body language to direct him. Rafa trots around the pen before returning to await further instructions. I notice with a pang of regret how he returns to Robbie without a second glance in my direction. Robbie sends him away again. After a couple of circuits, Robbie calls out, ‘Whoah!’ and Rafa comes to a halt. He lowers one ear and grinds his teeth, listening for the next command.
Robbie sends him away again at a canter, making him work on the circle until he’s sweating lightly.
‘That was great,’ I say grudgingly.
‘He’s a fast learner. I could well have him trained up in time for next spring, which will tie in with the filming of the TV series – if it goes ahead.’
‘Tomorrow is decision day, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah.’ He runs one hand through his hair. ‘I’m not usually nervous, but …’ He shrugs. ‘We’ll see. If we don’t get the contract, I’ll be able to look back and say that I did my best. Dillon and I did a dress rehearsal at lunchtime and it went well. Diva behaved like a pro, so I’m hopeful.’ He holds up his hands, crossing his fingers. ‘Let’s hope that no one has stage fright in front of the TV people. You are still okay to hold the fort here for the day?’
‘Of course. I’d love to have come along to watch, but I expect Neil or Sally Ann will video it.’
Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage Page 30
