Amelia laughed. ‘I will be careful, Henry. Don’t fuss so. Some horses startle at the slightest butterfly, this one is steady. We once had a horse who took a great dislike to the smell of pigs. It took us a while to understand what would turn her into a bucking devil, but we discovered it in the end.’ She patted Henry’s knee. ‘Be rest assured, this horse likes pigs.’ Amelia halted the gelding and loosened the rein so it could stretch its neck to tear at the grass. ‘Although I do remember one incident he was rather naughty. It was a sunny day, not unlike this one, and we were passing a child who took it upon herself to scream very loudly. He is an old horse, but the sound of a piercing scream quite terrified him. He took off like a cannon ball. Nothing would calm him. He was, quite literally, blinded by panic.’ She gave Henry a steady smile. ‘I didn’t scream at all. Isn’t that strange, Henry? At a time when I thought I was about to die, I felt quite calm.’
Realisation dawned in Henry’s eyes. ‘Is this the horse that paralysed you?’
Amelia raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. ‘Oh, didn’t you know? Don’t look so worried. I’m sure he didn’t do it on purpose, Henry.’
Henry held out his hand. ‘Let me take the reins. You are not as strong as I am should he misbehave.’
‘There is no need.’ Amelia smoothed the leather with her thumb. ‘Everyone thinks because I cannot walk, I must be weak and in need of protection. My brother being one of them. He means well and I love him for it, but no one seems to realise that it takes courage and strength to survive an accident and learn to live with the repercussions of it. It takes a will of iron to rise above those moments when those in your company talk over your head or as if you were not there, as if my accident also rendered me devoid of intellect, sight and feelings. It takes resilience to get out of bed, knowing that your day is going tobe the same as it was the day before. Even tending to the most intimate . . .’ She glanced at him. ‘I’m sorry, Henry. I’m sure that you don’t want to hear of such things, but when everyday tasks are so much more difficult and the boundaries of your world has shrunk until it feels as if you cannot breathe, a person can either give up or grow stronger. A wheelchair does not stop a person hoping and striving for a better future, it just makes it more difficult to achieve.’
Amelia’s grasp tightened on the leather. ‘Talek protected me, but he never spoke over me or as if I was not there. I still felt human in his company. And Grace treated me the same. And in recent months so did you. You fed me a dream of having my own home and children . . .’ she lifted her gaze to his and stared at him ‘. . . and I was foolish enough to gorge myself on it. I am wiser now.’ Henry opened his hand for the reins but she held on tight. ‘I have betrayed my own brother and Grace, who I consider a dear friend, for you.’
‘Give me the reins.’
‘You sound frightened, Henry,’ said Amelia, feigning concern. ‘Where is my charming, confident Henry now? Has he scuttled back to Margaret?’ Henry reached for the reins but she jerked them away. The gelding startled and raised its head suddenly, but did not move forward. ‘I lied to protect you. I betrayed those I loved . . . and it was all for nothing.’ She tilted her head to the side, as she stared at him. ‘How do you think that makes me feel, Henry?’
Henry grasped the reins in her hands. ‘I don’t care how you feel.’ He tugged, but Amelia did not let go.
‘You don’t deserve to have a happy life after all the pain you have caused.’
‘And how are you going to stop me? By riding this trap off the cliff so I will become a cripple like you! There is a differencebetween us, Amelia. I’m willing to better my life and take chances, whereas you don’t have much of a life left to live.’
Henry pulled at the reins again. Amelia’s body jolted violently towards him. She could smell his fear and it gave her strength.
‘The difference between us, Henry, is you want to live . . . and today I do not.’
A shadow of fear crossed Henry’s face as Amelia loosened her grip. He snatched the reins from her, but his triumph was short-lived. Her piercing scream had already begun to slice into the air, startling both the horse and the scattered gulls perched on the rocky ledges below the cliff. The white and grey birds rose in the air as the horse bolted, surrounding them with their panicked mewing as the grass topped cliff suddenly disappeared beneath the horse’s pedalling hooves.
