Til Morning Comes

by Lisa Ann Harper

  “It’s over now love. We have a better understanding.” She flicked her a sympathetic glance as she got up to make her way to the kitchen, but Jellie stopped her in her tracks.

  “Mal, I do have to say something.” She waited, almost holding her breath, a chill spreading inside her. She came back, a deep crease across her brow. “I get very lonely here sometimes. It’s like being at Lychette’s all over again only this time it’s a house, not a room.”

  “I thought you liked it here; that you were happy here.” Her voice cracked like broken crystal as the words erupted from her mouth. She strode closer to search the face for meaning.

  “I do! I am!” She could feel fiery colour ascending from her neck to sting her cheeks. “I just wanted to tell you some of my problem,” she whispered, then struggled to fill her lungs, but she needed to say this. To preserve her mental stability she would rather be bruised by telling the truth, than soothe her feelings with convenient deception. Now she had discovered there would be no lasting peace if she hid anything from Mal. “Connor made me feel not so alone – he made me laugh. It was fun being with him and …” She closed her lips tightly, in the end unable to say more.

  “Of course, that’s only natural …” she tried to mask the spasm of fear that had leaped into her face: “… he’s a very likeable young man and I’m happy he’s good company for you.” She resumed her track to the kitchen, but felt she had had a knife thrust deep into her heart. An icy shiver zigzagged down to her stomach and her features became sharp with dread. Could he be the one … if not the one, the start?

  Her heart was heavy, her feet dragged. She had known she would have to face this one day, but not this soon. She had felt so positive about their move to Driftwood. If they had stayed in town, would it have been different? She couldn’t keep her to herself forever. She replayed Jellie’s last words in her head. She was growing up, becoming her own person. This was all good. As she continued to search through the packages, she was steadily losing her appetite and the tears she had tried to deny earlier, began to smart her eyes. She had told herself it was what she wanted for Jells – was it really? With a loving commitment it is. You have no right to possess … only to care-for and nurture.

  She stood at the doorway to the living room locked in the moment, as overwhelming desire engulfed her and kept her rooted to the spot, the bowl of noodles forgotten in her hand. She took in the scene; the girl leaning on one arm, looking into the flickering flames that danced around the logs, lost in thought. She was so innocently alluring, her appeal so seductive. Her heart ached all over again as she felt torn apart by the thought of what could be her imminent loss. With the piercing finality of the last blare of the hunter’s horn, she knew the threat to her future had arrived.

  Stendhal had said: ‘Beauty is the promise of happiness’, and now she was about to lose that promise; lose the beauty in this girl who awaited her return. She removed the bowl from the microwave, deep in introspection, but smiled into the beloved face as Jellie looked up at her approach, then she joined her before the fire’s glow. In her heart she knew there were no choices. She could not press the ‘reset’ button. She had to let her go – but oh, how it hurt.

  “You know what, Jells? I think it’s time you learned to drive.” She swirled a forkful of noodles and looked across inquiringly.

  Jellie’s face lit up. “Do you think I could Mal?”

  “I’m sure of it. There’s a good driving school in town and you can get lots of practise runs round here, in the Festiva.”

  “You could teach me?” Her eager face told the story.

  “Better to have proper lessons Pumpkin, then you can try out what you’ve learned on me.” Mal knew the pitfalls that lay down that road. “Do you remember when you had a go before? You finished up not very happy at all.”

  “Oh yes I do. But that was a totally different time.” She laughed at the recollection. “I was a disdainful and probably arrogant, thorn in your side.” Her enthusiastic face beamed into hers. “All right, lessons it is.”

  “There will be one problem. You have to have a birth certificate and I’m not sure how we get around that, but I’ll check with the Tribunal. Once we’re over that hurdle you can start. When you have your license, then we can look for your very own set of wheels. How does that sound?”

  “Oh Mal, that would be perfect. Then I could come and go as I please. Don’t get me wrong. I do love it here, but to be able to pop into the village when I need something … oh, that will be tremendous.”

