First Bitten: Chapter 11

“He wants us to what?”

“Muck out the stable.” Sol’s face breaks into a grin.

I like it when Sol smiles. It lights up everything around him and it’s almost, in a way, as if he’s smiling for me too.

I glance from his grinning face over the stable door and down at the waiting mess. There’s horse manure and dirty straw everywhere.

“Does Nathan always give you the shit jobs, pardon the pun, or is it just because I’m helping you out?”

Sol laughs heartily. He has one of those contagious sounding laughs. It almost makes me laugh too. Almost.

“Nah, Nate does his fair share,” he says. “Well more than that really. It’s just my turn, nothing whatsoever to do with you. You just lucked out is all when you offered your kind services.”

I made the fatal error of offering my help today when I heard over breakfast that Cal wasn’t coming in to work today because he’s sick. It was a half-hearted offer on my part I didn’t think Sol would take me up on. How wrong was I? And looking at all of this, I wish I’d kept my mouth shut.

Honor, seeing me, wanders over and pokes her head over the top of the stable door. “Morning, beautiful.” I stroke her face. She nudges my shoulder gently with her nose. She’s expecting food. I always bring something with me when I come to visit.

I’m just about to get her apple out my jacket pocket, when Sol asks, “Would you mind putting the girls out into the paddock while I get the wheelbarrow and pitchforks. Oh, and I’ll get you a pair of wellies,” he adds, looking down at my trainer clad feet.

“Sure,” I say.

“Cheers,” he replies, walking away.

I turn back to Honor, giving her my full attention. “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget.” I get the apple out of my pocket and hold it out in my palm for her to take. She gently takes it and begins happily munching away on it. I wipe the saliva gift she’s left on my hand onto the back of my jeans.

Hope, seeing her mother eating, trots over to me, worried she’s missing out. “Don’t worry, baby, I brought you one too.” I offer Hope her apple and she swipes it greedily from my hand. I smile.

I do smile now, occasionally, but not intentionally. I try and stop them if I know they’re coming, because for every smile that lasts a few seconds, I feel an hour’s worth of guilt. I don’t mean to feel happiness, just sometimes it creeps up on me without my realising.

I reach over to get Honor’s head collar off the hook beside the stable door and see Sol is still here. He’s standing at the end of the stable, casually leaning against it, watching me.

“Hi,” I say, uncomfortable. He doesn’t look embarrassed I’ve caught him staring, as I would.

“She really likes you, you know.” He nods his head forward.

“Honor?” I say, casting a glance in her direction.

“Mmm.” He nods again. “She’s funny about who she trusts, you know, with her having been badly treated ‘n’ all, but you she definitely likes.”

It’s nice to hear that Honor likes me, that she trusts me enough to like me. I’m just about to thank him for saying so, when he adds, “She’s a bit like Nathan in that respect.”

“What?” I ask confused, ignoring the fact he hasn’t once looked away from my face.

He pushes off the stable and stands up straight. “Picky about who they like.”

“Oh.” I scuff my trainer against the concrete path, looking down. He doesn’t need to remind me Nathan doesn’t like me. It’s a fact I’m already well aware of. Not that it matters either way.

“Nathan does like you,” he says as if reading my thoughts.

“Now I know you’re lying.” I give a little awkward laugh for effect.

“Don’t be so sure.”

I look up in time to catch sight of him disappearing down the side of the stable.

I stare after him for a moment, confused, feeling out of tune, like I’m missing out on something important.

Honor gives a sharp neigh, demanding my attention, bringing me back round. “Okay, girl, I’m all yours.” I slip her head collar on and fasten it up.

She’s eager to be out of the stable, so I keep hold of her by the collar and open the stable door. She’s out in a flash, pulling me along with her. I clip the lead to her head collar and start to jog with her out into the sunshine. Hope comes trotting out behind her mother, her tail high, looking proud and incredibly cute. I jog at Honor’s side to keep up with her and keep a watchful eye on Hope to make sure she doesn’t go wandering off.

