A shadowy figure quietly slunk along the stables and veered towards the gates of Follyfoot in the early hours of the morning. His few belongings jammed into the pack upon his back, Steve felt it would be easiest just to sneak away to avoid awkward questions. In the morning the “Mistress Of Follyfoot” (and the rest) would simply find him gone. Well, she had wanted him gone. She had said so. Then she’d appeared to change her mind. That spat over naivety vs realism, yet she had been proven right, at least this time, even if it was just dumb luck, and that hurt his pride. Next time she probably wouldn’t be so lucky. He had begged her to be able to stay and she had appeared to indicate a nod that she might. Nevertheless, the tension in the last few months between himself and Dora had grown to almost unbearable heights. He had thought about it again and decided perhaps it was better if he moved on after all. She had accused him of hate, but beneath it all he suspected she was lashing out, that the hurt of her unrequited love still lingered beneath it all; it was turning her sour and bitter at him and had been the root cause for the increasing anger. At once time they were friends but a line was crossed from which there could be no return. He could never feel the same way for her as she did for him and so her attitude could only get worse; perhaps it was for best he be gone from her life after all so she could forget him even though he had said he needed her. That and the increasingly obvious difference in approach to the farm - for her a charity case, for him to be run as a business which should at least to break even - helped him make the final decision in the end. And so Steve disappeared into the night.
The next day when Dora rose to the daily chores, she could not find Steve anywhere. She began to panic.
In the kitchen she lamented. “Oh Slugger, he’s not in his room and his things are gone. It’s all my fault!”
“There, there”, comforted Slugger, holding her. “Maybe he just took off for the day.”
“You don’t understand. We had an argument. I told him to go. But then…we sorted it out…or so I thought…”
Dora burst into tears.
“Blimey, what’s all the racket?” cried Ron, stumbling down the stairs in his nightgown. “Can’t a man sleep in on a work day every now and then?” Although Ron had his own home to go to, sometimes he stayed over for convenience’s sake.
“Only every now and then?’ quipped Slugger. “You’re sticking to that story are you!”
“Oh Ron, Steve is gone, along with his possessions, just vanished, no note, nothing.”
“That don’t sound like Steve”, said Ron. “Very strange.”
They went out and inspected the stables.
“All the horses are still here!” exclaimed Dora.
“So he’ll have left on foot,” said Slugger, “so maybe he hasn’t got far.”
Almost before Slugger had finished his sentence, Dora was preparing Copper.
She rode and rode, only guessing which way he may have gone, calling out his name over and over in anguish, often through tears. Deep down, she still loved him. She had told him to leave in anger, but now that had actually become a reality, she knew she couldn’t stand being apart from him for long, even if they could never be as intimate as she would have liked. After a couple of hours she realised it was pointless and so she slowly, sadly, began the return home. She despaired he had probably hitchhiked which explained how he could have got so far away in such little time and he could have gone in any direction. In any case, if he didn’t want to be found, he knew how not to be found so any further search was useless. And no one she passed by had seen him either.
“He’ll come back when he’s ready,” Slugger told her, back at the farm.
“Oh, maybe he’ll never come back!” wept Dora.
“Never mind about good ol’ Stevie, girl. ‘e knows how to take care of ‘imself. And you know, you’ll always have ol’ Ron. I ain’t going nowhere,” said Ron, hugging her.
“Ahem!” came a sound from the door. Hazel was standing in the light of the doorway. Dora could’ve sworn her eyes had briefly turned green.
“I’m not interrupting anything am I?”
“Steve’s scarped!” blurted out Ron.
“Has he now?” Hazel exclaimed. She glared at Dora. “Now I wonder whose fault that is!”
“There’s chores to be done!” Dora suddenly snapped. She had pulled herself together, deciding that work was the best therapy for now. “With Steve gone, we all have to muck in harder. Ron, I hope you’ve been showing Hazel the ropes.”
“Don’t you worry Dora my girl. I have taken her truly under my wing, showing ‘er me work ethics.” He winked at Hazel and she smiled.
Dora looked from one to the other a little bemused. “All right then, well let’s get on with it, shall we.”
“Blimey,” Slugger thought to himself, “if Ron is teaching ‘er ‘is work ethics, then she’s learning ‘ow to be another layabout.”
The colonel was rung and he used his contacts to find out where Steve might be.
Days passed without word and, with the absence of a major player, a new routine was beginning to be established. Hazel was learning fast and quickly becoming an asset in spite of Ron’s influence. In fact, if anything, it was the other way round. Hazel’s increasing enthusiasm to be a part of team inspired Ron to do more work himself than he had ever done before. Dora threw herself into things to keep her mind occupied.
