Final Cut(41)

The girls trill with confident excitement. One peels off, saying she can’t make it but will come next time, while the remaining five or six accompany Monica towards The Ship. I wait until they’ve almost reached the corner before following and keep them in sight all the way up Slate Road. They chat, they look animated, happy to be going wherever Monica is leading them. Even Ellie is joining in, though she seems much younger than the others, looks almost like she’s trying to copy them, taking her cue from Kat.

At the top of Slate Road Monica waits for the stragglers, then they enter the car park, a clutch of chicks scampering after their hen. Monica approaches a battered Volvo estate and gets in the driver’s seat, Kat next to her, while Ellie is helped into the boot by one of the others. Once they’re loaded, Monica begins to reverse and I head towards my car, intrigued.

I set off unnoticed, aware suddenly of the whisky coursing through my blood. Monica drives out of the village and turns left, not towards Malby, as I’d expected, but towards Crag Head. We go past the turning for the lighthouse, then she takes a B road that heads inland, then another lane, even narrower. I watch Monica drive up it but don’t follow, parking instead a little further on before continuing on foot.

She’s left her car next to a metal gate. I climb the trail as it rises gently, my view blocked both left and right by tall bushes between which the path meanders. I hear voices in the stillness, Monica and the girls chatting happily, a distant crow’s plaintive caw, but little else. I jog a few steps, fearful of losing them, but as I round a bend I see they’re directly ahead, standing in a huddle just past another gate, at which Monica fiddles with a padlock. I film them for a moment then step back, still unseen, and wait until they’ve moved on before following them through that gate, too, and into the fields.

I hold my camera in front of me, still recording. The group is ahead, striding purposefully towards what looks like a large shed that sits in the near corner of the field with a yard in front of it. I skirt the edge, staying as close to the undergrowth as I can, and get as near as I dare. I spot two horses over in the middle of the field – one grey, the colour of the sky, the other chestnut brown; both wearing rugs – and it all makes sense.

I creep closer. Monica is unlocking the smallest of the three doors on the stable, chatting as she does. ‘Kat?’ she’s saying. ‘Give us a hand, would you, love?’

The others wait while Kat and she disappear inside what I’m guessing is the tack room. They re-emerge a few minutes later with blankets and head collars, then Monica takes the girls into the field itself.

She’s too far away for me to hear what she says, but she gets one of the girls to whistle; it’s surprisingly loud. Both horses look up from their grazing and, to the girls’ evident delight, begin to trot over. Monica makes a fuss of the grey one while the girls crowd around the other, then she shows them how to attach the head collar and a rope. When that’s done they lead the snorting horses gently back to the yard and tie them up, then Monica demonstrates removing the rug and lets the girls do it, before they scratch the withers. Monica rubs a hand over each horse, explaining something as she does, and the girls coo enthusiastically. They look like they’re enjoying a rare treat; even Ellie looks in her element, a long way from the anxious girl who’d left the arcade. Kat and a couple of the others erupt into laughter; I consider trying to get nearer, to hear what’s being said, but it’s too risky, I don’t want to be seen; I have no earthly reason to be here.

Still, I decide to try. I wait until Monica and the girls are engrossed. She’s kneeling at the horse’s foot, picking at it with some kind of metal tool while the girls watch, fascinated. I step forward, as slowly as I can, still filming. ‘Then we use a brush,’ she’s saying, and Kat passes her something. ‘Like this.’

‘It doesn’t hurt?’ says Ellie, and Monica shakes her head.

‘No, love. You can’t hurt her. Look, have a go?’

‘Can I?’

Monica hands the pick to a thrilled Ellie. The others watch as she attends to the hoof, though a couple seem to be getting restless, giggling among themselves.

‘Girls?’ says Monica, looking up. ‘Can you get the feed? Kat?’

Kat leads them into the stable, emerging with two brightly coloured tubs, one yellow, one green. They finish picking both horses’ hooves and Monica puts a different rug on the grey horse before letting the girls do the same with the brown. They pet both horses, stroking their muzzles, then Monica asks the girls to lead them into the stable and watches fondly as they begin to untie them. Ellie in particular seems to enjoy the connection with the neighing creature.

I move a little to the left to get a better shot, but my foot lands on a soft clod and my ankle goes over. A sharp shock, over in a moment, but still I gasp. Monica cocks her head slightly.

‘Kat?’ she says. ‘Come here a minute, would you?’

Kat does as she’s been asked. Monica murmurs something to the girl but, luckily, both are looking the other way, into the field, rather than towards where I’m hiding. I creep, as carefully as I can, backwards and to the right, keeping the horses between me and Monica as the girls lead them into the stable. Now, I’m right behind the building, out of sight. I crouch while Monica puts the day bars across the stable door and leads the girls into the tack room, then take my opportunity to escape, retracing my steps to the car, then driving back to Blackwood Bay.