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When Josie, Charlie’s ex, returned from her six month contract abroad, then it would be the right time for her and Charlie to spend more time together, be more involved, maybe, just maybe, settle down in that dream cottage together. But for now, making sure Maisie felt secure, was happy, was what really mattered.
She felt the small smile creep over her face as she thought about Charlie. They’d agreed at the start of the summer that they’d take things slowly, see how it went and it had gone – she knew her smile had grown – wonderfully.
But they didn’t know when Josie would be back, didn’t know what would happen when she returned – whether she’d settle locally with Maisie or not. And until they did, it was hard to see what the future held. What if Josie moved away? What if the only way Charlie could see his daughter was to move as well? What if she couldn’t find a new job close to where they went? What if, what if, there were just so many ‘ifs’, which Lucy wasn’t keen on at all. For a girl who liked to have a plan, be organised, the uncertainty was difficult. But she was learning, getting better at taking each day as it came.
So really, if she was going to be sensible about this, she had to decide what she really wanted. Now. And worry about the future later – after all if she bought a cottage now, she could always sell it.
She really had never thought the whole question of buying a house would raise its head for months though, years!
The estate agent’s crisp tone cut into her thoughts. ‘It would be in your interests to move quickly. It does, as I have mentioned, require a fair amount of modernisation, but opportunities like this don’t come up very often. A cottage for sale in Langtry Meadows is a rare occurrence, and I’d have normally already contacted interested parties, but Miss Harrington persuaded me to give you first option. I’d advise you not to dally about too long.’
Ah. So that explained the unexpected phone call from Bannister & Poole’s Estate Agency. She’d made an offhand comment to the elderly Elsie Harrington about needing to look for a permanent home, and as if by magic a solution had appeared.
‘I won’t, dally that is. I’d love to look round.’ It really was an opportunity she couldn’t pass on, she had to at least look. And ‘modernisation’ might mean that it had an outside toilet and a well – which would put it way beyond her humble budget.
‘I’ll email the details through, although they are currently just draft ones, they haven’t been approved.’ She could hear him shuffling papers in the background. ‘I can meet you there at 11 a.m. if that suits?’
‘Well, I.’ She would really have liked to share the news with Charlie first, see what he thought, but he’d be busy seeing clients. And she did want to stay in Langtry Meadows, whatever the future held for her and the man she’d fallen head over heels for. ‘Today? This morning?’
‘We do close at midday, it is Saturday you know.’
Which meant Charlie couldn’t go with her, but she could check it out first. It could be totally unsuitable anyway. ‘That suits perfectly, and er, thank you, Mr Ba—’ He cut her off mid-sentence, and Lucy slowly took the phone away from her ear and stared back out at the garden, knowing she had a stupid grin on her face.
Lucy glanced down at her pyjama bottoms, then up at the kitchen clock. This was not how she’d expected her last weekend of freedom to start. The new school term started on Wednesday, and they had an inset day on Tuesday, and she was officially the teacher of Classes 1 and 2. The last few days of the holiday were supposed to be about relaxing, chilling, preparing herself for the chaotic weeks ahead. She hadn’t factored in being woken up by a phone call from a bossy estate agent, and the kind of stomach churning, exciting news that had left her feeling all butterfly stomach-ey and jittery.
Her brain wasn’t exactly functioning either, which was how she always felt before the first strong coffee of the day. Lucy was not a morning person, she wasn’t really a night owl either. She was guaranteed to be the one that had to be in bed by midnight or she risked falling asleep on the shoulder of the nearest person and no doubt snoring and drooling in a very unattractive way. She was the one the rest of the students had drawn a moustache on when she was at college, as she slept through oblivious.
Her mobile gave a cheery bleep announcing an incoming message. Coffee. She needed coffee and a chance to wake up properly, then she’d shower and dress, and then she’d read the email that the efficient and officious Mr Bannister had already pinged off from his clean and tidy office, determined to disrupt the peace of her sleepy cottage in Langtry Meadows.
She’d only got as far as the bottom of the stairs, when a loud honk stopped her in her tracks. A warning honk, not the kind of gentle ‘go away’ noise that Gertie the goose often directed at unwelcome visitors. This had more urgency. And volume.
Rushing to the front door, Lucy threw it open, expecting some kind of carnage.
Gertie was having a fit. The type she normally reserved for straying men – as in they’d strayed on to her property and nothing to do with their morals. Well, to be more precise the goose was flapping her big white wings like some avenging angel and dipping her head backwards and forwards towards a mysterious object just inside the garden gate. Gertie didn’t like mysterious objects. She didn’t like most things, to be honest. And Lucy didn’t know if that was a ‘goose’ thing, or just a Gertie thing.