I slow Honor down to a walk as we approach the paddock gate. I lift the latch, push the gate wide open and walk them both in. Closing the gate behind me, I put the latch back on, then slip Honor’s head collar off.

“Go have some fun.” I pat her affectionately on her back. She trots off, quickly picking up pace with Hope hot on her trail.

I come back out of the paddock, latch the gate behind me, and rest my arms upon it, watching Honor and Hope cantering around.

It’s been three weeks since Hope was born. After I got back to the house the night she was born, I went straight up to my room, climbed into bed and slept for seven hours straight, completely dream, well nightmare, free. That hadn’t happened since I’d arrived. When I woke, I felt slightly more normal than I had in a long time, so I got out of bed, showered, got dressed, and before I knew it my feet were taking me out of the house and I was heading straight for the stables.

The further away I walked from the house, and the closer to Honor and Hope I got, I started to feel a sense of calm washing over me. I liked the feeling.

I knew Nathan wasn’t in the house when I’d left. I also knew with certainty he would be at the stable when I arrived there. But I didn’t mind that I would see him. We’d got on okay the night before – well, really well for me and Nathan – and I thought things were actually going to start to get better between us.

I was wrong.

From the moment I got there he was just as frosty and cold toward me as ever, if not frostier. It was almost like the night before hadn’t happened. If it weren’t for Hope, I’d actually think I’d imagined us getting along.

And this is how things have continued ever since. I’m fine with it. I just accept it for what it is. Nathan will never like me, he’ll always resent my being here and the fact he felt he had to save my life that night, because of what it now means for him, and I get it, I really do.

So on Hope’s first day in the world, I hung out at the stables with them both, except for when the vet came to check Honor and Hope over. I went back to the house before he arrived, waited until he’d gone, then I went back to the stables. Mainly I was alone with the horses, as Nathan was out on the farm, working. I was happy with this arrangement. I was glad to be in company where I didn’t have to make pointless small talk with someone who hates me.

Then, when I went to bed that night, I found the same happened again. I slept right through. Not as long as the first night, but still I’d slept more in two days than I had over the last seven prior to meeting Honor and Hope. So, once again I got up, got dressed and headed out to see the horses. But this time I stopped by the kitchen to get some carrots to take with me.

Jack was in there making himself breakfast; him and Sol had returned home from their trip late the night before. I smelt the toast he was making and found I actually felt hungry. I managed a slice of toast and a cup of coffee. We sat together eating breakfast, making small talk and, before I knew it, I was talking to him about that night, the night that irrevocably changed my life. I didn’t plan on talking to Jack, or anyone, about it ever but once I started I couldn’t seem to stop. It was gushing out of me. I don’t know if Jack has magical powers of some sort because I couldn’t stop the words from flowing. And if I’m being honest, it was actually a relief to talk to someone.

I sat at the table with Jack for a long time, swinging through a range of emotions. He listened patiently. Then, when I’d said all I could and cried all the tears I had, he simply asked me, ‘What would I want Carrie to do if she were me?’

I paused for a long moment. I knew just exactly where he was heading with this. Still, I answered truthfully.

I said, ‘I’d want her to live her life. I’d want her to move on. I’d want her to be happy.’

Jack smiled lightly, squeezed my hand, gave me a knowing look and got up from the table taking our breakfast plates with him, leaving me to contemplate my own words.

So that’s what I’m trying to do. I’m trying to move forward. I’m trying to make the best with what I have left.

It’s not easy.

I have good days, I have bad days, and I have really, really bad days, but now I have someone to talk to on those bad days. It helps some.

I’ll never get over Carrie’s death. I’ll always know I’m to blame, irrespective of how many times Jack tells me I’m not, but I will at some point learn to live with it.

Leaving Honor and Hope to enjoy their time in the paddock, I make my way back to the stable. I meet Sol on his way back pushing along the wheelbarrow that is carrying a couple of pitchforks and spades. He sets the wheelbarrow down outside the stable door.

