The Long and the Short of it.

by Jan Ruth

  *

  In the morning, Laura moved the heavy curtains back to see the long, hopelessly messy garden, the bottom of which resembled a landfill site. Maggie spent hours digging in it and trying to keep the hens from scratching out the vegetables, then complained about her bad back and the soil under her nails.

  Downstairs in the kitchen, Maggie’s seventeen-year old daughter was making dandelion tea. Laura studied the sprayed on denim, the midriff tattoo and the wild black hair from a different perspective. Beneath the gothic styling, the lithesome blue eyed Jessica was quite stunning, her behaviour somewhat challenging. Maggie’s youngest was sweet faced ten year old Ellie, a different prospect altogether. She had a mild form of autism. What if Laura had a child with more pronounced special needs? Could she cope, what would happen to her life?

  Maggie had a hangover and slumped into one of the kitchen chairs with a glass of fizzy water. ‘Oh, Lord I’m too old for partying.’

  ‘Dead right,’ Jess muttered under her breath.

  *

  After a late breakfast, it was time for Ellie’s riding lesson. Only ten minutes out of the village and Maggie turned the Toyota into a farm track bordered by tall hawthorn hedges and preceded by a white wrought iron sign, J & E Morgan-Jones, Equestrian Centre. They bounced over a cattle grid and Ellie shrieked, holding on to her hat. Maggie pointed out some cottages and a barn over to Laura’s left, where the undulating fields gave way to the rearing mountains behind.

  ‘I think those must be the properties Liz wants you to see.’

  Laura contemplated the windswept stretch of land. The buildings were too far away to see any detail but it was good grazing, she knew that much, and the rugged up horses strung out across the wind flattened grass looked like thoroughbreds. She noted the miles of neat hedging, post and rail fencing and proper water butts, rather than saggy barbed wire and an old bath to catch rainwater.

  Presently, they came to the yard and Maggie parked alongside several smart cars. The January wind was biting, and Laura shrank into her astrakhan coat but looked with interest at the immaculate rows of looseboxes. It wasn’t what she was expecting at all. There was real money here. If she could secure any kind of future project for Dragon Designs, especially a barn conversion, Simon would be over the moon. Not only were they short of work but it might also buy her some thinking time as regards their personal problems. It would certainly earn her a lot of brownie points.

  There was a small farmhouse and a jumble of outbuildings housing tractors, hay and equipment, and an outdoor menage, busy with horses and riders. They walked across to the house, heads down against the weather. Liz was in the little front room, which looked to be used as an office. On the desk there was an untidy jumble of computers, printers and phones, and the walls were decorated with notices and photographs, and some rosettes.

  Liz compared hangover symptoms with Maggie, until Ellie dragged her mother away to watch her riding lesson with James.

  ‘You look frozen, coffee?’ Liz said to Laura.

  ‘Please, thanks.’ Laura found a chair. She felt suddenly wobbly and the smell of bacon sandwiches from somewhere wasn’t helping her queasiness. Liz passed her a mug with images of Welsh Mountain ponies cantering around the rim, in a never ending circle.

  ‘I apologise for my brother last night,’ she went on, briskly adding a number of un-opened letters to an already towering pile, then sorting through the mess of paperwork propped against the keyboard with a mounting exasperation. ‘Look at this! It’s like trying to run a business with Doctor Dolittle or some… I dunno, gypsy horse whisperer!’

  ‘I can see how that might be difficult,’ Laura said, but Liz laughed. ‘Oh, I don’t want to keep running him down, you’ll give up before we’ve started, and I need all the help I can get,’ she said, then looked over Laura’s head, through the window. ‘He’s actually an amazingly patient teacher. Far more patient than me, more instinctive.’

  ‘Horses, or people?’

  ‘Oh, both,’ she added seriously, ‘most definitely both.’

  Liz took her to preview the cottages whilst James was busy with Ellie.

