Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage (4 page)

‘He has problems communicating and processing information, which means that he struggles with any form of social interaction. He goes to Talyton Primary where he has a Learning Support Assistant, but we're under pressure to send him to a school for children with special needs instead.' Her eyes grow glassy with tears. ‘Even though the other children do their best to include him, he knows he's different. It's very hard. Mel finds it particularly difficult to accept. He's a real man's man, very sociable and hardly stops talking. You'll see when you meet him.' She looks past me. ‘You made it in time for breakfast, I see. Mel, this is Flick.'

‘So the cavalry's arrived.' I turn to see a thickset man, dressed in a tweed jacket over a check shirt and jeans; he's walking stiffly over to the table, his back bowed. He shakes my hand, pumping it roughly up and down. ‘It's great to meet you at last. Tone's told me all about you. What's he said about me?'

‘That you're a top bloke.' Those were his exact words and I don't mind repeating them. Mel seems pleased.

‘We've been mates for many years. He was best man at our wedding, wasn't he, Lou.'

‘I'm surprised you remember,' she says cheerfully. ‘Of course I remember.' He moves around behind his wife, slides his arms around her waist and gives her a bear hug. ‘Getting shackled to you was the best day of my life.'

‘Sit down, you charmer,' she says, turning to kiss him on the lips.

When he straightens up to pull up a chair, his belly seems to slump over the top of his belt. His head is shaved completely bald and his skull has a pointed appearance. He has massive arms, a ruddy complexion and a Roman nose. As he sits down, Louise places a mug of coffee and a cooked breakfast in front of him.

‘I thought we'd better have a quick chat before you go on the road.' He smiles, revealing two gold crowns in his upper jaw. Louise hands him a bottle of ketchup. He squeezes half of it over his food and picks up his knife and fork.

‘You can use the forge whenever you like – the key's under the stone trough, right-hand end. I've entered you for the Eagle Eye class at the spring Farm and Country Festival in a few weeks, so you might want to practise. I need you to represent my business while I'm out of action, and it's a good way to make a good impression and meet new clients.'

‘I've had plenty of practice making shoes,' I say, amused. ‘I didn't do much else before my exam.'

‘Tone said you were pretty dedicated.' He takes a huge mouthful of food and chews for a while before continuing again. ‘But you did have something to prove, being one of the few females in the profession. I reckon you'll stir things up around here.'

I can't help wondering, as I watch him eat, if I'm here to give him some kind of notoriety while he's out of action.

‘I've got my surgery this week. I've put it off for as long as I can, but the pain's too much to bear—'

‘On some days, he can hardly move,' Louise cuts in. ‘On other days, he's fit enough to walk back from the pub after a few pints with his brother. There are times, like this morning, when it's hard to feel any sympathy.'

‘Heartless woman.' Mel gazes fondly at his wife. ‘Thanks for driving me back to fetch the pick-up this morning.'

‘You've made me late for the school run.' Louise touches his shoulder as she leaves the kitchen to go and find Ashley. ‘I'll see you both later.'

‘Well, Flick, we'd better make a move.' Mel stands up slowly from his chair, one fist pressed into the small of his back. He picks up a book and a mobile from the dresser and hands them over to me.

‘Here's the diary and the business phone – I can't be arsed to change the number.'

‘Have you got a price list?' I ask.

‘It's in the back – Lou printed it out for me. It's flexible. When a client pays in kind with cider, cake, or a leg of lamb, I'll cut a fiver off the bill, but don't let anyone take the mickey. It's payment on the day – cash, not cheques, and absolutely no credit.' He pauses, his eyes on my face. ‘Don't look so worried. My clients are well schooled in my ways. As time's gone on I've been able to pick and choose. I'll admit there are some oddballs, but they're okay on the whole.'

He hands me a set of keys. ‘These are for the Toyota.'

‘Thanks. That's great,' I say, guessing that this is the end of my induction, but he follows me outside.

‘I'll give you the guided tour.' He opens the tailgate of the truck to show me the set-up in the back: the aluminium-lined workspace with drawers and gas furnace, which consists of a metal box with a door in the front of it, fuelled by a propane cylinder.

