Kate's Progress (23 page)

‘Good. I do too,’ said Kate.

‘Do fish have fingers?’ Dommie asked. His face brightened as the full glory of the thought expanded in his mind. ‘Kate, do fish have fingers? I bet they do. Do they have fingers and feet and noses and ears?’ He began to giggle.

Kate could see the situation deteriorating. ‘Eat your supper,’ she said, trying to be stern.

‘Fingers and toes and noses and heads and legs,’ Dommie chanted.

Hayley banged her fork down messily in her potato, splashing herself with dots of tomato sauce in a scarlet pattern that would send a forensic investigator into delirium. ‘Fingers!’ she shouted.

‘Eat properly, or there’ll be no pudding,’ Kate commanded. They were both banging forks now, shrieking with giggles at the splashes. She wondered for a moment why anyone had children.

To calm them down after their Mr Men yoghurts, she took them both on the sofa to watch a Postman Pat DVD (
Pat – The Glory Years
). Hayley curled up in her lap and Dommie scooched up as close to her as he could get without actually ending up on the other side. Hayley only watched for a few minutes before her thumb went in her mouth, she turned her face into Kate’s chest, and was soon slumbering deeply. Dommie watched with close attention what was obviously a favourite DVD, for every now and then he would tell her what was going to happen just before it did. Whenever the theme song came on – which seemed agonizingly often – he sang it with his own words: ‘Postman Pat, Postman Pat, Postman Pat in his silly old hat.’ And repeat. He was obviously delighted with himself for thinking of it, because he giggled inordinately each time.

Kate was afraid the stories were just too drama-packed and he’d never settle down.

But at the end of the DVD he went unexpectedly meekly to bed, doing his own teeth while she put the still sleeping Hayley down. She heard him singing quietly to himself in the bathroom. When she went in, she found he had spread toothpaste all over his face and was shaving himself with the handle of his toothbrush.

When he was in bed too, she went down and cleaned up the kitchen, then back to the sofa to watch an episode of
Grey’s Anatomy
she discovered (oh, the glories of satellite!) on one of the many channels she didn’t get. She didn’t get to the end of it, however, for she woke with a start to a completely different programme as Kay and Darren came in, very cheerful and smelling sweetly of curry.

‘You all right?’ Kay asked.

‘Fine,’ Kate said, struggling upright and covertly wiping a bit of drool off her chin. ‘Just watching TV.’

‘Kids all right?’

‘Yes, they were no trouble at all,’ Kate said with mental crossed fingers. ‘Did you have a nice time? Was the film good?’

‘Ooh, that Daniel Craig,’ Kay said. ‘I’d have him between two bits of bread, any day of the week. Darren liked the Bond Girl an’ all, didn’t you?’

‘Nice,’ he said. He wasn’t a chatty man.

‘So,’ Kay said, and looked at Kate speculatively, her head slightly on one side, as though she had something to impart.

‘Yes?’ Kate asked.

Kay opened her mouth to speak, but Darren said, ‘Kate’s tired, she wants to get off to bed. And I’ve gotter get in early tomorrow. Want me to walk you to the door?’ he asked.

‘No, I’m fine,’ Kate said. She patted her pocket. ‘I thought to bring a torch with me this time.’

So they said their goodnights. Outside it was black, and her eyes took time to adjust after the lit house. She shone the torch on the path in case of trip hazards. It was a feeble little blue light – the sort of torch you hang on your keyring to help you find the keyhole – but it was enough to show her her way. Her gate squeaked under her hand; she tramped carefully up her own overgrown path, and pulled out her key, and as she reached the door, shone the torch on it to locate the keyhole.

Someone had painted something on her door. She touched it cautiously, and her finger came away sticky. She opened the door and turned on the inside light to see better.

Large, rough letters, and the paint was red – of course! She hoped it was paint, anyway. Hastily, splashily painted, so that there were drips on the doorstep. She found herself thinking of the kids and tomato ketchup. Better think of that than the words someone had felt strongly enough to paint roughly on her front door.

GO HOME

YOUR NOT WANTED

She was out at first light with turps and a rag, but the paint had sunk deeply into the old, dry wood and was hard to remove. Darren came out of his house to go to work while she was still labouring, and came across to her gate to say, ‘You’re starting early.’ Then he saw what she was doing. He came up the path and stood beside her silently a moment while she rubbed, then said, ‘Probably some drunk kids having a laugh. Don’t mean anything.’

‘That’s what I’m telling myself,’ she said, though she was quite shaken inside.

