by Fiona Walker
‘It’s only chops, I’m afraid.’ She scraped the onions to one side and dropped in two chunky cuts of Berkshire pork from the farmers’ market. ‘If I’d known you were definitely coming I’d have defrosted something better.’
‘You invited me to supper.’
‘Yes, of course.’ She felt silly, and also ridiculously nervous, as though she’d willingly invited a predatory animal into her house.
‘About time, too.’ He looked up at her, his big dark eyes impossible to read.
‘Sorry – yes, very rude to be so antisocial, but with Hugo in the States …’ Red-faced, she fetched potatoes from the larder and began peeling them over the sink. ‘It’s such bad timing that he and Rory went away so soon after you got here, just as you’re settling in. But of course we had no idea when – if – you’d get here in the end.’
‘You know why I couldn’t come.’
Tash turned, peeler aloft, head to one side. She had never fully got to grips with the details of Lough’s arrest and detention. ‘I’m not sure I do, to be honest.’
‘I’ll tell you some time.’ He stared at his fingers, which were badly chapped from long hours outside and the nails bitten right down.
Tash nervously opened a bottle of Marlborough red, her own fingers clumsy on the foil. She should have listened to Hugo. The man was a bad-tempered misanthrope. She should never have invited him in.
The wine seemed to loosen his tongue a little, however, and he outlined his plans to enter a few modest one-day trials to settle his horses as well as competing at the bigger pre-Badminton three-star CCIs. ‘I’m going to lease a box so I can get about independently.’
‘You’re part of the team here. You can travel to competitions with us.’
‘I prefer my own company.’
‘We all muck in together,’ she said carefully, ‘there’s no room for modesty or ego.’
‘Are you competing this season?’ He looked across at her.
‘I’ve got no choice.’
His dark eyes were on her face, not quite catching her eye but focusing on the seed pearl stud in her left earlobe.
‘Then you need help.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
His flat, laconic voice had a strange thread of emotion woven through it when he spoke, addressing his own hands with passion: ‘You’re in trouble, Tash. You have a lot of talent and that doesn’t go away, but when your nerve goes it’s dangerous in our sport. You look a mess out there. Believe me, I’ve been there big time.’
‘Really?’ She was fighting to keep the sarcasm from her voice, deeply hurt despite the fact she knew he was speaking the truth.
‘Yeah, I’ll tell you about it some time.’
That was obviously his line to avoid any lengthy inquisitions.
‘I’ll get you through it,’ he offered.
‘That’s really kind, but—’
‘It’s not a suggestion.’ He refilled their glasses. ‘It’s a guarantee.’
‘Thanks.’ She smiled nervously, certain Hugo would disapprove. But in truth she badly needed help. ‘I sometimes feel I’ve forgotten how to ride these days.’
The voice was gruff and flat, rendering the quotation unrecognisable: ‘Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you.’
‘I’m sorry?’
He looked at his hands. ‘It’s easy.’
‘I do hope so.’ She stood up hurriedly, realising she’d forgotten to put any vegetables on to boil.
Lough watched her crossing the room. ‘Tash, why are you doing this to me?’
‘Doing what?’
‘I know you said you’d deny everything, but we’re alone now. Hugo’s thousands of miles away. We don’t have to pretend any more.’
She was too busy digging around in the fridge for supplies to concentrate. ‘I’m not pretending anything.’
‘C’mon. You opened your heart.’ His deep voice held sharp flints of irritation as well as the heat of affection. ‘We’re birds of a feather. What’s changed? Help me out here: I’ve been drowning since I arrived.’
For a moment Tash wondered if this was some elaborate wind-up, and that Lough shared Lemon’s bizarre sense of humour after all. But one glance over her shoulder told her that this was no joke as his big, dark eyes burned holes into her face.
Carrots and broccoli hugged tightly to her chest, she dashed to the sink, her mind racing as she tried to figure out why exactly he thought they were birds of a feather. She suddenly felt very vulnerable, alone with him in her big, silent house, the children sleeping upstairs. She could see the lights on over the courtyard – the Czechs and Beccy and her gang, all just out of earshot if she screamed.
