Christmas Kiss
Authors: Chrissie Loveday
© Chrissie Loveday 2010
Chrissie Loveday has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
First published in the UK in 2010 by D C Thomson as ‘A Love Shared’
This edition published in 2014 by Endeavour Press Ltd.
Sarah struggled to push the bale of hay towards the feeding manger. It was hopeless. Once more she cursed her painful, broken arm. Major, her beloved stallion whinnied and nuzzled her good shoulder.
‘You can just stop that’ she ordered fondly. ‘If it wasn’t for the accident, I should be out with you right now.’ He snuffled against her once more and she let the bale drop to the ground as she patted him. ‘Beautiful boy, aren’t you.’ She loved everything about her horse. His smell. His warmth. His magnificent looks. Horses were so comfortable in their own skin. It fitted perfectly over the smooth muscles and shone in the autumn sunshine. ‘All the same,’ she murmured. ‘I have to do something about this ridiculous situation.’ She half dragged, half pushed the bale of hay towards the manger, not even daring to think of how she could get it off the ground once she reached it.
Major gave a whinny. Sarah looked round as she saw that someone was riding past the gate of her small paddock. It was a strange horse, a rather magnificent grey. She knew most of the people around here who had horses but she recognised neither horse nor rider. He, the rider, looked as imposing as the horse. He was wearing a well cut tweed jacket and beautifully tailored jodhpurs. The obligatory helmet covered his head and shaded a large part of his face.
‘Are you having problems?’ he asked rather fatuously. He leapt down from his horse in an easy, graceful movement and flipped the reins of the horses head, hooking them onto the gate post. ‘Here, let me get that for you.’ He hefted the bale of hay into the manger as if weighed nothing and smiled down at her. ‘Looks like you need more than a bit of casual help. How did it happen?’ he asked, nodding towards her injured arm.
‘Some mad maniac on a motor biked came charging down the bridle path and scared the life out of both of us. Major panicked at the sudden noise and I went down like the proverbial ton of bricks.’ Subconsciously, she brushed aside her unruly mop of blond hair in some vain attempt to make herself look less of a tramp in front of this perfectly turned out rider.
‘Did you catch the biker?’
‘No chance. He was off and gone. Fortunately, Major didn’t wander and I was able to lead him back, this useless arm hanging down. I managed to get him back into the field and then I sort of passed out. Someone driving by saw me and luckily, stopped and came into the field. Poor Major was standing over me like a protective angel.’
‘Good heavens. Sounds dreadful.’
‘It was at the time. Joe called the ambulance and managed to unsaddle Major. Joe’s one of the local farmers, so he’s used to livestock. Major’s very gentle anyway. Just large.’
‘He’s a beautiful specimen. So, you were carted off the hospital and the arm set?’
‘Yes. They kept me in overnight, as I live alone. That was six days ago.’
‘I assume you live somewhere nearby?’
‘I have a cottage just back there. I rent the paddock, so it’s all very convenient.’
‘Look, why don’t you let me take care of Major, until you’re on your feet again? Or should I say back with a functioning arm. There’s plenty of room and feeding two horses isn’t any more effort than seeing to one.’
‘Oh I couldn’t possibly,’ she mumbled blushing. How could she let a stranger, however dashing, look after her beloved horse? ‘Very kind of you but I can manage.’ He stared at her with cool grey eyes, looking her up and down. She was clearly fibbing. She could no more manage to look after a large horse than do a hand stand at this present time.
‘Suit yourself then. See you around, no doubt.’ He strode back to his own mount and leapt easily into the saddle. He gave a cursory wave and trotted off.
‘Thanks for the help,’ she called after him but he was out range. She looked down at her scruffy, grubby jeans and the old buttoned jacket pulled over her plastered arm and realised what a spectacle she presented. ‘So,’ she murmured to Major, ‘who do you think he was? Rather an amazing sight and a gorgeous mare with him. I bet you could fancy her, too, couldn’t you boy?’ She gave a small sigh, half regretting the fact she had turned down his generous offer but sensing her instincts had been right to refuse. She really had no idea who he was, nor how he could manage to be out riding on a weekday morning. Landed gentry, was a cliché that sprung to mind. She’d certainly remember if she’d seen either him or his mare before. The horse was clearly a thoroughbred and he spoke with a rather cut glass accent that suggested private education and money in the background. All the same, her own dear Major was worth far more than money to her and she couldn’t bear him stabled somewhere she didn’t know. All the same, he must have thought her very odd. A scruffy female with dirty hair and covered in bits of hay. Somehow, she needed to sort herself out. Do something about her hair for a start and organise some clothes she could manage to get on and off with one arm. Being right handed and with a broken right arm, life was indeed difficult. Usually, she was smart, always well turned out and with her enviably slim figure, usually set a high standard for the entire office.
