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8
Hazel read James’s text but ignored it. He was persistent, she’d give him that, but she had no time to reply now, no time to consider a polite response to the reminder he knew someone who might be interested in a job at the stables. A job that only existed in his imagination. She’d eaten her lunch in the comfort of the kitchen – Arnold had shovelled his in standing outside before greeting his next riding student – and now it was on to turning the compost in the section pile in the purpose-built shed, then she’d muck out the last stable neither of them had done yet, put down extra shavings in the stables that had been cleaned and aired, and she had a private lesson scheduled.
Hazel fanned her T-shirt when finally, after the lesson and the tack had been wiped down and put away, she found her bottle of water from the office and downed nearly all of it on her way around to the stable block. Her phone had pinged several times and each time she’d ignored it when she saw it was James. She didn’t want to be nagged any more about her next step.
‘Have you seen Denby?’ Arnold asked her as he led Milton from the paddock and towards the outside of the stable block, ready to tack up. For a minute, it sounded like Denby was missing. ‘Go take a look. I’ve brought him in to the closest paddock.’
Hazel wandered over to where Denby was grazing and couldn’t see what Arnold was getting at until she climbed over the fence and went around to the other side of the horse. ‘Denby… it hasn’t rained in days. Did you find the only patch of mud?’ His whole left side was caked in mud that he must’ve rolled in – there was one area at the far side of the paddock that often accumulated water. Most of the horses were uninterested but it seemed that Denby’s new surrounds had evoked his curiosity at what it might feel like. Perhaps it had felt good in the summer heat.
When she saw Gus’s car pull into the car park, she climbed back over the fence. With Arnold about to take a lesson, she waited for him and his daughter to come over. ‘Did you go for the beef bap?’ she asked Gus, uneasy beneath his gaze already and not wanting to stumble over her words.
‘I did, and I think I’ll be having it again.’
She looked at Abigail. ‘Your Denby has been up to mischief.’
Any wariness from Abigail disappeared and was instead replaced by amusement. ‘What’s he done?’
‘Come with me.’ She led the young girl into the paddock.
Abigail began to smile when she saw his coat. ‘Denby, you naughty thing. You’re so dirty.’
‘He needs a bath,’ said Hazel.
‘Does that mean I can’t go out riding? Dad?’
Hazel looked to Abigail. ‘We could bath him together if you like, then you could come back later on to ride him, once he’s nice and dry. It’s still light for hours yet, you’ve plenty of time.’
‘Can we, Dad?’
‘Sure we can.’ Gus seemed more than happy with the arrangement.
The little girl beamed with the kind of smile Hazel had previously seen on kids who’d accomplished something they had been trying for a long while, whether it was getting their horse into a canter and being comfortable in the saddle, or taking a series of trotting poles and jumps in the riding school, going full circle for the first time. There was nothing like it.
‘Are you sure she won’t be in the way?’ Gus asked, taking Hazel by surprise. His question suggested he still thought her refusal to teach Abigail was personal and it saddened her beyond belief that either of them might think of her as anything other than approachable and friendly.
‘Not at all,’ she told him. ‘I appreciate the help. Most owners who board their horses like the riding and do the grooming but are happy to let us take charge of giving their horse a good bath. Usually they’re pushed for time as it is, with jobs, kids, elderly relatives to care for. Kids who love horses usually want to be a part of the action.’
Hazel explained the order of things to Abigail as she led Denby from the paddock into the wash area inside the stable block. Abigail absorbed all the new information and shared what usually happened at bath time with her horse.
‘He hates the water in his eyes and ears,’ Abigail explained as she cleaned out the horse’s hooves.
‘A lot of horses do. I’ll put some shampoo on my hands for his face and that way I can rub it in, avoiding the eyes, that’ll keep him happy. Then we just quickly and gently rinse that away.’
Once Denby’s hooves were done, Abigail found a brush to begin getting rid of as much of the dirt from her horse’s coat as possible before any water or shampoo was involved. And while Abigail brushed, Hazel filled a bucket with water to which she added a special shampoo and dropped in a sponge ready to use.
‘We’ll also take it slowly with the water,’ Hazel explained. ‘We’ll begin at his feet, get him used to the temperature and see how he reacts.’
‘Joan does that too,’ Abigail smiled, moving the brush further down Denby’s belly.
‘It’s a good method.’ Hazel was aware Gus was watching her as well as his daughter. He was leaning against the wall across from the wash area, giving them plenty of space. The horse’s ears swished back and forth, listening to his name on Abigail’s lips and the conversation between all of them in the stable block.
Hazel did her best to concentrate on the task at hand. She picked up the hose and checked the temperature of the water coming out of it, but Gus’s eyes following her the whole time reminded her that she still had a very clear sketch of him tucked away in her office that she could look at any time she wanted. It was hard to think of him as the same man she’d seen so angry after the art class, the way he’d got close to those teenagers to make his point. She hadn’t needed to hear the words that night, his body language and threatening demeanour had said it all, and so had the faces of those teens. And yet every time he was here, he was like a whole other person – sensitive, kind, someone she enjoyed having around.
‘Someone really wants to get hold of you,’ Gus said when the phone she’d slotted onto the shelf beside him buzzed again.
Hazel didn’t say anything, just carried on with the task. ‘Now, we don’t want to give Denby a shock,’ she told Abigail. ‘I’m sure you know all this, but I’ll go through it the way I do bath time, is that all right?’ With everything within reach, including the sponge and bucket of water, she said, ‘Let’s get his feet wet and make sure the temperature is all right for him. Cinnamon likes to dance a bit when I bathe him.’
‘Denby does that.’
