Sugar Daddies (55 page)

He nodded. “You’ll see for yourself.”

They wheeled me through the stalls, the ones I’d hated so much when I was a kid, and I could feel my heart pounding, nausea threatening to make me vomit.

Rick and Carl were so quiet, the whole yard was so quiet. A couple of horsey faces peered out to say hello, but none of them were my Samson.

They pulled my chair to a halt at the stall on the end. I held my breath. Hardly daring to look.

And there he was.

He poked his head over the door, and his ears pricked forward, and I could hardly see him through the tears. Relief and guilt and love, all mushed together.

“Help me up,” I said, squirming in my chair, and even though Rick and Carl protested, they helped me stand, held me tall and balanced while I threw my arms around his neck. “I’m sorry,” I cried, my face in his mane. “I’m so sorry.”

I leaned over the door to look at him and his forelegs were still bandaged, still swollen and sore and messed up. But he was still him, still happy, still snuffling around for mints.

“He’ll be alright,” Carl said. “He’s doing well.”

“I did this,” I cried. “It was my fault. All my fault.”

“Don’t be daft,” Rick said. “You were amazing, you were both amazing. It was just an accident, that’s all. Just one of those fucking awful things.”

I shook my head. “I wanted to win, it was all I was thinking about. I was stupid, and selfish and reckless.”

“It was a split second,” Carl said. “One split second of bad luck. Everyone on that course wanted to win, Katie.
Everyone
. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Look at him.” Rick’s voice was so warm. “He’s doing just fine. Snug in his stall with an endless supply of hay and mints. He probably thinks he’s on fucking holiday.”

The thought made me laugh, and it was snotty and wet and no doubt thoroughly unattractive, but those guys held me tight and kissed my hair and made it feel alright.

“You’ll ride him again,” Carl said. “Just give it time. Don’t give up Katie, not on him and not on you, either.”

“I’d never give up on him,” I said.

“Not your dreams, either. Never give up on your dreams.”

“My dream was to event with Samson. And to have Jack’s yard.” I sighed. “Both of those are gone now.”

“For the time being,” Carl said. “But it’s not permanent. It’s not the end.”

“Harrison Gables, the internship, the yard… Samson… it’s all gone.”

They didn’t say a word.

What could they say?

They lowered me back into the chair and I was already tiring, but I didn’t want to leave.

“Can I have a minute?” I asked. “I just want to sit with Samson awhile.”

“Sure,” Carl said, and both of them ruffled my hair, gave me some space.

I spoke to my boy, told him how much I’d missed him, how happy I was he was safe. Told him I’d find him a new home, somewhere nice to recover at pasture, somewhere with other horses and people who could help me take good care of him.

I told him I loved him, how much I’d always loved him, how proud I was that he’d tried so hard for me on the course.

I blushed as I heard footsteps behind me, unable to turn in my seat far enough to see if it was Rick or Carl coming back for me.

“Hi, Katie,” a voice said, and my skin prickled, my heart thumping.

I held my breath as my sister stepped into my eyeline, ready for the big I am to come out and start gloating.

But she didn’t.

She didn’t do anything like that at all.

Verity launched right into an explanation of Samson’s current medical state. She told me how they were treating him, what painkillers he was on, and what the plan was for his improvement.

She leaned against his stable door as she spoke, and my furry boy nudged at her like she was someone he cared about, someone he knew.

My mind could hardly compute it.

She rubbed his ears, and smiled at him. “He’s a really good lad,” she said. “He’s so good natured, Katie, and he has such good manners.” She looked at me. “You’ve done so well with him. He’s a testament to a good handler.”

I shook my head. “He’s always been like that.”

She cleared her throat. “You were great out there, on the course. You were doing so well.”

The tears pricked. “No. I wasn’t. I was reckless.”

“Unlucky,” she said. “You were unlucky. That’s all.”

I shrugged, changing the subject. “I can’t believe he’s here, that you’re taking care of him. Thank you.” I met her eyes. “I know we’ve had our differences…”

She laughed. “Yeah, well, you could say that.”

I laughed a little, too. “A few differences.” I paused. “But thank you. He’s so important to me.”

She smiled, and it reached all the way to her eyes. “No problem.” She shifted from one foot to the other, and I was jealous, just wished I could be on my own two feet. “Katie, I just want to say. I need to say I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

She shook her head as though I was crazy. “For everything. I was just a kid… but I was…”

A mega bitch. A psycho from hell. A horrible little cow who ruined every chance I had of getting to know my father.

“…scared,” she said. “I was scared.”

“Scared?” The thought was strange. Alien. She’d never seemed scared. Not once.

She shrugged. “My mother always taught us that attack is the best form of defence. No mercy, go get’ em and all that.” She sighed. “Then there was you, and it was all anyone talked about. All Dad talked about.
Katie’s so lovely, Katie’s so pretty, so kind. Play nicely with Katie, look after Katie.
”

My blood turned cold.