“Smallest size I could find was a nine,” he says, pulling a pair of dark green wellies out of the wheelbarrow and holding them up, one in each hand. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had to cater for a woman. What size are you?”

“A five.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry they’ll be fine,” I say kindly. I take them from him, sit down on the path and pull my trainers off. I put my feet in the wellies. They’re massive. I could probably fit two feet in one.

Awkwardly, I get up to my feet. I try taking a step forward in them. It’s like walking in flippers. This is going to be interesting.

“I look like an idiot,” I grimace.

“Yeah, you do a bit.” Sol meets my eyes and laughs. I allow myself a smile. Sol’s green eyes sparkle as the sunlight catches them. His eyes are not as striking as Nathan’s, but they are nice nonetheless. And when Sol looks at me, I know he’s looking at me, not through me as Nathan does. It matters. To be seen means a lot now I’m invisible to the rest of the world.

Sol winks cheekily at me, picks the wheelbarrow back up and pushes it inside the stable. He sets it down just to the side of the door and unloads the pitchforks and shovels, leaning them up against the wall.

He hands me a pair of gloves and a pitch fork.

“Thanks.” I give him a begrudging look.

“Aw, stop moaning and get on with it, woman!” he chuckles good-naturedly, nudging me with his elbow. I nudge him back. His face breaks into a grin. I laugh. Guilt stabs me hard in the chest. I stop laughing.

“Guess we better get on with this,” I say my mood instantly dropping.

If he notices my abrupt change, he doesn’t say anything and I appreciate it. He just gives me a nod of agreement, puts his gloves on, picks his pitchfork up and starts working.

Sol is a good friend to me, one I don’t deserve or should be allowed to even have, but I’m really not sure how to stop him from being my friend or if I even really want to.

Holding the pitchfork under my arm, I put my gloves on, and joining Sol, I dig into the soiled straw and start moving it into the wheelbarrow.

It’s unreal how much mess one horse and a foal can make in a day. We fill the wheelbarrow in no time and it still looks like we haven’t even made a dent. Sol takes the wheelbarrow away to empty it onto the manure pile around the back of the stable that Jack uses for his gardening, then comes back and we start filling it up again.

Sol starts to talk as we continue working, easing off the silence. Normally he talks and I listen but, this time, I find myself joining in, asking him questions mainly about Nathan, curiosity finally getting the better of me because I know nothing about him – he never gives anything away about himself. Sol and Jack, on the other hand, are open books. I already know tons of stuff about them.

He tells me Nathan was in the army. That doesn’t surprise me. It definitely goes some way to explaining why he’s so regimented and good at being a hardass.

Sol also tells me Nathan left the army three years ago and that he served in Iraq. He says he’s a hero. Apparently Nathan saved some people’s lives while on duty in a northern Iraqi town called Shirqat after a suicide bomber detonated his explosive vest at a busy local market.

It seems Nathan makes a habit of going around saving people’s lives.

It’s obvious from the way Sol talks, how proud he is of Nathan and how much he looks up to him. It sets off a longing in my chest for Carrie which I quickly seal off.

Sol stabs his pitch fork into the straw, taking a break. He lifts his arms above his head, stretching his long, lean body upwards. His T-shirt rides up, revealing an incredibly toned stomach. I look up at his face. Sol is a really good looking guy and he has a charming manner about him. I bet he does well with the ladies.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” I ask him.

I catch the look of surprise in his eyes before it quickly clears and I realise how much of an intrusive question that may have been, especially just asking out of the blue like that.

“Sorry,” I say, abashed, pressing my lips into an awkward line.

He drops his arm back down to his sides. “Don’t be.” He smiles. “And no, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Oh,” I say, not expecting that to be the case.

“You seem surprised.” He laughs but I can tell it’s forced.

