Finding Hope at Hillside Farm

by Rachael Lucas

  ‘We’re going to get Echo now, Hope.’

  Hope stiffened and looked up at him for confirmation. He nodded, hoping it was encouragingly, and crossed his fingers behind his back. He really wanted this to work. But Ella had explained that all the therapy work they’d done so far had been with Muffin, and this was a new level.

  ‘I tell you what, while we’re waiting, why don’t you hop on Muffin for a little ride around.’

  ‘Without a saddle?’

  ‘Yes.’ Ella helped her onto his back. ‘You and Muffin are good at talking to each other. You’ll feel him moving underneath you. Do you see?’ Muffin shifted sideways as Ella lifted a finger and Hope’s face registered surprise.

  ‘It’s a bit wobbly.’

  He watched Ella lay a hand on the side of her leg, steadying her. Hope sat up straight, gaining confidence and finding her balance.

  ‘Can we go round?’

  ‘Of course.’ Ella lifted up the strap that hung around the pony’s neck. ‘Hold onto this, or you can hold onto Muffin’s mane.’

  Hope gave a little nod, her face serious. He watched the two of them as they chatted and laughed all the way around the perimeter of the school.

  By the time they’d come back round, Charlotte had returned with the much bigger Echo. He came straight over and leaned over the wooden barrier, nudging Harry for treats.

  ‘I haven’t got anything, old boy.’

  ‘He’s a greedy sod,’ said Charlotte, laughing.

  Ella helped Hope to slide off Muffin’s back and passed the lead rope to Charlotte. Once the pony had been led out through the door, Ella let Echo’s lead rein loose so he was able to move about freely. It was surprising to see the difference. Hope stood, biting her lip, looking at Echo through a curtain of hair. He regarded her through his forelock, echoing her.

  ‘What do you think Echo is thinking?’ Ella said gently to Hope.

  ‘I think he’s wondering where Muffin’s gone.’

  ‘How do you think that feels?’

  Hope scuffed the surface of the arena with her toe before she spoke. ‘I think he might be a bit cross.’

  ‘A bit cross,’ Ella echoed.

  ‘I think he’s missing Muffin.’ Hope’s little chin lifted then, and she looked at Echo for a moment. He took a cautious step towards her.

  ‘He looks very nice after you brushed him with Charlotte, doesn’t he?’

  Hope nodded. ‘He’s got soft hair on his legs.’ She took a couple of steps forward and put her hand out. Echo reached forward, stretching his neck, and sniffed her gently. ‘His whiskers are tickly.’ She giggled.

  They carried on in this vein for another ten minutes or so before Charlotte came back to collect Echo, the hour being up.

  ‘Can I help you take him back?’ Hope was eager.

  Charlotte looked over at Ella, who was rolling up the long lead rein they’d used earlier. Ella nodded in Harry’s direction. ‘If it’s OK with you?’

  He agreed with a smile, and stood watching as together they led Echo out of the ring. Then he left the school and headed for the little waiting room, money in hand. Before long Hope and Ella appeared there too.

  ‘Harry, can I go and help Charlotte put the food in the buckets?’

  ‘If it’s OK with Ella.’ They were so cautious with each other, skirting around politely, careful not to cross the line at any moment.

  ‘Fine by me.’

  He handed over the money and pocketed the change she gave back. Her hand touched his, and he had to stop himself from jumping backwards at the heat of her fingers on his icy cold hands.

  ‘I’ll just wait here until she’s done.’

  ‘Do you want a coffee?’

  ‘If it’s OK.’

  Ella rolled her eyes then, and laughed. ‘Of course it’s OK. That’s what the machine is for. At least when I remember to buy refills, that is.’

  ‘So.’

  ‘Yes.’

  She looked at him over the top of her mug.

  Ella took a deep breath.

  ‘Look. We might as well get this out in the open now. Then we can get on with what we’re supposed to be doing.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Helping Hope.’

  He looked down, shifting his mug so the handle aligned with the edge of the desk. ‘Yes, of course.’ He nodded.

  ‘A lot of water has gone under the bridge since – before.’ Ella looked at him steadily. One of the dogs padded into the room and started drinking noisily from the water bowl, and she shook her head, laughing. ‘Kind of hard to have a serious conversation with a spaniel in the room.’

