Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage (35 page)

When I meet Robbie on the yard after he's dropped Maisie and Ashley at school, he's looking cool and collected in jeans and a khaki T-shirt.

Dillon doesn't turn up until nine, when Robbie is emerging from the barn with several hay-nets slung over his shoulders. He gives his brother a weary telling-off before handing over the load of hay.

‘There you are. It's all yours for the next few hours. Flick and I are taking the horses to the beach.'

‘I'll bring Scout,' Dillon says.

‘No, you'll stay here – there's work to do in the office if you run out of things to do on the yard. Don't argue. You haven't been pulling your weight.'

‘Who do you think you are?'

‘I'm supposed to be your partner, but I feel more like your boss, and I'm inclined to give you the push.'

Dillon swears. ‘How do you think it feels always being second to you?'

‘Don't talk rubbish. You can't do any wrong. You're the golden boy, the younger son.' He hesitates, then turns and walks away towards the horsebox.

‘What's eating him?' Dillon asks me when Robbie is out of earshot.

‘He's worried about Nelson.'

‘There's no need to take it out on me.' Dillon heaves the hay-nets on to his back.

‘I know, but he's completely committed to everything he does, so it's hard for him to see you rolling up without a care in the world when he's been on the yard since seven thirty. Give him a break.'

‘All right, seeing that it's you who's asking. You'll look after him today?'

‘I'll try, but you know what he's like. He does his own thing,' I say, watching Robbie lower the ramp on the lorry. I admire his determination to be the best dad and the best stunt rider, but I'm not sure if he's trying hard enough to be the best boyfriend, because there is still the issue of Maisie. ‘I have no control over him.'

‘You have more than you imagine,' Dillon says. ‘He'd do anything for you.'

‘Even take me and my horse to the beach,' I say, smiling, as I turn my attention to Rafa, who is looking over his door. I walk across to give him a pat, but he turns and walks away to nibble from his hay-net. ‘Sometimes I wonder if he's all that into me,' I observe.

‘That's ridiculous,' Dillon says. ‘Robbie adores you.'

‘I'm talking about Rafa.'

‘My mistake,' Dillon chuckles.

‘I'd better get going. I'll see you later.'

Robbie and I load the horses. Before we set out, he takes off his shirt, rolls it up and lays it across his shoulders, and I worry that he'll stop the traffic.

‘I had a great time last night,' he says, as we finally head off to the holiday resort of Talysands.

‘It was fun,' I agree, ‘although I'd have liked to stay cuddled up in bed with you. Do we have to continue this charade in front of Maisie?'

He glances across at me.

‘Are you still intent on leaving?'

‘Well, yes, but—'

‘Then nothing's changed,' he says abruptly.

‘I wish we didn't have to keep our relationship hidden, that's all. It makes me feel a little uncomfortable, pretending that we're just friends whenever Maisie is around. Other people have guessed what's going on. It won't be long before she works it out for herself.'

‘I'd rather that she didn't. I'm sorry, Flick, but I can't do it to her, not after what happened to her mum and then with Rachel. I'll have to be in a long-term, committed relationship before I involve Maisie.'

‘I understand why you feel this way—'

‘You aren't a parent, though. You think you have some idea of how strongly I feel about protecting my daughter, but I can tell you, you haven't a clue until you've been there.'

‘Are we having an argument?' I ask, trying to keep the conversation light.

‘I prefer to describe it as a discussion.' He reaches across and squeezes my knee. ‘I feel torn. I want to keep Maisie happy and I want to make you happy too. It's like walking a tightrope, trying to live life without hurting anyone's feelings.'

I love him, but sometimes I wonder about his decision-making. I know he worries about Maisie, but I wish he'd also think about himself and what he wants.

As we pass the sign for Talysands, Robbie drives on down the hill to the railway bridge. The road continues beneath the arch to reach the amusement arcades and shops but, before we get there, Robbie stops, braking slowly for the horses, and swears.

‘I'd forgotten there was a height limit here.' He smiles ruefully as he lowers the window to give him a better view. ‘Idiot!'