Lucy folded her arms, relieved that it was nothing more serious. ‘What have you got?’
Gertie glared back accusingly.
Lucy was used to parcels being left just inside the gate. Her regular postman knew all about how to deal with Gertie, but most strangers took one look at the bird as she hurtled round the corner of the cottage in response to the click of the gate catch, and scarpered. She couldn’t blame them.
‘Okay, I’m coming.’ She slipped her feet into the pink wellingtons that were in the porch. The wellies were her secret defence – with them on Gertie was putty (well not exactly putty, but no longer quite as lethal) in her hands. Gertie loved the boots; they were, as Annie had told her, the first thing she had seen and she thought they were her mother. She would happily follow them anywhere.
The parcel moved. Rocked. Gertie gave it a prod. It made a strange, wheezy noise and the goose drew herself up to her full height, gave a loud honk, then turned on her heel and marched off in search of something more interesting.
Frowning, Lucy lifted a corner flap cautiously. It sounded like there was something alive in there, and for all she knew it could be a box of snakes. Or worse. Rats.
Two eyes stared up at her out of the dark shadows of the box. One chocolate brown, the other the clearest blue she’d ever seen, spring water in a crystal clear stream.
Quiet trusting eyes.
She stooped down and opened the flaps of the box wider. It was a puppy, the blinking of its eyes the only movement as it gazed up at her. Over one eye was a patch of black, but most of its coat was the softest grey, splashed with black as though a careless artist had tired of finishing the painting, its paws and chest a damp, stained white with a smudge of tea-stains.
The puppy shivered and its chin sank down onto its paws as though it was exhausted.
‘Hang on.’ It didn’t respond. Not even the slightest wag of its fluffy tail, which sent a shiver of alarm through Lucy. Her instinctive response would have been to reach in and cuddle the poor animal, but something told her not to. It was poorly, very poorly.
She reluctantly closed the flaps of the box back down as gently as she could and ran back inside, grabbing her mobile phone as she dashed up the narrow stairs. She couldn’t ring Charlie to discuss something like a house for sale, but this was altogether different. ‘Charlie?’
‘Morning, gorgeous, you’re up early for a non-school day!’
‘I know you’re not open yet, but …’
‘Are you okay?’ His voice lost some of its cheery tone as he picked up the worry that tinged her words.
‘Somebody’s dumped a puppy in the garden. It’s in a box, but it looks really sick, it’s just lying there and shivering, and it’s …’
‘How sick?’ The cheeky edge had gone altogether now, replaced with professional concern in an instant, and she could imagine his frown, the narrowing of his eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair.
‘It looks like it’s been sick in the box, all its chest is damp and stained,’ she put the phone on speakerphone and dropped it on the bed, rifling through the drawer for clean underwear, ‘and it looks so thin and pathetic. I know I’m no expert, but it hardly even moved when I opened the box up, puppies just aren’t supposed to behave like that, are they?’
‘Bring it straight down, Luce.’
‘I’m just getting clothes on,’ she was breathless as she yanked her jeans up, fumbling with the zip with one hand, ‘I’ll be there in five minutes.’
Vet Charlie Davenport headed out of the surgery as soon as he spotted Lucy. He got the same familiar rush of pleasure he always did when he saw her. Along with the desire to take her in his arms and kiss her. Which would be very unprofessional.
He’d not expected to see her until the evening. It was the last weekend of the school summer holidays, and he knew that Lucy, organised as she was, would be busy with spreadsheets and lesson plans, getting ready for the new term of fresh-faced children, excited after a summer of freedom.
He felt the muscles in his shoulders tighten. This term that included his daughter Maisie, and he was dreading it.
He’d been over the moon when his ex, Josie, had finally let him see Maisie again. The daughter she’d told him might not be his, the daughter she’d refused to let him see for months.
When she’d asked him to look after Maisie while she worked abroad for a few months his whole world had seemed brighter and he’d been naively expecting it to be just like it had when they’d been a family.
Maisie had moved in with him at the start of the summer holidays, and it had been a big adventure. Now, with the new term approaching the reality had started to sink in. She was starting a new school, she wasn’t going back home to the friends she loved. She had a new uniform to pick up on Monday, and a bright new book bag that she didn’t like at all. It was the wrong colour. It had the wrong badge on it. Mummy hadn’t picked it.
They were both struggling, him with how to deal with the unexpected tantrums, and her with adjusting to a different life.
