Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage (25 page)

‘Yes, I thought I was doing a talk.'

‘All you have to do is entertain them for an hour or so. Get them identifying the tools and saying what you use each one for. Don't let them handle them. One of them dropped a hammer a couple of years ago and broke their toe. One of the mums took them to hospital for an X-ray and a splint, and they were back in the saddle the next day.'

‘I hope they behave themselves.'

‘Sophia keeps them under control. If you run out of things to do, tell them the story of the Devil and the blacksmith, and why it's okay for farriers to hang horseshoes upside down. They love it.'

‘Thanks for the tip. Um, do you know what happened with Rambo? I've been meaning to ask.' I haven't really, but it seems like a good time.

‘I did it. I put the shoe back on.'

‘What about your back?'

‘It didn't take long. I have to start somewhere.'

‘Perhaps not quite so soon, though.'

Mel sighs. ‘You women are all the same. You sound just like Lou, telling me what I can and can't do.'

‘It won't be long before you don't need me any more. Should I start looking for another job?'

‘No, no. I couldn't do a full set, not yet.'

That's a relief then, I muse as he sugars his tea.

‘I'll see you later,' he goes on, leaving the kitchen. I'm still not sure what to make of him.

I drive to the garden centre on Stoney Lane, on the edge of Talyton St George. I could do with some retail therapy, but maybe not this kind, I think as I walk – between rows of ornaments, garden furniture and pet memorials – to the entrance, where the automatic door slides open into a humid world of fragrant and colourful plants, mingling with the scent of roast dinners and coffee.

What do you buy for a housewarming present? I survey the range of options, from beaten copper-effect cut-out wall decorations in the form of swirly trees and strange creatures (either hares with short ears or deer with long ones), to mirrors with ornate bejewelled borders. I examine the lamps with their patterned shades and ceramic bases, and wonder if Sarah would like one. She'd find it funny, but it goes against the grain, wasting money on something she'll car-boot or throw in the bin, when I'm of limited means.

I wonder about making a plant-holder from horseshoes, but decide that might look a bit cheap so, in the end, I choose a plant, an olive tree in an earthenware pot for the patio. I pay for it on my credit card and leave it outside Rafa's stable for the following weekend.

Later, when I'm watching TV in the snug, I check my mobile to find a text from Robbie.

Hope you had a good day. You're welcome to drop by any time. Don't be a stranger xx

I text back, wishing him goodnight, and then I hear nothing more from him until the Wednesday, when I receive a phone call while I'm driving between Uphill House and Nettlebed Farm. I answer on the hands-free.

‘Hello, Robbie, how are you?'

‘Oh, bearing up,' he says. ‘What's wrong?'

‘I wondered if I could ask you a favour.'

‘You can ask …'

‘It's about Nelson. Matt's been over this morning. He's gone back to the hospital to collect the X-ray equipment for this afternoon. It's rather short notice, but I was wondering if you could be here. Seeing as it's foot-related,' he adds quickly.

‘What time?'

‘About three thirty.'

‘I can do that.' I make a quick calculation and decide that I can postpone one of my visits by an hour or so. ‘Wouldn't it be better to have a chat with Mel? He has more experience of corrective shoeing than I do.'

‘No, no. It isn't just about the shoes. I'd like … I need someone who understands how I feel about Nelson to be here.' His voice trembles and breaks. ‘I'm terrified that it's going to be bad news, the worst.'

‘Oh, Robbie, I'm sorry.' A lump forms in my throat as I imagine the dreaded conversation with the vet, the one I imagine having every time Rafa has a runny nose or mark on his skin. ‘Of course I'll be there. I'm on my way to do a couple of trims, then I'll come to you.'

‘I don't know how to thank you.'

‘You don't have to.' Promising to see him soon, I drive on to Nettlebed Farm, past the ticket booth and into the petting farm. I park outside the visitors' centre and go inside to find Stevie, the owner and manager, a tall, well-built woman in her early thirties, with brunette hair and brown eyes. She's wearing make-up, royal blue overalls and navy wellington boots decorated with red and white dogs. She greets me, offering me a brew and cake from the tearoom.