  They continued their lively speculations until it was time for bed. By then Mal had been able to reconcile herself to the inevitable and undeniably, Jellie was feeling positively elated about her future.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Gradually winter gave way to the insistence of spring and days at Driftwood Acres became more hectic. More horses grazed the paddocks and almost daily there were more inquiries. Jellie was in her element, finding her feet and beginning to love the regular interactions with her young pupils. The renewed contact with horses had wrought wonders. Close affinity with these noble beasts tapped once again into her unspoken, animal self. That wilder, more elemental Nigella was given freedom to be. The vital, primary essence that was her flew, liberated to express itself in their company, a release she couldn’t find with humans.

  By word of mouth aspiring young riders kept turning up for lessons. The children, mostly girls, but she had two older boys, brought Jellie out of herself like no others. She had a natural flare for getting across to these youngsters the best way of obtaining their mount’s co-operation. She possessed skills which she loved to impart and found the whole process rewarding and fulfilling. She was not satisfied with teaching them just to sit and look right; she wanted her young charges to develop a respect for their horse. In addition, she held the well-being of rider and horse as paramount and to this end coached the juniors in horse-leading and general self-discipline around animals. Being aware of their body language ensured a safer environment for all involved and actually enhanced the joy of riding. The more advanced pupils co-operated in teaching their mount to pass through openings, as in different sized gateways. She introduced them to riding in pairs.

  It became necessary to purchase ponies for the stables, for the tots who didn’t yet know if they wanted to ride. Jellie was keen to tailor lessons to the client’s ability and confidence level. This meant the kids were always comfortable with her and as a consequence, they gave her their love and the time they spent in the practice ring was special. Even the cry-babies she won over. Mal enjoyed watching her with the little ones, she was such a natural.

  By now they both had their own mount, for old time’s sake re-named Burrow and Talbot. Burrow was a thoroughbred mare, six years’ old, chocolate brown with a full-length, white blaze and all four fetlocks pure white. She was a real beauty with the softest, most velvety of muzzles. Talbot was a thoroughbred/quarter horse cross gelding, seven years’ old. His coat was a golden tan with black mane and tail, standing at fifteen hands. As they built up their stock however, a point was made of riding all the animals, important as it was, to have a working knowledge of the school horses.

  Jellie had been studying during the winter months to obtain her instructor’s accreditation with horseridingcoach.com, but still she had weekly lessons. She was committed to improving her riding skills and had taken a keen interest in dressage. This was a long-term goal; a skill she hoped she and Burrow would develop between them over time. For now she was working on her prelim. level and loving it.

  Mal was content to be supportive and not interested in more than that. In her role as general manager she was responsible for the overall operation of the business and for ensuring a high standard of safety at all times. This was not however, to detract from the client experience at Driftwood Acres, which they wanted to be filled with fun and satisfaction. Both had come to realise with the growing success of the school, they would need to invest in a covered arena. They already
had a seven metre, round yard for warming up and cooling down, plus ground work. The undercover should be some sort of open, sand area where they could not only conduct classes but, when the time came, mount gymkhanas. Even, they dreamed of holding horsemanship clinics and conceivably presenting dressage displays. An anticipated bonus would be the extension of their instruction season, possibly increased by up to four weeks.

  Mal had talked at the hospital to her co-workers and had been referred to Birmingham Steel Fabricators as the best people for her needs. This had proved an excellent lead. The firm had great depth of experience in all types of structural engineering and erection. She wanted a wide span, if feasible 60m x 20m, enough that one day they could incorporate spectator seating. It was important that the roof over the arena be absolutely secure and safe. Jellie was apprehensive. The idea of such a structure not collapsing was too hard to get her head around.