He sighed. After Maisie had begged, then told him it wasn’t fair, then stared at him with her big brown eyes brim-full with tears, and her lower lip trembling, he’d relented and allowed her to spend Friday night with a friend from her old school. He still wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing. He’d cocked up; he should have spent all summer ensuring she made friends with the children in Langtry Meadows. But it had seemed wrong to expect her to take the move in one massive step.
He was already proving pants at this single parenting lark. He was heading for disaster.
When Lucy had suggested they spend Saturday evening together, then take a picnic out on Sunday afternoon, fly the kite he’d bought, have some fun, he’d jumped at the suggestion as quickly as his daughter had. Maisie loved Lucy; he wasn’t convinced she held him in quite as high esteem.
‘It’s been sick again just in the time it’s taken me to walk down here.’ Lucy ran through the open doorway, out of breath, going straight through to the consulting room, where she put the box down and slowly undid the top. As though worried about what she’d find.
Charlie glanced in and frowned. This was worse than he’d expected. He reached for some gloves, then carefully lifted the tiny scrap out of the box. A gangly, skinny bundle of dirty fur that seemed to weigh nothing in his hands.
It shivered violently, the shakes travelling down its whole body. ‘Has,’ he paused, glancing up at Lucy who was pale, biting her lip, ‘she been in contact with any of your other animals?’
‘No, I’d only just found her when I rang, well Gertie found her. But she didn’t touch her, the box was still done up. I left her by the gate while I rang, she just looked so poorly …’
He nodded, relieved. ‘Good. You didn’t clean her up, then …’ He had to be sure.
‘No. Should I have done? I just panicked and …’ She stared at the gloves.
‘No, no. You did exactly the right thing, didn’t she little one?’ Charlie stroked one finger gently over the tiny puppy’s head, but it barely reacted.
‘What’s wrong with her, Charlie? Why are you wearing …?’
‘I’m sorry Lucy, the gloves are a precaution.’ He softened his tone. He didn’t want to upset her, but he had to be honest. ‘I can’t be sure, but there’s a chance this little mite has got parvo.’ He wanted to hug her. But he couldn’t.
‘Parvo?’
‘Parvovirus. It’s pretty lethal when it comes to young animals like this, and from a quick look at her she’s not very old at all. No idea where she came from?’
‘None.’ She shook her head, and her blonde ponytail swung from side to side. ‘The box was just dumped by the gate.’
‘Well she can’t be local, nobody here would do that. They must have driven in from outside the village.’ He frowned, angry at the callousness of some people. ‘How much effort would it have taken to have the animal treated, to have taken it into a local surgery?’ He knew the rough edge was back in his voice, but he couldn’t help it. ‘Instead of abandoning it to its fate. If you hadn’t been at home, it could have been dead within twenty-four hours.’
‘It’s that serious?’ Lucy leaned forward to look at the pup, her voice soft, and he knew she was finding it hard not to reach out, touch it, reassure the tiny scrap.
He nodded, tried to be brisk, business like. ‘It’s good that you got here quickly before morning surgery started.’ Charlie quite liked Saturday morning surgery, usually it ran at a nice steady pace. People bringing cats and dogs in for vaccinations, and consultations about neutering or teeth cleaning. At this time of year though there were often young animals and the last thing he wanted was the risk of a parvo outbreak in the village. ‘Look I need to get her on a drip.’
There was the tring of the bell as somebody opened the surgery door.
‘Sally?’
Sally, the practice receptionist and animal nurse appeared at the consulting room door, her normal ready smile spreading across her face as she saw Lucy.
‘We need to get this little one isolated.’
The smile faded. ‘Parvo?’ As she spoke she dropped her bag on the chair and reached over to grab a pair of gloves. Carefully she took the unprotesting puppy into her arms, and headed out of the consulting room into the back.
‘I’ll call you later, Lucy.’ She was still worrying at her lip, her eyes glistening, and he really did want to hug her. Instead he peeled off his gloves and then put his hands on her arms. ‘If you’ve handled her make sure you wash your hands properly won’t you?’ She nodded. ‘This virus is highly contagious and we really don’t want it to be passed on to any of Annie’s animals.’ He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose, and wished more than anything he could stop, reassure her, but he knew he had to do his job. Save the puppy.
‘Will she make it?’ The words were soft, and he wouldn’t have heard them if his forehead hadn’t been resting against hers.
‘I honestly don’t know if it’s parvo. Let’s hope it isn’t.’ He brushed his thumb over her cheek, then pulled back reluctantly. ‘God, what a horrible start to the day for you. Look, I’m sorry, I’m really going to have to go.’
