Chapter 14
Bethany was in the middle of cooking breakfast in the grim kitchen at Whispering Willows again, despite Miss Lavender’s assertion that she was quite mad, getting up so early each morning and heading out to prepare a meal for Clive, Maya, and Lennox.
‘I’m sure they’re fed quite adequately at home, dear. You don’t have to make them breakfast, you know.’
Bethany felt, though, that it was the least she could do, given their hard work. More than that, it made her feel as if she were part of something. She hadn’t really got involved with the sanctuary or its residents and didn’t feel she’d be much use if she tried. It had been far too many years since she’d had anything to do with horses and that time in her life was in the past. But by being here each morning and feeding the little workforce, she’d felt as if she was contributing in some small way, other than taking Viva for a daily walk.
Part of the team. Part of the Whispering Willows family.
She mentally shook her head. Maya and Lennox had their own families and really didn’t need her.
And Clive?
Since seeing him at Monk’s Folly yesterday she’d realised it was possible that if Clive wanted to be part of any family, it was the Callaghans. Or had she overreacted? Imagined things because fear had taken over when she’d realised she was developing an attraction to him?
She wondered again about his background. She knew, of course, that he’d grown up in Scotland, but that was about it. Were his parents still alive? Did he have any brothers and sisters? Maybe Julian and Joseph had been his brothers in a way, and now he’d lost them both. She couldn’t help but feel sad for him.
He’d never married, though. She knew that much because she’d asked. Miss Lavender had said there’d never been anyone as far as she was aware.
‘Married to his job,’ she’d said, nodding briskly. ‘Some men are, you know. And if you ask me it’s a good thing when they recognise it and avoid making a promise to another person that they can’t possibly keep. At least Clive acknowledged that no woman could compete with his work and didn’t inflict a life of misery on some poor wretch.’
Had he never been in love as a young man? Never wanted to be with anyone? Never wanted children?
Maybe some people just didn’t want family life. It wasn’t for everyone, she supposed. Look at her. And yet, if she stopped to think for a moment, she knew the familiar ache would return. It was an ache she tried hard not to dwell on, but it nagged away in the background and sometimes popped up unexpectedly, attacking with a ferocity that startled her. The ache for a home and a family. The need to belong somewhere—to someone.
It was too late for children, of course. She’d become reconciled to that years ago. Ted had been unable to father them, and she’d told him it didn’t matter. They had each other, after all. Except, she knew they didn’t really have each other. Ted had his own interests and she… Sometimes it seemed that she’d had nothing.
She tutted impatiently. What was the point of dwelling on all this now? She had a breakfast to cook, and the hungry hordes would be here any minute.
As if she’d conjured them up the door flew open and Maya and Lennox tumbled in, pink-cheeked and laughing. Bethany thought they were hardly typical teenagers. Weren’t most people of their age supposed to be lying in bed until lunchtime? Didn’t they grunt answers and refuse to engage in conversation with anyone over twenty? She thought she’d been rather lucky to find these two. Not that she had, of course. That was down to Clive, too. Everything came back to him in the end.
‘Sit down,’ she said, smiling at the two new arrivals as they greeted her cheerfully. Their early wariness of her seemed to have dissipated now that she fed them regularly. How easily they’d been bought! ‘Breakfast is nearly ready.’
‘Isn’t Clive here yet?’ Lennox asked. ‘He’s usually here before us.’ He grinned at Maya. ‘Finally, we beat him to it! Result!’
‘I’m sure he won’t be long,’ Bethany said, placing mugs of tea on the table. ‘Extra strong for you, Lennox and extra weak for you, Maya.’
‘Perfect. Ooh, can you just give me?—’
‘Two sausages but four rashers of bacon,’ Bethany finished for Maya with a grin. ‘Already on it. And three rashers for you, Lennox, but three sausages.’
‘You ought to get a job in a café,’ Lennox said, clearly impressed. ‘You’re good at this.’
The door opened again, and Clive headed in, Viva tucked under one arm. Bethany’s heart made a dangerous leap into her throat—at least, that’s how it felt to her. Unfortunately, or perhaps not, he wasn’t even looking at her. He was on his mobile phone and seemed distracted.
‘Whereabouts is this? Oh yeah, I know where you mean. Sounds serious. Of course, I’ll be straight there.’
He ended the call and shoved his phone in his jacket pocket before giving Bethany a brief smile as he put Viva down.
‘Sorry, I won’t be able to eat that today. I’ve got to go on a call out.’
