Picture of Innocence. TJ Stimson
born.
Maddie had spent her teenage years in jodhpurs, with straw in her hair and dirt under her nails, mucking out stables at a nearby horse sanctuary in return for riding lessons. At one point, she’d dreamed of being a jockey. She was the right height and had the necessary slim, wiry build, and over time, she acquired the technical skills, but eventually she’d had to accept she just didn’t have the killer instinct. It took strength and guts to hold on to 1200 pounds of horseflesh thundering along at forty miles an hour. Horses could smell your fear, and she’d never quite mastered hers. Instead, she’d got a degree in animal welfare and started working full-time at the horse sanctuary. Later, after Benjamin’s death, she’d used her small inheritance from her father to buy out the owners, two retired vets, when it’d become too much for them to manage.
Finn had been her first rescue horse. He’d obviously been viciously abused as well as shamefully neglected, and when he’d arrived at the sanctuary, he’d had no idea how to respond to affection, backing away in fear when she tried to stroke his nose. He’d circled his stable endlessly, grabbing mouthfuls of hay and spitting them out over the door and biting his own shoulders. She’d had no idea horses could self-harm until then.
It’d taken months of persistent, loving patience to calm him enough to even get a saddle on him. But, in the end, he’d become her greatest success story. She always put her most nervous riders on Finn. He was like a huge armchair. He understood their fear, because of what he’d been through himself.
Izzy led Finn into his box. ‘Mads, I need to talk to you,’ she said, as she came back outside and bolted the stable door behind her.
‘That doesn’t sound good,’ Maddie said, with a lightness she didn’t feel.
‘Look, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think we should consider selling the lower meadow,’ Izzy said, as they crossed the yard. ‘Our cheque for feed this month bounced again. The south stables are leaking, and if we don’t fix the roof soon, it’s going to come down. Bitsy hasn’t been paid for two months, and I know you haven’t taken a penny in almost a year. We have vet bills, hay bills, the rates are due.’ She stopped as they reached the small Portakabin that served as the sanctuary’s offices. ‘We’re sinking, Maddie.’
Maddie frowned. ‘If we start selling off bits of land to pay bills, we’ll end up with nothing left. We’ll have another fundraiser. I’ll talk to my mother, see if she can help.’
‘That might see us through this crisis, but what about the next one?’ Izzy said. ‘We need to increase our donor base and find new sponsors, so we can get some kind of regular income coming in. Otherwise, we’re just putting our fingers in the dyke.’
Maddie knew her friend meant well. Izzy and Bitsy loved every blade of grass, every stone and split-rail fence of the sanctuary as much as she did. Like her, they considered it their second home. They’d been at the sanctuary even longer than she had and she’d known them since she’d first started mucking out stables there as a teenager. It was Izzy who’d suggested a degree in animal welfare when her mother had insisted she go to college, and Bitsy who’d encouraged her to buy the sanctuary when the vets could no longer manage it, promising to stay on at the stables as long as Maddie needed her. Izzy had even given Lucas a couple of riding lessons, before they’d concluded, by mutual assent, that horses weren’t for him. She and Bitsy had organised Maddie’s hen weekend on the Isle of Wight with Jayne and Lucas’s younger sister, Candace, where they’d all got outrageously drunk. Sixty-two-year-old Bitsy had been arrested for indecent exposure after she’d dropped her trousers and peed behind a postbox; somehow, Candace had sweet-talked the arresting officer, a baby-faced policeman barely out of his teens and a full head shorter than she, into dropping the charges in return for her phone number. Bitsy and Izzy were her family. They knew the sanctuary meant the world to her, as it did to them. Losing even a part of it would break all their hearts.
Izzy would rather cut off her own arm than sell the lower meadow. If she was suggesting it now, they must be in real trouble.
Maddie leafed through the bills on her desk after Izzy had left. Overdue. Three months in arrears. Immediate payment is required.
Izzy was right. They couldn’t go on like this. Lucas had told her the same thing. And he didn’t just want her to sell the lower meadow; he’d actually asked her to consider selling the sanctuary itself.
She understood his reasoning: the sanctuary was a financial black hole that had long since swallowed every bit of her legacy, and more besides. As Izzy said, she hadn’t paid herself in more than a year. If she sold the land to a developer, she’d make enough for Lucas to buy into a partnership with his architectural firm and enable him to take on some of the projects he longed to do which were currently no more than a pipe dream.
But the sanctuary wasn’t just a hobby or even a good cause, not to her. Maddie felt hurt that Lucas could even ask her to sell it. The horses were her family. She loved Finn second only to Lucas and the children. Of course she didn’t want to stamp on Lucas’s dreams, but closing the sanctuary to facilitate them was inconceivable. It’d be like selling Noah to a baby trader!
She’d sacrifice a kidney rather than let one single horse go.
Maddie’s hair smelled of vomit, and her jeans of urine. She’d already changed her T-shirt three times before giving up and accepting the noxious stains as the scars of battle. Her nails were caked in pink calamine lotion, and she strongly suspected the suspicious marks on her socks had something to do with Jacob’s foul-smelling nappy earlier.
‘Of course it’s not a bad time,’ she lied, opening the front door wider. ‘Please, come in.’
Candace thrust a Tupperware box at her as she came in. ‘I made scones. They’re a bit burnt, but you can kind of scrape that off.’
‘Sorry about the mess,’ Maddie apologised, clearing a heap of dirty washing off a kitchen chair so Candace could sit down.
‘You should see my place,’ Candace said cheerfully, lobbing a pair of dirty knickers onto the pile in Maddie’s arms. ‘Lucas told me Jacob’s come down with the pox, too. I thought you might need some moral support.’
Maddie shoved the dirty clothes into the washing machine and jammed the door shut. ‘You have no idea. Your brother practically ran screaming from the room when Emily came out in spots. You know what he’s like about getting sick. I’m amazed he hasn’t made us fumigate the place.’
Candace picked up a piece of leftover Marmite toast from one of the kid’s plates and took a huge bite. ‘I was a bit surprised when Lucas’s office said he was home today,’ she said through a mouthful of crumbs. ‘I thought maybe you’d gone down with it too, that’s why I came round.’
‘That’s sweet of you, but I’m fine. I’ve already had it.’ Maddie looked puzzled. ‘I don’t know who you spoke to at his office, but they’ve got their wires crossed. Lucas has a meeting in Poole today, and then a late work dinner. He won’t be back till tomorrow morning.’
Candace snorted. ‘That sounds more like my brother. If you were relying on him for the “in sickness” bit of things, you’re out of luck.’ She took another bite of toast. ‘Are you all right, Mads? You look exhausted.’
‘So everyone keeps telling me.’
‘Sorry, darling. But you do look a bit ropey.’
‘That’s nothing to how I feel.’ Maddie collapsed onto a chair. ‘Thank God Noah hasn’t gone down with it yet, though it’s probably only a matter of time. Jacob’s been throwing up all day – this is the third set of laundry I’ve done today.’
‘How’s