Must Be Love by Cathy Woodman Page B

with dark shadows under his eyes, his cheeks shaded with stubble and his shoulders slumped with exhaustion.
    ‘If Bob the Builder should meet with an industrial accident right now, I’d be more than happy,’ he says.
    ‘Is he asleep?’ I shift over to let Alex sit down beside me. As soon as he’s settled, the length of his thigh against mine, his arms around me, our lips about to touch, something vibrates in his pocket – and no, it isn’t what you’re thinking.
    Alex pulls out his mobile and switches it on to loudspeaker.
    ‘Alexander, is that you?’
    ‘Course it’s me, Mother.’
    ‘You sound breathless,’ she says, sounding affronted. ‘Are you all right? Is Madge still with you?’
    He swears under his breath. I start giggling, I can’t help it.
    ‘Can’t Father go?’
    ‘He isn’t so good.’
    ‘He was fine earlier.’
    ‘He’s overdone it. Won’t admit it, of course. Anyway, it’s one of Delphi’s and she’s asked for you.’
    I don’t believe Sophia. She’s doing this deliberately, determined to drive a wedge between me and her son. Well, it won’t work.
    ‘It’s the horse you saw on Christmas Eve,’ Sophia goes on. ‘Delphi looked in on it after the party and it’s taken a turn for the worse.’
    ‘Tell her I’m on my way,’ Alex says, cutting the call. ‘I’m sorry, darling.’ He kisses my cheek and drags himself away. ‘Duty calls.’
    It crosses my mind after he’s gone that I might have gone with him. Sophia could have looked after Seb and Lucie. However, when I glance down at my legs, sheathed in dark silk, I realise I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion. Instead, I wait for Alex on the sofa, tucked up in the faux-fur throw I stole from his bed. I can’t sleep for thinking of him, of him and Delphi Letherington alone together in a stable in a deep bed of straw … I give myself a mental slap. I’m tired, a little drunk and my mind is playing tricks on me.
    I must have fallen asleep eventually, because I’m woken the same morning, not by Alex or the children, but with a bang. (I should be so lucky!) I jump up, and run upstairs to grab Alex’s robe so I can cover up before I look out of the window.
    Old Fox-Gifford is standing in the middle of the yard in one of those Wee Willie Winkie nightcaps, a big coat over his striped pyjamas. He has a stick in one hand and a smoking gun in the other. The dogs mill around a bale of straw on which are lined up the bodies of several rats. A cockerel crows in the distance and Sebastian joins me in Alex’s bedroom, crying for his mummy. People move to the country to find peace and quiet. However, as I try to calm Sebastian down, I find myself contemplating a return to the city.
    I didn’t intend to spend the New Year wiping noses and pouring out bowls of Coco Pops, but I find myself warming to Lucie and Seb when they start talking about their lives.
    ‘I like being with Daddy, and I like being with Mummy as well,’ Lucie pronounces sadly while Seb stares wistfully into his bowl of cereal. ‘Mummy won’t let me take my pony to London.’
    ‘I can’t say I’m surprised, Lucie. Can you imagine taking your poor pony to live in the city? He’d hate it. There’d be no room for him to gallop about and stretch his legs.’ An image of a Thelwellian pony ordering a latte in Starbucks springs to mind and I suppress a smile.
    ‘I s’pose not.’ Lucie looks at me with what I hope is new-found respect at my knowledge of horses. ‘Have you got a mummy and daddy, Maz?’
    ‘Sort of. My mum lives in London. My dad’ – it never gets any easier to talk about him – ‘well, I don’t know where he is.’
    ‘Is he dead?’ Lucie says, wide-eyed. Then before I can answer, ‘I’ve seen a dead pony before, and a cow. My daddy killed them. He’s a vet.’
    ‘I know. So am I.’
    ‘Do you kill animals too?’
    ‘That’s only a small part of the job,’ I point out, and Lucie’s off again, running upstairs to change into her