Chapter Two:
Aware of sunlight pouring through curtainless windows, Matilda opened her eyes and winced, as a sledgehammer pounded her optic nerves. Clutching her forehead, she swivelled her head gingerly and saw Jude’s side of the bed was empty. Oh hell – she hadn’t even unpacked – now she’d overslept and there was so much still to do! Rushing into the bathroom, she threw on yesterday’s jeans and t-shirt then bolted the stairs to sprint into the kitchen. Jude swallowed a mouthful of cornflakes and greeted her with a smile and a bright ‘Good Morning.’
As Matilda told her girlfriends, Jude’s mood swings were part of the price to pay for living with a brilliant artiste. When her closest friend Bib enquired ‘Did Jude tell you that?’ Matilda didn’t speak to her for six months.
‘Morning darling.’ She replied, sitting opposite him to a ready prepared bowl of cornflakes. Together they chorused ‘I’m sorry about last night.’ Both stopped and laughed. ‘No really, I’m sorry. You’ve worked so hard, the cottage is perfect, just as you described, and then you had that meeting …’ Matilda hesitated, unwilling to voice her objections against developing the land.
Jude accepted her apology with a smug smile. ‘I’m just happy you’re happy. I’m sorry I snapped. And if Sebby’s started talking again … that’s the main reason we’ve relocated after all.’ Matilda's headache lifted a little. Jude was so sweet, trying so hard to make amends. Last night had been all her fault. ‘I promise now he’s started talking again, I’ll stop smothering him so much.’ Jude nodded approval, then checking his watch pushed back from the table. ‘Gotta get a wiggle on sweetie – sorry haven’t had a chance to tell you – it’s a pain, but they need me back in London. Photo shoot at the Natural History Museum. I’ll try to make it home by the weekend.’
Matilda’s mouth dropped open in surprise, but before she could protest, Jude swept his car keys up from the kitchen table, shouldered his camera case, kissed her forehead and made his escape. ‘You’ve got plenty to keep you busy anyway darling, I'll only be in your way.’ He called over his shoulder. Moments later Matilda heard the Ferrari fire up and roar away. Bib’s voice drifted back to her. ‘Good old Jude. He’s managed to wangle himself a cottage complete with housekeeper in the west country!’ Sebby had been present at the time, and regarded her thoughtfully with narrowed eyes, and for a semi-beat seemed about to speak; but the moment passed and so did Matilda’s opportunity to put Bib in her place.
But he's talking now! Matilda hugged herself at the thought, and made a mental note to update the psychiatrist. Swallowing a couple of paracetamol, she tidied the kitchen tipping the uneaten cornflakes away, and hearing movement upstairs followed by flushing water laid out a breakfast place for Sebby. He still looked wan and undersized for his age, but as he entered the kitchen she detected a new confidence in him.
‘Morning Sebby.’ Matilda held her breath while Sebby did his usual trick of examining her face as if to reassure himself that it really was her, Aunt Matilda, and she hadn’t somehow changed overnight. Then with a sheepish grin, Sebby murmured the word: ‘Morning.’ Matilda turned away to busy herself with the cooker while her mind did back flips, biting her tongue in an effort not to overwhelm him with questions. Sebby accepted her offerings of eggs and bacon with a wry smile and a simple ‘thank you.’ Matilda dragged her eyes away, in an effort not to watch his every movement, every mouthful. Finally she registered the cluttering of cutlery against an empty plate and Sebby's voice piped up: 'thank you.’
‘You're welcome.’ Matilda had her back turned, making more tea.
'I don’t mean just for the breakfast. I mean thank you for everything.’ His words pieced her shoulder blades to find her heart. Matilda turned to face him. A twelve year old boy with eyes that seemed ancient. And didn't some people believe that eyes were windows to the soul? They were fixed on her now with the gravity of a professor. ‘You’ve been more than an aunt to me, you’ve been my second mother.’ Sebby hesitated, dropping his head slightly to smile shyly from under his fringe he added. ‘Do you think anyone would mind if I …. I mean it isn’t disrespectful or anything.’ He blinked rapidly and the rest of his words came out in a rush. ‘I shouldn’t call you aunty. Mum. I should call you mum.’ An unexpected rush of emotion took Matilda's breath away and she couldn’t speak - but her answer must have been written in her face, because Sebby nodded: ‘Good. That’s settled then.’ Pushing back from the table he ran upstairs to dress. Barely seconds later he sped past her into the garden where he galloped round whooping loudly. Matilda guessed how much the matter had been playing on his mind. Bib could jeer all she wanted, this decision had been so right for Sebby. Midway through checking provisions in the fridge and cupboards, Matilda froze as his clear high pitched voice floated into the kitchen.
