The Grayson Trilogy Page 5

  “Hi, I’m Will Carlton.” He extended his hand to shake mine, holding it for a fraction too long. He indicated towards my overalls, adding, “Did you buy a pair you could grow into?” and he chuckled, the others following suit.

  “No, I’ve just discovered that one size does not, in fact, fit all,” I replied tightly, then forcing myself to at least try to appear relaxed, smiled briefly back at him. He turned and indicating to the others, said, “Here we have Scott Wade, Ben Hayes and Josh Turner, at your service.” I raised my hand to them in greeting.

  “So what do you want us to get started with?” Carlton asked. I led them over to the stables and explained what I’d started and therefore what they could continue with. I was a little concerned that I wouldn’t have enough equipment for them all to use but they’d brought some of their own anyway so they all got going. Carlton and I continued with the stable I’d already begun, and Wade and Hayes started in the next stable while Turner began diluting the disinfectant ready to use on the first stable as soon as we’d finished. Turner was the youngest, probably only in his late teens while the others were early to mid-twenties. He still had the gangly build of youth, yet to fill out like the others who all had the muscled frames of young men who worked at it. The gym must be a popular place here, I thought. I found Carlton easy to work with; we chatted quite comfortably, there being no awkwardness in the silences either.

  Mid-morning I made coffee for everyone and later on, Susie, happy that it was safe for me to be left for a while, wandered off exploring. We’d completely finished three of the stables. Carlton was just starting on the fifth box, being the first of the pony-sized ones, and I was about to join him when I looked up to see a man coming across the yard towards me. As it was by then late morning, I guessed this must be Trent, recognising him as my early-morning runner. He was dressed casually in jeans and a red checked shirt, his collar open, his sleeves rolled up. I was surprised as he looked considerably more casual than his manner on the phone last night had indicated he might be. I was also expecting someone older, but he could only have been in his mid-thirties. The most striking thing about him though was his hair, which was dark and unruly, cut in a medium-short style with wavy curls contrasting sharply against the very short hair sported by all the other boys in the yard. I walked through the gate in the yard fence to meet him and as he approached I could see him look down at my overalls, a small smile coming over his previously serious face. I was already feeling quite tatty by then and was pretty sure I had cobwebs in my hair so I probably wasn’t in the best shape to be meeting someone for the first time. He held out his hand as he approached and I shook it firmly.

  “Good to meet you, Grayson, I’m Trent,” and I could see a twinkle come to his eyes as he added, “Nice overalls.”

  “Thank you, Trent, they’re very, er…practical,” I replied a little indignantly, for some reason feeling the need to defend my overalls.

  “How are my boys working out then?”

  “Very well thanks, we’re making good progress,” and I gave him a short update on what we’d achieved so far.

  “Sounds good. Everything else okay with the cottage?”

  “Yes, it’s all fine, thanks again for organising everything.”

  “No problem. Now, thinking about the work for the rest of the week – the boys, or at least some of them, should be able to come over most days to get all of this sorted out for you.”

  I could feel myself start to tense. “There’s really no need, Trent, I’m sure they have other duties to do, and I wouldn’t want to keep them from that. I’m more than capable of doing this alone you know,” speaking as if trying to convince him.

  “Hmm…You let me worry about their other duties. While you may well be capable of doing this work alone, they’re available at the moment to help. They will be here each day, until the yard is ready,” he answered firmly, his tone stern, eliciting no response from me as I bit back the one I wanted to give in my frustration at him appearing to exert his control over what I already saw as my domain. I’d been a little intimidated under his intense gaze as he’d spoken, but I met the steel of his blue eyes with my own challenge, determined not to be the one to look away.

  I felt Carlton bounce up beside me, breaking the moment. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and much to my surprise, hugged me towards him, nearly lifting me off my feet.

