other things – Matt and your love life, for example. A good horsewoman NEVER blames her horse.’
When we return to the yard, I untack Willow, throw on a light stable rug and put her away. I lean over the stable door to watch her settle as she munches on the hay in her net. Dark Star whickers at me and I give him a mint so he doesn’t feel left out.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ I tell the horses. I would normally add ‘bright and early’, but I doubt it somehow. ‘I’m going out with your vet.’ Willow doesn’t show any interest in this news, but I can hardly wait.
It seems like a long time, but eventually seven o’clock arrives, and as soon as the long hand hits the twelve on the clock on the church tower opposite the house, Matt appears on the doorstep, which is flattering. It suggests that he couldn’t wait to see me either.
I open the door before he has the chance to ring the bell.
‘You found it then. My house,’ I go on. I’m nervous – that’s why I’m wittering, but Matt doesn’t appear to mind. He’s standing on the step, eyeing the wonky door with curiosity.
‘I’ll have to duck when you ask me in later,’ he says, tipping his head to one side.
‘ If I ask you in.’
He looks me up and down. ‘You look amazing, as always.’
‘Thank you.’ My pulse trips into a faster rhythm and a hot flush creeps up my chest and neck. The combination of a low-cut tunic top, leggings and silver heels is the fourth ensemble I’ve tried on this evening.
He’s looking good too, dressed in a grey sweater with a white T-shirt underneath and blue jeans – designer, not the workmen’s jeans they wear at Overdown Farmers, the local agricultural merchants. He smells good too, of shower gel and mint, overlaid with a hint of antibiotic. He’s had his hair cut and his complexion has a healthy glow.
‘Have you been hitting the bottle?’ I say, still failing to engage my mouth and brain at the same time. ‘The tan,’ I add quickly when I realise he hasn’t a clue what I’m talking about. ‘I didn’t mean the other kind.’
‘I believe there are many varieties of bottle,’ he says, grinning. ‘I’ve been in the garden all day.’
‘Catching some rays?’
‘Mowing the lawn and trimming the hedges.’ Hehesitates. ‘I feel as if I should have been doing something far more exciting to impress you.’
‘I’m quite impressed that you’ve been gardening. I didn’t realise you were so domesticated.’ I duck back indoors. ‘Let me get my bag.’
When I return, I close the door behind me.
‘Don’t you lock up around here?’ Matt asks.
‘Um, I do usually, although my neighbour says I don’t need to, but right at this moment, I can’t find my keys.’ I check in my bag. ‘And I can’t remember where I’ve left them.’
‘You don’t want me to come in and help you look for them. I’d hate you to get burgled while we’re out.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ I say, wishing I didn’t look so dippy in front of Matt. ‘Let’s go.’ I pause. ‘Where are we going?’
‘I thought about Mr Rock’s to pick up fish and chips,’ he smiles, ‘but because I can remember what the food was like the last time I tried it and because I’d prefer it if you actually wanted to see me again after tonight, I’m going to whisk you away to a little place I know in the big city.’
‘In Exeter?’
‘All right, it isn’t that big when it comes to cities, but I know this restaurant on the quay where we can eat pizza and listen to some jazz, if you like that sort of thing,’ he adds anxiously.
‘It sounds great,’ I say.
Half an hour later we’re sitting outdoors near the quay with the water lapping gently against the side of the canal. Behind us, dug into the sandstone rock face, are the warehouses where the ships coming up fromthe coast used to unload or collect their wares of wool, tobacco and wine.
We eat pizza and drink cola and listen to a jazz quartet while talking about where
When we return to the yard, I untack Willow, throw on a light stable rug and put her away. I lean over the stable door to watch her settle as she munches on the hay in her net. Dark Star whickers at me and I give him a mint so he doesn’t feel left out.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ I tell the horses. I would normally add ‘bright and early’, but I doubt it somehow. ‘I’m going out with your vet.’ Willow doesn’t show any interest in this news, but I can hardly wait.
It seems like a long time, but eventually seven o’clock arrives, and as soon as the long hand hits the twelve on the clock on the church tower opposite the house, Matt appears on the doorstep, which is flattering. It suggests that he couldn’t wait to see me either.
I open the door before he has the chance to ring the bell.
‘You found it then. My house,’ I go on. I’m nervous – that’s why I’m wittering, but Matt doesn’t appear to mind. He’s standing on the step, eyeing the wonky door with curiosity.
‘I’ll have to duck when you ask me in later,’ he says, tipping his head to one side.
‘ If I ask you in.’
He looks me up and down. ‘You look amazing, as always.’
‘Thank you.’ My pulse trips into a faster rhythm and a hot flush creeps up my chest and neck. The combination of a low-cut tunic top, leggings and silver heels is the fourth ensemble I’ve tried on this evening.
He’s looking good too, dressed in a grey sweater with a white T-shirt underneath and blue jeans – designer, not the workmen’s jeans they wear at Overdown Farmers, the local agricultural merchants. He smells good too, of shower gel and mint, overlaid with a hint of antibiotic. He’s had his hair cut and his complexion has a healthy glow.
‘Have you been hitting the bottle?’ I say, still failing to engage my mouth and brain at the same time. ‘The tan,’ I add quickly when I realise he hasn’t a clue what I’m talking about. ‘I didn’t mean the other kind.’
‘I believe there are many varieties of bottle,’ he says, grinning. ‘I’ve been in the garden all day.’
‘Catching some rays?’
‘Mowing the lawn and trimming the hedges.’ Hehesitates. ‘I feel as if I should have been doing something far more exciting to impress you.’
‘I’m quite impressed that you’ve been gardening. I didn’t realise you were so domesticated.’ I duck back indoors. ‘Let me get my bag.’
When I return, I close the door behind me.
‘Don’t you lock up around here?’ Matt asks.
‘Um, I do usually, although my neighbour says I don’t need to, but right at this moment, I can’t find my keys.’ I check in my bag. ‘And I can’t remember where I’ve left them.’
‘You don’t want me to come in and help you look for them. I’d hate you to get burgled while we’re out.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ I say, wishing I didn’t look so dippy in front of Matt. ‘Let’s go.’ I pause. ‘Where are we going?’
‘I thought about Mr Rock’s to pick up fish and chips,’ he smiles, ‘but because I can remember what the food was like the last time I tried it and because I’d prefer it if you actually wanted to see me again after tonight, I’m going to whisk you away to a little place I know in the big city.’
‘In Exeter?’
‘All right, it isn’t that big when it comes to cities, but I know this restaurant on the quay where we can eat pizza and listen to some jazz, if you like that sort of thing,’ he adds anxiously.
‘It sounds great,’ I say.
Half an hour later we’re sitting outdoors near the quay with the water lapping gently against the side of the canal. Behind us, dug into the sandstone rock face, are the warehouses where the ships coming up fromthe coast used to unload or collect their wares of wool, tobacco and wine.
We eat pizza and drink cola and listen to a jazz quartet while talking about where
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