THE SPILL Ernie gazed at his reflection in the mirror, what did she see when she looked at him? Ernie knew what he saw in the mirror, a fifty five year old never was well past his use by date with one slippered foot on the edge of the grave. He wiped the condensation from the glass as he worked up a lather with the badgers brush, turning the collar of his shirt inside he grimaced at his reflection to determine where the most attention was required. He gave the cut throat razor several stokes back and forth on the heel of his case hardened working hands and started to scrape off the facial hair that made him look old. As he worked his way around his weather beaten face he was thinking about her, Chloe. She must be twenty years younger than him and at least twice as fit, she was beautiful and could have had any man she chose so why him? He could not figure it out; maybe it was that morning on the heath when she was thrown from her horse ‘Sunrise’. The horse had bolted and if he had not been out walking his dog ‘Rollo’ he might still be running now. He had stood right in the path of this bolting horse and with nothing more than the force of a calm mind brought the horse to a halt. As he led the horse by the bridle he spoke softly to it gently calming the frightened beast. When he found Chloe she was dusting the cooch grass from her otherwise pristine riding clothes. She had recovered an aloof composure and was walking toward him carrying the ridding crop that Ernie suspected had something to do with the reason she had been thrown in the first place. The beast, though still flighty, was beginning to calm. As Ernie spoke in whispered tones he wiped the muzzle of the beast with his spotted handkerchief, the handkerchief was impregnated with the smell of dry gin, it was something he always carried ever since his days in the regiment. It was part of that ritual that began every day; he would wash and shave, put on his army uniform, apply a few drops of gin to his handkerchief and hide a sprig of lavender in his top pocket. As a farrier with the horse artillery he was privileged to be a member of the ‘Horsemans society’ and so privy to the ‘Horsemans word.’ It was a sort of secret society a bit like the Freemasons but for anyone who had to work with horses. Ernie had been a member for many years. He had been initiated by the regimental blacksmith who had sworn him to secrecy on pain of death across the anvil in the regimental blacksmiths shop, part of the initiation involved Ernie having his hand burnt on the blacksmiths forge. He still had the scar from the burn and regarded it with some pride on those days when he missed the regiment. On ceremonial occasions you might have seen Ernie mounted on a black stallion walking beside the main column, Ernie would be the one carrying the highly polished ceremonial silver axe. On the field of battle it was his duty to dispatch fallen horses and to remove one their front hooves, the one that was etched with the horse’s unique army number. On his return to barracks it fell to him to clean the hoof, have it mounted on a piece of English oak and once polished put it on display in a place of honour in the regimental trophy room. He no longer had to don the uniform every day but the remnants of that ritual remained in the spotted handkerchief and the sprig of lavender. To horsemen it had long been known that the smell of juniper to a horse was that reassurance that the bearer could be trusted. The sprig of lavender came from an earlier time but was just as effective in purveying the illusion that it was what was said in whispers to the horse that calmed it and not the fact that the scent of juniper or lavender on a horses sense of smell had a similar purpose to that of aniseed on a savage dog, disorientation to allow a handler to gain control but it looked for all the world that it was what was being said rather than what was being done to the uninitiated. Ernie brought the horse to a standstill on the bridle path. Chloe was now quite close and was laughing half-heartedly in an attempt to divert Ernie’s attention from her inability to stay on the spirited horse known as Sunrise. “Oh thank you” she blurted out in an out of breath voice, “I don’t know what I would have done if you had not been here” she said checking Sunrise for any sign of injury. Ernie who still had tight hold of the horses cheek strap said “I think he will be alright now miss” Chloe had growing respect for Ernie, anyone who could single handily stop Sunrise from bolting and then calm him like this was a rare man indeed and worth knowing. As Ernie held the horse steady he was expecting Chloe to remount but instead she took the reins in her leather gloved hand and began to walk him around for signs