by Georgia Rose
At that moment I heard the pub door crash open. Trent and Carlton came running round the corner, stopping abruptly at the sight before them: of me standing over the curled-up and groaning body of Gary. My breathing heavy with the effort expended, I calmed and turned my head slowly to look at them, stony-faced. Trent looked furious and I wasn’t sure if that was aimed at me or Gary, while Carlton’s look was one of astonishment. I turned back to my pickup to unlock the door and got in, starting the engine and rolling down the window.
“See,” I said when they reached me, “I can look after myself,” and as I drove away I saw Trent in my rear-view mirror, standing watching me as Carlton helped Gary off the ground.
I went home, checked the horses and calmed myself down with a glass of wine, finding as the adrenaline wore off I was left shaking, the pain now throbbing through my hand. I went to bed in hopeful preparation for the early start but it took a long time for sleep to come.
No sooner had my eyes closed than they were open again with the alarm, and the first thing I noticed, beyond my exhaustion, was that my hand hurt – a lot.
I dragged myself out to the yard and went through the pre-hunting preparations which brought more pain for my hand, particularly with having four manes and tails to plait. I finished by painting all the hooves black with hoof oil, which has, for me, to be one of the most delicious smells in the world, filled as it is with the intoxicating scent of excitement and anticipation for the day to come. But today not even that could lift my spirits from the miserable place they were in.
I was pleased that when the family arrived Cavendish and Grace seemed unaware of what had happened the previous night. I wasn’t sure how they would react to me getting into a fight outside the local pub. Not exactly the dignified behaviour they might expect from one of their employees.
Cavendish eventually drove the lorry out of the yard, much to my relief, as relaxing a little I started sorting out the yard. A short while later, looking up from the door of the stable I was mucking out, I saw Trent, walking across the yard towards me, holding a bag. Oh, what now, I thought. No doubt he’d come to have a go at me about last night. I had to shush Susie, who was offering her usual greeting, then muttered, “Hi,” when he got nearer, stopping in front of me.
“How’s your hand?” he asked with no preamble.
“Not too good,” and when he asked to see it I held it out to him, a little reluctantly, the dark bruises across the fingers now spreading down the back of my hand. He took it gently with both of his and I tried to ignore how that made me feel. His initial touch made me want to withdraw it, and while he’d appeared oblivious to the charge I could feel running between us he kept a firm hold, appearing to have anticipated me trying to escape, carefully feeling down each of the fingers, over the knuckles, following the bones across my hand as I winced with the pain he was causing.
“Come with me,” and leading me back to the cottage he sat me down at the table, bringing out an ice pack from the bag he was carrying and wrapping it around my hand.
“I don’t think anything is broken so it should feel a lot better in a few days,” and taking out a second ice pack he put it in my freezer before reaching into his pocket and bringing out a box of ibuprofen.
“How did you know about the hand?” I asked.
“I guessed when I saw the state of Gary’s face.” Then he sat down opposite me and asked carefully, “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I answered briefly, not wanting to reveal that I was feeling stupid for getting myself into that situation, angry that it had happened at all, as well as fragile and vulnerable because I was not as brave and fearless as I made out. I didn’t want to say all of that so I just said I was fine. I don’t think he believed I was fine for one moment but, probably thinking it was best not to probe further, he moved on. Although what followed didn’t make me feel any more comfortable.
“I feel like you’ve been avoiding me recently.” It hadn’t gone unnoticed then, I thought, and I really didn’t want to have this conversation, not now. “I wondered if I’d done something to upset or offend you,” he asked quietly, he was serious, and I could tell this had been on his mind.
“I just thought…you know…after what happened in the gym I should perhaps keep away from you,” I explained, feeling awkward and ignoring the slightly puzzled expression on his face as I said this. I changed tack, “Are you here to tell me off about last night?”
