The trail is lovely, the winter sun streaming through the trees, their naked boughs casting an intricate tracery of light and shade.

But I’m in no mood to enjoy it. Charlie stamps and judders under me, tossing her head. I pull back on the reins. “I don't know what's wrong with her today.”

My Master is cool. “It’s not the horse, Charlotte, but the rider. You're in a mood and Charlie's picking up your mood. You’re perching in the saddle as though you’re the one about to bolt. And if you jerk the reins like that again, I’ll take them from you. Charlie doesn’t deserve to be the butt of your temper.”

He’s right…

But so what?

Clicking my tongue, I urge Charlie forward and she breaks into a trot, but her eyes roll back at me…

“Charlotte...”

… I urge on my mount. The air is fresh on my skin. The sun shimmers and dances to the leaf-littered ground. But nothing dispels the clouds in my head.

“Charlotte!” My Master’s voice snaps like a whip. With a thunder of hooves, Oliver pulls up beside me and my Master reaches across, snatching at Charlie’s bridle. “You may be angry with me, but you will not ignore me.”

He wrenches the reins from my hands then leads me, with Charlie, to a tree, looping the reins over a branch. Swinging a long leg over his saddle he dismounts then snaps a gesture to the ground. “Down!”

My throat dry, I obey. My Master reaches, catching me as my feet touch turf, then pushing me backward, my spine pressed flat against a tree trunk.

His face close to mine, he hisses at me, “I am trying to be fair to both you and Georgie. And both of you are giving me a hard time. I'm caught between a rock and a hard place here, Charlotte. And I don't care for it. You are treating me as though I have done something I should apologise for, and I do not believe, or accept, I have done anything to deserve that.”

I have nothing to say.

*****

Michael

The pair blow in through the door, in theory, together.

James stalks in, face reddened. Charlotte follows and, without a word or a smile, disappears into the kitchen.

I watch her scuttle away, then catch James by the arm. “What’s going on?”

James swipes a hand through his hair, blows air through puffed cheeks. “Georgie.” Then spinning, face set, he strides out again. The door slams closed behind him.

This has gone on long enough…

I hover by the window, listening for the crunch of footsteps on gravel to fade, then head for the kitchen where Charlotte is taking one of Cara’s feed bottles from the fridge.

and then back to

me. What d’you think you’re up to,

voice sounds fake and as she puts the bottle into the microwave, she keeps her

talking about. I don’t think James deserves to be upset like this. And certainly not

look at me… “… Into the

home too. And Georgie is his daughter.

something useful. But nothing’s happening. It achieves nothing. “She didn’t want anything to do with me before,” she mutters. “Or with Cara. Or with him. Why should I make her welcome here? I don’t even know why he wants her here. It’s been years since

to slide away but I lay hands on the worktop either side of her, caging her between my arms. It’s not often

and I don’t bother trying to keep the disgust out of my voice. “I

I've known him. And now, just when he has the perfect opportunity to make up with her again, you behave like this. It’s petty and wilful and

store, that time, when she saw I was pregnant, she was just awful. To me. And to him. She

of course, is that every

not the point at

I realise that Georgie was epically insulting to you, but…” I press the end of a finger to her chin. “…she had just discovered her father's new wife is a woman younger than she is. Give that news credit for a bit of shock

Babe, you’re better

her chin juts and her lips

stand away, releasing her. Scratching at my

the fuck to

?

It’s Mitch, cradling

an arm from mother to daughter.

“Jenny, listen to me…” Charlotte’s face is still set, but

At least she’s listening…

her arms. The baby girl gurgles and chuckles. “It is in the nature

Charlotte’s jaw drops. “Mom…”

mine

how it is, and how it should be….” Mitch moves closer and, in her embrace, Cara burbles and bubbles. “…Ask yourself a question. If something happened: a fire, or a car accident… a terrorist attack maybe…

mouth flaps. “Mom,

away, not wanting to let my face betray

core of

it. Answer the question. If your back was against the wall. If you had no

hard, her eyes

Charlotte’s cheek, tucks a lock of hair

but imperceptibly, Charlotte is trembling. She

no fault of your own, you are robbed of your child? You daughter.

grow ever

the chance to have her back comes, wouldn’t you want to take

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