‘It has twin burners,' Mel says proudly. ‘I've had it for a while. I replaced the ignition system and cleaned the jets the other day. I've loaded the drawers with shoes and nails. You should find everything you need: anvil, stand, vice, trolley, etc. I've sharpened the knives.'

‘Thank you.' I have brought my own tools with me, apart from an anvil.

‘The front isn't this tidy.' He grins. ‘I didn't get around to that. I've been too busy trying to keep on top of things. The competition horses are back in full work and everyone's making the most of the good weather and lighter evenings. I'm not complaining, though – it pays the bills.'

I tuck the mobile in my pocket and open the diary to check where I'm supposed to be going first.

‘What time am I supposed to be at Eclipse?' I ask, reading Mel's handwriting. ‘It doesn't say.' It also doesn't say where – or what – Eclipse is.

‘Oh, that's the Saltertons' place. There isn't a time – I always get there when I get there. It's just up the road.' He waves vaguely in the direction in which Robbie rode away last night. ‘All the addresses are programmed into the satnav in the front of the truck.'

He closes the tailgate while I go around to the driver's door and jump in. There's a packet of sweaty sandwiches, a couple of chocolate wrappers and several empty cola bottles in the passenger footwell. A pen dangles on the end of a piece of string tied to a diary on the dashboard, and there are crumbs on the seats.

It's pretty disgusting, but it will do. I make a plan to muck it out later.

I fasten the seatbelt, switch on the engine and satnav, and I'm ready to drive off when Mel gets in too, grunting as he slides his bulk into the passenger's side. He glances across at me, one eyebrow raised at my surprise.

‘I didn't realise …' I stammer.

‘That I was coming with you,' he finishes for me. ‘It's only for today, to help you out with the navigation and introduce you to the Saltertons.'

I wonder if he can actually let go; if he's one of those people who are unable to delegate. I don't blame him for being protective of his business, but it makes me feel as if I'm on trial. He reaches out and taps the dashboard, reminding me of my old driving instructor.

‘Let's go. Turn left.'

‘Left?' I pull up at the gateway on to the lane as the satnav is telling me to leave the unmade road and turn right.

‘You don't need to listen to that thing.' Mel reaches forwards and turns it off. ‘I thought I'd show you around, so you can get your bearings.'

‘You really don't have to.'

‘I hate sitting around. I'm one of those people who's on the go all the time.'

I have my eyes on the road, but I can tell from his voice that he's smiling when he continues, ‘It drives Lou mad.'

The gears scrunch as I change from second into third.

Mel winces.

I drive on down the lane, taking care at the blind bends and praying that we won't meet anything coming the other way.

‘It's fine. We have all day,' Mel says with sarcasm. ‘Tone said you were a bit flaky behind the wheel.'

I'd love to be able to abandon my new boss in the lane and tell him to make his own way but, considering it's my first day, I decide it probably isn't the best move.

‘Take the right fork at the crossroads,' he goes on. ‘That takes us down into town. I'll show you where to buy the best sandwiches.'

He directs me through Talyton St George, a quaint little town, where bunting flutters between the antique lampposts, and some of the streets are so narrow that there's a one-way system to cope with the traffic.

‘If you stop here.' Mel points to a row of shops.

‘Where?' I ask, noticing that it's all double yellow lines.

‘Just here. No one will mind, not for a few minutes.'

I park in front of the baker's and we go inside, where Mel introduces me to a middle-aged woman, dressed in white, who is serving at the counter. Plump and pillowy, with a dusting of powder across her cheeks, she resembles the floured baps in the basket on the shelves of fresh bread behind her.

‘This is Cathy,' Mel says.

‘Hello,' she says. ‘Don't let this man lead you astray.'

‘Oh, I won't,' I say, not quite sure what she means.

‘Don't worry. Flick is one of the lads.' Mel reaches around my shoulder and hoicks me towards him as if we're best mates. ‘She's taking on my round while I'm getting my back done.'

‘I'm impressed.' Cathy picks up a pencil and notepad from beside the till. ‘What can I get you?'

‘Chili chicken in a wholemeal baguette. Deep fill,' he says with a wink.

