You, Me and Him (25 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Clarky, Mrs B and I walk into the steamy swimming pool area and take our seats in the audience. Rows of blue plastic chairs edge the pool. The seating area is filling up. I wave to Mr Phipps who is seated at the front. ‘Is that the nice headmaster?’ Mrs B asks.

Four children line up on their starting boxes. They’re divided into ‘houses’ that are all named after fruits. George belongs to Prickly Pear house. They are one of the best. He said they’d chosen him because it didn’t matter if they had one lame duck in the team. Currently they are in second position, following closely behind the Pink Grapefruits.

‘Hi, Mum! Hi, Daddog! Mrs B!’ George waves as he holds his nose tightly and dive-bombs into the turquoise pool.

Ms Miles has to get him out. It’s odd seeing her in a tracksuit and sweater. She looks less severe but I am reminded of her strictness when she says, ‘It’s not your race, George, you’re a Prickly Pear, NOT a Wild Strawberry.’

I hear another whistle, this time even louder. George is running around the edge of the pool in his black trunks that slide halfway down his bottom. He’s making his way over to us. ‘Where’s Dad?’ he asks. ‘He promised he’d come.’

‘George, you have to behave otherwise you’ll be disqualified, darling. Your father will be here any minute, all you need to do is think about your race.’

‘That’s right, George. Finn’s a busy man but he will be here,’ Mrs B confirms adamantly.

Clarky laughs quietly with a shake of his head. He knows the loaded implication behind that remark.

‘Concentrate now,’ Mrs B instructs. ‘Don’t watch us.’ George darts off.

Ms Miles drags him back to the other Prickly Pears who are sitting on the bench behind the diving boards.

The first breaststroke race starts. I hear a door open. It’s not Finn. Come on. Why do you have to cut it so fine? The traffic can’t be that bad at this time of day. ‘Stop fidgeting,’ Mrs B says, ‘he’ll be here.’

It’s the backstroke race for the older boys now. A Cooking Apple swims wonkily into the other lane and hits a Prickly Pear by mistake. I can’t sit still. I can see George constantly looking towards the door, waiting for Finn to walk through it. I can’t bear it. Finn promised me he wouldn’t let us down. Promised. I hate him.

Finally it’s George’s first race: the front crawl.

The whistle goes off and George is still standing on his box, waiting for his dad. I am beside myself. ‘Go on, George!’ Clarky shouts. But he’s disqualified for delaying too long. The scores are updated. The Prickly Pears are still second but if George hadn’t been disqualified and lost them five points they would be in the lead.

The Prickly Pears huddle in a circle. ‘Team talk,’ Jason, their captain, says. George tries to enter the circle. I watch as he is pushed away. ‘You’re a loser. We never wanted you on our side. L.O.S.E.R’, Jason spells out. George sits on his own at the end of the bench. His team is understandably furious but why do they have to be so mean with it? I wish George wasn’t on Jason’s team. I thought the school had a policy of keeping them apart?

I ring Finn again. There’s no answer. Where are you? George has one more race. He won’t swim unless his father is watching. Then I have an idea. ‘What are you doing?’ Clarky asks as I struggle to push my way over to the Prickly Pears.

‘Mrs Jammie Dodger says you’ve got to win it,’ I tell George. ‘She’s so sorry not to see your race but she’s with you all the way. You just swim your heart out, that’s what she said.’

‘Dad’s not coming?’

‘No, darling. Will you swim for me, your old mum? And Mrs B?’

‘And Daddog?’

‘Yes, for Daddog too.’

It’s the final race. Everything depends on it. It’s still between the Prickly Pears and the Pink Grapefruits. The team are asking the teachers if they can swap Julian for George. ‘NO!’ Clarky and I shout out. ‘Let George swim!’

*

The referee takes us through the scores for the final time. If George wins, the Prickly Pears win by a point.

‘In lane one, the Wild Strawberries.’ The parents clap. ‘Come on, Steven, you can do it,’ shouts his father. Steven waves. He’s wearing red trunks. ‘In lane two, the Cooking Apples!’ There’s a chubby boy with blond hair lifting up his chubby arms.

A door opens. Please let it be Finn. ‘He’s my best friend,’ Eliot tells the dinner lady as he is manoeuvred to the front to watch. They sit on the other side of the pool, directly opposite us. I’m too flustered even to smile at Eliot. I wonder why Aggie isn’t here? At least his arrival is delaying the start. HURRY UP, Finn.