‘Sick animal?’ Maya asked worriedly.
‘It’s a bit more than that,’ he admitted. ‘That was Jessie who works for the Upper Dales Equine Welfare Association. She’s asked me if I can meet her at Grenley Hall over in Larkspur Common. There’s an issue with some horses there and she says it’s quite serious. Sorry, but looks like I’m going to be late today.’
His apology was addressed to Bethany, as if she was his actual boss or something. She wondered if that was because of the stupid comment she’d made at the opening of the art academy. She really hadn’t meant it to sound that way and was mortified that he might think of her as some draconian employer, cracking the whip.
‘Don’t be daft, we can manage,’ Maya said.
‘Absolutely. Main thing is you sort them poor horses out,’ Lennox said.
‘Thanks. I’d better get off.’
‘Haven’t you even got time to wait while I put something in a sandwich to take with you?’ Bethany asked.
Clive shook his head. ‘Best not. I need to get to the horses as soon as I can.’
He turned to leave and impulsively Bethany asked, ‘Could I come with you?’
Clive slowly turned round, and the look of incredulity on his face matched the ones on Maya’s and Lennox’s faces.
‘Come with me?’
Bethany wondered why on earth she’d blurted out such a stupid question.
‘Sorry. I suppose that’s a no. You wouldn’t want me in your way.’
Maya and Lennox stared at her, then at Clive, who rubbed the back of his head looking awkward.
‘I—er?—’
‘Forget it,’ Bethany said hastily. ‘It was silly of me to suggest it. Besides, I’ve got breakfast to dish out for these two.’
‘I can dish breakfast out,’ Maya said immediately. ‘And I can put some aside for you two as well, so you can have it when you get back. She can go with you, can’t she, Clive?’
He looked cornered and Bethany felt sorry she’d ever mentioned it.
‘Honestly, it doesn’t matter,’ she assured him. ‘You go.’
He was eyeing her steadily and she could see he was trying to figure out why on earth she would want to go with him when she’d never shown any interest in the horses at Whispering Willows.
‘Okay,’ he said at last. ‘But can you hurry? There’s no time to lose.’
‘You’ll turn the grill off and make sure—’ Bethany began, but Maya waved her hand.
‘I’m not daft. Go on, get off. We’ll have something ready for you to eat when you get home. And don’t worry about Viva either. We’ll see to her and leave her in the kitchen when we head off to school.’
Bethany grabbed her coat and followed Clive who was already striding towards his SUV. She couldn’t help wondering what on earth had come over her. It had been an impulse request. For that moment, she’d just thought it would be good to see him in action as a vet, and to maybe be part of something useful.
Maybe she’d made a huge mistake, though, as Clive barely spoke a word to her as they drove out of Tuppenny Bridge towards the Hall.
Larkspur Common was a former estate village, which lay just a few miles from Tuppenny Bridge, although it could have been another world.
It lacked the charm of its closest town, and although it couldn’t be expected to have as many facilities, given that it was a village, it seemed to Bethany that it had no facilities at all.
It consisted, as far as she could see, of a collection of uniform cottages and an old Methodist chapel which was clearly no longer in use.
There was a solitary bus shelter, and she noticed four or five bored looking youngsters sitting on the bench inside it, while an older man stood outside, clearly not keen to risk sharing the bench with them.
‘Don’t they even have a shop here any longer?’ she asked. She was almost sure there used to be a general store of some sort. Come to think of it, she thought there’d been a fish and chip shop, too. She was certain some of her primary school friends had raved about the “Larkspur Chippy”.
‘Nope, that closed about five years ago,’ Clive told her. ‘They haven’t got anything here now—except a bus which calls here on its way between Tuppenny Bridge and Lingham-on-Skimmer. Shame, isn’t it?’
‘So where’s the Hall?’ she enquired, unable to picture it in her mind’s eye.
‘Just past the village centre. Don’t get too excited though. It’s practically derelict. Trouble is, people have been grazing their horses in its grounds in recent years and it’s not exactly lush grazing land. I got called out last year to one who’d got caught in barbed wire.’ He pulled a face. ‘That wasn’t a pleasant job.’
‘Do they have permission to graze their horses there?’ Bethany asked, surprised.
‘Definitely not. I’ve had discussions with the UDEWA and the local council before. The horses get moved on, but they’re always replaced by more. We’re monitoring the situation but it’s not ideal. With the cost-of-living crisis people are struggling, and they use what’s left of the grounds as free grazing, rather than renting suitable land. But some of the land really isn’t great for horses. Anyway, let’s see what we’ve got today, shall we?’