  Sensing she was being talked about, Cleo made her way over and laid her head on Harry’s lap. He ran a hand down her silky ears.

  ‘We’re not the same people we were before,’ Harry agreed. ‘I mean, I’ve got Hope.’

  ‘And I’ve got this place.’ Ella nodded.

  He remembered the connection and how she’d ended up here. It felt too intimate to ask her when she’d come back to Bron’s place – but looking at the photograph stuck on the pinboard of Ella and Bron, arm in arm, squinting into the camera on a sunny summer day, he wondered what had happened. Should he ask?

  Ella followed his gaze.

  ‘She’s not dead,’ she said drily. ‘If that’s what you were wondering.’

  ‘I wasn’t.’ He was.

  ‘She’s in Australia, discovering herself. And staying with her sister.’

  ‘Discovering herself?’

  ‘Bron’s spent all her life here. I think she’s having a sort of delayed gap year, enjoying making new friends, seeing new sights.’

  ‘I met people like that when I was travelling.’ He leaned forward, putting his chin in his hand and looking at her. He liked the way she echoed his movements, her eyebrows raised in question.

  ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘Anywhere I could.’ He hoped they weren’t straying onto dangerous ground. ‘After –’ He stopped.

  ‘Look, if I’m working with Hope and you’re living down the lane, we’ll have to find a way to communicate.’ She looked at him directly, her hazel eyes steady. ‘I know I said it the other day, but I’m sorry. I treated you terribly, and I shouldn’t have. It wasn’t fair, and I wish I could take back what I said.’

  He shook his head. ‘And I’m sorry for what happened.’

  ‘OK.’ She laughed briefly, which surprised him. ‘It’s taken a lot of therapy to get to that place,’ she explained, before adding, ‘I always thought I’d have to just let it go. I never thought you’d turn up on my doorstep and let me have closure. It’s not the way things happen, as a rule.’

  ‘I think the fact that I ended up on your doorstep might’ve been a certain small someone giving us a nudge,’ Harry said. She went slightly pink then, and he cleared his throat and drank some more coffee. There was another silence then.

  ‘Anyway.’

  ‘Anyway. You were saying?’

  ‘Travelling. Colombia, Costa Rica, Mexico. I saw the Panama Canal in action – it’s huge. And then I went all over Australia.’

  ‘Did you take a gap year or something?’

  ‘No, I just did contracting work for a while. Saved up a load of money, and my parents gifted me some as well; I took a few months off, travelled until it ran out.’

  ‘And then you met Sarah?’

  ‘Yes. Well, then mum died, and I met Sarah. On the same day, weirdly enough. They sort of adopted me, and Jenny and Lou were so kind and welcoming, and Hope was so sweet. It just seemed like it was meant to happen.’

  A nerve in her jaw twitched slightly and she swallowed.

  ‘That’s lovely.’

  ‘And then Sarah got sick, and – well, here we are.’

  He realized that he’d been talking constantly about himself, and Ella hadn’t given anything away.

  ‘And you?’

  ‘I didn’t do anything.’

  He frowned and lifted an arm, indicating the
stable yard, and the fields which swept down the valley outside the window. ‘All this?’

  ‘I ran away. I came here, I hid in Bron’s cottage, and I worked with the horses. Eventually I trained as an equine therapist. I spent my inheritance from Dad on the indoor arena and sorting out the stables.’

  ‘It’s pretty amazing, Ella.’

  She ducked her head. ‘Thanks.’

  He was relieved that Hope and Charlotte reappeared, just at the point where the silence between them was growing unmanageable.

  Later, as he was walking back down the lane with a worn-out Hope, she looked up at him.

  ‘She’s nice, Ella, isn’t she?’

  ‘She is, darling, yes.’

  ‘You’re friends.’

  He wouldn’t go that far, yet. But he realized, surprising himself as he spoke – ‘I’d like to hope we might be, yes.’

  ‘Good. Then we can go to the stables lots and lots.’

  Chapter Thirty

  Ella

  ‘I can’t believe you ducked out of New Year’s Eve.’ Lissa cocked an eyebrow at Ella.