The referee resumes his role. ‘In lane three we have the Pink Grapefruits.’ There’s more shouting and cheering from each team. ‘And finally, in lane four, the Prickly Pears.’

‘Come on, George,’ I shout. ‘You can do it!’

‘Go, George!’ shouts Eliot who starts to clap.

‘Come on, my boy!’ Clarky shouts.

‘Your boy?’ Mrs B says, her tone as sharp as acid.

He rolls his eyes. ‘You know what I mean.’

George is so nervous he falls into the water because he’s waving too hard at Eliot. I put my head in my hands, hardly daring to look up again. The rest of the team shout and scream at him. The referee blows his whistle. I can hear Ms Miles saying he should be disqualified for fooling around. Dear God, please don’t disqualify him. Don’t give him penalty points either. The entire room is quiet as we wait for the decision. Mr Phipps stands up and says, ‘Let George have another go! Ms Miles, sit down!’ Everyone claps as George jumps out of the pool and stands on his box again.

He is the only boy wearing a swimming cap. It’s the one with a frog on it that Mrs B gave him.

I am so nervous as I watch the referee putting the whistle closer to his lips. The boys look so serious, as if they are competing in the Olympics. ‘On your marks, get set …’

BLAST OFF! ‘GO, GEORGE!’ Clarky, Mrs B, Eliot and I shout.

The children jump in holding their noses and then flip over to start their backstroke. We watch in silence. You could hear a pin drop.

‘COME ON, GEORGE!’ shout the Prickly Pears from the bench line. ‘He’s not bad,’ says Jason.

‘He’s good,’ Clarky says calmly, watching George’s legs and arms moving effortlessly through the water. Where is Finn? Why can’t I ever count on him?

George is currently in second place behind the Pink Grapefruits but it’s close. ‘He’s bloody good,’ Clarky now says with amazement.

‘Thought you didn’t swear,’ I mutter. ‘That’s a pound in the jam jar.’

‘I’m feeling the pressure.’

I am muttering instructions under my breath. ‘That’s right … kick, kick. Go, George!’ For the first time in her life Mrs B is quiet.

George is creeping up on the Pink Grapefruit as they reach the end of the first length. He flips over and kicks his feet against the edge of the pool, giving himself a head start on the last length. Clarky is jumping up and down now. ‘COME ON, GEORGE.’ He grabs my hand. The Pink Grapefruit is catching up and has overtaken. ‘FASTER, GEORGE,’ Eliot’s shouting. ‘He’s my best friend,’ he tells the dinner lady again.

They are level pegging. ‘GO!’ Clarky and I now screech. They both touch the end of the pool. It looks like it’s a draw.

We wait to hear the results. ‘In first position …’

Clarky and I stand poised, clutching each other’s hand.

‘George Greenwood, the Prickly Pears!’

Clarky and I scream. Mr Phipps claps and looks over to me. The Prickly Pears are thumping George on the back in triumph. Even Jason looks pleased and shakes his hand. The dinner lady pushes Eliot over to George and his team. I can see Eliot’s round glasses are misted over with steam.

‘He’s a winner!’ I’m crying at my son’s Sports Day, I am so overwhelmed. Mrs B runs over to George to congratulate him. I turn to Clarky and kiss him on the lips. ‘He did it!’ We cling to each other. He holds my face between his hands and kisses me back. I throw my arms around him again.

‘DAD! I did it!’ George calls.

‘You did it,’ Finn repeats. ‘I’m so proud of you, George.’

Finn’s here? Clarky and I move apart quickly. Finn’s sleeves are rolled up, his tie loose, dark jacket slung over his shoulder. He walks towards us. I’m watching him almost as if it were slow motion. He stands in front of us but before I can say anything, with one deft punch he hits Clarky in the middle of his face. ‘I should have done that a long time ago,’ Finn says, relief flooding his voice. Parents and children gasp in horror, as if on a movie set where something inexplicable has happened. Clarky staggers back into one of the plastic chairs but manages not to fall over. His nose is bleeding.

‘Finn, stop! What are you doing? You turn up late and then you have the nerve to attack Clarky?’

‘
I
have the nerve to attack Clarky when you’ve both been having an affair? Give me a break!’

‘An affair?’ I shout.

There are more gasps.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. An affair?’ I repeat.

‘So you and Clarky were playing Scrabble just then?’

‘George won the race. I was overexcited. I’d have kissed Kermit the Frog if he’d been next to me.’

‘Thanks,’ Clarky mutters.

