Page 75 of Coming Home to Sturcombe Bay
“Ah.” The school bell had rung. “Brace yourself.”
A few moments later the doors opened and a tide of small children flooded out, chattering and squealing excitedly, some of them running around playing chase, others heading straight for the waiting cluster of parents.
“Daddy!” Robyn came hurtling across the playground, clutching a piece of drawing paper. She threw herself against him, hugging his legs. “An’ Auntie Cassie.” Her bottom lip came out. “You wented away,” she accused.
“I did.” She smiled down at the child. “But I came back.”
“Where did you go?”
“To London.”
“We wented to London once. We wented on a big wheel that went round and round and round and you could see for miles and miles. And Daddy got a prize.”
“Oh?” She slanted him a questioning glance.
“It wasn’t just for me. It was for the Horse Rescue Society.”
“Oh, well done.”
“Thank you.”
“I drawed a picture of my pony,” Robyn announced proudly, waving the paper in her hand. The brown splodge with four legs in a row, a head and a tail was reasonably recognisable as a pony. It stood on a swathe of green — obviously grass — with a round yellow sun beaming down.
“Ah, that’s very good,” Cassie approved. “What’s your pony called?”
“Biscuit.”
“Biscuit?” She seemed to be having difficulty suppressing a laugh. “That’s a good name for a pony. Why is he called Biscuit?”
“Because he’s the colour of a biscuit.” The child spread her hands out, patiently stating the obvious as Cassie exchanged a glance of amusement with Liam.
“Ah, here are my two.” Amy and Noah had appeared at the door, their eyes lighting up when they saw Cassie.
“Auntie Cassie!” Amy ran up, smiling shyly, and slid her small hand into hers. She held up her picture. “I drawed a picture of my mummy getting married.”
“Oh, that’s lovely. How about you, Noah?”
“I drawed Superman!”
Cassie laughed. “Of course you did. Come on then, let’s go home for tea.”
“We’re just waiting for Ben,” Liam explained.
“Oh . . . Right. Well . . . um . . . I’ll see you tomorrow. Ten o’clock.”
He nodded. “Ten o’clock.”
* * *
Was this really a good idea? Cassie had her doubts. She argued with herself all the way as she walked down the hill and along the Esplanade, through the Memorial Gardens and past the hotel.
But the temptation was too great to resist. And not just the chance to ride Missie again.
Beyond the hotel was a low stone wall surrounding a paved front yard, with a wooden table and chairs and a few half-barrel tubs filled with flowers.
To one side was the house, a rambling, quirky, ivy-clad L-shaped cottage built of the local grey stone. It had once been three cottages, but they had been knocked together many years ago. The roofline was a jumble of square chimneys and dormers, every window being a different size and a different level.
To the side of the yard was a tall wooden gate that led into the stable yard at the back of the house, with a sturdy brick-built stable block around two sides.
