CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE #3
Santiago’s blackmail threat was still looming over her though, complicating everything with toxicity and fear.
She wanted, more than anything, to see Rafe.
Perhaps Santiago really had returned to Panama; perhaps he would never know if she saw Rafe …
She had caught sight of Rafe earlier that morning, sitting on Warhorse with easy grace, his handsome eyes sombre, impassive and full of concentration under the shadow of his flat cap, watching his other horses work.
Sage had wanted to gallop over to him and hurl herself into his arms. He had been so absorbed in his work, however, that she did not think he had even noticed her and her longing had only been increased by this.
It was so attractive when a man gave his attention, wholeheartedly, to something.
To watch him striving, unreservedly, to achieve his dreams, moved Sage.
She loved the fact that she was not the sole focus of Rafe’s attention.
Santiago, to begin with, had been obsessed with her, utterly blinkered in his pursuit; it had been smothering and destructive and had proved an infertile soil for any sort of healthy relationship to spring up from.
Sage trudged upstairs to change out of her riding clothes but halfway up the stairs, Hal caught up with her.
‘Mumma, can I ride Custard? Now, please?’ This seemed like an answer to her scrambled thoughts.
She missed Rafe desperately. It was torture staying away from him, and she might be able to sneak into his yard if she took Hal and Custard for a walk. She was going to risk it.
They left North Place along the back drive as she did not want to walk to Touchstone Lodge in the open in case they were seen. After the encounter with Mary, she felt paranoid about how far Santiago’s influence had spread.
Hal was merrily singing ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’, which was an incongruous accompaniment to the wet pavements and drizzly wintry fog, but although slightly mismatched it was not altogether inharmonious.
Meandering their way through the back roads they wound their way into Rafe’s yard.
Sage looked furtively over her shoulder to check she was not being watched as she led Hal through the stone archway.
She felt like a fugitive, and a pulse of frustration and loathing towards her husband shot through her; she sent up a wish that she could finally be free of him.
Instead of going into the yard, she led Custard around to the side door that led straight into the kitchen.
Rafe would be eating in front of the racing on the telly at half past one.
She tapped on the window and then opened the door.
Rafe held a sandwich in one hand and his phone in the other while the racing blared from the flat-screen on the wall.
A creature of habit. Sage could not help but smile.
‘Oh, hello, the prodigal returns!’ Rafe laughed as Hal’s sweet round face and Custard’s curious whiskery one peered around the door frame.
‘Monkey is my puppy!’ Hal cried, ecstatic to see Rafe.
He wriggled around in the saddle, flapping his legs in excitement which Custard interpreted as a sign to go forward.
He put his little black hoof and yellow leg up and onto the terracotta kitchen floor and the rest of his sturdy little body slithered through the blue-painted door while his tiny, ineffective pilot shrieked with glee.
‘Hello, Rafe!’
‘Hello, young man. Is your pony wearing shoes?’ Rafe asked sternly.
‘No, Rafe,’ answered Hal. Sage dashed forward to pull Custard back.
‘That’s fine. He can come in,’ Rafe said, folding Sage into a big hug. ‘How are you?’ he mumbled into the top of her head. ‘Have you lost your phone, or chosen to throw it in the river?’
‘I didn’t want to turn it on again, just in case.
’ Sage gave Rafe a meaningful look and he nodded, understanding immediately.
She hugged Rafe tightly back until a ruffling noise caught their attention.
Custard had shuffled over to the table and had put his black velvet nose into a bag of Kettle Chips.
He withdrew his pale face, his upper lip curled up in disgust at the strange taste, revealing rows of teeth just as though he were laughing.
Rafe selected two apples from the walnut fruit bowl on the huge dresser; he put one on the table next to the crisps and handed the other to Hal.
‘Try those instead.’ He turned back to Sage, ignoring the pony that was now eagerly and loudly crunching, and salivating green-white apple froth all over his immaculate kitchen.
‘I’ve just had my mother on the telephone.
She would like for you, Hal and me to go down to Crockford for the meet at home on Tuesday.
I was thinking we could box Ajax, Warhorse and Custard down on Monday night, go hunting on Tuesday and then drive back to Newmarket that evening?
Mum is very keen to go on her feet with Hal on the lead rein.
She is actually so keen, in fact, that they’ve got a new pony for him.
I told her she was mental, that Custard can travel but there it is, Hal is now the owner of two immensely smart ponies.
’ Custard sidled over to Rafe and nuzzled his soft blue jersey lovingly, smearing green goo all down his sleeve.
‘Hmmm, I might start to go off you though,’ he said, rubbing him affectionately on his silky muzzle.