‘Why is Dad fighting?’ I hear George whimper. ‘Why is Dad hitting Daddog?’ Mrs B shields his eyes. The referee blows his whistle. ‘Everyone, outside,’ he shouts. Ms Miles is ushering all the children towards the changing room area, flapping her hands wildly. Mr Phipps follows, keeping everyone calm. ‘Out, now.’ The parents walk out slowly, excited by the drama.

‘Is that your dad?’ one of the children asks. ‘He’s cool!’

Clarky straightens up but Finn pushes him back again and this time he falls heavily to the ground, knocking over more chairs. ‘All I was doing was supporting George in the race.’

‘And getting off with my wife!’

‘It wasn’t a proper kiss! Besides you should have been here, Finn.’

Parents stall at the exit. They suddenly have the shuffle syndrome: very painful feet that can’t move at speed.

‘I should have been. Are you going to tell her or shall I?’ Finn asks Clarky.

‘Tell her what? That you’re unreliable, you only think about yourself?’

‘You know, you little shit.’ Finn stands over him. ‘You’ve been lying to me.’ He hits him again, hard in the jaw.

‘Finn, leave him alone, please!’

‘Do you think I’m a complete idiot? You two have been having an affair all this time, haven’t you? All those late-night visits and phone calls and there’s me still believing you’re “just friends”. Have you slept together?’

‘Finn! Please can we sort this out at home?’

But he won’t move. He looks around the empty pool. ‘I’m not late.’

‘But Clarky told you it was at three.’

Finn looks at him. ‘Do you want to set her straight or shall I?’

Clarky wipes the blood from his nose. He shakes his head.

I turn to him. ‘What? You lied?’

‘I knew there was something about him I didn’t trust!’ Mrs B says with triumph.

‘I don’t know what I was doing, J, what I was thinking.’

Finn laughs scornfully. ‘All you’ve ever wanted to do is to split us up. There always were three of us in this marriage.’ He turns to me. ‘You, me and him.’

‘You don’t deserve her.’ Clarky stands up with renewed strength.

‘Don’t you dare tell me what I do or don’t deserve.’ Finn pushes him towards the pool edge.

‘She’s too good for you,’ Clarky says, pressing Finn against the diving board and hitting him hard in the stomach.

‘STOP IT!’ I shout. ‘BOTH OF YOU.’ Clarky turns to leave but Finn grabs him from behind, throws him forward, pushing with all his strength, and with one final heave Clarky is thrown into the water.

My husband walks over to me then. Tell me this is a horrible dream? ‘Nothing happened, Finn.’

He shakes his head crossly. ‘That’s what you’ve said for years. The least you can do is give me some kind of explanation. You owe me that much. I’ve respected your friendship but I won’t have him hanging around us any longer, I can’t do it. Have you slept with him?’

‘No.’

‘If you’re lying to me …’

‘I’m not lying.’

Clarky clambers out of the pool, dripping water in front of us. ‘Josie, tell him the truth.’

The colour drains from Finn’s face. ‘What?’

‘We slept together, Finn,’ he says. ‘It was years ago. Ask Josie about that night in Venice. We’ve never talked about it, but it’s clearly time we all did.’

Everything stands still. I feel numb.

‘Is that true?’ There is this terrible hurt in Finn’s eyes; I have ruined everything that is sacred to him. He looks like he did as a young boy watching his own parents’ marriage dissolve in front of his eyes.

‘We were only eighteen,’ I call after him. ‘It was one night, that’s all. Don’t go!’

He stops but doesn’t turn round to face us. ‘I can’t believe this. You’ve lied to me all this time. What else have you two lied about? You deserve each other. Good luck to you.’

‘Finn!’ I call out desperately.

He turns round and walks back to me. ‘I wanted to see George win.’ His eyes are watering now. ‘He’s our boy, not Clarky’s. He’s my son. It was my race to watch. It’s
our
family.’

‘I know.’ I reach out to try and touch him but he moves away from me again. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Have I been a fool all these years? Have you and Clarky been in love all this time, right under my nose? I’ll never forgive you, I can’t.’

‘No, Finn …’ I start to cry. ‘It’s just …’

‘I am here, you know,’ says a dark shamed voice.

‘Go away, Clarky. Haven’t you done enough damage?’ He looks back at me, waiting.

The smell of chlorine is suffocating. ‘Finn …’ I stagger forward, clutching my stomach. I know it’s happening. There’s nothing I can do to stop it. This is it.

‘Josie?’ Finn rushes towards me.

