Caroline
Whatever happened, she knew it would be worth it.
The morning was fresh, a clear pale-blue sky above them as they hurried to the Underground station. From there, they would head to Victoria Station to meet Angus beneath the clock.
‘Are you wearing lipstick, Mum?’ Annabel eyed her.
Annabel’s eyes opened wide. ‘I wonder what it is!’
‘I’m sure he won’t mind telling you when we see him.’
The bright concourse at Victoria Station was busy, and they wove through the crowds, Caroline suddenly shy to see him, nervous that he’d changed his mind and didn’t come.
But there he was beneath the clock. Out of his work attire, he looked more like he used to, wearing a dark wax jacket as if he’d just walked in from the Highlands.
As he spotted them, Caroline could see that he, too, was nervous, but instantly, he beamed a great smile, striding towards them and shaking hands with Annabel. ‘It’s lovely to meet you, Annabel! I’m Angus, an old friend of your mother’s. Do you know what we have in store for the day?’
Any reticence the girl had dissolved. ‘Mum said it’ll be outdoors.’
Looking up at the great train boards above the concourse, he pointed to one of them. ‘We’re taking the nine-thirty train on platform five, and you’ll see when we get there.’
The tickets bought, they found the platform and boarded the packed train. Before long, the whistle blew and the train shunted forward, and soon they were heading over the great River Thames, winding through the suburbs and into the countryside.
Meanwhile, Angus could hardly wait to talk to Annabel. ‘Now tell me, what are you doing for the coronation?’
‘There’s going to be a parade down the main street in Camden. Our class is putting on a dance display, twirling batons and waving flags.’ She grinned and then confided, ‘I’m one of the better ones, in the front row. It’s very modern, just like in the movies.’
‘I’m sure you’ll be the star of the show!’
Caroline watched him. A thousand questions must be flying through his head: Is this truly my child? Has she been growing up thinking another man is her father?
Meanwhile, Annabel asked, ‘Are you Scottish?’
He smiled, a question after his own heart. ‘I am indeed. I live in a cottage in the grounds of Balmoral Castle. Have you ever been there?’
‘No, we never go anywhere.’ Annabel heaved a great sigh. ‘We’ve been saving up to go to the beach for years.’
‘One day soon,’ Caroline said. She could barely look at Angus. What kind of parent never takes their child on a simple day trip?
‘At least we have today,’ Angus said cheerily. ‘Maybe you can come to Balmoral Castle sometime, see where the queen lives when she takes a break from London.’
‘Isn’t it cold, living in a castle?’
‘Balmoral has huge stone fireplaces with roaring fires, and there’s always cèilidhs, Scottish dances, to keep you warm.’
Angus was comfortable talking to children, especially as he’d never had any of his own. Caroline suddenly felt a stab of sadness for him, for all the stages of Annabel’s childhood that he’d missed.
And how heart-breaking it was that Annabel would never know that this curious and good man was her real father.
Yet Caroline could only thank goodness Annabel hadn’t guessed. The resemblance wasn’t so strong, now that Angus’s hair was shorter, the auburn faded with age, although with an adult’s insight and the right clues, it wouldn’t be hard to piece together.
The train drew to a halt, and they found themselves in a picturesque old station surrounded by rolling green hills dotted with sheep and trees.
It was clear that Angus had been there before as he guided them out to the lane, and off they went through the fields.
The morning sunshine blinked through the bright spring leaves, and Caroline took a deep breath of freedom. A sense of peace washed through her as she felt the sun on her face.
And then there was Angus. She’d forgotten how sturdy and capable he was – just being with him felt comfortable, familiar. Their conversation flowed naturally as they talked about the coronation and Balmoral, about Annabel’s life in Camden.
Soon they turned into a farmyard. Surrounded by horse troughs and tractors, the yard was bathed in morning sunshine, a few chickens and geese pecking at grains between the cobbles, noisily scattering as the small group entered.
‘Anybody home?’ Angus called, and within a minute, a black-and-white sheepdog darted through from a side gate, rushing up to him to be greeted. ‘Hello, Meg, what have you done with your master?’
A moment later, a farmer came into the yard, a great smile on his face as he welcomed Angus. ‘How have you been keeping?’ he said, pumping Angus’s hand.
‘Lovely to see you, Gil.’
A whiskery man wearing riding breeches and a hacking jacket, Gil turned to the others. ‘And welcome to you, too! It’s a fine day for it!’ He turned to the girl. ‘You must be Annabel. Have you ever been on a horse?’
