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‘WE MIGHT AS WELL GET on with it, Tiff. Reggie can come along.’ Hettie glanced at her watch and lifted Reggie up from his play mat. ‘You’re going to come teaching with Mummy, little man.’
She pressed her face into Reggie’s neck. He smelt of milk and Johnson’s baby shampoo, and he gave a husky chortle when Hettie’s hair brushed against his cheek. Such a happy, laid-back baby. Hettie guided Reggie’s kicking feet into his winter all-in-one, checking that they made it all the way in. Zipped, buttoned and hooded until only his nose and his wide blue eyes peeked out, she sat him on the hammock of the baby-carrier and hoisted the state-of-the-art contraption onto her back, buckling the webbing straps over the top of her Puffa jacket. Reggie waved his arms and sucked in his breath when the cold outside air hit his face.
The horses looked over their stable doors, unaffected now by the sight of Hettie with a small person on her back. The grooms and the students had all become fluent in baby talk. They smiled at Reggie, stroked his cheek or waggled his hand in their own, going back to their work with a smile when Reggie had given them his gummy grin. No shortage of willing arms to hold this baby.
It was just as well he was laid-back and happy. Twenty horses watched Apache’s stolid march towards the arena, with the occasional nod of a well-brushed head and a breathy, passing whicker. As they walked into the building, the clatter and hum of the yard faded, to just the thud of Apache’s broad hooves, muffled on the rubber surface. No sign of spring yet in the winter-white sky that could be seen through the clear roof panels, but winter had been gentle this year, and they couldn’t have everything.
Reggie grew pink-cheeked in the draughty arena, but he laughed when Hettie bent to pick up a pole as she built a jump for Tiff and Apache. She wrapped her hands around Reggie’s feet.
Alexander must have been caught up with an emergency. He wasn’t usually late. The same couldn’t be said of her these days, dashing between Reggie’s two homes, or his grandparents’ houses, loading and lugging all the clutter that seemed to be essential to the life of a baby. She was sure she could remember a time when she’d been quite efficient. But, hey, maybe efficiency was overrated.
Hettie smiled. Life was good. Bloody good really, better than she’d expected. Who knew that a muddled, out-of-control existence could be this rewarding? ‘Excellent, Tiff! Once more in trot and then we’ll do it in canter.’
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THE LESSON WAS NEARLY over when Alexander pulled into the car park of Redfern Equestrian Centre in his new Range Rover. He’d traded the Aston. It hadn’t room for a baby seat and sported a boot too cramped for even the leanest of pushchairs. Hettie had ribbed him about buying a family car, but, happily, he’d been able to counter her jibes. Her precious Landy now sat in a barn at Draymere while she drove around in a hatchback full of nappies and sacks of horse feed. He shared a brief, slightly furtive, discussion with Zoe before she pointed him out to the arena.
Hettie and Reggie hadn’t seen him yet. He stood by the gate with his hands in his pockets and smiled as Reggie thumped a rhythm on Hettie’s head, his mittened hands trying to grasp her woollen hat. That hat, with her hair curling out from beneath it, made him think back to the first time he’d seen her on the yard, at Draymere. The pull of attraction was just as strong now as then. Maybe even stronger, if that were possible. But they hadn’t started out on the right foot. Possibly because he’d always known that his heart was in danger, not to mention his sanity.
No excuses for behaving like the prick that he’d been, but she’d beaten against his guard like an angry moth, and that guard had taken a lot of years to put in place. They’d been crashing across each other’s paths ever since, losing their footing on a route neither had chosen, careening downhill, off-piste... Alexander shook his head and pulled himself up. Was he still trying to twist out of the truth? All these far-fetched analogies, when the simple fact was that he’d been falling in love and fighting it at every step. But he wouldn’t change anything, either, because the last three years had got them to where they were now.
Although he was about to change that, wasn’t he?
Reggie spotted him. His son’s arms pumped the air, and his shouted ‘Da!’ made Hettie look up.
She waved at him. ‘Yes, there’s Da! Clever boy! Give me a couple of minutes, Tiff. Walk him on a loose rein.’
