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Authors: Cathy Woodman
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grin. We’ve come to a truce, I think, although I’ll never forgive him forcheating on me. ‘I had a chat with Matt about you and him.’
‘Oh?’ I say as nonchalantly as I can as a tsunami of blood rushes to the roots of my hair and the tips of my ears.
‘It’s all right. I can keep my trap shut.’
I cringe. What must Matt think? How will I ever face him again? I glance at the crowd of spectators gathered to watch the presentation, and there he is. I look away quickly, but it’s too late, I’ve caught his eye. He smiles and waves. I nod back. Perhaps it isn’t so bad. I can only hope that Matt assumes Henry has got the wrong end of the stick.
When I said Matt was my boyfriend I didn’t think about the consequences. I should have guessed that Matt was Henry’s vet – I knew Henry was one of Westleigh Equine’s clients. I should also have had more than an inkling that Henry would pursue my statement because he likes to gossip. He’d relish being the first to spread the news among the horsey set.
I’m presented with a red rosette the colour of my face, a silver plate and a small cash prize, but these are mere tokens compared to how I feel. Winning is reward enough and I’m euphoric as I canter my beautiful horse around the arena for the lap of honour.
‘The winner, Nicci Chieveley and Willow … Second …’
The sound of hooves and the wind in my ears blots out all other noise and it’s just me and the horse and the scarlet ribbons on the rosette flying back behind her ear. I stand in the stirrups and let Willow slow to atrot as we leave the arena, looking for my mother to share what is turning out to be one of the best days of my life.
A pulse beats in the back of my throat and the butterflies are back when I notice Matt walking purposefully towards me. He raises his hand.
‘Hi, girlfriend,’ he says with a wicked twinkle in his eye. ‘Henry thinks we’re an item. How about that?’
‘How about that?’ I echo. I’m mortified. How could I have been so stupid? Matt must think I’m deranged, and although there’s no particular reason why his opinion should matter, I realise how much I wanted him to think well of me.
‘I wonder who on earth could have given him that impression?’
‘I wonder,’ I say inanely. Matt is teasing me, calling my bluff.
He moves up close and pats Willow’s neck. ‘What are you up to now?’
‘I’m heading back to the lorry, then the yard.’
‘l’ll come with you as far as the lorry.’ As we cross the grass, I’m aware of Henry watching us and Matt walking alongside me, one hand still on Willow’s neck in a gesture of possession.
‘How’s the shoulder?’ I ask quietly.
‘You can take a look, if you like.’
‘I’m being serious,’ I say, challenging his cheeky attitude.
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘I wonder if you could have a quick look at Willow if you’re not in a terrible hurry to get away somewhere tomeet someone, or something.’ I rush on making a real mess of what should be a simple request. ‘She’s pulled up a touch unlevel, and I thought if I trotted her up you could check I’m not imagining it. It’s probably nothing, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.’ I dismount and remove the saddle, resting it on the ramp of the lorry.
I’m tempted to take my hat off, but I would rather faint with heatstroke than reveal my hat-hair in front of Matt. I know it will be flat and damp and that the hairnet will have left a furrow across my forehead.
‘Walk her up and back.’ Matt points towards the aisle between the rows of horseboxes. I walk Willow away from him, turn her and walk her back. ‘Now trot her up.’
I try to keep up with her as I let her have her head.
‘It isn’t the horse. It’s you. You’re one of those neurotic horsey owners.’ Matt moves to join me when I bring Willow to a halt. ‘She looks perfectly sound to me.’
‘She might be sound, but she still looks like a bloody donkey.’ Henry’s voice
‘Oh?’ I say as nonchalantly as I can as a tsunami of blood rushes to the roots of my hair and the tips of my ears.
‘It’s all right. I can keep my trap shut.’
I cringe. What must Matt think? How will I ever face him again? I glance at the crowd of spectators gathered to watch the presentation, and there he is. I look away quickly, but it’s too late, I’ve caught his eye. He smiles and waves. I nod back. Perhaps it isn’t so bad. I can only hope that Matt assumes Henry has got the wrong end of the stick.
When I said Matt was my boyfriend I didn’t think about the consequences. I should have guessed that Matt was Henry’s vet – I knew Henry was one of Westleigh Equine’s clients. I should also have had more than an inkling that Henry would pursue my statement because he likes to gossip. He’d relish being the first to spread the news among the horsey set.
I’m presented with a red rosette the colour of my face, a silver plate and a small cash prize, but these are mere tokens compared to how I feel. Winning is reward enough and I’m euphoric as I canter my beautiful horse around the arena for the lap of honour.
‘The winner, Nicci Chieveley and Willow … Second …’
The sound of hooves and the wind in my ears blots out all other noise and it’s just me and the horse and the scarlet ribbons on the rosette flying back behind her ear. I stand in the stirrups and let Willow slow to atrot as we leave the arena, looking for my mother to share what is turning out to be one of the best days of my life.
A pulse beats in the back of my throat and the butterflies are back when I notice Matt walking purposefully towards me. He raises his hand.
‘Hi, girlfriend,’ he says with a wicked twinkle in his eye. ‘Henry thinks we’re an item. How about that?’
‘How about that?’ I echo. I’m mortified. How could I have been so stupid? Matt must think I’m deranged, and although there’s no particular reason why his opinion should matter, I realise how much I wanted him to think well of me.
‘I wonder who on earth could have given him that impression?’
‘I wonder,’ I say inanely. Matt is teasing me, calling my bluff.
He moves up close and pats Willow’s neck. ‘What are you up to now?’
‘I’m heading back to the lorry, then the yard.’
‘l’ll come with you as far as the lorry.’ As we cross the grass, I’m aware of Henry watching us and Matt walking alongside me, one hand still on Willow’s neck in a gesture of possession.
‘How’s the shoulder?’ I ask quietly.
‘You can take a look, if you like.’
‘I’m being serious,’ I say, challenging his cheeky attitude.
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘I wonder if you could have a quick look at Willow if you’re not in a terrible hurry to get away somewhere tomeet someone, or something.’ I rush on making a real mess of what should be a simple request. ‘She’s pulled up a touch unlevel, and I thought if I trotted her up you could check I’m not imagining it. It’s probably nothing, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.’ I dismount and remove the saddle, resting it on the ramp of the lorry.
I’m tempted to take my hat off, but I would rather faint with heatstroke than reveal my hat-hair in front of Matt. I know it will be flat and damp and that the hairnet will have left a furrow across my forehead.
‘Walk her up and back.’ Matt points towards the aisle between the rows of horseboxes. I walk Willow away from him, turn her and walk her back. ‘Now trot her up.’
I try to keep up with her as I let her have her head.
‘It isn’t the horse. It’s you. You’re one of those neurotic horsey owners.’ Matt moves to join me when I bring Willow to a halt. ‘She looks perfectly sound to me.’
‘She might be sound, but she still looks like a bloody donkey.’ Henry’s voice
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