Staying Grounded [BXB]

Two Steps Back

CRAIG:

How'd you fancy getting back on a horse today? Sebastian's text read.

And I replied: Would bloody love to!

But I was an hour late in answering his message. And I've lost a further half-hour waiting for Mum's return home to relieve Christopher from my care.

I'm on my way, I send before leaving the house, waiting several minutes for a follow-up from him. When nothing else comes through, though, I set out for the farm anyway. Mum's brought Kathryn back with her, and whether I get to ride or not, I know I'm better off escaping.

It's Judy who comes to the door when I knock, dressed in her scrubs ready for work, black braids tamed in a coil atop her head. "Craig," she smiles at me, opening the door only partway. Dobby's nose pokes curiously around the obstruction of her legs. "Sebastian mentioned I might expect you."

"Is he here?"

She shakes her head. "He left for the stables a while ago. Told me to tell you, should you happen to show, to meet him over there."

"Oh, okay. Uh..."

"Left at the gates, right at the T-junction. Strathall Stables should be signposted second turn on the right."

"Thanks."

"Have fun."

Five minutes later, I'm pulling into the stables' car park. The sun is bright, the sky is clear, and the smell that hits me as I climb out of Roxy is an altogether heady blast of good memory. It's been six years since I've been on a horse. My tenth birthday wish was to ride, and I received eight months of lessons before my dad decided that my free time would be better spent learning piano — something I could entertain with at parties.

I find it obscenely difficult to reign in my giddiness as I head for the reception building to sign in, and it's only when I step through its door that I realise I don't know what to sign in under. I also didn't think to check for Sebastian's truck outside.

The reception area appears to be little more than a storage shed, but it's exceptionally well-organised, with riding equipment and apparel lining each of its four walls and filling labelled bins on the floor. Shelves beneath the large corner desk to my right are lined with trophies, plaques, and rosettes, some framed photos dotted in-between; a till and a logbook rest alone on its surface.

A young girl perched on a stool behind lifts her head from the boot she's cleaning and flashes me a bright smile. "Hi."

"Hey."

"You have a booking?" Her voice has a soft lilt. It reminds me of someone I can't quite place. She looks just a touch on the young side to be appraising me with the brazen interest that she is, and I determinedly pretend not to notice.

"Not... exactly. I'm a guest of Sebastian. Sebastian Davis?"

"Really? Okay, sure, he's here someplace. If you could just sign in, please," she says, nudging the open visitor's book toward me. "And will you be hiring anything? I can sort you out now before you head through if you like?"

I obediently pick up the pen provided and jot down my name, seeing Sebastian's untidy scrawl two entries above. "I don't know, to be honest."

"Well, I can't tell you where Sebastian is. But I'll be right here should you need me."

"Thank you."

Flashing another face-splitting grin, the girl abruptly returns to her scrubbing. And I'm left to look about myself, feeling somewhat lost and sort of deflated.