Page 21 of The Holiday Cottage

“That too. But I don’t mind. I love seeing him—you know that. I worry about him. He’s working too hard.”

“He’s a brilliant vet.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have a social life.”

Sara looked at her, amused. “I think Miles is big enough to take care of himself.”

“Maybe.” But sometimes when you’d been hurt, you needed a nudge. She knew that. It was simpler and safer to protect yourself than take a risk again, and she had a feeling that was what Miles was doing.

Benson, having dutifully eaten all the food offered to him and gifted the girls with his best soppy look, wandered back to the rest of the herd, and Iris and Ava headed to the next paddock.

“I don’t see why I can’t ride too.” Ava was saying as they walked toward Thelma.

“I told you. Today is my turn.”

Ava thought about that. “I could just have a quick turn.”

Iris sighed. “Why does she never listen to no, Mummy? She argues all the time.”

“She’s persistent, that’s for sure.” Sara scooped up Ava. “No means no. Not maybe. And while Iris is riding, I need you to look after Bailey.”

“I want to watch Iris.” Ava wriggled and twisted, but Sara held her firmly.

“We will watch together.”

Dorothy slipped a head-collar over Thelma’s head and led her to the stable block. Mostly it was used for storage, but two of the stalls were kept for horses. One for Thelma, and one in case she had a call from Miles or one of the animal charities asking for her help.

Iris picked up the brush and started brushing the mud from Thelma’s coat with a practiced movement.

“You’re so muddy. What have you been doing?” She giggled as Thelma turned her head and gave her a gentle nudge with her nose.

Sara stepped closer so that Ava could stroke the pony. “Gently. And not near her eyes because she doesn’t like that.”

Ava stroked Thelma’s neck. “She’s soft.”

“It’s her winter coat. It helps to keep her warm.” Dorothy tacked up the horse, led her into the yard and helped Iris mount. “Hitch your leg forward while I tighten the girth.”

She made sure the saddle was secure and then walked with them to the small indoor school.

Ava was talking nonstop and Sara listened attentively, occasionally responding, asking Ava’s opinion and listening to the answer.

Dorothy felt a rush of love and pride. Sara was always engaged with the girls, and careful to be evenhanded with her attention. She treated them as individuals, but made sure they knew they were both equally important. And she never seemed daunted by the responsibilities of parenthood. She was kind, practical and remarkably relaxed.

Dorothy admired her. It wasn’t easy, she knew that. You did what you thought was right, but then when things went wrong you wondered what you could have done differently. How much of it was your fault. Nature versus nurture. She’d read so much about it in her search for answers. What could she have done differently? To what degree was she responsible for everything that had happened?

There were words she wished she’d never said. Wished she could unsay.

“Nanna?” Ava wriggled out of Sara’s arms and ran to Dorothy. “You look sad.”

She pulled herself together. “I’m not sad at all. Just a little cold. I’m thinking maybe hot chocolate would be a good idea.” She was grateful to have her grandchildren to bring her back to the present. “We’ll just wait for Iris to finish riding.”

“I’ll stay with her,” Sara said. “We’ll join you when we’re done.” She glanced at her daughter who was trotting round the school, a look of determination on her face. “Hands down, Iris! Shorten your reins. That’s good.”

“She’s a natural. Just as you were.”

“I loved it. The animals. The outdoors.” Sara paused. “It was a great childhood. The best. And you and Dad were wonderful parents. I know how much you miss him. I miss him too. Which is crazy, given how long it has been. Or maybe not so crazy.”

The memory of it made her eyes sting. Phillip taking Sara swimming in the sea for the first time. Dressing like Santa while he’d stuffed stockings just in case she’d peeped out of her bedroom and saw him. Teaching Sara to read. “He was proud of you, Sara.”

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