Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage

by Cathy Woodman

  ‘Okay, I’ll go then.’ Dillon drops the end of the lunge line.

  ‘No way. Not today.’

  ‘Why not? You’ve just told me I’m no good.’ Dillon turns away.

  ‘Where are you going?’ I can hear the panic in Robbie’s voice as Dillon responds, ‘Back to bed.’

  Robbie swears. I feel sorry for him, but not as sorry as I could be, because he’s not handling the situation with any tact. This isn’t the time.

  ‘Come on, guys, let’s try again,’ I say, intervening. ‘You should be on the road by now.’

  Dillon walks off across the yard, with Robbie staring after him, open-mouthed.

  ‘What the hell’s he doing?’

  ‘What did you expect?’ I say. I can’t imagine the new groom will be impressed with her employers when she turns up on Monday.

  Robbie leads Diva up the ramp. She goes straight in, perhaps overwhelmed by the change in mood. I shove the gates closed and fasten the bolts, without giving her the option of reversing out again, then step away to help him close the ramp.

  ‘Well, she’s in, but we might as well start unloading,’ he says. ‘I can’t do much without Dillon. I don’t know what’s got into him.’

  I’m afraid that I do know what’s got into Robbie – it’s my fault that he’s like this. I should have done things differently.

  ‘Let me go and speak to him,’ I say, annoyed that Dillon is showing no consideration, when he knows what Robbie’s going through.

  ‘I don’t think that’ll do any good.’

  ‘I’m going to try. Give me five minutes.’ I run to the cider house, the converted barn in which Dillon lives, and bang on the door. ‘Open up!’

  ‘What do you want?’ he says gruffly, pushing it open. He has a glass in his hand and is still wearing his boots. ‘Did he send you?’

  ‘I came of my own accord. Listen to me. Don’t blame Robbie. He’s upset and it’s all my fault. You need to get yourself back to that lorry and go, or you’ll miss your slot, the Eclipse team will never ride again, and you’ll lose any chance of that contract.’

  ‘I don’t give a—’

  ‘You don’t now, but you will tomorrow,’ I interrupt. ‘You and Robbie have everything to gain. You’re a great team, the best. It would be completely devastating to throw it all away in a fit of temper.’

  ‘It isn’t me.’

  ‘It’s both of you.’

  ‘Well, I’m not doing it.’ He crosses his arms and scowls. I don’t know what it is – the pout, or the way he’s looking through his unkempt hair – but he reminds me of a little kid.

  ‘Okay, you can be as stubborn as you like. It’s your choice. Just remember that you’re not only wrecking your life, but you’re ruining Robbie’s and Maisie’s. How will her dad support her? How will you feel, knowing that your brother won’t be able to provide for your niece? Some uncle you are.’ I turn to walk away.

  ‘Flick. Wait.’

  I look over my shoulder. ‘What?’

  ‘I’ll do it. I won’t apologise, but I’ll do the show.’

  ‘I should think so too.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Robbie says quietly when Dillon climbs into the passenger side of the cab, ready to leave.

  ‘No problem. I’ll see you later,’ I say, the words catching in my throat.

  ‘It won’t be until eight or nine o’clock.’

  ‘That’s okay. I’ll be here. We’ll talk.’

  Robbie drives while Neil, Sally Ann and Maisie travel in the car. I watch them go and the yard falls silent, apart from the swallows chattering in their nests in the stables, and the distant sound of church bells. Someone is getting married, I think, and the aching sense of emptiness intensifies.

  I fetch the quad bike and muck trailer and drive it up to the fields, whizzing along with the wind in my hair. I have plenty to do to keep me occupied, but my mind and heart are overflowing with thoughts of Robbie. I continue to clear all the fields and scrub every trough and bucket until my muscles hurt. On my way back to the yard, I have a chat with Paddington, who stands with his head growing heavy in my arms. What am I doing? Don’t I want to stay here with my lover more than anything?

  Paddington utters a sigh of contentment as I rub his face. The wound on his nose has healed completely and his coat is sleek and shiny.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m going to have to disturb you. You’ll have to hold your own head up. I’ve got lots more to do.’ Sally Ann’s left instructions for the dinner tonight, and there’s plenty of tack cleaning to get on with. ‘Onwards and upwards,’ I say bravely, but as I return the quad bike to the barn, there’s a call from Robbie.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ I panic, wondering what I’ve forgotten to pack.

  ‘Diva’s pulled a shoe on the lorry. I’ve tried to take it off, but there are a couple of nails that won’t come out and she’s a bit sore. I’d ask another of the farriers who’s on site, but you know what she’s like. The other option is to leave her on the lorry and work with seven, but it won’t look so good. Or you could drop everything and drive here in your fancy van and save the day.’ From his tone, I’m not sure if he’s being sarcastic or defensive.

  ‘How long did it take you to get there?’

  ‘An hour, with the queue to get on to the showground. You could be here by twelve. We’re on at one. It’s cutting it fine, but I can’t see any other way.’

  ‘Give me the address for the satnav. I haven’t got time to get lost.’