of lameness but there was none. Satisfied that the horse was not hurt she said “Do you mind if I walk with you for a while”. Ernie felt a little uneasy as Chloe was from a different station in life. He had seen her at the local pub, she was usually surrounded by a herd of Hooray Henrys that had trouble accepting a negative concept, they all knew what no meant but there seemed to be part of it they could not understand if it came from anyone that did not drive a fast car and have at least a six figure bank account. Ernie like most of the villagers was not of the forelock tugging fraternity but was always wary of anyone that wore privilege as a badge of office. As they began to walk Chloe said, “Where did you learn about horses?” Ernie said, that he was a farrier by trade and had spent many years in the army. Chloe knew what a blacksmith was and knew that a farrier was something similar but decided it would be better if she resisted the temptation of asking Ernie to explain. As they neared the edge of the heath Chloe asked Ernie to hold Sunrise whilst she remounted, Ernie held the horse by the cheek strap and Chloe mounted, that is to say she would have mounted if Sunrise had behaved but as soon as she sat in the plate of the saddle Sunrise made it clear he was not happy. Ernie knew that something was not right; he suspected that there might be something wrong with the saddle. Not wanting to be thrown again Chloe leapt from the saddle in a manner that reminded Ernie of Buffalo Bill’s convention of rough riders. Ernie had one hand full holding Sunrise but the other hand shot out to break Chloe’s fall. As he caught her Ernie remembered thinking my god she was stacked when meat was cheap because she was heavier than she looked. “Are you alright miss?” he stammered. “Yes I’m Ok “ she replied a little shaken. As Ernie calmed the horse for a second time, Chloe said “look, you’ve saved my life twice in the last hour and handled me and my horse in a way that no man has ever done can we drop the miss, my name is Chloe, Chloe Smythe what’s yours”. ”It’s Ernie, Ernie Barford miss,” he said uncomfortably, smiling she said, “Watch my lips Ernie its Chloe,” she mouthed slowly. At that moment Ernie had the distinct feeling that his previous life had just ended and that a new one was about to begin as soon as she pressed the restart button. As Ernie checked the horse again he noticed new stitching at the edge of the saddle plate, Ernie said “Have you had some repairs done on the saddle miss?” annoyed that he had not complied with her request to use her name she said “Yes I had my name stitched into it, read it to make sure they have it right” Ernie silently read the label “Yes its right” he said. Chloe was a woman who usually got her own way, men, horses situations, she always had control until now and found Ernie’s reluctance infuriating. “Ernie” she said tersely “Will you please read my name out loud” Ernie looked at her, then looked at the saddle and slowly read her name “Chloe…… Smythe” Ernie had no idea what was taking place on that patch of worn out grass but Chloe did, She knew as soon as the birdsong stopped and the breeze paused so that she could hear him say her name for the first time. No one had ever said it like that, ever. She knew, that was it, he was the one. It was like the world was standing still awaiting Ernie’s approval to carry on. Ernie frowned as he looked at the saddle and flicked at the stitching with his finger. He suspected some irregularity with the stitching was the cause of the horses’ discomfort. He glanced at Chloe and said “There is something wrong with that saddle, we will have to unsaddle him and have a close look” Ernie looked around, where they were was not really suitable so Ernie suggested they go to his cottage at the edge of the heath. It would not have mattered if Ernie had suggested they take the horse to the dark side of the moon Chloe would have gone with him, at that moment the only place she wanted to be was anywhere he was. As they walked the horse they exchanged the pleasantries that would have come easily to two people who had known each other twenty years but with the probing uncertainty of two teenagers. Ernie led Sunrise up the path to his front door; he wanted to tether Sunrise to something that was solid because if the horse was in discomfort as he removed the saddle he did not want him bolting again. There was an ornamental boot scraper to the left of his front door, it was cemented into the path and Ernie thought that it would serve the purpose. He tethered the reins to the boot scraper and walked around the beast talking softly as he ran the flat of his hand along the horses neck. He let his hand find the girth something he had always referred to as