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“Well, riding Mabel could be good for Mairi,” Trina advised Sarah with a smile. “Great therapy, or so the Riding for the Disabled program tells me.”
“How is all that going, anyway?” Sarah asked. “You said you were thinking about retiring a few weeks ago, weren’t you?” She hoped Trina might have changed her mind.
“Yes.” Trina paused and then admitted, “I’ve decided to put the stable yard up for sale, actually. I’m going to send an email out to all current clients, but I’m trying to tell as many as I can personally.”
“Oh, Trina…” Sarah looked at her in dismay. She had really hoped it wouldn’t come to this and she was sorry for her friend, because she knew how much this place meant to her, having taken it over from her mother.
Trina shrugged and smiled, doing her best to be philosophical. “It happens.”
“If you sell it… will the new owners keep it going, do you think?”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I took some financial advice and it’s not worth it to sell it as a business, so I’m just offering the land. Who knows what someone will do with it… it’s not that big, so they might make it private. But, like I said, you don’t need to worry. There are a couple of farms around here that offer stabling.”
“At this point, I don’t know if we’ll even keep Mabel,” Sarah admitted with a sad sigh. “The way Mairi’s lost interest recently…”
Trina’s expression softened. “Maybe you should keep Mabel for yourself.”
“Maybe,” Sarah agreed, although she wasn’t really sure she could justify the expense. And yet she loved Mabel, and being with her was a sort of therapy. She felt calmer now than she had when she’d arrived, her scattered thoughts pinging around like they were in a pinball machine. A few minutes with Mabel had grounded her in a way nothing else did. “And what about the Riding for the Disabled program?” she asked Trina.
“They’ll have to go to Chepstow, unfortunately.”
“That’s too bad,” Sarah murmured, and Trina nodded her agreement.
“Sometimes,” she said, “you don’t have a choice in these matters.”
Sarah was still thinking about Trina and the stables as she headed home later that afternoon, the evening already drawn in, the sky darkening. On a night like tonight, with the air so chilly and still, it was easy to believe Christmas was just a little more than a month away, especially now that the decorations had gone up in shops, festive lights strung out along the high street.
As she pulled into her drive, she simply sat in the driver’s seat for a moment, steeling herself for the evening ahead—dealing with Mairi’s anxiety and anger, helping her to study, while also prying Owen off his games console and trying to engage him in family life. Making dinner, doing laundry, tidying up as she went along, all the while waiting for Nathan to come home and most likely closet himself in the study for another evening of solitude and silence. The prospect made her feel defeated before she’d even begun.
I don’t want my life to be like this, Sarah realized with a jolt. This wasn’t just a wave in an otherwise untroubled sea; it was everything. She didn’t want to live this way, trudging through life, cleaning up other people’s messes, doing her best to seem in control. She didn’t want tobethis way. In the past, she wouldn’t have stood for any of it. She would have told Mairi to get herself under control, made some study cards and bought some revision guides, considered the whole thing sorted. She would have confronted Nathan, snapped at him to make more of an effort, done and dusted. Neither of those would work now, she knew, and moreover, she didn’t even want to attempt them.
Somehow, over the last few years, she’d changed—for better as well as for worse. She didn’t want to be that overly ambitious and assertive woman who was secretly pleased people seemed intimidated by her anymore, and yet she still wanted to take control of her life.
How?
The front door opened and Owen stood there, looking gangly and uncertain as he peered out into the darkness.
“Mum?” he called. “Are you coming inside?” A pause, and then he added a bit plaintively, “I’m hungry.”
With a sigh, Sarah opened the car door.
Everything in the house was just as she’d expected it to be—toast crumbs littering the kitchen worktops, along with an open jar of jam, a pack of butter, and two knives smeared with both. The milk had been left out by the kettle, and the lid of the sugar bowl was left off, with sticky grains of sugar scattered everywhere. It wasn’t all that much, and she could clear it up in two minutes, but all the same it felt more dispiriting than, Sarah knew, was warranted.
“Owen, were you the one who had toast?” she asked, and he ducked his head.
“Yes—”
“Please clean up after yourself,” Sarah told him crisply, before calling for Mairi. “You’ve left the milk out and the sugar all over the counter, Mairi,” she said in a mild yet firm voice as her daughter slouched downstairs. “Please tidy it up, and then we’ll think about tea.”
“I have homework, you know,” Mairi reminded her as she brushed the sugar onto the floor—not exactly tidying up—and hurled the spoon into the sink.
“Revision does not preclude responsibility,” Sarah replied. “Quite the opposite.” She handed her daughter the broom and dustpan. “That’s for the sugar that you just spilled onto the floor,” she added pleasantly.
Mairi let out a howl of something almost like an anguish. “You’re somean—”
“I’m not,” Sarah replied steadily. She was glad she was finally being firm. It felt good to get a little bit of herself back, if not the fundamentals. Those, she knew, had truly changed. “After you’ve tidied up,” she suggested, “why don’t we go out for dinner? Pizza Express has a midweek deal on. You can bring your revision and I’ll test you while we wait for our pizzas.”
Mairi looked surprised—Sarah had never been a proponent for this kind of extravagance—and Owen asked hopefully, “Is Dad coming?”