Inhaling the mixed scents of the sea, fresh doughnuts and chips, I reach across the seat and touch his thigh to reassure him that he is anything but.

He makes a six-or seven-point turn and drives back along the road until he finds a side turning into a car park behind the dunes. He picks a space for the lorry at the far end of a row of vehicles, parks and turns off the engine.

‘Are you ready for this?' he asks.

‘Of course. I'm very excited – I've never ridden Rafa on the beach.' I lean in for a kiss and the temperature in the cab is starting to rise to a dangerous level when we finally tear ourselves apart.

We unload the horses in front of a small audience of holidaymakers, who stand with armfuls of colourful bags, balls, parasols and beach towels. I fasten the strap on my hat and mount Rafa bareback from the step at the side of the lorry, while Robbie vaults on to Nelson's back, having moved the T-shirt from his shoulders to reveal his naked torso, and kicked off his shoes.

‘Which way?' I say, looking in the direction of the sea.

He gestures towards a slatted wooden pathway that runs across the sand between spiky clumps of marram grass. There's a double-headed sign with ‘Dogs Allowed' pointing one way, and ‘Dogs Not Allowed May– Sept' the other.

‘Away from the crowds.' He squeezes his calves against Nelson's sides and we ride along the first section of the beach, negotiating encampments of sun-tents, windbreaks and deckchairs. The crowds thin out as we head towards the far end of the shallow bay, where red sandstone cliffs, scarred by waves and weather, border the shingle. Looking back, I can see the promenade and the steep stone steps down to the sand.

Rafa shies at the shells and strips of seaweed that lie strewn across the foreshore. I let him take Nelson's lead as we reach the water's edge where the waves caress the sand. Robbie rides straight in. Rafa hesitates as a creamy swirl of surf flows towards him. He makes to take a step back as the water touches his hooves, but I push him on in. He stops as the water begins to fall back again and starts pawing at the froth, digging a hole that the sea fills in when the next wave washes back.

‘What are you waiting for?' Robbie yells. Nelson's black coat is gleaming wet as he stands belly-deep in the water.

I send Rafa forwards. Bemused, he jumps an incoming wave, and another, making me laugh.

‘Your horse is mad,' Robbie shouts above the sound of splashing.

‘He's loving it,' I call back, enjoying the touch of the cold water against my skin. ‘Thanks for bringing us.'

‘The more time I can spend with you the better.'

Squinting through the searing brilliance of the sun dancing on the water, I watch Robbie work with Nelson, asking him to break from walk to canter and back again in the surf. Horse and rider perform a pirouette. Nelson turns on his haunches with his hocks underneath him and his tail tucked in. The foam from his mouth mixes with the spray from the breaking waves and sweat trickles down his shoulders, blending with the saltwater that flies up as he plunges his hooves into the sea.

My belly tightens with longing as I watch them. My feelings for Robbie are no longer casual. They're deeper than the ocean.

With droplets of water glinting from his hair, he lets Nelson relax before asking him to rear up, a trick I've seen him do many times.

Nelson lifts his front feet high into the air, throwing up a mixture of glittering water and sand. The muscles down his thighs swell and ripple as he takes his weight on his hind limbs and propels his body forwards before slamming his forefeet down with a loud splash. He freezes momentarily – if you didn't know the horse, you might not notice how his ears drop just a little, and his expression changes from complete joy and exhilaration to confusion and pain.

In an instant, though, he hides his feelings. There is no way that he would continue to survive in the wild by showing weakness.

Robbie glances down towards Nelson's shoulder and gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head before turning and riding into the deeper water, where he slides off Nelson's back and swims with him. For a few minutes, I wonder if they're intending to return to shore or if they're going to carry on their journey to the horizon and beyond, where the blues of the sea and sky blend into one. Rafa shifts beneath me, growing anxious as his companion heads out towards the rocks in the middle of the bay, and the seagulls cry overhead.

He doesn't relax until Robbie and Nelson return, emerging from the surf side by side.

‘He's done enough,' Robbie says. ‘I thought I'd take the weight off his feet.'

