Читать книгу A Place Called Home - Eleanor Jones - Страница 13

CHAPTER FOUR

ELLIE STARED CRITICALLY at her painting, comparing it to her experience of seeing the cub being set free. Had she caught the fox’s expression, fear and ferocity firmly linked?

She felt Andy’s arm around her again, connecting them in the emotional moment when the wild creature finally ran free. He’d followed her when she’d said her goodbyes, leaning in through her car window to ask for her number. “For old times’ sake,” he’d said with a smile.

“Our old times are long gone, Andy,” she’d told him, clamping down a rush of emotion as all the painful memories kicked in again. Then she’d turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared into life, defusing the situation. “See you,” she’d called, forcing a lighthearted tone and pulling away. She’d seen him in her mirror, shading his eyes to watch her drive off, then she rounded a corner and he was out of sight.

There was no doubt in her mind that what she’d told Andy was true. Their old times were long gone, and he was well in the past. So why, she asked herself, did she feel this unexpected longing for everything they used to have? Nostalgia, she supposed. Nothing more.

Ellie turned away from the painting, trying to shake her confusion. Today she was facing up to another part of her past by going to see her dad. That was was what she needed to focus on now, rekindling the father-daughter relationship that tragedy had torn apart.

Yet as she drove out of the city a few hours later, Ellie found her mind wandering back to Andy. Busy roads and concrete gave way to the gentle greens of wide-open countryside, and she couldn’t stop the flood of memories. She and Andy had been together almost all of their teenage years, an inseparable couple, loving the same things, loving each other. Of course she had regret for what they’d lost. Perhaps she should have kept in touch with him, for old times’ sake. But she couldn’t let go of what he’d done to her, and he’d probably done the same to others since. No matter how well he came across, Andy Montgomery was shallow and selfish. What was in the past should stay in the past.

Hardening her heart, she turned her thoughts to her dad and the stud. Excitement at seeing home and all the horses and animals there washed over her. No matter how unsociable and unwelcoming her dad proved to be, she wouldn’t let him get to her. It was time to build bridges, and nothing was going to stop her.

Another hour passed by, and familiar landmarks dotted the landscape—lakes sparkling in the midday sun, looming hills and clear, endless skies. When the road narrowed to a single, fenceless track and she had to stop for an amber-eyed, wild-looking Fell sheep, Ellie knew that she was home.

She drove through the quaint stone village of Little Dale, past Low Fell Veterinary Clinic and the busy market, then up the steep fell side again, dropping down to follow the road that meandered around the lake. Butterflies fluttered madly in her chest. What if her dad didn’t want to see her? What if he turned her away? Three years ago, when she’d visited at Christmas, the atmosphere had been so uncomfortable that she hadn’t stayed for very long, and she’d only been back twice since. Well, things were different now, she told herself. She was different. If her dad was unwelcoming, then she’d just ignore it. This was still her home, after all, and her dad had no other family to share it with.

Still, as Ellie turned down the lane that led to Hope Farm, she began to doubt her own confidence. The old sign had been repainted, but not replaced. Her mother had chosen that sign, and she was glad her father had seen fit to keep it. The rest of the place looked as if it had been tidied up, too, she noted with surprise as she pulled into the yard. She had expected it to be just as neglected as it had been the last time she came home.

Parking her car next to her dad’s cream horsebox, she sat for a moment, suddenly overcome by memories. Her first pony, Midge, a brown-and-white Shetland, had been kept in the stable across from her. She couldn’t even count the times he’d dumped her unceremoniously on the ground. “You’re fine, Ellie,” her mum had always told her, insisting that she get straight back on. Eventually, Midge had been retired and was replaced by a pretty gray Welsh mare called Starlight, but Ellie had always missed her old friend and visited him daily in the meadow he shared with her dad’s retired hunter, Jock. They were both long gone now, though. As a teenager, Ellie had liked to think that they were with her mum in Heaven. Did she still believe that? she asked herself. Tears welled behind her eyelids, heavy and hot. She brushed them aside. The last thing she wanted was for her dad to find her sitting in the car crying. She had come home to try and bring some joy back into both their lives...some closure. Where was he, anyway?