‘Who are you and what do you want?’
Matilda hurried to peek through the day room window. Greg D’Silva stood in the drive, wearing baggy blue jeans tucked into black wellies, a red plaid shirt rolled up past his elbows, an arm slung casually round a pony which could have modelled for the cartoonist Thelwell.
'See your manners haven’t improved any young man.’
Sebby stuck his hands on his hips, but his eyes seemed transfixed on the pony’s black and white markings; a white splodge covered one eye, giving it the cutest expression. Beast and boy took a step towards each other, when Sebby reached out a hand the pony stretched its neck to nuzzle his palm.
‘Is your mum around?’
‘I think she’s in the kitchen. Whadaya mean about manners?’ Sebby tilted his head to squint up at Greg, who stared steadily back, both taking the measure of each other. The pony buffed its head against Sebby's chest, causing an impulsive grin to lift Sebby's face, and he blurted 'What's her name? And I'm Sebastian Pendance by the way, who are you?'
Matilda was torn being wanting to rush upstairs to change quickly, and rushing to Sebby’s side in case Greg D’Silva took it upon himself to chastise her boy. Vanity won. When she entered the garden ten minutes later Sebby clutched the pony’s lead rope, while it stood patiently as D’Silva demonstrated how to pick out hooves and check for laminitis.
‘Mum! Mum – guess what – this is Greg – I knocked him down last night – but it's alright he’s not cross. But he needs a favour – he wants us to look after Peddy – she’s got so fat ‘cos she’s eating too much and Greg says she needs someone to exercise her and make sure she don’t eat too much grass and our fields are just right and we don’t have to if you say no but if you say yes then we can keep her for as long as we want.’ He finally ran out of steam and stopped for breath, his face imploring. Easily reading Matilda's mind Greg reassured her. ‘She’s a sturdy little pony, never sick or sorry, safe as houses.'
By now Sebby had an arm curled round the pony’s neck. When he uttered the magic words ‘Please mum?’ Matilda caved in. Without waiting for an answer Sebby punched the air, gave her a brief hug and hurriedly led Peddy to inspect her new home.
Matilda felt concussed. ‘But we don’t know anything about horses.’ She wailed.
Shrugging off a rucksack, Greg handed it over. ‘All in here. Grooming kit and instructions on how to water your pony.’ He said with a triumphant expression. ‘Don’t look so worried. If she seems off colour, give me a shout.’
‘What about saddles and hard hats?’
‘I’ll drop her tack over at the weekend. You’ll have to get the kid fitted for his own hat. But if I know boys, he’ll be riding bareback like a little Indian before the week’s out.’ He scratched his chin. ‘He’ll probably tumble off a dozen times too, but that’s what makes a horseman.’ He frowned at Matilda’s look of horror. ‘Lighten up woman. You can’t wrap them in cotton wool you know.’ He touched her elbow as he spoke and Matilda was dismayed at the tingle which shot through her. Flustered, she stammered her thanks and remembering her manners offered coffee.
‘Thanks, but I need to head back.’ Fishing a card from his back pocket he said ‘That’s me. Don’t forget, any worries, give me a shout. Anytime.’
Unexpectedly Sebby reappeared ‘Thank you Greg. We promise to take good care of her.’ His eyes still shone. Greg almost managed a smile and offered his hand. ‘That’s okay killer. Your mum’s kind enough to reopen our bridle path, least I could do.’ Matilda thought she heard an apology in there somewhere. Before she could explain that she hadn’t yet discussed the matter with Jude, she felt her own hand grasped and almost cried out as shocks raced up to her elbow. Fortunately Sebby chose that moment to hug her again, and she buried her confusion in his hair as he waved Greg off.
‘Bye Greg, bye. Come back soon. You wait Peddy’s gonna get so fit. Bye – Bye.’ Sebby called. ‘Isn’t he the best?’ he demanded before dashing back to Peddy’s side. Matilda followed more slowly in a daze. For the past two years, her mind had constantly worried over Sebby. She’d barely even grieved properly over her brother, sister-in-law and niece. Yet here he was chattering nineteen to the dozen about plans for Peddy, shoving Greg’s scrawled notes into her face, peppering his one sided conversation with the word ‘Mum’ at least a dozen times.