The car pulled up in a lay-by and Clive unclipped his seat belt.
‘Ready?’
Bethany nodded, still not sure why she’d asked to join him. She hated the thought of seeing any animal neglected or hurt. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to follow him at all.
Even so, she found herself climbing out of the car and trailing after Clive, who was heading for the nearby gate, where an old Land Rover was parked.
The Hall was shielded from the road by trees, so it was difficult to see much until they entered through the gate.
Bethany could tell immediately that the house, which had probably once been stunning, was now in a state of ruin. She also realised that, even though it was almost May, the grazing wasn’t in any way adequate. She gazed round in dismay.
‘Oh my God. All this junk!’
‘I know. More like a municipal tip, isn’t it? You can see what’s been happening here.’
A short, dark-haired woman approached them and held out her hand to Clive.
‘Good of you to come, Clive. Appreciate it. Anonymous caller tipped us off. Tipped being an appropriate word. Quite obvious there’s been a lot of fly-tipping here.’
She gave a bleak smile as she waved an arm around the wild and overgrown garden.
‘Any spare land and what do they do? Dump all their rubbish on it. Humans, eh? Makes you proud. I reckon our friendly anonymous caller was only here to dump their own rubbish. Mind you, at least they had the decency to make the call.’ She eyed Bethany with obvious curiosity.
‘Sorry,’ Clive said hastily. ‘Jessie, this is Bethany Marshall. She’s the owner of Whispering Willows—Joseph’s sister.’
Jessie brightened immediately.
‘Oh! Joseph was an absolute star. We were so sorry to hear of his passing. Whispering Willows was a godsend to us on a few occasions.’ She shook Bethany’s hand then turned back to Clive. ‘You’d better come and see for yourself. Poor little fella’s in a pretty pickle.’
Nervously, Bethany followed Jessie and Clive through a tangle of bushes and trees at the end of the so-called garden, into what had once probably been a decent paddock but was now a patch of land overgrown with weeds, its fencing broken and its gate missing. Bethany gasped as she noticed a small, dejected strawberry roan mare standing by a pile of rubbish.
‘Oh, poor wee thing!’ Clive said. He wasn’t looking at the roan, and Bethany suddenly realised that a chestnut foal was lying on its back between two old mattresses. Beside it, an old fridge lay on its side on top of one of the mattresses, along with a couple of torn black bin liners which had rubbish spilling out of them. Old tyres were dumped on the ground around the area, and someone had left a load of old bricks and tiles.
The foal didn’t even attempt to get up. Not that it could have. For one thing it had become well and truly wedged in the gap between the mattresses, but for another even Bethany could see it wasn’t well enough to manage it alone.
‘The state of him! Oh, the poor little mite,’ she cried.
Clive was already kneeling on the mattress at the side of the foal. ‘Very emaciated. Seems like he’s just given up trying.’ He shook his head. ‘Poor mum, keeping an eye on him. She must be frantic.’ He turned compassionate eyes on the pony who was standing close by. ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll sort him out. We’ll sort you both out.’
‘Will he be okay?’ Bethany asked anxiously. She felt sick as Jessie crouched beside the foal on the dirty torn mattress and soothed it with kind, gentle words.
‘Look at the state of his hooves,’ Clive said. ‘Shockingly overgrown. Mind, his mum’s no better. She must be having awful trouble hobbling around.’
‘Should we try to get him on his feet?’ Jessie asked, and Clive nodded.
‘Aye. Let’s see if we can manage it. He’s not exactly going to be a heavy load,’ he said with a sigh.
Bethany turned and cast her eye over the mare who was standing nearby. She clearly wasn’t well nourished, her eyes were dull, and her ribs protruded. As Clive had pointed out, her hooves badly needed trimming, and it was obvious she hadn’t been groomed for a long time. Yet she was obviously a pretty pony, with large eyes and a dish shaped face.
‘She’s a Welsh pony, isn’t she?’ she said, frowning.
Clive glanced over. ‘Aye. Section A, I’d guess. Welsh Mountain. Look how small she is, bless her.’
Bethany agreed. The mare couldn’t be more than 11.2 hands high.
Her gaze ranged around the paddock, and she noted that, even though there hadn’t been any spells of heavy rain for over a week, much of this area was boggy and unsuitable for horses.
