The Scent of You

by Maggie Alderson

  Chum laughed and the horse’s head appeared over the door again.

  ‘Hello, lovely one,’ he said, kissing its cheek. ‘Don’t get jealous, Polly, but I do love my horse.’

  ‘She’s stunning,’ said Polly. ‘I don’t blame you.’

  ‘I can’t promise she won’t get jealous of you, though.’

  He fished around in his inside pocket and produced an apple.

  ‘Give her this, it’ll help.’

  Polly took it and saw Chum’s eyes crease in approval as she put it on her hand and held it out, fingers flat. She felt the tickle of the horse’s dry lips on her palm and stroked behind Sorrel’s ears with her other hand. The horse nudged her gently with her head.

  ‘She wants another one,’ said Chum, ‘but bribes aside, she definitely likes you. This makes me happy.’

  ‘And my children liked you, which makes me happy,’ said Polly.

  Chum put his arm around her waist, kissing the top of her head. She heard a commotion behind them and turned round to see two young women in jodphurs and boots filling buckets with water from a hose. Polly could see they were pink from giggling and were sneaking looks at her and Edward. One of them dropped a bucket and the water splashed everywhere, making them both laugh more.

  ‘They’re my stable girls,’ said, Edward, smiling indulgently. ‘Sophie and Lottie. They’re good eggs. I’ve just arranged for them to stay late tonight and lock up for me after the last riders have gone.’

  ‘They seem very amused by something,’ said Polly.

  Chum laughed. ‘Seeing me with a female who doesn’t have four legs, probably,’ he said. ‘Right, I’ve given myself the afternoon and evening off, so let’s make the most of it.’

  He gave Sorrel one last pat.

  ‘Goodbye, beautiful, see you in the morning,’ he said, then he turned to Polly, pulling her closer to him. ‘Hello, also beautiful.’

  With his arm still round Polly’s waist, he turned back towards the girls, who were now lugging the buckets of water over to the far row of stalls, but with their attention still glued to Edward and Polly.

  ‘See you tomorrow, girls,’ he called out.

  ‘Bye, Edward,’ replied the blonde one. ‘Have a good night.’

  The two of them turned away, clearly helpless with laughter.

  ‘What are they like?’ said Chum, shaking his head fondly.

  ‘Young?’ suggested Polly. ‘I can remember feeling like that.’

  ‘You make me feel like that again,’ said Chum, and taking her hand he led her towards a small gate on the far side of the yard, whistling for the dogs as he went.

  Chum’s house turned out to be a small red-brick cottage with white-painted windows, a hundred metres or so on the other side of the gate.

  ‘This used to be the head gardener’s gaff,’ he said, pushing open the door, which wasn’t locked. ‘When it was still part of a working estate. Now it’s Chez Chum.’

  The dogs raced in first and Artemis stood by a closed door looking intently at Chum, willing him to open it. He did, and the lurcher ran through, keenly followed by Digger.

  ‘It’s like she’s showing him round,’ said Chum, laughing. ‘“Here’s my water bowl, this is where I sleep, these are my toys . . .”’

  He hung their coats on hooks in the narrow hallway then took her through to a small sitting room. It felt quite damp, and everything looked a bit shabby – without any ‘chic’ aspect. The furniture was a random mix of bits and pieces, and none of it looked personal.

  ‘I’ll get the fire going,’ said Chum, kneeling at the hearth and starting to roll up pieces of newspaper. ‘Would you like some more tea? Actually, I think I’ve had enough of that for today; it’s only four o’clock, but shall we have a drink? It is Friday.’

  ‘I’ll get them,’ said Polly, spotting a shelf with bottles on it. ‘Gin?’

  Chum gave her a thumbs-up.

  ‘The kitchen’s through that door there,’ he said, pointing behind her. ‘There’s tonic in the fridge.’

  Polly walked into the kitchen and stood for a moment looking round, wondering where the glasses would be. It was pretty grim, and didn’t look as though it had been redecorated since the 1980s. The cupboard doors were an ugly oatmeal brown, the finish peeling off at the corners. The tap was dripping into a stainless-steel sink and there was one cereal bowl, one spoon and one mug in the drainer.

