Page 18 of A Cosy Christmas with the Village Vet

She glanced across at the pub, which was looking achingly festive, with potted Christmas trees festooned with twinkling fairy lights positioned either side of the broad door, where a large festive wreath hung. ‘Come on then, lad.’ They made a quick dash over the road and into the pub, Brogan’s head bowed against the nipping wind that was rushing round her ears. Inside, the warmth was a welcome relief as it wrapped itself around her. Her eyes went straight to the bushy Christmas tree that glowed in the corner. It looked stunning, dressed in shades of purple and gold. Bea, a former interior designer, had a good eye for tasteful décor. Sitting at the bar were the familiar “early doors” locals engrossed in chat with Jonty and his daughter, Portia. Portia’s face lit up when she saw Brogan.

‘Hello, darling. How’s your day been? Tell all,’ she said in her plummy accent, brimming with her usual enthusiasm. She was looking as well-groomed as ever in a black silk shirt printed with silver-grey roses, and black faux leather jeans, her long blonde hair hanging in a glossy curtain down her back.

‘It was great, thanks.’ Brogan smiled, pulling off her gloves and stuffing them into her pockets before bending to unclip Wilf’s lead. He didn’t waste a moment, and trotted over by the fire to be with his canine pals. ‘It absolutely flew by.’ Brogan slipped her coat off and went to hang it in the little room just off the bar.

‘I’m so pleased it went well for you,’ said Jonty, peering over his glasses. ‘Though, I can’t deny, we’ll be sorry to lose you, my dear.’ His kind smile tugged at her heart and a lump appeared in her throat, taking her by surprise.

‘Oh, er—’

Everyone’s attention was taken as Jimby Fairfax bowled into the pub, his hearty laugh breaking through the low hum of conversation. Jimby was one of the village’s most exuberant characters, always upbeat and happy. In fact, Brogan couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him without a smile on his face. And she was enormously grateful he’d arrived when he did, saving her from having to tackle the tears that were threatening. His buoyant entrance had done a good job of chasing them away.

Jimby was followed by Ollie Cartwright, who was Anoushka’s dad and Jimby’s brother-in-law. Jimby and Ollie had been best friends since childhood and were regulars at the Sunne.

‘By ’eck, it’s brass monkey out there,’ said Jimby, rubbing his hands together briskly.

‘Aye, I reckon snow’s on its way,’ said Ollie.

‘Ey up, Brogan, how did your first day up at the veterinary’s go?’ asked Jimby, pulling his woollen hat off his short crop of dark curls.

‘Aye, our Noushka said you were starting there today,’ said Ollie.

‘It was brilliant, thanks; great to be back in scrubs. I loved it.’Apart from the shock of seeing a certain person.

By the time it had got to a quarter-past eight, she’d found herself answering similar questions many times over. It warmed her heart that people cared and were interested. She only hoped no one had detected any hint of the misgivings that were lurking at the back of her mind thanks to a certain tall, blond and handsome vet.

Considering it was a Monday evening in December, and not usually one of the busiest times for the Sunne, she was surprised at how busy it actually was. In fact, she suddenly realised, the place was as jam-packed as it if it were a Friday or Saturday night, which was why she and Portia hadn’t had much chance for a catch-up. Brogan always enjoyed hearing about the clients her friend worked for as an interior designer – Portia had taken over Wisteria House Interiors from her mother when Bea and Jonty had moved to the pub, but popped back regularly and enjoyed helping out behind the bar. One of her more recent projects had been to design the interiors of the new lodges at Danskelfe Castle. Portia had worked closely with Lady Carolyn Hammondely, daughter of Lord Danskelfe whose family seat it was, and the two had become firm friends. But there’d been no chance for any of that kind of chat so far this evening. Nor had Brogan had the opportunity to grab much of a word with Anoushka and Kristy who’d been here for a good half hour already.

She was halfway through pulling a pint for Camm who’d come with his partner, Molly, when she glanced up to see a familiar pair of blue eyes gazing at her. Her heart gave a jolt and butterflies started fluttering wildly in her stomach. Nick! What was he doing here?Please tell me he doesn’t want to have “the chat” right now.Her eyes flicked over to Anoushka and Kristy who, judging by their interested expressions, had clocked her surprise.

