music and pretty girls to dance with, several hours slipped happily away.
When he could pause for breath he wondered how Selena was fixed? Had she eaten the supper Delia sent up, and was she hungry again?
He piled a plate high with steak and potatoes, tucked some cans of beer under his arm and headed for the house. But some instinct made him check the stables—just in case. As he’d half expected, Selena was there, leaning on the door of Elliot’s stall, just watching him contentedly.
‘How is he?’ Leo asked, looking in.
She jumped up. ‘He’s better. He’s calmed down a lot.’
She was better too, he could see that. Her cheeks had colour and her eyes were bright. He raised the plate to show her and she eyed the steak hungrily.
‘That for me?’
‘Well, it sure as hell isn’t for Elliot. Come on out.’
He found a solid bale of hay and they sat down together. He handed her a beer and she tipped her head back to take most of it in one go.
‘Oh, that was good!’ she sighed.
‘Well, there’s plenty more out there,’ he said, indicating the door with his head. ‘In fact there’s plenty of steaks too. Why not come out and join the party?’
‘Thanks, but I won’t.’
‘Still not feeling up to partying?’
‘No, I’m better. I slept well. It’s just—all those people, looking at me and thinking my voice isn’t right, and—everything isn’t right.’
‘Who says you’re not right?’
‘I do. This house—everything—it gives me the heebie-jeebies.’
‘You’ve never been in a house like that before?’
‘Oh, sure, plenty of times. Just not through the front door. I’ve worked in places like this, mopping floors, cleaning up in the kitchen, anything that was going. Mind you, I preferred a job in the stable.’
‘When was this? You talk like you were ancient, but you can’t be more than forty.’
‘More than—?’ She saw the wicked gleam in his eyes, and laughed. ‘I’d thump you if you weren’t sitting between me and the beer.’
‘That’s what I like,’ he said, handing her another can. ‘A woman with a sense of priorities. So, not forty then?’
‘I’m twenty-six.’
‘And when was all this ancient history?’
‘I’ve been looking after myself since I was fourteen.’
‘Shouldn’t you have been at school?’
Another shrug. ‘I suppose.’
‘What happened to your parents?’
After a few moment’s silence she said, ‘I was raised in a home, several actually.’
‘You mean you’re an orphan?’
‘Probably not. Nobody knew who my father was. Not sure even my mom knew that. All I really knew about her was that she was just a kid herself when she had me, couldn’t cope, put me in a home. I expect she meant to come back for me, but things got too much for her.’ Selena took another swig.
‘And what then?’ Leo asked, in the grip of an appalled fascination.
‘Foster homes.’
‘Homes? Plural?’
‘The first one was OK. That’s where I found out about horses. After that I knew whatever I did it had to be with horses. But the old man died and the stock got sold off and I was sent somewhere else. That was bad. The food was rotten and I was cheap labour, kept off from school because they were too mean to pay an extra hand. I told them where they could stick it and they sent me packing. Said I was “out of control”. Which was true. In a pig’s ear I was going to let them control me.’
‘But aren’t there laws to protect kids in this situation?’
She looked at him as if he was crazy.
‘Of course there are laws,’ she said patiently. ‘And inspectors to see that the laws are followed.’
‘So?’
‘So bad things happen anyway. Some of the inspectors are decent people, but they get swamped. There’s just too much to do. And some of them just see what they want to see because that way they finish work early.’
She spoke lightly, without bitterness, like someone describing life on another planet. Leo was aghast. His own existence in Italy, a country where family ties were still stronger than almost anywhere else, seemed like paradise in comparison.
‘What happened after that?’ he asked, in a daze.
She shrugged again and he realised how eloquent her shrugs were, each one seeming to contain a whole speech.
‘A new foster home, no different. I ran away, got caught and sent back to the institution, and after a while there was another foster home. That lasted three weeks.’
‘What then?’ he asked, for she’d fallen silent again.
‘This time I made sure they didn’t catch me. I was fourteen and could pass for sixteen. I don’t suppose they looked for me long. You know, this steak is really good.’
He accepted her change of subject without protest. Why should she want to discuss her life if it had been like that?
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