‘Are you all right, J?’ Clarky asks, his voice heavy with guilt. Finn pushes him aside, condemned into irrelevance.

‘Finn. Finn …’ I groan, grabbing his arm. The pain owns me; it has claimed my body. ‘Get me to the hospital. NOW.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Ten days later

I’m at my parents’ home, sitting on the kitchen window seat that looks out over the fields. I had a baby girl, but you knew that. She’s beautiful with dark hair like Finn’s. We decided to call her Scarlett Emily. The last time Finn and I were here, we’d conceived our baby. Look at us now.

After Scarlett was born Finn had said he thought it best if I went to my mother’s instead of her coming to London as originally planned. Of course we both knew that what he was really saying was he needed time away from me. I know he found it a hard decision, especially when I said I didn’t want to leave him. In his eyes I could see how torn he was between not wanting to be parted from us, but at the same time wondering how he could pick up the pieces as if nothing had happened?

Finn is in contact, daily, but we keep it strictly to Scarlett and George news. When I tried to tell him that there’s been no affair, that it was that one night long ago, he shut down instantly, like a light switching off. ‘Why should I believe anything you say?’ was the bleak reply.

Ed has sent flowers. Gwen sent me a card from her and Dicky, saying she was sorry she hadn’t had time to see the baby yet and hoped the birth wasn’t too hideous? I threw it in the bin. Even Ruby sent me flowers and a message. ‘Gem Communications is not the same without you! Natalie and I rattle round the office. Come back as soon as you can. Love to the sprog.
Ciao, Bella
.’ I’d laughed at that.

Tiana calls me regularly. She’s found a new job teaching Spanish to businessmen. ‘So many handsome single men in hot suits – and now I’m engaged! The longer that ring is on my finger, the more desirable I become.’ But all she really wants to know about is Finn.

‘I’m not sure he wants me back,’ I told her during one call.

‘He does. Give him time.’

‘Have you spoken to him?’

‘Christo has. He says Finn looks awful. He misses you and Scarlett. Hates not seeing you.’

‘It doesn’t have to be like that. We’re right here. He could take paternity leave.’

‘He’s not ready. You know Finn, he’s proud.’

‘Proud? He’s as stubborn as hell.’

‘He can’t carry on as if nothing’s happened. He’s complicated like that.’

‘You don’t need to tell me. Tiana, we need to be together. We need to talk otherwise how are we going to work this out? Forget about me, he needs to see his daughter. How can he not want to hold her? And then there’s George who can’t understand it. He believes it’s his fault. He doesn’t say it, but I know that’s what he thinks.’

‘I know. You’ll sort this out, Josie, because you have to. You and Finn are my foundation. Without you two, everything and everyone falls apart.’

*

Mum and Dad are looking after the baby and me. And Rocky. And George. Their house is a haven. They bought it when it was no more than a run-down barn, an ugly-looking building, large and grey with little charm, but I could see that the surrounding land and views were tempting. Initially I’d thought they were mad because it was so much work, but they love projects. They renovated it and turned it into a country house. The kitchen is my favourite room. It’s huge with a large oak table running down the middle. Half the room is painted a clotted cream colour. The other half, the cooking area, is a rustic orange. It’s full of pretty things that I’d like to take home. There’s an Aga and copper saucepans, mugs with flowers on them, large goblets for wine and small coloured glasses for sherry. Now I look out on to the downs beyond the sweeping lawn which Mum and Dad keep immaculate. I can see the tree house which Dad made for George, and Rowan the horse chomping at the grass. This is my favourite place to sit with a drink as I listen to stories of village fairs and the wedding marquees Mum has decorated, and there are always a few bed and breakfast tales to tell as well.

‘How’s the B & B going?’ I ask her. Mum’s chopping some carrots and parsnips for soup. Scarlett is finally asleep in her Moses basket. Mum pushed her outside to let her get some fresh air. ‘Busy. I’m glad to have this time off.’

‘I wouldn’t call George, Scarlett and me time off!’ George and my father are playing in the tree house. ‘Mum …’

‘Do you remember that time we had a Japanese couple staying and you helped with the breakfast? We put a melon out, didn’t we, thinking they’d have one slice each, plenty for us later, but they ate the entire thing, even the skin! Wasn’t that extraordinary? I’m sure they got indigestion.’

‘And I remember that young man who stank of aftershave, it was everywhere in the house.’

‘Oh, yes, I remember too. I had to air the room for weeks.’

‘Mum?’

She’s stirring the soup. ‘Yes?’

