Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage (31 page)

‘What? As a groom?'

‘I'm going to cover for Kerry's absence until they employ someone permanent.'

‘That's such a waste.'

‘It's only short-term, while I work out what to do next.'

‘Fancy my cousin doing that. Whatever happened to family ties? Mel can't keep his round going without you.'

‘He'll have to find someone else. I feel really bad about letting you down because we're friends, but—'

‘Let's see, shall we,' Louise says bravely. ‘Perhaps you'll feel differently in a day or two.'

‘I won't change my mind.'

‘Okay, if that's how you feel. I'll tell him I tried.' She smiles a small smile. ‘I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Why would you want to come back here when you can stay with Robbie at the cottage?'

‘It does have its attractions, but that isn't my reason for being there. Robbie's lost his groom and his lead horse is lame. He needs all the help he can get if the team is going to have any chance of winning the TV producer over,' I say. ‘Is it all right if I grab my things, only I'm on my lunch break and I don't want to be late back?'

‘Of course. Go on up.' Louise steps aside, allowing me to pass. The hen remains on the banister as I make a couple of trips up and down the stairs to fetch the remainder of my belongings from my room. I clear the rest of Rafa's bits and pieces – except for a couple of leftover bales of hay – from the stables, and close the doors on the Land Rover.

Louise turns up to wish me goodbye.

‘Don't forget us,' she says, giving me a hug.

‘I won't,' I assure her.

Back at Cherry Tree Cottage, Robbie is waiting for me.

‘I didn't give you a key,' he says, fishing about in his pocket. ‘Here's the spare.' He presses it into my palm. ‘Can I help you unload your things?' I open my mouth to explain that there isn't much to do, when he goes on, ‘I should have made that a statement, not a question. Come on, I'll give you a hand.'

We take my personal possessions into the cottage and up the stairs to the spare room, before delivering the rest of the horsey items – including a broom, various rugs and purple buckets – to the yard.

‘What next?' I ask.

‘Kerry used to make up the evening feeds and hay-nets, and do any other odd jobs. Don't look so alarmed – I won't leave it all to you, but I do have to make some phone calls and answer a load of emails first.'

I feel the brief touch of his hand on my back and he's gone, leaving me to muddle along until he joins me later.

Maisie's other grandparents – Carla's mum and dad – drop her off at about four. We're just finishing on the yard. She's over the moon to see her father – laughing, jumping up and down, words spilling from her mouth.

‘Yesterday, when we went to the farm, we saw the donkeys, and I stroked a rabbit and Grandma got butted by a baby goat.'

‘Slow down,' Robbie chuckles. ‘It sounds like you've had a fantastic time.'

‘We had Marmite sandwiches and ice cream and crisps.'

‘All at once?'

‘No, Daddy. Don't be silly.'

‘How was school today?'

‘Boring.' She turns to me, frowning. ‘What's Flick doing here?'

‘She and Rafa are staying with us. Now that Kerry's gone, she's going to help with the horses for a while.'

‘Is Flick your girlfriend?'

‘She's a friend. She's sleeping in the spare bed.'

‘In Mummy's room,' Maisie finishes for him.

Robbie looks at me. ‘Yes, in Mummy's room.'

‘Like Rachel did,' she goes on.

‘Indeed.' Robbie takes Maisie's hand. ‘It's time we went home to cook some tea. It's such a lovely evening that I thought we'd light the fire outside. Flick, would you mind locking up the feed room and closing the gate before you join us?'

‘I can go into Talyton St George for food,' I say.

‘No, don't. You're more than welcome.'

‘I'll catch you up.' I take ten or fifteen minutes to make sure the yard is secure, and I think about what Maisie has said. I feel at little sick at the thought that I'm sleeping in the dead ex's room, and uneasy that Robbie still describes it as ‘Mummy's room', even after eight years. And who on earth is Rachel?

I give Rafa a carrot to say goodnight before making my way to the cottage, where Robbie is lighting a fire in the fire-pit in the back garden while Maisie collects sticks from the flowerbeds and under the trees.

‘Hi,' I say. ‘Is it okay if I use the shower?'

‘Go ahead,' he says. ‘Help yourself. You don't have to ask.'

I feel awkward though, more so since the conversation with Maisie.