  In addition, Mal felt the time had come to hire some riding school assistants, locals who probably had day jobs that did not involve horses. She proposed advertising for people who would like to turn their hobby or passion for horses into some form of paid employment. She believed dedicated horse people like these would be exactly right for what they were trying to achieve at Driftwood. At first Jellie had been unsure, but with this new-found assertiveness, she was coming to understand the extent of her capabilities and therefore the need to be released in some part, from the routine work. The advertisement would be in Saturday’s Gazette and she might get her first taste of interviewing as soon as tomorrow. More apprehension! They could start the assessment by taking the prospective employee on a tour of the facilities. That completed then they could begin the formal questioning.

  Saturday the phone ran hot and that afternoon saw them interviewing two aspiring riding instructors with three more lined up for Sunday. They had Delinda Knobel and EJ Ramsay arrive at the same time. Delinda was the same age as Jellie and had been riding since she was five. By thirteen years of age she had begun competing in hacking and Three-Day Eventing, so although still young, she was old in experience. Jellie warmed to her, but Mal was concerned with the lack of exposure to actual instruction. As to that, Delinda was currently working toward her certificate with Horse Safety UK. For now, Mal considered her an excellent candidate for assistant stable manager, with positive prospects to move up to riding instructor once she had her certification.

  EJ was a very different proposition. His background lay with the racing industry. He was in his mid-forties and although he still loved horses, he was over the pre-dawn to midnight hours that the trade demanded of a groom. He was experienced in all aspects of the successful running of a racing stable, from hot-walker to exercise rider. His manner was slow, but he struck Mal as a reliable asset. Jellie was hesitant. She could see herself working with someone like Delinda – but EJ? There were no decisions to be made yet. They would see what tomorrow would bring.

  Nessa Dorritt was a shoe-in. She had been a riding school assistant. Of a motherly disposition, she nonetheless exuded a staunch dependability in her craft. Her energy and enthusiasm gave her the skill to start off nervous beginners and advance the experienced ones. They both wanted her, but had to say they would get back.

  Of the remaining two, only Starr Keoghan had any chance. She was a local like Delinda. Her day-time work was at a kindergarten, so her hours were flexible from then on. The bonus with Starr was her competence with children. Still only young herself, her rapport with the younger clients would make her a perfect assistant. Preparing the horses for lessons, grooming and tacking up, helping with feeding and mucking out, it was all good to her.

  That night they sat in the office and went through the resumés with care, in the end opting for experience. EJ was to be their all-round odd-job man, Nessa of course, and Starr to come in part-time, after school and on weekends. They decided to wait on Delinda until she had gained her certificate.

  They retired that night feeling well satisfied. Jellie would talk it over with Connor in the week, to set up contracts and make sure their work-place health and safety regulations were all in order. Mal was now resigned to Con’s constant presence at Driftwood. She didn’t know how it had happened, but over time, he seemed to have engineered it to make himself indispensable to the smooth running of their operation. Oh, she knew they had a lot to learn and business had steadily been picking up; there were always accounts, but he had managed to find something to do, even on weekends. Still there was no denying it, he was a great help to Jellie. She had learned lots under his tutelage and it was obvious she did enjoy his company. Many were the times she had seen them in the office, their heads together, laughing over something. She recalled an occasion when Jellie was having a wonderful ‘virtual’ experience; they were scrolling through the Prado Art Gallery in Madrid, relishing all the masterworks on view. Her eyes had been alight with wonder and her spirits high.

  More and more she was feeling side-lined, but she had to get herself squared off to this new reality. She didn’t want Jellie to develop into contested terrain, fought over with undue brutality. If it should be that Con would steal her heart, then he did seem to be someone capable of looking after her – his weekends never passed him by, wasted. Still, sometimes, there was this feeling almost too good to be true. She couldn’t put her finger on it, just a vague uneasiness at the edge of her mind – was he covering something up? She was not aware of it when he was with Jellie. No, it was his interaction with her that was bothersome and unsettling, only saying what he thought she wanted to hear.

  Will the real Connor please stand up!