  “Hi, Trent, isn’t she adorable?” he said enthusiastically, and I saw what looked like alarm flicker across Trent’s eyes as his gaze passed fleetingly from one of us to the other.

  “You certainly seem to be finding her so,” he murmured thoughtfully, his smile not reaching his eyes this time. Carlton met his gaze calmly for a few moments before letting me go, excusing himself by muttering he’d better get on and turning back to the stables.

  “Right, I’m going to be off now, let me know if you need anything,” Trent said, looking at his watch, and at that moment Susie appeared from round the back of the stables running towards him, barking at the latest stranger who’d appeared in her new territory. Trent, taken by surprise, warned, “If that dog starts wandering the estate I’ll have to chain it up.”

  That sealed it. He was too controlling, and while it was one thing him trying that on with me it was quite another bringing Susie into it and my natural instinct to defend her was behind my firm response: “If you want to touch a hair on my dog, you’re going to have to come through me first and you don’t want to make the mistake of thinking that will be easy.” I was glaring at him, Susie softly growling at my side, and he stared back at me, his eyebrows raised in astonishment. His eyes sparked with some emotion I couldn’t fathom, followed by the briefest twitch of his mouth as if he found this amusing, me amusing, and I narrowed my eyes at him, just daring him to smile. He hesitated for a moment before closing his eyes briefly as he raised his hands in defence.

  “Okay, okay, I won’t touch your dog,” he said, in an attempt to placate me.

  “Her name is Susie.”

  “Of course…Susie…” Giving me a small smile he turned to leave. “It was good to meet you Grayson…Have a good day.”

  I stared after him, unmoving, though softly told Susie to quieten as I watched him cross the yard. When he’d gone I turned back to the stables and the boys, who’d all witnessed this exchange, and who now returned quickly back to their respective jobs. I went to join Carlton in silence, Susie now close by my side.

  “That went well,” he joked sarcastically.

  “Too much?” I asked, hearing the anxiety in my voice.

  “Little bit…possibly. I’ve never seen anyone speak to their boss like that before, and on their first meeting too, and I’m fairly certain Trent has never experienced anything like it.” He grinned as he said this.

  “Oh God,” I moaned, “I’m not going to last a week here am I?”

  Carlton chuckled, infuriating me even more.

  We worked on in silence, giving me more than enough time to think through what I thought Trent would perceive as an irrational reaction brought on by my need to defend Susie. I knew some would say she was only a dog but to me she was a lot more than that, she was all I had. I tried to rationalise my outburst by putting it down to the fact he’d already wound me up. I wasn’t used to having someone telling me what to do, and in fact generally kept away from people who wanted to. It certainly wasn’t something I’d ever accepted well. I remembered only too vividly the running arguments I’d had at my last foster home with my foster father, Brian. It had been unfortunate that I’d been placed with him and his wife, Sheila, when I was fifteen and in the most belligerent phase of my teenage years. He’d tried to control everything I did, said or wore; he tried to stop me working at the stables because he didn’t like horses, and I’d rebelled against his constant interference in my life, arguing furiously and defying him at every turn.

  Life had been miserable during that time but settled down once Alex and I got together. He was easy-going, and actively encou
raged my independent streak, helped no doubt by the fact we’d met young, growing and developing together as we’d moulded ourselves comfortably around each other’s lives. Though, as it turned out, he had not appreciated how special our relationship was as much as I had.

  We stopped for lunch – the boys had brought their own and they came over to the cottage to eat, sitting in the garden. I brought out mugs of tea, and after finishing their food they ate their way through my tin of biscuits. There was good camaraderie between the boys as they joshed with each other, although I started to get the feeling they were playing it up a little in front of me as if vying for my attention.

  We got back to work and by the end of the afternoon had all six stables fully cleaned and disinfected. Turner had also gone round each of the windows making sure all the grills were secure with no protruding nails.

