breaths of sea air. “Everyone always wants to know where you’re going. What do you want to be when you grow up? What do you want to study at university? What car are you going to drive? What’s your life plan? What salary band do you want to be in when you hit thirty? When are you going to get a mortgage?”
“I wasn’t looking for your twenty-year plan.” I smirked. “Just a rough idea.”
She stared at me and her eyes were piercing, weighing me up. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”
“Your stable idea? Why would I?”
“You just would.”
“Why don’t you try me?”
She shrugged. “I used to think there was something wrong with me, that I had some kind of defect because I wasn’t as ambitious as my friends in high school. The career planners would tut and shrug at me and say I was worth so much more. I didn’t want a degree from Cambridge telling me how clever I was, or some megabucks career path that would land me with a Mercedes and a three-bed semi in suburbia by the time I was twenty-five.”
“So, what did you want?”
“I wanted the things in my heart,” she said. “Still do. Horses. Freedom. Life. Riding was everything to me when I was growing up. Still is.”
“A stable will complete you?” I was trying not to sound patronising. I didn’t want to patronise her.
She shook her head. “Not the stable. The joy.”
“The joy?”
She nodded. “It was the best part of my week when I was growing up, that one little hour of riding on a Saturday morning. Mum works in care, and has done since I was born. Crappy money, long hours. We did alright, but she couldn’t really afford the luxuries. An hour on a Saturday was all I got, and I was grateful. I loved it.” She shifted position and a grimace flashed across her face. “Yowch, ovaries. Anyway, I want to offer that same joy. Set myself up in a little yard, a couple of horses, offering decent lessons. Affordable lessons. Maybe a couple of loan arrangements for kids in exchange for them helping out about the yard.” She shot me a look of fire. “I’m not stupid, I mean, this will make money. Enough to live. I’m not some hopeless dreamer. It needs to make money to be sustainable. But just, enough.” She checked out my eyes and smiled. “Told you you’d think it was stupid.”
And I did. Partially. I thought it was a waste of a sharp, vibrant gifted girl who clearly had some brains in her skull. I thought she could be aiming for higher, bigger. A huge stable filled to the brim with horses — eventers, and racers, and show ponies, and a whole riding programme dedicated to the disadvantaged, if that’s what she wanted.
“Why so soon? Why not live a little first? Tread the corporate boards to get a bit of experience behind you. Travel. Make some sound investments to see you through any dips in the road? You said your mother works long hours for crappy money, is that what you want? What about life? What about all the experiences out there to be lived?”
“I am living,” she said. “The yard is where I feel alive.” She sighed. “It’s owned by a guy called Jack. A nice guy. The best guy. He’ll rent me the stables and the land, but he’s up against it. His wife left him, and his maintenance business is failing and the bank is after the clothes from his back.” She met my eyes. “It’s my shot. My dream. I just need a bit of cash to put it together. That’s why I’m here, with you. Partly.”
“Only partly?”
“Only partly, yeah. The other part is for me. Just because… you know.” There was a blush on her cheeks again. “A girl has needs.”
“Sacrifice a few years to pursue a career and maybe you could buy Jack’s land. Have a stable of your own, not one you rent from someone else. A couple of years away from the dream to set yourself up for life, for the long haul.”
She laughed. “I’m a graduate, big whoopy. Just some regular business graduate from Worcester. Who’s going to give me a few hundred grand for a couple of years’ work? I’ll come out with a scrappy bit of savings and a few years of wasted time. I’d rather have the time. The bottom rung of a ladder you want to climb is better than a couple of