  There was a single-track lane behind the house. It swept around in a giant horseshoe and continued over a pretty stone bridge. Liz pulled up outside a small terrace of three cottages, and an impressive barn. After a struggle with the keys, they shoved open the worn door of Mefysen Cottage. Inside, it was pokey and run down with plaster falling off in places and a lot of rotten wood. Someone had ripped off the original picture rails and cornices but the fireplace was still there, full of old newspapers. Laura glanced through the dirty windows. To the rear of the cottages there was a tumble of wild garden falling away to a steep bank and a foaming white stream. Beyond the stream reared the foothills of Minas Bach, partially obscured by cloud.

  Next door, the two smaller cottages had been knocked into one. ‘Wow, this is big!’ Laura said, surprised. ‘Actually, it’s fabulous!’

  ‘Dad knocked them through years ago.’

  Most of the fifties style fixtures had been ripped out and there was half a brand new kitchen, but not much else. It looked like a promising job had been abandoned.

  ‘Who’s done this?’ Laura said, running her hand across the worktop. It was solid oak and well made, and there was a Belfast sink and an Aga.

  ‘James. He lost interest, lost heart, I suppose.’

  Dragon Designs had lost count of the work they’d managed to procure because someone had run out of time or money, or expertise. ‘That’s a shame,’ Laura prompted, then because Liz failed to make further comment, studied the old sepia prints on the newly plastered walls, mostly old men proudly holding horses. She loved to get the feeling of a place, carry it forwards if she could.

  ‘So, who lived here? What’s the history?’

  Liz brightened at this. ‘Oh, we grew up here, James and I. It’s been in the family for generations. Dad eventually bought out the neighbouring farm and land, and that’s the bit you see now,’ she said, indicating the yard. ‘James lives in the original farmhouse and I live in the village with my partner. It works well enough. We need someone on the premises full time. And James prefers old buildings, you know, something to fix all the time. That said, he’s no good with neighbours, I reckon he’d just shoot most of them in time.’

  Laura laughed, moved to look through the little windows. The cottage overlooked the fields of horses she’d seen from the drive. They were alert and restless in the high wind, their movements so fast and fluid they looked to be dancing above the ground.

  ‘What kind of horses are those?’ she said, moved by their joie de vivre, their spirit was almost tangible, even to her untrained eye.

  ‘Beautiful aren’t they? They’re all Arab mares, pure bred. Three generations I think.’

  ‘Are they all yours?’

  Liz gave her a wearisome smile. ‘My brother’s. They’re worth an absolute fortune and he won’t do anything with them. And they eat like horses, if you’ll pardon the pun.’

  Laura dragged her eyes away and focused on the business in hand. ‘I’d love to handle this project. What do you want to achieve with these buildings?’

  ‘The main goal is to release capital; the running costs of the yard are far too high. We have too many assets, which don’t actually earn us anything. These cottages, the barn, and the mares.’

  ‘And James, what does he really think?’

  ‘Let’s go back to base and discuss it shall we? It’s freezing here.’

  Back on the yard it was just as cold. Liz was drawn into some problem with the staff as soon as she climbed out of the Range Rover, so Laura wandered over to the menage, where Maggie was leaning on the rail watching James and Ellie. Laura wrapped her cashmere scarf over her head to try and stop her teeth from chattering.

  Her niece was astride a huge horse, her hands buried in a mass of chestnut mane as it described a perfect, measured circle with the smoothest, most con
trolled gait. When she realised the horse had no saddle or bridle, Laura looked at her sister with sudden surprise, but Maggie was completely focused on the intimacy of the scene.

  James was stood in the centre with a long schooling whip. His commands were mostly to the horse and he spoke so softly Laura couldn’t distinguish many words above the wind. Sometimes he simply raised his hand and the horse stood still. When he turned away, the animal followed, nudging his pockets and Ellie laughed out loud. It was nothing like the riding lessons Laura had endured as a child, which mostly consisted of Maggie yelling at her and then giving up because Laura just wanted to stop.

  ‘Can you believe that’s Ellie?’ her sister said.

  Laura knew the painstaking time it had taken her sister to persuade the little girl to even sit on a pony. Maggie spent hours on the Internet researching animals and autism, and Laura knew of the therapy, how it could be a channel for communication, but it didn’t always work for every case and Laura had been concerned that Maggie would push too hard. But James was nothing like Maggie.

