Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage (29 page)

‘A few thousand.'

He whistles through his teeth. ‘That isn't great.'

‘I was planning to put most of the money I'm earning working for Mel …' I correct myself. ‘… Was earning, towards paying it off.' Warm wet tears roll down my cheeks at the thought of my predicament. I'm grateful that he doesn't comment. ‘I don't know what I'm going to do. I guess I won't be setting up my own business for now. I can't afford a mobile forge and the bank won't consider giving me a loan. I'll have to look for another job, and quickly.'

‘I imagine you're paying a lot of interest on top.'

I nod. ‘I looked into consolidating my debts, but it didn't make sense - the interest rate and monthly repayments were going to be more than what I'm paying now.'

‘I'm sorry. Ryan seems to have got you into a bit of a pickle.'

‘He wasn't entirely to blame. I should have kept an eye on our finances.'

‘Yes, but it's no wonder you're wary of stepping into another relationship,' Robbie says as we turn into the drive. ‘It seems that he's derailed your life.'

‘You could put it like that. It's going to take me for ever to get back on track, so to speak. When I say that, I mean the financial part. My heart's mended. Seeing him at the festival took me by surprise. It was a shock to discover he was married, but I didn't feel jealous or hurt. I didn't look at him and think: I want you back. I was angry with him.'

‘Considering what you're going through, I'm not surprised that you decided to confront Mel. But, I mean, wouldn't it have been in your interest to keep your mouth shut? I understand how you feel about infidelity – I wouldn't stand for it myself – but haven't you rather shot yourself in the foot?'

‘It was the right thing to do,' I say mutinously. ‘I thought you'd be on my side.'

‘We both want to make sure Louise is okay. We have different ways of going about it. Please don't tell her about this,' Robbie tries again. ‘She's my cousin. I'm very fond of her.'

‘I still don't see why I shouldn't.' However, I recall how happy she seemed when she was telling me about their plans for their date night. If I make this revelation, I will destroy any chance of them continuing to work on their marriage. It seems as though I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't.

‘I spoke to Mel a little while ago, man to man. He said he was terminating the arrangement he has with his bit on the side.'

Which is what he was attempting to tell me after I caught him in flagrante, I think.

‘Perhaps they gave him too much anaesthetic. I reckon that major spinal surgery and the thought that your life is about to change makes you think about what you're doing and where you're going. He's realised he has to work on his marriage if they're going to stay together, and he can see what he has to lose if Louise divorces him.'

‘That's very philosophical of you, but I don't see why he should get away with it scot-free.'

‘He hasn't though, has he?' Robbie argues. ‘He's kicked you out so he hasn't got anyone to work for him. Isn't that enough for you, or do you think he should be hung, drawn and quartered, or dragged through the divorce courts, whichever is worse? Is it fair to put Louise and Ash through that?'

‘Doesn't Mel deserve it?'

‘Life's too short for revenge and retribution.'

I lean back into the seat. I'm exhausted. My arms, my back and legs ache. My heart is sore because even when I try to do the right thing, I seem to end up doing wrong. I had Louise's best interests at heart, yet Robbie seems to think I should have kept my mouth shut.

He parks the Land Rover in the yard.

‘Where would you like Rafa? In or out?' he asks.

‘I think he'd be better in a stable tonight, if that's okay.'

‘Of course it is. If you want to bring him out, I'll throw a couple of bales of shavings down in the stable over there.'

I open the ramp at the front and lead Rafa straight out on to the yard. He's damp, but warm behind the ears. He whinnies, and some of the other horses shout back from the paddocks.

‘He can have the stable next door to Paddington. We're keeping him in on a calorie-controlled diet because he's getting too fat on the grass. Diva's in too.' Robbie fills a couple of buckets from the tap while Rafa is settling in, snorting at his new surroundings. He wheels the barrow into the shelter of the barn, returning with my suitcase.

‘What about the flat?' I ask. ‘Couldn't I stay there?'

