Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage

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Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage Page 34

by Cathy Woodman


  ‘You’re going to stay on?’

  ‘If you’ll have me.’

  ‘Of course I will.’ A smile lights up his face. ‘Flick, will you pinch me? This feels like a dream.’

  I pinch the spare flesh on the back of his hand.

  ‘Ouch!’ he says.

  ‘Again?’ I ask.

  ‘No, that’s real enough.’ He strokes my fingers. ‘What made you change your mind?’

  ‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’

  ‘What, talking? I’m ready to get back out there with the horses, but they won’t let me.’ He flexes one arm, revealing his bulging muscle under his hospital gown. ‘So, where are we at?’

  ‘It was something you said – two things, actually. You told me I was selfish and it’s true. I’ve been so driven by the idea of achieving my dream of having my own farriery business that I haven’t considered the people around me. I’ve sacrificed my personal life and relationships, and hurt people like my parents, Maisie and you on the way. I need to let you help me and not try to do everything myself …’ My voice trails off. I wonder if he knows how much effort it’s taken for me to acknowledge that I need his support. ‘It isn’t about money,’ I continue. ‘It’s about knowing that you are at my side. When you’re with me, I feel that anything is possible. I’m sorry for what I’ve put you through.’

  ‘You don’t have to apologise. I’m partly responsible. I’ve had time to think while I’ve been lying here in bed and wondering where we were going wrong, and I’ve realised that I have to face up to the fact that I’ve been using Maisie as an excuse not to fully commit to someone, as in you.’

  ‘I did wonder,’ I say. ‘You were scared that I would abandon you, just as your biological mother and Carla did.’

  He nods, his eyes filled with pain. ‘It became a self-fulfilling prophecy.’

  ‘I’m not going to leave. I made my mind up after we argued the other night. I want us to take the next step and commit to each other for the long term, if you’ll have me.’

  I wait, holding my breath for his reply.

  ‘What does “long term” mean?’ he asks tentatively.

  ‘That sounds like another cop-out, doesn’t it? What I’m saying is that I want us to be together for ever, for the rest of our lives.’

  ‘Oh, Flick, darling.’ He sits upright and slides his legs to the side of the bed so he can reach his arms around my shoulders. I lean in close and press my lips to his in a long, lingering kiss.

  Someone clears their throat from the periphery of my consciousness. We turn our heads to find a nurse holding on to the curtain.

  ‘Should I pull this around the bed to give you a bit of privacy?’ she teases. ‘My patient isn’t allowed any excitement – he’s recovering from a head injury.’

  Robbie blushes as he slides back into bed, strategically rearranging the sheet across his middle. I can’t help giggling as the nurse walks away, the soft soles of her shoes squelching across the floor.

  ‘Can I get you anything, do anything for you?’

  ‘Ah, you could, but not here.’ He sinks against the pillows. ‘I’m fine now, Flick. The only thing I need is you.’

  I gaze at him. The feeling is entirely mutual. I can survive perfectly well on my own, but Robbie makes me complete.

  ‘Why don’t I take you for coffee in the canteen?’ I say.

  ‘I’d rather be outside, if that’s possible. I could do with some fresh air.’

  ‘Can you walk?’

  ‘I don’t think they’ll let me walk that far. I’m still having these funny turns.’

  ‘I’ll see if I can find a wheelchair.’

  ‘If you could, that would be great. I just want to get out of here.’

  ‘It won’t be long before they let you out. They need the beds.’ I get up and look for the nurse. It takes a few minutes because she’s busy, but she sets us up with a wheelchair and I push Robbie out of the ward and along the corridor towards the restaurant. As I move him aside to let a trolley pass, the wheelchair bumps against the wall.

  ‘Can you drive this thing?’ Robbie says.

  ‘It isn’t that easy to manoeuvre.’

  ‘I suppose I should be grateful that I’m still in one piece. This is a cheap way to get your thrills.’ He glances down at his fingers, gripped tight around the arms of the wheelchair, and chuckles. ‘It’s a white-knuckle ride.’

  ‘I can make this move a bit faster if you want a bit more excitement.’ I give the chair a good shove and let it roll on ahead of me. He makes to jump out. ‘No,’ I yell at him. ‘No stunts.’

