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.

flick to mine and then back to the

me. What d’you think you’re

innocence in her voice sounds fake and as she puts the bottle into the microwave, she keeps her face turned away. Even side-on, the flush on

play the innocent either. You know perfectly well what I’m talking about. I don’t think James deserves to be upset like

doesn’t look at me… “… Into the house.

James’ home too. And Georgie

want anything to do with me before,” she mutters. “Or with Cara. Or with him.

tries to slide away but I lay hands on the worktop either side of her, caging her between my arms.

the disgust out of my voice. “I have to say, Charlotte, I didn't think

but I grab her wrist, holding it in mid-air. “… James has been grieving over losing Georgie for as long as I've known him. And now, just

in that clothes store, that time, when she saw I was pregnant, she was just awful. To me. And to him. She didn’t even pretend to be nice. She couldn’t

problem, of course, is that every

but it’s not the point at

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

Babe, you’re better than

But her chin juts

her. Scratching

the fuck to deal with

?

let me…” It’s Mitch, cradling

mother to daughter. “Be

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

At least she’s listening…

The baby girl gurgles and chuckles. “It is in the nature of things that we love our children more than they

Charlotte’s jaw drops. “Mom…”

mine does

set to her jaw I’ve not often seen… “…That’s 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… and you were faced with the choice,

flaps. “Mom, I

wanting to let

core of steel as her

question. If your back was against the

eyes glossy.

strokes Charlotte’s cheek, tucks a lock of hair behind an ear, “… Georgie is James’ child. I know

trembling. She sucks at

fault of your own, you

eyes grow ever

later, the chance to have her back comes, wouldn’t

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