Finding Hope at Hillside Farm Read online

  ‘Hello, you.’ Lou looked up in surprise as Harry walked into the sitting room, removing his reading glasses and putting them down. He was leaning over the coffee table, reading the local paper. ‘Trouble at t’mill?’

  Harry shook his head. ‘Decided to take the day off. And I’m working from home tomorrow.’

  ‘I know someone who’ll be pleased to hear that.’ Lou put his glasses back on.

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Nipped to the shop to pick up some eggs, I think.’

  ‘I meant Hope!’ Harry laughed. He looked around the room. Jenny and Lou hadn’t even been there a week, and somehow they’d managed to make themselves at home. He ducked his head to avoid hitting it on a beam as he headed for the hall.

  ‘Here I am,’ said a small voice.

  ‘Good morning, again.’ He’d kissed her goodbye at five in the morning and set off. Now it was half nine – he felt like he’d been gone for hours – and the day had only just started for the rest of them. Hope was still fuzzy-haired in pyjamas.

  ‘Grandma’s gone to the shop.’

  ‘So I gather.’

  ‘Can we go to the gold mines?’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘There’s a gold mine near here. Look.’ She pulled out a leaflet from the basket which had been left by the cottage owners. He scanned it quickly.

  ‘It’s not open just now, sweetheart.’ The thought of spending hours stuck in a mine didn’t appeal. It was only a little white lie . . .

  ‘Oh.’ Her face fell.

  ‘Let me get out of these work things, and you get dressed, and we’ll go and find an adventure.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘You can choose.’

  ‘I want the gold mines.’

  Lou flicked a significant glance his way.

  ‘Maybe we could go and have a look,’ he said, realizing there wasn’t going to be an easy way out.

  Jenny had been delighted to see him – he was surprised she hadn’t had anything to say about him ducking out of work – and even more surprisingly, she’d been more than happy to let the two of them head off on an adventure to explore the area.

  ‘Don’t worry about us,’ she’d said, closing the door behind them. ‘I’m taking your grandpa for a nice lunch at the Lion, and there’s a bridge class in the village hall this afternoon. Maybe we’ll give it a go.’

  Bridge didn’t seem exactly Lou’s thing, but Harry let it pass. He made sure Hope was settled in the back of the car, and they headed off towards the gold mines.

  The roads were narrow and winding, but thankfully the signs for the gold mines were clear. They spent a lovely morning exploring the mines – despite his previous reservations – and Hope was delighted with the little nuggets of gold she managed to find in the water.

  ‘The man says they’re real gold, you know.’

  ‘Does he?’ Harry winked at her. Hope had chosen to ignore the part of the talk when they’d explained that the glittering they could see in the silt at the bottom of the water was fool’s gold – or iron pyrites, to give it the proper name.

  ‘I’m going to keep it in my box of special things.’

  He reached out his hand and she took it, skipping along beside him as they headed back to the car park. ‘What else have you got in the box?’

  ‘Mummy’s jewels, from when you got married. And a photo of a horse Grandma gave me. And an ammonite. That’s the curly one, you know the one that goes –’ She did a twirling motion with her finger.

  ‘I know the one you mean.’

  ‘Grandma said she should look after Mummy’s jewels but I took them back out of the box in her bedroom when she was downstairs.’

  Harry’s eyes widened slightly. ‘Maybe we could tell Grandma you’re keeping them safe, just in case?’

  Hope shook her head. ‘She gets worried about stuff like that.’

  They reached the car. Harry reached across, checking her seatbelt was fastened properly. He got in, and turned on the engine.

  ‘What d’you want to do now?’

  ‘Hot chocolate?’ Hope’s eyebrows raised.

  ‘Go on then.’ Jenny would probably disapprove, but never mind. And there was a nagging voice in the back of his mind that reminded him that being Hope’s parent was about more than just taking her out on adventures and being the village version of a McDonald’s dad, plying her with treats in the cafe.

  They drove back along the narrow roads, Hope fiddling happily with the tiny pieces of ‘gold’ she had collected.