“Not at all,” he said, surprised. “Why would I do that? You were protecting yourself. I’m only sorry we didn’t realise Gary had slipped out ahead of you until it was too late. We should’ve been paying better attention. You did brilliantly, flooring him like that. I wanted to see you to check on you last night but your lights were already off by the time I’d finished sorting Gary out, so after I’d checked you were home safely I thought I’d leave you in peace and catch up with you this morning.”
“I’m not sure why Carlton felt the need to help Gary up.”
“I told him to. Having not so long ago been on the receiving end of one of your less ferocious attacks I had some sympathy for him,” he teased, as I blushed slightly at the memory. “I don’t know why you didn’t just knee him in the crotch though, that’s what most women would have done.”
“He was drunk and therefore not that equal an opponent. I thought I’d better go easy on him and only do the minimum necessary to stop him.”
“Very thoughtful…although I’m not sure he would have gone that easy on you had he got the upper hand,” he frowned. “Anyway, the good news is it doesn’t look like he’s going to press charges against you.” This brought a smile to my face.
“Now there’s a surprise. If there’s one thing I do know about men it’s that their ego is never going to let them go into a police station and admit to being beaten up by a girl.”
He smiled and nodded in agreement. “You have a good point there. As it is he’s been strongly advised not to drink at our local any more so that should be the last we see of him, which is great as all the girls were fed up of him.” He looked at his watch, before continuing, “Now, I have to go. Take a couple of ibuprofen while you finish off the stables and then rest for the day, icing your hand every half an hour. Keep taking the ibuprofen and it should feel better fairly quickly. I would send Carlton over to help you out but he’s sleeping off his overindulgence of last night,” he finished, frowning as if in disapproval.
“He obviously had a good time then, and thanks for the ibuprofen. I’m impressed you have these and ice packs so readily to hand.”
“I keep stocked up, having gotten used to having to patch myself up after similar incidents,” he replied jovially.
“Really, you have a problem with drunks attacking you in pub car parks as well – who would’ve thought we had so much in common?” I laughed lightly at having the opportunity to tease him.
He arched his eyebrow at me quizzically and shaking his head, got up to leave. “It’s delightful to hear you laugh, even if it is at my expense. Have a peaceful day, and no more scrapping,” he ordered, starting towards the back door. Then he hesitated for a moment, turning back slowly to look at me, adding almost as an afterthought, “And…don’t ever feel you need to avoid me, Grayson.”
Silently, I watched him leave.
Chapter 10
A few days later Grace came to ride Monty and when she got back asked if I was doing anything for Christmas. For the last few years I’d tried to ignore the festive season, in an attempt to protect myself from the constant bombardment of images portraying happy families filled with excited children. I usually chose to spend the day under my duvet, slipping into a painfully sorry state as I tried unsuccessfully not to torment myself with memories of previous Christmases I’d spent with Alex and Eva, when in reality there was no hope of me ever thinking about anything else. I’d assumed I’d be doing much the same this year. When I told Grace I had no plans her face lit up as she invited me to the Manor. They were planning on hav
ing an open house for anyone on the estate who wasn’t going elsewhere. I accepted the invitation and asked what I should do about getting presents for those going, at which point Grace brought a bag out of her pocket.
“We thought we’d do a Secret Santa, so I’ll put your name in here when I get back, but you can draw one out now.” As I went to put my hand in the bag Grace spotted the bruising.
“That looks painful. I didn’t want to say anything in case you were feeling a bit weird about it but well done for sorting that man out. What a creep. Henry is very proud of you, but I told him not to embarrass you by making a big thing of it.”
I was surprised at hearing Cavendish’s Christian name used for the first time, then, pleased they’d taken the incident with Gary so well, I replied gratefully, “Thanks for that, it’s feeling a bit better now anyway,” and withdrawing my hand, I pulled out a folded-up piece of paper. “Would you like me to do anything on the day, help with the food perhaps?”
“No, nothing at all thanks. You’ll still be busy with the horses anyway, so all you need to do is turn up.”