“No, I’m not surprised. I mean, well, I just got the impression you would have … not that it’s a bad thing to be single, because it’s not, obviously.” Sol’s looking at me, eyebrows raised, eyes assessing me intently. I feel all hot and flustered. “But anyway, I’m sure you’ll have a girlfriend soon,” I add pointlessly at the end.

“I’m fine with it.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Just keeping my options open.”

“Best thing to do,” I say awkwardly. “You don’t want to get tied down too young.” I rub my nose. “What about Nathan? Does he have a girlfriend?” I regret the words the instant they leave my mouth. All I wanted to do was change the subject and that was the best I could come up with?

Sol picks his pitchfork up. Looking away from me, he answers, “Not that I know of,” his tone suddenly flat.

“And Cal?” I ask, just so he doesn’t think I’m only interested in his and Nathan’s private life, which of course I’m not. Why would I be?

“Married to Erin. She’s pregnant. I’m gonna be an uncle soon.” He turns looking at me, a smile lifting his lips. He drops the contents of his pitchfork into the wheelbarrow.

Now my curiosity’s piqued. “Is Erin one of your kind?” I ask him.

He stands his pitch fork upright again and rests his arm on the handle. “Yeah. It’s preferred that we marry our own kind. You know, to keep up the lineage. It’s not forced or anything, but we do obviously keep our … um … abilities to ourselves. You know, humans wouldn’t understand and it would be a bit hard to explain to a human girl if you had a baby with her that it’s very likely that when the baby hits puberty it’s gonna be able to shift into an animal of its choice at the drop of a hat.” He screws his face up. “It’s just easier to be with our own kind, you know.”

I nod. Then it hits me out of the blue. I’m never going to be able to have a normal relationship with anyone ever again. I’m never going to have children. Who would want me like this?

A hollow feeling sets up residence in my stomach. I had always taken for granted that at some point, when I met the right guy, I would settle down, get married and have kids. It was just a given. And now it’s not. That choice has been forever taken away.

I feel a sudden overwhelming sense of loss for the children I’m never going to have, a loss for the future I could have had.

“You want a brew?” Sol asks, interrupting my thoughts.

I can feel tears glimmering in my eyes. I don’t want him to see them, so I look down and start working again. “A brew would be great.” I somehow manage to keep my voice steady even though the tears have turned hot and are burning their way down the back of my throat.

Sol leans his pitchfork up against the wall with a clang. “We’ve got a kettle and that in the barn, but we’ve only got coffee there. Will that do you?”

I swallow down. “Coffee’s fine.”

He pulls his gloves off. “Milk and sugar?”

“Milk.”

“Powdered okay?”

“That’ll be fine,” I say quickly, wishing he’d just go and leave me alone.

He shoves his gloves into the back pocket of his jeans. “Won’t be long, and no slacking while I’m gone.” He leaves me with one of his trademark cheeky smiles before exiting the door. But even that doesn’t help.

The second he’s gone, tears spill from my eyes. I wipe them away but more quickly follow.

I’m being stupid. I know I’m being stupid. I need to pull myself together.

I press the palms of my hands to my eyes and force myself to take a few deep breaths. When the tears are finally dried and gone, I force my body back to work.

Then as quick as that my area is all done. I look around and see there’s still some mess that needs clearing up over in the far corner that Sol hadn’t got to yet.

I look down at my huge wellies, then at the wheelbarrow to my right, then back to the mess.

It’ll all probably fall off the pitchfork if I walk the distance in these wellies. I’ll use a shovel.

I swap my pitchfork for a shovel and flipper my way over to the mess. After a bit of faffing, I manage to get some of the manure onto the shovel. Then, very carefully so not to drop it, I slowly walk back, heading straight for the wheelbarrow.

And don’t ask how I mange it because I have no clue, but somehow I step on the toe of my right welly with my left, lose my balance and trip forward. As I fall, I instinctively put my hands out to stop myself, dropping the shovel. It clatters to the floor and horse shit flicks up everywhere, well mainly onto me, and I land hard on my hands and knees on the concrete floor.

