Page 43 of Short Stack 3

“What?”

I nod. “So many nice shops.” I reach for the bags. “I bought a lovely tweed flat cap.”

“Is that for your career as a soft-ground-avoiding farmer?”

I raise my middle finger at him, hearing him laugh, and then I turn back to the bags. “I bought a lovely little gilet, a couple of cashmere jumpers, and a pair of Le Chameau wellies.”

“Why?”

“Well, I know I don’t like mud, but they’ll be great when we go to Cornwall for all those dreadfully energetic things Oz wants to do. And Kate Middleton likes them.”

“Hopefully, she’s got her own pair. You don’t share very well.”

“I also bought a special whistle for when we walk Bertie. It’ll improve his recall, according to the shop owner.”

“Why are we buying whistles when I know you can make that sound all by yourself?”

“Well, it came with a lovely rainbow ribbon.” When I look up, he’s shaking his head. “What?” I ask.

He snorts. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. You could find a shop if you were shipwrecked. What else did you get?”

I search for the bag and exclaim in triumph. “Here they are.” I grin at him. “I bought you a present.”

“You did?”

I nod. I tap my wrist where my Cartier bracelet is. “You bought me this, so I bought you some horsey chic. Go on and open it.” He opens the bag and extracts the two wristbands. They’re made of some sort of sturdy thread that’s tightly wovenin red and purple colours. “I saw them and immediately thought of the friendship bands we all wore when we were kids.” I fasten his around his strong wrist, admiring the golden skin before sitting back. “That looks lovely. You know how it works. Now we’re wearing them, it means we’ll be best friends for life.”

He looks down at it, running his finger over the threads. When he glances up, his eyes are bright and fierce, like the inside of a flame. “Always. I love it. I love you, and I’ll never take it off.”

I smile at him. “It’s a memento from our camping trip. I got one too.” I put our wrists together. “Lovely. We match.”

He turns our arms so the little tattooed stick figures join their rope. “Perfect,” he agrees. I drop a kiss on his hand. “So, do you want to shop some more, Henry?”

“I don’t think so,” I say, staring longingly at the white tents where the shops are. “Bertie rather disgraced himself in the sheepskin tent.”

“Why?”

“He peed up the impala.”

“A real one?”

“God, no. Even Bertie’s not that brave. No, it was a woollen one, and the shop owner shouted at us. I only managed to escape by hiding here, but I had my comeuppance when I met Julia. I don’t think I’ve been treated to so much medical information since your mother had her hysterectomy.”

He winces. “That was all very graphic, and I don’t think the village carnival committee appreciated all the details at their meeting.”

A few hours later, we walk back to the van. We pack the chairs away neatly, and I take the rubbish to the bins. When I get back, Ivo is leaning against the van, his hair shining in the afternoon sunlight.

“So, what did you think?” he asks me. He looks rumpled and very sexy in shorts and a T-shirt. Both items of clothing are veryold, but he wears the outfit as though it’s couture. “Want to do it again?”

He winks, obviously thinking he’s a comedian, but I consider him for a few seconds. I’m sunburnt, my Prada shoes probably still bear minute traces of horse shit, my hair is a mess, and my clothes are creased. I know more about horses and strange women’s medical ailments than I feel is necessary for my continued survival, but I feel… I feel happy.

“You know, I might,” I say.

“What?”

“Yes.” I wave a careless hand. “You don’t know me quite as well as you think, Ivo. I have hidden depths.”

“You have about as many of them as a puddle.” He cocks his head to one side. “So where do you see us taking the van next if Seb will lend it out again?”

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