Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage (27 page)

‘Did he?' I notice his brow furrow and his hands clench. ‘He's such a—'

‘It's all right. I turned him down. I didn't think you'd care anyway.'

‘Of course I care. He's my brother and he's being disloyal, hitting on you so soon after … well, you know what I'm talking about. I know what he's like, and the last thing I want is for you to get hurt.' He lowers his voice. ‘He knows how I feel about you.'

‘As a friend,' I say, reminding him of our agreement. ‘Please don't have a go at him. I never had any intention of accepting his offer.'

‘Okay. I'll try to pretend it didn't happen.'

‘Thank you.'

‘In the spirit of friendship, why don't you stay to watch Maisie ride? She'd love that. Can I tempt you? We can have tea together later.' He smiles softly. ‘It's all right. I haven't got any ulterior motive for asking you round to the cottage. I could use some adult company for a while.' He tips his head to one side. ‘I have fish fingers and chocolate-chip ice cream. Oh-mi-God, I'm such a kid. I can go and get something more sophisticated in town.'

I can feel myself melting at the thought as he tries to draw me back in, but it's no use. The core of resistance deep inside me remains intact. I won't go back to Cherry Tree Cottage. When I'm on the yard, I can stay strong, but I'm afraid that if I spend the evening with him, I'll weaken.

‘It's all right, thanks, Louise is expecting me back for dinner, but I'll stay for a while to watch Maisie ride. I'd like to see how she's getting on with Paddington. I'll start getting him ready if you like.'

‘We'll do it together. I'm under control,' he adds, but the glint in his eye and the depth of his breathing suggests that perhaps he is not. It confirms that I'm making the right decision. It's impossible for us to be ‘just friends'.

I stay to watch Maisie ride the pony. Having changed out of her school uniform into a pink T-shirt, pink-and-navy spotted jodhpurs, hat and boots, she flaps her legs against the saddle as she bosses Paddington around the arena, asking him to trot and canter. Paddington breaks wind every time he changes gait, making her burst out laughing. Robbie and I set up a course of four jumps made from colourful plastic wings and stripy poles.

Maisie sets out at a canter, jumping them one by one. Paddington appears to be enjoying himself.

‘Put them up, Daddy,' Maisie calls as she pulls the pony up for a breather.

‘They're fine at this height,' Robbie calls back. ‘Remember what Nanny said about pride coming before a fall …'

‘Yeah, yeah,' she says wearily.

‘Where are you getting this attitude from? School? You're eight years old, not eighteen.' Robbie softens. ‘I'll put the red one up.'

I put the jump up, just a couple of inches. Maisie sets off at full speed. Paddington breaks wind, not once but twice, and whizzes over the jump and off to the far side of the arena, losing his rider along the way. Maisie tumbles on to the sand, landing on her knees.

‘Uh oh,' Robbie says, running across to her as Paddington ambles back, drops his head and nudges her as if to say sorry. ‘How did that happen?'

Maisie grins. ‘I farted.'

‘Ha ha! Very funny.'

‘I did.'

‘How did that scare him when he farts all the time?' Robbie laughs. We're all laughing.

‘Daddy, don't say that word. Nanny's coming,' Maisie says. ‘She says it's rude.'

‘What's been going on here?' Sally Ann asks as she turns up at the gate. ‘You're too young to start doing stunts.'

‘It wasn't planned exactly,' Robbie explains, hanging on to Paddington's reins with one hand and helping his daughter up with the other.

‘I can't believe that I still worry about you all,' Sally Ann says. She asks me how I am and for my opinion of Nelson's feet before waiting with us to watch Robbie drop Maisie back into the saddle.

‘How many times have you fallen off?' he asks her.

‘Three,' she says, grinning and showing off a new gap where she's lost another of her baby teeth.

‘So you have some way to go until you can call yourself a proper rider,' Sally Ann joins in.

‘Four more falls to go,' Robbie says.

Maisie's face crumples and she bursts into tears. Paddington turns his head and nudges her foot.

‘I don't want to fall off again,' she wails. ‘It isn't very nice.'

