Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage (38 page)

A young woman looks up from where she's sitting marking a pile of exercise books at a table beneath the arched windows at the back of the classroom. She's about twenty-seven, with freckles and flame-coloured hair tied back in a ponytail, and her clothes – an emerald blouse with a blue-and-green scarf, a pair of linen trousers and sandals – are as bright as the artwork on the walls.

‘Hello, Maisie,' she says. ‘Why aren't you waiting outside?'

‘Miss Fox, this is Flick. Flick, this is my teacher.'

‘Hi,' I say. ‘I'm sorry for disturbing you. Maisie said it was okay.'

‘Flick is going to be my mummy.'

‘Oh, that's lovely news,' Miss Fox says. She seems rather distracted.

‘That isn't right,' I say gently as Maisie looks up at me. Her lip wobbles and a tear wells up and rolls down her cheek. ‘I'm a friend of the Saltertons. I've been staying with Maisie's father – I mean, lodging with Maisie and her dad for a while. Someone's got the wrong end of the stick.'

‘Never mind.' Miss Fox stands up and walks over to rest her hands on Maisie's shoulders. ‘Let's have a chat about this while we're getting the exercise books and number lines out ready for Maths today.' She gazes towards me. ‘I'm afraid this happens quite a lot. Our lovely Maisie is always on the hunt for someone she can call “Mummy”, even though she has a wonderful daddy and devoted grandparents … She'll be fine,' she adds for my benefit, because I'm gutted for her.

I understand why Robbie is so protective. He's right to keep our relationship from her while we're working things out. As it is, she's going to be sad when I leave Cherry Tree Cottage, but it would be ten times worse for her if she'd built us up in her imagination into one happy, forever family.

On my way back to the Land Rover, I run into Louise, who is leaving the school at the same time.

‘Long time no see,' she says. ‘I missed you when I brought Ash for his latest therapy session with Robbie. I thought I'd catch you on the yard.'

Okay, I was hiding, I think, but I don't fess up.

‘How is he?' I ask.

‘He's very well, thank you. Mel took him to play crazy golf the other day – it doesn't sound like much, but it means everything to me that Mel's taking an interest in him.'

‘I think you're a great mum.'

‘You do what you have to do when you're a parent. Do you want children?'

‘I'm not sure,' I say slowly, wondering at my change of opinion. What has happened to the woman who used to say, ‘No, never'?

‘Your mind will turn to babies once you have your business up and running.'

‘There's a lot that has to happen first.'

‘Robbie's a decent man,' Louise says, her eyes sparkling with humour. ‘You could do worse than settle down with him.'

‘I do like him very much, but it's complicated.'

‘So I shouldn't buy my hat just yet,' she teases.

‘Ha ha,' I say wryly. ‘No, seriously, we're keeping it low-key, partly for Maisie's sake and partly for ours.'

‘I think it would be a shame if you had to move far from Furzeworthy, but don't tell Mel I said that. I know we warned you off taking Mel's clients, but the truth is that he has more than enough work – if you settled here, he could have an easier life, and Ash and I would get to see more of him. Have you got yourself a van yet?'

I shake my head. ‘Robbie and I are going to the local auction house today.'

She wishes me luck and gives me a brief hug, and I'm glad that I didn't say anything about Mel and Gina because it would have made things between us very awkward.

After lunch, Robbie and I make our way to the local auction house, F. Oak and Sons Auctions, which is based in an industrial unit on a nearby farm.

‘Are you sure about this?' I say, as we walk across the tarmac towards the building, passing crates of scrap metal that Robbie assures me are engine parts, a rubber dinghy, and a stone nymph that appears to have been modelled on some surgically enhanced celebrity. One of her generous breasts is covered by her stone robe, while someone has stuck a numbered sticker to the other.

There are people – mainly men dressed in fleeces, camouflage jackets, jeans and heavy boots – wandering around looking at the items for sale. Most of the potential buyers appear bewhiskered and dusty, much like the lots on view.

‘How do we know that this van is any good?' I go on.