‘There's been a mains leak in the kitchen. There's no water at the moment and the floor needs stripping out, so it isn't an option I'm afraid. As I've said, you're more than welcome to stay with me and Maisie and the dogs.'

We walk together to the cottage, following the warm yellow glow from the porch-light and brushing past the roses, which shower us with glistening droplets of water. He unlocks the door.

‘Go on in,' he says, letting me pass. ‘You know where the bathroom is. I'll find you a towel.'

My forehead tightens.

‘You look like a drowned rat. You need to get out of those clothes and into the shower.'

I wish that he was about to offer to scrub my back but, much as I'd love it, we've gone past that. At least, I think so … I walk upstairs, with Robbie following close behind me, feeling a frisson of guilt for wishing that he had his eyes on my behind. I stop at the bathroom door and wait for him to hand me a towel from the airing cupboard.

‘Thank you,' I say.

I am chilled to the bone, and shaking with emotional shock. It isn't every day that you get the sack. I step inside the bathroom and close the door behind me. I strip off my wet clothes and stand in the cubicle and fiddle with the shower controls. No water. Cold water. Scalding water. I switch it off.

‘Are you okay in there?' Robbie's voice. ‘I forgot to show you how to work the shower – it's a bit quirky.'

‘You can say that again.'

‘Would you like me to show you? I promise I won't look,' he says lightly when I don't respond.

‘Just a minute.' I pick up the towel and wrap it around my middle. I glance down. It's more of a hand towel than a bath sheet, and there's no shower curtain to hide behind, just a sliding glass screen. ‘Come in.'

I'm aware that he's close. I keep my eyes averted, so as not to give him any clue as to how I'm feeling: naked, vulnerable, and wanting nothing more than for him to take me in his arms and hold me against his warm body. I notice in the reflection in the mirror above the basin that he's frowning and I wonder if he feels the same. His arm slides past my bare shoulder, sending shivers of goose bumps across my skin. He hesitates. I hear his breathing catch. I hold my breath.

There's definitely something going on. I can feel the electricity running between us. Is he going to kiss me? Would I resist if he did?

‘Let me take your towel,' he says gruffly. ‘It'll get wet.'

I unwrap it and thrust it into his hand.

There's a soft click as he turns the dial. A shower of water envelopes me with a welcome heat and Robbie disappears, leaving me with a sense of disappointment tinged with relief, because giving in to the temptation to kiss and cuddle would have made the situation more complicated than it is. We slept together and made an attempt to move forward together and it didn't work out, but I can't see how I'll cope with being ‘just friends' when I'm lodging with him at Cherry Tree Cottage.

I wash, turn off the water and start to dry myself, remaining in the cubicle for privacy because I'm not sure about getting dressed. I have no clean clothes, and even the wet ones have gone from the bathroom floor.

‘I've brought you some clothes from your suitcase. Unfortunately, they've got wet in the rain. I chose the driest from the middle, but if you think they're damp, I can put them through the tumble-dryer. There's a sweatshirt and jeans … and underwear.' I can just make out Robbie's silhouette through the shower screen. ‘No, these are too wet. Can I lend you one of my shirts as a cover-up?'

‘If you wouldn't mind, but not one of the see-through ones,' I call after him as he disappears again, returning with a crumpled shirt that he hangs over the towel rail.

‘I'll be downstairs,' he says, hurrying away. ‘Tea?'

‘That would be great, thanks.' I emerge from the cubicle and pick up the shirt, one very much like the one he was wearing when I first met him. I slip it on and fasten the buttons at the front. It's flimsy, but not see-through, and the ruffles cover my chest. It's long too, reaching partway down my thighs. I check my appearance in the mirror, run my fingers through my hair and head down to find Robbie.

He's in the kitchen, his back to me as he pours tea from a pot into two mugs, one with the Eclipse team logo and another reading ‘World's Best Dad'.

‘Hi,' I say gently. ‘Thanks for the shirt.'

He turns and looks me up and down appreciatively. ‘You look much better in it than I do. Take a seat.'

He places a mug of hot tea in front of me and we sit opposite each other at the table, as if we're deliberately keeping a safe distance between us. A mobile buzzes. Robbie passes my phone across the table.