  He’s laughing. I’m laughing.

  ‘You haven’t done a risk assessment,’ I gasp, clutching my stomach with one hand. My muscles are aching. ‘There isn’t much wrong with you.’

  But later, when we’re having coffee and chocolate-and-almond cookies on the balcony outside the day room, he grows pale and quiet.

  ‘It’s time I took you back to bed.’ I can’t stop flirting with him. He’s irresistible.

  ‘Our bed,’ he says, ‘the one in our room at Cherry Tree Cottage. We can buy a new one if you like – it can be a symbol of our fresh start.’

  ‘Take it easy,’ I say. ‘We can make plans when you get home.’

  I take him back to the ward, where I help him settle back on to the hospital bed before saying goodbye.

  ‘I love you,’ I say, reluctant to walk away.

  ‘I love you too,’ he says, reaching out for my arm as if to stop me leaving. ‘I want you by my side. I want to kiss you goodbye in the mornings and hold you in my arms at night for the rest of our lives.’

  I press my lips to his cheek.

  ‘I thought you said you didn’t know how to do romance,’ I say. ‘That is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Another Bite at the Cherry

  Towards the end of the week, Robbie is allowed home on condition that he takes life easy for a few days at least. I bring him back in the Land Rover on the Friday morning, when Maisie has special dispensation to have time off school to welcome him. When I arrived at the hospital, he was up and dressed in a shirt, jeans and jodhpur boots.

  ‘Thanks for coming to rescue me,’ Robbie says as I drive along the lane to Furzeworthy, with his hand on my knee and the aphrodisiac scent of his aftershave filling my nostrils.

  ‘It’s no trouble. I couldn’t wait to have you back. I can’t believe how much I missed you.’

  ‘And to think you were going to walk out on me!’ he exclaims.

  ‘Are you going to hold that against me for ever?’ I say lightly.

  I turn up the drive and head straight to the yard, where Maisie, Sally Ann, Neil, and Daisy, the new groom, and the dogs come rushing over to greet Robbie. Maisie fumbles to open the passenger door to let him out.

  ‘Daddy, Daddy,’ she shouts.

  ‘Hush, Maisie.’ Sally Ann puts her hands over her ears. ‘Keep the noise down – you’ll frighten the horses.’

  Robbie hugs and kisses everyone before looking around.

  ‘Where’s Dillon?’ he says.

  ‘We got it!’ As if on cue, Dillon comes running out of the tack room, waving his mobile in the air. ‘The TV contract!’

  ‘Yeeesss!’ Robbie throws himself at his brother and clings on to him, almost knocking him off balance. Neil and Sally Ann clap and cheer. The horses disappear behind their doors, except for Paddington, who watches with great interest.

  ‘Steady on, bro.’ Dillon catches hold of him by the waist, letting Robbie slide to his feet.

  ‘I thought they’d walk away after the fiasco last Saturday. The sight of your stunt rider being airlifted to hospital partway through a performance isn’t the best way to inspire confidence. What did you say to convince them?’

  ‘I managed to persuade them that it was a one-off. I sent photos and videos of our new lead horse.’

  ‘Rafa? He isn’t ready.’

  ‘F
ilming doesn’t start until next spring. I’ve been working with him for the last few days – he’s going to be as good if not better than Nelson. I also negotiated a better deal, on the basis that they’ll employ both of us.’

  ‘I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t fancy the idea of having to call them to tell them the deal was off because you’d pegged it.’

  ‘That’s an awful thing to say,’ I cut in, but both brothers are laughing.

  ‘What a great result. Dillon, I’m sorry for the arguments we’ve had recently.’

  ‘Perhaps this will prove that you can trust me, and I’m not completely useless.’

  ‘Let’s put this behind us.’ Robbie steps towards him and shakes his hand. ‘We’re equal partners from now on.’

  ‘I know how you feel now, trying to run the team pretty much singlehanded at times.’

  ‘This calls for a celebration,’ Neil announces. ‘I’ll fetch the champagne.’

  ‘It isn’t even eleven o’clock yet,’ Sally Ann says.