The glorious day shimmered on, and just as Greg predicted Matilda found herself gingerly leading Peddy round the orchard while Sebby perched on her back. Cautiously at first, hands buried in her shaggy mane, but as confidence increased sitting back and urging her into a faster walk.
It was almost midnight before Matilda finished unpacking and snuck into bed exhausted. Sunlight woke her again, she still hadn’t put curtains up. Today promised to be even busier, thinking of all the tasks ahead she became aware of crockery chinking from the kitchen. ‘Oh help! Jude’s home early!’ Springing from bed, she zapped downstairs.
‘Aww! Mum! You’ve spoilt it. I was going to bring you breakfast in bed for a change.’ Sebby’s face was flushed, the worktop sprinkled with debris. Following her gaze to the tray preloaded with scrambled eggs toast and cereal he grinned, reading her mind with uncanny accuracy. ‘No I haven’t touch the cooker.’ He teased. ‘I know you’d only worry I’d burn the place down or something.’ Urging her to sit down and eat, he made tea, wielding the kettle with exaggerated care.
‘Hurry up. I’ve got a lot to do today. I wanna make a little enclosure outside the small barn for Peddy – you know like a little corral. It’ll be great to groom her and keep her off the grass.'
She stared at him. ‘What?’
Sebby munched into a slice of toast slathered in marmalade. ‘Yeh – I spoke with Greg and he told me where to get the posts and wire and so on. He reckons it’s a great idea.’
Matilda glanced at the clock hanging on the wall over the doorway. ‘It’s barely eight in the morning.’
‘I’ve been up since six. Greg said to give him a shout anytime.’
Matilda groaned outloud. She was certain he hadn’t meant that literally.
'Hurry up Mum. I need a haircut, some jods, and a hat.’
‘Is that all?’
‘A mobile phone would be good. A wheelbarrow, fork and yard broom.’
Matilda wondered if the loan of Peddy had been such a generous gesture after all. Then looking at Sebby’s face as he continued to chatter about the day ahead Matilda decided it was worth it. In fact, she would have gladly bartered her soul with the devil to have Sebby back in the land of the living again. Nothing and no-one would be allowed to take this happiness away from her and Sebby.
Aware of sunlight pouring through curtainless windows, Matilda opened her eyes and winced, as a sledgehammer pounded her optic nerves. Clutching her forehead, she swivelled her head gingerly and saw Jude’s side of the bed was empty. Oh hell – she hadn’t even unpacked – now she’d overslept and there was so much still to do! Rushing into the bathroom, she threw on yesterday’s jeans and t-shirt then bolted the stairs to sprint into the kitchen. Jude swallowed a mouthful of cornflakes and greeted her with a smile and a bright ‘Good Morning.’
As Matilda told her girlfriends, Jude’s mood swings were part of the price to pay for living with a brilliant artiste. When her closest friend Bib enquired ‘Did Jude tell you that?’ Matilda didn’t speak to her for six months.
‘Morning darling.’ She replied, sitting opposite him to a ready prepared bowl of cornflakes. Together they chorused ‘I’m sorry about last night.’ Both stopped and laughed. ‘No really, I’m sorry. You’ve worked so hard, the cottage is perfect, just as you described, and then you had that meeting …’ Matilda hesitated, unwilling to voice her objections against developing the land.
Jude accepted her apology with a smug smile. ‘I’m just happy you’re happy. I’m sorry I snapped. And if Sebby’s started talking again … that’s the main reason we’ve relocated after all.’ Matilda's headache lifted a little. Jude was so sweet, trying so hard to make amends. Last night had been all her fault. ‘I promise now he’s started talking again, I’ll stop smothering him so much.’ Jude nodded approval, then checking his watch pushed back from the table. ‘Gotta get a wiggle on sweetie – sorry haven’t had a chance to tell you – it’s a pain, but they need me back in London. Photo shoot at the Natural History Museum. I’ll try to make it home by the weekend.’
Matilda’s mouth dropped open in surprise, but before she could protest, Jude swept his car keys up from the kitchen table, shouldered his camera case, kissed her forehead and made his escape. ‘You’ve got plenty to keep you busy anyway darling, I'll only be in your way.’ He called over his shoulder. Moments later Matilda heard the Ferrari fire up and roar away. Bib’s voice drifted back to her. ‘Good old Jude. He’s managed to wangle himself a cottage complete with housekeeper in the west country!’ Sebby had been present at the time, and regarded her thoughtfully with narrowed eyes, and for a semi-beat seemed about to speak; but the moment passed and so did Matilda’s opportunity to put Bib in her place.
