Page 94 of Coming Home to Sturcombe Bay
The girl nodded solemnly, taking in everything he was saying, though he had a print-out to leave with her. He sympathised. Colic was a nasty condition for horses. It must have been horrible for her to see her beloved horses rolling on the ground, sweating and clearly in pain.
“No grain feed for a few days. Watch their droppings. Feed them about a quarter of their normal amount of hay, walk them for about fifteen minutes several times a day, and turn them out to the paddock for an hour or so, building up to a couple of hours. Any concerns, ring me at once.”
“I will.” She brushed a tear from her eye. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“No trouble.”
The roan whickered and nuzzled against her cheek, and she stroked her hand down her neck. “Oh, Elsa. I’m so sorry I let you get ill.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Liam assured her gently. “I know your horses are very well cared for. It’s likely it was the change of feed that caused it.”
“We had to change it. The place we were getting it from has closed down.”
Liam nodded. “The thing is, if you have to change their forage, it’s best to do it gradually. Mix some of the new in with the old so their stomachs can get used to it. If you’d like to try them with organic feed, I’d recommend Cullens.”
“Cullens? Oh, yes. Dad uses them for the pigs. I didn’t know they did horse feed too.”
“They do the whole range. Anyway, I’ll come back on Friday.” He pulled out his phone and checked his appointments. “Two o’clock, if I can make it.” He folded up his ultrasound scanner and ran through the rain to stow it in the boot of his SUV, coming back for his equipment case and the disposal bag. “Goodbye then.”
“Goodbye.”
She stood waving to him as he drove away. The clock on the dashboard told him it was almost ten o’clock. It had been a long day, starting early with a call to another colic case, followed by acrashed horsebox on the main road. Fortunately, there had been no more damage than a bruised fetlock and a bit of a fright.
At least keeping busy had left him no time to think about Cassie. What could he have said? Whatshouldhe have said? An apology, at least? Or would she have taken that as an insult?
He had never intended it to be a one-night stand. He hadn’t really intended anything. He hadn’t been thinking at all. He had just let himself be swept away by his own need.
He had hurt her, and he regretted that, but perhaps it was a good thing after all. It had put an end, once and for all, to any forlorn hope that might be lingering that there could be some kind of relationship between them.
And now she’d soon be gone, back to the New Zealand sunshine, and he could try to find a way to go on with his life. He’d done it before — twice. He could do it again.
He shook his head, accelerating as he turned onto the main road, his headlights stabbing through the darkness, the windscreen wipers splishing and splashing against the rain. The only important female in his life was Robyn.
That thought was still uppermost in his mind as he turned into the front yard and parked the car, and splashed around to the back of the house. In the mud room, he kicked off his boots and hung up his dripping jacket, and changed his work clothes for something to relax in, then strolled into the kitchen to pour himself a coffee.
His mum and dad were watching television in the sitting room.
“Hi, Mum.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
She glanced up. “Ah, hello, love. You’ve had a long day.”
“Tell me about it.”
“If you want some dinner, there’s some lasagne in the freezer. You just need to pop it in the microwave.”
“Great, thanks. I’ll just nip up and look in on Robyn first. Did she go down okay?”
“No trouble.”
“Thanks.”
He climbed the stairs and walked quietly down the corridor. Robyn’s door was slightly ajar, the pink glow of the night-light spilling out, and to his surprise he heard her voice. He paused, listening — he could just see her without pushing the door further open.
She was kneeling up on her bed, talking earnestly to Hobo. The dog was sitting in front of her, very still, his whiskery grey head on one side, listening intently.
“. . . I could be a bridesmaid like Amy. And Amy says that when people get married they can have a baby, so if Daddy got married, I could have a baby sister too, like Noah.”
He reached out to open the door, but then drew his hand back.
