Distraction

Chapter Nine

Libby laughed, blushing a little. 'So we're clear, this tramp isn't brilliant with kids. Now go and enjoy your day out.'

'Hey, less of the orders. Remember who's in charge.'

'Is Libby in charge now Mummy's not here?' Matilda asked with all seriousness.

He walked away shaking his head, telling Matilda off for ruining his attempt to be professional. Libby collected the wheelbarrow, unable to stop grinning.

And she couldn't all day.

By four o'clock, she'd taken to singing along to the radio and an old Beyoncé track had her itching to dance. To her horror, as she hung a hay net for Smokey, a shadow fell over the stable. She turned to confirm her fears and sure enough, Robbie leaned against the door frame, trying not to laugh.

'Oh, so you are a pop star like Hannah Montana.'

'I dance too,' she said, pushing a wayward purple strand off her face. 'Have you had a nice day?'

'Yes. You didn't ring.'

'I said I'd ring you if I needed you. I didn't need you.'

He wandered around, peering into the water buckets she'd scrubbed that morning, checking the hay nets she'd filled ready for the horses in coming in, but he frowned when he noticed the cobweb free ceiling in the tack room.

'I hope you don't mind,' she said, 'but I was at a loose end so I tided the tack and feed rooms a bit. Sorry if you can't find anything.'

'But what about taking Storm out? I said-'

'Oh, god, we had the best ride this afternoon. She's awesome. And this morning, Dolomite actually did some half-decent twenty metre circles...'

She twittered on, as she tied up the remaining hay nets, telling him about Max almost knocking her over, Ebony pinching the Polos from her pocket and Storm clearing the river on the common. It'd been the best day.

He studied the list. 'You cleaned the tack room and the feed room?'

To her surprise, when she nodded his frown deepened. 'Sorry, would you rather... It's just I don't like sitting around.'

He wandered over to the house, shaking his head. 'I knew you'd be trouble.'

How was she trouble? She'd crossed off everything on his list. How could he be mad at her? Oh, please don't be mad at me.

But then he turned, almost smiling. 'Tea?'

It had to be the best first day at work she'd ever, ever had. Ever.

'Want one?' Robbie asked as he wound a corkscrew into a bottle of Rioja.

Want one? Was he serious? Libby hung up the tack room key, stalling. Say no, and leave. In an hour and a quarter, a very cute policeman would turn up at Maggie's cottage to take her to dinner, and god, did she need the mental relief, a distraction from Robbie Golding.

After day one, she'd thought he was easy-going, fun, the perfect boss, but on day two, she'd turned up, wearing a Little Miss Trouble t-shirt, thinking it'd make him smile. It didn't. He'd glanced up from his newspaper, taking the time to look her over, scowl and say, the list's on the side. Mr Golding, it turned out, could be an utter grumpy arse at times.

At times - that was the problem.

Although each morning, he'd barely speak to her, a smile seemingly impossible, when he came home just before four o'clock, he'd make her a cup of tea, steal a cigarette and they'd chat about the yard. He was definitely testing her knowledge and she'd hardly describe him as friendly, but despite being able to ride, school, jump the amazing horses, that afternoon, she'd found herself clock-watching, eager to see him.