STOCKINGS AND CELLULITE

by Debbie Viggiano

  We climbed over a five bar gate and dropped down into an emerald meadow. An enormous bay mare with a coat like polished mahogany stood protectively over a gangly filly. The foal gave a tinkling whinny to its mother who softly whickered back. Head up, ears pressed forward, acutely alert she monitored our steady approach. Matt was talking in a low voice, soft, almost hypnotic. Good heavens, I’d heard about people like this performing horse whispering or whatever it was called. All the same, Poppy was a big girl and I didn’t fancy my chances if she suddenly decided to bolt in our direction. I nervously stepped behind Matt and peeked around his shoulder.

  ‘Darling Pops, good girl,’ he cooed.

  Darling Pops broke into a prance, majestic neck tucked in, tail swishing. I shot anxiously behind Matt again and resisted the urge to cling to his broad back. Poppy came to a shuddering standstill in front of Matt, eyes rolling dramatically before snorting a greeting down her equine nose. A fine spray of snot showered Matt’s shirt. He laughed uproariously before patting the mare’s neck.

  ‘You naughty girl Pops, look what you’ve done to Daddy’s shirt.’

  He rubbed behind her ears. The filly was curious but kept her distance, hugging her mother’s rump. Poppy nudged Matt’s pockets and he rewarded her with a carrot. She snatched it up greedily before turning and trotting off, her pretty baby skipping skittishly in her wake.

  I exhaled with relief at the mare’s departure and stepped out from behind Matt.

  ‘Sorry Cass, do horses make you nervous?’

  ‘A bit I suppose. Silly really, I used to ride all the time when I was a kid. I guess it’s been too long since I handled them.’

  ‘Poppy wouldn’t hurt a fly otherwise I wouldn’t have brought you up here. Come on, let’s get back to the house and I’ll make us another jug of Pimms.’

  I stole a surreptitious glance at my watch. ‘Much as that sounds tempting, I’m going to have to be on my way. Liv and Toby are due home in another hour or so.’

  ‘What about a very quick coffee instead?’

  ‘Go on then you smooth talker.’

  We cut across the rested meadows which were horse free and, bit by bit, the view of the stables grew larger. There were several riding school hacks in the yard. Children were hopping about on the ground, trying to scramble onto fidgeting ponies. Suddenly something prickly pierced my foot.

  ‘Ouch!’ I yelped slapping my ankle and hopping about on one leg like one of the kids in the yard.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I must have brushed against a thistle.’

  ‘Okay now?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  We resumed walking but I’d only taken a few steps when another hot sting needled into my lower leg.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ I screeched swiping the palm of my hand against my jeans. ‘What the heck was that?’ I cast about wildly scanning the ground for thorny thistles, but the grass was short and tufted. There wasn’t a weed in sight. And then I heard a low humming. The blood drained from my face.

  ‘Cass?’

  ‘There’s a wasp up my trousers. Argh!’ I shrieked as a third sting scorched my thigh, this time accompanied by the unmistakable sound of furious buzzing. Worse still, the trapped insect was heading towards my privates. ‘Help!’ I bleated.

  ‘Get your trousers off,’ Matt ordered.

  ‘No way, somebody might…ARGH!’ I bellowed as several stings machine-gunned into my thigh. My hands slapped blindly in an effort to kill it before havoc was wreaked in my pants.

  ‘For heaven’s sake Cass TAKE YOUR BLASTED JEANS OFF,’ roared Matt tugging at my zipper.

  ‘I can’t! People might see me.’

  Of that there was no doubt. Down in the yard all the kiddies had stopped dead in their tracks to gape in our direction. Even the ponies had ceased fidgeting and were staring agog. My brain briefly wrestled with the fight or flight syndrome. After two dithery seconds it plumped for flight – regardless of the fact that the wasp would be travelling with me. Frantically I began running about in circles.

  ‘COME HERE!’

  ‘No – ARGH!’ I screamed hysterically as the wasp’s next sting set my groin on fire. Whimpering pathetically I charged blindly towards Matt. He launched himself at me with a spectacular rugby tackle and suddenly I was free falling. Holding me still with one hand, he yanked with the other at my zipper. My legs flailed about wildly – death by wasp sting being more preferable than stripping in front of an entire riding school. But Matt clung on. In a matter of seconds he’d hauled my jeans down to my knees, regrettably taking my pants with them.

