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‘I guess we’ll see you later on,’ said Gus, who didn’t mind the horse’s attentions at all. When she looked confused, he added, ‘Denby’s arriving today.’
‘Right, yes. Don’t worry, hadn’t forgotten. In fact, Cinnamon here will be his neighbour, won’t you, Cinnamon?’
‘Good to know.’ He gave Cinnamon a final rub on his neck. ‘While we’re on the subject of Denby, I wanted to ask again about riding lessons for Abigail. I’m a bit confused.’
And that was her fault. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve been a bit all over the place. I’m trying to have Arnold find some free time in his schedule. We’ll work something out.’
He hesitated before he met her gaze. ‘Is Abigail the problem?’
‘Abigail?’
‘It’s just that you had sessions free and then you suddenly didn’t. And the only thing I can think of is that it’s specifically to do with Abigail.’
And now it was worse. He thought she didn’t want his daughter, that perhaps she didn’t like Abigail. And that wasn’t the case at all. It made her sad that he might in any way think she was a terrible person for refusing to teach, when one minute, she told him she could, the next, she changed her mind. But she’d done well to protect the reputation of the stables and part of that had been carrying on around other people as though nothing were out of the ordinary. Nobody in the village seemed to know the dire straits she was in, which they might do if she and Arnold suddenly brought in another teacher, a stranger to the village. Gossip might trickle out that she wasn’t teaching much at all and so might the reasons why. And no rider wanted to know their potential teacher had lost their nerve, not with horses, but with them.
Hazel smiled at Gus and said the only thing she could think of under the circumstances. ‘I promise you it’s not personal to Abigail. She really is a lovely girl. I’ll talk with Arnold again.’ She had to stand her ground. She’d already confused him by saying they had vacancies when she’d assumed he might be the one wanting lessons, she didn’t want to do it all over again.
‘She’s pretty competent and she’ll listen to instruction. She knows how to behave.’ Before she could reply, he added, ‘I thought you might reconsider. She’s more confident with women than men, I think females are generally more understanding and patient. Not always, but you two got on when you met. At least, I thought you did, anyway.’ He was tripping over his words a little; it would be cute if the subject matter wasn’t so painful for Hazel. ‘Like I said, we’d be really flexible, fit in with your schedule, weekend, evening, early before school if needs be. Whenever you have the time.’
Gus still hadn’t finished, he still wasn’t letting her go, as he told her, ‘Abigail has had a few knocks along the way with one thing or another. Horse riding is the one thing that’s constant, the one thing she trusts and has confidence with. Funny how she can be so confident in that but not much else.’ He was almost speaking to himself now, or Cinnamon, Hazel wasn’t sure.
But Hazel got it, that lack of confidence in some areas and not in others. Because that was exactly how she felt. She knew what Abigail must have gone through, what she might still be going through.
And yet, what could she say? Sorry, I can’t teach her because I lack confidence in keeping kids safe? And how could she, with a confidence problem, possibly support someone else who had similar issues? Arnold was a much better bet – good with any age or ability, patient but firm, and had the ability to crack a joke, sometimes at his own expense, to keep everyone on an even keel. Or perhaps she could apologise and say sorry I can’t teach Abigail because I saw the way you went off at those teenagers the other night and having been on the receiving end of an angry parent once before when a father came at me with a pitch fork, fury etched into every part of his being; I’d crumble if anything like that ever happened again. That man had destroyed a part of her that she’d never fully got back.
‘Think about it,’ he suggested, his brow furrowing as though he needed to ask her more questions.
She wondered – if she told him the truth, would he understand?
‘Dad!’ A voice sounded before Hazel could encourage Cinnamon to walk on.
‘Out here,’ he called over his shoulder.
Abigail came running around from out back and immediately beamed a smile at Hazel before she turned her attention to the horse. ‘Which one is he?’
‘This is Cinnamon.’
Abigail kept her voice soft. ‘Hello, Cinnamon.’ She stepped slowly towards him. His head moved slightly, his ears registering her voice and his nose seeking out this new arrival. ‘Can I touch him?’
‘Of course,’ said Hazel, ‘and I appreciate you asking.’ Many didn’t and Cinnamon, while he usually responded well, could get a bit annoyed too. But Abigail was doing everything right, she made her movements gradual, she reached out for his shoulder first and stroked his coat before she got closer to his face. Hazel couldn’t even hear half of what she was saying but she did pick up the name Denby. It seemed the little girl was telling Hazel’s horse all about the latest stable mate he would meet later today.
‘Where did you ride?’ Abigail asked, way more confident than she’d been at the stables. Perhaps this was what Gus meant, maybe her confidence ebbed and flowed according to new situations.
‘We have some wonderful countryside and bridleways nearby, so mostly off-road.’ Abigail began to laugh when Cinnamon jerked his nose upwards away from her hand so he could explore the sound of a lawnmower that had started in the distance. ‘He’s inquisitive, sometimes a little too much, but mostly he’s a good horse.’
Abigail waited for Cinnamon to lower his head, knowing he’d get more fuss, and she obliged straight away.
When Hazel had first seen the scars on Abigail’s face, she hadn’t been shocked, but she had wondered what had happened. Going by what Gus was saying, she’d been through something, but whether he was referring to what happened or to her parents not being together, or to a school move, or to all those things together, she wasn’t sure. It made her want to ask him more, to sit with him and talk at length about his daughter, a girl she really did like. Hazel wondered briefly whether something had happened to Abigail under Gus’s care, but as Abigail and Gus laughed about Cinnamon chomping down his apple when Gus’s tummy rumbled loudly, she knew that if it had, it would’ve been a dreadful accident. And then she berated herself because she knew only too well how easy it was to lay blame at someone’s feet. And if you were that person, it didn’t matter whether it was your fault or not, it still felt like you were on trial, and it made you doubt yourself.
‘I’d better get going,’ said Hazel. ‘But I look forward to meeting Denby later on.’
They both said goodbye, Gus holding her gaze a little longer than was comfortable and Abigail looking more enamoured with the horse than with Hazel.
Hazel tapped her heels gently against Cinnamon so that he walked on. As they made their way down the street, Hazel could sense she was being watched. It was like when you passed someone you really liked and you knew they were watching you walk away, which made you wonder whether you’d even be able to put one foot in front of the other until you were out of sight so you didn’t make a fool of yourself.
Hazel’s shoulders didn’t relax until she was back on The Street, safely away from Gus and his daughter, past the pub, and on her way home.
