“Where would the donkeys go?”
That stumped me. The donkeys were smaller than the horses, bar the Shetlands, and seemed to be the easiest creatures on the farm to look after, but they still needed food, water, and shelter. “What about the tack room? It’s got a half-door, right? Empty it out and put the donkeys in there.”
“Empty it outwhere?” Joe gestured around the cluttered living room. “There’s no space anywhere.”
“Put it in my room,” I said. “There’s loads of space in there.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’syourroom. You’ve paid for a bed and some peace and quiet, not to drown in our mess. It ain’t right.”
I shook my head. “What’s not right is leaving those ponies wherever they are when you have a solution to do otherwise. I know you won’t do that, so let me help you, okay? It’s not like I haven’t had my money’s worth of free food while I’ve been here.”
Joe’s eyes flashed like they always did when we talked about food, but he had bigger things to worry about right now. His frown deepened as he considered my offer, and I could almost see him moving things around the farm to accommodate six more horses. “All right,” he said. “Let’s do this, but it’s temporary, okay? Until I think of something else.”
“Fine by me.” I stood, eyeing the clutch of empty beer bottles on the table. “What happens now? Is someone bringing the horses here?”
Joe snorted. “As if. That only happens when they get dumped at the end of the road. I’m going to have to ring George.”
“What about Emma, or Sal?”
“They can’t drive the horsebox.”
“I’ll drive it.”
“What?”
I held out my hand and pulled Joe from the couch. “I’ll drive.”
“You can’t. You need a category C licence for that beast, and there’s a bunch of coppers waiting for us.”
I retrieved my wallet from my back pocket and thumbed out my driving licence. “Read it and weep. Now let’s go.”
Joe scanned my licence with obvious scepticism but was in motion the moment he found what he was looking for. He made for the door, still clutching my hand from where I’d helped him up. “The box is round the back. Can you bring it down to the bungalow? I’ll meet you there.”
“Keys?”
Joe grabbed a set from the kitchen table and tossed them over his shoulder. Then he whirled around and kissed me fiercely, snatching my breath away. “Thank you. We’ll have to make two trips to bring them all back, and it means the world to me that you want to help.”
I smiled and touched his face, hoping he wouldn’t notice my trembling hands. “Of course I want to help. Let’s go, yeah? Sooner we go, sooner we’re home.”
Joe nodded. “Okay. But on the way, I need you to explain why you’ve got an HGV license gathering dust in your wallet.”
It wasn’t a particularly exciting story, but once we hit the road, Joe seemed fascinated by me driving lorries for ASDA in my uni days. “That’s mad,” he said. “Didn’t you have enough to do with all your doctor shit?”
“I’m not a doctor. I’m a physiotherapist.”
“And a writer.”
“Pretend writer,” I corrected. “I haven’t finished the book yet.”
“But you will. And Emma told me that the whole world reads your blog, so you must be good at it.”
I scoffed. “Most of the world readsThe Sun, and you can’t tell me that’s good writing.”
“Don’t put yourself down. I can barely write my name.”
