Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage (42 page)

‘She's ready to go,' I confirm, and he leads her to join the other horses. Neil and Dillon have three each, while Sally Ann has Scout.

‘I'll look after Maisie,' I offer, and we follow the rest of the family down to the arena, to where the crowds are milling around beneath a cloudless sky, waiting for the display to begin. The brothers trot the horses in circles in the collecting ring, working them in pairs and fours from the ground as a warm-up.

‘Daddy says I can have an ice cream,' Maisie says hopefully as we find a vantage point near one of the flagpoles that line the side of the arena. I take a deep breath of burgers, beer and baby wipes. I feel much calmer now.

‘Another one? Did he really?'

‘Yes,' she says slowly.

‘We'll see.'

‘That means no,' she says sadly.

‘It means maybe. Let's watch Daddy and Dillon first. We don't want to miss them.'

I look down. Having spotted the horses lined up at the entrance to the arena, Maisie is trying to clamber over the post-and-chicken-wire fence.

‘Here they are,' she calls excitedly. ‘That's my daddy. Go, Daddy.'

As the commentator introduces the Eclipse stunt team, I cross my fingers that the TV people are watching from the hospitality box and that the performance is a hit. I hope that they don't decide that Nelson's absence is a deal-breaker.

The music begins – it's dramatic, like a Wagnerian opera – and the brothers run in with the horses behind them. Robbie keeps Diva close and, as Dillon sets the others off, trotting circles and weaving between each other, Robbie has Diva rearing and showing off her moves. Gradually, the display builds in complexity and skill, and the music becomes more dramatic. Robbie and Dillon vault on to the backs of their horses, from where they guide four at a time around the arena. They turn from each end, bringing their horses to a halt and, sitting astride now, they encourage Diva and Scout to rear up and the others to jostle and throw up their heads.

The crowd gasps in awe. To the inexperienced eye, all looks well, but I worry about the mare. She flares her nostrils, exposing their cherry-red lining. A white foam of sweat, saliva and fear adorns her chest. She rears for a second time, going up so high that for a moment my heart is in my mouth, afraid that what Robbie predicted about her going over backwards is about to come to pass. He clings on with his powerful thighs, the effort of staying there etched across his face as he challenges the force of gravity. Diva brings her front legs down and I start to breathe again. Can she hold it together in the arena for the last few minutes?

Maisie slips her hand through mine and holds on with hot, sticky fingers. I glance down. She smiles and I smile back at a little girl I've grown fond of. Although we did our best not to involve Maisie, it's inevitable that I've become part of her life, and she's become part of mine.

I turn my attention back to the arena at the sound of a drum roll. Robbie and Dillon are at opposite ends of the arena. With a shout, they send their horses off at full pelt towards each other, their hooves thundering across the ground.

I know it isn't dangerous, that the moves are choreographed and the team has practised over and over again, but my pulse beats faster and Maisie's grip on my hand tightens. As the two teams of horses charge towards each other, Diva seems to change her mind. I don't know what distracts her – a bee, a balloon, something in the crowd – but she slows, gathers herself up and bucks with her head down and hind legs high in the air. Time stops. My heart stops. The scene in front of me travels in slow motion: Diva tipping Robbie over her shoulder and him flying through the air.

Even now I'm sure he'll be all right. He'll land on his feet like a cat, like he always does, take a bow and vault back on to wild applause. But he is catapulted headfirst towards the ground. He holds out his hands, but he's going too fast, flailing, running through the air, trying to right himself. The music continues into a crescendo of stringed instruments, horns and drums as his head hits the ground. The music stops. His body buckles, and crumples into the grass, and then … then nothing … no movement, just an awed and uncertain silence.

‘That is part of the show, I take it,' one nearby spectator mutters.

‘Daddy's fallen off,' Maisie observes in a tiny voice.

The mare gallops away to the exit, running straight through the rope, pulling up stakes and dragging them along with her. The people in the crowd try to get out of the way, screaming and crying. Maisie starts screaming too.