‘Are you all right?' he asks.

‘I'm fine.'

‘I should think dinner will be ready in about an hour. Don't tell Maisie, but I've put the potatoes in the oven in advance. Are baked potatoes with ham, cheese and salad all right? My cooking isn't up to my cousin's.'

‘I'll be back to help shortly,' I promise, but when I return to the garden where the air is filled with the scent of wood-smoke, he seems to have everything under control.

‘Would you and Maisie mind bringing the salad out from the kitchen?' he asks, reaching into the dancing flames in the fire-pit with a set of tongs to pull out a potato wrapped in foil.

Maisie sticks out the tip of her tongue as she concentrates on carrying the bowl of lettuce and tomato safely outside, while I keep the dogs at bay. She places it on the garden table, alongside a platter of ham and cheese.

‘I've forgotten the drinks,' Robbie says.

‘I'll get them if you tell me where to find them.'

‘I'll show you,' Maisie says.

We drink elderflower cordial with our meal. Maisie talks about Paddington, Miss Fox, her schoolteacher, and compares her father's baked potatoes favourably with the Marmite sandwiches that she had for lunch at the petting farm the day before.

‘That's high praise indeed,' Robbie murmurs, before he helps her get ready for bed, making sure she's showered, cleaned her teeth and got her uniform ready for the morning. I wait somewhat impatiently for him to read her a story. This morning, all I wanted was to be alone with Robbie to kiss and cuddle, but now I need some answers.

While I'm waiting, my mobile lights up with a text from Sarah:

Our beautiful baby girl, Isla Beatrice, was born today at 3.46 pm weighing 7 lb 3oz. All is well. xx

I text her back, congratulating her and David on Isla's safe arrival.

Eventually, Maisie goes to bed, and Robbie returns to the garden, where he sits down and gazes into the glowing remnants of the fire.

‘What are you thinking?' I ask quietly.

‘How wonderful this is, being here with you. I know it isn't the best of circumstances, but every cloud and all that.'

‘Are you sure about me staying here, only I don't want to intrude or cause upset because I'm staying in Carla's room?'

He turns to me. ‘We call it Carla's room, but she never slept in it. I should probably redecorate, but I've never got round to it because Maisie likes spending time in there, playing with her toys … I moved on a long time ago,' he adds, answering the unspoken question in my head, ‘but she still has an emotional attachment to it.'

‘And this Rachel? I hope you don't mind me asking …'

‘She's an ex-girlfriend. I hadn't thought about her for a long time until Maisie mentioned her name. To cut a long story short, I met her when Maisie was about four. We got together very quickly; she moved in and slept in the spare room when we fell out. It was a mistake. Maisie was devastated when Rachel left. She thought we were going to get married. It was heartbreaking.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘She was a lovely person, bubbly, good-looking and great with Maisie.' He looks wistful. ‘They had a special bond, and it wasn't fair that my daughter had to suffer when we split up. Rachel wasn't into horses and, although she worked shifts – she's a nurse – she couldn't understand why I spent almost every waking hour on the yard. It's too late now, but I wish I'd handled it differently. I haven't seen her for at least three years, in case you're wondering,' he goes on. ‘You have no reason to be jealous.'

‘I'm just sad that it didn't work out – for Maisie, anyway.'

‘But you don't like it, I can tell.'

‘I'm sorry, I don't want you thinking that I'm some crazy obsessed girlfriend.'

He grins. ‘Actually, I quite like the idea that you like me enough to have promoted yourself.'

I frown.

‘You said “girlfriend”.'

‘Did I? Oh-mi-God.'

‘Don't apologise. I love the fact that you want me to yourself.'

I move closer to him, the embers warming my cheeks. Carla, Rachel, Kerry and the others: they don't matter. It's my turn now.

‘Kiss?' he murmurs, sliding his arm around my back.

‘Oh yes,' I breathe. I look up into his eyes as a light comes on and a silhouette appears in one of the windows above.

‘Daddy! Flick! I can see you.' There's an explosion of giggles.

‘Maisie, you're supposed to be asleep,' Robbie calls, letting me go. ‘Go back to bed.'

‘I need you to tuck me in,' she says.

‘I'll be up later.'

‘Now?'

‘What did I just say?'