She shuffled along the kitchen surface with her colander of rinsed veg and selected the biggest chopping knife to slice them down to size.
‘Honestly, I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said carefully.
‘The phone calls. The texts.’ Anger was rippling through his soft words now, building pressure. ‘I risked my liberty to keep in contact with you. I thought you felt the same in your prison, too.’
Tash stopped chopping. ‘I can’t send a text, Lough – not without referring to the manual. Ask anybody.’
‘Bullshit!’ He exploded, standing up.
‘It’s true,’ she bleated, keeping a firm hold of the knife handle.
He marched straight past her and started pacing up and down in front of the window, a caged panther pressed up against its bars. ‘You said you needed rescuing. You said you were unhappy. You begged my help.’
‘I did no such thing!’
He pulled a mobile phone from his back pocket and started punching its buttons. ‘You keep me sane; I wait up all night to hear from you; You have the key to me.’
‘What’s the caller’s number?’ Tash demanded.
‘Yours. The one you gave me.’
‘When?’
‘The first time I phoned to say I was coming. You’d just had your baby and said you were bored and all alone.’
‘I definitely didn’t take that call.’
‘Well who did?’ He sounded disbelieving.
She thought back, raking her memory. It was the day that Dillon Rafferty had dropped in by helicopter and life at Haydown changed completely; the day they learned Lough was coming. ‘Beccy spoke to you,’ she remembered.
‘Beccy?’
‘What’s the number?’
But he pocketed his phone again. ‘Forget it.’
‘I’ll talk to her about it tomorrow,’ Tash promised. ‘I’m sure there’s a perfectly simple explanation.’
‘No,’ Lough insisted. ‘You stay out if it. This is between me and her. I’ll sort it.’ He stood up. ‘Thanks for the wine. I’ve lost my appetite.’
Left alone, Tash fed the burned chops to the slavering Bitches of Eastwick before locking all the doors and retreating upstairs for a bath, terrified that she’d just lifted the lid on Pandora’s Box. She wanted to somehow warn Beccy, but she didn’t want to embarrass her, especially when she had her friends with her.
An hour later, in another shouted conversation from a sand school in Florida, Hugo had a badly timed change of heart: ‘You’re right about Lough. We need to get him a social life. Get some locals over, and owners. Introduce him to Lucy and Venetia, the Stanton girls and all the hunting lot …’ He started outlining plans that could keep Tash busy every night for weeks, entertaining most of their contacts, and especially any ravishing single women they knew. She supposed it would at least enable her to spread the word about the surprise party for Hugo’s birthday.
‘I’ve already asked the Moncrieffs to help you out,’ he told her. ‘Gus can take my place, and Penny will chaperone Lough so that you can concentrate on hosting. She’ll make sure he meets the right people.’
Tash knew she was being stage-managed, but the thought of having a social life again delighted her.
In the stables flat, Faith stifled yawns as her two companions fell
about with unbridled laughter. That evening, Beccy had persuaded Lemon to dress up in drag to see if he’d have more chance of attracting a man if he dressed as a woman. The verdict was a resounding no. He looked like Donatella Versace. But the little Kiwi groom clearly loved the fake lashes and bling, singing along to Lady Gaga with a hairbrush as a microphone and Beccy providing backing vocals.
‘I wanna take a ride on your disco stick …’ he howled as he minced past, stooping to shimmy in front of Faith. ‘C’mon, join in, Eff!’
Faith might be almost a decade younger than her friends, but she found them incredibly juvenile at times. They were bunny-hopping side by side now the song came to a close, hands on crotches, re-enacting the video. These days, with Rory in America and the Moncrieffs utilising her more at Lime Tree Farm, time spent at Haydown thrilled her less, and Lemon and Limey were becoming increasingly bitter and twisted. The two had grown very close since New Year, she noticed, with Beccy acting as the ever-more straight man to Lemon’s camp vitriol. That struck Faith as unhealthy, but she was very sensitive to how much Beccy had regained confidence since the Moncrieffs’ party and didn’t want to undermine that. Faith had expected Beccy to be withdrawn for weeks, yet she seemed to have blossomed, which was in reverse proportion to her own flagging energy as she found her party cherry-popper with Lemon increasingly regrettable.