‘Have you and Dad ever gone through a difficult time?’

She comes and sits with me. ‘All marriages go through rocky patches and if people say they don’t, then they’re lying!’ She flicks a hand through her hair. ‘Every now and then I wonder what would have happened if I had married that German, Klaus, who taught me to fly an aeroplane. But we’ve always talked, your father and I, and I know he is the only person I’d really want to be with. He makes me happy.’

I am drawn to look at her gold wedding ring, out of shape now and looking battered by time, but still firmly on her finger, an old friend.

‘Do you think Finn will trust me again? I mean, it’s not as if I’ve committed a terrible crime. It wasn’t adultery. Surely marriages go through a lot worse? You hear all kinds of horrible stories in the newspapers … wives poisoning their husbands …’ Mum smiles at that. ‘Or men going through mid-life crises and leaving their wives for women half their age,’ I continue. ‘My only fault was I didn’t tell him about Clarky.’

‘Well, actually, you lied,’ Mum can’t help adding.

‘And you’ve never lied?’

‘To your father?’

‘Yes.’

‘No, not really.’

‘Oh, come on, Mum! Never?’ I stammer incredulously.

‘I might have told the odd fib, you know … that I didn’t leave the iron on all night, or I didn’t drop the lasagne on the floor and then scoop it back into the dish.’

‘Ugh! Did you do that?’

She laughs. ‘At the dinner party I gave when we were first married.’ She hushes her voice. ‘Don’t tell him!’

‘Dad would find it funny now. Finn’s hardly the perfect husband either,’ I say.

‘I know,’ she reiterates. ‘Goodness, nobody’s perfect.’

‘Sometimes I feel I bring George up on my own. Like a single mum.’

‘I understand that.’

‘And I can’t see how it will ever change.’

‘He’ll never completely change, darling. You knew the type of man Finn was before you married him. He’s ambitious and I’m sure he’ll be the most successful Consultant, but that will demand more of his time too.’

‘I know, but you can see it from my point of view, can’t you?’

‘Of course,’ she answers reassuringly.

‘Do you think he’ll trust me again?’ I ask once more.

‘Yes, I’m sure he will.’ She presses her lips together in thought. ‘I’ll always remember the sermon that was given at my wedding. The vicar said that when you love someone you create a secret garden with walls around it, and only you two have the key. You play; you have a lovely time in this garden. When you get married you have children, more responsibilities, and the garden is neglected. Unless you go back to nurture it, it will soon be overgrown with weeds. Start to look like a terrible jungle. Whatever goes on outside the wall, whether it’s work or health, whatever it is, you need to go back to that garden from time to time and find each other again. Remember what it was first like to
be
with Finn. Remember why you fell in love with him.’

I remember that initial glimpse of him at Momo’s. I had never seen anyone so beautiful. It was like a million lights going off in my head.

She returns to the soup which has started to boil. ‘Finn needs to do the same too. And where does Clarky fit into all of this?’ she says tentatively, taking the pan off the heat.

I still feel angry with him. He’s the reason Finn and I aren’t together now. If he hadn’t lied none of this would have happened, I tell Mum.

‘Josie, I don’t think that’s altogether right. If Justin hadn’t said anything you and Finn would have soldiered on. Clarky’s probably made you see what’s missing from your marriage, that there are things you and Finn need to talk about. In a funny way, this probably needed to happen.’

Listening to Mum, I feel angry but guilty too. Subconsciously I’ve held Clarky back from building his own life. Who doesn’t want someone who is always there for them, like a security blanket? I have used him. ‘I haven’t spoken to him since George’s Sports Day. I think we need some time apart,’ I tell her.

‘When you two were growing up you were inseparable, like twins. Your father and I wondered if you’d ever get together.’

‘And?’

‘The thing is, I take the old-fashioned view. If you know someone so well before you’ve even married, well, it’s almost like starting the journey at the end. What do you have to discover about one another along the way? I only knew your dad for a couple of months before we got engaged. I like Clarky but it can’t be easy for Finn when another man is always around. It’s time Justin found himself a good woman who’s not you.’

‘He has, I just hope I haven’t wrecked it for him. You’re right,’ I tell her. ‘My behaviour these last few months, well, it’s left a lot to be desired. It’s not only Finn who needs to change. It’s me as well.’

*

‘’Night, George.’

‘Where’s Dad? Who’s going to switch my brain off?’

‘I can.’

He pushes my hand away from his head irritably. ‘I want Mrs Jammie Dodger.’