‘I found it in your pocket. It seems to have survived the rain,' he says.

I check to find a text from Louise.

Hi Flick. I'm sorry about my husband. He told me what happened and how Robbie's taken you and Rafa in for the night. I'm sure we can sort this out, if we all sleep on it. See you in the morning. xx

I text back.

I'm sorry too. I'll be round to pick up the rest of my things between 9 and 10 am if that's okay. x

She replies.

We'll talk then. xx

He hasn't told her, has he, I think?

I look across at Robbie.

‘Louise wants me to talk to Mel. She thinks we can resolve everything and start again, but I'm not going to. I can't go back.'

He frowns.

‘Are you absolutely sure about this?'

I nod. ‘I don't want to go back to work for him. It isn't just about me walking in on his extramarital activities. He resents the way his clients have started asking for me. He's afraid I'm going to take business away from him eventually. I wouldn't. I'm not like that.'

‘What about the saying, every man for himself? If they want you to shoe their horses, you should go for it.'

‘I don't have my own forge. Though if I did, I might just consider it, out of revenge for how he kicked not just me, but also my horse, on to the streets tonight.' I shake my head and then look straight at Robbie. ‘Thanks for putting us up.'

‘It's no trouble. I've said so. There's a spare room here. I'll make up the bed for you.'

My heart scrunches into a tiny ball as he makes it clear that we will be sleeping apart.

‘Would you like a nightcap? I've got some brandy – for medicinal purposes and cooking.' He doesn't give me the option to refuse, getting up to find two glasses and a bottle of alcohol from one of the cupboards. He pours me a generous measure and pushes the glass towards me. ‘There you are.' He sits down again, stretching his legs out, and making contact with mine, his jeans rough against my skin. ‘I'm sorry,' he says, withdrawing quickly, as if he's stepped on to burning coals.

‘It's okay. I don't mind.' I hesitate. ‘Actually, I could do with a hug.'

‘Do you think that's wise?' His eyes are on my neckline, where the collar of his shirt dips away to reveal the curve of my breasts.

‘I'm not sure …' The brandy slides down my throat, radiating rays of warmth through my body.

‘I don't think we could stop at a hug, do you? And if we did end up in bed, you might not be terribly happy about it in the morning. I don't want you having any regrets. As you've said yourself, it's complicated.'

I shake my head as I remember the last time he held me in his arms. ‘You're probably right.'

‘This is one occasion when I
know
I'm right,' he says with a smile. ‘I don't want you to wake up and change your mind again. I have feelings too, and I'm not sure I can cope with any more drama. I have enough of that in my life already.'

I guess he's thinking of Diva and Maisie.

‘Let's see how we feel in the morning in the cold light of day. If it makes you feel any better, you were right about Kerry as well. I feel like I've been a bit of a bastard.'

‘Can you be “a bit” of a bastard? Isn't it all or nothing?'

‘What do I know about anything?' He tries and fails to suppress a yawn. ‘I'm shattered. It's been a long day – Diva was being a diva again. Let me show you to your room.'

I follow him upstairs, past the bathroom, the door with the sign reading ‘Maisie's Room', and the room where Robbie and I spent our precious night together, to the next and last door on the landing. He turns the brass handle, pushes the door open and turns on the light.

‘I haven't been in here for a while,' he says, moving inside to open the window and close the curtains. ‘It probably needs airing.' He clears the bed of papers, boxes, and what appears to be laundry, placing everything on the polished oak floor. I watch, leaning against the cool cob wall, listening as the door slowly creaks closed and the water drips from the roof outside, splashing on the stones outside. The room is painted white and there's a child's cot folded up and leaning against the dark wardrobe, which matches the beams that run across the ceiling.

‘Can I do anything to help?' I ask, as I inhale the musty scent of dried rose petals and vanilla.

‘There are sheets and covers in the airing cupboard in the bathroom,' he says. ‘I have a spare duvet somewhere.'

We make the bed up together before he retreats to the door.