She walked home. She shivered in the cold autumn air. It wasn’t far but she wasn’t used to walking even this short distance and there was no way she could drive. She had tried working at home using her left hand to type on her computer but it was difficult, inefficient and an absolute pain. Her clients would have to make do with phone calls for the rest of this week. It would be at least another six weeks before she could drive again, so after a few more days of enforced sick leave, she needed to find a way to get into work at the solicitor’s office in the nearby town. She specialised in family law and had many people who relied on her. Also after a few more days and she might feel more able to see her clients again, if of course, she could first sort out her own appearance. It wouldn’t do for a respectable solicitor to be seen in scruffy jeans and an old button-through cardigan, in the office.
The answering machine was flashing when she got back home. Her mother. No doubt fussing again for her to go back to stay with them. She played the message and dialled her number with an air of resignation.
‘Hi Mum. Returning your call.’
‘Darling, how are you?’ Her tone conveyed sympathy and exasperation all in one go. Her mother specialised in such tones.
‘I’m fine. Managing just fine.’
‘And is the pain a little less?’
‘Getting there. A few things are difficult and of course, I can’t drive yet.’
‘Then why on earth don’t you...’
‘I know, come back home and let you wait on me. I can’t Mum. I shall be going back to work soon. Once I can organise a lift, at least I can dictate letters and see my clients.’
‘I bet you’re not feeding yourself properly and that horse of yours will be taking up all your time. How on earth are you managing him?’
‘I’m getting the odd bit of help,’ she replied, blessing the man who had stopped just a few minutes ago. It saved her from really fibbing. ‘Actually, someone has offered to stable him for a few days.’
‘Thank heavens. We’ve been so worried you’d do yourself even more damage trying to manage him. When does he go?’
‘He isn’t. I mean, I don’t know this person at all. He just happened by when I was putting hay out.’
‘But it sounds like a perfect solution.’
‘Maybe if I knew the man...’
‘Oh, a man was it?’
‘Oh Mum, stop that. No, I mean yes, he was a man but I’ve never seen him before and I would never let Major go anywhere I didn’t know or let just anyone look after him.’
‘I don’t know where you get your stubbornness from. You get an offer which gives you the perfect solution and you turn it down. Find out who the man is for goodness sake. Check him out. He might just be the answer to your prayers.’
‘Or yours,’ she muttered. Her mother was constantly nagging her to find herself a nice man with whom she could settle down. And doubtless produce babies for her to coo over. As if her sister’s three weren’t enough. ‘How’s Beth and the tribe?’
‘She’s fine. They’re coming for lunch on Sunday. Why don’t you join us?’
‘Can’t drive, remember?’
‘We could organise something. I’m sure there’s someone who could give you a lift. Your new friend for example.’
‘I don’t even know his name. But I’ll see you soon Mum. Must go. Love to Dad and to Beth and Mike and the kids. Bye.’
Sarah put the phone down before her mother could launch into a new tirade. She loved her parents but she was in no mood to face another badgering to return home. She could manage. Of course she could manage. At twenty nine, she was quite old enough to manage without her parents’ help. Okay, so Beth had produced her three boys by the time she was this age but Beth was not career minded. She and Mike had been childhood sweethearts and had never wanted anything more than to be married and have a family. Nothing at all wrong with that. She just wished her mother could accept that she preferred a career and that she had done well to reach the position she had, at her age. Specialising in family law, she felt she had made a large contribution to the firm’s work and had always tried to deal fairly with the local community who came to her for advice. She put the kettle on and spooned coffee into her favourite mug.
As she sat by the fire, electric as it provided instant heat, she dialled the number of her hairdresser.