  They parked in Llanidaeron High Street and made their way to the cafe. ‘Hello, young lady,’ said the woman behind the counter. Hope smiled shyly and ducked behind Harry’s legs, the way she used to when she was much younger.

  ‘You go and sit down over there,’ Harry said, pulling out a chair for her in the corner, where she liked to sit. ‘I’ll find two hot chocolates.’

  ‘Quiet, is she?’ The woman nodded in Hope’s direction.

  ‘When she feels like it,’ Harry laughed. There was a colourful pinboard on the wall, crammed with flyers for all sorts of craft classes and lessons, reiki healing circles, and all sorts of weird and wonderful things. Welsh village life seemed to attract a fair number of hippy types, if it was anything to go by.

  ‘We’ve got something for all sorts,’ the woman said, noticing him reading. ‘You don’t look like the knit-your-own-yoghurt type, mind?’

  Harry shook his head and laughed. ‘Not really my thing. I do a bit of carpentry, that sort of thing.’

  ‘We could do with someone to make a cabinet for this wall, if you’re after a job?’ She squirted cream on the top of the drinks and scattered tiny marshmallows on top.

  ‘Oh, it’s not my job,’ he said, handing over a note to pay for the drinks.

  ‘Pity.’ She handed back the change. ‘You two on holiday? The schools all seem to take different holidays nowadays. I can’t keep up.’

  ‘No, we’re staying at a cottage just up the hill.’

  ‘Oh,’ the woman said, and brightened. ‘You must be Jenny’s son-in-law.’ She reached out a hand. ‘We met the other day when she came in for a coffee. I’m Connie.’

  ‘Harry.’

  Her face puckered in sympathy. ‘Sorry about your –’

  He shook his head and picked up the tray with the two drinks on top. ‘It’s fine.’

  ‘Poor little lamb,’ Connie said, looking across at Hope. She was staring out the window, biting on her thumbnail. ‘How’s she settling in?’

  ‘Not too bad. We’ve just been to Dolaucothi, to the mines.’

  ‘Is she going to school after half term, or is she staying at home?’

  ‘Home?’ Harry frowned.

  ‘Oh, there’s quite a lot of the kids round here are home educated. There’s a group in the village that meet here once a week, you know.’

  ‘No, she’s starting at the village school. She wasn’t – Jenny maybe said . . .’ He tailed off.

  Connie nodded. ‘Yes, she said she’d had a hard time of it at school. Poor little chick. Well, the village primary is lovely. I bet she settles in a treat.’

  After they’d finished their hot chocolates, Harry and Hope wandered along the high street, trailing in and out of the shops, inspecting the contents of an Aladdin’s cave of treasures, poring over the books – new and second-hand – in the little bookshop, and picking up various interesting-looking jars of jam and crusty sourdough bread from the shop. Their last visit was to the post office, where the man behind the counter gave Hope a sweet from one of the old-fashioned jars, and Harry felt obliged to spend some money on something. He picked up a magazine for Jenny and a copy of the local paper for Lou.

  ‘See you again,’ called the man as they left.

  There was something naggingly familiar about the whole place, but he couldn’t think why.

  ‘Have you had fun, darling?’ Jenny asked when they arrived back at the cottage. She looked relaxed. She was sitting with her feet up on the
sofa, reading a book. Lou always joked that she travelled the world inside the pages, so they didn’t have to go anywhere.

  ‘I had a huge hot chocolate and we got spicy cheese,’ Hope said, waving a brown paper package at her Grandma. ‘And Harry says we can go to the cafe again after school next Tuesday and have more.’

  ‘Tuesday?’ Jenny frowned up at him, putting her book face down on the coffee table. ‘I think we’ve got to take Grandpa to the hospital for a check-up that day, sweetie. Maybe a different day?’

  ‘No,’ said Harry, firmly. ‘I’m taking her. There’s an art class.’ Jenny looked taken aback. He stood firm, and was gratified when Hope gave a decisive nod. Jenny lifted a hand to her hair, touching it carefully, as if checking it was still in place. He’d seen her do it before – an automatic self-comforting gesture, he remembered reading about such behaviours in the paper one Sunday. Jenny liked everything to be done just so, and by that she generally meant her way. It occurred to him once again that actually, perhaps trying to find a way to be more involved with Hope’s life could prove a battle of wills.

