Read Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage for Free Online Page A

side of the vehicle and stops to cock its leg up the wheel.
    Mel leans across me.
    â€˜Robster, get your hounds under control, will you?’ he bellows.
    A figure moves out of the shadow of the overhang above the nearest block of stables that form one side of the yard. There are more stables and outbuildings through the gateway beyond. It’s Robbie, without his hat this time. He has brown wavy hair, short at the sides and long on the top, and he’s wearing a close-fitting grey T-shirt and stonewashed jeans that emphasise his broad shoulders and narrow hips. He strolls towards us with long easy strides, stopping beside the truck, where he stops and gazes at me, fixing me with his deep blue eyes.
    Close mouth, I tell myself as a fly buzzes around my head.
    â€˜I’m sorry about the dogs. They wouldn’t hurt anyone.’ He calls them. ‘Badger, Tatt, here.’ They amble towards him and stand one at each side of their master. ‘You know that, Mel,’ he adds, glancing past me.
    â€˜I’ve been wary of dogs since I almost got bitten in the nuts,’ Mel says crudely. ‘That’s one big advantage of being a female farrier.’
    â€˜If you’re trying to say I have no balls, then you’re wrong,’ I say lightly.
    â€˜Ha ha, she’s quicker than you,’ Robbie says, smiling.
    â€˜So she should be. She spent three years at university, only to change her mind and become a lowly apprentice with one of my mates.’
    â€˜Drive on through and park anywhere you like.’ Robbie points towards the gateway into the next yard, where I stop the truck alongside another more modern block of looseboxes made from breezeblock and clad with timber. There’s a barn filled with bales of hay opposite, a pathway leading to the fields and paddocks beyond, and a larger-than-average arena with a rubber and sand surface.
    I suppress a wave of ‘yard envy’, an affliction suffered only by horse owners, as I get out of the truck and admire the facilities: plenty of rings for tying up, a dedicated wash-down area and floodlights. I open the tailgate, slip into my leather apron and lift out the anvil and trolley, setting up while Mel looks on and Robbie fetches his horse.
    â€˜Nelson’s for new shoes all round.’ He ties him to the baler-twine loop on a ring in the wall beside the nearest loosebox. ‘How is that crazy horse of yours?’
    â€˜He’s fine. It’s me who’s traumatised.’
    â€˜What else have we got this morning?’ Mel asks.
    â€˜Scout – that’s my brother’s horse,’ Robbie explains for my benefit. ‘And then there’s T-rex, but he’s for a trim, that’s all.’
    â€˜It’s your lucky day, Flick,’ Mel says. ‘T-rex is a real sweetheart.’
    â€˜Do I detect some sarcasm in your voice?’ I ask, relieved that I don’t have to do all the Saltertons’ horses at once. When I was working for Tony, he had a team of apprentices at different stages of training, so we could get through many sets of shoes in a day. It’s a lot slower when there’s only one of you.
    â€˜T-rex is your typical naughty pony,’ Robbie says.
    â€˜So why is he named after a monster?’ Mel jokes. At least, I hope he’s joking.
    â€˜Is tea all right for everyone?’ Robbie asks. ‘Mum’s got the kettle on.’
    â€˜That’s good for me,’ I say.
    â€˜Sugar, or are you sweet enough already?’ Mel says.
    â€˜I’m more than sweet enough, thank you,’ I say firmly, making it clear from the start that I’m not going to put up with any nonsense.
    I turn my attention to Nelson, making a quick assessment of his general health and temperament. Silky feather grows down from his fetlocks to partially cover his dark grey, almost black hooves. He looks well and he seems calm, the expression in his dark brown eyes bright with