But he's talking now! Matilda hugged herself at the thought, and made a mental note to update the psychiatrist. Swallowing a couple of paracetamol, she tidied the kitchen tipping the uneaten cornflakes away, and hearing movement upstairs followed by flushing water laid out a breakfast place for Sebby. He still looked wan and undersized for his age, but as he entered the kitchen she detected a new confidence in him.
‘Morning Sebby.’ Matilda held her breath while Sebby did his usual trick of examining her face as if to reassure himself that it really was her, Aunt Matilda, and she hadn’t somehow changed overnight. Then with a sheepish grin, Sebby murmured the word: ‘Morning.’ Matilda turned away to busy herself with the cooker while her mind did back flips, biting her tongue in an effort not to overwhelm him with questions. Sebby accepted her offerings of eggs and bacon with a wry smile and a simple ‘thank you.’ Matilda dragged her eyes away, in an effort not to watch his every movement, every mouthful. Finally she registered the cluttering of cutlery against an empty plate and Sebby's voice piped up: 'thank you.’
‘You're welcome.’ Matilda had her back turned, making more tea.
'I don’t mean just for the breakfast. I mean thank you for everything.’ His words pieced her shoulder blades to find her heart. Matilda turned to face him. A twelve year old boy with eyes that seemed ancient. And didn't some people believe that eyes were windows to the soul? They were fixed on her now with the gravity of a professor. ‘You’ve been more than an aunt to me, you’ve been my second mother.’ Sebby hesitated, dropping his head slightly to smile shyly from under his fringe he added. ‘Do you think anyone would mind if I …. I mean it isn’t disrespectful or anything.’ He blinked rapidly and the rest of his words came out in a rush. ‘I shouldn’t call you aunty. Mum. I should call you mum.’ An unexpected rush of emotion took Matilda's breath away and she couldn’t speak - but her answer must have been written in her face, because Sebby nodded: ‘Good. That’s settled then.’ Pushing back from the table he ran upstairs to dress. Barely seconds later he sped past her into the garden where he galloped round whooping loudly. Matilda guessed how much the matter had been playing on his mind. Bib could jeer all she wanted, this decision had been so right for Sebby. Midway through checking provisions in the fridge and cupboards, Matilda froze as his clear high pitched voice floated into the kitchen.
‘Who are you and what do you want?’
Matilda hurried to peek through the day room window. Greg D’Silva stood in the drive, wearing baggy blue jeans tucked into black wellies, a red plaid shirt rolled up past his elbows, an arm slung casually round a pony which could have modelled for the cartoonist Thelwell.
'See your manners haven’t improved any young man.’
Sebby stuck his hands on his hips, but his eyes seemed transfixed on the pony’s black and white markings; a white splodge covered one eye, giving it the cutest expression. Beast and boy took a step towards each other, when Sebby reached out a hand the pony stretched its neck to nuzzle his palm.
‘Is your mum around?’
‘I think she’s in the kitchen. Whadaya mean about manners?’ Sebby tilted his head to squint up at Greg, who stared steadily back, both taking the measure of each other. The pony buffed its head against Sebby's chest, causing an impulsive grin to lift Sebby's face, and he blurted 'What's her name? And I'm Sebastian Pendance by the way, who are you?'
Matilda was torn being wanting to rush upstairs to change quickly, and rushing to Sebby’s side in case Greg D’Silva took it upon himself to chastise her boy. Vanity won. When she entered the garden ten minutes later Sebby clutched the pony’s lead rope, while it stood patiently as D’Silva demonstrated how to pick out hooves and check for laminitis.
‘Mum! Mum – guess what – this is Greg – I knocked him down last night – but it's alright he’s not cross. But he needs a favour – he wants us to look after Peddy – she’s got so fat ‘cos she’s eating too much and Greg says she needs someone to exercise her and make sure she don’t eat too much grass and our fields are just right and we don’t have to if you say no but if you say yes then we can keep her for as long as we want.’ He finally ran out of steam and stopped for breath, his face imploring. Easily reading Matilda's mind Greg reassured her. ‘She’s a sturdy little pony, never sick or sorry, safe as houses.'
By now Sebby had an arm curled round the pony’s neck. When he uttered the magic words ‘Please mum?’ Matilda caved in. Without waiting for an answer Sebby punched the air, gave her a brief hug and hurriedly led Peddy to inspect her new home.