17

NICK

It was just gone seven o’clock by the time Nick got back to Arkleby. His spirits had slumped considerably when he pulled up outside Willow Cottage and glanced up at the foreboding building. It was in total darkness and looked as cold and unwelcoming as was possible. A far cry from the well-insulated, contemporary new-build with underfloor heating he’d shared with Loretta.

‘Home sweet home, Maudie,’ he said, and opened the car door, a biting wind rushing in and stinging his face.

Stepping into the hallway, he wondered how it was possible that the temperature felt lower than outside. The heating must have failed to kick in again. ‘Looks like we’re in for another chilly evening, Maudie.’ Nick sighed despondently as he flicked the hall light on, the naked bulb casting a harsh light around the out-dated, slightly shabby décor. Undeterred, Maudie trotted straight to the kitchen while Nick closed the door on the night and inched his way by the boxes. As he did so, Loretta’s phone call that morning hit him with a jolt, sending all thoughts of how cold his new home was scurrying away. ‘Oh, bugger! She’s going to be livid!’ he said out loud as he remembered she was expecting him to drop her shoes off. He wasn’t sure when he was supposed to find the time; today had been full-on busy. Not that it would wash with her. Should he head over now? he wondered, tapping his key fob against his chin. He glanced at his watch, considering his options. There was always the risk they’d both be there – Loretta and Aaron – all cosy and warm, lights from the Christmas tree twinkling away in the window of the house that had been his home until recently. His jaw tightened as he felt bile burn in his stomach. Going there at this time of night, even if Loretta had instructed him to simply leave the shoes on the doorstep, was the last thing he felt like doing. Plus, he had no idea which of the dozen or so boxes the bloody things were in. Hunting them out wasn’t going to be a quick job, never mind the mess it would make. No, he couldn’t face that tonight. He wasn’t being unreasonable; as far as he could see, the shoe situation was Loretta’s fault, not his. And besides, he’d never agreed to drop them off today; he’d beenorderedto “as soon as possible” by her, in no uncertain terms. And that was something else he’d noticed, she’d become quite adept at dishing out orders, rather than being willing to discuss anything with him. She’d call him, bark out a command, refuse to budge on anything, and shoot him down before he’d finished what he had to say. She’d been the one making all the decisions, with little regard to his feelings or opinions. Her acceptance of the offer on the house sprang to mind. She’d always been assertive and sassy, but she’d taken things to a whole new level now. He had to admit, doing what she wanted had been easier than the alternative of going down the blazing row route – confrontation was something he hated – but right now, it looked like these tactics had been making his situation worse.

Back to the matter in hand, he thought with a sigh. Right now, he felt tired and hungry and all he wanted to do was have a hot shower, shove a ready meal in the microwave and eat it while watching a bit of mindless telly with Maudie snuggling up beside him. He’d leave thinking about the repercussions of not getting Loretta’s shoes to her to tomorrow. His priority for this evening was to get the temperature of this cottage above freezing. One thing he knew for certain, the cold would be the least of his worries once Loretta got her hands on him. He gave a shiver, not sure if it was from the cold or from the thought of what she’d do to him.

Despite numerous attempts, the heating refused to work. Giving up on it, Nick went to turn the gas fire on in the living room, only to find it would appear the gas bottle had run out. ‘Bloody marvellous.’ He flopped onto the sofa dispiritedly, Maudie watching him with a suitably unimpressed expression. ‘Don’t say anything. I feel crap enough about myself as it is,’ he said, leaning his head back.

He vaguely remembered his landlords, Gary and Jackie Trotter, saying something about a man who supplied calor gas bottles. They’d left his number on a piece of paper. The only problem was, he didn’t know where the paper was, and even if he did, it wasn’t going to solve his problem at this hour. With a weary sigh, he pushed himself up and dragged himself upstairs to have a shower.