  ‘Thanks. You wouldn’t believe the stress,’ he sighs. ‘This has to go well today, but everything seems to be conspiring against us. Badger’s been sick on Dillon’s cloak and we’ve run out of mascara.’

  ‘I’m on my way.’ I lock up the feed and tack rooms as we are speaking. ‘Is there anything else you want me to bring?’

  ‘A bottle of vodka for me and a couple of tubes of sedative for Diva. Only joking. I’ll see you soon.’

  ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’ I cut the call, and run across to the cottage to collect my keys and wash my hands and face. I head for my shiny new dark blue van and drive to the showground, following an ice-cream van. Eventually, I reach the entrance, where an elderly man in a fluorescent jacket tied around the middle with baler twine directs me towards the public parking.

  ‘I need to be in the lorry park.’

  ‘Have you got a pass, my lover?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘In that case, you need to go that-away. I can’t let people park willy-nilly and all over the place. It’s more than my life’s worth. The organiser of this show is like a ruddy Rottweiler.’

  ‘I’m the stunt team’s official farrier.’ Okay, I’ve promoted myself. It’s becoming a habit. ‘One of the horses has pulled a shoe. You must know the saying: No foot, no horse.’

  ‘Indeed I do.’ He rubs his chin, which is covered with silver stubble, as he ponders the options.

  ‘Oi, hurry up, we’re going to miss our class,’ someone yells from the horsebox behind me. Someone else sounds an air-horn, but nothing will hurry the man at the gate.

  ‘Patience is a virtue,’ he says. ‘More haste, less speed.’

  ‘We’re holding up the traffic,’ I point out.

  ‘Where are you from, maid? You aren’t from round here.’

  ‘I’m from Hampshire.’ I start to worry about fixing Diva’s shoe in time. ‘Can I go now?’

  ‘I suppose so. I can’t understand why everyone’s so impatient nowadays. Slowly but surely, that’s my motto.’

  One of many, I think, amused as I drive on. I park beside the Saltertons’ lorry, where Robbie is already made up and dressed in a black vest, leggings and boots. Maisie is with him, wearing a blue sundress, hat and sandals, accessorised with smears of strawberry ice cream. She greets me, and one of the dogs who’s lying in the shade of the lorry barks in welcome.

  ‘Maisie, go and sit on the ramp, please,’ Robbie says. ‘I don’t want you to come to any harm.’

  ‘But Daddy, I
wanna watch Flick shoe Diva.’

  ‘You can watch from the ramp. Don’t move … or else.’

  ‘Or else what?’

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t think of anything at the moment. Please, just for once do as you are told and without arguing.’

  ‘Daddy’s in a bad mood,’ she explains as she skips up the ramp and perches on an upturned bucket at the top.

  ‘I’m not,’ he says quickly.

  ‘Oh yes you are.’

  ‘Oh no I’m not.’ He smiles suddenly. ‘This isn’t a pantomime – I haven’t got time for this right now.’ He turns to me. ‘Do you think there’s time for this?’

  ‘It depends on what mood she’s in.’ I take out the anvil and trolley from the back of the van, along with a shoe in Diva’s size. Robbie unties her from the lorry and leads her towards the trolley. She snorts and gives me a look that means, ‘Don’t you dare touch me.’

  ‘This isn’t going to be easy.’ Her coat is dark with sweat and I can see that she’s pulled one of her front shoes – the nails are still embedded in the hoof, a potential danger to her and the other horses.

  ‘Let’s try. If it doesn’t work, we’ll go for plan B.’

  He means the seven horses.

  I approach Diva and let her sniff my hand. I stroke her neck and shoulder and bend down to pick up her foot. She strikes out, but I’m prepared, staying well to one side. Robbie shakes the rope and whispers something in her ear. When he gives me the nod, I have a second go when she lets me go as far as pulling out the remaining nails before she decides she’s had enough.

  ‘Do you want another shoe on?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s tempting to leave it, but she’s slightly footsore. I don’t want to risk our reputation by taking a lame horse into the arena. Someone’s bound to notice.’

  I don’t put the new shoe in the furnace. I check it cold against her hoof, but she still leaps upwards like a cat, knocking me sideways. Robbie gives her a stern telling off, which surprises me. I’ve never heard him raise his voice to a horse before.

  ‘Are you all right?’ He holds out his hand to pull me up.

  ‘I’m fine.’ I limp back to the anvil where I hit the iron into a better shape. ‘How much longer have we got?’

  ‘About ten minutes at a push.’ He calls his brother over. ‘Can you grab my cloak? It’s in the lorry.’

  ‘Let’s leave the mare here,’ Dillon says, striding across. ‘She’s a right pain in the arse. She’ll make us look like idiots. Don’t take the risk.’

  ‘I don’t take risks. You know me.’

  ‘I’m ready,’ I interrupt. ‘The shoe will fit well enough.’

  I pick up her foot. Diva tenses. Robbie growls at her. She settles and lets me hammer in the nails, clench them and rasp them smooth while he fastens his cloak.

  ‘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.