Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage (32 page)

The next afternoon, when I'm wondering how Robbie and I will ever be able to organise spending time alone together, I arrive back at the Saltertons' with groceries that I've picked up in Talyton St George as my contribution to the household. Robbie is watching Maisie ride Paddington in the arena. He waves me over.

‘What do you think?' he says.

‘She's doing very well,' I say, as Maisie canters a circle, which comes to an abrupt stop as Paddington manages to stumble into walk.

‘They're as ready as they ever will be for the rally.'

‘When is it? Remind me.'

‘Next Saturday. A week today. By the way, if you're interested, I've organised for Maisie to go to one of her friends for a sleepover afterwards. We can go out for a meal—'

‘Or stay in,' I say.

Grinning, he leans across the gate and kisses me on the cheek.

‘Daddy, you're kissing Flick,' Maisie shouts. She flaps her legs and Paddington breaks into a lazy trot, heading in our direction.

‘I'm being friendly.' Robbie gives me a wink as Paddington stops beside us. ‘Don't let him halt by the gate, otherwise he'll always want to do it. We don't want him getting into any bad habits.' He slaps the pony lightly on the rump to move him on. ‘It's time to stop now.'

‘Aw, do we have to?'

‘That's enough for today – Paddington needs to conserve some energy for Pony Club.'

Maisie dismounts and I open the gate for her to lead Paddington back to his stable. She untacks him and puts her arms around his neck.

‘So cute,' I say.

‘I know,' Robbie sighs. ‘I can't help it.'

I give him a gentle shove.

‘Daddy, what are you saying?' Maisie asks.

‘Nothing.'

‘I expect you're talking about the price of fish again,' she sighs. ‘I never want to be a grown-up.'

‘It has its compensations,' Robbie says, amused.

I smile to myself because I have to agree with him. His eyes caress mine, and even though my head says that this is for fun, not for ever, my heart is filled with a rush of something deeper than desire.

I'm staying at Cherry Tree Cottage and Robbie and I have agreed on an exclusive but light-hearted relationship for as long as it lasts, and I'm over the moon. There is just one fly in the ointment: the presence of a certain rather endearing eight-year-old.

We're up early for the Pony Club rally the following Saturday. I catch all the horses and bring them into their stables for the day, while Dillon whizzes around on the quad bike with the trailer, clearing the fields of muck. I haven't seen Robbie since last night when we went to bed – in separate beds. Maisie is an extraordinarily light sleeper – she can hear a spider run across a carpet.

‘Where's your brother?' I ask as Dillon stops to let me lead Paddington and T-rex past him.

‘He's on daddy duty.' He grins. ‘He can't find Maisie's hairnet, and Sophia won't let anyone with long hair ride without one.'

‘I hope she doesn't expect you to wear one while you're doing the demo.'

He laughs as I walk on past him. Paddington makes a dive for the grass alongside the path, pulling up a mouthful of daisies and red clover. I keep him on a tight rope the rest of the way to his stable.

Having given feeds to the horses that need them, I head inside the big house to find Robbie in the kitchen, plaiting Maisie's hair. She's holding a compact vanity mirror at arm's length, tipping her head from side to side and sticking her tongue out at her reflection.

‘Please keep still,' Robbie groans, as first one and then another hairband snaps. ‘Mum, have you got another one?'

‘In the pot on the windowsill.'

‘You're hurting me,' Maisie says. ‘And that one's the wrong colour,' she goes on when Sally Ann passes him a replacement.

‘I don't know why you're worrying about it,' Sally Ann says. ‘It's the same colour as Paddington's lead rope. Help yourself to breakfast, Flick. There's coffee in the pot.'

I take two slices of toast, mushrooms, eggs and baked beans. I think it's going to be a long day.

‘How's my favourite niece?' Dillon comes in from outside, wiping his boots on the mat on the way in. He ruffles Maisie's fringe as he moves past her.

‘Hey, don't do that. It's taken me half an hour to get it right.' Robbie picks up the hairbrush from the table. ‘What do you think?'

‘It isn't as good as when Louise does it, but you're getting better, Daddy. You'll get there in the end.'