Amelia and Henry jolted backwards, as the trap tilted vertical, their soft bodies jarring against the unforgiving seat. Gravity’s cruel hand pulled the horse and trap downwards as the gelding continued to gallop in mid-air. Amelia watched the poor beast as it fell, its body twisting, its hooves cycling, its thick neck arching as if embodied by a mythical creature taking flight.
She searched for Henry who was not far behind. He had been tossed free to fall unhindered by trap or reins, his arms and legs thrashing helplessly as he desperately yelled in fear. He was still alive — but not for long.
Amelia, by contrast, was not frightened at all. The clear blue sky above, and the serene waters breathing below, soothed away any fears. She felt at peace, unhurried and relaxed as if she, herself, was a long summer’s day. As she fell, she looked down at her body and watched her legs straighten. They stretched long and strong, moving gently in the air as if she was a dancer, pirouetting in the cobalt coloured sky. The sight of them moving enthralled her. She was free. No wheelchair, with its harsh edgesand cumbersome size that helped to shackle her to her cage of immobility. She was able to move as she was born to do. She began to laugh as tears of joy ran down her cheeks. Her laughter lifted the gulls still higher, their white wings beating as they rode on a current of rising sea air. They were the last thing she saw, but her thoughts were on her dear brother who she was leaving behind.
Chapter Twenty-One
Grace placed the modest hat on her head and stared back at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair had grown several inches since she had cut it. Combs, pins and her favourite green bonnet now gave the illusion that underneath her bonnet she had styled it high upon her head. She looked like her old self again, vibrant and confident, but appearances can be deceptive. Only those that knew her well could see the deep sadness in her eyes. She thought of the cause. Talek. The man was rarely from her thoughts and, for the umpteenth time that morning, she wondered what he was doing now. Did he ever think of her or had he been more successful at erasing her from his life than she had been with him? He certainly wanted nothing to do with her, and she could not blame him.
Her mother’s voice called to her from the bottom of the stairs. She straightened her tight-fitting jacket, which matched her dress, and reached for her gloves and purse. Today she was going to accompany her mother to the morning church service, something she had avoided attending since returning home. The memory of being so publicly exposed there had stopped her until now, but the villagers could not be avoided forever. She pinched colour into her cheeks, braced her shoulders and walked briskly down the stairs.
Her mother smiled as she approached, pride glinting in her eyes. Grace smiled back and attempted to put on her gloves.
‘Let me.’ Her mother took them from her and slipped each glove onto her hands. ‘Gloves have a way of fighting back when your hands are trembling.’ She gave them a little squeeze. ‘Don’t be nervous. I will be with you.’
They touched foreheads in solidarity. ‘It is the first time I will face the villagers. How did you do it so soon after it had happened?’
‘We have a home and a business here. I had no choice.’
‘I should have stayed and we could have faced them together.’
Her mother hugged her. ‘You were upset with us and understandably so.’
Grace savoured her mother’s warm hug, before breaking away. ‘I suspect every family in the village has some kind of secret. No one is perfect.’
Her mother glanced in the mirror and straightened her own hat. ‘It is what makes us human. We survive our battles and life goes on. Each battle teaches us something about the world and about ourselves and we are the richer for it.’ Their eyes met in the reflection in the mirror. Her mother’s loving gaze reached out to her. ‘You were a fighter from the very beginning, Grace. No one believed you would survive being born, but you did. You are stronger than you look. The villagers will be surprised when you walk in, they may even say you are brazen to do so, but it will blow over.’ She turned and threaded her arm through Grace’s as they walked to the door. ‘Your father hasn’t stepped inside a church since your baptism, but he is going to today. He wants them all to know how proud he is to be your father, no matter how that role came about.’
True to his word, Daniel Kellow was waiting for them at the end of the garden gate. He stood proud, dressed in his best suit that rarely saw the light of day. Her brother and sister were waiting for her too. The corner of her father’s lip twitched as they approached. He rarely smiled, as it was not his way, but she could see from the tilt of his jaw and the rise of his chest, that he was proud of her and liked what he saw. He offered her the crook of his left arm.
‘Molly and David have gone ahead, but your sister and brother refused to go with them. They wanted to walk with you.’