Annabel’s eyes widened. ‘You have horses?’
Angus beamed. ‘Well, I had to show you what I do in my spare time, didn’t I?’
‘Did you organize a ride?’ Delighted, Caroline could barely believe how the day was unfolding.
‘Why, of course!’ Gil chortled. ‘The man’s fair obsessed with horses.’
‘Speak for yourself, Gil,’ Angus replied with a laugh. ‘I spent four years with him in a POW camp, and all we did was talk about horses.’
‘Among other things,’ Gil said, his eyes going to Caroline. ‘It’s lovely to meet you.’
Unsure what to say, Caroline glanced at Angus. How much did Gil know about them? Did Gil know that Annabel was Angus’s child?
Along the low building, doors led into straw-filled stables.
Large and small, the horses ranged from an old black stallion to a speckled white foal.
Annabel darted over, but then warily stood back, unsure, until Angus showed her how to hold her hand towards the horse’s muzzle before patting its forelocks.
Gil led a few of the horses out into the yard, and a young stable lad appeared, saddling each one.
‘You’ve got Bonnie,’ Angus said as he lifted Annabel onto a beautiful chestnut pony. Gently, he showed her how to hold the reins, how to direct and stop the horse.
Inside, Caroline shoved down an irate grief that Annabel had missed out on having such a good father, especially compared to the dismissive murkiness of Frank.
Then Angus helped Caroline onto a dark-brown mare, his hands on her hips strong and sturdy. A ripple of a memory came back to her of another time when his hands were on her body. How she’d had to banish those thoughts of him from her mind, determined to battle on for Annabel’s sake.
Once they were ready, the two men mounted larger bays, and Gil led them through the farmyard onto a bridle path running alongside a field.
It had been years since Caroline had been on a horse.
The vicarage had been next door to a stable, and a lot of her childhood had been spent riding.
Funny how quickly it all came back to her, and before long she was in her element as they went uphill through meadows, where the yellows and whites of wildflowers dotted the hedgerows.
A field had sheep with young lambs, gambolling joyfully, and Caroline was taken back to the girl she’d been.
As she followed behind, watching Angus show Annabel how to sit, she felt awash with how right this was, for them to be together.
For this one single day, she wasn’t going to let herself think about Frank, about her reality.
She was going to revel in being here, together with these two most precious people.
After an hour or more, they trotted into a village square, Gil leading them through an arched lane behind a thatched country pub.
There, they dismounted, tied the horses beside a trough, and went inside.
The pub was traditional, with low beamed ceilings and the smell of sawdust and yeasty beers, a few locals chatting while they enjoyed a lunchtime pint.
Gil ordered the dish of the day for all of them, and soon plates of steaming beef pie appeared, along with fresh bread and lemonade.
‘How many horses do you have in Scotland, Angus?’ Annabel was thrilled with her pony. ‘Do you ride every day?’
‘Most days. The queen loves horses, so the Balmoral stables are always full. As the manager, I oversee it, and of course I get to train the horses, too.’ He grinned. ‘If you’re ever in the area, you should try them out.’
Even though she knew the answer, she spun around to Caroline. ‘Can we go? Please, Mum! Betty says that Balmoral is the queen’s favourite place, and you’ve never been there, have you?’
Caroline turned to Angus, his eyebrow raised in friendly challenge. His invitation was instinctive, she was sure, but a day trip into Kent was very different from nights away in Scotland – it would take them a whole day just to get there. He had to understand how impossible it would be.
‘The train tickets are too expensive, I’m afraid. And then there’s the cost of a guesthouse, too.’
But Annabel wasn’t having any of it. ‘We can stay with Angus, couldn’t we?’ She looked at him for confirmation, laughing at her own audacity.
And he grinned. ‘Of course you can! I’d be delighted to have you.’
Giving her daughter a firm look, Caroline said evenly, ‘Thank you for the kind offer, but we couldn’t possibly . . .’ She put her hand up as he began to protest. ‘We wouldn’t be able to afford the train fare.’
In a smaller voice, Annabel asked, ‘Why don’t we use the money we’re saving for our beach trip? Wouldn’t it be more fun to go riding in Scotland?’
Thankfully, Gil interjected, ‘You are very welcome to come and ride here whenever you want.’
After lunch, it was agreed that the party would split into two groups. Gil would accompany Annabel to a riding school nearby, while Angus would take Caroline for a proper canter through the fields. They would meet back at the farm in a few hours.