Chapter Twelve

Tentatively, Libby unlatched the gate to Low Wood Farm. Would Robbie mind her just turning up? She hoped not because she needed some time to think, a little space, and the yard was the only place she wanted to be.

Tallulah came out of the house, grinning. 'You're not supposed to be here. Dad said he'll be out in a minute. Do you fancy going riding later? Dad might let me ride Dol if I'm with you?'

'No, he won't,' Robbie said, as he came out of the house with two mugs of tea. 'You do know it's Tuesday?'

'I didn't want to be at home.' Libby leant on the shavings fork for a moment. 'Do you mind?'

'Of course not. What's up?' he asked, lighting one of her cigarettes. 'Fighting with Zoe?'

'She's at work. How's Jupiter's fetlock?' She trundled the wheelbarrow into Jupiter's box, not wanting to discuss why she was there, not yet.

The odd cotton wool clouds, dotted around the sky, provided little reprieve from the midday sun as Libby clattered into the yard, daydreaming of the spray back when she hosed Storm down.

'Ugh, I wish we had a swimming pool.' Tallulah lifted her leg over Shakespeare's neck and jumped down with utter disregard for safety.

'Don't let your dad see you do that.'

'She'll learn the hard way.' Robbie wandered in from the garden, mercifully more clothed than Libby had last seen him.

He'd been shirtless and rebuilding a wall gap in the small paddock when she'd trotted out of the yard over two hours ago. Despite her best efforts not to, Libby stared, so absorbed watching the muscles in his back, she almost fell off when Storm shied at a lurking sheep. Dear god. Robbie didn't have Jack's six pack but he didn't need it. Trim, tanned, toned, the whole package was better than she'd imagined. Why wasn't he single?

'I was about to send out the search party,' he said. 'Good ride?'

Libby nodded. 'Bit too hot.' Like you.

'When you're done, lunch is ready.'

'But...' Libby stared as he headed back into the garden. He'd made lunch, for her?

With the horses hosed down, turned out and rolling in the dusty grass, Libby tentatively followed Tallulah into the garden. Sure enough, Robbie sat with Matilda and Dora at a large wooden table laden with roast chicken, bread, salad, olives and a bottle of chilled chardonnay.

'It is our day off.' He winked as she sat down. 'Don't worry, it's still salad. No tuna or chick peas though.'

She'd tried to give him her most annoyed scowl for mocking her usual lunch box, but when he flashed his fabulous smile, it was all she could do not to blush. He'd made her lunch.

For an hour, they ate, drank and laughed. Dora entertained them with lisped nursery rhymes and Matilda showed off with the Alphabet song. Libby sat back feeling thoroughly part of the family. How long had it been since she could say that?

'Lulu, take Dora for a walk in her pushchair?' Robbie stood up, a half-asleep Dora curled up in his arms. 'Tilly, are you going too?'

As the three sisters headed down the bridleway, Libby lit a cigarette and tossed him the packet, prepared for the interrogation. 'Go on.'

'What's up?'

'Boy trouble.'

'Again?' He stretched out his legs. 'Christ, you don't hang around. Who?'

'None of your business.'

He kicked her under the table. 'Who?'

'You'll only say he's inappropriate and not to be trusted.'

'Been playing hard to get again?'

'I don't play, I am hard to get.' She paused to sip her wine. 'Jack.'

His face darkened with blatant disapproval and the little muscle in his jaw twitched. Why did he look like he wanted to yell at her? Was he protecting her like a daughter? He shouldn't since he was only five years older than her. Or was he... she gave a little shake of her head, dismissing the stupidest of ideas. He was looking out for her, like he would Daisy. That was all.

'Are you trying to find the most inappropriate and untrustworthy blokes around here?'

'Not intentionally.'

'He has a girlfriend.'

'He broke up with her.'

'To go out with you?'

She nodded. 'She laid into me this morning and he's fitting our new kitchen. I didn't fancy spending the day not daring to make a cup of tea. Oh god, Grace is devastated.'

'Understandably. You've been messing around with her boyfriend.'

'I didn't mess around with him. I don't believe in infidelity. It's wrong.'

'Moralistic little thing, aren't you?'

'Don't take the piss.'

'Sorry. If you didn't do anything wrong, it's not your fault.'

'I still feel guilty.'

'Libby, I...' He fiddled with the lighter, frowning again. 'Look, if you want my advice, run a mile. He'll go back to her. He always does.'

Libby blushed. No, he won't. Not if I've summoned him. 'But what if... He doesn't normally break up with her though.'

'Do you like him?'

'Maybe. Yes. I'm just not sure I like him enough to justify ruining their relationship.'

'If they had a decent relationship, he wouldn't be chasing after you.'

'And then there's...' She knew he wouldn't like this, but what the hell.

'There's another one?'

