Tobias’ forehead creased:a what?Megan saw it and shook her head. Surely he must know what a hotpot was? Apparently not, judging by his expression. For some reason this annoyed her, that and his obvious coldness towards Tracy and Gary, who were doing their level best to fit in and make a new start. She found his attitude rather high-handed and didn’t care for it one bit. He clearly didn’t want to be here and it showed. Earlier, when Gary was outlining his plans for the garden, she had noticed how reserved Tobias had been and frankly had found it embarrassing.
‘Here’s to a happy home!’ chirped Finula, raising her glass. Everyone joined in, though Tobias did so reluctantly. Happy home? They’d completely ruined it, stripping the Gate House of its traditional charm and ambiance. It epitomised the sorry state of affairs, of how broke his family must be to sink to this level. How in God’s name did the Belchers acquire just under a million pounds to buy it? He should have vetted the buyers first, before instantly accepting the asking price. Then again, maybe nobody else would have offered the asking price.
‘So what brought you to Treweham?’ asked Megan, once the conversation had moved on from Lancashire.
‘Well, we came here on honeymoon a few years ago and since winning the lottery, we decided to relocate here,’ Gary answered. The drink had loosened his tongue.
Tobias’ head shot up. Lottery winners, of course! Why hadn’t he guessed? Megan caught his eye and gave him a quizzical look, which he returned with a tight smile. She took a deep breath.
‘Yeah,’ Tracy joined in, cheeks hot with all the steam coming from the casserole dish, ‘we’re beginning to feel more at home, now that we’ve got the place as we want. Wouldn’t mind a proper gas fire, though. All this messing around with the wood burner, it’s a right faff!’
Tobias closed his eyes. He wanted to run away from here, away from the Belchers, who had desecrated his family’s heritage. And what plans did Gary have for the garden? A bloody hot tub!
The evening droned on for Tobias. A mixture of being force-fed more and more ‘hotpot’, washed down with warm, flat Prosecco, and listening to Gary’s jokes getting progressively louder and decidedly dirtier, didn’t do much for his mood.
He noticed Dylan was unusually quiet, and wondered if he had given the renovation of the old stable block any more thought.
Finally, after all had said good night and thanked Gary and Tracy, he and Megan made their way home. Walking in the cool night air, Tobias reached out for her and gently pulled her into him, with his arm round her shoulders. She tensed a little, reminding him of the Megan he had first known. ‘Megan?’
‘Yes?’
‘Is everything all right?’ He sensed a reluctance in her.
She stared straight ahead of her. ‘Shouldn’t it be?’
Tobias frowned, not knowing what had caused the sudden change in her.
*
Dylan had given Finula a lift back to The Templar. Looking sideways at him, Finula asked, ‘Not heard from Flora, then?’
‘No.’ He drove solemn-faced, staring out at the lane in front of him. Finula didn’t know what to say. It was strange having a quiet, sombre Dylan, instead of the usual lovable rogue.
‘Sorry.’ She couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Dylan shrugged. Tomorrow he was going to talk to Seamus, run the idea of setting up his own training yard past him. Seamus had experience and was a true friend, and he trusted him to give an honest opinion.
Dylan thought he couldn’t go on like this; a deep sense of discontentment was threatening to suffocate him. Never before had he encountered such a feeling of unfulfillment, yet what had changed? He was still Dylan Delany, Champion Jockey, a winner, but something was missing. His own words to Tobias rang true. He was lonely.
His thoughts perpetually gravitated to Flora. It puzzled him that such a slip of a girl had had such an overpowering effect on him.Why?Because she was sincere, he told himself. She was young, innocent and wore her heart on her sleeve. There was no hidden agenda, she simply just wanted him – and she genuinely cared. Flora understood him more than he had appreciated. They were the same: she loved horses like he did and he’d witnessed the bond she had shared with them. She had been right, he could have been badly injured at Newmarket. He recalled the tears streaming down her face, the hurt and anger he had caused. He had to talk to her.
