Epilogue

Kate only ever had one more vision of Cat's life after that. It happened when she was walking along the riverbank towards the Folk Museum, on her way back from the Hall.

She sat down on a bench overlooking the gardens of the cottages, and smiled as she saw Theo, surrounded by a group of school children, demonstrating how to hammer a horseshoe into shape. Poppy, living with them full-time now, was sitting on a low wall, and Kate knew she would be babbling to anyone who listened that her Daddy was the man with the horses. He had his sleeves rolled up and the sheen of sweat on his forearms glistened in the sun, even from this distance. The re-built furnace was going and the firelight threw gold and red shadows onto him as he bent to his work. Hughie stood patiently by his side, adoring the extra attention he now received by giving carriage rides to people between the two sites.

It was so warm and relaxing, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes, meaning only to rest for a moment before she continued her walk. But the buzzing of a nearby bee turned into the rhythmic chomping of a horse eating hay, and the scent of wild garlic and woodlands turned into the smell of leather and burning coal . . .

* * *

She was in a garden. Not her cottage garden, but the flagged terrace of a little, walled garden, overlooking a stone building imprinted on a backdrop of mountains and green fields. She was lying on a reclining chair, her hands comfortably over her very rounded tummy, a parasol shading her from the unusually hot sunshine. A snuffle nearby reminded her that Hector himself was enjoying the day, lying guard beneath her chair.

‘Mama, Mama!' A sturdy little boy toddled over to her, holding a piece of twisted metal, in a semblance of a horseshoe-shape. ‘Papa says I may keep this and he will help me hammer a nail in, and we shall have it on our door.'

She laughed and took the horseshoe from him, shifting position awkwardly as the baby inside her squirmed in protest at being disturbed.

‘Darling William! You might need several nails and perhaps a little more practice for the future.'

‘That's not a problem,' replied Will, following the boy. ‘He has plenty to practice on.' He waved his hand across the vista of Welsh mountains, taking in the little row of pit ponies waiting their turn at the forge beside a splendid gelding and a prancing filly; and Kate saw in that gesture a man who had pride in his work and a love of what he did — but also a man who loved his family very much indeed. Will had set up his own forge, and it was testament to his skill and passion in his field that it was an extremely successful venture.

Will Haddon leaned over and kissed her, and Kate started awake, suddenly dropping back into her own world . . .

* * *

Cat had been happy then. Kate was inordinately pleased things had worked out for her.

She sat for another moment or two looking at her own beloved blacksmith working at his furnace and smiled. She hauled herself to her feet, her own baby squirming inside her, protesting just as Cat's had done. Hector the Second scrabbled to his feet as well, his tail wagging, his boxy head nudging her to get a move on.

Then she turned to face the sunshine and began to walk home.

THE END