‘Are you okay?’ I asked, rising and approaching her.
‘Yes. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?’
I put my hands up in surrender. ‘All right. Sorry. You seem tense, that’s all.’
‘I’m just hot. What are you doing? What’s that book?’ She went into the living area and picked up A Night in the Woods. She groaned. ‘Not you too. Ryan says his parents never stop banging on about this shit.’
‘Frankie!’
I very rarely heard her swear. But I decided to let it go. I was hardly a saint myself when it came to bad language, and yet again I had to remind myself she was almost grown-up now. There were far worse things than swear words. I’d just been reading about some of them.
She dropped the book and appeared to hesitate for a moment. Then, to my great surprise, she threw her arms around me and rested her face against my chest.
‘Love you, Dad,’ she said.
‘I love you too.’
As quickly as she’d hugged me, she pulled away. ‘Isn’t it time we got going?’ she said.
‘Huh?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Aren’t we supposed to be pony-trekking?’
Of course. I had completely forgotten.
I put the murders from my mind and headed out with my daughter.
Chapter 13
Before she’d moved to the States with her mum, I had taken Frankie for riding lessons every week, never missing them even when I was at my lowest ebb and my career and marriage were falling apart. It had been one of our things, a dad-and-daughter activity, although I hadn’t ridden myself. I drove her there, sat and waited in the car while she had fun, and then, on the way back, we would stop for milkshakes and cake at a local café. I found it hard to think back on those days without getting emotional. I’d had no idea back then that my time with my family was so limited.
I didn’t blame Sarah for leaving me. I knew I had become impossible to live with: grumpy and morose much of the time; filled with self-pity and hard to love. I was no longer the man she had married. I did blame her, however, for taking Frankie to America. I had never imagined she would do such a thing, and she claimed it wasn’t something she had planned either, until a job opportunity came up that was too good to miss. I could have fought for custody. I might have been able to get a court order to stop her taking Frankie, who didn’t want to go either. But I had no money to pay for lawyers and, well, I had no fight in me. That was part of the problem. And in the end I realised it would be better to go along with Sarah’s wishes. I needed her to give me access to my daughter.
The situation became normal. We settled into a routine. My trips to the US were special. But it was on days like this – reminded of what we’d once had, and knowing that I was missing most of her adolescence – that I had to try extra hard to keep a brave face.
We gathered with a couple of other families on the edge of the resort, the horses still out of sight. Frankie seemed nervous.
‘Are you okay?’ I asked.
‘Yeah. It’s been a long time.’
I was a little nervous too. This was going to be my first time on horseback in years.
The instructor, a woman called Susan, had handed out helmets and was running through the health and safety instructions, and telling us about the route we were going to take. Through the woods for a couple of miles, which would take us close to Penance, then loop back to where we started.
‘It will take about an hour,’ Susan said. She was young and sturdy-looking, with brown hair cut in a bob. ‘How many of you are experienced riders?’
A couple of women raised their hands and I nudged Frankie. Susan noticed.
‘You know your way around horses?’ she asked.
Frankie gave me her patented ‘thanks for embarrassing me’ look and said, ‘I used to ride every weekend when I was a kid.’
‘Well, in that case I’ve got a beautiful pony you can take out, honey.’
Susan went through a gate towards the stables, and over the next ten minutes she and another woman brought out the horses and ponies. They had already been saddled and they plodded along with their noses down, flanks shining in the afternoon sun.
‘This is Magpie,’ Susan said, giving Frankie the reins of a beautiful piebald pony. ‘We only let more experienced riders take her. Is that going to be okay?’
‘Why’s that?’ I asked. The pony kept hoofing the ground and tossing her mane. I was worried she might be skittish.
Susan smiled. ‘Oh, Magpie is quite a character. But if you’d rather I fetched one of the quieter ponies . . .’