  Laura was impressed with the evidence, Liz rather less so. She joined the sisters at the paddock rail and watched with a mostly set face as her brother brought the horse to a halt. When it bowed rather majestically like Champion the Wonder horse and bared its big yellow teeth in a sort of horsey smile, Laura thought Liz might expire. Her mouth dropped open with disbelief, then clamped shut.

  James lifted Ellie down before she slid off.

  ‘Is he magic?’ Ellie said.

  ‘No, but you are.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Mr Ed.’

  Thrilled with it all, Maggie and Ellie disappeared down the yard together, Mr. Ed following like a huge dog. When they were out of earshot, Liz ducked under the rail.

  ‘Are you completely mad?’

  James looked at her for all of two seconds, then began to rake over the surface sand and throw horse droppings into a bucket. Liz followed him. ‘Health and Safety would have a total meltdown if they knew you were playing circus tricks with the clients. If there was an accident we could be sued, since you refuse to follow any guidelines! And then there’s the small issue of our British Horse Society membership, remember that? Are you listening to anything I’m saying?’ She folded her arms. ‘Where did that horse come from anyway?’

  ‘A circus.’

  Liz looked up at the sky, counted to about five. When he made to go, she snatched at his arm. ‘Don’t just walk off, we need to talk.’

  ‘Like I said, I’m busy.’

  ‘No, you’re not. I’ve checked your diary.’

  ‘I don’t put everything in it.’

  ‘Yes, well that’s another problem!’

  ‘Look, I don’t want to do this today.’

  ‘Tough. I do, and Laura’s waiting.’

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose, then shot them both a dark look. Laura thought she’d die of the cold and yet he only wore denims and a dirty wax jacket, hanging open and soaked with sleet. Liz marched into the office, motioning Laura to follow.

  More drinks made; Laura opened her briefcase and found a notebook, and blew on her fingers. James closed the door behind him and took the chair next to her. His prickly presence made her nervous, if he began talking figures she’d be sunk.

  ‘I’ll make a few notes today and send you some details in the post, then if you like what you see, Simon will come and carry out a proper valuation and draw up estimates.’

  ‘That would be great,’ Liz said.

  ‘From what I’ve seen the simplest and fastest way to raise capital is for Dragon Designs to buy the cottages and the barn as they stand and...’

  ‘No,’ James said. ‘I want complete control over who lives on my land.’

  ‘Okay… fair comment,’ Laura said. ‘The next option then is to have us develop the properties in order for you to sell or rent.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘I can’t give you a formal estimate without a proper valuation, and that’s not really my area.’

  ‘Give me an informal one, then.’

  ‘James,’ Liz cut in, ‘you heard what she said.’

  Laura smiled briefly at Liz. ‘Of course if you want to sell on, it would involve you making an initial investment to make the properties more marketable, if you want the best return.’

  ‘And that’s where you come in, is it?’ James said, tapping a pencil on his teeth.

  ‘It’s where Dragon Designs come in. We can oversee the whole project, work to your budget and we have top quality builders and suppliers to hand.’

  ‘And then we can sell to whoever we see fit?’ Liz said.

  ‘Technically, yes,’ Laura said carefully. ‘You can’t afford to be too choosy though. Sales are tough at the minute.’

  ‘What if we were to rent them?’ Liz asked.

  ‘Well, then you would be in complete control with tenants, and rentals are very lucrative at the moment,’ Laura said, warming to her theme. She chatted about the rental market, looking at James to ascertain his reaction but he was staring moodily into the middle distance. ‘Then if you didn’t like the tenants walking on the grass, you could always give them a six month contract with a two month notice to quit,’ she went on, then almost bit her tongue. Sarcasm wouldn’t work. She reminded herself how big this contract might be, and turned a smile in Liz’s direction.

  ‘The downside of that is you would realise no capital, but you would get a steady income. You might want to consider holiday lets, and then you cash in on the riding as well.’

