Michael grumbles, “I’m going to have to bloody well do this again, aren’t I…”
“Yes, you are,” says James blithely. “But you opted for that instead of peeling vegetables, didn’t you.”
Michael tugs his jacket around himself, scowling.
We follow the path to an outbuilding. Mitch’s ‘apartment’ is next door, but this is…
Charlotte’s face lights up. “The stable?” She spins on her two husbands, mittened palms raised to her cheeks. “Oh… You haven’t…”
Richard clicks his tongue. “Oh, yes, they have.”
From beyond the stable door comes a nicker. I’ve never had much to do with horses, but I know animals well enough to recognise the sound of welcome when I hear it. Charlotte dashes for the doorway, flinging back the bolts, hurling the top half-door back on its hinges.
The horse inside pushes forw