“Okay, I’m looking forward to it.” I smiled at her as she turned to leave. Unfolding the piece of paper the smile faded from my face as I read the one word on there: Trent. Great, I thought with some dismay – the one name I could have done without pulling out. I wondered what the odds were on me doing that; then, for the briefest moment, a suspicion came to me that I dismissed just as quickly. I looked up to return the wave from Grace as she drove out of the yard, feeling a little guilty that my mistrustful mind had suggested she would do anything as underhand as only having the one name in her bag.
I spent the next few days wracking my brains trying to come up with something, anything, that I could get Trent as a gift, but only got as far as socks, immediately dismissing that thought – I couldn’t get him socks. I was planning on going shopping the following Monday but it wasn’t until late on the Sunday evening that inspiration came to me. I did some research on the Internet and the next day set off with a spring in my step, hopeful that at last I’d come up with something suitable.
I spent a few hours shopping, having decided I’d better refresh my winter wardrobe, such as it was, plus I would definitely need something vaguely dressy if I was going to be socialising on Christmas Day. I bought Trent’s gift, had it wrapped, and stopped off at the saddlery on the way home to buy a small present for each of the children which I’d decided I’d give them when they came to the yard.
The run-up to Christmas was uneventful; my daily routine remained the same and the weather was reasonably kind. Apart from the occasional wet day, it was mostly dry and quite still; weak sun kept trying to shine through the brief breaks in the clouds, making the days a little brighter.
On one of the wet days I went out exercising as usual, having seen Young and Greene turn up to clean my cottage, being the angels they were. By the time I’d returned from my second ride out they were long gone and I was looking forward to finishing the horses for the morning, getting back to the cottage to change into some dry clothes and having a bowl of soup to warm me up. As I approached the back door I saw they’d hung from it a beautiful Christmas wreath made of dark green foliage and decorated with dried fruits, cones and frosted berries in deep purples and crimsons matching the colours in the hanging baskets which had been replanted in the autumn with winter-flowering pansies.
I went in, greeting Susie who was curled up in her bed sleeping off her earlier walk. Levering my feet out of my boots, I shrugged out of my wet coat; then shuffling into the kitchen in my socks, I was distracted by a glow coming out of the dark sitting room on this gloomy day. Going to the door I peered in, and there to one side of the fireplace was a fully decorated Christmas tree twinkling with red and white lights. Already filling the room with the scent that is so synonymous with Christmas it was beautiful. I sent a thank you text to all those who would have been involved and it put quite a bounce back in my step as I went upstairs to change into some dry clothes before having lunch.
Fortunately for me this year Christmas Eve fell on a Monday, which being the nearest thing I got to a day off, would mean I’d be able to get away for a few hours without anyone noticing. That morning I finished my yard duties as quickly as possible, then opening up the garage door drove my car out. I picked up a small bouquet of white roses I’d bought a couple of days ago from the vase I’d been soaking them in, and after wrapping their stems in a plastic bag I checked everything was locked up, including Susie, and took them out to the car, placing them on the passenger seat before setting off.
I was making my first trip back to Crowbridge to visit Eva’s grave and as I drove, although I kept trying to focus on the positives of my new life, memories of Eva kept finding their way through. Firstly, those happier Christmases we’d shared, particularly as she’d got older; starting to understand what was going on, her excitement building in the run-up to the big day, the early start on Christmas morning when she couldn’t wait any longer to open her stocking. Then, inevitably my thoughts became increasingly filled with the darker moments of my old life as they turned towards the last days, hours and minutes with her, my overwhelming grief and the guilt I carried with me. Not a day passed when I didn’t think of her, some days not a moment passed that wasn’t consumed by her. I’d known what this trip would do to me. Known it would bring out the blackest of my thoughts, but what else could I do?
I arrived at the churchyard late morning and, not allowing myself to sit, did some tidying up, getting rid of the dead flowers and filling the metal container with water before arranging my roses for her. Though when I looked at them I thought the white against the black headstone was too cold, too severe, too bleak. I should have got red instead.