‘Normally I'd love some, but I'm in a bit of a hurry today.'

‘Never mind. Next time, if you're willing to have a repeat battle with our donkeys.'

‘They can't be that bad,' I say, smiling.

‘Oh, you'll see. I've brought them in in advance – they hate being caught and they're quite handy with their teeth and back legs, so be careful.' We walk across the drive from the visitors' centre, which bears a sign reading ‘The Shed', to a farmyard with cob-and-thatch outbuildings, including a couple of stables. Stevie shows me to the furthest one.

‘They're tiny,' I say, looking over the door to find two miniature geldings, one a grey dun with sorrel highlights and one black.

‘They have more than enough attitude to make up for their small stature,' she says wryly. ‘I acquired them from Delphi Letherington. Do you know her?'

‘I shoe her horses.'

‘I won't say too much then. Suffice to mention that these two – Sneezy and Grumpy – were supposed to be fantastic with children, but it turns out that they prefer to eat them. I can't use them for petting. They're purely decorative. I should have sent them back, but when it came to it I couldn't bring myself to. They have a lovely life here – I envy them.'

‘I see.' They stand less than a metre tall at the withers, so they don't appear to be particularly challenging adversaries, but when Stevie enters the stable to grab the grey dun by the rope she's left attached to the head-collar, he swings his rump towards her and kicks out. She's ready for him, taking advantage of the element of surprise by grabbing the unsuspecting black one instead and leading him outside for me to make a start.

He's so low to the ground that I feel as if my back will break as I bend down and grapple with his feet. He stamps, kicks, nips and tries to run away. There isn't a moment when he isn't making some attempt to thwart me, and the second donkey is just as bad. It takes me an hour and a half to get their feet done. They might be stubborn, but I'm more determined than they are.

‘My husband Leo is one of the Talyton Manor vets. He keeps an eye on them, but hasn't the patience to deal with them when they play up. I'm sorry they took so long, but you're better with them than Mel,' Stevie says, as I rub the knots out of my back and collect up my tools. She pays me in cash and I carry on to Furzeworthy, where the sight of Cherry Tree Cottage reminds me of Robbie; as if I need a reminder, because he is never far from my thoughts.

Having parked on the yard and greeted the wolfhounds, I say hello to Dillon, who is leading one of the team's horses across to the wash-down area. Kerry is unloading bags of feed from the Land Rover.

‘Robbie's with Nelson,' Dillon says, nodding towards the stable, where Matt's four-by-four is parked outside. ‘Have you two had a falling-out?'

‘Not really. We've decided to stay friends, nothing more.'

‘I thought you'd got a bit of a thing going at the barbecue.'

‘It wasn't serious, just a springtime fling.' I glance towards Kerry, who's paused to answer her mobile. I don't think she can hear us.

‘Okay, I'm sorry if I've embarrassed you.'

‘It's fine. You haven't.'

‘Um, we could go out sometime if you fancy it,' he says, giving me a long hard look. ‘I wish you didn't look so shocked. Now that Robbie's out of the picture …'

‘No, Dillon.' I'm not sure how I feel. Surprised? Flattered? ‘Thanks for asking, but you aren't my type. Do you usually go about asking your brother's cast-offs on dates with you?'

He grins. ‘Occasionally. It's always worth an ask. It's all right. I'm not offended.'

Blushing, I walk across the yard to Nelson's stable, where Robbie is leaning against the door. He turns at the sound of my footsteps. His shirt has come unbuttoned, revealing a hint of the six-pack beneath. The familiar rush of attraction takes over, my skin tingling as I recall the touch of his mouth.

‘How is it going?' I ask as Matt emerges from the dark interior of the building with his X-ray machine.

‘I'm not sure, and there's part of me that doesn't want to know,' Robbie says. ‘I'd really rather not be here at all.'

‘I know.' I reach out my hand, but he turns away to help Matt, taking a plug from the electrical socket outside the stable, so he can put the equipment back in his vehicle.

‘We'll have a look at the pictures while Nelson snoozes. He's had quite a lot of sedation.' Matt sets up his laptop and examines the radiographs before talking us through them.