  ‘Oh, that’s fine,’ she said, after a moment. ‘But what about work?’ She lifted up a cushion and plumped it before setting it down beside her on the sofa.

  ‘I’m due some leave. I’ve told Kamal I’ll do a bit from here, dodgy wi-fi permitting, but he can manage without me. It’ll do him good to take the reins.’

  As soon as he’d emailed, he’d sent a message to Holly, who’d been triumphant and was taking all the credit.

  I’ll make a slacker of you yet, Macallan.

  Her reply had made him laugh. Funnily enough, the one thing he could never be accused of was that – not when it came to work, anyway. When he’d met Holly – Sarah’s childhood best friend – she’d laughed in surprise at his formal, neatly pressed work suit. It was a real contrast to Sarah’s laid-back hippy look and her own perennial art-student style. At home, Harry was most comfortable in a hoody and a pair of beaten-up old jeans, but he always made an effort to look respectable for work.

  ‘Well,’ Jenny said, after a moment’s pause. ‘That’s lovely news.’

  Harry couldn’t quite read the expression on her face as she lifted her mug of tea.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ella

  A few days in, and she already couldn’t imagine how she’d managed without Charlotte. The yard, which she’d exhausted herself trying to keep tidy as well as keeping up with paperwork, clients, horses and everything else, was now immaculately swept. Charlotte had been with her only a week but she’d already cleared out the waiting area, cleaned the fish tank and placed a vase of flowers on the desk. The consulting room was scented with a lemon and lime aromatherapy blend she’d bought from the health food shop.

  The now pink-haired Charlotte was hard at work grooming Tor in preparation for Brian, a retired bank manager who had a lifelong ambition to ride across the American plains on a Western-trained horse, complete with cowboy hat and checked shirt. The only minor setback was his fear of horses. So far his first two sessions had taken place outside the stable door, with an apprehensive Brian standing to one side commenting that Muffin, the small Welsh Mountain pony, was ‘surprisingly big, up close’.

  Muffin stood with his head over the stable door, waiting. His forelock was long and thick, hanging down almost to his nose, and he tossed his head in anticipation as he heard activity. There was a crunch as Brian’s Vauxhall pulled up onto the gravel drive and Charlotte sprang forward to open the gate.

  She patted Muffin on the nose on the way past. ‘You might make it out of the stable today, if you’re lucky.’

  There wasn’t any chance of that. Ella knew that the next step for Brian was to find the confidence to approach the pony, reach out a hand and discover that he wasn’t in fact a savage beast but a perfectly friendly creature. Muffin was used to the routine, and would wait patiently until the client plucked up the courage.

  ‘I’ve decided to take the bull by the horns today,’ said Brian. ‘Show him who’s boss. I’m not afraid.’

  He’d gone for the full cowboy look today and was wearing a pair of suspiciously crisp-looking jeans, clearly straight off the hanger. His checked shirt still had the fold lines from the packaging. It was a relief, Ella supposed, that he wasn’t actually wearing a stetson.

  He marched across the yard and put his hands on his hips. Looking for all the world as if he was about to draw out his pistol for a shootout at the O.K. Corral, Brian levelled his chin and looked at the pony, who gave a snort of alarm and stepped backwards, his head ducking out of sight so he stood in the gloom of the stable.

  ‘Where’s he gone?’

  Ella smiled despite herself. She stepped sideways so they were no longer facing head-on into Muffin’s stable, and she could see him visibly relax in the gloom of the box. His neck dropped, and one ear flicked backwards.

  ‘The reason horses work so well in the therapy work I do is that they respond to human behaviour. It’s like holding up a mirror.’

  Brian turned to look at Ella, listening attentively as always. She’d told him a lot of this when he’d first called to enquire about the work she did, not realizing at that point that Ella wasn’t running a sort of desensitizing programme for people with horse phobias, but was in fact a therapist. However, Ella knew that what Brian needed wasn’t actually that different to her usual work. There was more to his problem than a simple fear of sharp teeth or flying hooves.

