Catch a Falling Star
Steve pushed the wheelbarrow wearily out of Ladybird’s stall and into the yard to the muckheap, where with one heave he added the soiled bedding to the continuously growing pile. Steve pondered the thought that if they didn’t get it moved soon, it would eventually take over the yard. He stretched and yawned, as he did so Ladybird nudged him hard in his back with her nose. Steve swung round.
“Hey, stop that.” He snapped, shoving the mare away roughly. “I’m working as fast as I can, unlike some...” He glared over to the tack room, where the strumming of a guitar could be heard, and Ron’s not so dulcet tones interrupted the yard’s silence. Ladybird hung her head sadly, and looked at him forlornly from under her long eyelashes.
“Sorry, old girl.” Steve reached out and patted the poor creature’s shoulder. “Just a while longer, then you can go back in and have your breakfast.” He said softly. Reassured Ladybird nuzzled him.
Dora, witnessing Steve’s short temperedness from Copper’s stall, sighed loudly. She was becoming increasing concerned over Steve, his moodiness which since his early days at Follyfoot had become a rare occurrence, now seemed to have returned with a vengeance. It was a concern that was keeping her awake at nights; she couldn’t understand why he was so grumpy, so much of the time. She thought they had sorted out their differences over the running of Follyfoot, and the distressing circumstances of their last argument as to whether Steve or she should leave. The conclusion had been inevitable....they both needed Follyfoot and they both needed each other.
Now what was the matter with him? Putting on a false smile, Dora bolted Copper’s half door and strode over the yard to Steve.
“Hi Steve.” She said as cheerily as she could muster. “Ladybird giving you hassle over her breakfast.” Dora patted Ladybird’s rump.
“Yeah.” Steve answered half heartedly.
“I’ve finished my stalls, do you need a hand here.” Dora offered.
“Nah.” Steve picked up the wheelbarrow and made his way between Ladybird and Dora to the barn.
Answering in one syllables, seemed to the sum effort of conversations with Steve at the moment, thought Dora, following him through the open barn door.
“What’s the matter, Steve?”
“Nowt.” Steve replied without looking at her. He reached up grabbed a bale and dropped it heavily into the barrow.
“Doesn’t seem like it. Got out the wrong side of the bed this morning, did you?” She tried to keep her voice light and friendly but in reality she wanted to scream at him.
“No!” He turned to face her, his face like thunder.
“Then what’s wrong, Steve? Why are you so grumpy?”
“Nothing, nothing’s wrong.” He retorted. “It’s just...” He stopped and let out a sigh, as his eyes caught the worried look on Dora’s face. “Nothing, honestly.” He shook his head. “You’re right; I’ve just got out of bed the wrong side today, that’s all.” His hand reached out as if to touch her arm, he allowed it to hover by her elbow for a second then pulled it back to his side.
“I’ll just go and finish her ladyship’s stable then we’ll go and have our own breakfasts, eh.” He managed a small smile, throwing another bale on top of the other; he picked up the wheelbarrow and headed out of the barn.
Dora watched him push the barrow over the cobbles with such ease as if it was empty. She thought about his hand hovering at her elbow. He seemed to no longer want to have any physical contact with her. Once he would have laid his hand gently on her arm to reassure her, or even place his arm around her shoulders to comfort her if she was upset. She loved the feel of his body close to hers. But now it was if he was unable to bear to touch her at all.
“Oh, Steve.” Dora felt the tears welling up in her eyes.
Steve joined in the conversations at breakfast time, answering her questions, even joining in the banter with Slugger and Ron. But Dora could tell it was just an act for their benefit. Back in the yard, he worked quietly on his own. Not once seeking out Dora for a chat as he used to do.
Steve was using the saddle soap on Alex’s old saddle when Ron sidled up to him, a piece of hay stuck in his mouth.
“Watcha, Steve. I’ve been thinking, some of me mates have got a band together and are playing in the village hall tomorrow night and I was wondering if.....”
“Sorry, mate.....I don’t feel like coming, ta. Especially if their anything like the last rubbish band you dragged me along to see.” Steve interrupted, rubbing the soap vigorously into the cracked leather with an old cloth.
“Actually, mate, I wasn’t asking you, thought I might ask Dora, what do you think?” he sneered at Steve.
“What? You’re going to ask Dora. You are kidding me?” Steve let out a scathing laugh. “What makes you think she’d want to go, especially with you?”
“And why shouldn’t she?”
