Free This Is Your Life by Susie Martyn Page B

trot. 
    ‘ HUP, two, HUP, two – heels DOWN, hands STILL – no, no, NO – shoulders back, stick your boobs OUT…Like THIS…YES…’
    Lizzie couldn’t understand it.  Why subject yourself and the poor horse to something that looked so uncomfortable.  Then she glimpsed Cassie cantering a large white horse in the field next door, effortlessly clearing every huge fence she rode it at.  Gripped, Lizzie watched.  This was better.  Incredible, yes and absolutely terrifying.
    Returning Antonia’s wave, she continued up the road past the church.  A cat yowled and Lizzie briefly glimpsed a ghostly figure flitting among the trees, but by the time she’d blinked and rubbed her eyes it had vanished, leaving her convinced she’d imagined it.  Further on were a couple more cottages with neat flowerbeds and trim hedges, and then, what on earth was this?
    It had to be the ‘danged ramblers’ that William had been so incensed about.  A motley crew wielding ski-poles with plastic bags hanging round their necks, were marching purposefully down the lane towards her.  Then, just before they got to her, they turned off the lane and started to climb a padlocked gate.
    Ignoring the sign that clearly stated ‘private-keep out – no ramblers ’ with a skull and crossbones someone had added underneath, they waited until the last member of their group was over, then continued marching right across the middle of the field.  Lizzie was astounded at such blatant disrespect for the landowner.  No wonder William had been so irate - she was quite annoyed with them herself.  The cheek of it!  It just wasn’t on doing that sort of thing, even a townie like her knew that.
    Lizzie wandered on up the lane, peering in at every garden she passed, until she almost reached the end of the village. And then she saw it, on the opposite side of the lane, in all its dishevelled, rose-covered glory. An involuntary ‘oh’ escaped her.  Facing her was a small, dilapidated cottage.  With broken tiles and peeling paintwork, but she didn’t see them, instead gazing unblinking at weathered stone walls festooned with the most glorious colour.  A week or two earlier or later, she’d have missed it.  As it was, she’d timed it to perfection.
    Lizzie crossed the road and just stood, hoping no-one was at home to notice the stranger snooping over their gate. But then something else caught her eye.  The ‘To Let’ board in the drive.  The house was empty. Lizzie’s heart started pounding. 
    A s if of their own accord, her fingers programmed the letting agent’s number into her mobile. 
     
    And before she knew it, Monday had arrived.  Darius had come to fetch her in his smart black Freelander which ponged of Eternity for Men, and he chattered excitedly as he drove haphazardly along the lanes, slamming his brakes on and swerving every now and then to avoid flattening an overweight pigeon or panic stricken rabbit that dashed out of the hedge on a suicide mission.  Weaving along a maze of windy lanes, Darius slowed when they came to a small hamlet.
    ‘Darling, I can’t believe we’re finally here!  Do look!  Welcome to our humble abode!’  
    He turned off between two ancient oak trees and Lizzie gasped.  The cosy little love-nest she’d pictured hadn’t remotely resembled this.  Sweeping up a rather smart gravel drive with neat lawn laid either side, they parked outside the impressively glassed front of a fabulous, no-expense-spared barn conversion.  Tall spiralling topiaries framed the door like sentries.
    ‘Darius, this is stunning!’  Lizzie was awestruck.
    ‘Oh darling, come and see the inside .  It’s simply to die for!’  Clearly pleased, he flounced theatrically up the wide steps, and flung the doors open.
    Inside was just as awe-inspiring.  Lizzie’s eye was immediately drawn to the enormous fireplace which towered into the rafters, logs piled high either side.  Huge soft sofas and a heavy coffee table were