  ‘Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,’ Liz said, deeply impressed.

  Encouraged, Laura added, ‘You could always raise capital another way. Sell some land say... or horses.’

  There was an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the telephone ringing.

  ‘Oh, excuse me Laura,’ Liz said, and picked up the call.

  James lit a cigarette and stared at the floor. Laura did her best to ignore his mutinous face, but his attitude was beginning to get on her nerves. He might be the majority shareholder but it was glaringly obvious he didn’t want her there. Neither did she wish to sit in his smoke.

  Laura hunted in her bag for a business card and slid it on to the desk.‘Give me a call?’ she mouthed to Liz, who gave her the thumbs up sign by way of a reply.

  James followed her out of the office.

  Laura put her case into Maggie’s vehicle, aware that he was right behind her.

  ‘You can stop the designer speak now,’ he said.

  ‘I was asked my opinion, and I gave it to the best of my ability.’

  ‘What? All that bloody waffle was your advice?’

  ‘Look, why don’t you just go ahead and do it all yourself then?’ Laura said, slamming the car door shut. ‘You didn’t get very far last time.’

  ‘It’s a deal.’

  Laura opened her mouth to backtrack but she wasn’t quick enough. She was left with his back view, ambling across the yard calling up his dogs, a huge grey Lurcher and a funny little white Terrier covered in mud. But Laura didn’t really take in the scene, all she could see was her dream job falling apart brick by brick. And she’d demolished it all by herself.

  ***

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  White Horizon - Chapter One

  WHITE HORIZON

  By Jan Ruth.

  Three couples in crisis, multiple friendships under pressure.

  On-off-on lovers Daniel and Tina return to their childhood town near Snowdonia. After twenty-five years together, they marry in typically chaotic fashion, witnessed by old friends, Victoria and Linda who become entangled in the drama, their own lives changing beyond recognition.

  However, as all their marriages begin to splinter, and damaged Victoria begins an affair with Daniel, the secret illness that Tina has been hiding emerges. Victoria's crazed and v
iolent ex-husband attempts to kill Daniel and nearly succeeds, in a fire that devastates the community. On the eve of their first wedding anniversary, Tina returns to face her husband, but is it to say goodbye forever, or to stay?

  Chapter One.

  Victoria told herself she wasn’t remotely interested in Daniel and Tina’s wedding. Even so, she found herself drawn to the article in the local press with a slightly cynical smile. The smile was down to an old blurry photograph of the happy couple, speeding across the local school field on a motorbike, and just out of shot, an enraged headmaster.

  The Welsh Coast Weekly made their subsequent life story sound like a low budget film. There was mention of some kind of controversial inheritance, how it had sealed their fate to return to their home town after some twenty years, to be married in the local church. Given their Bonnie and Clyde style status at school, Victoria had always imagined they would get hitched somewhere like Las Vegas, or John o’ Groats. Oh, and his proposal was the result of a drunken pact! Great basis for a marriage! But who was she to judge. She’d married Max, and a fine upstanding pillar of society he’d turned out to be.

  She shivered involuntarily at the thought of Max. How weird that the sensation of fear in her gut was physically almost the same as sexual anticipation. The idea of that, the sudden connection of it, both frightened and revolted Victoria, but she expertly pushed it to one side and crossed to the French windows to stare at the delicately frosted garden. The ancient trees and the stark vision of Aphrodite holding out her hands to catch the winter sun, filled her with calm. After all, the statue represented the goddess of love, despite the frozen tendrils of ivy clutching her stone heart.

  Victoria made some strong coffee and took the cup and the paper into the conservatory, where she smoothed out page five onto the glass table. This time she went through the story much more carefully, looking for confirmation between every line that all that wild behaviour had got them absolutely nowhere. Why did she feel the need to know that? To reaffirm to herself that her life was so much better? Not surprisingly, it didn’t work. She didn’t succeed in feeling any kind of relief or superiority. Eventually, the paper went into the log maker in the formal sitting room and Victoria felt a certain measure of satisfaction in crushing all the words, ready for burning.