Darren’s big hand reached across her shoulder and he touched the paint and scraped at it with a fingernail. ‘Try sandpaper,’ he said. ‘The paint’s loose underneath.’

‘I was going to sand this door down anyway,’ she said, ‘and repaint it properly. It wasn’t the first job on my list, though.’

‘Right.’ He laid his hand an instant on her shoulder. ‘Don’t take it to heart. People don’t think like that.’ And then, ‘Gotter go. Be late for work.’

Kate gave up with the turps, went and fetched a can of undercoat and quickly painted over the whole thing. You could see a ghostly outline of the words, but only if you looked. From the road it would look like part of her redecorating. She hoped the perpetrators wouldn’t come back to admire their handiwork and feel obliged to restore it.

With a pub at the bottom of the street, she told herself, there was always the possibility of drunks wandering past late at night and making fools of themselves. It was a shame she had fallen asleep, or she might have heard them – heard the gate squeak, anyway.

She had the ride to look forward to today, and determinedly dismissed the incident from her mind. She wasn’t going to let it spoil her day.

She was to drive over to The Hall for a ten o’clock start. At half past nine she was just thinking of getting ready when Kay appeared, back from taking the kids to school.

‘You all right? Darren rung me, told me about your door. Rotten little scrotes. You didn’t hear anything?’

‘Not a thing,’ Kate said. ‘But I’m not letting it upset me. I’m not even going to think about it.’

‘Quite right,’ Kay said, and hesitated with that same look of impending communication. ‘Last night,’ she began.

‘Yes?’ Kate said, mainly to hurry her along because she wanted to do something with her hair before the ride.

‘Well, Darren didn’t think I should tell you, but if it was me, I’d want to know.’

‘Know what?’

‘Well, last night, after the pictures, when we went for a curry, we went past Coco’s – it’s like a wine bar, but quite posh. And we saw Jack Blackmore in there. With a woman.’

‘Oh yes?’ Kate said neutrally.

Kay looked at her with sympathy. ‘When I say “with a woman”, I mean he was all over her. Young thing, she looked, blonde hair, miniskirt up to here and low cut top – you wonder why some of ’em bother getting dressed at all. Anyway, they were smooching over the table and I don’t know what his hand was doing under it. I’m sorry, Kate.’

‘Don’t be,’ she said. There was no denying she felt a pang, but she was sure now she had never been serious about him. Her pride might have taken a ding, but nothing else. ‘We went out a couple of times, had a bit of fun. That’s all.’

‘I did warn you about him,’ Kay said, still anxiously, not taking Kate’s assurance at face value. ‘This one we saw him with, she’s much more his usual sort. He likes ’em obvious. I was surprised he was making a play for you, you being a cut above, but then I thought maybe that was proof it was serious. So I was worried …’

‘I’m fine,’ Kate said, and smiled to prove it. ‘He wasn’t making a play for me. He only took me out really to thank me for rescuing the dog. There was nothing between us, just friendliness.’

‘Oh,’ said Kay, looking at her carefully, as if she still didn’t believe.

‘Look, thanks for telling me, but I’m really all right, no broken heart, listen.’ She rapped her chest dramatically. ‘See? Sound as a drum. And now I have to chuck you out, because I have to get ready to go out.’

‘Going out?’ Kay was instantly interested.

‘Riding,’ Kate said.

‘Up The Hall? Jocasta again?’

‘And Ed.’

‘Oh,’ said Kay, and it was quite different from the previous one. She gave a grin. ‘Better let you get glammed up, then.’

‘I’m just going riding!’ Kate exclaimed, exasperated. And then, ‘So you wouldn’t mind if it was Ed instead of Jack – not that it is, but I’m interested in your thought processes.’

‘Ed’s a different kettle of fish,’ Kay said mysteriously, and went away.

Jocasta was thrilled that the three of them were going out together. Ed seemed, Kate thought, perhaps just a shade less grave than on previous occasions, as though he was looking forward to the outing.

Henna looked enormous when she was led out, though that was just the contrast with Chloe, the last thing Kate had mounted. She also looked very fresh, and was skittering about, wanting to be off. Ed gave Kate a leg up, and held the mare while she adjusted her stirrups, and then told her to cock her leg forward while he tightened her girths. Jocasta was already up on Daphne. He went back and led out Graceland, checked the girth and was up in one graceful spring. Kate gave an inward sigh of pleasure. He looked simply perfect in the saddle. She didn’t know why that was gratifying, but it was. She’d have hated for him to look at all ungainly.