We walk on through the building where the auction is already under way. The auctioneer stands on a lectern, holding a gavel tucked into his palm, and speaking so quickly that I can hardly catch what he's saying. Behind him is a screen with the current lots highlighted. In front is his audience, some seated on benches and chairs, some standing.

‘Sh, otherwise he'll think you're bidding,' Robbie whispers as he catches my hand. ‘I don't think you want a parachute, although it might come in useful to slow your fall when you next come off Rafa.'

‘Hey, I can see where Maisie gets her cheek from.'

We head on through to the yard, beyond where there is a row of vehicles: two vans, one white, one blue; an ancient grey tractor, a motorbike and a silver saloon car.

‘It's the blue one,' Robbie says. ‘The keys are inside. I checked with the guy in the office when you were registering to bid. He says we can run it.'

‘It isn't the same as a test-drive, is it?'

‘What else do you suggest? The guide price is within your budget. It might go for less, in which case you'll have bagged yourself a bargain, or it might spiral out of your reach, in which case we'll have to keep looking.'

‘We?' I look at him.

‘Of course.'

‘I love the way you talk about us as a team.'

He smiles softly. ‘We are, aren't we? You sold me your horse, and in return I'll make sure you find a van.' He guides me towards it and opens the driver's door. ‘Jump in.'

I adjust the seat and turn the key in the ignition. It starts first time and runs smoothly, apart from a slight rattle. We check the outside and investigate the back. I'm no expert but it looks sound for its age.

‘It's exactly what I need,' I say to Robbie. ‘Oh-mi-God, it sounds so manly getting excited about a van.'

‘You aren't manly in the slightest.' He laughs and gives me an affectionate squeeze. ‘I reckon this one will do if you get it for the right price. Gary will service it and make sure it's safe.'

I'm already picturing the furnace and aluminium fittings in the back, and ‘F. Coleridge, Farrier' printed along the sides. I've placed an order for the fixtures that I need and I'm waiting for them to be delivered to the garage.

‘What time is the auction for these?'

‘Four thirty. There's plenty of time for a burger and tea first. Louise is having Maisie after school and Dillon is doing the horses with Dad – I could get used to this.'

We sit on plastic chairs outside the refreshment van, with drinks and cheeseburgers with extra onions. The chairs have tatty stickers on them, as if they didn't sell at previous auctions. Robbie stretches his long legs out in front of him. I rest my feet against his.

‘Thanks for taking Maisie to school this morning. Was she all right?'

‘She tried to tell me that you bought her sweets every day.' I smile, then grow serious again. ‘She also dragged me into the classroom to meet her teacher, Miss Fox.'

Robbie sighs fondly. ‘I'm not entirely surprised.'

‘She introduced me as her future mummy.'

‘Oh dear.' He sips at his tea and takes a mouthful of cheeseburger. A string of fried onion dangles from his chin.

‘You have a …' I say, reaching across to point it out.

‘Thanks,' he says, flipping it into his mouth. He gazes at me, his eyes twinkling with humour. ‘I can see where she's coming from – that was quite a mumsy thing to do.'

I'm not sure whether to be offended or flattered. I go with the latter. My cheeseburger remains untouched in the cardboard tray on my lap.

‘I'll have a word with her. She's spent much of her life looking for a mum, even though I've done my best, with the help of her grandparents, to keep Carla's memory alive for her. Maisie doesn't remember her, of course, which makes it much harder.'

‘It's made me realise why you're so protective over her,' I say. ‘She was in tears – I left Miss Fox looking after her.' I don't reveal that I wanted to take Maisie straight home and mother her.

‘She'll be fine. She's pretty resilient – she's had to be.' He changes the subject. ‘When you get a van and Gary's kitted it out, you'll be able to shoe our horses. Dennis is desperate for new shoes – one of them is only just hanging on.'

‘Much as I'm enjoying being your groom, I'm looking forward to getting back to what I love most.' I've missed the sounds and smells, the hollow ring of metal against metal and acrid scent of smoking hoof. I've missed the sheer physicality of pulling shoes and hammering nails. ‘I can't wait to get back out there.'

