CHAPTER SIXTEEN #2
Sage walked over to the window overlooking the garden.
Dickie and Iris had been devoted to one another.
The love they had shared had been all-encompassing to the point of exclusion.
As young children, she and Casper had taken it for granted that a mother and father loved each other more than anyone else in the world – even, possibly, their children.
The twins would roll their eyes as their parents sat holding hands beside the ring at Tattersalls, and when they kissed in the school hallway at parents’ evenings.
They thought it was normal for them to enjoy virtually non-stop conversation for the entire duration of a four-hour car journey, without turning on the radio.
They assumed that everyone’s parents got up to make tea at half past five in the morning and took their cups back up to bed to laugh and chatter for a full hour before getting dressed and going about their day.
Sage remembered going to her friend Clemmie Jessop’s house for a sleepover when she was eight years old.
They had eaten supper with Clemmie’s mother in the kitchen while her father had taken his food into the sitting room and eaten it from a tray in front of the football, claiming he needed some ‘peace and quiet’.
The girls had been sent to bed but had gone down to get a glass of water some time later, and found Clemmie’s mother sitting alone on the sofa, reading a magazine with the television on; her father, meanwhile, had been watching a second television in the kitchen.
It had been a seemingly insignificant evening at the Jessops’ house but a pivotal moment for Sage.
She simply could not understand why Clemmie’s parents had not seemed to desire each other’s company.
Iris had always sat down for meals with the twins when they were at home.
Dickie, too; every moment he was not buying and selling thoroughbreds on behalf of clients was spent with his family.
Iris and the children were his happy place.
‘Sage, losing Iris was my very worst fear realized. It completely destroyed me. I was unable to function, let alone look after two bereft children. I had no idea how to.’
Sage turned back to her father. Dickie was watching her, his expression both fearful and hopeful.
He still wore the ridiculous Cossack hat and his brown eyes were mournful beneath their bushy brows; she imagined a starving Irish wolfhound that had stolen a roast chicken from the table, now repentant for its inexcusable lapse in behaviour.
‘I just can’t understand how you could have fallen apart so easily, when Casper and I needed you so badly.’
‘There’s something else I have got to tell you.
I’ve never had the courage.’ If they were to have any chance at a relationship going forward, he would have to confess.
He stroked Remington’s silken head as he summoned the nerve to continue, trying to find the words he had not been able to say for sixteen years.
‘Your mother would never have died if it hadn’t been for me.
I killed her.’ His hands were shaking too, though he clasped them tightly, trying to stop them.
Sage and Rafe stared at him. Neither was able to speak; it was as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room.
Dickie clenched his hands into fists and soldiered on.
‘I mean – I didn’t murder her. But it was my fault.
’ He had turned ashen, tears shining in his huge eyes.
‘My horse, Wrecker, had thrown a shoe. He was a bad bugger. Lethal. Do you remember him?’
Sage shook her head. ‘What on earth do you mean it was your fault? She fell.’
Dickie raised his eyes to heaven, blinking back tears.
‘I was fieldmastering and could not do the job with only three shoes on the horse, so your angel mother gave me hers. I had known the horse wasn’t entirely safe.
Damn dangerous, in fact. But I let her get on.
I even gave her a leg up onto him. She got on to ride Wrecker back to the lorry and halfway down the road he went up and over backwards.
She hit her head on the tarmac and he landed on top of her.
And …’ Dickie’s voice cracked. He could not talk for a moment.
He slumped in his chair, hiding his face in his hands.
Sage had tears sliding down her own face.
‘Every time you cried for your mother, I felt like a monster. I was convinced it would be less painful for you and Casper if I wasn’t there, that Betsy and Dennis were who you needed.’
The guilt her father had been carrying around was palpable. It was almost too much to bear. She hurried across the room, throwing her arms around him without hesitation, wanting to give comfort.
‘Oh, Dad. It wasn’t your fault. How could you ever have known?
She was an excellent rider – she only got on that horse because she believed she could ride him.