‘Nothing that's worth having comes easy,' Robbie says, looking at me. ‘Go on. Take Paddington over the jumps once more and then we'll call it a day.'

Sally Ann covers her eyes as Maisie kicks Paddington into action, turning him from donkey to racehorse in less than two seconds. He flies over the jumps and Maisie stays with him as he gallops back to the gate and slides to an abrupt halt, flinging his rider over his shoulder and towards the ground for a second time. On this occasion, Robbie catches her by the arm, slowing her fall so that she lands on her feet. I'm expecting her to cry at the indignity of coming off twice in less than five minutes, but she gives Paddington a pat, and says, ‘That's four times.' She counts back from seven on her fingers. ‘Three more to go. Yay!' She looks up at Robbie. ‘How many times have you fallen off? Fifteen times?'

‘At least twenty.'

‘Did you ever hurt yourself?'

‘I broke my collarbone once, but most of the time I bounced.'

‘What about you, Flick?' She turns to me.

‘I'm afraid I've lost count. I haven't broken any bones, although I did bump my head and have to spend a night in hospital with concussion. I was wearing a hat, but I fell really hard against a cross-country fence.'

‘Were you riding Rafa?' Maisie asks.

‘No, I had another pony then, a chestnut one like Paddington, but without the white bits. He was called Mister.'

‘Mister what?' Robbie says.

‘Just Mister.'

Maisie is frowning as the information sinks in. ‘That's weird,' she says, and I sense that I've gone down in her estimation even further than when I turned down her invitation to join her and her dad out riding the other day.

Robbie helps her back on for a second time and she rides Paddington quietly around the arena.

‘I think the pony's found his feet,' he says.

‘I hope he isn't going to turn out to be difficult,' I say.

‘He behaves perfectly with Ashley. He's just begun to play Maisie up because she's started to get very bossy. He's good for her.'

‘As long as he doesn't frighten her,' Sally Ann says.

‘She's fearless, like her dad,' Robbie smiles.

‘I'd better get going,' I say. ‘If there's any problem with Nelson's new shoes, let me know.'

‘Thanks, Flick,' he says warmly. ‘I appreciate it.'

I wave goodbye to Maisie and bid farewell to Sally Ann. I make my way back to the truck and head back to the B&B.

Whatever I'm doing, even when I'm driving, thoughts of Robbie continue to drift into my mind, precious memories of the day he gave me the lesson in trick riding, the satisfaction I felt, having managed to get shoes on Diva, the joy I felt seeing Maisie's face when she first met Paddington. And – I bite my lip – the taste of his kisses and his tender touch as he made love to me. I swallow hard against rising grief. It's ridiculous. It was never supposed to be anything more than a casual fling. I had no expectations beyond friendship and a bit of fun. So why am I so upset? Why – after what happened, or didn't happen with Kerry – am I still obsessing over Robbie Salterton?

I miss him. I miss his warmth, friendship and humour. I could drop by to see him while I'm hacking out. I could text or call him and invite him to join me, but I wouldn't because, knowing he's seen me naked and exposed, not just physically, but emotionally, it feels awkward. He made me feel wanted, desired, beautiful and feminine. I can't pretend I have no feelings for him and go back to the way we were. It's impossible.

It's been a couple of days since I last saw Robbie. I texted him to ask how Nelson was with the new shoes and pads, and he replied that he was about the same, but there was no personal chat. I keep telling myself that I'm all right about it. When I ride past Cherry Tree Cottage, the tulips are blooming bright red and yellow, but ordinary everyday life has lost its colour.

I keep busy with work, and on Thursday, having finished an hour earlier than I anticipated, I drive back to Furzeworthy. I've been to Delphi's where I've shod three of her big dressage horses, prima donnas who barely gave me a glance, as though I was the Saturday girl in a shoe shop. The riding school ponies stood quietly with their heads down and eyes closed in the sun, and the yard's smelly tomcat looked on.

I'm thirsty, and desperate to shower away the scent of sweaty horse. After that, I have plans to raid Louise's fridge before I take Rafa out for another hack because when the going gets tough, the tough get riding.

Back at Wisteria House, I park outside the forge alongside a white Range Rover. Louise's MPV is missing, but I remember her saying that she'd be out. The sports car is under cover.

