Page 37 of One Last Thing
I grimace. ‘God. Let’s hope his English is bad.’
‘Don’t worry, this will be fine,’ Nico maintains, as the horse turns her head to nibble at the hem of his shirt. ‘She’ll do it. I’ll go speak to her.’
‘I’m not sure you’ll be able to change her mind. She seems to have made her decision,’ I say, watching her march on her heel back to the car.
Unfazed by Mum’s behaviour, Nico shrugs. ‘I can be persuasive.’
With a secretive smile, his eyes meet mine and a warmth courses through me.
***
There are two things I can say with absolute certainty that will be engrained in my memory forever after today: one, the sight of Nico pulling himself up on a horse and taking control of the reins with such ease that my mouth ran dry; and two, the sight of my mother mounting a horse with the grace of a drunk panda, two stable hands aiding her ascension, whilst she was screeching that this will be the death of her.
‘Someone get me a Valium! Now!’ she cried as the horse shifted slightly. ‘Nico, is Valium called Valium in French? Or should I be asking for something else?’
‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to have drugs when horse riding,’ he said calmly.
‘What about vodka?’
‘Dawn, you are fine. Look, you’re a natural,’ he insisted as she gripped on for dear life, gasping loudly as her guide led the horse a couple of steps forward.
‘If I survive this, I willkillyou,’ she hissed at Nico, but he didn’t seem to mind.
Working in hospitality, he’s probably used to occasional dramatics from a dissatisfied customer. It was quite the start to our expedition and I think a few of the other tourists were entertained by the scene. I imagine they were wondering why I’d force my mother to do something she’s so obviously averse to.
I was asking that very question of Dad when we first set off, feeling genuinely sorry for her, she was so nervous. But with a great guide giving her tips and explaining the sure-footedness of the Mérens horses along the difficult terrain, combined with Nico’s relaxed, convincing encouragement, her confidence has steadily grown. When I last glanced back, she was a little more relaxed in the saddle, even managing to look out at the breathtaking scenery.
I don’t remember it being this beautiful. I guess when you’re a kid you don’t appreciate nature in the same way, or I certainly didn’t anyway. We walk along green pastures and rolling hills to a blue, sparkling lake at the foot of the mountains, a sight that makes you feel humbled and small and insignificant but special and part of something at the same time.
Stopping to drink it in, I don’t realise I’m crying until Nico asks me if I’m okay, pulling his horse up next to mine. I quickly wipe the tears away with the back of my hand, mortified that he’s seen them. I pull myself together.
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ I assure him.
He nods, gazing out at the view, too. He doesn’t press for more, but it feels weird to leave it there.
‘I’d forgotten how much I love horse riding, you know?’ I say, appealing to him with a weak smile. ‘It would have been a long time before I’d remembered if Dad hadn’t . . .’
I gesture to my horse before reaching forward to pat her neck.
He doesn’t say anything straight away, but after a while says, ‘I wish he were here.’
‘Me too.’ I hesitate. ‘I mean, he sort of is. He’s in my bag, so. This is what he wanted, to come along, too. Even if, when you think about it, it’s a bit—’ I wrinkle my nose ‘—creepy.’
‘Yeah,’ Nico says, a playful smile on his lips. ‘Creepy but nice.’
We walk on, joining the back of the group making their way around the lake. When Mum wobbles a little as her horse navigates the rocky path, her shriek of, ‘Oh,fuck this!’ echoes around the tranquil mountain sides and a laugh erupts from me before I can stop it, Nico’s ensuing chuckles not far behind.
***
2007: Nineteen years ago
‘Here,’ Dad says, passing me a glass of orange and pineapple squash as I lay on the sofa, my foot raised on a pile of cushions.
‘Thanks, Dad.’
As I take a sip, he sits down at the other end of the sofa to inspect my ankle.
‘It looks a bit swollen,’ he remarks.