Her heart gave a timely lurch as Beccy’s iPhone burst into life beside her with strains of ‘Two Souls’; it was the ringtone she had designated to Rory on her old Samsung. Picking up the phone to pass to her friend, Faith was surprised to see a photograph of Lough lighting up the screen.
‘Aren’t you going to answer that, Becs?’ Lemon struck a pose and flicked his wig.
Beccy had turned pale. ‘No. It’s nobody I want to speak to.’ ‘Two Souls’ abruptly stopped.
They all jumped as somebody banged loudly on the bedroom door.
‘Come in!’ Lemon giggled nervously.
Lough walked in, his face as stormy as a thundercloud over Mount Cook.
‘Oh, shit. I can explain …’ Donatella went into sharp reverse, but there was nowhere to hide.
Barely affording his cross-dressing groom a second glance, Lough held up a hand to silence him, his phone still gripped in it. ‘What you do in your spare time’s your concern, Lemon – just don’t let the horses see you like that. Beccy, we need to talk.’
She was cowering in a corner, wearing a feather boa and a sulky expression.
‘What about?’
‘I’d rather this was in private.’
‘Well I’d rather not,’ she answered, her voice brittle.
‘Then we can talk in front of your friends if you’d prefer.’
‘No!’ she wailed, and to his alarm burst into tears.
Glaring accusingly at Lough, Faith jumped up and put her arms around Beccy. ‘Now isn’t the time for this, whatever it’s about.’
‘Tell him to leave me alone!’ Beccy pleaded, burying her face in Faith’s side.
Lough hesitated, clearly thrown by the girls’ reaction. Even the daft-looking curly-haired dog was barking at him now.
‘You’ve upset Karma!’ Beccy sobbed.
When he didn’t immediately leave, Faith passed the shaking, sobbing Beccy into the arms of Lemon and marched up to Lough, backing him out of the room and into the dark corridor.
‘This way,’ she hissed, jerking her head for him to follow her into the kitchen where the debris of an Indian takeaway littered every surface.
‘I need to speak with her,’ Lough demanded quietly.
‘She’s in a bad way,’ Faith whispered, her eyes narrowing. ‘Whatever this is about can wait.’
‘Says who?’
Faith cursed under her breath, fixing him with a determined stare that could twist lesser men’s scrotums. She pushed the kitchen door to behind her.
‘It’s taken us weeks to get her to start to open up again,’ she whispered, running a hand through her frizzy hair so that it stood up on end. ‘Tonight has been a breakthrough. Don’t fuck that up by laying into her about turning one of your horses out in the wrong rug or some other shit. She’s on a hair trigger.’
‘So, funnily enough, am I,’ he fumed. ‘Now tell her to dry her eyes and come in here, and we can sort this out quietly and calmly.’
Faith wasn’t about to be intimidated. ‘Sort what out?’
He hissed through his teeth. ‘Let’s start with deliberate deceit, misrepresentation, impersonating someone el—’
‘Fine!’ she cut in angrily. ‘Not as serious as murder, then?’
Lough’s expression darkened.
‘Or sexual assault?’ a voice spoke from the door, making them both jump. Lemon had quickly changed back into jeans and washed away Donatella, although he still had mascara stains under his eyes.
Faith shot him a warning look, but he ignored her.
Lough’s dark eyes were wide with shock. ‘Sexual assault?’
Lem nodded. ‘Beccy was assaulted at New Year.’
‘She doesn’t want anyone to know,’ Faith reminded him in a whisper. ‘Where is she?’
‘In the bathroom.’
She pushed past him to check, pausing to whisper in his ear. ‘Don’t say another word until I get back.’
As soon as she was out of the room Lemon closed the door and leant against it, his panda eyes regarding Lough intently. ‘You’ll have to excuse Faith. She gets pretty defensive around her friends, yeah, especially when they’ve been through a hard time.’
‘Christ!’ Lough felt a blast of concern and anger run through him. ‘Was Beccy hurt?’
‘Only up there.’ Lemon tapped his head. ‘But Beccy’s pretty sensitive up there.’