  ‘IT’S OUT!’ he yelled, as a battered looking wasp took off to freedom.

  But I was deaf, dumb and blind to the loathsome insect’s departure and remained locked in terror, kicking my legs out, staggering unsteadily to my feet and breaking into a clumsy waddle with my jeans and spotted knickers at half-mast.

  A quick glance at the riding school was enough to confirm that everybody was thrilled to bits by the spectacle of a bare bummed female attempting an Olympic sprint with dropped trousers. Still shrieking my head off, I lurched forward in a frenzy of shuffling until a combination of trailing denim and gravity sent me crashing back to the ground.

  Winded, I lay face down and had a close encounter with a startled ladybird scurrying up a blade of grass. Matt rushed over and gallantly yanked everything upwards. He then pulled me to my feet where I stood unsteadily, shaking like an aspen.

  ‘Okay folks, show’s over,’ Matt called to the gawping riding school. Still they stared. ‘CLEAR OFF!’

  Wide eyed children slowly clattered off, occasionally sneaking backward glances. Some were openly giggling. Trembling violently I hung my flaming face in mortification.

  Matt put a strong arm around my waist and helped me hobble back to the house.

  ‘You’re not going anywhere Cass until you’ve had a whacking dose of antihistamine and some hot sweet tea.’

  ‘I hate tea,’ I bleated ungratefully but, once inside Matt’s house, did as I was told. He was all concern and blamed himself. Once again the jeans were tugged down as Matt dabbed a noxious smelling solution over the red welts. I sat on the sofa like an obedient child, stripped to my knickers swallowing antihistamine and syrupy tea. Matt squatted down in front of me, placed his palms lightly on my shoulders.

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Better.’

  ‘Good.’ He leant forward and gently kissed the tip of my nose.

  ‘You’re a nice man,’ I mumbled. ‘Very nice actually.’

  He smiled and kissed my nose again. Then my mouth.

  ‘You don’t have to go home you know,’ he murmured, long fingers tangling in my hair.

  I drew back. ‘That’s what you said yesterday. And even though I’m sitting in your house half dressed having indecently exposed myself, I really can’t – well you know.’

  ‘Sure. But can we do this again? Preferably without the waspy bit?’

  I grinned and nodded.

  On Monday Morag, Julia and I met up for lunch. Julia had secured five potential ‘dates’ as a result of Saturday night and was cautiously excited. Morag had ticked off numerous names in a determined effort to get her money’s worth and had half a dozen names on her own list. Ivan’s name, however, had been scrawled out.

  ‘I thought you fancied him?’ I queried. ‘In fact, didn’t you have a date with Ivan on Saturday night?’

  Morag gnashed her teeth. ‘Yes. In fact I ended up spending the entire weekend with him which was a catastrophic mistake.’

  Julia and I exchanged looks.

  ‘What happened?’ we chorused.

  ‘He was like a bloody snowstorm.’

  ‘Terrible dandruff?’

  ‘No, it was more a case of wondering when he was coming, how many inches it would be and how long it would last.’

  Julia and I looked appalled but Morag suddenly brightened up and fixed us with a determined smile.

  ‘Ne
ver mind. I’ve another eleven names to work through. Surely one of them will have a bit of mileage.’

  Chapter Nine

  Matt telephoned that evening asking if we could meet up at the weekend.

  ‘Ah, that’s a bit awkward. The twins will be with me.

  ‘Hey no problem. Bring them over too.’

  ‘Okay. Brilliant!’

  And thus I discovered that there were advantages dating a man with truck loads of emotional baggage – he didn’t mind the kids coming on dates too. Although – hang on a minute – I hadn’t actually told the children I was dating. Nor was I sure I wanted to.

  That evening I thumbed absent-mindedly through a furniture catalogue while cogitating how to approach the subject of Matt with Livvy and Toby. Flattened by worry and a ridiculous sense of guilt, I ended up ordering a four poster princess bed with frills and froth for Livvy and a metal bunk bed and desk combo for Toby. Would the promise of new bedroom furniture appease the children if I introduced Matt? Their birthdays were only a few weeks away. It could be part of their present.