  They were about to leave, the other three having already gone to the truck, as I locked up the feed room and noticed Carlton hanging back a little. I looked at him enquiringly and without hesitation he asked me to go out for a drink with him. I was a little taken aback at his directness, although his naturally flirtatious manner had not gone entirely unnoticed all afternoon.

  “Thanks for asking, Carlton, it’s flattering, but I have to say no, I don’t date.”

  “What, not at all?” he queried, frowning as he said this.

  “No, not at all.” I looked at him apologetically. Momentarily crestfallen he picked himself up remarkably quickly.

  “We’ll have to see what we can do about changing your mind then, shan’t we,” he said, winking at me as he sauntered off to the pickup before driving off. I felt uneasy at his response as I’d hoped he’d just accept my refusal; however, that didn’t seem to be likely. I’d been determined in my resolution on coming here and I wasn’t about to renege on that. I had no intention of getting involved with anyone, no intention of putting myself in the position of being able to get hurt again, but already that resolve seemed to be slipping away from me as more was being asked of me than I was willing to give and my quest for solitude felt further away than ever.

  The next day progressed in a similar fashion to the first. It was the turn of the feed, tack and store rooms to get the scrub down. After lunch we tackled the barn, cleaning it down and sweeping it out thoroughly. We were going to get finished a little earlier than the previous day but there was no point in starting anything else and I was putting away the brushes when Wade appeared in the doorway of the store room. Leaning against the doorjamb he crossed his arms, showing off the tribal tattoos that ringed his biceps; he gave me one of his stunning smiles, flashing a set of perfect teeth. Judging by the way the boys had all behaved with me during the day I suspected I knew what was about to follow and when he started to say, “I was wondering if you…” I stopped him by raising my hand firmly.

  “Whoa. Are you about to ask me out?”

  Looking a little dumbstruck at my abruptness, he nodded, then squeaked a reluctant, “Yes.”

  “Right, come on, and round up your mates. We need to have a talk.” Leading him out into the yard I headed purposefully in the direction of my cottage, indicating that they should all follow me, which they did straight into the kitchen where I sat them down at the table.

  “Now, we need to get something straight,” I said, still standing. “I’ve enjoyed the last couple of days working with you but for me that’s where it has to end. I may be being presumptuous here, but I need to head this off now. I don’t date and I don’t want to be constantly having to watch my back wondering who’s going to pounce next. I’ve never been used to this sort of attention and I don’t know if it’s because I’m some sort of fresh meat on the estate or something but it’s got to stop…”

  “But why wouldn’t you want to go out with one of us?” Turner interrupted.

  “Firstly because I’m quite a bit older than all of you…and particularly you,” I said, as I looked pointedly at him. “And secondly…” I paused, not quite sure how best to get my point across. “Secondly, I have a whole load of shit going on that believe me none of you would want to get involved with, not least of which is that I’ve recently come through a divorce from which I’m only just starting to recover. The most I’m looking for is friendship – I can’t do the whole one-on-one thing.” I paused again, looking hesitantly round at them before finishing cautiously, questioning, “What do you think, could you work with just being friends?”

  There was silence for a moment, then Carlton piped up. “I guess we can give the ‘being friends’ thing a go,” and he grinned up at me. The others relaxed and the tension in the room dissipated.

  “Okay,” I said, smiling back at them with relief. “Now who wants a beer?” Going to the fridge I took out the bottles I’d brought with me, handing them out. As we drank we chatted. I’d found it reassuring that the boys had clearly not been aware of anything about my past. I’d been concerned on coming here that because of the background search carried out maybe everyone here already knew things about me I’d rather they didn’t, but that was obviously not the case. It was likely then that the only people who did know were Cavendish, Grace and Trent and they appeared to show discretion when it came to someone else’s business, for which I was grateful.

  “What you’ve just told us does at least explain why you’re so solemn. It hadn’t gone unnoticed over the last couple of days,” Hayes said, as he stretched back in his seat.