  ‘Here you go, love,’ said the barman, sliding two sets of cutlery rolled in paper napkins across their table. ‘Grub won’t be long.’

  The Lion was packed out. Alan from the post office waved at them from the bar, lifting his drink in greeting. Sally was behind the bar, looking unruffled as ever despite the crowds. It seemed like everyone had decided to cheer up the most depressing week of the year – the first week of a grey, wet January – with dinner out.

  Lissa sat back against the green leather of the little booth and lifted her chin to look at Ella appraisingly. ‘So what’s the story?’

  ‘It’s nothing, really.’ Ella poured her Indian beer from the bottle into the glass, watching as it foamed up and spilled over the edge. She caught the foam with a finger and licked it away. It tasted metallic.

  ‘Let me get this straight. I wake up half-cut on my mam’s sofa on Christmas Day to find everyone singing ‘Do You Want to Build a Snowman’ at the telly, and there’s a text message saying SOS.’

  Ella nodded. ‘False alarm.’

  ‘Right.’ Lissa rubbed her forehead. ‘And the second get me out of here was another one? And when I text asking what’s the story, you’re all “oh it was nothing, everything’s OK . . .”’

  Ella pulled a face.

  ‘And then you’re “ill” on New Year’s, but well enough to go running two days later?’ Lissa snorted. ‘Come on, spill. Something’s going on . . . or is it someone?’

  Ella sat back against the cushioned leather. ‘OK. You’re not going to believe this, but . . .’

  ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And is he still hot?’

  ‘Lissa!’

  ‘All right, someone had to ask it. And it was probably going to be me, realistically speaking. I’ve seen the photo, remember. D’you reckon he’ll be doing the school run? I can check him out.’

  ‘He’s my ex-husband.’

  ‘Shut up.’ Lissa tore off a piece of naan bread and wiped her plate with it. She’d wolfed down her chicken jalfrezi while Ella had been filling her in, and Ella’s plate was pretty much untouched.

  ‘I’m not saying I’m after him, I’m just curious to know what the Great Love of your Life looks like in person. You going to eat that?’

  ‘He’s no such thing,’ Ella protested. ‘And yes, I am.’

  ‘Right then, get on with it, or I’ll nick it.’ She reached over as if to demonstrate and pinched a pakora from the edge of Ella’s plate.

  Ella took a mouthful of the cooling food and realized that she wasn’t even remotely hungry. She hadn’t been, if she was honest with herself, for most of the week. Harry had popped up almost every day, because Hope wanted to see the horses. She’d been so happy with Hope’s progress, and seeing how well she was getting on with Charlotte, that Ella had put her reservations to one side, and despite herself, she’d found it was surprisingly un-awkward having him around, considering.

  ‘Oh hello!’

  The hand dryer had given up the ghost completely, so she was wiping her wet hands on her jeans when she walked straight into Lou.

  Lou touched the collar of his polo shirt – an old habit, Ella guessed, from years of working in a shirt and tie. He looked relaxed and happy.

  ‘Nice to see you. Curry night seems to be a popular one. We should have booked a table.’

  ‘I bet they’ll squeeze you in,’ Ella said, looking over her shoulder. Lissa was peering, eyebrows raised in interest.

  ‘The woman behind the bar says if we wait ten minutes, that family over there are going.’ Jenny appeared, putting her bag over her shoulder.

  ‘Is it date night?’ Ella said, kissing Jenny hello. She smelled of expensive perfume and hairspray, her ash blonde hair neatly blow-dried. Ella felt scruffy by comparison, dressed in her usual skinny jeans and a grey shirt she’d picked up from the top of the washing basket.

  ‘Funny you should say that,’ Jenny exchanged glances with Lou. ‘What are you doing, have you eaten already?’

  ‘I’m just with a friend over there,’ Ella said, motioning to Lissa. ‘We’ve had dinner already.’

  ‘Oh that’s a shame,’ Jenny said. ‘You could have joined us.’ Just then the waiter came over to tell Jenny her table was ready. Ella waved them goodbye and headed back to the bar.

  ‘So,’ Lissa was nothing if not persistent. ‘What’s he like, your Harry?’

  ‘He is not my Harry. In fact, as far as I can gather, there’s someone in the background back in Norwich.’

