Page 52 of For the Love of Animals

“Grew up on a farm in Lancashire, and my two sisters rode.”

“You didn’t?”

“I preferred the tractor.”

Matt helped me back into the saddle then fished a GPS unit out of his pocket. “Right, this way.”

“Won’t you get in trouble with your boss for doing this?”

“On this exercise, I am the boss. There’s a bunch of Marines out here, and our job is to hunt them down. I’ve always preferred being in the field to behind a desk, so I join in where I can, but this is the first time I’ve managed to catch a horse rather than a new recruit.”

“I’ve never fallen off him before. Usually, he doesn’t have so much energy.”

“Have you owned him for long?”

“Three months, but when I bought him, he wasn’t healthy enough to ride.”

“Is that a regular thing? Buying sick horses?”

“Not for normal people.”

The whole sorry story came tumbling out, mainly because if I kept talking, it took my mind off the pain. By the end, Matt was laughing.

“It’s not funny. This is my life. And I keep doing it. Buying things on impulse, I mean. Before Picky, it was the cottage.”

“What do you mean?”

“I bought it on the internet after indulging in a tiny bit too much wine. The toilet didn’t even flush. What kind of crazy person buys a house without a working toilet?”

Me, that was who. I was a walking disaster, except now I couldn’t even walk properly.

“I’ve driven past that cottage once or twice. Always thought it looked quite nice from the outside. Quaint.”

“Right now, I’d prefer somewhere with carpets and central heating.”

“It’s that bad?”

“I’m doing it up one room at a time. So far, I’ve got a bedroom and bathroom, and I’m fixing the kitchen as best I can. Things got a bit delayed when Picky arrived.”

“Look on the bright side—once you’ve finished, it’ll be all yours and exactly as you want it.”

“It’s that whole ‘finished’ part that seems like a pipe dream. How about you? Do you live nearby?”

“I’m based at the Commando Training Centre near Lympstone, so not too far away.”

“How long have you been in the Marines?”

“Ten years now. Joined up when I was eighteen.”

Which made him three years older than me, and he’d accomplished so much more in his life. Four miles went by faster than I ever thought they would as we chatted, and almost before I realised where we were, Matt pushed open the creaky gate to my garden.

“Does Picky live in here?”

“Yes, at the moment. I need to mend the shed for him before winter so he’s got shelter. There’s a hole in the side.”

But the extra work was worth it. Picky kept me company, and I liked talking to him out of the kitchen window each morning, apart from the time he stuck his head inside and ate my banana.

Matt closed the gate behind us. “Here, I’ll help you down.”

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