Even the drier half of the land was in poor condition. There were lots of nettles and worn tracks from tyres. It was evident that someone had driven a vehicle down the gravel drive at the side of the house and directly into the paddock. Which probably explained the broken fence and missing gates, she thought grimly. They’d come here specifically to dump their rubbish, and had gone ahead, despite knowing the danger it could pose to the mare and foal.
The roan threw up her head and stamped anxiously, and without thinking Bethany moved to comfort her.
‘It’s okay. Everything’s going to be all right. We’ll rescue your baby, don’t worry.’
She stroked the mare’s nose, murmuring soothing words to her.
‘That’s done it,’ Clive announced, and she turned to see the foal standing beside the mattresses, its head hanging low as Clive checked him over.
‘Oh lord, look at the state of him,’ Jessie said.
‘He’s got a nasty wound to his hip, and pressure sores,’ Clive said. ‘I’d guess he’s probably got a severe case of worms, too.’
The foal sank to his knees and Clive shook his head. ‘He’s not in good shape. Not at all. He needs warming up and while I’m doing that I’d suggest you ring Walter Harding over at East Midham. This young lad’s going to need hospitalising and I just don’t have the facilities at Stepping Stones.’
‘Will do,’ Jessie said, taking out her mobile phone. ‘I’ll be honest, I did try calling him before I called you, but his wife said he was out dealing with a difficult calving. Fingers crossed he’ll be back now.’
Bethany wondered if Clive was offended that he was Jessie’s second choice, but if he was he certainly didn’t show it. He was far too busy trying to warm up the foal, and she turned back to the mare who was clearly worried about what was happening to her offspring.
No wonder the foal was emaciated, she thought. This poor mare was clearly undernourished herself, and it was no doubt affecting her milk production. The foal was very young and would still be feeding from her. Or trying to. Her blood boiled at the thought of them being left here in this awful place to slowly starve to death. Lack of money was no excuse. If the owners couldn’t afford to keep them they should have done everything they could to find them a suitable home, not just abandon them in this wasteland. She hoped Jessie would track them down and make sure they were punished.
Bethany’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at Clive. ‘Is he going to be okay?’
‘Honestly? I’m not sure. But he’ll have the best chance with Walter Harding. Any luck, Jessie?’ he asked as Jessie tucked her mobile back in her jacket pocket.
Jessie looked relieved. ‘He’s only just got home, poor thing, but he’s coming straight over with a trailer.’
‘Have you any idea who owns them?’ Bethany asked, her voice choked with anger.
Jessie shook her head. ‘Afraid not, but I wish to God I did. There’s not even a fresh water source here. Just an old trough that seems to hold a bit of leftover rainwater. I wouldn’t trust whoever owns them to refill it now the rainy spell seems to be over. My feeling is that these horses have been abandoned. They certainly wouldn’t be the first.’
‘I’d agree,’ Clive said. ‘I’ve seen way too much of this sort of thing in recent years.’
‘Good thing is that the sale of this place has finally gone through,’ Jessie told them. ‘It’s all getting flattened and they’re building a housing estate here, so that will at least put an end to the grazing. If you can call it grazing.’ She sighed. ‘I’ll put an abandonment notice on the gate. I don’t expect anyone will come forward to claim them.’
They sat together while they waited for the other vet to arrive, all keeping close to the foal to make sure he stayed warm, while the mare tried to find a little grass to eat, periodically returning to check everything was okay.
‘Why can’t you treat them at Stepping Stones?’ Bethany queried.
‘I don’t have stables there. But don’t worry, Walter Harding has state of the art equine facilities. He does a lot of work with the racing stables over in East Midham, so these two will have the very best care. If anyone can get this wee laddie back on his feet it will be him.’
‘Couldn’t you build stables at Stepping Stones?’ she asked. ‘Or did you just not want to work with horses?’
‘If I could have I would have,’ Clive assured her. ‘It was my dream to do so, but there simply wasn’t the room.’
Bethany frowned. ‘I barely remember visiting Stepping Stones when I was a child,’ she admitted, ‘but my recollection of it is that it had a large piece of land at its side that could have been used to build stables. Am I wrong?’
‘No, you’re not,’ Clive told her. ‘Unfortunately, my predecessor sold off that land a year before I arrived in Tuppenny Bridge. Did you not see the cottages next door to the veterinary practice? They weren’t there in your day. Built on land that he sold to developers sadly.’
