Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage by Cathy Woodman Page A

can see me blushing, but I’m reassured by the fact that the detail is poor. She looks as if she’s been airbrushed – I can’t see the blemish on her chin that she acquired on a cross-country course when she came to grief as we did a pairs class on our ponies.
    â€˜I’m not sure now. Tall, outdoorsy, blue eyes, brown hair. Must like horses.’ I smile. ‘I’m getting carried away. I don’t need a man. I need to sort out my finances first.’
    â€˜First? So there is hope then?’
    â€˜Maybe a little,’ I admit.
    â€˜How is that going?’ Sarah asks. ‘Have you managed to reduce the amount you owe?’
    â€˜Hardly.’ I shrug. ‘Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning in debt.’
    â€˜I wish you’d accept a loan from us.’
    â€˜I couldn’t. It’s very kind of you, but I’m not going to replace one loan with another, and my dad’s always told me never to borrow from friends.’
    I change the subject to a less painful, less controversial topic. ‘How was your scan the other day?’ I don’t really need to ask because I saw the pics on Facebook, but I want to show Sarah that I’ve been thinking of her. Her face lights up as she gives me an update on the baby’s health and how many times she feels it – I should say ‘her’, because we know she’s a girl from the scan – kick in a day. She talks about how hard it is to choose the right antenatal and parenting classes, and the difficulties of choosing a suitable name without offending anyone. She’s going to be a fantastic mum. I love to see how happy she is. It makes me happy too.
    I hear David calling her in the background.
    â€˜I’d better go,’ she says. ‘Keep in touch.’
    â€˜Will do.’ I sign off and stare out of my bedroom window, where Rafa is having a moment, cantering and bucking around the paddock in the cool of the evening.
    I can’t wait to ride out with Robbie at the weekend. I’d love to have time to chat and get to know him better, whether or not it leads to anything else. I’ll be spending a lot of time with the Saltertons and their horses this spring. I just hope the new mare behaves herself when it’s her turn to be shod.

Chapter Five
Wet Shirts and Hidden Depths
    It’s Sunday morning and I could sleep for hours. I’m physically exhausted from working from eight in the morning to six or seven at night, including Good Friday and most of Saturday. It turns out that Mel has let his business slide, postponing visits until the horses’ shoes are almost falling off, and he’s expecting me to get it back on track. I’m not complaining, though. I’m loving the challenge and the pretence of being my own boss.
    However, I’m already wondering how long I’ll be needed here. Mel was in hospital for five days. He came home with painkillers and a string of physio appointments, and determined to be walking without sticks within three weeks. It sounds selfish, but I’m hoping he doesn’t rush back too soon.
    I drag myself out of bed and peer out between the curtains. Rafa is waiting at the gate. I throw on some clothes and head downstairs. I’ve missed breakfast with the family. Louise is in the kitchen, closing the zip on a cool-bag.
    â€˜Morning, Flick. We’re off to see friends today. They have a caravan at Talysands and we’re going to have an Easter egg hunt on the beach.’ She smiles. ‘I can’t wait.’
    â€˜Have a lovely day.’
    â€˜I’m hoping that it’ll take Mel’s mind off the after-effects of his op,’ she goes on. ‘Anyway, what about you? Have you any plans?’
    â€˜I’m going for a hack with Robbie.’
    â€˜Oh …?’ Her voice rises and her eyebrows seem to hover in question, as if she’s waiting for me to tell her more. Her eyes glint with a hunter’s