‘Lesley? Hi, it’s Sarah. Sarah Pennyweather. I wonder if you could fit me in for a cut and blow dry. Soon as possible, please. I’ve broken my arm so I can’t do much and it’s looking a dreadful mess.’
‘I can do tomorrow morning if that’s any good. Nine-thirty.’
‘Great. I’ll have to get a taxi and then call one to return me when I’m done.’
‘No problem. We can organise the collection taxi for you when you’re finished. See you at nine-thirty tomorrow. Thanks. Bye.’
Sarah hung up and settled back to enjoy her coffee. She looked for her notepad and a pen. Then realised she couldn’t write left handed. She always had lists. She lived by lists. Jobs to do on a daily basis. Since her accident nearly a week ago, she had been doddering through the days. Her main concern was looking after Major but her usual routine had gone to pot. The normal day began at six-thirty when she went to the paddock and made sure he had food and water. When it was cold at night, she shut him in the stable but that hadn’t been necessary, so far. It was still warm so she could leave him outside. By seven fifteen, she had usually showered and was eating her breakfast of fruit and muesli, washed down with coffee. Then it was drive to the office and be ready at her desk by eight-thirty. Organised. Efficient.
For the past week, she had been getting up around nine, flung on her oldest clothes and made coffee and breakfast. She’d wandered down to the paddock and then spent the rest of the day reading or even watching day time television. She realised that she was in danger of getting hooked on the various property programmes and then found herself looking forward to whatever rubbish people were digging out of their attics to sell to provide some treat or other. It was a dangerous situation, she told herself. She was removing herself from everything she believed in and becoming hopelessly distanced from her normal days. All the same, she might just watch the programme where they were doing up a whole house in a ridiculously short time. Just as she was settling down, the phone rang. She recognised the office number.
‘Hi Sarah. It’s Poppy. How are you getting on?’
‘Oh, you know. So, so. Thanks for asking. Still can’t drive and getting bored and frustrated by how little I seem able to do. How are things at the office?’
‘Erm, well... Actually, I’m ringing to say that we need you to come in. Tomorrow morning. There’s a full practice meeting. Nine o’clock sharp.’
‘But I can’t. I can’t drive. And anyway, I have an appointment.’
‘Sorry love. It’s urgent. No excuses. You’ll have to take a taxi.’
‘What’s going on?’
‘Sorry. Can’t say. Just get here tomorrow. Bye.’
Sarah listened to the dialling tones after Poppy had rung off. How strange. usually, the receptionist-cum-secretary was so friendly and chatty. She was the public face of the partnership. This demand was decidedly off. Damnation. She would have to cancel the hair appointment and oh dear, much worse, go into the office looking an absolute mess. She dialled the hairdresser again.
‘I’m sorry but I have to cancel my appointment for tomorrow after all. Demand from the practice that I go in. I’ll just have to go into the office looking a fright,’ she told her friend.
‘I could always come round to your home and do it for you after work. In the circumstances, I’m sure the manageress won’t mind. I’ll be up-front about it so there shouldn’t be a problem.’
‘That would be marvellous. Thanks so much Lesley.’
That was one problem solved. The next was to find something she could wear, that would look halfway decent over a cumbersome plaster. What on earth was so urgent that she needed to go to the office when she was on sick leave? She’d been away for less than a week. What could have happened in that short a time? Poppy had been very mysterious. She wondered whether to phone one of the others but decided against it. Maybe she’d really prefer not to know what was going on until tomorrow. No, she would tackle her wardrobe problem, oh and she must remember to book a taxi. She was hopeless without her lists telling her what she needed to do. The usual smart suits she wore for work were useless. The best she could manage was a plain camisole top and a loose jacket hanging over one shoulder, teamed with a pair of smartish trousers. It would have to do. It was only a meeting tomorrow, after all. She could always buy something else in the town, after the meeting. She pondered over the reason for the urgent meeting. She’d heard nothing on the office grapevine about any changes. It must be something and nothing. She grilled some cheese on toast and remembered her mother’s words about feeding herself properly. She would wander into the village this afternoon and stock up at the village shop. They must have some fresh vegetables and fruit. Need to eat my five a day, she reminded herself.