  She’d heard enough about Holly to piece together a picture of her – Harry hadn’t mentioned her much apart from in passing, but Jenny and Hope had talked about her often enough that Ella had worked out there was something going on, even if they hadn’t.

  ‘All right, fine. Not your Harry. What does he do?’

  ‘Business consultancy or something. One of those jobs that sounds good but you’ve no real idea what they actually do.’

  ‘What did he do when you were together?’

  ‘He was working for a social media company.’

  ‘Bit of a weird leap. Mind you, business consultant. He must be loaded.’ Lissa waggled her eyebrows hopefully. ‘And he’s single?’

  ‘Lissa.’ Ella fixed her friend with a warning look. ‘Widowed, remember. Hence the lack of mother for Hope.’

  ‘Shit, yeah.’ She looked cast down for a moment – but only a moment. Her face brightened. ‘Still, he’s been widowed for ages. How long is he supposed to be in mourning?’

  ‘Dunno.’ Ella had wondered that herself. Sarah had been gone for five years – longer than she and Harry had been married. And yet he was still living with her parents, seemingly single, and apparently not exactly moving on with his life. Not – she pulled a face to herself – that she was doing a great job of that, either . . .

  ‘So how’s the love life going?’

  Lissa gave a grin. ‘Not too bad.’

  ‘Is that it?’

  ‘Oh Ell, he’s lovely. I keep expecting him to turn into a frog but honestly, I think he’s a – an actual nice man.’

  ‘Get out.’ Ella nudged her with an elbow. ‘Do you think?’

  ‘I know.’ Lissa’s eyebrows shot up briefly. ‘And you know what they say about nice boys . . .’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to know.’

  Lissa burst out laughing. ‘Buy me another drink and I’ll tell you.’

  Later that night, having caught a lift back up the hill from a local farmer, Ella made her way around the yard doing the last checks of the stables. She was slightly regretting that last glass of wine, but she couldn’t go to bed until she knew all the animals were safe for the night. The dogs darted around, disappearing into the darkness out of the pools of light cast by the stable yard floodlights. Horses arched their necks over the doors, hopeful of a last handful of treats or a scratch under the mane. Ella checked each
one, making sure their water buckets were topped up and that they all had some hay in their nets.

  Charlotte was still awake. The light was shining from her bedroom window. Ella wondered if she’d carry on staying there once Bron came back – if Bron came back. On Christmas morning she’d looked so brown and happy – and so much younger. There was a sparkle in her eye that Ella hadn’t seen in a long time, and for the first time she’d allowed herself to contemplate the possibility that her aunt might decide to stay out there for longer than she’d originally planned. Everything seemed to be changing. At least she’d have Charlotte to help.

  She closed Lido’s stable door and looked through the passageway between the barn and the stables. Her gaze drifted, somehow, down the hill. The sky was clouded over, so the stars and moon were hidden, and the darkness was thick and black. At the bottom of the hill she could see the lights of the village glowing softly, and if she looked at the sleeping cottage below she could see a light shining through one of the skylights. Hope was sleeping in there – or more likely, from what she’d gathered, not sleeping. She wondered if Harry was sitting in her bedroom with her, chatting and telling her stories.

  Harry was, in fact, balanced at the end of Hope’s bed, sending some end-of-week emails. The mobile phone reception in the village might be hopeless, but thankfully the broadband was pretty decent. He’d rejigged a few early January meetings – most people clearly feeling the same way as he was, there hadn’t been many objections – and he planned to hang around at home with Hope for a couple of weeks.

  ‘If you don’t mind,’ he’d said to Jenny, as she wrote a shopping list at the kitchen table.

  ‘Mind?’ she’d said. ‘I would be absolutely delighted. Watch out, though, or Lou will have you roped into this Neighbourhood Watch meeting next week. He’s in cahoots with Alan. There are posters, you know.’ She’d laughed.

  Hope was curled up under the covers, her head balanced on an impossible tower of stuffed animals which looked incredibly uncomfortable. She was almost asleep, but asserting every few minutes that she absolutely could not sleep at all. The spaces between assertions grew longer, and the resolution in her voice lessened, and in the end she began to snore, gently.