“Well, you and your greasy biker mates are hardly her scene.”
“There ain’t nuffin’ wrong with me mates. Anyway, at least she’d have fun and excitement with me.”
“Oh...yeah!” Steve scoffed.
Heading for the door, and furious at Steve’s scorn Ron threw at last remark over his shoulder at Steve before disappearing into the yard. “Well, more than she’d ‘ave with a miserable, boring old fart like you!”
Steve’s look darkened and he threw both the rag and the soap after Ron. The soap hit the door post with a splat and landed on the floor in two pieces. Turning, Steve kicked out at a full bucket of oats, sending the contents spilling on to the floor before stomping up the wooden stairs to his room.
Later in the day, Steve caught Ron and Dora having a tete a tete by the donkey pen. Ron was holding on to Dora’s arm, and she was shaking her head vigorously. Steve smiled smugly to himself.
A few moments later Ron’s sought Steve out in Alex’s stall, where he was combing out the appaloosa’s mane. Steve tried not to laugh as Ron stood by the door, his head bowed in embarrassment.
“Told you she wouldn’t go with you, didn’t I?” Steve sniggered cruelly. “Got some sense that girl.”
“Well, actually mate.” Ron spat, a grin broadening on his face. “She said....yes. She would be delighted to come. So there... ‘I’ve got a date with D...D...Doooraaaa’. He sang turning towards the yard and sticking two fingers up at Steve behind his back.
Steve frowned, thump the wooden post of the stall then spent the next angry thirty minutes, trying to remove a large splinter embedded deep into the side of his hand.
He passed the remainder of the day ignoring both Ron and Dora, and feigning a headache retired to his room before supper. He lay on the top of his wrought iron bed, his heart thumping, his temper at boiling point as his mind seethed at the thought of Dora accepting Ron’s offer. The night was long and sleepless; Steve only dozed off through, sheer exhaustion, as the cockerel from the neighbouring farm that wandered the adjacent fields crowed the dawning of a new day.
That day was Saturday and luckily for Steve his six weekly Saturday off, which he more often than not spent visiting his Aunt Milly and elderly grandmother. He hadn’t made arrangements to go this time but felt he couldn’t stay all day at the farm in Dora’s company. So after doing his share of the stables and refusing breakfast, he made his leave and headed down the lane to catch the bus into town. But he never got to visit his aunt and grandmother, instead he wandered the streets, absentmindedly peering in shop windows, had two bacon butties at the local greasy spoon cafe, and spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the local park, watching the children playing happily with their parents and envying the young couples walking hand in hand stopping every now and then to steal a kiss oblivious to other people in the park. It was thoughts of Dora that consumed his mind all through the day, evoking a plethora of emotions from jealousy of her date with Ron through anger over his own stubborn pride to happiness when recalling the good times; their riding jaunts together, the closeness of their working relationship and on to something else, another emotion that he had yet to fully admit to.
When an elderly couple sat down beside him, and holding hands themselves began to reminisce about old times and young love, he could stand it no longer he got up from the bench and made his back to the bus station and Follyfoot.
On his return to Follyfoot and although it was barely six o'clock, he discovered that Dora had already left on her date with Ron. Slugger informed him that Ron had picked her up early with an offer of meal before the concert in the village hall. At Slugger’s insistence Steve ate supper with the old man, trying hard to cheerful and chatty but making a very poor job of it. This didn’t go unnoticed by Slugger, who shrugged and shook his head sadly as he watch Steve climb into the Land Rover and drive off at an angry speed down the drive as soon as supper was over.
Steve found himself propping up the bar in the village pub for the next hour or so, drowning his sorrow in several pints of beer. His forlorn presence there received furtive glances and whispered remarks from the pub’s regulars. But Steve was so engrossed in his own world he didn’t noticed their interest. Even the busty barmaid couldn’t get him to engage in conversation, despite her flirty advances. Downing his third pint in one go, he left the pub and resisting the urge to gatecrash the concert in the village hall, he drove back to the farm and finished off the bottles of Theakston’s Old Peculier ale he had stashed in his room.
Thankfully he had left the pub just before the band finished playing in the hall opposite, otherwise Steve would have witnessed Ron swaggering into the bar with his arm around Dora’s waist.
Ron had surprised Dora by arriving early without any prior warning. She hadn’t even started to get ready, so keeping him waiting in the kitchen, his cowboy boots clicking impatiently on the stone floor, she hurriedly threw on a dress, refreshed her eye makeup and shoved her feet into a pair of dressy sandals.