Matilda felt concussed. ‘But we don’t know anything about horses.’ She wailed.
Shrugging off a rucksack, Greg handed it over. ‘All in here. Grooming kit and instructions on how to water your pony.’ He said with a triumphant expression. ‘Don’t look so worried. If she seems off colour, give me a shout.’
‘What about saddles and hard hats?’
‘I’ll drop her tack over at the weekend. You’ll have to get the kid fitted for his own hat. But if I know boys, he’ll be riding bareback like a little Indian before the week’s out.’ He scratched his chin. ‘He’ll probably tumble off a dozen times too, but that’s what makes a horseman.’ He frowned at Matilda’s look of horror. ‘Lighten up woman. You can’t wrap them in cotton wool you know.’ He touched her elbow as he spoke and Matilda was dismayed at the tingle which shot through her. Flustered, she stammered her thanks and remembering her manners offered coffee.
‘Thanks, but I need to head back.’ Fishing a card from his back pocket he said ‘That’s me. Don’t forget, any worries, give me a shout. Anytime.’
Unexpectedly Sebby reappeared ‘Thank you Greg. We promise to take good care of her.’ His eyes still shone. Greg almost managed a smile and offered his hand. ‘That’s okay killer. Your mum’s kind enough to reopen our bridle path, least I could do.’ Matilda thought she heard an apology in there somewhere. Before she could explain that she hadn’t yet discussed the matter with Jude, she felt her own hand grasped and almost cried out as shocks raced up to her elbow. Fortunately Sebby chose that moment to hug her again, and she buried her confusion in his hair as he waved Greg off.
‘Bye Greg, bye. Come back soon. You wait Peddy’s gonna get so fit. Bye – Bye.’ Sebby called. ‘Isn’t he the best?’ he demanded before dashing back to Peddy’s side. Matilda followed more slowly in a daze. For the past two years, her mind had constantly worried over Sebby. She’d barely even grieved properly over her brother, sister-in-law and niece. Yet here he was chattering nineteen to the dozen about plans for Peddy, shoving Greg’s scrawled notes into her face, peppering his one sided conversation with the word ‘Mum’ at least a dozen times.
The glorious day shimmered on, and just as Greg predicted Matilda found herself gingerly leading Peddy round the orchard while Sebby perched on her back. Cautiously at first, hands buried in her shaggy mane, but as confidence increased sitting back and urging her into a faster walk.
It was almost midnight before Matilda finished unpacking and snuck into bed exhausted. Sunlight woke her again, she still hadn’t put curtains up. Today promised to be even busier, thinking of all the tasks ahead she became aware of crockery chinking from the kitchen. ‘Oh help! Jude’s home early!’ Springing from bed, she zapped downstairs.
‘Aww! Mum! You’ve spoilt it. I was going to bring you breakfast in bed for a change.’ Sebby’s face was flushed, the worktop sprinkled with debris. Following her gaze to the tray preloaded with scrambled eggs toast and cereal he grinned, reading her mind with uncanny accuracy. ‘No I haven’t touch the cooker.’ He teased. ‘I know you’d only worry I’d burn the place down or something.’ Urging her to sit down and eat, he made tea, wielding the kettle with exaggerated care.
‘Hurry up. I’ve got a lot to do today. I wanna make a little enclosure outside the small barn for Peddy – you know like a little corral. It’ll be great to groom her and keep her off the grass.'
She stared at him. ‘What?’
Sebby munched into a slice of toast slathered in marmalade. ‘Yeh – I spoke with Greg and he told me where to get the posts and wire and so on. He reckons it’s a great idea.’
Matilda glanced at the clock hanging on the wall over the doorway. ‘It’s barely eight in the morning.’
‘I’ve been up since six. Greg said to give him a shout anytime.’
Matilda groaned outloud. She was certain he hadn’t meant that literally.
'Hurry up Mum. I need a haircut, some jods, and a hat.’
‘Is that all?’
‘A mobile phone would be good. A wheelbarrow, fork and yard broom.’
Matilda wondered if the loan of Peddy had been such a generous gesture after all. Then looking at Sebby’s face as he continued to chatter about the day ahead Matilda decided it was worth it. In fact, she would have gladly bartered her soul with the devil to have Sebby back in the land of the living again. Nothing and no-one would be allowed to take this happiness away from her and Sebby.
The Bridle Path is available from Amazon.com for 99cents, or Amazon.co.uk for 77p and is around 30,000 words. The following e-books are also available to sample & download now.
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