Page 13 of A Cosy Christmas with the Village Vet

‘Hiya.’

‘Now then, Brogan,’ said Camm, who was at the wheel. He had a woolly hat pulled down over his dark curls.

‘Hi, thanks for picking me up, I really appreciate it.’

‘Ey, it’s no problem. I was giving Ben and Kristy a lift into the village; it’s no hardship to scoop you up on the way, lass,’ he said with a smile as Ben climbed back in at the front.

‘Yeah, Ben’s going over to Tom and Adam’s to talk Belted Galloways.’ Kristy rolled her eyes, making Brogan giggle. Tom was Adam’s twin who lived with his partner, Adam, at Rowan Slack Farm just out of Lytell Stangdale.

‘Don’t knock it, Kris, rare breeds are the way ahead,’ said Ben good-naturedly. ‘And Belties produce fantastic beef.’

‘Aye, and diversification’s key,’ said Camm. ‘Those woodfired hot tubs we got installed at the campsite have been a big attraction.’

‘They so have,’ said Kristy, nodding.

‘Actually, while I remember,’ Brogan said, ‘keep your eyes peeled for two people in an unfamiliar dark-grey van loitering round the moors. I saw one at the end of my lane the other day and Bert Hoggarth mentioned seeing one near his cottage at Broad View. From his description it sounds like it’s the same one; has a big dent on the right-hand side rear door. Both driver and passenger seemed to be at pains to hide their faces, left me feeling there was something a bit shifty about them.’

‘Now you mention it, I saw a van fitting that description parked up on the end of the lane to Danskelfe Castle the other morning,’ said Camm. ‘I remember thinking the two blokes in it looked a bit suspicious.’

‘Great, this is all we need on the run-up to Christmas,’ said Kristy.

‘I’m going to mention it to PC Snaith, just in case. Bert says he wrote the registration number down.’ Brogan felt suddenly anxious at the thought of going back to an empty house. She quickly reminded herself she had Wilf who, though he was a big softy, could look pretty fierce when the need arose. She gave him a quick pat and he nuzzled into her.

‘Aye, and in the meantime, we’d best spread the word locally so we can all be vigilant,’ said Ben.

‘I’ll post a warning on the village social media pages. I’ll mention we could do with a photo of the van, then everyone’ll know what to look out for,’ said Kristy. ‘I mean, it might be innocent, but I think you get a feeling about these things.’

‘Too right,’ said Camm.

Before long, they’d pulled up outside the quaint thatched building of The Sunne Inne. Set in the centre of Lytell Stangdale, soft light spilled from its stout mullioned windows, and smoke curled up from its squat chimney. Kristy and Brogan jumped out of the Landie to a chorus of “goodbyes” and hurried over the road to the characterful fifteenth century pub. Local blacksmith Jimby Fairfax and his glamorous wife, Vi, were making their way along the trod, holding hands and heading in their direction.

‘Now then, ladies,’ said Jimby, giving one of his familiar broad smiles.

‘Hi there.’ Vi gave them a warm smile too. She looked as immaculate as ever in her emerald-green velvet coat, cinched in at the waist, and her contrasting plum-coloured leather boots. She always put Brogan in mind of a fifties movie star, with her cat flick eyeliner and impossibly glossy hair sculpted into aubergine waves. ‘We’ve got a pass out for the night. My parents offered to babysit Pippin for a few hours, so we jumped at the chance.’ Vi’s green eyes shone happily. Jimby had given their little daughter, Elspeth, the nickname “Pippin” owing to Vi’s craving for apples while she was carrying her and it had stuck.

‘Don’t blame you,’ said Kristy. ‘By the way, while I remember, be alert to a dark-grey van with a dent in the rear passenger door on the right.’ She went on to give the couple a brief rundown of their recent conversation. ‘So spread the word. Oh, and on a much happier matter, I hear you got the commission to make the wedding dress for that lifestyle vlogger from York.’

‘Who’s this?’ asked Brogan, only half listening. Her mind had started drifting off to the happenings of the previous night and her moment with Nick. The word “wedding” had made her heart lurch and her face flood with colour, fearing they’d touched on the subject of yesterday’s event.

‘Savannah Lesker from “At Home with Savannah”, she does those gorgeous lifestyle vlogs. We were watching one of them about how she designed her zen garden only the other week,’ said Kristy. ‘She’s a really popular influencer, Vi. You realise Romantique’s going to go crazy with orders once everyone’s seen her dress.’

‘It’s already started,’ said Vi. Vi was a partner in a thriving business, designing and making wedding dresses along with Jimby’s sister, Kitty, and the local GP’s wife, Livvie. Their small studio was located in the back garden of Vi’s parents’ house. ‘Kicked off pretty much as soon as she’d announced it on social media. We’re going to have to advertise for someone to join us, especially since Livvie’s on maternity leave with the twins.’

‘Aye, our Kitty said the phone’s been ringing non-stop and they’ve been bombarded with emails from brides-to-be making enquiries.’ Jimby smiled proudly as he pushed against the chunky oak door. ‘After you, ladies, but mind you’d best be quick or folks’ll complain about me letting a draft in.’ He held the door open and they stepped inside to join the jovial chatter and burble of the locals that mingled with the delicious aroma of landlady Bea Latimer’s wholesome home cooking.

‘What a gent you are, Jimby,’ said Vi, patting him affectionately on the backside as he smiled down at her. He responded with a wink.

Wilf tugged on his lead, his nose shooting up in the air as he sniffed appreciatively. ‘Steady on there, lad,’ said Brogan.

As usual, a huge fire was roaring in the vast inglenook fireplace, its woodsmoke lingering in the air, adding to the cosy vibe of the place. Already, the bar was busy. Brogan scanned the room to see Anoushka sitting at a table for three over by a window that was hung with thick tweed curtains in subtle shades of the moors, a sturdy radiator beneath it. Wearing a pale blue chunky-knit jumper that set off her long, blonde hair, Anoushka looked up from scrolling through her phone and waved at them, her face lighting up.

‘Enjoy your night, lasses,’ said Vi as she and Jimby headed over to the bar.

‘Aye, have fun,’ said Jimby.

‘Looks like Noushka’s got the drinks taken care of,’ said Kristy as they made their way over to their friend.

‘Hiya,’ said Noushka, flicking her hair over her shoulder and putting her phone down.

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