Page 74 of Coming Home to Sturcombe Bay
On his first day in the pre-school class — almost thirty years ago — he had met Tom Cullen and Paul Channing, and the three of them had bonded over a wooden construction set. They’d been best mates ever since.
They’d been in their final year when Paul’s mum had come back to teach there. She hadn’t taught their class, but Paul had come in for a lot of ribbing about it. One or two had even tried bullying him. Paul could have dealt with that on his own, but with his two friends beside him, the bullies had never stood a chance . . .
“Yes, he’s got a touch of arthritis, but he loves a little walk. And he’s a very good boy, aren’t you, Barney?”
Liam caught his breath sharply at the sound of that voice.Cassie? But . . .
If he’d had any thought of avoiding her, Hobo had other ideas, dragging him across so he could greet the little terrier in traditional canine fashion, the two of them quickly twisting their leads as they circled around, each with their nose to the other’s rear end.
Cassie laughed a little unsteadily as she untangled them. “Oh . . . hello.”
“Hello.” His jaw felt taut. “You’re back.”Oh, great.How’s that for stating the bleeding obvious?
“Looks like it.” She sounded just as tense.
“I thought you were going back to Australia?”
“New Zealand. No, well not yet anyway.”
Damn, what a stilted conversation! At Debbie and Bill’s wedding it had seemed that they were at last beginning to be a little easier with each other. And then Annabel had shown up.
Cassie was wearing slim-fitting jeans which moulded those long, elegant legs, and a sleeveless white T-shirt. And the subjective assessment of a grown man was that she looked pretty damn good.
“You’re staying for Tom’s wedding?”
“Oh, yes. I wouldn’t miss that for the world.” Her smiled looked forced. “The chance to see Tom Cullen all done up in his best smutter? Priceless!”
He managed a laugh. “Yes, it will be.” A long, awkward pause. He suspected that she was struggling as much as he was to find a topic of conversation that wouldn’t poke at tender spots. “How’s this lad?” he asked, hunkering down to tickle the little terrier’s favourite spot behind his ears.
“He’s doing well. He’s just been for a walk on the beach. Even managed to chase a seagull. You’d think at his age he’d have learned that he’s never going to catch one.”
“Oh, they never learn that. They always keep hoping that one day it’ll happen!”
She laughed at that, a little awkwardly. “How’s that horse I saw you riding on the beach?”
“The Bandit? He’s fine. He’s gone back to his training yard.”
“He was beautiful.” The smile seemed more relaxed, and there was a real warmth in her voice. “The way he moved — so graceful. What was wrong with him?”
“He’d torn a tendon. We gave him a carbon fibre implant.”
“Will he be able to race again?”
“He has a very good chance.”
“That’s good.” Another hesitation. “Do you still have Missie?”
“Of course. Though maybe it would be more polite to call her Missus now — she’s had two foals.”
“Oh, that’s fabulous.” Her eyes glowed with warmth. “I used to love that horse.”
“Why don’t you come over and visit her?” He spoke before he had really considered his words. “Julia rides her sometimes, but she’d be happy for you to take her out.”
“I’d love to.” Her face lit up. “Are you sure?”
“Of course.” Whatever impulse had prompted him to invite her, he was glad now that he had. “She can be a bit lazy, so it’s good to have her ridden on a regular basis.” He smiled. “Come over tomorrow. Around ten?”
“That would be great! Thank you.”