His heart moved as they walked towards him. Reggie’s arm pumping got more animated. He lifted him out of the carrier and settled him on his arm. ‘Hello, handsome. Sorry I’m late. We had a cock-up at the practice.’ He leant forwards to kiss Hettie’s cheek. She smelt of the clean outdoors.
‘There’s a bag in the kitchen with all his stuff. I think I put Hippo in there, but you’d better check. And the buggy’s in the porch. Do you need the carrier?’
‘I don’t think so. We’re seeing you tomorrow, anyway, aren’t we?’
‘Yes, but have you remembered that I’m competing first?’
‘Maybe we’ll come and watch.’
They paused in the rush of handover and smiled at each other. She caught his hand and her eyes warmed with meaning. ‘Maybe I’ll stay over into next week, so we can make up for lost time.’
Alexander looked away. ‘Oh. Yes, maybe. I can’t think that far ahead right now.’
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HETTIE WATCHED THEM go, blowing into her cupped hands to warm them. That hadn’t been the reaction she’d been expecting. She waved just before they went out of sight. ‘Right, Tiff, shorten your reins!’
Her eyes swept back to the gate as she marched across the arena. She needed to keep moving, the cold was creeping through her now. It had been a long time since she’d seen Alexander’s shut-off look.
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ALEXANDER CARRIED REGGIE up to the Hall. Mrs Dean was cleaning in the Gatehouse, and he adored the hoover, so not much cleaning had been getting done. He ran up the stone steps, bouncing his son in his arms, and Reggie rewarded his efforts with his odd, throaty chuckle. He needed to see Grace anyway, to check that his plans were in place, and he could use some of her confidence to bolster his bravado for the weekend ahead.
Grace was standing on the steps to the kitchen garden, dragging on a cigarette and waving the smoke away from the door with her other hand. Still dressed in her smart worksuit, phone clasped to her ear, she looked guilty when she spotted him. ‘Yes, the fête committee will sort that out. No, no...Yes, yes...’ She signalled gabber-gabber at him with her hand and looked heavenwards for a moment.
The cold air that followed her into the kitchen carried the whiff of tobacco. ‘Alexander! You caught me fag-handed. Remind me why I agreed to chair this bloody fête committee? Hello, gorgeous nephew, let me wash my hands so I can grab my broody fix.’
‘Because you’re the only one who was fool enough to do it, as well as going back to work. But, Grace, no one really believes you’d’ve let anyone else run the fête, even if they’d wanted to.’
Grace laughed, and plucked Reggie out of his arms. ‘Which reminds me, would you and Hettie be able to sort out the pony rides? Would Snoop be up to it?’
‘You’d better ask me again next week, but I think the old boy would be in his element.’
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LOCKIE SIDESTEPPED and plunged in the starting box, fretting the bit in his mouth and jagging the reins in Hettie’s hands. She rubbed her knuckles against his neck, the most she could offer as reassurance while she hung on to his head as they waited for the starter’s signal.
They needed to be off now, before Lockie lost it. This was always the worst part for him, until she could let him run...
The starter blew his whistle.
Hettie crouched low and the muscled horse beneath her leapt to fill the space she’d given him. But still she held the reins braced across his neck, blocking his impatient surge. The strength of his will strained her arms and dragged against her shoulders. He threw his head high as he fought her restraint. She waited out her moment; the beat of his hooves were erratic on the ground, but her body stayed in balance with his. The first jump came up too fast, and Lockie rushed it with an overlong stride. She sat through his scrambled heave of recovery, and they cleared the rustic fence.
Hettie unclenched her teeth. ‘It works better when you listen, Lockstar.’
The horse lowered his head a fraction, one ear twitched back and forth. It was all a case of timing, of knowing when to make him listen and easing off when he was working with her, when she could trust him to carry them safely on. It would come, when he found his courage, his belief in himself and in both of them.
The second jump was a drop fence, a little too soon on the course for Hettie’s liking, and Lockie swung his head as she leant back in the stirrups to slow him. A sensation of falling through air, she had to let the reins run through her fingers as Lockie stretched long to find his footing, surging forwards again as she wound the reins back in.