I look away from the compelling sight of Robbie's lightly tanned chest adorned with goose bumps, to the expanse of sand and pebbles that exists between us and the lorry.

‘It's a long way to walk. Here, jump on. We'll give you a lift.'

‘Will Rafa be okay with that?' Robbie shields his eyes from the sun.

‘There's only one way to find out.'

He vaults on behind me. Rafa flicks his ears back and forwards again as Robbie wraps his arms around my waist, but he's fine with the extra weight, and we return along the beach with Nelson ambling along beside us. I settle into the rhythm of the walk, leaning back against Robbie's chest.

‘Thank you,' he says, leaning closer with his cheek against mine.

‘What for?'

‘For being here. For being you. I don't think I could get through this without you.'

‘What do you mean?' My pleasure at being up close and personal with my man on a horse evaporates as it occurs to me what he's talking about. ‘Nelson?'

‘This was his last stand. It was a pretty long shot, but I was hoping that he'd be sound on the sand. That would have been a start, but it isn't to be. I'll never ride him again.'

‘Don't say that! You can't be sure.'

‘I know him too well. He tries his heart out to do his best for me, but it hurts. I can't bear to cause him any more pain. It isn't fair.'

‘I can't tell you how sorry I am.' My eyelids are gritty and I can taste salt on my lips. ‘What will you do about the TV contract?'

‘I don't know. I can't think about that just yet.'

‘You can borrow Rafa if you think he's up to it. There's no way he'd be ready to join the team for some time, but you can have a go.'

‘That's a kind offer. I could buy him …'

‘I couldn't give him up completely.'

‘I know.' He sniffs and clears his throat. He's crying, I think, as he goes on, ‘I'll call Matt when we get back.'

I can't speak. There's nothing I can say to make him feel better. It's the end of Robbie's partnership with his beloved horse and, depending on what Matt advises, it could easily be the end of Nelson too.

For how much longer will I be able to take advantage of the Saltertons' generosity, I wonder, as I'm finishing breakfast in the kitchen of the big house a couple of days after our ride on the beach? Sally Ann opens the fridge door and a jug falls out, spilling milk across the floor.

‘Oh dear,' she sighs. ‘I've had better days.'

‘I'll clear it up,' I offer, feeling a little guilty for sitting on my bottom at the table while she runs around tidying up.

‘No, you stay there.' She mops the floor with a tea towel.

‘Matt's coming out today, isn't he?'

‘Yes, it's decision time for Nelson. Poor Robbie, I'm afraid he's going to be heartbroken.'

‘I know.' He's been putting on a brave face since deciding to stop riding him, but underneath he's devastated. When you love a horse, part of his soul becomes joined with yours, and when you lose him, that part of your soul goes with him.

‘He's very fond of you.' She changes the subject as I'm turning the colour of fried tomatoes. ‘It's all right. I realise he's trying to keep it from Maisie, but it's pretty obvious to everyone else. I wish you'd consider making your stay in Furzeworthy permanent.'

‘I can't because …' At this moment, with the scent of fresh coffee and horse drifting into my nostrils, and the sight of Robbie leading Diva across the yard outside, I can't think of a single reason for leaving.

‘You have to follow your dream,' Sally Ann finishes for me. ‘You just have to be sure that you're following the right one.'

‘Thanks for the advice,' I say.

‘Anytime.'

I head back outside and I'm sweeping the yard when I hear the sound of a vehicle turning up the drive.

‘Is that Matt?' Robbie calls from the doorway into the tack room.

I pause to look as a familiar silver four-by-four pulls up beside the barn. The pile of shavings and horsehair I've been sweeping up outside Rafa's stable is caught by an eddy and whirls away across the yard.

‘It is,' I call back as Robbie strides towards me. ‘I'll let you talk to him.'

‘No.' Robbie catches my hand as I make to carry on sweeping. I'd rather keep busy and wait until the last possible moment to hear bad news. ‘Please, I'd like you to be here.'

Reluctantly, I lean the broom across the wheelbarrow and accompany him and Matt to Nelson's stable. Nelson puts his head over the door and breathes in Robbie's ear as he puts a bridle on. Robbie leads him out.