Free The Day We Disappeared by Lucy Robinson Page B

felt there were many things that we both wanted to say, but none were said.
     She tidied up the bowls, mumbling genially about needing to pop into town, and
     wandered out with the dogs padding after her. ‘That’s Woody,’ she
     said, pointing to the Irish wolfhound.
    Then it was just me. I closed my eyes
     for a second, trying, through all this uncomfortable newness, to remind myself that
     this was par for the course. The odd employers; the strange atmosphere: it was never
     going to feel right straight away.
    It’s okay, I told myself. It
     really is okay. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other and before you know
     it it’ll be dinner time. You’re doing brilliantly!
    I wasn’t sure I believed myself,
     but I stood up anyway, pulling Becca’s spare bobbly gloves on to my already
     blistering hands. ‘Once more unto the breach,’ I said to the empty room.
     ‘Once more unto the bloody breach. Oh, God.’

Chapter
     Four
Kate
    ‘What the hell is Mark and
     Maria’s relationship about?’ I asked Becca. We were reaching the end of
     my first day on the yard and dusk was stretching its long, cold fingers over the
     farm. Our breath, which had straggled out of our mouths like damp little clouds all
     day, now plumed richly like smoke. Becca was showing me how much haylage to give
     each horse. It was a sweet-smelling, slightly damp version of hay, the point of
     which Becca had explained to me and I had promptly forgotten.
    ‘Ah, pet, don’t ask me about
     Mark and Maria!’ she muttered, loading a pile of haylage into a wheelbarrow.
     ‘Pair of fuckin’ nutters. Were they shouting at each other?’
    ‘Mostly hissing. Although their
     kid did a lot of shouting. She’s fierce!’
    Becca grinned. ‘I love that little
     devil,’ she said, suddenly tender. ‘She knows herself better than either
     of her horrible parents know themselves.’
    I nodded thoughtfully. Ana Luisa’s
     language might have been unusually fruity for a six-year-old but she was the only
     one in that room who’d actually expressed her feelings. Her mother was curdled
     with passive aggression and her father was a column of frost, while Sandra and I had
     merely cowered, like Labradors.
    ‘Maria told
     her off and she tried to run away.’
    A little chuckle. ‘Aye. As
     usual.’
    ‘Oh! Really?’
    Something unreadable crossed
     Becca’s face. ‘Mmm. But we always find her.’
    ‘Where does she go?’
    ‘To my room, mostly.’
    ‘How funny! Actually, Maria said
     you’d find her. How come?’
    Becca was not enjoying all my questions.
     ‘Dunno.’
    I left it. I had enough skeletons in my
     own closet and, besides, we had reached the first stable door, over which hung a
     handsome chestnut face that looked very happy about the haylage I was carrying.
     ‘Kangaroo’, his name plate said.
    I smiled, nervous but delighted to find
     myself face to face with a horse at last. There had been horses around me all day –
     being groomed, being ridden, being fed, and a bunch of mad ones galloping and
     bucking on the iron-hard frozen ground of the paddocks earlier, much to
     Tiggy’s dismay – but I hadn’t met a single one of them yet.
    As I looked at this magnificent beast,
     however, I wavered. Not only was he absolutely enormous but it was now clear that I
     hadn’t the faintest idea how to approach him. What to say to him. How even to
     give him some hay. ‘Um, hi, Kangaroo!’ I said uncertainly, sticking my
     spare hand out in the direction of his face. Kangaroo swung his head away, back into
     his stable.
    ‘Oh,’ I said, laughing to
     cover my disappointment. ‘Kangaroo doesn’t like me.’
    Becca smiled. ‘Come here,
     lad,’ she murmured, and held
out her
     own hand. Kangaroo eventually came over, snuffling at her with his lovely soft nose.
     I wanted to kiss it.
    ‘They can always tell when
     you’re nervous,’ Becca said. ‘They pick up on everything. Just
     relax, pet, he’s a lovely boy.’
    I