Ron’s choice of dinner venue was the local Berni Inn, where he munched his way through a large plate of steak and chips and Dora tried to eat her choice of scampi and chips in a basket but she wasn’t hungry and most went uneaten, that was until Ron decided he still had room to finish them off, he wasn’t one for wasting good food, especially food he paid for.
Dora sat through the concert in silence, not really enjoying the mediocre sound made by the mostly talentless musicians on the small hall stage. Ron to Dora’s pleasant surprise was very attentive towards her, making sure she was okay and including her in conversations with his mates. His arm around her shoulders most of the time, which she wasn’t sure whether she liked or not.
Ron found an empty table in the corner of the pub and left Dora there while he went to the bar for drinks. She had hoped that they would be having a few quiet drinks on their own, her head was beginning to thump from the music, and if she was honest with herself she did enjoy Ron’s company, when he was on his own he could be both interesting and funny, she liked the fact that he made her laugh. But their quiet drink was not to be, as a group of Ron’s friends descended on to their table. As each round of drinks appeared on the table, the group became more rowdy and the conversations more lewd. Even Ron’s attention to Dora dwindled and she found herself sitting next to a drunk guitarist from the band, who’s amorous advances were starting to make her feel sick. Dora removed his clammy hand from her leg and disappeared into the ladies toilet. There she let the welling tears flow and she found herself saying Steve’s name out loud.
Back in the bar, Dora prised Ron’s away from his mates, and insisting that she had had a lovely evening, she really did need to go home. Seeing she was upset, Ron sobered up quickly, and finding out that his mate had been hassling Dora, promised to sort the drunkard out. Dora convinced Ron she was fine, and asked for a lift home, which he regretfully agreed too, he too had been enjoying Dora’s solo company earlier in the evening. She requested that Ron dropped her off half way up the lane to the farm, wishing to walk the rest of the way alone. She needed to clear her head.
Sitting on the wall by the donkey’s pen, a favourite pondering place of Dora’s, Steve was also trying to clear his head, but his was of the affects of the beer and he wasn’t having much luck. He couldn’t remember when he had last drunk that much; he was certainly going to suffer for it in the morning. He had initially thought some coffee might have helped but was reluctant to venture into the farmhouse kitchen where he no doubt would receive the third degree and lecture from Slugger, so made do with some water from the tap in the yard. He had heard the roar of the bike in the lane, the engine noise seeming louder in the still of the night. He expected it to coming roaring into the yard, but oddly enough the sound all of sudden began to fade into the distance. He must have been mistaken it couldn’t have been Ron’s bike, besides it was still early, Dora probably wouldn’t return to the early hours, if she returned to the farm at all that night. He thumped the wall hard with his fist; the thought of Dora spending the night with Ron sent all his emotions reeling. It made him feel nauseous. He turned his back to the yard and breathing deeply continued to contemplate the moonlight on the surface of the lake.
The noise of footfall on the gravel made him turn back to the yard, where in the bright moonlight he could see Dora walking through the farm gate, she appeared to be heading for the old dead tree that stood only yards from Steve’s perch on the wall. For all his good intentions to remain calm; Steve’s temper got the better of him and he jumped down off the wall with a thump, startling Dora who had no idea he was there.
“Home a little early, aren’t we?” he said sarcastically. “Oh don’t tell me, you and lover boy had a tiff, have you?” He tutted and shook his head in mock sadness.
“No.” Dora took a step back as Steve approached her, his menacing look frightening her, a little. “And he’s not my lover boy. It’s not like that, Steve.”
“Oh, no!” Steve gave scathing laugh.
“No.” Dora retorted. “Ron invited to his mates’ concert, that’s all. It wasn’t like it was date or anything.”
“That’s not the way Ron looked at it. It was definitely a date to him.” Steve said. “He even bragged about it.”
“Well, it wasn’t. You could have come along too, if you wanted but you were too busy being moody.”
“Oh yeah, me playing gooseberry, haven’t you heard of the saying ‘three’s a crowd, girl.” Steve spat ignoring the last part of Dora’s sentence. He had moved closer now and Dora could smell the beer on his breath.
“Steve, how many more times I have got to say it......it wasn’t a date. It was just a meal, a concert and a few drinks between friends. That’s all! I had no intentions of treating it in any other way. I’m not interested in Ron like that.” Dora said becoming annoyed.