‘So I’m finding out.’ He blew out through his lips, trying not to think about those amazing, electric texts. ‘Do you know who assaulted her?’
Lemon’s eyes hardened. ‘Hugo,’ he breathed. ‘It was Hugo.’
Lough started in surprise. He saw the man as an incorrigible player, but assault wasn’t his style. ‘Are you sure?’
His little groom looked belligerent. ‘Beccy might think it was all star-crossed stuff, but that’s bullshit. Yeah, and maybe she led him on, but he took advantage of her.’
Lough imagined the enticement from Beccy, and the thought saddened him. He wondered if she sent Hugo texts too. She was clearly out of control, but that was no excuse for what Hugo had done, both to her and to his family. ‘Poor bloody Tash,’ he breathed.
‘Poor Beccy,’ Lemon countered in an angry hiss. ‘Hugo thinks he can pick up anything he likes and drop it again, not caring whose lives he destroys in the process. Somebody needs to teach him a lesson.’
‘Not me.’ Lough shook his head.
‘Why not? I thought that’s why you came here.’
Lough was still shaking his head. ‘I’ve destroyed enough lives myself,’ he said with feeling. ‘I came here to save one. I thought I was invited. Turns out I was wrong.’
‘So are we going home?’ Lemon asked hopefully.
Lough gazed out of the little kitchen window, across the cobbled yards, frosted white and lamp-lit by the moon, and ran his eyes along the darkened upper windows of Haydown, wondering if one was shielding Tash from the cold.
He contemplated going back to New Zealand, even if that meant facing the demons he’d left behind. It was the obvious solution. Nothing was as it seemed here; he felt as though he had walked into a hall of mirrors. But when he had left Auckland, he’d barely been able to face his own reflection. At least here the demons had new faces, and he was too close to something he had wanted for so long to turn around and leave it behind.
He had to protect her from Hugo. The man was a monster. He had to protect them all.
‘We’re staying.’
They could hear Faith banging on the bathroom door, insisting that Beccy had been in there long enough and demanding she come out.
‘I’d better check they’re okay.’ Lemon
turned away.
As soon as he’d left the room Lough reached for his phone and sent her a text, knowing for the first time that it wasn’t her at all.
Beccy, let’s forget this ever happened. I don’t know why you did it, but I’m glad you did. It saw me through. It brought me here. It brought me salvation. Now you and I must forget and keep confidence. L
Just two letters came back from the depths of the bathroom. OK.
As he walked back to the lodge cottage, Lough edited the number in his phone from ‘Tash’ to ‘Beccy’. Then, one by one, deleted the stored texts.
His mind kept returning to that night with Hugo, before he’d been misled into thinking Tash was the one replying to his messages.
‘She’s all yours,’ Hugo had told him.
She had been his guiding light in recent weeks, that drunken bet taking on life-changing proportions. Since arriving in the UK Lough had seen the way Tash struggled on a daily basis to hold her family together, to temper Hugo’s waywardness and to overcome her nerves, yet her fortitude and kindness never faltered. She remained the only truly innocent one among them all. To Lough, she seemed to grow more beautiful with each day that passed.
He wanted to win the bet more than ever.
Much later, Beccy lay in her bed clutching Karma, debating whether or not to run away. She could be packed and gone by morning. Nobody would miss her. She had screwed it up with Hugo and now she’d screwed it up with Lough.
That he was willing to forgive and forget brought no real relief to the scalding shame and loss she felt. She’d been so childish to mislead him, and yet she’d sensed a real bond. Now that had been completely destroyed, she was lonelier than ever.
She got up and paced her room, uncertain what to do. She could hear Lemon’s music two rooms away. He must still be awake.
Padding through the flat, she knocked on his door.
When he opened it, looking comfortingly cuddly in purple pyjamas, his eyelashes still smoky with mascara, she stifled a sob. ‘Can I please have a hug?’
Lemon didn’t really do hugs, but he made an exception; it would be easier to handle than yet more tears. Having been in touch with his feminine side tonight, he was feeling conciliatory. He even dropped a comforting kiss into her hair.
