Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage (6 page)

The dogs try to drink from it.

‘They're big dogs,' I observe.

‘Irish wolfhounds,' Robbie says.

‘Robbie had this big idea they'd be part of the stunt team,' Dillon says.

‘It didn't quite work out though, did it?' Neil says.

‘It turns out that I'm good with horses, but not dogs,' Robbie says. ‘Not these two, anyway. As soon as you put them in an arena, they lose their heads. The only time we tried it was at the first show of last year, and I had to pay out a small fortune in compensation—'

‘I think it was me who paid those bills,' Neil cuts in with a chuckle.

‘What were they for?' I ask, wondering if Mel was right to be circumspect, and picturing a crowd of people with their limbs torn and bleeding after an onslaught by wolfhound.

‘Several ice creams, three burgers and a picnic,' Robbie says.

‘And a bottle of Bolly that they allegedly had over,' Neil grumbles lightly. ‘If they ever go into the ring now, they're on leads.'

I fit the cooled shoe, hammering in the nails one by one, then twisting the ends off and bending them over with clenching tongs. Nelson starts to fidget towards the end of the process – I'm not sure if he's uncomfortable or bored. Only when all four shoes are back on do I tidy the clenches. With the horse's foot resting on the tripod so I have both hands free, I rasp down any sharp edges, along with the hoof wall where it meets the shoe, to reduce the chance of cracks. Finally, I tap the clips into place.

‘Done,' I say happily.

‘Thanks.' Robbie unties Nelson. ‘Now I can take him out to play. I'm going to school him for half an hour. Why don't you fetch Scout, instead of standing there gawping, little brother?' He leads Nelson away.

Neil and Mel hang around with Dillon, chatting about business, horses and mutual acquaintances, while I shoe Scout. Just as I'm finishing off, Robbie reappears, accompanied by a young woman who's leading a small dark brown pony with a sway back, bony rump and flecks of grey around the eyes.

‘Flick, this is Kerry.' Robbie introduces us. She's in her early to mid-twenties – it's hard to tell because she has a slightly weather-beaten look from long hours working outdoors; but she's feminine and naturally pretty, with a heart-shaped face, strong cheekbones and long blonde hair tied back in a loose ponytail. She's wearing a navy sweatshirt, purple check jodhpurs and brown leather boots.

‘She's our head groom,' says Neil.

‘Your only groom, I think you mean,' she counters as she ties the pony up.

‘And quite a babe,' Mel says. ‘Easily winner of Rear of the Year.'

She smiles in a way that suggests she is quite used to his chat.

‘She keeps us in order,' Dillon says.

‘You mean she cracks the whip,' Mel cuts in.

She rolls her eyes at me.

‘I get this all the time. They're so immature.'

‘This is T-rex,' Robbie says. ‘He's my first pony. He's in his thirties. He used to be able to clear over three feet with ease, and always came home with loads of rosettes. Unfortunately, he's a bit much for my daughter. Maisie's seven and nowhere near strong enough to handle him. She wants to ride off the lead rein, but I don't trust him to look after her.'

I'm not sure what to say. This is an area where we have nothing in common. I select a hoof knife, pick up the pony's foot and trim back his toe. He has tough little feet and I bet he's never needed shoes. As I pick up the other front foot, he fidgets, trying to pull away. I hang on quietly, knowing that once I let him go, he'll realise that he can get away with it. He goes up and down again, twisting my back as I take his weight. Robbie tells him off.

‘Show him the rasp,' Mel says. ‘Don't stand for any of that nonsense.'

I prefer to work cooperatively, so I wait for T-rex to settle, keeping hold of his foot. When he does quieten down, he realises that it isn't worth fighting and lets me trim and rasp his feet without further incident. I glance across at Mel, who's walking away with Neil, and I can't help wondering if telling me the pony was going to be really naughty was a wind-up.

Kerry is talking to Robbie, one hand on his arm. I hear him ask her to get Dillon to help her bring in some of the horses while he waits for me to finish with T-rex.