‘Stay here with me,' I tell her as I hold her back from climbing the fence to join her father in the arena. I can see Dillon cornering the other horses in the collecting ring with the help of some of the stewards, and Neil and Sally Ann running across to where Robbie has fallen. ‘Maisie, please wait,' I beg as I pull my mobile phone out of my bag and start to call the emergency services, but the commentator announces that someone is organising an ambulance so I put it away again. Dr Nicci turns up at the scene and I'm not sure what to do when every fibre of my being is telling me I should be there at Robbie's side, yet the best thing I can do for him right now is to look after Maisie.

Dr Nicci is kneeling on the ground at Robbie's side. Neil's face is ashen and Sally Ann is crying.

‘My daddy's hurt,' Maisie says.

‘The doctor's looking after him.'

Dillon and the stewards have head-collars on all the horses, including Diva, who has returned to rejoin her friends. Dillon is examining her legs. I think she's bleeding where the rope has cut into her flesh.

‘Please will the duty vet make their way to the main arena,' comes an announcement over the loudspeakers as the sound of a siren grows closer. The vet – Matt – arrives in his four-by-four at the same time as an ambulance comes bumping across the arena. Two paramedics in green jump out to assess Robbie's injuries. After they've had a conversation with Dr Nicci, there's another flurry of activity and a steward is sent to the commentary box.

‘Daddy's bumped his head,' Maisie says. ‘He should have been wearing a hat, shouldn't he? Sophia says we must always wear our hats when we ride our ponies.'

‘That's quite right,' I say distractedly.

‘Can we clear the arena immediately? All stewards to the collecting ring to help move the horses back to the lorry park,' the commentator says. ‘The air ambulance is on its way.'

‘It sounds like your daddy's getting a trip to hospital in a helicopter.' I'm trying to stay positive for Maisie's sake, but it isn't working.

‘I want to see my daddy.' Her voice rises to an ear-splitting, heart-wrenching wail.

‘Neil,' I call, waving to catch his attention.

He looks across and whispers something to Sally Ann before walking over to us.

‘I'm sorry. She wants to see her dad. I don't know what to do,' I say as Maisie reaches her hands out to her granddad, who lifts her over the fence and gives her a hug.

‘You come too, Flick,' he says, holding Maisie on his hip and offering me his hand to help me over the fence. I walk with him to the small crowd that's assembled around Robbie.

‘Daddy's very sleepy,' Neil says. ‘We're waiting for the air ambulance to come and take him to hospital where the doctors can find out what needs to be done.'

‘I wanna see him,' Maisie repeats.

‘You'll have to promise you'll stay with me, because the doctor is looking after him, and we mustn't get in their way.'

‘I promise,' she says.

‘This is Robbie's daughter, Maisie, and his girlfriend, Flick,' Neil says, ushering us through.

Some girlfriend I've turned out to be, I think, looking down at his upturned face as he lies on his back on a stretcher. He's deathly pale, and there's blood congealing at his temple. There's a pulse at the side of his neck – I recall kissing him there, pressing my lips to that very spot. His eyes are open and staring as if he's in shock, and I remember the shot of electricity that ran through me when we first touched, mouth to mouth. I want to throw myself down by his side and hold his hand and tell him everything is going to be all right. I want – no, I
need
to be with him. A tear trickles down my cheek. I brush it away.

The paramedics put a brace around his neck.

‘Clear the arena immediately. All non-essential personnel, please clear the arena,' announces the commentator as the sound of a helicopter comes thrumming through the air.

My heart lifts a little because the people who can save his life are here, yet in the next breath I'm swamped with despair that he is beyond help. I watch his eyes. His eyelids flicker then grow still, taking me back to when he fluttered them against my cheek, like the kisses of a butterfly.

‘Flick.' Someone – Neil, I think – gives me a gentle nudge. ‘We need to move. Can you take Maisie home, please? Sally Ann will go in the air ambulance if she's allowed and I'll drive to the hospital. We'll keep Dillon updated with any news.' He lets Maisie down, I grab her hand, and we run towards the collecting ring as the red air ambulance lands at the opposite end of the arena. Tripping across the grass, she sticks a finger in her ear at the rhythmic throb of the engine. The draught from the spinning propeller makes the flags flutter on their poles and a stray balloon jerks across the ground.