His pace was more rhythmic now. Her fingers unclenched as he settled beneath her. She guided him into the woods with a shift of the weight through her legs. His pace was a regular, solid, three-time beat as he carried them up the hill. They cleared the log in style, with barely a break in his flow of stride. Now they were off, united in their purpose, a team of two. And, oh, what a ride he was giving her. What a horse!
Alexander and Reggie stood near the finishing line as she galloped over it, her jodhpurs splattered with mud. Lockie’s sides heaved, and steam rose from his flanks as she eased him back to a jog. Alexander gave her a double thumbs-up and Reggie’s arms pumped the air. Hettie felt weirdly emotional. All three of her boys were here. How bloody lucky was she?
Alexander hugged her when she rode Lockie over and slid to the ground. Father and son were both rosy cheeked from the wind that cut across the open field. ‘Clear round. Well done! Bloody good time too, I would think, from the lick you set out at.’
Lockie stood beside them quietly, but his head was turned towards the horsebox, where his travelling mate, Snoop, stood waiting for him. Hettie grinned. ‘Thanks for coming to watch. You’d better get off now. It’s freezing brass monkeys out here.’ She stroked Reggie’s cheek with her still-gloved hand. ‘Tell Daddy to keep the bathwater warm for me. I won’t be long behind you.’
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HETTIE PICKED HER WAY through the four dogs and the muddle of plastic toys strewn across the rug in front of the sofa, evidence of the anarchy Reggie brought to the Gatehouse’s stern interior. It was anything but minimal now; she could barely see the floor.
She carried two mugs of tea, her curls still damp from the bath. ‘I ought to clear that up.’
‘Drink your tea. I’ll do it in a minute.’
She passed one of the mugs to Alexander and folded her legs underneath her as she settled on the sofa. His arm moved around her shoulder, her body snug in the curve of his, the embrace holding them in place.
They laughed together about Reggie’s bath-time antics and reviewed Lockie’s performance on the course that day, blowing on their tea to cool it. When their easy chatter paused, Hettie nudged him with her elbow. Her question was laced with lightness to mask the scurrying of her heart. ‘So, you can tell me now, Melton. What’s the big secret?’
His fingers tightened on her arm.
‘You’re keeping something from me, and we said we wouldn’t do that.’
‘What in God’s name gave you that idea?’
Hettie sipped her tea. It wasn’t an idea, it was a certainty, and his evasion made her edgy. Where would they go from here if the heartache started again? Neither of them had made promises this time, so there was nothing to be broken, and yet... The thought of the secret he might be keeping made her heart beat even faster. She looked at him full in the face. Didn’t he know that over-indignant scowl almost proved the lie?
He put his mug down and reached up to trace his thumb across her cheek, his lips curling in a rueful smile. ‘No secrets, okay? Trust me. Maybe a surprise...’
‘I don’t like surprises.’
‘Tough.’ He took her mug out of her hands and set it down on the side table, his hand coming back to rest on her hip. ‘You’ve had a busy day. Are you shattered?’
‘Totally.’
‘Too shattered?’ His palm spread across her thigh and he leant in towards her, his lips brushing gently on hers.
‘Of course not. That’s the only reason I come here.’ She felt the chuckle roll under his ribs as she wrapped her arms around him. She arched her body into his when his head dropped to her shoulder, felt the spark of instant heat when his lips grazed the base of her neck. Her hand grasped the cloth of his shirt as they fell back together. ‘But if I find out you’re keeping secrets...’
‘Hush.’
She let the warmth of his touch reassure with the certainty of his hands as they moved across her body. With his eyes locked on hers, he moved off the sofa and onto the floor. They laughed when the plastic toy he knelt on let out a plaintive squeak. Hettie folded her hands behind her head, and watched him as he swept the toys hurriedly into a basket.
With a lazy smile, she lifted her T-shirt over her head.
‘Temptress.’
‘I’m famous for it.’
His kiss was urgent now, his hand almost rough on her naked breast. When he pressed his face against the pale stretch of skin between her ribs, Hettie felt the rawness of his need, a need for more than lust, for her love and her acceptance. For her trust... for her forgiveness?