‘Which is good news, because we've found someone to work for us. Dad told me this morning that he'd had an approach from a woman who's relocating from Yorkshire with her fiancé. He's got a job with Stevie as their marketing manager at Nettlebed Farm, while she's looking for yard work. She's very experienced – she's been working with racehorses for the past two years, so we're hopeful that she'll cope with us.'

‘I'm sure she will – I did.' I'm smiling, but in my heart I'm confused at my reaction to his revelation. It makes the fact that I'm moving on soon all the more real. When the new groom arrives, the Saltertons won't need me any more. It won't be long before I have to move out of Cherry Tree Cottage and throw all my energies into setting up my business. ‘When does she start?' I ask.

‘A week on Monday. Mum's booked the builders to come in and redecorate the flat.'

‘Good. That's great.' I pick at the cheese in my burger – it's cold and congealed.

‘You'll be able to stay on,' Robbie says. ‘Flick, this is all working out. You get your van and set up your business here, starting with our horses. You'll soon pick up clients. Remember what Matt said about people asking for you. It's perfect.'

‘I'm not convinced that I can find enough work in this area though.' When Louise said that there were plenty of potential clients, I don't think she meant there were enough to provide a living for two full-time farriers. ‘I need to be out there earning.'

‘But you won't have so many outgoings now that you've let Rafa go.'

‘I know,' I say, as another wave of sadness hits me. ‘Here, have this – I don't want it.' I hand him the cheeseburger.

‘I shouldn't,' he says, but he does. He eats it in three mouthfuls. ‘You can stay at the cottage. I'm more than happy to support you while you're building up your round.'

‘No, absolutely not,' I say quickly.

‘I thought we were friends.' He leans closer and rests his hand on mine.

‘We are, and I don't want to be beholden to you, to anyone.'

‘This is because of your ex, isn't it? I completely understand why you want to keep your independence, but I'm not asking you to give it up. Why can't you see that I'm offering you help so that you can stand on your own two feet in the future? Okay, I have an ulterior motive, I'll admit that. I'm falling in love with you, and I can't bear the thought that you're going away and I'll never see you again.' He takes a breath before plunging on. ‘We could have a wonderful life here with Maisie and the horses, if you'd give it a chance. All you have to do is agree to stay and we can carry on as we are.'

‘As we are,' I echo. ‘Well, it wouldn't be, would it? I'd be a kept woman—'

‘For a while,' Robbie says. There's a small smile on his lips, as if he thinks I'm joking about it.

‘And we'd still be creeping around behind Maisie's back?'

‘Until we're certain that we're going to stay together. Until we're sure that you aren't going to disappear off to the outer reaches of the universe to shoe horses.'

I sit back. He's done it again. If this really could be love, he wouldn't keep doing this, hinting at commitment, then backing off. I look at him, really look at him, and I'm torn between love and despair. I adore this man, yet – apart from the practical obstacles – there is this one element of his character that keeps coming between us and the happy-ever-after: his fear of upsetting Maisie.

‘So, what are we going to do?' he asks me. The muscle in his cheek tightens as he awaits my answer. His expression is gentle and supplicating, reminding me that he's also a good man – generous, kind, fit, gorgeous … I could go on.

‘We'll carry on as we are for now,' I say.

‘Thank you,' he breathes. He leans across and kisses my cheek. ‘You won't regret it.'

We sit quietly for a while before going to wait near the vehicles for the auctioneer to get started. Two of his minions bring his lectern. Dressed in a cream linen suit, tie and white shirt, and shiny brown loafers, he takes the stand. He adjusts his half-moon spectacles, and peers over the top of them into the gaggle of people who have assembled to watch the sale.

The white van goes for a couple of thousand pounds, then the auctioneer runs briefly through the details of the blue one. My pulse starts to flutter and I can feel my fingers crushing the rolled-up catalogue that I carry in my hand.

‘Who would like to start me at fifteen hundred?'

No one, it seems.

‘One thousand. Come on, ladies and gentlemen, this is worth at least double the price.'

Robbie gives me a nudge. I hold up my hand.

‘One thousand, thank you,' the auctioneer says. ‘Eleven hundred, new bidder.'