‘I'll catch up with you in a minute,' he adds when she hesitates. It's enough to arouse my suspicion that their relationship might be more than that of professional rider and his groom, and my reaction – the briefest stab of disappointment – is enough to make me realise that I mind, even though I really shouldn't. I hardly know him.

‘T-rex's had his pedicure,' I say. ‘All done.'

‘I'll take him back to his stable,' Robbie says. ‘Thanks, Flick. By the way, that lot don't usually hang around when the farrier's here.'

‘The novelty will have worn off by the next time, I hope.' I change the subject before he disappears. ‘I don't know if you can help, but I'm looking to buy a few bales of hay.'

‘Yes, of course. We still have tons of the stuff from the winter. How much do you want?'

‘Ten would be great,' I say, thinking that I can store them in the spare loosebox at Mel's.

Robbie names a fair price.

‘It's a bit cheeky of me, but could you deliver them too?'

‘If you come and help me load the trailer –' a smile plays on his lips – ‘and buy me a drink sometime.'

‘Of course. Thanks, that's great.'

‘I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon, but I'm free in the evening. Drop by at six.'

‘I'll see you then.' I watch him lead the pony away before I return the anvil and trolley to the truck, and wait a few minutes for Mel to return so we can set out for the next yard.

We visit two more establishments, one north of a place called Talyford where I do two sets of refits. The shoes aren't worn, so I remove them, trim the hooves and put them back on until next time – six to eight weeks later, as long as the horse isn't doing too much road work. At the next and final yard, I replace a couple of sets of fronts – some horses can get away without shoes on the back.

On the way back to Furzeworthy, Mel talks about horses he has shod and the people he's met. He can talk for England, and I find myself switching off as I drive back through the lanes with a smile on my face because I'm going to see Robbie again tomorrow night.

‘Flick, did you hear that?' he says, interrupting my thoughts. ‘Are you listening to me?'

‘I'm sorry,' I mumble. ‘I was somewhere else.'

‘I was asking you what you're planning to do after you've done this stint for me.'

‘I thought you knew – I told you about my plans when I spoke to you on the phone. I'm going to buy a van and kit it out as a mobile forge so I can get my own round up and running.'

‘Not here though,' he says sharply. ‘Not on my patch.'

‘I wouldn't dream of it.' I pause. ‘Well, I might dream of it, but I wouldn't do it. I'm already on the lookout for an area where there's a shortage of farriers, perhaps due to retirement, for example.'

‘I'm not going to retire in a hurry. I can't afford to. The doc says this op gives me a fair chance for a full recovery.' Mel falls silent and I glance across to check he's still alive. My new boss is big and loud, but he's also scared. ‘I'd miss it if someone told me I could never do it again,' he says eventually. ‘That's shoeing, not sha—'

‘Okay, I get the idea,' I interrupt.

‘I'm sorry. Remind me to mind my tongue.' He changes the subject. ‘Do you fancy a beer on the way home?'

‘I'm all right, thanks. I really should get back for Rafa.' I hope I haven't offended him by turning down his invitation.

‘I'd forgotten you were one of those mad horse owners I see every day. Another time.' He's smiling. ‘I expect Lou will have some chores for me to do. She wants everything done before I go into hospital. That's what marriage is all about, I suppose: penance.'

‘I don't follow.' When I was going to marry Ryan, it was going to be the best day of my life, the start of a wonderful existence with my best friend, lover and – I can't quite bring myself to add ‘soulmate', because he so obviously wasn't. Looking back, it was Sarah, my BFF, who was my confidante while I was with him. I feel a little guilty now. She had a lot to put up with.

‘You'll find out when you get hitched,' Mel sighs.

I don't think there's much chance of that now, I muse. I can't imagine letting myself get that close to anyone again. In my experience, dating only leads to disappointment.

On our return to Wisteria House, I turn Rafa out and muck out the stable. I straighten his bed and sweep up outside ready for the morning. I notice that Ashley is watching. I offer him the broom. He shakes his head. I don't push it.

After a shower, I go down for dinner in the kitchen, where Louise dishes up ham, parsley sauce, peas and potatoes.

‘I ate with Ashley,' she says. ‘I hear you had a good day out with Mel.'

‘It was great,' I say, sitting down at the table.