‘Okay …' The curtains close and the light goes off. Silence falls.

‘I'll go up and check on her in half an hour or so,' Robbie says.

‘She keeps you on your toes,' I observe. ‘You don't get a moment's peace.'

He smiles. ‘I know, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Shall we go inside and see what's on the telly? I usually watch something for half an hour or so to chill, nothing too challenging. I like a good crime drama or comedy. How about you?'

‘I'll probably fall asleep. I'm not sure I can stand the pace.'

‘The sooner you get back to shoeing horses, the better.' He pauses. ‘I suppose you can't do much without the equipment.'

‘I have a few tools of my own, but I need an anvil and forge as well. I can order shoes on credit, I think. Anyway, you'll have Mel and his replacement to look after the team, won't you?'

‘I want you to do them. Diva's good with you. I don't want to set her off by having some big burly bloke brandishing a rasp at her, and I'd like you to continue with Nelson and his remedial shoeing. I'd rather not have anyone else.'

‘You'll have to one day,' I say regretfully.

‘I'm talking about for the time being. I imagine you need a van like Mel's – I can call my friend at the garage to see if he knows of anything suitable.'

‘Thanks. That would be great, but it'll have to be incredibly cheap.'

‘There's an old anvil at the back of the barn. You can have that. I don't know how we acquired it. The local am-dram group have borrowed it for one of their productions before.'

‘I'd be very grateful for the loan. That way I can do some cold shoeing at least.'

‘You can keep it. Dillon and I thought we might be able to use it as a prop one day, but we don't need it.'

We move indoors. In the sitting room, we sit down on the sofa side by side, without touching. We start to watch a quiz show on TV, but each time I glance towards him, he catches my eye.

‘You aren't concentrating.' I give him a gentle nudge.

‘Neither are you.' He rests one hand on my shoulder and his fingers caress my skin. I turn to face him as his breathing deepens, matching mine. The temptation is too much to resist.

‘Let's go to bed,' he whispers.

‘Are you sure?'

‘Maisie will be asleep by now.' He stands up and helps me on to my feet. I make a play of falling into his arms, and we kiss until Robbie guides me towards the stairs and up to his room where we fall into bed.

Much later, we're woken by a wail. ‘Daddy, where are you? I'm scared.'

Robbie and I sit bolt upright.

‘We must have fallen asleep.' I scramble to get up, trying to unscramble my brain at the same time.

‘I'll go,' he says, almost falling out of bed to reach the door, where the doorknob squeaks as it starts to turn. ‘Maisie, wait there.'

I dive back under the duvet and lie flat like a starfish.

‘I had a bad dream,' Maisie sobs. ‘I wanna sleep in your bed.'

‘Oh dear. Let's get you back to your room. You're getting too grown-up to sleep with Daddy.'

‘It was really scary.'

‘I'll tuck you in with teddy and wait with you until you're asleep. I'll tell you the story of the dream-catcher.'

‘Okay,' she says eventually. ‘Can I have a biscuit too?'

‘No, no biscuits.'

‘Can I sleep with Flick?'

‘We mustn't disturb her. She's had a long day with the horses.'

And a short night with Robbie, I think, curling my toes at the delicious memory of our lovemaking. I listen for the sound of his footsteps padding across the landing, and the sound of a door being pulled shut. I peep over the top of the duvet to check that the coast is clear, before getting up, sweeping up the trail of clothes I left earlier, and making my way back to my room.

‘Ouch!' I exclaim, as a pain shoots through my big toe. It takes me a moment to work out that I've stubbed it on one of Maisie's toys on the landing.

‘What's that noise? Is it a ghost?' I hear her ask her father.

‘There's no such thing. Please try to go to sleep.' I can hear the desperation in his voice. He's shattered, yet patient. I don't know how he does it.

I head for bed. I leave the light on and make an inspection of my room. This time, I take a closer interest in the feminine touches: cream curtains covered with pink roses; a marquetry box – inside is a necklace of semi-precious stones set in silver with a tiny card, reading, ‘To my darling Carla, love you for ever, RS'; a pair of small leather riding gloves. I pick up a unicorn from the floor, one of Maisie's soft toys, I assume. I sit it on the dressing table where it watches over me as I slip between the cold sheets and fall back to sleep.