‘I know.’ Lucy was staring after him, as he elbowed the door through to the back of the surgery open.
‘I’ll call you in a bit, okay?’ He shot an apologetic glance over his shoulder as he headed through.
She nodded.
‘Still on for tonight?’
‘Sure. Is Maisie any better?’
‘Fine, well she’s had a sleepover at a friend’s and I’ve got to go and pick her up after lunch. She’s getting a bit uptight about the new term, she wants to go back to her old school.’ He grimaced. There’d been tears at bedtime more than once, and he didn’t know if he’d done the right thing agreeing for her to go and visit a friend from her old school. ‘It’s just been like a holiday, having those couple of weeks at Langtry Meadows Primary at the end of last term, then the summer break. She wants to go back to her old life now, and I don’t know what to say.’ It bothered him. ‘Am I doing the right thing, Lucy? Have I got this wrong?’
‘You’re doing the only thing you can, Charlie.’ Her voice was soft, it was her turn to reassure him now, but he could see a trace of worry in her blue eyes. ‘She’s bound to miss her mum, and her old home, it will take time. It’s a big change for a little girl.’
‘I better …’
‘You had, go on, go! We’ll talk later, and we’ll make sure she has a great time tomorrow. I’ll make cakes!’
He opened his mouth in horror. ‘Oh no, not Lucy cakes.’
‘Sod off, I have mastered fairy cakes now,’ she paused melodramatically, ‘I have watched a whole series of Great British Bake Off back to back I’ll have you know.’
‘You’ll be in the WI next!’ He winked, thankful to her for lightening the atmosphere, even though he was more worried than he’d let on. Then turned back to the matter in hand. A very poorly puppy.
Chapter 2 (#u00bf11a6-4a10-5799-82d0-ce36c65c3a7e)
Jasmine Cottage lived up to its name. The sweet-scented white flowers spread a delicate flush of colour over the old red brick as the plant snaked its way round the old window frames, over the ramshackle porch and up towards the roof. In amongst the feathery leaves of the summer jasmine were thicker, woody stems that Lucy was pretty confident were winter jasmine. Six months ago she wouldn’t have had a clue, but after spending all her spare time trying to tame Annie’s garden she discovered she’d taken in more details from the gardening books she’d found in the tiny bookcase under the stairs than she’d have thought possible.
If she remembered correctly, winter jasmine had yellow flowers, which meant that once Christmas was over she could look forward to a flush of cheery bright colour.
Since she’d spoken to Mr Bannister on the phone, she’d been completely distracted by the puppy and hadn’t been able to give the cottage (or him) another thought. In fact, she’d not even remembered to mention it to Charlie. But now she was here every doubt about whether this was the right thing to do fled her mind.
Which could be bad news, given the state of the overgrown garden, and peeling porch and window frames.
It might be a good job she enjoyed a challenge she thought wryly, as she pushed the small gate, and it rocked alarmingly on its one hinge and squeaked in protest.
‘Morning, Lucy.’
Jumping at the cheery greeting, she spun round to see the tall, lanky figure of Simon Proofit.
‘Simon, am I glad to see you!’ Which could be taken as rude. ‘Not that, well, I was expecting Mr Bannister.’
Simon grinned as though her reaction wasn’t totally unexpected. ‘Alf couldn’t make it.’
‘Alf,’ Lucy felt the smile twitch at the corners of her mouth, ‘that’s his name?’ That made him seem much more human.
‘It is, he inherited more than just the business from his grandad. What do you think?’ Simon gestured at the cottage. ‘It’s the type of property we say,’ he put on his ‘estate-agent’ voice, ‘has got oodles of charm and character.’
Lucy laughed, the last trace of the jitters disappearing from her stomach at his disarming smile. ‘I bet you do. Along with dry rot and rising damp?’
He chuckled. ‘The plumbing has character as well. Want a look?’ He strode past her, and was opening the front door before Lucy had a chance to answer.
Lucy stepped from the stone flags to the warmth of the old oak floorboards and fell head-over-heels in love with Jasmine Cottage.
‘It’s beautiful.’ The words came out on a sigh.
‘It is.’ Simon’s tone had softened, lost its normal slightly bombastic strength, and he walked over and settled into one of the armchairs by the fireplace, sending up a plume of dust that danced in the sunlight. ‘It’s been empty since May had to go into the nursing home, and her family haven’t wanted to part with it. I think they’ve hung on because giving up on the place would be accepting she’ll never come back.’
