CHAPTER 11
ON MONDAY MORNING, I got up an hour early to do my chores and get Samara ready to travel to the vet. Luke had promised to arrange transport for eleven, which I assumed meant a driver for Portia’s outrageously expensive horsebox. A horsebox that spent its time parked up behind the barn because, according to Susie, Portia had only used it twice in the last year.
At five past eleven, there was still no sign of a driver. I checked my watch again then compared it to the clock in the tack room. Yes, it was spot on.
“Have you got Luke’s number?” I asked Hayley.
“I wish.”
Should I call the vet? Hotwire the horsebox and drive it myself? No, Ash, forget that option. At ten past eleven, just when I was wondering what Bradley would do in a situation like this, Luke’s Porsche swung into
