Part 42 (2/2)

'What about Francesca?

'Oh, youll not believe this; she took a s.h.i.+ne to Marilyn and offered to do a promotion for the local donkey centre. The press was there and she was photographed cuddling hugely photogenic baby donkeys. She was a ma.s.sive hit and now does a lot of fund raising for them and donkeys in general. Tons of good publicity of course, which does her no harm at all, but I think she enjoys it. And, more surprise, shes very big in Spain.

'What? Is it our revenge for the Armada?

'They love her over there. Shes always das.h.i.+ng off to do photo shoots and things. Daniel often goes out to join her.

'Theyre still together, are they?

'Very much so. I paused. 'A lot of people learned a lot that night. Oh, youll never guess Mrs Crisp has a boyfriend.

He stopped dead and I walked into him.

'No! he said, as we sorted ourselves out.

'Yes. Its the a.s.sessor from the insurance company. He turned up to inspect the damage and a.s.sess the claim. He kept coming back with all these silly questions. Russell was going mad thinking they were trying to wriggle out of paying and was barely even civil to the poor man, and then it turned out that Mrs Crisp was the attraction. He cant keep away. His name is Bill and he takes her out every Sunday. She stayed out overnight once and didnt turn up until after breakfast the next morning and we all had to pretend shed just overslept. Russell is worrying hes going to have to do the ”What are your intentions?” speech.

'Whos ”we all”?

'Well, Kevins still with us, but not for much longer. Sharon has seen suitable premises for her cup-cake shop, with living accommodation over the top. We loaned them a bit of money. No idea whether it will be a success or if Kevin will get a job after college, but theyre young. Theyll cope.

'Whereas you, of course, Jenny, are almost completely over the hill.

'I consider myself to have reached the age of mature reflection, if thats what you mean.

'So, what else?

'Youre insatiable, arent you? Not a lot, really.

He sighed. 'I mean, Jenny, what about you?

'Oh, me. Well, Im in the process of selling the bookshop. A national chain, you know the one, has made me an offer Im going to accept. And I did a bit of work with Daniel on his TV series. It was really interesting. I loved it. And we may do another about Queen Isabella. You know, The She Wolf of France. And I ride a lot. I paused. 'Did you send him?

'Who?

'The other Thomas.

'Certainly not. How could I? I simply caused a few things to happen.

I remembered Russell telling me about the mare Id so nearly had. 'But as soon as I saw this fellow, I knew he was the one for you ...

'And see how well it all turned out.

By now, we were pa.s.sing the Braithwaites farm. Martin stood by his back door, mug in hand. I waved.

The sun was coming up over the hill as we stepped out on to the moors. Another bright, golden day was being born. Although not as bright and golden as Thomas himself, looking down at me with love in his eyes.

'So, what about you, Thomas? Are you well?

'Of course.

'And your little boy? Did he ...? Was he ...?

'No.

There was a world of pain in that short word.

I stopped.

'Oh, Thomas.

He sighed. ' I did what I could. It wasnt enough. Its never enough. He was so small. But I was able to take away his pain and his fear at the end.

I felt my own eyes fill with tears. 'Im so sorry.

'It happens, Jenny. More often than I would like. There isnt usually a happy ending. In fact, I can only ever recall one.

Poor, poor Thomas. Who gave his all. Every time. Who never stinted. And who almost always failed. I stood on tiptoe and kissed his forehead. 'Its good to see you. Why have you come?

'I left you more suddenly than I wanted to. There were still things to say. And I missed you. And I thought you might like to see this.

We started forwards again. I rested my hand on his shoulder, feeling his warmth and strength. Trying to find the courage to come out and say it ...

'Thomas, would you like ...?

I stopped, suddenly. We breasted the top of the hill and there, spread over the valley before me a whole herd of huge horses of every colour. Flas.h.i.+ng chestnut, creamy white, glittering silver, rich dark brown. Beautiful horses. Beautiful, big, strong horses. Some stood in small groups with their heads close together; some grazed, one or two drank from the stream, some stood quietly and alone, perhaps quietly enjoying the early morning sun. A s.n.a.t.c.hed moment of peace.

Above them all, on the hill, stood a solitary horse, far bigger than all the others, coal black, still and watchful. The King Horse.

But there was only one golden horse. My Thomas, standing quietly at my side, watching me watch them.

My heart swelled at the beauty and majesty of them.

'Thomas ...

He said, 'This doesnt happen very often. I thought you might like to see it. You could call it a works outing, I suppose.

On the hill opposite, the black horse shook his head and stamped his foot. I felt the ground tremble.

'I must go.

No, he mustnt ...

'Wait. Thomas, I wanted to say ... you dont have to be alone. Your little boy died and youre sad, but you dont have to be alone. Why dont you come and see me, just every now and then? When you need to talk. Or if you dont want to talk, if things have gone badly, just to be with a friend. I dont want to lose you. I hadnt realised, until I saw you again ... And I owe you so much. Let me repay a little. Please. Dont let this be the last time we see each other.

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