‘Oh, of course.’ Bethany groaned. ‘You know, I thought there was something different about that area when I drove past. The cottages weren’t there when I left. What a shame.’
‘Joseph and I did talk about putting hospital facilities at Whispering Willows,’ he admitted hesitantly. ‘Sort of an outreach from Stepping Stones. We both thought it made great sense at the time. I’d pay rent and the sanctuary is such a short distance from the surgery…’
‘So why didn’t you?’ Bethany asked, surprised. ‘I’d have thought that made perfect sense.’
‘I don’t know.’ Clive shook his head. ‘He just went cold on the idea, and I never knew why. Although now I think about it, maybe it was to do with the fact that Whispering Willows was your property, not his. He’d have had to ask your permission.’
‘Which would mean getting in touch with me,’ she said bitterly. ‘God forbid.’
Clive stroked the foal’s face. ‘Maybe there was another reason. I don’t know. We’ll never know now, will we? Anyway, the main thing is this wee one will soon be safe and sound at Harding’s.’
‘And what about afterwards?’ Bethany blurted. ‘When they’re well enough to leave hospital, I mean. Of course they must come to Whispering Willows, mustn’t they? They’ll need love and care, and we can provide that. And we’ve a vet on hand, so what could be better?’ She saw the surprise on Clive’s face and blushed. ‘Well, it makes sense, doesn’t it? At least for now.’
‘Are you sure?’ His grey eyes fixed on hers. ‘It’s a big commitment. We’ve already got thirteen of them to rehome and?—’
‘Rehome?’ Jessie gave her a look of dismay. ‘Seriously?’
Nothing prepared Bethany for the guilt that immediately attacked her.
‘Well, yes,’ she said falteringly. ‘But that won’t be for some time. These ponies will be welcome, and they’ll be given the chance to recover properly. We can think about what happens next later.’
‘Perhaps,’ Clive said slowly. ‘Although… like I said, he’s in a bad way,’ he reminded her, gazing sadly at the foal who was lying beside him, his head on Clive’s lap. ‘Don’t—don’t get your hopes up, okay?’
Bethany’s heart sank. He had to make it. He was so young. He didn’t deserve to die like this because of some cruel, heartless owner.
‘He should have a name,’ she said sadly. ‘I’ll bet he’s never had one and that’s the least he deserves.’
Clive gave her a gentle smile. ‘Any suggestions?’
‘Something Welsh,’ she said. ‘How about Dylan Thomas?’
Jessie nodded. ‘Grand name for a fine little fellow,’ she said.
‘What about his mum?’ Clive said. ‘I doubt we’ll ever know her name, if she even has one. What would you like to call her?’
Bethany blanked. ‘I don’t know any other Welsh poets,’ she admitted sheepishly. ‘Not female ones anyway.’
‘How about a songstress then,’ Jessie suggested. ‘Shirley Bassey.’
Bethany and Clive exchanged glances.
‘Sounds good to me,’ Clive said.
Bethany managed a smile. ‘Okay. Shirley Bassey it is. Oh, I hope they both make it. They deserve so much more than they’ve had so far.’
Clive lifted his head. ‘Do I hear a vehicle coming down the drive?’
‘Not more fly tippers, I hope,’ Bethany said furiously. ‘If I get my hands on them they’ll be sorry!’
‘Easy, tiger.’ He grinned at her, and part of her wished he wouldn’t. His smile did funny things to her.
‘Trailer,’ Jessie said, relieved. ‘Walter’s here. He didn’t waste any time.’
Walter Harding was a stocky man in his early forties. He greeted Clive and Jessie like old friends, so he’d clearly had dealings with them both before. He looked the foal over and agreed with Clive that he desperately needed hospitalising.
Bethany got to her feet and went over to soothe Shirley Bassey, who was clearly worried that someone else was now hovering over her foal. Jessie joined her, and as she slipped a halter on the pony they could hear the two vets muttering about an infected wound and surgery.
The trailer was roomy and well bedded with straw. The mare was safely tied up and given hay to eat while the foal lay quietly among the bedding as Jessie shut the door. Clive and Walter had a brief conversation and shook hands.
‘You’ll let me know how they’re getting on?’ Clive asked. ‘If you’re stuck we’d be happy to take them at Whispering Willows once they’re fit to leave your place.’
‘Really? I’d heard Joseph had passed away,’ Walter said. ‘I wondered what was happening to the residents there.’