  “I’ve not had much to laugh about for an awfully long time,” I replied by way of explanation.

  “Well, we shall see it as our mission to get you laughing again then, because even though I say it myself…we’re fucking hilarious,” he responded, grinning at me, his deep brown eyes, as richly dark as his skin, shining at me with humour as I smiled back and the others laughed.

  “We’ll be going to The Red Calf in Melton on Friday, it’s our local. Would you like to come with us?” Wade asked.

  “I’m not sure, I’m not really planning on doing any socialising,” I replied carefully, still not wanting to involve myself more than I had to. They then badgered me incessantly, wearing me down until I accepted the invitation, then, thinking they were helping, reassured me it wouldn’t only be them there, I’d have the chance to meet others from the estate too. Great, I thought as they left, just what I wanted, more people to meet.

  As I went to shower I thought about the word Hayes had used to describe me. Solemn. It was a good adjective to express how I felt most of the time. There hadn’t been much to lift my spirits over the last few years. The devastation I’d experienced at losing Eva had been compounded, cemented into place by the betrayal that followed until it’d felt like an impossible load constantly weighing me down.

  I’d been at work one day, a few months after Eva had died, and had been asked by Barney to attend a meeting with one of our suppliers. I’d seen it in my diary a few days before but it had slipped my mind when I’d left for work that morning, and as I’d gone to work in a plain skirt and shirt, and as I was passing our house on the way to the meeting, I’d decided to call in to pick up a jacket in an attempt to look a little more professional.

  I’d gone upstairs quickly, heading straight to my wardrobe. There was a full-length mirror on the front of the door and as I reached in the door swung fractionally and a small movement in the mirror caught my eye. I’d turned round slowly to see Alex and Amy looking at me in horror from our bed. The initial shock had hit me with a force that sucked the air right out of me; my mind struggled to fully comprehend, to fully believe, but when it did the realisation released a raging storm in me, which almost forcibly threw me into the next part of the grieving process – anger.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I’d screamed at them. My pent-up emotion built up over so many weeks and months spewed out in a torrent of furious verbal abuse that I’d hurled at them. Alongside the vicious words, I’d thrown anything I could lay my hands on – they’d looked ridiculous as they dodged the shoes
and books that came their way, both naked, both trying to grab clothes, fighting over the duvet to cover up what little dignity they had. My fury threw them out of the house and I was left shaking, my body reeling, retching as I vomited up my disgust.

  I’d sat for a while on the bathroom floor, trying to get a grip on my emotions, but the anger had continued to rage through my body as I’d then arranged to have the locks changed, putting everything that Alex owned outside in a pile of boxes and bags.

  I’d woken the next morning, after a bad night, and realised the true meaning of being alone. I’d always thought of myself as alone ever since my parents had died but now realised that even the differing levels of company provided by my various foster parents had been better than this.

  When I was five years old I was placed with my first foster parents where I learnt a hard lesson. Unsurprisingly I’d been frightened and lost and latched onto them in my grief but was left hurt and bewildered when I was passed on after only two years to another couple. My perception then was that I was only being looked after because they were being paid to do so, not because they’d cared. From then on I’d seen each set of them as providers of a roof over my head and food on the table and I hadn’t expected anything else. Suspicious of any sign of affection that might draw me closer to them, I rejected any love that came my way knowing it would only be taken from me again anyway.

  Alex had been different, he’d worked hard to get close to me, he’d made me believe he loved me and that I could love in return, he’d made me believe I was everything to him. But after this how could I ever trust anyone again?

  I’d known there wasn’t anyone who would come to help me. Alex’s family wouldn’t. They’d never liked me anyway, seeing me as too strong-willed, too single-minded. Not the sort of girl they’d wanted for their son. I’d had the impression his father in particular had wanted someone for Alex who could be kept in line, controlled; someone like his mother, someone who I’d viewed as weak. I’d known they’d be only too delighted he’d left me.