Free The Day We Disappeared by Lucy Robinson

room. ‘I could eat the lot!’
    Mark stared at me, possibly wondering if
     I was mentally ill.
    ‘I’m sure you could,
     sweetheart,’ Maria said pleasantly, looking at my waist.
    ‘Do you have your CV?’ Mark
     asked, ignoring his wife. They seemed to spend a lot of time ignoring each other.
     ‘And, look, I should probably tell you that I didn’t ask my mother to
     interview anyone on my behalf. Unfortunately one of our team left while I was in
     Europe, trying out some youngsters, and Mum took it upon herself to solve the
     resultant staffing deficit.’
    ‘Your mum and I had a lovely
     chat,’ I tried. ‘She was so nice!’
    Maria snorted. ‘I imagine
     Sandra’s interview skills are even worse than yours, darling.’ She gave
     Mark a tart, citrussy sort of a smile.
    It was like a sitcom! How could they not
     be embarrassed, carrying on like this? I hated them both. A more miserable pair of
     bastards I’d never come across. I spooned some hot, cheesy soup into my
     mouth.
    Mark turned back to me. ‘So, as I
     was saying –’
    ‘Please email me your CV,
     darling,’ Maria interrupted crisply. ‘For our files.’
    Mark took in a slow breath.
     ‘Please email
me
your CV,’ he said. ‘In the meantime you
     can tell me about your experience.’
    ‘Well,’ I began. ‘I
     first sat on a pony at three years old, and since then I’ve –’
    ‘You do not look like a
     rider!’ Maria smiled, staring pointedly at my large breasts.
    I blushed.
    ‘As you were saying …’ Mark
     peered at his watch.
    ‘As I was saying, I got on a pony
     at three years old and went for a gallop along the beach. It was the best moment of
     my life. I spent my entire childhood riding, and when I moved to Dublin I kept a
     horse out in Bray.’
    ‘Pony Club?’ Mark asked.
    ‘Yes!’
    ‘Did you get your B
     test?’
    I froze. Did I? B didn’t sound
     good enough for Mark Waverley’s yard. ‘Actually, I got my A.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Yeah. I, er –’
    ‘FUCK YOU ALL!’ came a
     little scream from the hallway. Ana Luisa was on her way out of the house with a
     little rucksack covered in diamanté. More stylish than I would ever be, she had
     chosen a silk headscarf and large sunglasses for her departure. She was incandescent
     with rage, a small bomb on two legs. ‘FUCK YOU ALL! I’M
     LEAVING!’
    ‘Good luck,’ Maria called.
     Mark went to go after her but Maria grabbed his wrist with a manicured hand,
     barnacling him to the table and their argument.
Ah, go and grab her
, I
     thought sadly.
Give that poor sweet girl a cuddle.
    ‘Becca will sort her out,’
     Maria said, catching sight of my face. ‘Ana Luisa does this regularly. It is
     the classic behaviour of a child who is being abandon by workaholic
     father.’
    Mark turned back to me. His temple was
     pulsing. ‘Did my mother mention that you’re on a trial?’
    Sandra, eating her soup at the far end
     of the table, clapped her hands over her mouth. ‘Oh, I forgot to.’
    ‘Which is
     why I ask that you leave the hiring to me, Mum,’ Mark cut in. Sandra, if she
     was hurt, did not show it.
    ‘You’re on a month’s
     trial,’ he told me. ‘But that doesn’t mean you’re guaranteed
     a month, I’m afraid. I don’t have millions of pounds or a
     state-of-the-art yard, like everyone else in the World Class squad, which means I
     have to be doubly fussy about who I hire.’ I made a mental note to find out
     what this World Class thing was. ‘So there’s no room for error on my
     yard. Every little mistake can hurt us.’
    He stared at me, directly, for the first
     time, as if challenging me to wilt and die, which I wanted to very much indeed.
    Instead I smiled. ‘Of course,
     Captain! You won’t be disappointed.’
    Mark’s navy eyes drifted off, as
     if he couldn’t stand the sight of me.
    ‘So, Kate,’ Maria purred,
     ‘why you choose Mark’s yard for work?’
    ‘Well, you see, Maria, horses are
     my passion,’ I said,