'Andy turned up last week, all apologetic and...' She sipped her wine. 'He got a bit heavy.'

'How heavy?' Robbie's foot tapped a drum'n'bass beat under the table.

'It's okay. I can handle myself. He just surprised me. Jack and Stan scared him off.'

'Is he still hassling you?'

'No, but he sends a new bunch of flowers every day. I'm running out of old ladies to give them to.' She blushed down at her glass. 'But I didn't give today's away.'

'Please don't tell me you're going back there.'

'I'm not. I won't. It's just... he seems to really like me.'

Robbie let out a long sigh. 'Libby, you know I don't have any time for him. He's an untrustworthy bastard. I don't care how many flowers he buys. And Jack... if he's prepared to ditch Grace, then maybe he does like you more than the others. Just be careful.'

'You're better at this heart-to-heart stuff than Zoe.'

He laughed. 'I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that. Nice to see a decent music choice, by the way.'

He nodded to her Violator t-shirt. She'd worn it because the red rose on the front matched her bra.

'Aren't Depeche Mode a bit before your time?'

'Yes,' he said, 'but good music is good music. Do you actually like the bands on your t-shirts?'

She shrugged. 'I get them from charity shops. I like them because they're cheap and make me look like a tramp.' She flashed a quick smile, making him laugh, but then took a breath. 'Rob, do you think people change?'

He stubbed out his cigarette and drained his glass before he answered. 'I did.'

Although she'd wanted him to elaborate, when a scowl spoiled his face, Libby knew better than to ask. 'God, afternoon drinking is such a bad idea. No riding for me this afternoon.'

The scowl vanished and he stood up, gathering the dishes. 'I've a better idea. Bring Cleo in and we'll see if we can't make a new Shakespeare.'

'I take it she's Shakey's mum,' Libby asked, eagerly helping to tidy the table. The sooner a new Shakespeare came along the better - one a hand higher would be perfect.

'Dam would be correct the terminology.'

'And is Max his daddy?'

'Sire.' Robbie shook his head in mock-despair. 'But no, Max's daddy was.'

'So if Cleo has another foal, it'll be Shakespeare's brother and nephew? Weird.' She followed him into the house. 'What would it be worth?'

He shrugged. 'I could sell Shakes for ten grand.'

Way out of her league. 'If it's a boy, you could call it Caesar or, I know, Touchstone.'

'Touchstone, really? You have had too much wine.'

'And if it's a girl, how about Ophelia? No, she dies. Titania... Lady Macbeth?'

'You're flooring me with your knowledge of the Bard.' He took the plates off her, trying very hard not to laugh.

She elbowed him. 'Thanks for lunch.'

'You're welcome.' He elbowed her back. 'Now, go get, Cleo, please.'

Libby seized Cleo's head collar as the mare broke into a jog. 'How do we do this?'

'Carefully. She's a feisty bugger, plays a little harder to get than you.' He side-stepped to avoid the swift kick to the shins Libby aimed at him. 'I'll take Max to the far side of the paddock. Bring her in, take her head collar off then get out of the way.'

He slipped through the gate where Max waited, snorting at Cleo. She whinnied back and Libby watched with admiration as Robbie led Max away from the gate. She'd expected the stallion to be a handful in the vicinity of a responsive mare, but although Max glanced longingly back at Cleo, he obediently followed Robbie. The horses adored him. But then, who didn't?

'What's Daddy doing?' Matilda asked, climbing the fence to watch.

'Making horsey babies,' Tallulah said, parking Dora's pushchair.

'How do you make a horsey baby?'

'You'll have to ask your daddy that,' Libby said, trying not to smile.

When Robbie waved, Libby led Cleo in. The mare hovered near the gate but Max, once released, showed no such reservations. He trotted over with his neck arched, radiating sexual energy and as he reached Cleo, she mirrored his stance. With their noses together, they snorted quietly at each other and Libby perched on the fence, goosebumps covering her arms.

Was this the equine equivalent of do you come here often?

Max lunged at Cleo, but she snapped her teeth, squealing, and the pair set off, cantering around the field.

'She always does this,' Tallulah said. 'Hermes doesn't. She's a right slapper and lets him have a go the second they're in the field.'

'What's a slapper?' Matilda asked.

Libby giggled but refused to answer.

By the time Robbie sat beside Libby, the horses had completed several laps of the paddock and were again, nose to nose.

'Cute,' Libby said. 'They like each other.'

Tallulah blew a bubble with her gum. 'It's not cute. It's like watching porn, pony porn.'

'What?' Robbie snapped. 'And when have you... Tack cleaning. Now.'

'That's so unfair, all I-'

'Now. And take Tilly and Dora with you.'

Tallulah gave a great tweenie sigh and Libby stared at the horses, her lips clamped together.