“Oww!” I cry from the instant pain. I might be stronger nowadays but this still hurts like hell.

Cursing out loud, I sit back on my haunches, rubbing my bruised knees.

I’m bruised and covered in horse shit. It’s everywhere: it’s in my hair and all over my clothes. Why does this stuff always happen to me?

I yank my gloves off and, using my sore hands, rub my face clean, getting the manure off my skin, then shake my head roughly, running a hand over my ponytail, trying to get the manure out.

“Sitting down on the job?” I hear Nathan’s deep voice come from the doorway.

I haven’t heard him coming. Wouldn’t you just know when I think it can’t get any worse, Nathan arrives to ensure it does.

I look up at him. He’s got a look of amusement spread across his face which instantly grates on me. I’ve never met anyone who can get under my skin as quickly as he can.

“Piss off,” I snap.

His look of amusement instantly disintegrates and I regret my harshness. But I’m not apologising, no siree.

He glares at me with hard eyes and, not taking them off mine, pulls a New York Yankees baseball cap from out of the back pocket of his jeans, pushes his hair from off his forehead and puts it on, pulling the peak low, shading his eyes.

I notice he hasn’t shaved and has the beginnings of stubble. It suits him much better than being clean shaven. It fits in with his hobo look.

“Well … ” he says with a deep exhalation of breathe, “I had come to ask if you wanted to sack this off and come out with me, but I’m guessing by your mood probably not.”

“You want to take me out, with you?” I ask, a slight stammer creeping into my voice.

“Yep,” he answers and pushes his hands into the back pockets of his ripped jeans.

Okay, so this is an unexpected turn of events. I’m not really sure what to do, I mean I don’t deserve to be able to go out but … I haven’t been off this farm since I arrived here a month ago, and I am supposed to be trying to move forward, and it would be nice to see some different surroundings for a change.

“That would be great, but … I thought I wasn’t allowed to go out in public in case anyone recognises me?”

He pulls his hands free from his pockets and readjusts his cap, lifting the peak so I can see his face better.

Nathan really is good looking. His eyes look almost luminous in this light. It’s such a shame he’s an arsehole.

“Don’t worry,” he says mildly. “Where we’re going there won’t be anyone around.”

Sounds ominous. Nerves flutter through my stomach. I really don’t know how I feel about being alone with Nathan for an extended period of time but I hear myself saying, “Okay, that’d be great.” My voice apparently has more confidence about this than my brain does.

“You’re probably going to want to get cleaned up.” A smile plays on his lips as he gestures to my crap-covered clothes.

I glance down at myself, realising I’m still sitting on the floor with the horse manure. I quickly get to my feet, feeling self-conscious and I wipe my hands over my clothes, trying to dust them clean, only to realise all I’ve managed to achieve is to wipe crap all over my hands again. I hold them out awkwardly by my sides. “Yeah, I need to get a shower.” I nod, embarrassed.

“I’ll meet you back at the house in an hour.” Then he’s gone, almost like he was never here.

I’m going out. With Nathan. Now there’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear myself say.

I wipe my hands on the only clean part of me, the back of my T-shirt, and head for the door. I consider going to see Honor and Hope before I go but I see they’re right over the other side of the paddock, grazing on the grass, and decide against it.

I stop by the barn to let Sol know where I’m going but he’s nowhere to be found. Maybe he’s popped back to the house.

When I get back, I look around for him. I check the kitchen, living room, I even knock on his bedroom door, but there’s no answer. Maybe Nathan saw him and told him he was taking me out and he might have gone back to the stables already to finish off. We’ve probably just missed one another. Without giving it another thought, I go straight to the bathroom, peel my stinky clothes off and jump in the shower.

As the hot water hits my head, I realise I’m actually looking forward to going out with Nathan. And I really don’t know what to do with the thought. It feels alien and I can’t seem to find a suitable place for it in my mind.