“And I was scared. Scared he’d like you best. Scared you’d take my things. And you were so lovely and pretty and kind. Everything I wasn’t. I hated it. I hated you.”

“You made that pretty clear,” I said, but it wasn’t hostile.

“I just wanted to say sorry. I mean, at work you were so much better than me… you could have gloated… I wouldn’t have blamed you, wouldn’t have blamed you for humiliating me or rubbing it in… that would have been fair…”

“I wanted to,” I admitted. “Some days.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t. That isn’t who I am.”

She laughed. “I wish I could say the same thing about myself.”

“Maybe you can,” I said. “Every day is a fresh start.”

“That’s what I’d like,” she said. “One day, I mean. A fresh start.” She looked so nervous. “It put things in some perspective for me, seeing you at work. And then with Samson, you rode so well on that course. Really great. I had a horse who carried me through, but you, you really rode… you and him.” She gave him a pat. “I just wanted to say sorry, not that it’ll be worth anything, not after everything, but with Samson being here, and you and Dad making amends, I just thought I’d say it.”

“Thanks.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. “I really appreciate your help with Samson. I really do.”

“You’ll ride him again,” she said. “Give him some time out.”

“A
lot
of time out.”

She didn’t argue. “And your leg, it will get better…”

“Eventually.” I was smiling, though, because she was right. It would get better. “It could have been worse. He made it. We’re both still here.”

“And you’ll still do things together, and if you want to ride, when you’re better, I mean, you could always ride one of mine, just until Samson’s…” She took a breath. “I’d like that.”

Too much, too soon, but I kept smiling. My emotions were piling up in my belly, and I felt small again, and weak. But strong, too. I felt it all at once.

I tried to lighten the mood.

“I’m so bummed about Harrison,” I said. “I mean talk about a shitter. You’ll have to take me some photos. I’ll want to know
everything
.” I laughed. “You’ll have to think of me, hobbling around on my crutches while you’re learning secrets from the best handler that ever existed.” I flipped her the finger, but it was good-humoured, as good-humoured as I could make it. “Lucky cowbag.”

She didn’t seem to think it was funny, and I felt strangely guilty.

“But I…” She cleared her throat. “We cancelled Harrison.
I
cancelled Harrison. Not permanently, just until you’re better.”

The blood drained from my face, my jaw loose. “You did?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes twinkled. “Not just for you, of course.” She tutted loudly, but it was in fun. “I’m planning on staying on at the office, after the internship. I think I might specialise in marketing. I’m enjoying it.”

I’d forgotten all about the internship. It felt so far away.

“That means a lot,” I said. “About Harrison. I really wanted…”

“I know,” she said. “It’s my dream, too.”

I felt choked up and awkward. “You must be busy, with all that at work and looking after Samson... a lot on your plate…”

“A little, but I have people to help, too. I can’t take all the credit.”

I smiled. “I’ll find him another yard, get out of your hair as soon as I’m back in action enough to sort something out.”

She tickled his nose, but her eyes were on mine. “Won’t exactly have to look hard,” she giggled.

I stared at her. “Sorry?”

She looked at me so strangely, as though I’d taken some kind of knock to the head. “Woolhope…” she said. “Surely he’ll be going back to Woolhope? Eventually, I mean, he can stay here as long as you want.”

I took a breath. Prepared myself to say it. “The yard’s been repossessed. Up for sale.” It still pained. “He won’t be going back there.”

She looked confused, properly, seriously confused. And then a smile crept across her face. “You don’t know, do you? Fucking hell, you genuinely don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“It’s a great place, by the way, loads of potential. I see why you wanted it so much, I see why it was your dream.” She sighed, but she was grinning. “Shit, I really shouldn’t say. I really shouldn’t.”

I shook my head. “Sorry? I don’t…” And then it dawned. Of course it did.

But I daren’t even.

“Carl,” I said, and I was already looking around for him. “Are you telling me Carl bought the yard?” And I knew. Of course he did. Of course he bought the yard. “My God… oh my God…”

I was reeling. Part euphoric, part giddy at the thought, part scared, overwhelmed. Angry that he’d done it.

But so grateful I could hardly take a breath.

I wheeled myself back towards the car, my fingers tingling and my heart pounding, but Verity jumped in front of me. “Wait,” she said. “It wasn’t…”

“What?” I said. “Is it mine, or not? I just don’t…” I took a breath. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do…”

“Oh, it’s yours,” she said, and her eyes were bright and happy. “Only it wasn’t Carl who bought it for you. It was Dad.”

Life is so weird.

So good and so bad all at once.

Verity was right about the yard. It was mine. Signed, sealed, and delivered.