Ellie climbed out of the car, taking her bag from the backseat, and headed for the house. A mud-splattered truck was parked in the middle of the yard. Her dad’s, she presumed, so he must be home.

She stood outside the kitchen door. Should she knock, or just walk in? Deciding on the latter, she pushed open the door and peered inside. Her father was asleep in his favorite chair, slumped forward slightly, a magazine slowly slipping off his knee. He looked so small and old, she realized with a jolt, so vulnerable.

“Dad,” she called quietly, unsure of whether or not to disturb him.

He stirred with a slight snorting sound, opening his eyes as the magazine fell to the ground. Ellie smiled to herself as she read the title. Horse and Hound. Of course it was.

“Ellie?” he gasped, pulling himself awkwardly upright and staring at her as if he could hardly believe his eyes.

“One and the same,” she said. “It’s good to see you, Dad.”

“Better put the kettle on, then, lass,” he suggested. Whatever he might say later, she knew he was pleased to have her home.

“I thought it was time I checked up on you,” she told him as she made herself busy brewing a pot of tea. It was like going back in time a hundred years in her father’s house. Perhaps she’d buy him an electric kettle before she left. Maybe even a toaster.

“Biscuits are in the barrel,” he said as she handed him a steaming mug.

She picked it up from its prominent position on the counter and sat down at the table.

“Same one, I see.”

“Not much changes around here,” he grunted. “Except you, of course.”

Ellie shrugged. “Circumstances changed us both, Dad, but I think it’s time to finally move on.”

He dunked a biscuit in his tea, considering her remark before looking up with a half smile. “So that’s what you think, eh... Still painting those pictures of yours?”

She nodded eagerly. “I’ve been given a bit of space in an exhibition soon. It’s not much, I know, but at least it’s a start. And what about you, how’s the new stallion you told me about, and Blue?”

“Doing good.”

“Had some nice foals this year?”

His eyes, still as bright a blue as hers, lit up his weathered face.

“The best. And Jake Munro has put his top jumping mare, Carlotta, to Dennis. Their foal should really be something special. You’ll have to come and see the horses when we’ve finished our tea.”

They fell then into a surprisingly comfortable silence and Ellie felt warm inside. She’d been right. It was time to make peace with the past and move on. Her dad knew it, too; she was sure of it.

When her tea was done, Ellie jumped up. “Let’s go check out this Dennis of yours. How’s he bred, anyway?”

Bob Nelson followed more slowly, easing out of the chair and pulling on his jacket.

“Irish Thoroughbred,” he said. “With a lineage as long as your arm.”

* * *

WHEN THEY REACHED the stable, they saw Blue first. His head was over the half door, as if he’d been expecting them.

As her dad ran his hand down the elegant horse’s face, the stallion nickered, lowering his head for his master’s caress.

Ellie thought of the morning Blue was born. Her mum had been so excited.

“Wake up, Ellie,” she’d called, bursting into her bedroom. “Come and see our new sire! He’s going to be the making of Hope Farm.”

“Some sire, that.” Ellie had smiled as she and her parents watched the newborn foal wobble around in the straw on legs that seemed way too long for its body. Even then, though, in the very first hour of his life, Blue had had a proud, almost regal look to him; the look of eagles, her mother had called it. And he still had it now. Ellie reached up to stroke the big horse’s silken coat, as well. He had been iron gray when she last saw him, and the years had turned him almost white now, but he still had that same pride and class he’d always had.

“He’s done your mum proud,” murmured her dad. “Done us all proud. One of his offspring is shortlisted for the British Horse Trials team, you know, and another two have been sold to America.”

“So Dennis has a lot to live up to, I guess.”