‘Well, thank you for the vote of confidence,' he says in a lightly sarcastic tone.

‘Thank you for my doing my hair.' She grabs the end of her plait and twirls it in a circle like a propeller.

‘Don't do that. I don't want to have to start all over again. Now, Flick's going to help you give Paddington a bath while I hitch up the trailer and load all your kit, barring the hairnet that I still can't find. What have you done with it?'

‘Paddington ate it,' she says with a cheeky grin.

‘When?' Robbie exclaims.

‘He didn't!' says Sally Ann.

‘I showed it to him one day, and it went in his mouth and never came out.'

‘Oh dear,' Dillon says gruffly.

‘What are we going to do?' Robbie runs his hands through his own hair.

‘You carry on,' Sally Ann says. ‘I'll pop down to the chemist in Talyton when it opens at nine and buy a new one, and spares. I can drop over to the manor with them on my way home.'

‘Thanks, Mum. You've saved my life.' Robbie moves around the table to give her a hug. ‘I don't know what I'd do without you.'

‘Neither do I,' she smiles gently, and a lump forms in my throat as I try to recall when I last felt that close to my mother. It's been a long time.

I finish my breakfast and put the plate and cutlery in the dishwasher before going outside with Maisie in tow. As we approach Paddington's stable, she skips on past me, opens the door and clips the rope to his head-collar before leading him out and tying him up. She turns on the outside tap and unwinds the hose.

I pick the shampoo and a sponge from the bucket of lotions and pampering potions. I open the lid and take a breath of the fresh scent of strawberries and cream. Maisie aims the end of the hose towards Paddington. The water loops over the top of his back and hits me straight in the chest.

‘Ugh, turn it off,' I shriek, but she continues to spray me. I move around the pony and grapple with her for the end of the hose. ‘I'll hold on to this while you rub the shampoo into Paddington's coat.'

‘What's going on? I heard you shouting.' Robbie's eyes settle on my T-shirt, which clings to my chest. ‘Would you like me to take over?'

‘It's all right. I might as well finish the job now.'

‘I accidentally on purpose sprayed Flick with water,' Maisie giggles.

‘So I see. I think you should say sorry to her.'

‘Sorry.' She opens the shampoo bottle, tipping it so it drips on to the ground, making bubbles in the puddles.

‘You're spilling it. You'd better hurry up. Sophia will give you a black mark if you're late.' Robbie gives me a furtive smile. I reckon we work well together, with me in the role of good cop and him as bad cop. I find myself wanting to substitute the word ‘cop' with ‘parent', which feels odd when Robbie is Maisie's dad, and I'm merely helping out.

The hose chases the dirty suds out of Paddington's coat and down the drain.

I find myself wondering what sort of mother I'd make, if I ever had children. A strange sensation grips my chest, a pang of longing as I watch Maisie's small hands scrubbing the pony's shoulder with shampoo because she can't reach his withers. I didn't think I wanted one before, but I would like a baby. One day …

‘Have you shampooed Paddington's tail yet?' I ask, having discovered previously that asking usually has a better outcome than telling Maisie to do something. She turns her attention to his tail. I look across the yard. Robbie is loading my tools into the trailer. My heart melts because it's the little things he does that show me how he cares about me. I watch him walk back from the barn, carrying the anvil. How will I even begin to tear myself away from my temporary lover and his funny and loving little girl?

Robbie drives the Land Rover and trailer to Talyton Manor. Outside the house, there are croquet hoops set out on the lawn. In the paddocks beyond, there are a couple of courses of show-jumps, and rows of horseboxes with a marquee.

‘It looks as if you'll be doing some jumping, Maisie,' I say.

‘Yay,' she says from the seat behind mine. ‘Paddington loves jumping.'

‘I think we're all going to have a lot of fun today.' Robbie reaches out and gives my thigh a sneaky squeeze.

I glance across. He catches my eye and winks. He isn't talking about Pony Club.

He chooses a spot to park on the field, making a third line behind the earlier arrivals. I jump out and open the door for Maisie, who lands on the grass with a big smile on her face. There are children of all ages, parents and ponies everywhere, and Sophia is in the thick of it, dressed in a hacking jacket and breeches, and yelling instructions.