She prayed not.
‘Trust me,’ he had said, and at the moment she knew nothing else, so she would. She threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling his face away from her ribs, and twisting from the sofa to kneel beside him. Dropping her head to the dark hair above the waistband of his jeans, her fingers were urgent on the buttons and her mouth met his need with her answer. He groaned as she accepted him.
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ALEXANDER WOKE EARLY. It was still dark outside as he crept from the bedroom. Hettie didn’t stir. Reggie was awake, his garbled morning song a gentle call to action, his generous smile an uplift into the day. He rubbed his eyes in the half-light of the room and lifted Reggie from his cot. ‘Hello, Reg. Big day today, so let’s get you sorted out before we wake Mummy up.’
He carried a mug of coffee and Reggie back up the stairs, realised he’d forgotten to stir the sugar in and carried them back down again, holding the mug out of reach of his son’s wandering arms. Coffee sweetened, he took them back upstairs, then set the cup on the bedside table and Reg on the bed beside Hettie. ‘Morning, Mummy.’
She stretched and smiled. ‘Hey, Reggie. It feels too early for Sunday.’
Alexander pulled back the curtains, his view of the parkland still shaded grey, a suggestion of light in the mist that hovered through the dark silhouette of trees. ‘It is too early, but Reggie and I have plans. So you need to get up, lazy bones. I’m going for a shower.’
Hettie cuddled up to Reggie. ‘What?’
But Alexander had gone.
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HETTIE GRUMBLED AND huffed as she and Reggie and all four dogs were hassled out of the house and into the Range Rover. ‘I told you, I don’t like surprises.’
Alexander scowled as he tried to hurry her into the passenger seat.
She sat with a bump and dragged the seatbelt across her front, shoving it into the slot with a decisive snap. ‘And that look doesn’t cut it with me anymore. You don’t scare me, Melton.’
Alexander shut his door. ‘I’m not telling you where we’re going! Don’t you ever bloody give up?’
Hettie sat in silence, stiff in the leather seat, watching the scenery pass as the watery sun lifted over the countryside. She fiddled with the radio and found some music, twisting to reach through the gap between the seats to pick Hippo up when he landed in the footwell. She hummed along to the tune and found herself relaxing from the upset to her morning as the miles crept by.
Alexander wasn’t speaking much either, his attention focused on the road, his grip on the steering wheel firm.
She started taking note of the road signs when they’d been going for more than an hour. This wasn’t like Alexander at all. ‘Reggie will need changing soon. Have we got much farther to go?’
Alexander glanced in the rear-view mirror. ‘He’s sound asleep.’
Hettie gave up and looked out of the window as they skirted round Liverpool and crossed the border into Wales. The signposts kept coming: Rhyl, Conwy, Llandudno, and still Reggie slept in the back. Drizzle misted the windows and the metronome chant of the windscreen wipers became hypnotic. It was snug inside the car, a shelter from the falling rain and spray thrown up by the wheels of passing cars.
Hettie sat upright as they passed the next road sign. ‘We’re going to Porth Wen.’
Alexander didn’t take his eyes away from the road, but his fingers flexed on the steering wheel.
Hettie leant back into her seat. ‘Porth Wen. The place where we grew up.’
For the first time in over a hundred miles Alexander turned to look at her. ‘Yes. That’s right.’
‘Now you’ve got me worried.’
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘I thought I couldn’t scare you anymore.’
She didn’t answer him. Not only the place where they’d grown up, but the place where her momentous news had been delivered. Even the warmth of the car wasn’t enough to stop the shiver of chill that passed through her. The implication was clear. He needed her to behave like a grown-up, whatever this journey brought.
She turned her head to look at Reg. His head was tilted to rest on the cushioning around the baby seat, his little hands curled in his lap. His face was so innocent and untroubled in sleep. She wanted to touch him, but better not to disturb while all was quiet and peaceful.
Hettie faced front again. She didn’t have any choice really. She would be a grown-up for him, but if Alexander thought for a minute... She pulled herself up. Stop it. Wait until you know what you’re dealing with. Trust me, he had said.