  ‘Is there anything else you’d like to order Madam?’ asked the disembodied voice belonging to Customer Services.

  ‘Most definitely,’ I replied.

  Seconds later I had ordered my longed for leather bed. I hung up and stared at my credit card. It had taken such a battering it was a wonder there weren’t any dent marks across its plastic surface.

  As the weekend loomed, I still hadn’t broached the subject of Matt to the twins. Taking the bull firmly by the horns, I innocently asked the children over dinner how they would feel if I occasionally went out with a man.

  ‘What? You mean as in having a boyfriend?’ asked Livvy.

  ‘Yes, I guess so.’

  ‘Aren’t you a bit old to have a boyfriend?’ Toby frowned.

  ‘Of course I’m not too old! Boyfriends and girlfriends aren’t just for teenagers you know.’

  Livvy glanced sideways at her brother. ‘Dad’s got a girlfriend.’

  ‘Yes but he’s a man.’

  Oh joy. My son was already a male chauvinist.

  ‘Toby, older women are allowed to date too,’ I pointed out huffily. ‘It’s not just middle aged men who have the monopoly.’

  Livvy dipped a sausage in her gravy. ‘Mm. And Dad’s a bit of a goer too. First it was Cynthia. Now it’s Charlotte. I think it’s only fair Mum should have a boyfriend too. If she can get one of course.’

  Toby gave me an assessing look. ‘Yeah. You might not manage to find one very easily Mum.’ He patted my hand consolingly. ‘But I guess I don’t mind you trying.’

  ‘And me,’ Livvy bestowed a kindly smile in my direction. Almost as if I was being humoured.

  ‘Well thank you dear children for giving me your permission to date. And for your information Toby, there is somebody who wants to take me out, despite my being a dinosaur.’

  ‘Is he a dinosaur too then?’

  ‘Oh for heaven’s sake!’

  ‘Who is he?’ asked Livvy.

  So I told them a little about Matt Harding. Toby listened grimly.

  ‘What does he do?’ he asked.

  Good grief. He sounded more like a father than a son. He’d be asking me what Matt’s intentions were next.

  ‘He owns and runs an equestrian centre.’

  Livvy’s eyes lit up. ‘Cool.’

  ‘In fact he owns Molly, the pony you rode at Sophia’s birthday party.’

  ‘Wow!’ she clapped her hands gleefully. ‘Oh wow!’ Does that mean I can go riding regularly? Can I Mum?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Later, when the twins were out of earshot, I telephoned Matt to firm up arrangements.

  ‘Are you sure you’re up for this get-together with my two in tow?’

  ‘Definitely. You mentioned that you used to ride horses and I gather Livvy enjoyed the pony party, so why don’t we do something altogether with a few gee-gees chucked into the equation?’

  I was amazed. And incredibly pleased. And quite pathetically grateful actually. Ringing off I hastened to the bottom of the stairs and immediately bellowed up to the twins. Their reaction was to whoop uproariously like delinquent yobbos.

  ‘But listen kids,’ I warned, ‘please behave. Don’t embarrass me by squabbling and being – well you know,’ I trailed off beseechingly.

  ‘Don’t worry Mum. We won’t be the children from hell,’ Livvy smiled.

  ‘Unless of course we think Matt Harding is hell,’ muttered Toby ominously.

  Saturday dawned bright and clear. When we arrived at Matt’s house he wasn’t there. Instead Joanie answered the door.

  ‘Dad’s at the yard. Go down, he’s expecting you,’ she smiled at the kids and Liv grinned shyly back. Toby, however, gazed dispassionately at Joanie’s good natured face before curling his lip.

  ‘Is she my future step-sister?’ he jerked his head at Joanie’s retreating figure behind the door.

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous Toby!’ I spluttered. ‘Matt is simply a friend, okay?’ I caught his wrist and yanked him round to face me. ‘I said okay?’

  Livvy gave her brother a push. ‘Stop being stupid Tobes. What’s the matter with you?’

  Toby gave his sister a retaliatory shove just as Matt suddenly swung into my line of vision. Terrific. His first impression of us all as a family was a harassed mother refereeing two children on the verge of punching each other’s lights out. I gave them both a discreet prod in the back.

  ‘Pack it in now,’ I hissed.

  Toby continued to bristle with hostility.