I turn to see the crew with a stretcher and kit, heading towards Robbie, and all I can do is pray that he'll be all right.

‘Come on, Maisie, we have to go home and look after the horses. Paddington will be wondering where you are.'

When we return to the lorry, all the horses are loaded, including Diva, which is a relief and one less battle to fight.

‘What's happening?' Dillon asks me. ‘I heard the helicopter …'

‘He's unconscious. He has a head injury, but they won't know how bad it is until they've got him to hospital. I'm assuming they'll do a scan.'

‘He's hurted his head,' Maisie says, reverting to baby talk.

‘Your dad asked me to take Maisie home. He and Sally Ann are planning to go to the hospital. From there, he'll keep you updated with progress.' Note that I say ‘progress'. I have to remain optimistic, for everyone's sakes, because no matter how much the brothers have fallen out and in with each other, Dillon is clearly distraught. ‘Are you okay to drive, or should we find someone else?'

‘I'll do it,' he says firmly.

‘I'll give you a hand with the horses when we get back.'

He runs his hands through his hair and swears out loud. ‘What happened? Robbie's always so careful. If it wasn't for that monster he bought—'

‘I'm not sure it was her fault.' I touch his arm. ‘Let's not play the blame game now.' One of the horses starts kicking the inside of the horsebox. ‘Let's get these guys home.' I just hope that Robbie comes home too, and soon, so I can say everything I want to say. I don't know what I'll do, how I'll ever recover if he doesn't.

It's the longest evening of my life. Dillon and I feed and turn the horses out with Maisie's ‘help' on our return to the yard. They seem unconcerned by their stressed-out human carers. Most of them have a good roll before dropping their heads to graze. Diva stands quietly nibbling at the hedge and flicking the flies away with her tail as the sun begins to set behind the hills, hailing the onset of dusk that falls like a curtain on the day's theatre.

Dillon and I spend a few minutes watching them. Maisie clings like a limpet to her uncle's leg. Louise called when she heard the news through the family grapevine, offering to have Maisie for however long we wanted, but Maisie insisted on staying at home, and I couldn't see any reason why she shouldn't.

‘I'd better take you home so you can have tea and go to bed,' I say. ‘Would you like to eat with us, Dillon?'

‘I'm going to meet Mum and Dad at the hospital. I'll give you an update later, unless there's any news beforehand.'

‘Give Sally Ann and Neil my love, and –' my voice fractures – ‘make sure you tell Robbie I'm thinking of him.'

‘Will do,' he says.

Maisie and I walk back to the cottage, holding hands. I unlock the door and push it open. Maisie turns the light on. There's a jacket hanging over the banister. It's Robbie's. I reach out and touch it as I pass on my way to the kitchen, swallowing a lump in my throat at the realisation that he isn't here.

I cope by keeping busy. I feed the dogs and hens under Maisie's supervision and dig around in the freezer for chicken nuggets, chips and peas for dinner. I'm not hungry, but Maisie finds an appetite. We sit down on the sofa in the living room rather than in the kitchen to break the normal routine. Robbie likes her to sit at the table.

‘My mummy went to heaven when I was a baby. Is my daddy going to die?' she says, as she squeezes ketchup on to her plate.

I choke on a chip and burst into tears.

‘It's all right.' She reaches out and rubs my back with the ketchup bottle. ‘Don't cry.'

I take the bottle and make an excuse that I need to put it back in the fridge. Maisie seems to be dealing with the situation better than I am, but when I return to the living room, the dogs are staring at an empty plate on the floor, and she is curled up, sobbing into a cushion.

‘I really want to see my daddy,' she cries.

‘Nanny is with him,' I try to reassure her, but she won't calm down until I call Dillon for an update. Even then, Maisie insists on interrogating him personally when he comes home after ten, way past her bedtime.

‘Thanks for dropping by,' I say, offering him a mug of tea.

He sits down on the sofa with Maisie on his knee.

‘He's had a scan,' he says. ‘That's all good – there's no sign of any fractures or bleeding.'