Distraction

Chapter Thirteen

Strains of Verdi's String Quartet in E-minor drifted across the yard as Libby slipped off Shakespeare's saddle. The muted notes Vanessa coaxed from her cello sparked memories of Libby's first professional role for the English National Ballet and the inevitable tears fell. There had to be thousands of classical pieces Vanessa could play, why that one today?

'For Christ's sake, Tallulah.' Robbie's voice, loud and angry, obliterated the music.

Libby ran to the tack room, the saddle over one arm as she wiped at her eyes, no doubt smudging her make-up. She couldn't let him see her crying. It sounded as if he was in the garden. She could escape unnoticed.

'Five minutes,' he yelled. 'I asked you to keep an eye on Dora for five minutes but you're too busy texting Chloe. Go and check in the Wendy house.'

Dora was missing? Libby dried her eyes on her t-shirt, hoping she didn't look too Alice Cooper, and peeked out onto the yard. Dora sat in the sandpit, merrily upending a bucket to create a perfect little sandcastle. The cello music never stopped, so Libby reluctantly broke her promise to stay out of the way.

'Libby!' Dora leapt up, hugging her leg.

Libby took her hand, leading her to the garden. 'Rob? She's here.'

He sprinted over, his face pale as he picked up Dora, kissing her head over and over. He mumbled to his daughter that she wasn't to run off, his relief palpable but doing nothing to diminish his frown.

'Are you okay?' Libby asked, unused to seeing him with stubble or shadows under his eyes.

'Why are you here?' he snapped.

'I took Shakespeare out. You said... What's wrong?'

'Oh, piss off, Libby. It's nothing to do with you.'

He stalked away, leaving her stood with tears once again looming.

The first, distant rumble of thunder filled the valley as she plodded into the village. All she needed now was for god to smite her down with a thunderbolt. The humid air stifled her, like breathing through a hot rag. Robbie hated her. She'd interfered, over-stepped the boundary. He wasn't her friend; he was her boss. Why did she always over-step boundaries at work?

The first drops of rain fell as she walked into the Square. The odd, fat blob hit her bare arms, and then the deluge started, but she didn't have the energy to run. Why did Vanessa have to play the Verdi? She'd danced to it at Covent Garden. The Guardian had laid praise at her feet, promising a long, world-class career. But here she was, about to be sacked from the only job that had made her happy in three years.

Her t-shirt and jodhpurs were drenched by the time she'd reached the cottage, but she didn't care. Just another disaster to add to the shambles she called her life. Her tears mingled with the rain. A glass of wine. A vast glass of wine.

Hammering noises, greeted her, making her stomach churn. Jack was working, why? She'd successfully avoided him for five days. Zoe trotted down the stairs, in a scarlet linen shift, ready for a date with Greg. Why did Zoe find someone so easily and Libby's life was filled with unsuitable types?

'You're dripping on the new floorboards.' Zoe peered in the mirror, checking her immaculately straightened hair.

'I'm going to get fired.'

Zoe stopped her preening. 'Why?'

Libby explained, slumping against the wall.

'But he can't fire you for that. He should apologise.' Zoe applied a coat of scarlet lipstick, but didn't let up on the inquisitive frown. 'You really fancy him, don't you?'