'Stop it,' Robbie warned her. 'Don't encourage her.'

'Sorry, but pony porn?' And her giggles erupted.

'You're definitely a bad example to her. Remember, if she starts dressing like you, you're fired.'

'Understood.'

'Lib, can I ask a favour?'

'What?' It was always Lib when he wanted something.

'Pick the girls up tomorrow night?'

She groaned.

'I know, I know. I had asked Daisy but they want you to do it.'

'Fine. Just don't expect me to finish the bloody list tomorrow.'

'I never do.'

'What?' Libby stared at him, but he was fixedly watching the flirtatious equine pair. 'God, you never expect me to do it all, but I always do. That's why the lists get longer and longer, to see how much you can get me to do? You...'

'Arrogant bastard?'

She wanted to be cross but when he smiled at her, she laughed and turned back to the horses. Max ambled behind Cleo, who acted as if the stallion wasn't there.

'So, isn't this the least effective method?' she asked. 'I mean, rather than in-hand.'

'I've never fancied getting in a box with her when she's in this mood. Would you?'

Max ventured towards Cleo's tail, but the mare flashed her teeth at him again and Libby shook her head. 'What about AI?'

'Call me old fashioned but this is how it should be done. Max knows what he's doing and if it doesn't work, it's not the end of the world. Besides...' Robbie glanced around, fighting another smile. 'Are you going to sweet talk Max for his donation?'

Libby shook her head, again failing to restrain her giggles like a twelve year-old in a sex education class, but when she stole a peek, Robbie was trying not to laugh too.

Cleo's latest gnash of her teeth sent Max spinning on his back legs, backing off and after a few seconds, he lowered his head, pretending to graze. With his deference to her clear, Cleo turned, lifting her tail, eager for his attention. Max sniffed at her for minute before lifting his head, pulling back his top lip.

The air changed and Libby daren't look at Robbie. Tallulah was right. This was like watching porn.

'Let's leave them to it.' Robbie jumped off the fence. 'They don't like being watched.'

As they walked back to the yard, Libby glanced back to see Max's enormous penis drop and stiffen. She giggled again but Robbie clamped his hand over her eyes.

'Stop perving.'

She elbowed him, laughing, but ducked away to stuff hay nets. Watching Max and Cleo had made her seriously horny and it'd be written all over her face. Thankfully, by the time Robbie returned with tea, she'd recovered her composure, and they sat on the bench, each smoking a cigarette.

Finally, he turned to her, his face utterly seriousness. 'So, pony porn... was it good for you too?'

Libby laughed so hard, tears streamed down her cheeks. God, she loved working for him. She'd finally found her distraction. For the first time in three years, she didn't wake in the morning, wishing she were going to class, auditioning, rehearsing.

But to her surprise, when she dried her eyes, Robbie wasn't laughing. The muscle in his jaw twitched away as he frowned at his mug. 'What's up?'

'Van's coming back for the weekend.'

'Okay.' So she'd finally meet Vanessa Golding. But why wasn't Robbie looking remotely pleased at the idea of his wife's return?

'Look, I think it'd be better if...'

'I'm not here?'

'I'm taking the weekend off. Family time.'

'Want me to do Monday and Tuesday instead?'

'You can't do seven days in a row again.'

'It's fine.'

'You really are a godsend.'

She struggled to keep her blushes under control. 'Is that why you vastly overpaid me?'

'For the babysitting, the cigarettes.' He tugged her plait. 'And because this place has never looked so good.'

Her blushes were beyond control. 'Can I take Shakespeare out on Saturday, if Tallulah doesn't mind? I'll stay out of the way.'

He nodded as he reached up for a CD on the windowsill. 'Track seven is noteworthy. It's what you should be looking for instead of inappropriate, untrustworthy types.'

She studied the CD, Depeche Mode's 101. Track seven was Somebody. 'Thank you. And not just for this, but for today.'

'Have you decided what to do about Jack yet?'

She shook her head.

'And if Andy Chapman turns up here-'

'Honestly, I can handle myself.'

'Libby, wet through you weigh about seven stone-'

'Eight.'

'If he turns up here, ring me.' And to her horror, he kissed her on the head, his lips resting against her hair for a moment. 'Please be careful.'

She didn't move as the old desire to look up at him, to see if... just if, surfaced once again. Andy wanted her, Jack wanted her, but she wanted what she couldn't have.

That evening, she put the CD into her laptop and skipped straight to track seven. Somebody. The track, recorded live, featured nothing more than the singer, Martin Gore, playing piano as he sang of what he'd looked for in a partner. Libby pressed repeat four times, captivated.

This was what she needed, what she wanted. She wanted somebody to share the rest of her life, know her innermost thoughts, her intimate details. She wanted somebody to put their arms around her and kiss her, tenderly.

I want 'Somebody'.