‘This is Bethany,’ Clive explained, waving a hand in her direction. ‘She’s Joseph’s sister and she owns the sanctuary. She’s happy to offer them a temporary home where they can recuperate.’
Walter smiled at Bethany. ‘Thank you. And don’t worry, I’ll keep you both informed.’
‘Let’s just hope they both make it,’ Clive said. He shook his head. ‘Sometimes I despair, Walter, I really do. He can’t be more than four months old, poor wee soul. Oh, and by the way, his name’s Dylan Thomas, and his mum’s Shirley Bassey. For your records.’
He was so kind, she thought wistfully, and so genuinely concerned about animal welfare. Look how he’d given up his time to help at the sanctuary. She realised suddenly that she’d been a bit thoughtless, considering foisting another two animals on him without even asking if it was okay. Maybe it was time she gave him a hand. After all, they were her responsibility.
She thought about the state of the stables and hoped they had enough decent looseboxes. Barney needed to stay in overnight until the end of summer, and Chester was stabled in bad weather, which they’d had a lot of recently, so they were in the best part of the stabling. The mare and foal could share a loosebox, of course. She hoped they had another good one that didn’t leak.
Although, once the animals had been properly treated by Walter Harding they could probably be turned out in one of the paddocks.
She’d done a tour of the Whispering Willows land and had been relieved to find that, at least, was well cared for, with decent grazing, no weeds, secure fencing, a good water supply and safe shelters.
The mare and foal would probably be fine outside, rugged up. Drier, warmer weather was coming at last. She’d seen the forecast for May. It would work out anyway, one way or the other.
She thought maybe she ought to invest in getting the roof and doors of those stables repaired though, and she definitely needed to get a builder in to look at the bulging block. She couldn’t leave it like that after all.
Not that she planned to stay of course. She wasn’t entirely sure what she intended to do. But if—no, when—she sold Whispering Willows, having decent stables could only improve her chances of a quick sale, surely?
‘Thanks for offering to take them,’ Clive said ten minutes later, as they drove back towards Tuppenny Bridge, the horse box following behind them. ‘It’s very good of you, and I must admit, I’d like to be sure they’re being well cared for once they leave Walter’s place.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Bethany said. ‘What else could I do? Those poor animals—I’ll never forget the sight of that little foal lying there on his back, and his poor mum looking so ill and scared.’
‘Aye, you see all sorts in this job,’ Clive admitted. ‘I was surprised you wanted to come to be honest. I didn’t think you wanted anything to do with horses.’
‘It’s not that,’ Bethany said quickly. ‘Honestly, I’ve always loved them. It’s just—just I suppose I had to harden my heart. Walking away from Pepper was so unbelievably painful. It devastated me to leave him behind.’
‘Joseph told me that pony meant the world to you,’ Clive said quietly.
Bethany folded her arms. ‘Yet he still went ahead and sold him the minute I left, instead of taking care of him for me.’
Clive’s hands, she noticed, tightened on the steering wheel. He really couldn’t bear to hear a word against his precious friend, could he?
Nevertheless, Bethany needed to explain. ‘After I left Pepper and Poppins behind I never owned another animal. I suppose I just thought, well, maybe I didn’t deserve to own one. I suppose I was punishing myself really for leaving them.’
‘I expect...’ Clive hesitated then ploughed on. ‘I expect you had good reasons to go away, and that you did what you had to do. You can’t go on punishing yourself forever.’
Bethany gave him a sideways glance, wondering exactly how much Clive knew. Just what had Joseph told him? Surely not the truth?
‘Anyway,’ she said at last, turning to gaze out of the window as they drew near to Tuppenny Bridge, ‘I think maybe it’s time I stopped avoiding animals. While I’m here I’d be happy to help at the stables. Obviously, I’m a bit out of practice but I’m sure you could teach me, and I’d do my best to meet your high standards.’
Oh God! Did that sound as if she was flirting with him?
He smiled. ‘That’s great. I’m sure any help would be appreciated. Although, it’s Summer’s high standards you should worry about. I’ll be back at my real job in two weeks, remember?’
She’d completely forgotten and was dismayed at how her spirits sank.
The truth was, despite everything, she had started to think of them as a little family—her, Clive, Maya, and Lennox.
She’d forgotten Summer would be back from Australia soon. Forgotten that Maya and Lennox would revert to working weekends only. Forgotten that Clive would go back to work at Stepping Stones.
Forgotten, most of all, that when it came to home and family, for her it was only ever a temporary arrangement. How could she have been so stupid?