  ‘I don’t think there are any rules that restrict bubbly to a particular time of day,’ Neil says.

  ‘I’ll come and get the glasses,’ she says with a smile.

  We have a glass each to celebrate Robbie’s homecoming and Dillon’s achievement in securing the team’s future. I can feel the bubbles popping on my tongue as Neil makes the toasts, and Robbie’s hand on my back as he stands beside me. I notice how Maisie is watching us, her eyebrows raised in an as-yet-unspoken question. I smile at her and she smiles back.

  ‘Do you always have champagne on a Friday morning?’ Daisy jokes as we disperse. Maisie accompanies her grandparents into the big house, and Dillon and Daisy continue with the yard work and exercising the horses, leaving Robbie and me gazing at each other.

  ‘What next?’ I say.

  ‘I’m going to see how Rafa’s doing as he’s going to be our star horse. Are you coming with me?’

  ‘Why not? I haven’t got any more horses to shoe until next week.’ I put a few flyers beside the till in Tack ’n’ Hack when I was at Delphi’s the other day, and I’ve had a couple of enquiries, but nothing concrete yet.

  ‘I didn’t think.’ Robbie breaks his stride as we walk towards Rafa’s stable. ‘You don’t have to – I know it upsets you.’

  ‘It’s fine. I can deal with it now. I spent some time with him while you were in hospital and you’re right – we can share.’

  I watch Robbie getting Rafa ready for Dillon. He bends over, revealing his taut loins, to pick out each of his feet, letting the mud fall into a bucket. Then he picks up a brush and runs it across Rafa’s skin, head to tail in sweeping strokes. The horse stands quietly, enjoying being groomed.

  Robbie picks up the saddle and lays it on Rafa’s back. He smooths out the saddlecloth underneath, drops the girth and lifts the saddle flap to fasten it. When he pulls the girth up to secure it, Rafa flicks his ears back. Robbie gives him a moment to become accustomed to the grip of the girth around his middle before tightening it a little more.

  He drops the reins over Rafa’s head, removes the head-collar, slips the bit into his mouth and the headpiece behind his ears, before fastening the throatlatch and noseband. He picks up a hat from where it’s been left balanced on top of the grooming kit and puts it on his head.

  ‘You aren’t riding?’ I say quickly. ‘You aren’t allowed to—’

  ‘Don’t make a scene,’ he whispers. ‘Please, I’ll go mad if I can’t ride.’

  ‘You’ve had a head injury. You were completely out of it for hours.’

  ‘I’m well aware of that.’ He points to his hat. ‘I’m being careful. All I’m going to do is walk and trot around the arena. You can come with me to make sure I’m safe.’

  ‘I’m not happy about this,’ I say as he fastens the chinstrap, but I realise that there’s nothing I can do to stop him when horses and riding are in his blood.

  Dillon is schooling Diva. He makes no comment about whether or not Robbie should be back in the saddle when he joins him in the arena.

  It seems as though Robbie is making up for lost time. Having ridden and put Rafa away, we walk arm-in-arm to the cottage, the dogs ambling along behind. We pass through the gate where the brambles are beginning to overtake the geraniums in the border and wander up the path between the cherry trees. Robbie stops and plucks a ripe fruit. He turns towards me and pops it into my mouth.

  ‘What do you think?’ he asks.

  ‘It’s delicious,’ I say, spitting out the stone as discreetly as I can and wiping the juice from my chin.

  He leans down and kisses me. ‘I’ve been dreaming of this.’

  I pull away and pick a cherry for him to try.

  ‘That is the sweetest one I’ve ever tasted,’ he says. ‘Everything is better with you.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about what we talked about the other day, about how you want to hold me in your arms every night for the rest of our lives …’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I think we should get married.’

  ‘Making the proposal is supposed to be my role.’ I stare at him. His expression is deadpan, but the longer I stare, the more his mouth twists and his shoulders shake. ‘I’m winding you up. I don’t mean that at all. You’re perfectly entitled to go down on one knee.’

  ‘I’m being serious.’

  ‘I know you are. I’m sorry for being a prat.’

  Standing beneath the boughs of the cherry tree, I take both his hands.