‘What did you think of the Saltertons? Mel said you had quite a reception.'

‘They're an interesting family.' I'm not sure how to go on. ‘I didn't know Robbie had a daughter …'

‘Oh yes, it's very sad. Maisie lost her mum.' Louise shakes her head very slowly. ‘Carla and Robbie were teenage sweethearts. They were together for a few years until Carla fell pregnant – there was some kind of trouble from her parents over the pregnancy that made them split up. Carla died giving birth to Maisie. It was terribly sad. Tragic. She was young and so looking forward to being a mum.' Louise pulls a tissue from a box on the dresser and dabs at her eyes. ‘It still gets to me. We were pregnant at the same time. Maisie was born a couple of months before Ash. She never knew her mother.'

She glances towards the back door, which is open on to the garden, where Ashley is playing with a toy digger in one of the flowerbeds. ‘I won't say any more now. I don't want to worry him when his daddy is about to go into hospital. Anyway, Robbie's had to step up and he's been amazing, the best father anyone could wish for.'

I don't know what to say. Poor Maisie. Poor Robbie. It puts my problems into perspective.

‘He deserves to be happy after what he's been through, and there's nothing I'd like more than to see him find love again, but I'm not sure that he will. He's never short of female attention, but he never stays with anyone for very long. I don't know if it's because he's stuck thinking that there's no one in the world who can match Carla, or if he's simply not met the right person.'

‘I got the impression he and Kerry were close.'

‘If they are, Robbie's keeping it very quiet.'

A doorbell jangles in the distance.

‘I'd better get that. I'm expecting guests, so you'll have neighbours on your landing tonight. See you later.' She bustles away, leaving me with my dinner and my reflections on my first day at work. I gaze down at the Peppa Pig plaster that's peeling away from my finger, and my thoughts return to Robbie and a little girl who's lost her mother, which makes me wonder how I'd feel if someone called me to say mine had passed away when I hadn't spoken to her for weeks.

I pick up the business phone – I need to get mine repaired somehow – and call my parents.

‘To what do we owe this honour?' my mum says sarcastically when she realises that it's me.

‘I wanted to say hi and see how you and Dad were, and let you know that I'm okay.'

‘That's nice, I suppose. How's Rafa?'

‘He's settled into his temporary home.' The conversation is stilted and I'm not sure what else to say. ‘He bucked me off yesterday. How's Dad?'

‘You can ask him yourself. Here he is.' There's a crackling sound as she hands over the phone. ‘It's Felicity.'

‘Hello, how are you, stranger?' My father's voice is filled with warmth, making me feel guilty for not keeping in touch. ‘Is everything all right?'

‘All's well. I'm shoeing horses in a little place called Furzeworthy in Devon.'

‘You're happy?'

‘Very.'

‘Well, you know how your mother feels about that.'

‘I know, but I don't want to argue about it any more. I've made my choice and it's the right one for me. How are you, anyway?'

‘So-so,' he says. ‘The knees are playing up, but I can get about. Your mum and I are staying at the villa for a while.'

‘I didn't know you were away.'

‘You only have to ask.' His tone is sad rather than critical. ‘You're more than welcome to visit us in sunny Spain.'

‘I'd like to, but I can't at the moment—'

‘Your job,' he cuts in.

‘That's right. I'm covering for another farrier while he's in hospital having surgery.'

‘Never mind. We understand that you're busy. Keep in touch, won't you? None of us are getting any younger.'

I wish him goodnight and cut the call, glad that I got in contact with them and wishing that we could return to a time when we had an easier relationship and I was their golden girl, but that can't happen. I can't rewind the clock.

I'm on my own today. It's a great feeling, not having Mel looking critically over my shoulder or having to listen to his incessant chat. I've mucked out the truck, and installed an air freshener. I have a packed lunch – Louise offered me a good deal, much cheaper than the bakery in town – and I can relax knowing that, by the end of the day, I'll have a stack of hay for Rafa.

Even though I have no intention of getting involved with anyone while I'm here, I'm looking forward to seeing Robbie again. Not only is he easy on the eye, but I think we could be friends.