She walks across to us to give us a programme for the day.

‘Welcome to the fray. If you aren't sure about where you're supposed to be, just ask.' She looks past me. ‘Ah, Robbie, I'm so glad you and Dillon agreed to take part.'

He greets her, kissing her lightly on the cheek.

‘Maisie's in the yellow ride with Niamh, Chloe and Harriet.' Sophia checks her list. ‘There's tea, squash and other refreshments available all day from the marquee, where Jennie's in charge of the catering. All rides must be lined up on the field by the pond at ten o'clock sharp.'

‘We'd better get a move on then,' Robbie says as she walks away. ‘Sophia can be ferocious, but her bark is worse than her bite. I've always looked up to her. I was captain of the mounted games team for several years, and she was one of the few who didn't tell me not to go into stunt riding because it was too dangerous,' he adds. ‘She still rides, but only out hacking with her grandkids. I don't know what would happen to the Talyton St George branch of the Pony Club if she should ever hang up her boots.'

I unload Paddington from the trailer while Robbie helps Maisie into her body protector and jacket, and Sally Ann drops by briefly with the hairnets. I tack the pony up, fastening up the throatlatch on his bridle and tightening the girth on the saddle. By ten o'clock, there are four rides of children and ponies immaculately turned out and standing in a row in front of the pond for Sophia's inspection and an introduction to their instructors. Robbie and I stand watching until they're sent off for their morning activities.

‘Paddington is looking amazing,' I say.

‘It's hard to believe we got him for nothing. He isn't exactly showy, but he's more than a match for the other ponies.'

‘I hope he behaves himself.'

‘He'll be too knackered to do anything naughty. Haven't you read Sophia's schedule? The ponies have four hours of being ridden, although they do get a rest while the kids learn about stable management, tack cleaning and farriery, and watch the stunt-riding demo.'

‘Which horses are you bringing?'

‘I'm going to have to work with Diva while Dillon works with Scout. It'll be more low-key than usual – I'm a little stuck without Nelson. As you know, I've had Diva in training and she's doing okay. I'm planning to use her as our lead horse for now, mainly because I can't rely on her to stick with the team – she has too much of a mind of her own. We've had a couple of hairy moments, but nothing I can't handle.'

‘Do you think she's ready, though? I don't like the idea of you getting hurt.'

‘I didn't think you cared,' he smiles.

‘Of course I do.'

‘I think we should leave them to it and go and eat cake. I'm starving.' On the way to the marquee, Robbie asks me when I'm doing my talk.

‘Immediately after lunch.'

‘Would you like some immoral support?'

‘Don't you mean moral?'

He chuckles, but I don't laugh with him. Much as I love holding hands, kissing and making love with him out of range of Maisie's radar, as if we are doing something immoral, I'd like to think more seriously about ‘us'. I'm finding it increasingly difficult to keep it casual. It's all very well keeping reminding myself that there's nothing in it, no future, but my emotions keep welling up inside me, like water bubbling from an endless spring. Robbie is perfect. He adores his daughter and his horses. He's kind, funny, generous, and – best of all – he gets me. I'm falling in love with him.

‘What are you thinking?' he asks softly.

‘Nothing.' This isn't the time. ‘I'd better get my tools out of the trailer.'

‘I'll carry the anvil,' he offers.

‘I can manage.'

He grins. ‘I know. You're so bloody independent.'

‘I'm not. At the moment, I'm dependent on you and your family.'

‘That isn't true. We couldn't run the yard without you.'

‘So you're no closer to finding a replacement then?'

He shakes his head. ‘We've had some enquiries but, to be honest, I'm in no hurry.' He stands beside me, his fingers curling around mine as he lowers his voice to a husky whisper. ‘It's selfish, but I like having you around.'

‘The feeling's mutual,' I murmur.

He releases my hand, and we walk inside the marquee, where several women are organising the catering for the week. Jennie, who made the cake for Sally Ann and Neil's anniversary, looks up from where she's making sandwiches. She wipes her hands on her apron and nods towards the end of the table.