That might take a bit of a leap at the moment.
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PORTH WEN WAS SHROUDED in mist. Alexander pulled the Range Rover off the road and cut the ignition. ‘Right.’ And he was out of the car, freeing the terriers, lifting Reggie from his car seat.
Hettie sat for a moment longer before she climbed out.
The gorse sprayed their legs with cold droplets of moisture and the mist engulfed them in dampness. Alexander carried Reggie inside his coat. The bulky bag that held Reggie’s nappies, bottles and Hippo bounced against Hettie’s side as she walked.
The windows of the cottage were lit. Hettie’s mind raced off in confusion. Were they meeting someone here? Why was the door unlocked? A panic of thoughts as they stepped inside and her eyes darted to the flaming log burner. Oh God, what if she just didn’t have it in her to behave like a grown-up? She almost shouted his name. ‘Alexander!’
‘Wait. I’ve got a speech ready, but something tells me this little man has a more pressing need.’
She grabbed Reggie from him. ‘I’ll sort that out. You deliver your speech.’
Alexander stood with his arms hanging loosely by his sides as Hettie knelt on the rug and laid Reggie on his back. ‘Would you like a drink or something?’
She didn’t look at him. ‘I’ve heard better opening lines.’
‘Fucking hell, give me a chance. I need your full attention.’
She finished the job and stood up, glaring at him. Her legs were braced, and she held Reggie tight. ‘All done. You’ve got it now.’ The fire crackled and the length of the rug and an easy chair filled the space between them.
‘Okay. Here goes. I bought you back here because, well, I think we’ve tried everything now. From fighting to shagging to mates and God knows what in between. We both fucked up, we know that—’
Hettie shook her head and frowned, putting her hand over Reggie’s ear. Reggie beamed his gummy grin, and the tension in the room lifted a little.
‘—sorry. I’m nervous, scared.’
‘Go on.’
‘I tried to get over you. To forget you and move on, because we gave each other heaven but we gave each other hell. And then you came to Porth Wen. I’d run as far as I could, and you were the one who came after me. So, now I’ve brought you back here, because, what I’m trying to say in my arse-about way, is that there is something we haven’t tried yet.’ Alexander reached into his inside pocket and, without taking his eyes off her, he dropped to one knee.
Hettie saw the small, square, black box in his hand. Her own hand flew to her mouth and started shaking when he dropped his second knee to the ground and opened the lid of the box.
‘Hettie Redfern, you’ve brought me to my knees now. Welsh gold, because Wales is where I finally learnt that loving you was never a choice. Not diamonds, because they’re conventional, and we’ve never been that. Rubies, for passion, and courage, and the adventure I want to share with you. Marry me, Hettie Redfern. Please.’
Hettie crossed the rug unsteadily and knelt down in front of him. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on his chest. ‘I haven’t got a speech, and I couldn’t match that if I had. But yes, Alexander Melton, yes and yes a thousand times over. I would love to marry you. What took you so bloody long?’
Alexander’s shoulders softened as Hettie folded into his arms, a sob caught up in their laughter, and Reggie squashed between them with his free arm waving and his old-man chortle making them laugh even harder.
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REGINALD WILLIAM HENRY Redfern-Melton. Or should that be Melton-Redfern. Either way, a lot of names for the tiny bundle of boy who burst into life just a few months ago. Reggie carried their statement happily enough. His own unique title, the names of his parents and those of both of his grandfathers. Forgiveness. Second Chances. New beginnings. A tiny baby with big blue eyes and a shock of dark hair. A significant name and a significant impact.
Reginald William Henry faced the future with innocent optimism, and he would grow up wrapped in love. And, later on, when his brother and sister arrived, there would be more than enough love to go round.
His parents believed they could keep Reggie safe from all of life’s dangers. They couldn’t, of course. Any life well lived will have its times of heartache and trouble. Mistakes would be made, and so they should be, because you can’t learn without making mistakes, and you must be brave enough to make them.
Reggie’s parents would do their absolute best, and their absolute best would be all Reggie needed.
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THE END