  Con’s master plan was working out very well. He knew the exact extent of Nigella’s investments and they were growing handsomely. He viewed the world as his private vending machine, one where he didn’t have to pay for the privilege of its use. His grandiose opinion of himself made him as ruthless in life as he was in business. Not a violent man, but he lacked true empathy. Con was a virtuoso at turning on the charm, but in truth, he considered people as objects; his to exploit and manipulate. He could read the signs that he was getting closer to Nigella. However, he had expected to have made more progress by now, at least on the intimacy front. There had not even been a kiss. He couldn’t understand why she hadn’t spontaneously made the move herself. That was all he was waiting for. Perhaps it was time to prod things along. Still, he had Miley in the wings, she was cool, but he wanted more.

  * * *

  Having made their selection and thinking this was the end of the matter one more applicant appeared on the Driftwood horizon. He was younger than EJ, but still well experienced, a seasoned Eventing competitor. Show jumping was his expertise. This was the only side of their operation that was not accounted for. Jellie hadn’t thought to develop this aspect, too lacking in confidence to take on such a challenge. Tyson Speight had all the right stuff and like Nessa, was relatively new to the district. He had checked out the other schools, but they were too set in their grooves. He oozed the confidence Jellie lacked and had all the knowledge and skills required to make a go of it – with Miss Patchford’s money of course. Here was the sticking point. Con believed he was too much of a financial risk. Jellie wanted to do it. She thought Tyson was a God-send and perfect for the proposition.

  Con’s patience came close to splitting then his anger finally broke through. “For pity’s sake Nigella, don’t be so bloody ridiculous! You’ve got years yet to build up the jumping side. What’s the rush?” ’Til now he had kept his explosive temper well hidden, but this provocation saw him lose control. His face became unyielding; contorted and unadorned. The polish and smoothness of urbanity were gone. He had been at the stables the day Speight came for his interview and discerned in him someone Nigella would find extremely attractive. He himself had no horsemanship. This fellow had all the skills – and the good looks. Not conventionally handsome his was a healthy, rugged, out-doors appeal and a knock-out physique to go with it. All that riding, he had thought resentfully.

>   His long legs were sheathed in tight-fitting jeans, tucked into brown riding boots. His wide shoulders were shown off to advantage in the sleeveless, fleece-lined jacket he wore unbuttoned, exposing a broad expanse of chest covered by an open-necked, plaid shirt. Bright, hazel eyes above a sharply ridged nose had looked with keen perception at the Driftwood Acres set-up. It had been obvious he had liked what he saw. Bear-headed, the biting wind had appeared not to touch him as it romped through his nut-brown hair, the reddish tints accenting his spirited energy. All in all he presented as heartily robust, capable of turning his hand to anything he might feel inclined to take on.

  Mal liked Tysons’s style. With her grounding in horses in the Australian outback, she could see where he was coming from. Although she had never thought of taking on jumping, her spirits lifted at the prospect. This would be more in her line and she liked the idea of tackling something different especially now the gym was no longer an option. Once this took off, she would be sure to be one of his first novices. She had always felt comfortable in male company and was recognising that this aspect had been missing; that gruff camaraderie she had taken for granted with Gavin’s mates. They had shared experiences and jokes; it had all been good fun. She and Tyson were like-minded; spoke the same language from the ‘get go’. She couldn’t understand Con’s vehemence. She was with Jellie, this was the break they should grab. To have someone with his training and proficiency turn up on their doorstep –awesome!

  Connor was forced to concede, although reluctantly. He pointed out that they had not actually seen him do any of this stuff. It was all on paper. Nonetheless, the following week Tyson joined their team. He was in construction for his day job, allowing him weekends only, but he fitted well into their schedules and related pleasantly with the other members. When he was not with Jellie or Nessa, he and Mal would get their thinking caps on, working out the details for the jumping program and its requirements. She found herself re-energised; able to let go of her concerns over Con and Jellie. The knot of plaguing torment which seemed to accompany her everywhere would temporarily untangle, allowing a welcome release. Certainly, her head appreciated the break. That green-eyed goddess, whose spirit sapping potency could leave her feeling so drained, would be held at arms’ length, even if only temporarily.