‘That's a given where you're concerned.' Giving him a flirtatious smile, she takes his money before I give her my order of cheese and pickle sandwiches.

Mel eats his lunch on the way back.

‘Have you always lived around here?' I ask.

‘I was born and bred on a farm, not far from here. My family's been in the dairy business for generations. My brother stayed on at the farm while my parents gave me a pot of money to put down a deposit on the property I'm in now. It was like an advance on my inheritance. My mother's still alive and kicking, but my father died a long time ago. He had a heart attack.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘That's another reason why I've decided to go ahead with the op. Life is short and I want to live it to the full. I want to be able to do what I want, not be stuck in a wheelchair.' Mel's voice fades and I spot the first sign of vulnerability. ‘The operation isn't without risk; I'm relying on my surgeon having a steady hand,' he continues quietly. ‘I'm not looking forward to tomorrow.'

We enter Furzeworthy. There are some bungalows, a terrace of cottages rendered in pastel colours, a few detached red-brick houses and a tiny church with a graveyard of mossed stones, neatly mown grass and a yew tree, and that's about it. The nearest it has to a shop is a table outside one of the residences that has a ‘For Sale' sign, some jars of honey and seedlings in pots, and an honesty box on top of it.

‘This is the Saltertons' place,' Mel says.

I turn left at the sign:
Eclipse Equine: Liveries, Breaking and Schooling, Horses as Therapy. R. and D. Salterton. Home of the Eclipse stunt team.
From here, there's a long drive, bordered by post and rail fencing and a beech hedge. A few hundred metres along, a cottage appears. It's picture perfect, built from cob with a roof of golden thatch, and painted pale cream. It has diamond-leaded windows set deep in its walls and a door of dark oak. In front of it is a country garden filled with spring flowers, anemones, narcissi and hyacinths, but most obvious are the cherry trees, three of them growing in the lawn and laden with pink blossom.

‘Is this it?'

I can't see any stables.

‘No, keep going. That's where Robbie lives with his kid,' Mel says. ‘Cherry Tree Cottage.'

Robbie has a child. I don't know why my brain registers that particular piece of information, and the fact that Mel doesn't mention a ‘significant other', a wife or girlfriend.

The drive continues and, eventually, a house comes into view, a country house with a ha-ha separating a manicured stretch of grass from a sweep of rugged pasture. It's white and built in the Georgian style, with a double front, sash windows and a roof of grey tiles. It reminds me of the doll's house my father bought for me one Christmas. I unpacked and arranged the furniture and the dolls, and never played with it again, but it took pride of place on a special shelf in my bedroom.

I slow right down. The house stands slightly higher than the surroundings, with green hills behind it and views of the countryside, sweeping down to a wood and dropping away towards the Taly valley in the distance.

‘It's pretty breathtaking, isn't it?' Mel says. ‘The estate has belonged to the Saltertons since they made their fortune in shipbuilding a couple of centuries ago. They were loaded back then, but now they're asset-rich and cash-poor, and muddling along like the rest of us.'

‘I don't think I'd care if I was lucky enough to live here.' The house is magnificent, but the cottage would be my dream home if I was given the choice. I've always wanted somewhere that's cute and quirky with oak beams, a wood-burning stove and a paddock for Rafa. One day …

‘Carry on past the house and take the turning immediately beyond it. Neil – that's Robbie and Dillon's father – and Sally Ann, his wife, live in the big house.'

‘Slow down a minute. All these names and relationships are a lot to take in.'

‘Robbie's brother, Dillon, lives in the cider house, one of the converted barns,' Mel continues. ‘Neil's tried his hand at keeping deer and ostriches, but the horses won out. The boys were stars in the Pony Club. They moved on from being key players in the mounted games team and tetrathlon to performing tricks and creating their own stunts. The rest is history.

‘Neil keeps beef cattle and rents out some of the land to a local farmer, as well as overseeing the equestrian operation. Sally Ann looks after the holiday accommodation – they have several chalets scattered throughout the park – and she organises the displays and training sessions for the team. She also keeps the diary for the courses they run for anyone who wants to have a go at being a stunt rider.'