‘Is it bad news?' The muscle in Robbie's cheek tightens.

‘It isn't the best, but there are things we can do. It's navicular syndrome. Both of Nelson's front feet are affected. It's basically pain that's caused by changes in the bones, tendons and ligaments in the back of the heel.'

‘I was afraid it was something like that,' Robbie says, his hands in his pockets as we gaze at the screen.

‘It would explain why he was fidgety to shoe,' I observe.

‘What can we do? I need him sound. He's my lead horse.'

‘I know,' Matt says quietly. ‘If you'd said to me that this was a recent thing, and you wanted to use him as a quiet hack, I'd say great, he'll do okay for a while. However, he's in full work, he's already moving short-strided, and this is a progressive condition. I'm being straight with you. The prognosis for a return to the team is guarded.'

‘That's pretty much the worst news …' Robbie's voice fades as what the vet is saying sinks in.

‘We can investigate further with an MRI which, in my opinion, will confirm what we can see on the X-rays. We can try a shot of a bone-remodelling drug – he'd need to be in the hospital for twenty-four hours for that. We can change how he's shod to make sure the bones are lined up properly, taking some of the pressure off the heels. We can go for a surgical option, but there are no guarantees for a return to full athletic function.'

‘What would you do if he was your horse?' Robbie says, clearing his throat.

‘I can't tell you what to do for the best, but I'd go for corrective shoeing, painkillers and a controlled exercise regime to start with.'

‘And if he doesn't improve or he gets worse?'

‘Let's cross that bridge if and when we come to it.'

‘Okay, let's go with what you suggest.'

Matt turns to me. ‘If you can get some egg-bar shoes and pads on him soon, that would be great.'

‘No problem,' I say, glancing at Robbie, who nods his assent. ‘I'll order them and let you know when they arrive.'

‘I'll leave you with some bute to put in his feed,' Matt says. ‘Call me if you have any questions, otherwise I'll drop by and see him a couple of weeks after he's been shod.'

‘Thank you.' Robbie shakes his hand.

Matt packs up his equipment and puts it back into his car, before counting out some sachets of painkiller into a plastic bag and writing a label for it. He hands over the drugs and drives away. Robbie puts them away in the feed room. When he reappears, Kerry is with him, her arm around his back.

‘I'm so sorry,' she says.

‘He picked his moment,' Robbie says, returning to where I'm watching Nelson. His coat is dripping with sweat and his nose is almost touching the floor, after-effects of the sedative. ‘What am I going to do about the performance at the Country Show? What about the TV contract? I'm a horse short.'

‘You don't know that for sure.' Kerry gives me an ultra-sweet smile, but I am not deceived. ‘I'm sure Flick will be able to save the day.'

‘Corrective shoeing is only part of it,' I point out, but Robbie already understands that.

‘I'm really depressed about this.' His voice cracks. ‘There's no show, no team without Nelson. I can't do it without him.'

‘I know.' To me, Kerry's tone is grating rather than soothing. I don't like the way she's muscled in to console him. It should be me who has an arm around him. ‘One step at a time. There's still a good chance he'll be sound enough for work. There was a horse on my previous yard who had navicular – he was back doing high-level dressage within a couple of months.'

I refrain from mentioning the ones I've seen who had to be retired, as Kerry changes the subject.

‘Just to let you know before I forget, I've booked us that room for the weekend. There was only one left – the luxury suite with a king-sized bed. I can't wait.'

‘What did you do that for when I asked you to talk to me first?' Robbie's eyes darken with annoyance.

‘Because I didn't want to risk having to go to a different hotel from the rest of the wedding party because we'd left it too late to book. You said you were going to do it, but you never did, so I took it on myself.' Kerry moves aside. ‘I'll tack Diva up for you, then I'll do the water buckets on the yard so I can keep an eye on Nelson while you're riding.' She walks away, and I'm left with Robbie and a rising tide of anger. I know he's upset, but I don't hold back.

‘I'm glad I didn't come over to the cottage to talk the other day. As I suspected, it would have been a complete waste of time—'

‘She did that deliberately to put me in a bad light in front of you,' he cuts in.