Page 19

‘Horse,’ Gareth repeats, a look of confusion on his face.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ says Horse politely, extending a hand without feeling the need to explain his name. He towers over Gareth as they shake hands.

Tegan gets up and barks as if remembering her guarding duties just a little too late. Gareth looks around the room.

‘Well, this all looks like fun,’ he says, smiling a little uncertainly.

‘You remember me mentioning Lara, don’t you? She’s Willow’s guardian and social worker, and I had my assessment with her.’

‘I’m Gareth. I expect you’ve heard all about me. Friend of the family,’ he adds with a jolly little laugh, and Lara smiles.

‘I have. A friend of Gwen’s late husband, is that right? It’s good to meet you.’

‘And on hand to help Gwen out when she needs it,’ he says, making me bristle slightly.

‘It’s been great to see you, Will,’ Horse says to Willow now, and I find myself feeling disappointed that our lovely warm chat in the kitchen is over.

Willow stands on a chair and reaches up to hug him. ‘You can stay for dinner, can’t he, Gwen? There’s always plenty,’ he says pleadingly.

I laugh. ‘I’m not much of a cook, I’m afraid, but you’re more than welcome. It’s just pasta. That’s one of the only things I can really cook . . . and open a bag of salad.’

‘That sounds good – enough for me too?’ asks Gareth.

‘Yes, and you too, Lara,’ I say, ‘if you’re not desperate to get away?’

‘Well . . . no one’s waiting for me at home,’ she says with a little smile, and again I glimpse another side of the confident career woman. ‘Just a pile of paperwork. I’d love to stay, thanks.’

‘Well, I’d say that calls for us opening a bottle of wine,’ says Gareth. He heads for the pantry where the supermarket wine lives.

‘To go with pasta and a jar of sauce, and garlic bread,’ I say. Then I remember that the bread is in the bottom of the Aga and has been for a while. I can actually smell a hint of burning.

Despite the singed garlic bread and sticky pasta, dinner is a much brighter affair than the rather silent ones we’ve had where Willow has been desperate to get away from the table as soon as possible. Although he doesn’t eat much, he takes great delight in carrying Horse’s and Lara’s plates to the table. I put a jug of water on the wooden table, worn and wobbly with age, next to the bottle of red Gareth has opened, poured me a glass, but no one else is drinking as they’re all driving.

‘So where does the name Horse come from?’ Gareth asks as we pass the garlic bread around, cracking off the black bits and crunching the dark brown crust.

‘He fell asleep standing up at a party once! Like a horse, asleep standing up!’ Willow answers for him, and we all laugh.

‘And how do you know Willow?’ Gareth continues. I’m pleased that he’s showing an interest in Willow and his life.

‘I knew Ayesha, Willow’s grandmother on his father’s side. Well, I say father; he was on the scene for quite a few years while Willow was growing up.’ Horse glances at Willow as he says this, and they share a nod of agreement. He seems happy to explain, but also careful about doing so in a way that Willow won’t find upsetting. ‘They lived in Ayesha’s house: Willow, his mum and Shams, her partner. And I was a lodger there. I worked for an artist at the time, moving big installations around for his exhibitions.’

‘Wow, that must have been interesting,’ says Gareth.

Horse nods. ‘It was.’

‘Sounds like you’ve done a lot of different jobs,’ says Gareth, and I almost think it might be a little dig from him. But I can’t imagine why it would be. He’s just interested. Let’s be honest, Horse is an interesting sort of person.

‘Anything I can do with my hands,’ Horse says agreeably. ‘I wasn’t cut out for office life. But I liked that exhibition job – it was a good one. Until the artist burnt all his work in a skip and decided he wanted to become a chef instead. I don’t think that worked out for him. He couldn’t cook!’

‘I know the feeling,’ I say, prompting laughter as we all look at the remains of the garlic bread.

‘But it was a good time. I met some firm friends, and you liked it there, didn’t you, Will?’

Willow nods, fidgeting, and it occurs to me to wonder why Ayesha isn’t Willow’s guardian. It sounds as if living in her home was the closest he’s had to stable family life.

As if reading my mind, Lara says, ‘Ayesha is unwell now, sadly. She has dementia; it started very young. We weren’t sure of the biological relationship, and Willow was probably only there for about eighteen months. But she’s in the later stages of the illness, and she’s living in a care home.’

A silence falls across the table, and I wonder how Willow is feeling. Confused, I expect. I know I would be. It must be hard not knowing who the anchors are in your life. I had my mum, but after my dad left, life was a bit chaotic. Mum worked, and to be honest, I was a bit of a brat in ways that added to the chaos. I used to climb out of windows after bedtime, finding my way to parties and not coming home for days – worrying my mum sick. The guilt of that still twists in my gut.