That’s how she was made.’ Dickie clung onto her; he had prayed for absolution so many times but he had never believed it would come, or that he even deserved it.
He choked back the sobs that burnt in his throat.
Rafe’s phone buzzed again.
‘Oh, Rafe – do go and speak to whoever’s calling you,’ said Sage with concern.
‘It could be an emergency at the yard.’ She was grateful that he had not already disappeared to check his messages but was now feeling considerably less anxious about being left alone with her father. ‘Honestly, I’m fine here. Truly.’
‘Only if you’re sure … I’ll take Hal too.
Grouse could do with a walk – is it all right to let the dog out, sir?
’ Rafe got to his feet hurriedly, self-conscious about intruding on such an intimate family moment.
He wanted to give father and daughter some privacy, and he was anxious to check in with Rosy, from whom he now saw he had three missed calls and two messages.
Worst-case scenarios were galloping about inside his head.
He headed for the door, Hal close on his heels.
Dickie nodded emphatically.
‘Yes, of course. Help yourself to anything, go anywhere.’
When they were alone, Sage asked tentatively, ‘Dad. Did you go all the way to Panama to punch Santiago?’
Dickie looked shamefaced.
‘Yes. Yes, I did. I let my temper run away with me, carried along by the notion that I should protect your honour. When I got there, he called you something unspeakable – and certainly unrepeatable. I felt such anger. On reflection, I suppose I feel the added guilt of your marriage on top of everything else I’ve got wrong.
If I had been around, perhaps it would have prevented you from tethering yourself to such a brute. ’
Sage smiled grimly. ‘I don’t think I can blame you for that mistake, it was all mine.
’ She had more she needed to say. ‘It was horrible without Mumma. And then you going away too … Things have been – hard.’ Sage could hear the crack in her voice.
Regaining control, she continued. ‘You shouldn’t have stayed away for so long.
We really needed you. I really needed you.
’ Her voice quavered again, tears escaping onto her cheekbones. She brushed them away furiously.
Dickie’s face flooded with mortification.
While the twins had been out of sight he had convinced himself that it was for their own good.
He knew that their grandparents were better people than he could ever hope to be.
He had buried himself in the resurrection of the farm as a labour of remorse and love.
But in the years that followed, deep down he had known that his decision to leave was unforgivable, that his wife would be turning in her grave with disappointment.
He had wanted to try and repair the damage.
He just had not known how. Tears of remorse, love and shame welled in his own eyes.
His face was like an open book and Sage softened.
‘It is good to see you though. It’s hard, but …
it feels right.’ Sage would try to forgive her father as well as she could.
After all, she thought, there was little point in prolonging unhappiness when one had the power to call a ceasefire.
She was sure it would not be simple or easy, but she wanted to try.
With a glimmer of mirth in her eye, she said, ‘Well done, though. You really landed one. He had a proper shiner!’
Rafe took Hal’s outstretched hand and they made their way out into the fresh, sun-filled garden, which smelt of rosemary, thyme and sea salt.
He let Grouse out of the car and together they walked down to where the lawn fell away and became rocks, then pebbles and then a beautiful sandy beach where the sea was lazily rolling in and out, the soft shine of the sun reflecting off the clear water.
They continued down to the shore and made their way onto the fine sand.
Hal picked up some hardened, brown seaweed and trailed it along behind him while Grouse barked at the breaking waves and tried to drink the briny water.
Rafe listened to his messages with relief; there was nothing too urgent, no disasters.
For some reason, though, Rosy kept asking where he was.
He would call the yard later to check in.
Back at the house after Hal and Grouse had nearly exhausted Rafe on the beach, Dickie gave them all a basic lunch of bread, cheese and winter salad leaves he had grown, which they washed down with home-made elderflower cordial.
While they ate, Sage asked all the questions that she was burning to pump him with.
Dickie answered them and simultaneously burnt with all the things he wanted to know about her, Casper and Hal but he did not ask any of them, feeling that it was not yet his place.