the cinch strap, which came of watching too many westerns as a boy. As he pulled the strap to release the pin he saw the horse wince as he released the tension, he pulled the strap clear and asked Chloe to come and talk to Sunrise whilst he lifted the saddle clear. Chloe stood at the side of Sunrise telling the beast everything would be all right, as Ernie lifted the saddle clear he saw Sunrise relax and exhale as though he had just had an enormous weight lifted from him. Ernie checked the saddle blanket and replaced it on the horses back, turning his attention to the saddle he said to Chloe “Where did you have the work done on the saddle” She pointed to where her name had been stitched and said “Just there, nowhere else” Ernie ran his hand over her name, he felt nothing that would have explained the horses reaction. Turning his hand over he ran across the fleecy saddle lining that would have been in contact with the horses back, as he did so he felt a sharp stabbing pain at the tip of his fore finger. He pulled hid hand away abruptly; there was a flash of Ernie’s blood freshly drawn from the throbbing fore finger. Chloe saw the blood “Are you alright?” she said with a hint of panic. Ernie sucked at his finger, “I knew something was wrong” he said. Ernie turned the saddle upside down and put on his glasses, he still could not see it but he knew it was there somewhere. Carefully he finger tipped his way across the fleece under her name then said “There it is” pushing the fleece aside he exposed the cause of the horses discomfort, a curved saddlers leather sewing needle still attached to the thonging that spelt out Chloe’s name. The curved needle and its attached thong were in such a position that under normal riding with Chloe sat in the plate there would have been little or no problem but When Chloe stood to in the stirrups her full weight would have altered the point at which the horses back received the pressure of her weight and the needle would have pierced the horses back underneath the saddle. Ernie said “I am not surprised he threw you off with this needle sticking into his back, I’ll fetch some tools and put it right”. Chloe said, ”The saddlers left it there then” Ernie said he thought that was probably the case as he set the mahogany box on the table and opened the top drawer. Firstly Ernie unpicked the last syllable of Chloe’s name to give himself enough thong to finish and tie off, then he took a new thong and placed it in a saucepan of water to soak. Then he took a knife so sharp that if you looked for the edge at the sharp side of the blade you would have seen nothing, he cut of the excess thonging left by the saddler. Then he took the wet thonging from the saucepan and remade the last letter of her name, the stitching was loose but Ernie said,” When that dries out it will be as tight as a drum”. Together they re-saddled Sunrise and Ernie led the beast back along the path and out onto the grass where the heath began. Whilst Ernie held the horse in check Chloe remounted and then sat upright in the saddle. Ernie looked up at Chloe the sunlight bursting through her auburn hair and said “Have you got him now miss?” Ernie knew his instruction had been to call her Chloe but that was in a time of adversity, Ernie was testing to find out where he stood with her. Chloe glared down at him and said “Will you never learn, My name is Chloe, Chloe now, Chloe tomorrow, Chloe next week, Chloe, have you got it yet” Ernie looked away as he stoked the horse under the hard edge of the jawbone. Chloe did not want to leave Ernie before she had progressed this chance meeting further she patted sunrise on the side of his neck and not looking at Ernie said “Do you like pheasant?” Ernie said “Yes but I have not had it for years” Chloe seized her chance with the lethargic cunning of a cobra coiled for the kill, she said ”w..Well I have two birds hanging and its time they were eaten” Chloe shifted in the saddle it was now or never “Will you come to dinner tonight” then added with a little uncertainty “That is if you are free” Ernie was never one to pass up a meal he did not have to cook himself and besides, he had not had a meal home cooked by a woman for a very long time. Ernie said, “That would be nice, what time shall I come” Chloe said “Eight for eight thirty?” Ernie said, “I’ll be there” Chloe pulled on the rein and Sunrise wheeled right, “Walk on” she commanded, the horse complied. As she left Ernie standing by the picket fence outside his cottage she half turned backward in the saddle and called “Come hungry” Ernie waved as she disappeared beyond the horizon of the heath. Ernie went inside and began to put away the mahogany box that contained the tools that permitted him to practise the unseen wizardry