  ‘As we’re going to live together openly from now on, it makes sense to get hitched, as a sign of our commitment to each other, and to Maisie. I’ve appreciated her company over the past few days and I’d be honoured to be her stepmum. I want us to be a family.’

  ‘You don’t have to do this for Maisie,’ he says.

  ‘It isn’t just for her. I’m doing this for you. You’ve told me how you’re afraid of being abandoned and I want to give you some kind of assurance that I’ll do everything in my power not to let that happen to you again. I’m willing to make a formal promise in front of our families and friends to love and respect you for as long as we both shall live.’ I take a breath and gaze into his eyes. ‘Robbie Salterton, will you marry me?’

  My heart starts to pound like a hammer as I wait on tenterhooks for his answer. It seemed like such a good idea at the time, but the more I think about it and the longer he keeps me in suspense, the more off-the-wall my proposal seems. I wouldn’t blame him, or be at all surprised if his response is a no.

  ‘Yes, of course I’ll marry you,’ he says eventually, his voice breaking with emotion.

  It takes a moment for his response to sink in, but when it does, I’m overwhelmed with tears of joy.

  ‘Don’t cry,’ he says, pulling me close and smothering my face with kisses. ‘I love you more than you’ll ever know. I’m going to do everything I can to make you happy.’ Eventually he takes a small step back and rests his hands on my waist. ‘I’m a traditional guy at heart, so I’m going to buy the ring. No argument.’

  ‘I can go along with that.’ I turn towards the cottage, but before we reach the door, the sound of Maisie’s voice holds us back.

  ‘Daddy and Flick, there you are.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Sally Ann says, sounding slightly short of breath as she marches up the path following her granddaughter. ‘She wanted to come and find you.’

  Robbie kneels down in front of Maisie.

  ‘We have some special news for you,’ he says.

  ‘Yay!’ She raises her hand. ‘Flick is having a baby.’

  ‘Whoah there. No, no, no, I’m not pregnant.’ I look towards Robbie. ‘Not yet, anyway.’

  ‘Where did you get that idea from?’ Robbie asks.

  Maisie presses her finger to her lips and looks skywards. ‘I can’t remember.’

  I recall how she asked me if I was getting fat when we were making the fairy-cakes. She must have jumped to the wro
ng conclusion.

  ‘What is it then?’ she says.

  ‘Flick asked me to marry her, and I said yes.’

  ‘Wowzer,’ Maisie says, beaming. ‘Am I going to be a bridesmaid?’

  ‘Of course,’ I say.

  ‘Can my dress be purple?’

  ‘I’m not sure about that.’

  ‘Can Paddington be there? And Badger and Tatt?’ She turns to Sally Ann. ‘And Nanny?’

  ‘Oh, I shall be there. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’ She bursts into tears. ‘I love a good wedding.’

  Robbie stands up, holding his arms out to her. ‘Come here. Let me give you a hug.’

  Sally Ann embraces her stepson and congratulates us both on our engagement before she rushes away back down the path.

  ‘Mum, where are you going?’ Robbie calls.

  She stops briefly. ‘To tell the others and fetch another bottle of champagne. This definitely calls for another celebration.’

  Maisie runs off after her, leaving me and my fiancé alone together.

  He takes my hand. I can feel his fingers wrapped around mine, gentle with repressed strength and power. I can feel the heat in his skin and read the desire in his eyes as he draws me closer.

  ‘I want to be worthy of you, Flick,’ he says. ‘I want you to let me be your hero.’

  I close my eyes, picturing him in his dark breeches, leather boots, and one of his flamboyant and rather ridiculous cheesecloth shirts, galloping his proud black stallion around the Devon countryside.

  I recall his endless patience with Maisie when she refused to sleep in her own room, his respect and appreciation for Nelson and Rafa, his kindness in taking me in when Mel kicked me out, his enthusiasm for helping Ashley begin to communicate through the healing power of horses, and his willingness – with a little persuasion from me – to give a funny little pony like Paddington a forever home.

  I lean up, press my lips to his ear and whisper through tears of love and happiness, ‘Robbie, my darling, I’ve looked up to you since the very first time we met. You are my hero, and always will be.’

 

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