‘Your father’s on-call this weekend.’

‘Are you and Dad fighting?’

‘No.’

‘Dad hates Clarky.’

‘No. It’s complicated, George, but I promise you there will be no more fights.’

I do an impersonation of Mrs Jammie Dodger. ‘You can’t do it,’ he protests. ‘It’s Sunday tomorrow. Who’s going to cook breakfast with me?’

‘I’m sure Grandpa will help.’

‘I WANT MRS JAMMIE DODGER!’ He starts to cry, hitting his pillow hard. ‘I want Dad. Why isn’t he here?’

Downstairs, I ring Finn. ‘He misses you. We all do,’ I say, leaving a message on his voicemail.

*

I wake up early the following morning. I didn’t sleep at all because I can’t stop thinking about what Mum said to me. Sunlight streams through the bedroom window. The birds are singing. I can hear Harvey the parrot already squawking in his cage, and Rocky and Holly, Mum’s rescue sheep dog, are barking for their breakfast. I can smell Dad’s coffee and toast. He’s an early riser. When Mum’s not in the house he gets up at five. I pull back the curtains, lift Scarlett from her cot. Her eyes are closed; her little hands move slowly and gracefully in front of her as if she is trying to feel her way now she is in my arms. Her eyes flicker at the noise, shutting themselves even more tightly. It must be strange being cocooned in warm dark liquid for nine months, where all you can hear is a reassuring heartbeat, and then being exposed to an environment of noise and light where there’s no liquid, just air.

She smells so perfect, the crown of her head soft and vulnerable. I can’t believe this little person is mine.

I look out of the window and see George in the field with Mum. She’s trying, in vain, to show him how to tack up Rowan. If we leave him to do it on his own, he hurls the saddle onto Rowan and takes off at a gallop, clinging on desperately. This is why Finn hates the idea of him jumping. ‘It’s an accident waiting to happen,’ he says.

I watch Mum handing him the apples. They get on so well because they have Rowan in common. Mum gave him a grooming kit last Christmas with his name engraved on it. George isn’t that hot at grooming Rowan, might do one side very well and then get bored and leave the other, but he treasures the present like a box of gold. Inside is a body brush, dandy brush, mane comb and hoof oil. Mum didn’t let him have the hoof pick. It’s the one thing he cleans and sorts out immaculately. Finn can’t understand why he can tidy the box so well but not his bedroom.

After I’ve changed nappies, dressed and fed Scarlett, I join them outside with the pram. ‘You look much better,’ Mum says as I approach the fence and lean against it. I’m still in my maternity jeans and a bright red baggy jumper. I leave the pram in the shade of a tree. Tentatively I open the gate and walk up to them. I attempt to stroke Rowan but his nostrils flare and his ears prick back. The little shit looks like he wants to bite me so I back off. I think of Finn. He would be laughing by now. It’s funny the little things you miss about someone when they’re not around.

George laughs instead. ‘He doesn’t like you, Mum,’ he kindly points out.

‘That’s only because I don’t feed him chocolates.’

Mum tells me horses respond to the tone of your voice and body language. ‘They’re intuitive,’ she says. ‘Rowan doesn’t like you because he knows you don’t like him.’

‘Can I get on him now?’ George is jumping up and down on the spot, his long gangly legs in a pair of jodhpurs. He strokes Rowan impatiently, leans his head against his mane, kisses him and pats his coat. Rowan stands proudly as he digs one hoof into the ground. George lets go of his bridle and rushes over to me. ‘Mum!’ he wraps his arms around my back and clings on tightly. ‘Can I jump now?’

I look at the small red and white jumps. ‘OK, but Granny and I are going to watch.’ He hugs me even more tightly. I kiss the top of his head. ‘Love you! Now put on your hat.’

‘No.’

‘Yes!’ I grab him affectionately. ‘Or I’ll put it on for you. There.’ I tie the strap underneath his chin. ‘Be careful. No showing off. Just do one jump first and see how it goes.’

George squints. ‘The jumps aren’t very high.’

‘They are,’ Mum says as she joins me. ‘I lowered them right down,’ she murmurs. ‘Thought it was better to put them up myself at a safe level.’

I smile. The jumps are so small Rowan barely needs to lift his legs off the ground.

Mum and I watch George mounting up and then trotting to the first jump. Rowan stops, thinks about it and then decides to attempt it. My son is still on the horse, but instead of holding the reins he is clutching the pony’s mane. We clap our hands. ‘Well done!’ I call out. ‘Take hold of the reins!’