  It was the sad kitchen of someone who ate breakfast alone every day – and came back later to find it all exactly as they’d left it in the morning. Just what hers had been like before Shirlee had made it into a bustling hub of fun and friendship.

  She remembered how cosy Granny’s parlour had been at Hanley Hall. And that dining room with seating for forty people. Poor Chum indeed.

  She’d just found some dismal tumblers, which looked as though they’d been free from a service station, when Chum walked in. He stopped in the doorway holding a half-made paper spill in one hand.

  ‘This isn’t working, is it, beauty?’ he said, chucking the piece of newspaper onto the countertop.

  Polly shook her head slowly, not wanting to hurt his feelings. He came over and put his arms round her.

  ‘You know it’s not my place,’ he said. ‘I had a lovely house on the estate at Hanley Hall, but my sister-in-law changed the locks. All my stuff’s still in there; that’s just one of the battles I’m fighting against her. My friend who owns the stables here very kindly offered this cottage with the job and I haven’t bothered getting anywhere better because I’m still hoping to get my own place back. It’s the second son’s official res . . . supposed to be mine to live in until I drop off my perch, but Flavia doesn’t seem to think laws apply to her.’

  He pulled her closer, resting his head against hers, and they stood for a few moments saying nothing, the silence broken only by the tap dripping into the sink.

  ‘I’ve had an idea,’ said Chum suddenly, pulling back and looking Polly up and down, nodding. ‘Yeah, this will work. Just give me one minute.’

  He headed out of the kitchen at speed and Polly heard his feet clatter up the staircase, while she sat on the arm of the sofa watching Digger and Artemis pulling on two ends of a rubber pheasant.

  ‘Do you think that’s your pheasant, Digger?’ she said. ‘Yours is at home, that’s Artie’s toy and you’ll just have to share it.’

  She was about to intervene in the canine squabble, when Chum appeared in the doorway. He’d changed into a pair of black jodhpurs, with riding boots and gaiters up to his knees. Polly felt her eyes snap open wide.

  He took her jacket down from the peg, holding it out for her to put on.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’re going for a ride.’

  Polly closed her eyes and thought of nothing but the sound of Sorrel’s hooves drumming across the ground, the fresh air on her face and Chum’s arms around her, holding the reins.

  Riding with someone so completely confident on a horse was like experiencing it for the first time. She opened her eyes again, feeling exhilarated by the speed, the beautiful countryside and the wonderfully bracing air. It seemed purer at the height of a horse’s back somehow, enhanced by Sorrel’s warm smell, the green note of grass as it was crushed beneath the cantering hooves, and a faint trace of Equipage from Chum.

  ‘You all right?’ said Chum, into her ear. ‘Not finding bareback too uncomfortable? How do you like Sorrel?’

  ‘I’m fine, and she’s magnificent,’ Polly said, leaning back into him and loving the feel of his body behind her, his thighs gripping hers.

  He steered to the right, up a gentle slope, and as they crested the rise Polly gasped with surprise, looking down onto a wooded valley with a lake stretching away from them.

  Chum reined Sorrel to a halt and let her graze while they took in the view.

  Polly turned round to look at him.

  ‘It’s so beautiful,’ she said. ‘Where are we?’

  He pointed with his finger, resting his chin o
n her shoulder.

  ‘If you look just to the right of that big copse down there, you can see Hanley Hall in the distance,’ he said. ‘Capability Brown put this lake in.’

  ‘Is it the one we could see from Granny’s parlour? In the moonlight?’ asked Polly.

  ‘That’s it,’ said Chum. ‘We’re looking at it from the other side here.’

  He pulled Sorrel’s head up and clicked his teeth for her to walk on, and they made their way down the slope towards the lake. As they got closer, Polly could see a white building through the trees.

  ‘Is that where we’re going?’ she asked.

  ‘Yep,’ said Chum. ‘It’s one of the Hanley follies. This one is called the Temple of the Four Winds. It’s my favourite.’

  When they arrived at the building, he jumped off and helped Polly down, then tucked the reins in at the horse’s neck and left her under the trees.

  ‘Will she be all right just loose like that?’ asked Polly.

