Page 43 of The House at Hope Corner
Fifteen minutes later however, she no longer cared as they crested the hill and the countryside opened up in front of her. It made every moment of the uncomfortable ride up there worthwhile. The land was still seasonally bare, but even in winter it couldn’t hide its majestic beauty; swathes of bright yellow gorse followed the line of one slope, while on another, a purple haze from the heather that grew there. More than anything she wished she could climb from her horse and immerse herself in it, but she knew it was a futile desire. No one around her even seemed to notice the glory that surrounded them, and so she consoled herself with the knowledge that she could always come back another day, on foot.
Even with the wind whistling around them, Flora would have liked to stay up on the ridge for longer, but within moments the party was on the move again, turning directly back down the hillside as they followed a path through the gorse. By necessity, the horses fell into line, each following the other and, for a moment, conversation became next to impossible. Suddenly there was a burst of movement from the head of the line and a peal of laughter rang out. Flora sensed what was going to happen but, before she had time to even think, she felt Samson’s muscles tense for a split second before they took off at speed, following the other horses. Catapulted forward, she just managed to cling onto the horse’s neck as they shot down the slope, her thighs slapping horribly against the leather of the saddle. And bit by bit, the peak of her hat began to slip down over her eyes, lower and lower, until she could no longer see.
She clung on for grim death, blinded, and with the sound of her blood rushing in her ears, until by some miracle they finally came to a stop. How on earth had she managed to stay on? She pushed the hat up from her eyes and a wave of embarrassment swept over her. The others looked so composed and relaxed and she suddenly realised that, despite what it had felt like, they had hardly been going at speed at all. A canter possibly, but more likely just a trot. She felt her cheeks begin to burn.
Caroline turned and rode back towards her. ‘Well, look at you! Well done! Sorry… Georgia’s horse took off. It’s what we normally do here and the others just followed her lead before I could stop them, but you did ever so well. Did you enjoy that?’
Flora’s heart lifted a little; perhaps it hadn’t been as bad as she had feared. But then it sank again even more rapidly. Caroline was simply trying to be kind, that was all.
She gave as bright a smile as she could muster and nodded, even though her heart was still racing and her shoulders beginning to ache.
From then on she gritted her teeth the whole way home and, just over an hour later, they arrived back beside the stable block. The girls slipped from their horses with practised ease, leaving Flora grappling with the tricky problem of how to dismount. In the end, the stable boy came to her rescue yet again.
Relieved to be back on solid ground at last, she looked around to see where the others had got to. They were huddled together a little distance away but, as Flora caught Georgia’s eye, the haughty smile on her face faded as she realised Flora was looking at her. She could tell from Caroline’s posture that whatever Georgia had said was hugely funny and, as Flora thanked the young stable boy for his help and walked towards them, she was struck by a sudden flash of insight. They were laughing ather.
Today wasn’t about helping her to acclimatise, or giving her the opportunity to learn to ride, and neither was it about making friends. Everything about today had been orchestrated; from making such a fuss about her clothes to the carefully engineered conversations designed to make her feel left out. The speedy descent of the hill was no accident either. Caroline knew she couldn’t ride and had shown her off to be the laughing stock she was. And worse, she had fallen for it. Taking their kindness and encouraging comments as genuine when in fact, as her chance catching of Georgia’s eye had revealed, they were nothing of the sort.
A wave of angry hurt washed over her, but without her own car she was at Caroline’s mercy for transport home, so it was another hour before she was finally able to reclaim her clothes, sit through the silence of the car ride back and slink through the door of the farmhouse. She would have collapsed in a chair and cried had her backside not been so sore.
Chapter Fifteen
Flora leaned back in her chair and looked around the room. She didn’t think she had ever been anywhere quite so soothing before. From the elegant colour palette of soft greens, powder blues and delicate pinks to the clean lines of the simple, unfussy furniture, everything was beautifully put together.
From the outside, Grace’s home appeared to be a rambling series of white-washed buildings glued together at different angles and heights, but once inside, some very clever artistic touches had made the most of the building’s originality and quirkiness and Flora had spent the first few minutes there staring around her in open-mouthed awe. It was worlds apart from the farm’s dark colours and heavy oak furniture, and there was something about it that spoke to Flora’s soul like an old friend.
Here, at last, was somewhere she didn’t feel out of place with her bright clothes and wild hair, and Grace’s warm welcome had already done much to dispel the memories of the morning’s intense cleaning. She could still smell bleach, despite the beautiful vase of heavily scented lilies that sat on the table in front of her. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, feeling more relaxed than she had in days.
‘Here we go,’ said Grace, entering the room with a laden tray and heading for the table. ‘I found us some biscuits too. And you, if you don’t mind me saying so, look like you could do with some sugar.’
Flora pulled a face. ‘Is it that obvious?’ she said.
‘Only a little,’ replied Grace generously. ‘And don’t worry, I only know because I recognise the signs. Tough morning?’
‘You could say that. And I must apologise for the smell… It’s Eau de Dettol!’
Grace gave Flora an appraising glance. ‘First things first,’ she said. ‘How’s Fraser?’
‘A lot better than yesterday,’ answered Flora truthfully. ‘Which was absolutely awful. I think it scared us all, seeing Fraser so frail. Today, things seemed a little better.’
‘But?’
Flora smiled. ‘Again, is it that obvious?’
Grace didn’t reply but began to pour the tea before picking up a plate and offering Flora a biscuit. ‘Take two,’ she said. ‘Otherwise I shall be forced to eat them all myself.’
It was a moment or two more before Grace finished pouring and handed Flora a cup. She took one for herself and settled in a nearby armchair with her own mug.
‘So, let me guess, Hannah has now sterilised everything within a ten-mile radius of the farm and woe betide anyone who touches anything.’
‘How did you know? Did your bees pick up the scent of disinfectant on the wind?’
Grace laughed out loud. ‘No, don’t forget I know Hannah of old and it’s always been her reaction to a crisis. Clean everything to within an inch of its life. I can imagine how all this has sent her into overdrive.’
‘And some. We all have different ways of coping, I know that. And at least today Hannah is feeling more positive instead of taking to her bed, even if she has driven me absolutely mad. But if I thought my muscles were sore from riding, it’s nothing to what Hannah has put me through.’
‘So, you’ve been riding as well? Blimey, you poor thing. You have had a rough few days.’
Flora grimaced. ‘Yes, well I don’t think I’ll be going again, so that’s a relief. Not only was I spectacularly bad but… how can I put this…’
