Zara Stoneley - Stable Mates

Lottie slid off the ramp and stood up slowly in front of the bemused Rory. ‘She’ll sell up, she hates horses.’

‘She might not actually hate them, poppet.’

‘You’re right, that’s worse. She doesn’t give a monkey’s.’

‘I don’t get you pair at all.’ With a clatter of hooves and an ear-shrieking whinny that threatened to burst Lottie’s eardrums, Flash came down the ramp and headed for her stable, coming to an abrupt halt when she reached the end of the lead rope, which still had Pip attached. A Pip who had stopped by the anguished-looking Lottie. ‘What’s the problem? Neither of you liked him, did you?’ She looked from one to the other. ‘I mean, you hardly knew him.’

‘I did know him. I saw him at the centre all the time, I used to bloody live there, remember?’ Lottie peered through her fingers. Liking him wasn’t the issue.

‘Well, to be fair, I don’t remember, because I wasn’t here then. But you weren’t pals, were you? You hardly even know Amanda, do you? But you look like one of your nearest and dearest has popped their clogs.’

‘But what if she sells up?’

‘So?’ Pip shrugged, and hauled back on the rope as the mare made a new dash for freedom. ‘Someone will buy it, I mean how many places like that come on the market? That equestrian centre must be worth an absolute fortune.’

‘Exactly. To a property developer.’ Rory caught hold of Flash’s headcollar to avoid her spinning round and knocking the already wavering Lottie to the floor. He understood the look on Lottie’s face, even if Pip hadn’t caught on. ‘If she sells to the first person who knocks on the door, then Billy has lost his yard and facilities, the pony club lose their venue, and the winter dressage and show-jumping competitions are gone forever. The place will be bulldozed and turned into a chavvy housing estate or a country theme park.’

‘Very succinct appraisal. You’re such a snob, Rory.’

‘But what about Dad?’ Lottie’s wail got lost as Rory’s defensive streak kicked in. To Tippermere, the Equestrian Centre was the heart of the village, to Billy it was something far more important. It was his life, and always had been, as far as Lottie could gather, since the death of the one person that had mattered most to him. Her mother.

‘This is Cheshire not bloody Essex, we wouldn’t even be able to hack down the lanes because they’d be snarled up with petrol fumes from 4x4s that are only used for the school run, and The Bulls Head would be renamed The Rampant Cow and serve mojitos and turkey twizzlers to the masses.’

Pip laughed. ‘Don’t exaggerate, you sound a right nobby nimby. Anyhow, I’m sure Amanda wouldn’t do anything like that. And aren’t you being a bit selfish? Neither of you have asked how she is, or anything.’

‘How is she?’ Lottie looked up from the piece of hay she’d been frantically tying in knots, her mind still on Billy and what he’d do when he found out. If he hadn’t already.

‘That sounds so insincere Lots, she’s in bits, I mean how would you take it if you woke up and found the love of your life stiff at the side of you? And I mean stiff all over, not just where it matters.’

‘You’re calling me for being insincere and say something like that?’ Lottie dropped the wisp of hay and stuck her hands in her pockets. ‘Do you think he was the love of her life?’

‘Well she was very fond of him, it wasn’t just his wallet, though I’m sure that helped. It was a massive heart attack apparently.’

‘They weren’t? I mean, you know, at it? Do you remember that film where they were and the guy had a heart attack?’

‘I’m off if you’re going to talk films. Here, I’ll take her.’ Rory tugged the lead rope from Pip’s hand.

‘Goldie Hawn wasn’t it?’ Pip grinned. ‘On your way to comfort the grieving widow are you Rory, offer your services?’

‘Well neither of you are interested.’ He gave her ponytail a tug. ‘Maybe she needs a manly shoulder to cry on.’

‘You better shower first, you stink of eau de horse.’

‘Oh, God, you don’t think every man in the village will be making up to her now, do you?’ Lottie was gnawing at the inside of her cheek and looking even more worried than ever, her gaze fixed on Rory, who laughed. ‘It’s not bloody funny.’

‘As neither of you think she likes horses, then I think falling for a man who permanently stinks of manure, is covered in horse or dog hair and spends every waking hour either talking about the four-legged wonders or riding them is not on her bucket list. She’d probably prefer a nice, rich city wanker. Sorry to have to say this, but I think every man that I’ve met in this place falls into that smelly category. Well, every single man within a twenty, no make that thirty, mile radius.’ Pip looked from one to the other and wondered what really worried Lottie more, the fact that Rory might go off to woo the stricken widow, or that her dad could find himself without stables and a yard. But, as seriously sexy and fit as Rory was, she couldn’t imagine the immaculate Amanda falling for his charms.

‘Thank you for the ego boost, darling Pippa.’ Rory gave her a smacker straight on the lips. ‘We can rely on you to bring us down to earth. Love the artistic muck heap by the way.’

‘You noticed.’ Despite herself, Pip grinned. It had taken her half the afternoon to coax the spilling muck heap into some kind of order. And climbing on top of it had left her stinking from sweat as well as horseshit.

‘I thought you were going to see your mum?’ Lottie was staring at her, suspicion lacing the normally clear gaze. ‘Which is why you couldn’t go to the dressage with Rory.’

‘Well…’ She paused. ‘She rang to tell me she was too busy and could I make it next week.’ Which was half true, she had been invited next week, but not instead of today. Today she’d wanted to check out the new arrivals in the village, partly for work and partly because she was curious. And it had been worth missing the sight of Rory being carted unceremoniously through a novice dressage test. Just.

‘So, how did it go?’ She looked at Lottie.

‘You know that Morecambe and Wise sketch—’

‘I’m not that old.’

‘Nor am I, but there are repeats. Every Christmas. The one with the piano, where he says he’s playing all the right notes but not necessarily in the right order? It was like that. Every step, every transition, but not necessarily in the right order. And some of them combined.’ Lottie was fighting to keep her face straight, but gave up the battle when Pip started to giggle. ‘That horse has paces to die for apparently, and Rory nearly did.’ A full giggle attack hit. ‘Honestly, I nearly wet myself, especially when Uncle Dom came up to pass comment.’

‘Shit, wow.’ Pip glanced at Rory and the look on his face set her off again.

‘You pair are so immature, such giggly girls, aren’t you?’

‘Yup.’

He headed across the yard, the docile Flash keeping step as the terriers circled them at a safe distance.

‘Oh, Christ, it wasn’t really that bad was it? Seriously?’

‘Seriously.’ Lottie sobered up. ‘She was a complete cow for the first half, did a brilliant second part and then spotted a hat she didn’t like and left the arena without using the marked exit. Just missed the judge’s car, but nearly annihilated the secretary.’

‘He’s taken it reasonably well though, hasn’t he?’

‘Reasonably, but no way was I going to argue with him over who drove the lorry back. Good job dad didn’t spot him as we drove through the village.’ Lottie grimaced and tried not to think about the fact that they’d had a very close encounter with a large group of ramblers (which Billy wouldn’t have cared about, as he viewed them in a similar light as he did rabbits: destructive and a waste of space), and an even closer shave with a Lycra-clad trio of cyclists who had made a grab for the wing mirror in retaliation (which he would have been bothered about, as it resulted in a swerve that nearly put a scrape down the other side of the lorry).