  ‘Muffin relies on a stream of sensory data to sense whether he’s safe, or in danger. And he can hear the human heartbeat within four feet. If you’re standing there with your hands on your hips, you’re making yourself into a shape that looks threatening.’

  Brian’s arms dropped to his sides. He lifted a hand and scratched his head, looking anxious.

  ‘So he’s scared of me?’

  ‘He’s not sure what you’re up to, and he’s not going to hang around to find out. He’ll hang back, withdraw into the safety of his box.’ Ella clicked her tongue and the grey pony stepped forward, reaching his nose over the edge of the stable door. ‘It’s OK, beautiful.’ Ella stepped forward, extending the back of her hand gently, allowing Muffin to sniff it.

  ‘He’s like a dog!’ Brian was delighted.

  ‘He’s just checking me out, checking what we’re up to. He knows you’re apprehensive, so he’s picked up on that and he wants reassurance from me that there’s nothing to worry about.’

  Brian stepped forward, echoing Ella’s movement, holding out his hand.

  ‘It’s soft. I didn’t expect his nose to be so soft,’ he said, as Muffin gently nudged his outstretched fingers. He took another step forward so he was standing right up against the stable door. Ella noticed Charlotte standing to one side, the broom she had been using held still as she watched with wonder. Brian reached up and laid his other hand gently on the flat of Muffin’s neck.

  ‘Hello, there.’

  ‘How does that feel?’

  Ella never tired of this first stage. It was marvellous to watch people overcome their fears and anxieties and take a step into the unknown. She had seen collapsing marriages healed by the work she’d done with the horses, and people who had experienced awful trauma finding courage and strength from working with the beautiful, gentle animals here at her yard. It was an honour to be part of it.

  ‘Good.’ Brian’s face was lit up, his eyes bright with courage. ‘I feel good!’

  By the end of the session Brian had opened the door and spent half an hour in the company of Muffin, allowing him to sniff the brand-new jeans and the crisp checked shirt. He’d even picked up a brush and smoothed it through the pony’s long, thick mane. The next step would be for him to take Muffin out of the stable and walk around the yard. That would come at the next session. Brian seemed delighted with himself.

  ‘That American trip doesn’t seem so much of a pipe dream now,’ he said, handing over neatly folded notes – the exact amount, as always.


  ‘I’ll look forward to seeing the photos afterwards.’

  ‘You can put one up on the wall in here.’ Brian waved at the pinboard, recently re-organized by Charlotte, full of cards and notes of thanks from previous clients. Many of them came back to visit the horses long after their sessions were over. The bonds they made were precious and made Ella’s heart swell with happiness. Days like this made all the worrying over money and the trudging up and down to the fields through the mud worth it.

  ‘That was amazing,’ said Charlotte afterwards, twisting the lid off a bottle of Coke. Brian had headed off to the Lion for an early lunch, and the afternoon was free because they’d had a cancellation.

  ‘I love the idea of Brian heading out into the Wild West.’ Charlotte looked dreamily out of the window. ‘One day I’d like to do something like that.’

  Ella didn’t say anything. Years ago she’d dreamed of a trip out to the States, or of riding across South America. But that was before the accident and the end of her riding career. Now she kept both feet firmly on the ground. She’d recently had a note from her old friend Mel to say that Ruby, her dressage horse, had been retired; Mel had enclosed a photo of Ruby, shaggy-coated in a winter rug, peering over a wooden gate. They’d worked so hard to get to where they once were in the dressage world. But Ella had filled the space left by her losses with the horses here, and each of them had a special place in her heart. They were family to her. Particularly the beautiful Tor, who had also caught Charlotte’s eye.

  ‘D’you suppose . . .’ Charlotte ducked her head, breaking halfway through her sentence. She screwed the lid back on her drink and leaned down, shoving it into her rucksack. It was festooned with countless pin badges, scrawled on with black marker pen, and worn away at the corners so that the contents peeked out.