Vets in Love by Cathy Woodman Read Free Book Online Page B

they’re working around horses. She’s been plaiting Willow’s mane and loading the lorry, yet she looks immaculate in an ice-blue top, navy waistcoat and cream casual trousers.
    ‘Everything’s a bit of a mystery to me at the moment,’ she goes on. ‘Have you managed to get in contact with your sister recently?’ I notice how she refuses to refer to Cheska as her daughter. When I don’t respond, she continues, ‘I understand you don’t want to tell me, but I need to know that my grandchildren are safe, even if …’ her voice fades then returns, ‘… I can’t see them.’
    ‘I spoke to her on the phone a while ago – I did tell you.’
    ‘Have you given her money again?’
    ‘It’s a loan – she’s going to pay me back.’
    ‘You’ll be telling me that pigs can fly next,’ Mum says scathingly. ‘Oh, slow down, darling,’ she exclaims, grabbing the edge of her seat as the lorry swings into a zigzag bend.
    ‘I am going slowly.’ I drive as if I have a dozen eggs loose on a tray in the back of the lorry with Willow. I did that for real once and I didn’t crack a single egg, but Mum’s comment and the thought of the competition ahead unnerves me. I have butterflies doing the salsa in my stomach.
    ‘How is the lonely farmer?’ I ask. ‘What’s he like? You haven’t really gone into detail.’
    ‘He’s what you’d describe as an old man.’ She laughs. ‘I’m sure you don’t want to know every wrinkle.’
    ‘How old?’
    ‘A few years older than me …’
    ‘How much older?’
    ‘Fourteen years.’
    ‘Fourteen?’ I say, appalled.
    ‘Really, Nicci, fourteen years might seem like a huge gap to you, but to me it’s nothing. Age is just a number.’
    ‘But that makes him seventy.’
    ‘He’s very fit,’ Mum says, her voice bubbling with happiness and humour. ‘He has his own teeth and his own hair, and to be honest, I’d almost got to the point where all I was asking for was a man with a pulse. He’s lovely and I hope one day I’ll introduce him to you.’ Mum changes the subject. ‘Would you like me to run through the test with you?’
    She’s referring to the dressage test, but it’s already etched in my mind. I glance at the side-view mirror, catching sight of a line of traffic, at least six cars, a caravan and behind that – I can see it as we start to climb the long Devon hill – a big red tractor. I put my foot down to the floor, but the lorry maintains its slow crawl. I can’t believe I’m actually holding up an agricultural vehicle.
    We arrive eventually and park in the field allocated as the lorry park at the end of the second row of horseboxes and trailers. I switch off the engine and take a few slow breaths before getting out and joining my mother, who already has the ramp down at theback and is leading Willow out on her head-collar. She ties her to the baling twine attached to the metal ring at the side of the lorry, tying her short so she can’t snatch at the grass under her feet.
    ‘You sort yourself out while I see to Willow.’ Mum checks her watch. ‘You have about an hour before your test.’
    I start to walk towards the ramp to take a short cut into the living quarters that lie between the stall and the cab when a voice catches my attention.
    ‘Hello, Nicci.’
    ‘Henry?’ I turn to find myself face to face with a black horse’s gleaming shoulder. I look up, shading my eyes. It’s my most recent ex-boyfriend, mounted on his horse, his fingers playing on the reins, his legs long against the horse’s sides. He’s looking incredibly cool in his hat, black dressage coat, white breeches and leather boots, while the horse is sweating already, its veins standing proud of its skin.
    ‘How are you?’ Henry leans down and runs his fingers under the girth to check it’s secure.
    ‘I’m well, thank you.’ I was warm, but my blood runs a little cold at the sight of him. ‘And you?’
    ‘Oh, I’m on top form.’ He grins. ‘As always.’
    Arrogant