I’d started talking to her as I was tidying the grave, finding it easier to do when I was busy at the same time, and I told her some things about my new life. Things I thought she would have been interested in: Zodiac and Benjy, Sophia and Reuben, the beach…and the cottage. Until, finally running out of anything further to do, I sat on the bench, feeling her loss more keenly with her being so close. My arms, lacking any other occupation, ached in their emptiness, and wrapping themselves around my body, they held me tight. Tears came hot and angry down my cheeks and I found myself rocking, back and forth, as my distress grew. Allowing my tears to flow, needing the release of my bottled-up emotions, I sat for as long as it took, the tears eventually subsiding, the rocking slowing.
I stayed a while longer with her, reluctant to leave, though when I did tears came again; this time more gently, filled with the sadness of having to leave her behind, and I had to keep wiping them away as I started the drive back home.
My plan was to keep the horses in their normal routine on Christmas Day as much as possible, so I was up early to a frosty start that became a bright and sunny, though cold, morning, and carried out the yard duties. I wrapped up warmly to exercise and took out firstly Regan and Benjy, dutifully accompanied by Susie, followed by Monty and Zodiac, finding over time these combinations worked best.
While riding I tried to keep my thoughts buoyant and positive, only allowing myself a brief moment of sadness to think of Eva and of having what would now be my fifth Christmas stretching before me without her. I wondered if Alex went to her grave. There hadn’t been any sign that he did and I found that sad. He’d already left me by the Christmas after she’d died and for the first time I found myself wondering what our lives would be like now if he hadn’t betrayed me, speculating as to whether we would have managed to stay together, managed to find our way back to each other.
I turned Zodiac and Benjy out in their waterproof rugs, leaving Regan and Monty with full hay nets. Then dashing to the cottage, I leapt in the shower to wash my hair before quickly drying it and dressing in a longish dark purple and black flowing skirt that swept down from my waist, flaring out a little at the bottom, and a fitted crossover purple top. I’d even put on tights, practically unheard of in my lif
e, and black court shoes. Taking a quick look at myself in the mirror I added mascara. That was all I had available to try to improve the image staring back at me. I pulled on a chunky knit, wrap-around cardigan for the walk up to the Manor and got ready to leave. Susie was settled in her bed for the day so telling her I’d be back later I headed out the door.
I’d already delivered Trent’s present to the Manor the previous week, putting it under the magnificently decorated huge tree adorning the otherwise understated drawing room. The room was large with high white ceilings and elaborate cornicing and mouldings with an ornate chandelier as its centrepiece. The rest of the room was decorated in off-white with a hint of blue. The settees, of which there were several, with chairs scattered among them, were of a deep Mediterranean sky blue. The floor was covered by a huge, thick, luxurious rug, intricately woven with a decorative display of foliage and flowers, in pale colours so as to blend in with the elegance of the room. The tree was decorated with white lights, garlands of silver and blue and coordinated decorations.
Arriving around noon, I entered via the kitchen where I was greeted with a great deal of activity and excitement. Dinner looked well under control and my offers of help were brushed aside, although I did then get to carry a tray of glasses through to the drawing room where everyone was gathering. Cavendish took these off me and grinning, he kissed my cheek in welcome with a “How’s my little tiger then?” This term of endearment I took to be a reference to my recent altercation with Gary. I smiled back tolerantly, shaking my head at him as Grace scolded him affectionately.
“I told you not to make a big thing of it, Henry, I knew it would embarrass her,” she said, then looking at me apologetically she also kissed me. There were already quite a few people there and as Cavendish set to opening bottles of champagne and filling glasses, I helped hand them out. Sophia appeared, running over to give me a friendly hug and she then helped, handing out and topping up glasses. A short while later we all heard Reuben approaching, shrieking with a mixture of imagined fear and actual delight. He was clearly being chased along the passageway towards us, a moment later bursting into the room laughing and closely followed by Trent, who grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder, whirling him around.