He was halfway through washing his hair, thinking that at least the shower had some force behind it rather than the trickle he was expecting, when his body was bombarded with icy jets of water. ‘Warghh!’ It felt like he was naked in a hailstorm. Gasping, and with bubbles streaming into his eyes, he fumbled to turn the shower off but it wouldn’t play ball.Like the rest of the bloody house!With goosebumps pinging up all over his skin at an alarming rate, he reached for a towel, realising he hadn’t unpacked the bath size ones, and only had a hand towel to dry himself. ‘No way!’ Could this day get any worse? Shivering, he stepped onto the cold lino, his hair dripping down his back, while he rubbed the small towel briskly over his body. He’d almost finished when the house was plunged into darkness. He froze, waiting for the lights to come back on, but he was disappointed. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’ His heart plummeted to his chilly feet.

Nick rubbed a circle in the steam of the window and peered out to see lights from other properties still shining brightly. It would appear that only Willow Cottage was under a veil of darkness; there evidently hadn’t been a power cut. Somehow that didn’t surprise him. He’d have to find a torch, only he didn’t have a clue which of the numerous boxes they were in. A thought pinged into his mind; he could use the torch on his phone. If only he knew where he’d left that. He threw his dressing gown on and picked his way carefully down the creaky flight of stairs in the pitch black. Shock spiked through him when he reached the bottom and his bare feet made contact with the freezing cold quarry tiles of the hallway. ‘Shit!’ The kitchen was at least partially illuminated by the bright moonlight that shone in through the window, for which Nick was thankful. He started the hunt for his phone, feeling round the surfaces, reaching into the shadowy nooks. He heard the flutter of paper as the pile of envelopes on the dresser floated to the floor. He’d pick them up tomorrow. He finally managed to locate his phone in the pocket of his waxed jacket, a wave of relief washing over him. ‘I know. You don’t have to say anything,’ he said to Maudie, who, just from her shadowy form, he could tell was giving him one of her ‘I’m seriously unimpressed’ looks.

Digging out some clean clothes, Nick dressed hurriedly, his fingers numb with the cold, his teeth chattering. There was a savage draught whistling through the gaps around the old Yorkshire sash window in the bedroom. He made a mental note to stuff it with paper in daylight hours. No doubt about it, it was going to be a bloody cold winter living here.

Back downstairs, he sought out the electricity consumer unit and flicked the trip switch back on. It tripped out immediately. ‘Bugger!’ Somehow, he’d guessed it would.

Nick’s shoulders sagged. He was cold right through to his bones, and he was hungry. As if on cue, his stomach gave an obliging rumble. Up until he’d returned to the house of doom – and discounting his phone call with Loretta – today had been good. His first day at Danskelfe Vets had gone better than he’d expected; he’d enjoyed himself and, more importantly, he’d found Brogan! How unbelievable was that? The thought of her brightened his dampened spirits. He’d been looking forward to mulling over their conversations in his thoughts that evening, as well as working out what he wanted to say to her when they got round tothatchat. He hadn’t been able to tell if she’d been pleased to see him. There had been moments when he’d caught a certain look in her eyes that maybe gave him a hint she was. And he’d definitely felt that connection sparking between them again – there was no getting away from that – but then again, he reminded himself, there was a reason she’d done a disappearing act on him at the hotel. He’d be foolish to build his hopes up.

His stomach grumbled again, this time much louder and making Maudie’s ears twitch, prodding him to have a think about his evening meal. The options at Willow Cottage weren’t great since there was no way of heating any food, never mind heating the house, and he was really craving something warm to eat. A steak pie popped into his mind, with lashings of rich, dark gravy and piles of mashed potato. Mmm. He salivated at the thought. Classic comfort food, of which he was particularly fond. What he’d give to have a plate of that right now. An idea slipped into his mind, growing on him by the second. He and Maudie could go to the pub, get a bite to eat – maybe even a steak pie if there was one on the menu – and a warm through. It would be better than turning blue with the cold here with nothing better to eat than a limp ham sandwich with his hair sopping wet. He gave another shiver. And, he’d heard the food at The Sunne Inne in Lytell Stangdale was particularly good.

Just then, his phone illuminated and pinged simultaneously, heralding the arrival of a text. Nick glanced at the screen, his heart sinking. Loretta. He wasn’t strong enough for her right now; he’d call her back tomorrow, sort out what to do about those blasted shoes, and maybe hunt out a couple of torches in the process. He’d call his landlords too, see what they had to say about the electrics.

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