They rode out the back way and straight on to the hills, climbing steeply through the woods for the first ten minutes before emerging on to the green hilltop and turning on to a wide mud track.

‘All right?’ Ed asked after a while, looking back at her.

Kate was not entirely comfortable. ‘She keeps throwing her head up and down,’ she said. She had narrowly missed a couple of painful – and probably bloody – bangs on the nose. ‘And she won’t let me take up her mouth at all.’

‘It was a bad habit she had when we got her,’ he said, halting Graceland so she could catch up with him. ‘Hanging behind the bit, and letting her hocks trail. Probably ridden by someone heavy-handed, who hung on to her mouth. I thought we’d broken her of it, but I suppose she just isn’t getting ridden enough, and she’s reverting to her old habits.’ When she was beside him, he moved Gracie on again so they were riding side by side, and looked her over critically. ‘Your leg is slightly too far forward,’ he said. ‘Move your seat an inch further forward, and draw your lower leg back an inch. That’s better. Now push your heels down, and use your seat to drive her on to the bit.’ Kate obeyed. ‘Any better?’ he asked after a moment.

‘A bit,’ she said.

‘It’ll be easier at the trot,’ he said. ‘She’s not paying attention. We’ll trot for ten minutes or so and that’ll steady her and bring her head down.’

He called to Jocasta, who had wandered ahead of them, and put Gracie into a trot. Henna jostled and flung her head around, wanting to race, but as Ed increased the pace to an extended trot, allowing Kate to drive her on, she found she couldn’t overtake, and settled down to a lovely, long, ground-eating pace. They passed Daphne, who laid his ears back in annoyance and made a swiping pass of his teeth at Kate’s leg, and she heard Jocasta cry, ‘Woo-hoo!’ as she put her pony into a canter to keep up.

And magically, after five minutes of fast trotting, Henna’s head had come down, her hocks had come under her, and she was going as straight and steady as a line drawn with a ruler; Kate could feel her mouth, and felt in control again. Looking ahead between the pricked red-gold ears, she felt a great surge of happiness.

Another five minutes and the pace had become the long, easy, relaxed stride that covers miles and can be kept up for hours. Ahead of her, Ed posted in his saddle to Gracie’s smooth pace; Jocasta and Daphne had dropped back but were still in sight. Finally Ed put his hand up, slowed to a collected trot, then a walk, and halted Gracie across the path, looking back with what was almost a smile.

‘That looks better,’ he said as Kate reached him and halted.

‘It is better,’ she said, leaning forward to slap Henna’s neck in approval. The mare blew out percussively through her nostrils, but stood quietly, though alert and ready. ‘That awful head-tossing has stopped. And she’s on the bit.’

‘I can see. You two look very good together. How do you find her paces?’

‘Lovely, now she’s settled down.’

Jocasta came up to them at a canter, Daphne with his ears back and a very savage look on his face at the idea that any other equine could be at the head of the ride. ‘You look brilliant together,’ she called out to Kate. ‘All that red hair! I didn’t realize you rode so well.’

‘Nor did I!’ Kate laughed. ‘It’s been years since I was on a horse. But I suppose it comes back to you. I’ll be stiff tomorrow, though.’

‘Oh, that soon wears off,’ Jocasta said, and to Ed: ‘Are we going to do some jumping? There’s that track down Badger Coombe with the tree trunks and the stream at the bottom, and the walls on the other side.’

‘Yes, OK,’ Ed said, ‘as long as there’s some serious hill work afterwards. We’re not supposed to be enjoying ourselves.’

‘Kate is,’ Jocasta pointed out.

‘Are you all right, jumping?’ Ed asked.

‘If it’s not too high. I used to do cross-country, back in Dublin.’

‘Ah! Well, this is just the same sort of thing – a woodland track, downhill, and a few natural hazards.’

‘Lead me to it,’ she said, with a happy grin. Henna turned her head to look back at her, and the eye seemed good and kindly. ‘I think she likes me,’ she said.

‘She likes being out,’ Ed said, and then seemed to realize that was not very flattering. ‘But she’s going well for you, so she must like you, too.’

It was great fun, slithering and wiggling down the steepest part of the track, cantering where it was flatter, jumping the fallen tree trunks – which had obviously been trimmed and positioned specifically for riders – and a couple of laid hedges, then bursting out of the woods at the bottom, jumping the fast-running, stony little brook, and galloping uphill on the other side on open ground, over several drystone walls and a couple of jumps made of straw bales. They pulled up at the top to breathe the horses, and Kate said, ‘That was terrific. She jumps like a stag.’