“Not really. He’d already proven himself competing in show jumping when I bought him. Cost me an arm and a leg. That’s why Jake Munro was so keen to use him.”

“Jake Munro,” Ellie repeated. “Do I know him?”

“You must. He’s quite a bit older than you, but he was brought up around here, at Sky View. He went away to work on a show-jumping yard in the South not long after he left school. Then he came back a few years later, after his wife left him and their twins, to set up a yard at home.”

“I know who you mean,” Ellie said. “I heard about that. He was married to Tamara, the singer. Wasn’t there some kind of tragedy?”

Her dad shook his head sadly. “Terrible business. His mother and one of the children were killed in a car crash.”

A heavy weight settled on Ellie’s heart. “That must have been awful.”

“He was in a very bad place for a while, I believe.”

“Like you, then, Dad.” She needed to say it.

For the first time in years, Bob Nelson looked his daughter in the eyes without withdrawing his gaze. His face darkened, and for one horrible moment she thought she’d overstepped the mark. Well, if he told her to leave, she’d just refuse.

“I have to go and let the pup out,” he said, turning away. “He’s been locked in all morning.”

She followed slowly as he walked across to the barn and opened the door. The black whirlwind that hurled itself on them took her totally by surprise.

“How long have you had him?” she cried, crouching down to welcome the half-grown sheepdog that covered her in sloppy kisses.

“Quite a while now. He was part of the deal for Jake Munro’s mare’s stud fee.”

“What’s his name?”

“I call him Shadow. Jake’s fiancée, Cass, has his sister, Puddle.”

At the sound of his name, Shadow raced over to greet his master, tearing around him in crazy circles before waiting eagerly to be petted.

Bob rubbed the backs of the dog’s ears. Ellie hadn’t seen the same softness in his eyes for years.

“I’ve got a few sheep,” he told her, as if compelled to justify his acquisition. “I thought it might be useful to have a dog. I’m going to train him.”

“And he’ll be good company for you,” Ellie added.

“That, too,” he admitted. “To be honest, I haven’t felt like having company for a very long time.”

Ellie seized her opening. “I know exactly how you feel, Dad. But maybe it’s time to look back and move on. That’s what I’m trying to do, at last. That’s why I’m here. And your friend, Jake, seems to have managed to come to terms with his past.”

“I guess meeting him is what got me thinking. He’s been through some bad times, too, but now he’s got his training and breeding business up and running, and he’s getting married again. He’s even gone into partnership with his dad, converting some barns.”

“Perhaps I should stay around for a while,” Ellie suggested on impulse. “Help you get things in the house straight again.”

Her idea met a blank wall of silence.

“Dog needs some exercise,” her dad eventually muttered, turning abruptly away.

Ellie’s heart fell as she watched his slightly stooped figure walk off, closely followed by the dog. Then he paused, looking back.

“Come and see my new ewes if you like,” he said. “They’re in the fell meadow.”

As they headed, side by side, toward the imposing mass of the Lakeland Hills, the pup raced ahead, glancing back every now and then to make sure his master was following. Ellie studied his black face with its white stripe between two of the friendliest brown eyes she had ever seen. He appeared to be smiling, Ellie thought, her head already whirling with ideas for a new painting.

The black-headed ewes were as nervous as wild deer, rushing to the corner of the paddock when they saw the dog. Shadow slunk down, belly on the ground, his eyes firmly fixed on the sheep.

Now that would make a great painting—the keen expression on the young dog’s face and the startled eyes of the cautious sheep.

“You’ve started training him already, I see,” she exclaimed.

Her dad shook his head. “No, that’s just natural. It seems to be bred into him to know how quiet you have to be with these Fell sheep. They’re as wild as the hills. I’ve had to put wire all around the tops of the walls to keep them in.”

With a low whistle to Shadow, he turned back toward the stable yard, beckoning her.

“You haven’t met Dennis yet.”