  Chum nodded. ‘As long as she’s got grass and knows I’m near, she’ll be perfectly content.’

  He led the way round to the front of the building, stopping by the door to lift up a rock, which revealed a large old key. He grinned at Polly, holding it up.

  ‘This key has been under that rock as long as I can remember,’ he said. ‘Probably since they finished building this thing in 1756, actually.’

  ‘I wonder how many generations of your family have known where to find it,’ said Polly.

  ‘All the naughty ones,’ said Chum, turning the key in the lock and opening the double doors.

  Polly walked in to find a circular room with a domed ceiling painted dark blue, with a compass carved into it. Alternating with domed windows, there were niches in the walls containing classical style statues. A low stone bench ran round the perimeter of the room.

  Chum opened double doors to the left and pulled out some rugs.

  ‘We can sit on one of these,’ he said, ‘and wrap ourselves up in the others, if they’re not too stinky, and look at the lake.’

  ‘So you always keep a stash of bedding in there, do you?’ said Polly.

  ‘There’s all sorts in here, have a look.’

  Polly went over and saw that the small room, illuminated by windows to the rear, was full of old garden furniture, barbecues and beach mats.

  ‘There’s an inflatable dinghy in the room on the other side,’ said Chum. ‘Fishing rods, kayaks. My brother and I spent many happy days here in our youth. Pretty funny, when you think of the house we lived in, but we loved it down here. One summer holiday we camped here like savages, just going home to steal more supplies. We’d paddle across the lake in our kayaks and try to get in and out of the house without anyone seeing us. I wonder if parents would let their kids do that now? We had our horses down here with us too. Good times. The house was open to the public then, but not this part of the grounds.’

  He went over to the door and gazed out over the lake, looking wistful.

  ‘I miss Charlie so much,’ he said. ‘He was my best friend, and this place makes me feel connected to him, remembering the boys we were. Watching the sun go down over the water here is pretty special. It was a spur-of-the-moment idea tonight, so it’s not set up, but we’ll do it properly some time.’

  If the oligarch doesn’t get here first, thought Polly, and put hot tubs in.

  Chum made a little nest with the blankets on the steps of the building and sat down, smiling at Polly.

  ‘Come and get cosy,’ he said.

  She sat down, too, and he arranged a blanket around her shoulders, then started rummaging around inside his Barbour.

  ‘I think that game pocket of yours is like Mary Poppins’s carpet bag,’ said Polly. ‘What’s in there now? A standard lamp? An aspidistra?’

  Chum smiled and held up a hip flask.

  ‘Brandy,’ he said. ‘Want some?’

  She took a sip and he had a deep swig, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Then he turned to her, and taking her face in his hands, started to kiss her.

  As his tongue slid into her mouth, Polly felt everything melt away, until she was just in that moment, in that place with him.

  And, as always, when Chum’s mouth touched hers, that spark ignited inside her, so that very quickly, the kissing escalated into something much wilder, like they were trying to consume each other. Fully clothed, on a very hard surface, in damp evening air . . .

  They broke apart and looked at each other, swallowing hard, chests heaving. Chum started laughing.

  ‘What happens?’ he said. ‘I kiss you and turn into a raging beast.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Polly. ‘But I like it.’

  ‘I like it a lot,’ said Chum.

  He pulled her close and they sat, Polly resting her head on his shoulder, just gazing out over the tranquil water, with birds flitting in and out of the trees and moorhens paddling past. Polly closed her eyes and concentrated on the smell scape. The rich damp wood from the ancient trees was almost spicy. The smooth sweetness of a large body of fresh water. Sorrel’s lovely scent on both of them. And the tang of the brandy.

  Then Chum started to laugh. Polly lifted her head and looked at him.

  ‘What’s funny?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve just remembered one night when we were about eleven and nine, Charlie and I camped here with some friends – four other boys. We sat round a fire – you see that circle of stones down there? That was our fire spot. Anyway, we sat round it swapping stories and toasting marshmallows and all that and we made a solemn vow . . . that we’d never bring any girls here. So I guess I’ve broken that.