“I noticed he couldn’t even be bother to bring you all the way home....typical of the thoughtless git” Steve interrupted.
“Actually, he would have but I asked to be dropped off down the lane, I fancied a walk, wanted to clear my head.” She paused. “What am I doing, I don’t have to explain my actions to you... we aren’t married.” Steve’s anger was rubbing off on her, as the argument became more and more heated.
Steve gave out a scornful laugh. “You’re right there, Dora. We aren’t married and never, ever will be, after all, I’m just the hired help, the low life, aren’t I?” His eyes blazed.
Dora’s heart was thumping and tears once more began to well in her eyes. His last remark had stung her, hurting her deeply, just as if he plunged a knife into her heart. She turned away and took a step away from this man, this angry man who she hardly recognised, she had never known Steve to be drunk before and it scared her.
“That’s it, walk away.....that’s what you normally do when you can’t take the truth.”
“Oh, go away, Steve. You’re drunk!” Dora cried. This time it was Steve who felt the sting. And he was suddenly sober, standing with his hand to his mouth, a shocked look in his dark eyes.
“Dora!” He shouted and grabbing her shoulder roughly swung her around. Just for a second fear enlightened on her face, fear of what he might do or say. She tried to pull away but his grip was like a vice. In panic she began to thump his chest with both fists, sobbing uncontrollably as she did so. Then suddenly he was gathering her up in his arms, his mouth finding hers, he kissed her hard, stopping her sobs in their tracks. After she had got over the shock of Steve’s spontaneous and initially alarming action, Dora began to enjoy this pleasant sensation and allowed her arms to curl around Steve’s neck pulling him even closer and deepening the kiss. She didn’t even mind that he tasted of beer.
After a few delightful, breathtaking minutes their lips parted and Dora looked up at Steve and found herself staring straight into his deep brown eyes where she saw that the real Steve was still there, the gentle, caring Steve that she knew and loved had never actually gone away and she was ecstatically happy.
They stood for what seemed like hours, just holding on to each other. Dora’s face buried into Steve’s neck, her tears making a wet patch on his jumper, and Steve, his eyes closed, resting his head on hers, on his face a look of relief and contentment.
“I’ve waited a long time for this.” Dora squeezed him, cuddling in tighter to his body. “What happens now?” She whispered.
Steve sighed. “I don’t know.” He answered quietly. “We’ll just have to take things as they come, one day at a time.”
The distant church chimed 11 ‘o’ clock and Steve untangled his arms from around Dora and held her off. “I think a good night sleep in order. You might not need your beauty sleep but I definitely do!” He smiled at her. “And Dora, I’m sorry for just now.”
“What, the kiss?” She bowed her head sadly, just like Ladybird. Steve’s smile broadened.
“No, silly. The nastiness...it was the drink, I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay Steve, I much to blame too. I’ve had a few drinks too!” Dora said embarrassed.
“You drinking? How many?” He asked, still smiling.
“Two port and lemonades.” Dora replied seriously.
Steve laughed again but this time it was kind, gentle laugh. “Two port and lemonades....wow girl, that much!” Dora laughed and thumped him playfully on the arm.
Dora stopped laughing. “You okay now, Steve?” She reached up and stroked his cheek. He nodded pushing his face into the palm of her hand, feeling the softness of her fingers against his skin.
“And you?”
“Yes.” She said softly. “Steve, I’ve been so worried about you. We need to talk.”
“I know...but not tonight.” He ran his fingers through her hair.
“Tomorrow, Steve.”
“Yes, tomorrow.”
“You promise?”
“Yes, I promise.”
A movement in the night’s sky caught Dora’s eye. “Look Steve, a shooting star, how lovely!” Silently she made a wish but one wish had already come true.
Steve held out his hand as it fell disappearing into the night, clasped his hand shut and put his hand briefly in his pocket. “Better save that for another day, no doubt we’ll need it.”
“Oh, Steve.”
He pulled her towards him once more and their lips met again in a long lingering kiss that each wanted to last forever...and if love (and the wishing star in Steve’s pocket) had anything to do with it, it probably would.
A mile down the road, Ron removed his gaze from the sky above and kick started his bike into life, his was one wish that wouldn’t come true. “Oh, well.” He sighed heavily.”Plenty more stars in the sky, as they say.” His words hung in the night as his bike roared around the bend and on into the darkness and the village pub with its’ busty barmaid, beyond.
The End.
Sue Hirst©2008