you know how much those animals weigh? You could have been killed.’
I’d already thought of that. A moment’s carelessness, a tumbling earth-mover and I could have become the body in the peat. It could have been me lying on the steel trolley today, being probed and measured and weighed by the good Dr Renney.
‘And it’s illegal,’ he added.
Oh, give me a break. It had been illegal in Wiltshire too, but when had that ever stopped a Hamiltonwoman? Mum and I had buried dozens of horses over the years. I wasn’t about to stop now.
‘You’re home early,’ I said, pointing out the obvious.
‘Andy Dunn phoned me. Thought I should get back here. Jesus! Have you seen the state of the field?’
I turned my back on Duncan and walked through to the kitchen. I tested the weight of the kettle and flicked the switch. Beside it stood our bottle of Talisker. The level seemed to have gone down considerably. But then again, I’d just come from the pub myself, hadn’t I? Who was I to get preachy?
A movement behind me made me jump. Duncan had followed me into the kitchen.
‘Sorry,’ he said, putting his arms around me. ‘It was a bit of a shock. Not quite the welcome home I’d expected.’
Suddenly, it all seemed more manageable. Duncan, after all, was supposed to be on my side. I turned round so that I could put my arms around his waist and drop my head against his chest. The skin of his neck smelled warm, musty; like paper fresh off the mill.
‘I tried to phone,’ I said lamely.
He let his chin drop so that it rested on the top of my head. It was our favourite hug pose, familiar, comforting.
‘I’m sorry about Jamie,’ he said.
‘You hated Jamie,’ I replied, nuzzling into his neck and thinking that one of the best things about Duncan was that he was so much taller than I. (Oneof the worst was that his jeans were two sizes smaller than mine.)
‘Did not.’
‘Did too. You called him the Horse from Hades.’
‘Only because he repeatedly tried to bring about my demise.’
I leaned back to look him in the face and was struck, for the millionth time, by how bright blue his eyes were. And by how gorgeous a contrast they made with his pale skin and spiky black hair. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Well, let me think. How about the time he got spooked by some cyclists on Hazledown Hill, leaped into the air, spun a 180-degree turn, shot across the road in front of the vicar’s new convertible, and took off down the hill with you yelling “Pull him up, pull the fucker up!” at the top of your voice.’
‘He didn’t like bikes.’
‘Wasn’t too keen on them myself after that.’
I laughed, something I couldn’t have imagined myself doing just half an hour earlier. Nobody, my whole life, has ever been able to make me laugh the way Duncan can. I fell in love with Duncan for a whole host of reasons: the way his grin seems just a little too wide for his face; the speed at which he can run; his complete refusal to take himself seriously; the fact that everyone likes him and he likes everyone, but me most of all. As I say, there were a whole load of reasons why it all started, but it was the laughing that kept me in there.
‘And what about that time we were crossing the Kennet and he decided to roll?’
‘He was hot.’
‘So he gave me a cold bath. Oh, and—’
‘OK, OK, you’ve made your point.’
He tightened his arms around me. ‘I’m still sorry.’
‘I know. Thanks.’
He pushed me away from him and we made eye contact. He ran the side of his hand down my cheek.
‘Are you OK?’ He wasn’t talking about Jamie any more.
I nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘Want to talk about it?’
‘I don’t think I can. What they did to her, Dunc . . . I can’t.’ I couldn’t go on, couldn’t talk about what I’d seen. But that didn’t mean I could stop thinking about it. I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to stop thinking about it.
Women in the first few days after childbirth –
I’d already thought of that. A moment’s carelessness, a tumbling earth-mover and I could have become the body in the peat. It could have been me lying on the steel trolley today, being probed and measured and weighed by the good Dr Renney.
‘And it’s illegal,’ he added.
Oh, give me a break. It had been illegal in Wiltshire too, but when had that ever stopped a Hamiltonwoman? Mum and I had buried dozens of horses over the years. I wasn’t about to stop now.
‘You’re home early,’ I said, pointing out the obvious.
‘Andy Dunn phoned me. Thought I should get back here. Jesus! Have you seen the state of the field?’
I turned my back on Duncan and walked through to the kitchen. I tested the weight of the kettle and flicked the switch. Beside it stood our bottle of Talisker. The level seemed to have gone down considerably. But then again, I’d just come from the pub myself, hadn’t I? Who was I to get preachy?
A movement behind me made me jump. Duncan had followed me into the kitchen.
‘Sorry,’ he said, putting his arms around me. ‘It was a bit of a shock. Not quite the welcome home I’d expected.’
Suddenly, it all seemed more manageable. Duncan, after all, was supposed to be on my side. I turned round so that I could put my arms around his waist and drop my head against his chest. The skin of his neck smelled warm, musty; like paper fresh off the mill.
‘I tried to phone,’ I said lamely.
He let his chin drop so that it rested on the top of my head. It was our favourite hug pose, familiar, comforting.
‘I’m sorry about Jamie,’ he said.
‘You hated Jamie,’ I replied, nuzzling into his neck and thinking that one of the best things about Duncan was that he was so much taller than I. (Oneof the worst was that his jeans were two sizes smaller than mine.)
‘Did not.’
‘Did too. You called him the Horse from Hades.’
‘Only because he repeatedly tried to bring about my demise.’
I leaned back to look him in the face and was struck, for the millionth time, by how bright blue his eyes were. And by how gorgeous a contrast they made with his pale skin and spiky black hair. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Well, let me think. How about the time he got spooked by some cyclists on Hazledown Hill, leaped into the air, spun a 180-degree turn, shot across the road in front of the vicar’s new convertible, and took off down the hill with you yelling “Pull him up, pull the fucker up!” at the top of your voice.’
‘He didn’t like bikes.’
‘Wasn’t too keen on them myself after that.’
I laughed, something I couldn’t have imagined myself doing just half an hour earlier. Nobody, my whole life, has ever been able to make me laugh the way Duncan can. I fell in love with Duncan for a whole host of reasons: the way his grin seems just a little too wide for his face; the speed at which he can run; his complete refusal to take himself seriously; the fact that everyone likes him and he likes everyone, but me most of all. As I say, there were a whole load of reasons why it all started, but it was the laughing that kept me in there.
‘And what about that time we were crossing the Kennet and he decided to roll?’
‘He was hot.’
‘So he gave me a cold bath. Oh, and—’
‘OK, OK, you’ve made your point.’
He tightened his arms around me. ‘I’m still sorry.’
‘I know. Thanks.’
He pushed me away from him and we made eye contact. He ran the side of his hand down my cheek.
‘Are you OK?’ He wasn’t talking about Jamie any more.
I nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘Want to talk about it?’
‘I don’t think I can. What they did to her, Dunc . . . I can’t.’ I couldn’t go on, couldn’t talk about what I’d seen. But that didn’t mean I could stop thinking about it. I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to stop thinking about it.
Women in the first few days after childbirth –
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