  ‘Sorry, Charlie,’ he said to the sky. ‘Mind you, I bet he brought loads of hot babes here. Charlie was a player. And then some.’

  ‘And you weren’t?’ said Polly.

  ‘Not like him – he was much better looking than me and you know, the Earl thing, some girls really go for that.’

  ‘There were a lot of girls at St Andrews who seemed quite happy with your status of one remove from Earl,’ said Polly.

  ‘Well, I’d like to think it was my magnetic personality they were attracted to,’ he said.

  Polly chuckled.

  ‘I do admit I had a good time up there,’ continued Chum, opening the hip flask again and passing it to Polly. ‘You’d be mad not to – and you weren’t short of dance partners yourself, Miss Hippolyta Masterson-Mackay. I can remember one party, I spent the whole night trying to find a moment when I could get you to dance with me. It was my goal for the evening, like a mantra, but every time I saw my opening some other git got there first. Usually one of those annoying handsome actor types.’

  Polly laughed. There had been a number of those.

  ‘And they were all such bloody good dancers,’ said Chum. ‘I’m a terrible dancer.’

  ‘No, you’re not. I’m sure I boogied next to you loads of times.’

  ‘Maybe next to me, but never with me,’ said Chum.

  ‘Well, every time I saw you at a party,’ she said, ‘and believe me, I did look – you had some breathtakingly pretty willowy blonde on your arm. Those girls with ankles so impossibly tiny you wondered how they didn’t snap.’

  Now Chum laughed.

  ‘I did have a bit of a type – but was that before or after that night on the beach?’ he asked, smiling at her so sweetly Polly took his face between her hands and kissed him, very, very slowly.

  ‘Mmmmm,’ said Chum, growling slightly and holding her tight in his arms. ‘That’s exactly why I wanted to kiss you again so much after that night. Exactly that.’

  ‘So why didn’t you?’ asked Polly.

  ‘I tried. Like I said, I stalked you around the cafes and pubs of St Andrews and once in the library . . .’

  ‘I remember that!’ said Polly. ‘I was in the stacks and you suddenly appeared.’

  ‘It wasn’t accidental,’ said Chum. ‘Took me ages to find you. And I didn’t really know my way around the library. Wasn’t
in there much.’

  Polly laughed.

  ‘And I thought you were mortified to have bumped into me,’ she said. ‘Some ghastly common girl you’d kissed while under the influence and now couldn’t get away from. I was so embarrassed, I legged it.’

  ‘I do remember,’ said Chum. ‘I stood there like a wally, after you’d gone, smelling my breath, trying to work out what I’d done wrong.’

  ‘What would you have said, if I hadn’t run off?’ asked Polly.

  ‘I was going to suggest we had coffee,’ he said, doing his tight-lipped, sad smile.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, clasping his hands. ‘That’s so sweet. Why was I such an idiot? I would have liked to have had coffee with you more than anything. And I just thought you hated me.’

  ‘Star crossed lovers, eh?’ said Chum. ‘What an opportunity we missed.’

  He paused, looking back at the lake and then at her.

  ‘We’ll have to start back soon,’ he said. ‘The light’s going and I really need to put Sorrel away, but let’s not let this one go by, Hippolyta. Having another chance with you is the best thing that’s happened to me for years and I don’t want to lose you again.’

  Polly put her arm round him and squeezed him tight.

  ‘Will you stay with me tonight?’ he asked, very quietly. ‘It won’t seem so grim at the cottage with low lighting. I’ll get a good fire going and make some dinner. It’ll be lovely – just to be together. Finally.’

  Polly hesitated before replying. She wanted to stay with him, so much. More than she could ever say – and not just because of her overwhelming physical desire for him. Her feelings already went much deeper than that, but she knew she still couldn’t take it any further than the advanced-snogging level.

  Chum was looking at her with his head on one side, waiting for her answer, an expression of uncertainty coming into his eyes.

  ‘It’s fine, if you feel you have to go.’ he said. ‘Your kids . . .’

  ‘It’s not that,’ said Polly quickly. ‘They’ve gone back to uni. I’d love to stay, it’s just . . . I can’t take things any further with you, Chum. Not yet. Not until I’ve found out what’s going on with David.’