Rafa puts his head over the stable door and whinnies.

‘We'll go out soon,' I tell him as I check his water and hay.

I enter the house around the back and push the kitchen door open. There's no one around, which is good because, although I'm welcome, it still feels a bit strange helping myself. I raid the fridge for couscous salad, ham and a carton of fruit juice. As I close the fridge door, I hear Mel's voice coming from the living room. He's talking to someone, but I don't suppose it will matter if I interrupt him for a minute – I could do with having a word with him about a horse he's been managing with the vet.

I bang a jar of mayonnaise on the table to warn him of my presence and move through the open door.

‘Hi.' Oh no … ‘I'm sorry,' I say, reversing in haste, but I'm not sorry for catching them out. I'm sad for Louise because her philandering husband, who is supposed to be recuperating from spinal surgery, is sitting on the sofa with his trousers down around his ankles and a semi-naked woman riding astride him. If she were on her horse, she'd be doing the rising trot, up and down. She screams as she pulls her blouse closed and grabs a cushion to cover her modesty, except that the cushion is quite small and she isn't sure which part of her modesty to cover.

‘Oh Mel, you said … You said there was nobody home.' She's almost in tears.

‘Gina, I almost didn't recognise you without your jodhpurs on,' I say harshly, my cheeks hot.

Mel pulls her close and she buries her face in his hairy chest.

‘You're back earlier than I expected,' he mumbles. ‘Gina came round to give me a massage.'

‘Look, I don't care what she came here for. I'll leave you … er … to it.' I swear under my breath. All that lazing around with his feet up while Louise half kills herself doing the cooking, housework and childcare. It's outrageous. Disgusting. He's married and a dad. How could he? The trouble is, I know from experience that some men don't have any problem with declaring their love for two women at the same time.

Picking up my spoils from the kitchen table, and rather put off my food, I head for my room where I take some time to process my thoughts about what I've just seen. When I look back at the plate, the food has gone, and all I'm left with is the slightly bitter flavour of charred peppers. I wish I could rewind the recent events, but you can't just un-see something like that.

My instinct is to tell Louise straight away, to enlighten her about what a prick her beloved husband is, but she isn't here so it will have to wait. I have a quick shower to cool down. I change into my jodhs and a clean T-shirt before going to ride Rafa, by which time the Range Rover has gone.

I'm brushing Rafa's tail, untangling the knots with my fingers, when a shadow falls across my shoulder. I turn to find Mel, holding his stick in one hand and resting his fist in the small of his back. I'm not inclined to respond with sympathy.

‘I'm sorry about earlier,' he says. ‘You won't say anything to Lou, will you?'

‘I'm not promising anything. Louise has been great. She's a friend.'

‘In that case, be a good friend and keep your mouth shut.' His complexion appears pale beneath his tan. ‘The last thing I want is for her to get hurt.'

‘It's a bit late to start considering her feelings, isn't it? Really, Mel. Do you think I was born yesterday?' I release Rafa's tail. The hair fans out around his hocks. ‘I know you shoe her horse for nothing. I'm not stupid.'

‘I love my wife and my son. It would break Lou's heart if she ever found out. Don't you have a conscience?'

‘Don't make me laugh!' I say with sarcasm.

‘What good would it do if she knew?' He tries another tack.

‘I'd want to know, if I were her, so I could make a choice: to be with a man who didn't love me and respect me enough to keep it in his trousers, or move on, no matter how painful it was, to find someone who adored me so much he'd never entertain shagging another woman.'

‘You sound like one of those soppy romance novels my wife reads. One man for one woman for the happy-ever-after.' He groans. ‘Well, take it from me, life isn't like that.'

‘You make me feel sick,' I counter. ‘Whether or not you feel the urge to stray –' an image of the tomcat at Delphi's comes into my mind as I glare at him – ‘isn't the point. If you're committed to someone, you don't act on it. It's a measure of a decent human being.'

‘You don't understand what it's like. A man has needs.'

‘Oh, cut the crap.'

‘I love Lou.' He is livid with me or, maybe, just maybe, he's angry with himself.