of his calling. As he worked he replayed the events of the day through his minds eye, he still had almost total recall, he analysed it all and came to a conclusion but it was a conclusion that made no sense to him. He dismissed it, it was not possible she was just repaying a kindness, this woman was much younger than him, why would she be interested in that way, she could have anyone she chose what possible reason could there be for her to set her cap in his direction? Ernie felt uncomfortable with his train of thought and considered not going to her house that night but Ernie had always kept his word, if he said he would be there then there he would be. How difficult could it be to get through one evening meal with someone he had only known for a few hours and who knew nothing of him? Ernie knocked on the oak door of the dower house at the stoke of eight o’clock, he was carrying a bunch of assorted flowers he had cut from his garden not an hour since. There was no sign of life in the house and Ernie was about to walk away thinking he had got it all wrong, as he turned to go Chloe appeared at the side of the house. For a moment Ernie felt foolish, there he stood holding a bunch of flowers that meant he had not come empty handed to an expected feast. Chloe walked toward him, the dress she was wearing must have been designed by god and sewn together by angels or at least that’s what Ernie saw. “Ernie” she said, “Are those for me?” she smiled accepting the token. Ernie managed to stutter “y..Yes they are from the garden” She moved to his side and took his rough working hand then kissed him on the cheek. In the circles she moved in this was normal welcoming practice but in Ernie’s world it meant something quite different. She led him through a rose laden arch to a private garden at the rear of the house; “I thought dinner in the garden would be nice” she said leading him to the table set for two. She picked up the bottle of red wine and began to pour thoughtfully, “Sorry I did not think, would you prefer beer?” she asked. Ernie said “No reds fine” Chloe sat down and began the interrogation to determine whether she was on safe ground or was there someone else. They chatted to and fro for some time and then Chloe carelessly reached for the glass of red wine she had been sipping for nearly half an hour and made sure that the remaining contents of the glass found the intended target that was her beautiful dress. She stood up immediately holding the front of the wet dress away from her skin with the thumb and forefinger of both hands, “Oh dam” she protested and ran into the house through the open French windows. Ernie sat looking at the garden in an attempt to treat the incident as one that never happened. Chloe had been gone a few minutes when Ernie heard the sound of breaking glass from inside the house. He was not sure how to react but eventually decided to go and see if all was well. He walked across the freshly cut lawn to the French window; he stopped at the barrier, which was the step up into a very well appointed room. He saw no one in the room, he called her name, there was no answer he waited for a moment and thinking she may be injured stepped inside. Then he saw it, her dress, it was draped over the back of a chair to one side of the fireplace, slowly he picked it up, he had felt that velvety black softness before but at that time a mole he had dug from his garden had been wearing it, this was much softer. He took the dress to his face and breathed in the fragrance trapped in its Dior threads, he was sure it was Chanel but which one escaped him for the moment. As he put the dress back where he found it the sound of Chloe’s voice behind him said “The pheasants off I’m afraid” then added in an altogether lower voice “I will have to find you something else. Ernie lifted his eyes from the dress to the huge mirror over the ornate fireplace, and saw Chloe’s reflection; she was still wearing the black velvet choker around her slender neck its centre marked by that one flawless white pearl, Her gold wristwatch was the only other item of adornment. At that moment Ernie knew that he had entered the lair of a tigress but a tigress that might take no for an answer, if he had been crazy enough to deny that he felt the same way about her. It was not just the flattery of a woman half his age being prepared to go to this length to secure her prey, it was more than that, it was an affinity, not just with her but also with a spirited horse called Sunrise. As she entwined her fingers in his rough workman’s hands any concept of time paled into insignificance for she was his time and he was hers, irrevocably. JP.
Posted on: Fri, 21 Mar 2014 16:41:22 +0000
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