This Could Change Everything(76)

Ow. Stumbling and wincing as a red-hot pain shot up her leg, she only just managed not to fall to the ground. Reaching out, she rested her hands on the car’s bonnet and caught her breath, allowing the waves of pain to expand and worsen before they receded.

Please don’t let anyone have noticed. Because if they had, she already knew what they were going to say.

Still breathing through the onslaught of pain, for a couple of seconds Zillah thought she’d got away with it. Then came the sound of footsteps racing across the yard in her direction.

‘I saw you slip,’ Scarlett panted, skidding to a halt. ‘Are you OK? Give me the keys so I can open the door, then you can sit in the car.’

‘I’m fine.’ The silver lining was that twisting her ankle had effectively banished the incipient tears that had brought her over here in the first place. ‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ she insisted. ‘You know what these little sprains are like – hurts like crazy for a minute, then the pain goes away. It’s getting better already, I can feel it.’

This was true, but sadly it didn’t prevent Scarlett from looking askance at Zillah’s midnight-blue patent stilettos. ‘Are these the new shoes Essie was telling me about, from L. K. Bennett?’

‘Maybe.’

‘I think she warned you they were too high, didn’t she?’

‘I’m used to heels,’ Zillah protested. ‘I’ve worn them all my life.’ She adored stilettos; they made her feel better about herself.

‘I know, I know.’ Scarlett was sympathetic. ‘But these are higher than you usually wear.’

‘And don’t they look gorgeous? Don’t nag, darling. Flat shoes just aren’t me. There, all better now.’ The pain had lessened enough for her to waggle her ankle. She gingerly put some weight on it and struck a pose. ‘Ta-daaaa! See?’

‘OK, you win. If you’re sure you’re all right,’ said Scarlett.

When they returned, Jerry was greeting the rest of the horses in the yard. Scarlett was taking yet more photos when her phone rang – not for the first time that afternoon – and she rolled her eyes. ‘It’s him again. Shall I answer it this time?’

‘Go on.’ Zillah could only imagine Conor’s frustration. ‘Put him out of his misery, the poor boy.’

‘Hi, Conor,’ Scarlett said happily into the phone. ‘I haven’t dropped your camera yet! And I’ve taken some great pictures. Jerry keeps telling everyone he’s so glad he got me instead of you.’

Zillah listened as they went on to exchange technical talk about apertures and light meters. Then Scarlett hung up, sent several of the uploaded photos over to Conor and waited until her mobile rang again.

This time she put it on speakerphone.

‘They’re good.’ Conor’s tone was grudging.

‘They’re better than good.’ Scarlett did a little air-punch. ‘They’re magnificent.’

‘You did a great job. I was worried you wouldn’t,’ said Conor, ‘but you did.’

‘See? You didn’t need to worry.’

‘I know that now. You have talent.’

‘Oh, I have many talents.’ Scarlett grinned mischievously. ‘I promise you, I’m full of surprises.’

At the other end of the phone, Conor sneezed and Zillah called out, ‘Bless you!’

‘Thanks.’ Conor paused, then said, ‘Scarlett, could you take me off speakerphone now?’

Scarlett did so, then listened to him for a few seconds. Zillah watched with interest as a flush of pink coloured her cheeks before she smiled slightly at whatever Conor had just said, and murmured, ‘No, you’re right.’ Then, having listened some more, she said, ‘I promise.’

Finally she ended the call and put her phone away.

‘Before we go,’ said Jerry, ‘can we take a look at that sculpture we passed on the way in?’

He said his goodbyes to the horses, then together they wheeled him down the driveway to the racing yard’s main entrance, where a life-sized sculpture of a leaping stallion occupied pride of place on a central plinth. The stallion had been constructed from galvanised steel wire that gleamed silver in the afternoon sunlight. The owner of the stables joined them. ‘Pretty spectacular, eh?’

Jerry nodded. ‘Amazing. Who’s the artist?’

‘His name’s Johnny LaVenture. He lives over in Channing’s Hill,’ said the owner. ‘I saw an exhibition of his work a couple of years back and knew we had to commission one of his pieces for this place. Everyone loves it.’

Jerry reached over and ran his thin fingers over the steel wire flank of the stallion. ‘Take a photo of me, Scarlett.’

Scarlett already had her camera at the ready. As she moved around him, snapping away, Jerry said, ‘You’re a lovely girl, you know. Got a boyfriend at the moment?’

‘Me? Nooo, I’m a sad singleton!’ Scarlett pulled a comical face. ‘It’s a tragedy; no one I fancy ever fancies me.’

‘Well, more fool them. That’s what I say.’ He beckoned her towards him. ‘Come on, let’s have a selfie of you and me together. Just use your phone. You can send it to that guy who keeps ringing you up. You never know, maybe seeing you with a handsome older man will bring him to his senses.’