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2
The morning after the art class, Hazel ventured downstairs shortly after six, happy it was summer and the sun came up nice and early. It helped her to get out of bed when the rest of the village was likely sleeping, with the exception of Jade and Celeste, who ran the Twist and Turn Bakery and kept bakers’ hours. She picked up the post from the mat – a single brown envelope that was most likely something financial. She found Arnold in the kitchen, sitting at the farmhouse table as usual, browsing news on the iPad the way he always did, a mug of coffee in front of him, an empty bowl left behind from his cereal.
Hazel set down the envelope and grabbed the sliced bread from the bread bin before locating the butter dish, a knife, and a plate.
‘You all right to take the lesson at eleven o’clock?’ Arnold finished his last mouthful of coffee.
‘I told you I would.’ The lesson was more of a supervision session for an adult who had been riding here for many years, a friend of their parents. Hazel would merely give tips and guidance for a series of low jumps in a small circuit that she would set up while the rider and the horse warmed up in the school.
‘Don’t take your hangover out on me.’ At least her snappish tone seemed to amuse her brother. Sometimes he could be too serious and it detracted from the dark-haired good looks passed down from their dad. Hazel and her brother were complete opposites in looks – she had blonde hair, highlighted all the more from the sun, while he had a few greys now he’d reached forty. She had none to speak of, as she liked to remind him. Hazel had blue eyes, Arnold had brown. Her skin turned a golden brown without much effort at all, while he had to be more careful, being slightly fairer. In temperament, however, she liked to think they were pretty similar. They both worked hard, they were both thorough and patient, but while Arnold’s way was to meet challenges head on, Hazel tended to hold back when she feared something.
‘I’m not hungover,’ Hazel told her brother as she dropped two slices of bread into the toaster before pouring herself a mug of coffee. But taking in the amused expression on her brother’s face, she admitted, ‘All right, a couple of beers turned into a fair few. But we had a nice time.’
He seemed to mellow as he put his bowl and mug in the sink and at the back door pulled on his boots. ‘I’m glad you went out, socialised a bit.’
‘You make it sound as though I’m a recluse.’ She wasn’t that bad. It was more a case of being busy, focused. She noticed Arnold hovering at the back door. ‘What’s wrong?’ She’d always be able to read him and he knew it.
‘I had to turn down another booking late last night for three siblings who want riding lessons.’
‘We can’t fit them in?’
He raised his eyebrows – wasn’t it obvious? ‘Not with only one of us teaching.’
‘I teach,’ she defended, although she wasn’t teaching nearly enough, and her brother was picking up the slack. Their clientele was heavily weighted to the young, inexperienced side, and those were the riders she had a problem with. ‘I’ll get back to it properly. I will.’
‘We’re doing well financially but you know I hate turning down business, Hazel. This is our livelihood.’
‘I said I’d get back to it,’ she repeated. She hated tension with Arnold. They’d never had much growing up, apart from the usual sibling irritations and bickering – whose turn it was to dry up the dishes, who hogged the remote control, which one of them got to sit in the front seat if only one parent was in the car on an outing.
With a sigh that told of his frustration, he headed outside to open up the gates for the hay delivery, which was due any minute now.
‘I’ll be out soon,’ she called after him, a gentleness to her tone.
Heritage View was home, the only home Hazel had ever known or wanted to know, and no matter what happened or the problems she still had, the walls of this house felt safe.
Hazel pushed the back door open fully to allow the breeze to bring inside the freshness of the summer season. The back entrance to Heritage View House led out and around the rear of the property, on past the tack room and to the stable block, which was accessible from two sides, and the office, as well as an indoor riding school. From the front of the house, with its grand door surrounded by ivy and climbing roses, they could see paddocks directly opposite and beside those, the outdoor riding school with further paddocks beyond. All of this land was nestled in Heritage Cove with the main street of the village a short distance away, walkable or rideable, if that was what you chose.
The toast popping up made her jump and from the larder she found the elderflower jam she’d bought locally to spread on her toast after the butter.
As she ate her breakfast, Hazel picked up the brown envelope she’d retrieved from the mat earlier. She realised it was way too soon for the postman and that actually there was no postmark. With a piece of toast between her teeth, she ripped open the envelope and pulled out the piece of paper inside. A Post-it was stuck to the front, which said in curly writing:
Especially for you, enjoy it whenever you need to, love Lucy x.
She almost choked on her toast. In her hand was Lucy’s picture of the nude model from yesterday and the way she’d captured him on paper was as though he was sitting here at her kitchen table with her. If Lucy ever decided artisan blacksmithing was no longer for her, she could make a fortune drawing portraits, although Hazel wasn’t sure what market there was for nudes.
Hazel had only just got up to take her plate and mug over to the sink when there was a knock at the front door, most likely the actual postman, not Lucy, who must’ve come by at the crack of dawn to make the delivery.
But it wasn’t the postman; it was James. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, the way he’d become accustomed to doing since they split up.
She looked at her watch and then back at him. His cheeks were rosy from the fresh start at this early hour. ‘It’s crazy early.’ She spotted his Audi parked behind him, as though it might be too much effort to walk over from the designated parking area outside the main gates to the house and the riding school. Everyone else seemed to manage to park appropriately and it was only deliveries that came up this close, even when the gates were open.
He’d spotted her eyeing the car. ‘You’re going to ask me to move it, aren’t you?’
‘You’d better. We’re expecting a hay delivery.’
He pointed the remote and the bleep sounded before he climbed in. One sure way to make him move the car was any threat of it being scratched or covered in debris and a hay delivery satisfied both of those categories.
Hazel hovered at the front door until he jogged back over. ‘I’ve got to go into the office in London,’ he explained, as he followed her along the hallway and into the kitchen, where she offered him a cup of coffee. ‘Then I have a couple of on-site meetings with clients, so it was an early start this morning. I was passing through, thought I’d stop and check in.’ He was dressed smarter than usual, not that he varied much in what he wore. Today he had on charcoal-grey trousers and a light-blue shirt that complimented eyes of almost the same colour and his blond, wavy hair that was always slightly too long. James had been a consultant solicitor specialising in employment law for well over a decade and had the same passion for his job that Hazel had had for hers until something unexpected had knocked her sideways.