  ‘Hello all!’ Matt lifted a hand in greeting.

  ‘Hi!’ Livvy beamed. She didn’t give a hoot whether Matt Harding had two horns and a devil’s tail. Her expression was lead me to your ponies.

  Toby remained chilly, his face aloof. Ooh would I have something to say to this son of mine later.

  ‘Ah ha ha ha,’ I laughed nervously. ‘Matt, this is Livvy and Toby.’

  Toby rolled his eyes condescendingly. Oh God, I really wasn’t sure if this was such a good idea after all. But Matt was unfazed by Toby’s arctic response. He led us off towards the stables, all the while chatting about Poppy and her little filly. Within minutes Livvy was eating out of the palm of Matt’s hand. Toby remained resolutely silent, although I could see he was reluctantly interested.

  We crossed to the riding school side of the yard where ponies were tethered to posts, dusty coats being vigorously groomed, while others rested between rides. The place was a hive of activity with busy stable girls mucking out, changing water buckets and stuffing hay into vast string nets.

  ‘There’s Molly!’ squeaked Livvy pointing to a shagpile rug with meter high ears.

  Ah yes. The mule.

  ‘Would you like to ride her?’ asked Matt.

  ‘Yes please,’ Livvy dimpled. She rushed over to stroke Molly’s velvety nose and kiss the tiny star on her forehead.

  Toby feigned disinterest. With an apparent air of boredom he wandered over to a pony whose stable door proclaimed the name Chester.

  ‘He’s a good’un,’ Matt joined Toby and patted the pony’s flecked neck. ‘Would you like me to tack him up for you?’

  ‘Whatever.’

  I burned with embarrassment.

  Unperturbed, Matt called a stable girl over to show both children how to groom and saddle up the ponies. Their attention thus diverted, Matt caught me by the hand and led me in the opposite direction.

  ‘I’m so sorry about Toby,’ I apologised, my voice catching. ‘I don’t know what’s got into him. He’s not usually like this. He’s a good boy really.’

  We’d stopped outside a stable with a tubby grey mare inside.

  ‘This is Blue,’ was all Matt said. He opened the stable door and fussed over the animal like an over-protective parent, talking to her all the while as he put tack on and adjusted stirrup leathers. Eventually he turned back to me. ‘Blue’s an old timer and safe as houses to ride. She’ll look after you.
That’s what Toby’s doing Cass. Looking out for his Mum. Letting me know that if there’s any nonsense then I’ve got him to deal with. One or two of my kids behaved in exactly the same way to old girlfriends. Goes with the territory eh?’

  I realised with a jolt that I was not fully au fait with how the children perceived their parents pairing off with other partners. Toby didn’t seem to mind about his father having a girlfriend although Livvy had been furiously indignant about Charlotte. I wondered what thoughts ran through their minds as they juggled two parents and two separate homes with potential new partners falling into the mix? I realised some sort of talk was long overdue.

  Matt led Blue out of the stable and gave me a leg up before mounting an enormous piebald the size of an elephant.

  ‘This is Tiny,’ he laughed as we plodded out of the yard and up the dirt track lane.

  It had been a good couple of decades since I’d last sat astride a horse. As we gently hacked through woods and out the other side to winding rural lanes, the years slipped away. Leg muscles groaned but I ignored them. Blue maintained a shambling trot in order to keep up with Tiny’s long swinging gait.

  Two hours later, my thigh muscles screaming with protest, we jogged back to the yard. My ability to rise to the trot had long been abandoned for ungainly bouncing.

  Matt effortlessly slid off Tiny. However, Blue had a girth like a water barrel and my legs appeared to have set like concrete around her middle.

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ Matt teased. ‘You’ve enjoyed yourself so much you don’t want to get off.’

  ‘Actually, I don’t think I can get off. I’m not joking, I’m stuck.’

  ‘Let me help you.’ Matt efficiently removed my booted feet from the stirrups. ‘Lean forward – no right forward – over her neck.’

  He pushed my stiff legs back until I was spread across Blue’s back like a rolled up carpet. Perhaps I could just fall sideways into his arms? I dropped stiffly to the ground.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ I gasped. I was still in my riding position but minus the pony. I smiled gratefully at two stable girls who materialised from nowhere to lead Blue and Tiny away. ‘I’ll soon limber up.’