‘Hooves.’
‘You know, I’ve filmed segments in the Houses of Parliament. I’ve filmed politicians, members of royalty, world leaders. What am I spending tonight doing? Filming a horse. Honestly, this job makes no sense whatsoever.’
‘Sounds fun to me, getting that variety in a job.’
‘It is, actually.’ He grins, putting on his indicator. ‘Tell me about yours.’
The journey isn’t too long and it goes fast thanks to my companion’s ease of conversation. We chat the entire way and by the time the built-up suburbs of London melt awayinto the leafy countryside roads of Kent, I feel like Hal and I are firm friends.
‘We’re close now,’ he announces as we pass the first of a string of fenced-off fields, slowing as the road grows narrower and Hal starts looking for the turning.
He spots the sign for the stables and we make a right onto the top of the long, dusty, uneven drive. Bumping against my seatbelt, I break into a smile as I see several horses grazing right next to the fence, one of whom lifts her head and walks slowly to stop at the fence curiously as we make our way up it.
‘Can you stop a moment?’ I ask, undoing my seatbelt as he slows to a standstill.
‘What are you doing?’ Hal asks when I open the door.
‘I’m saying hello.’
Her dark tail swishing in approval, the chestnut horse whinnies and snorts as I calmly stroll over to her, pleased to have human company. I reach up to stroke her nose, admiring her glossy coat and affectionate nature.
‘You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?’ I tell her, giving her cheeks a scratch.
Glancing at the other horses, all of whom are now waiting for the same treatment, I grin, climbing up the fence and hopping over it to introduce myself one by one. Hal waits patiently, not bothering to get out the car or call me back to it, so I’m assuming we have a few minutes before we need to be at the stables – and the action looks like it’s here anyway.
‘You should get some shots of the horses like this. They’re very calm,’ I call back to Hal, but he’s not concentrating, leaning back in his seat with the engine off, typing into his phone.
Shrugging, I return my focus to the horses, laughing as a magnificent, speckled grey pony with a dark nose nuzzles me a little too enthusiastically in the hunt for treats in my pockets and almost knocks me off balance.
Suddenly, a man’s voice carries across the field.
‘I should have known it was you who was trespassing.’
I freeze.I know that voice.
Thirty-Two
The world around me blurs as I see Mateo striding across the grass. My breath catches, my heart lurches, time slows, and he’s there walking through a field bathed in a dim evening glow, his eyes locked on me like nothing else exists. He’s more handsome than I remember – his hair thicker, his jaw more defined, his tall frame more imposing and confident – sending all the air whooshing from my lungs.I’ve missed him.I want to run to him. Only when the speckled grey horse pushes me back a step as she nibbles gently at my pocket does everything snap back into action. My brain kicks in, I inhale a deep breath, the horses lift their heads, alert to his presence.
‘W-what are you doing here?’ I stammer in shock as he nears, his hand reaching to pat the hindquarters of the grey.
‘I’m here to see a man about a horse.’ His lips twitch into a small, secretive smile like he knows something I don’t. ‘Lady M sent me.’ He comes to a stop in front of me, reaching up to run a hand down the neck of the grey whomoves her head round to greet him eagerly. ‘What do you think of her?’
‘Who?’
He gestures to our curious friend now checking his pockets for treats. ‘She’s a former racehorse. A very successful one. Lady M knows the owner – he got in touch to say he was selling her. She’d need to be trained up, but Lady M is convinced she’d make an excellent polo pony. What do you think?’
I stare at him, my mouth running dry. ‘Uh.’ I glance up at the pony, who snorts in frustration that neither of us have provided any snacks. She doesn’t move off, though, keen to stay in our company. ‘I don’t know. You’re the one who knows about this stuff.’
‘I’d like to know what you think,’ he insists.
‘I don’t know,’ I repeat, flustered and confused.
‘What does your gut tell you?’
I breathe out all the air in my cheeks, looking up at the pony again, her eyes bright, intelligent and shining beneath long eyelashes, her breathing calm and steady as she waits for my verdict. I reach up to stroke down her nose and she exhales in contentment.
‘I like her,’ I say eventually, rubbing the soft bit at the end of her nose, her whiskers tickling my cheek as she lifts her head in gratitude. ‘She seems to have a calm temperament and she is obviously comfortable around people, not showing any signs of being nervous, which hopefully combine to mean she’s responsive. If she’s a successful racehorse then we know she’s quick.’ I shrug. ‘I don’t know, Mateo. Serafina was hot-headed and independent and she’s now the best polo pony in the yard,so I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’d have to see someone ride her, I guess.’
