Page 27 of A Cosy Christmas with the Village Vet

Brogan had grownup to be fiercely independent and was accustomed to fending for herself without giving it a second thought. Her dad, Steve, had walked out when she was a toddler. His contact while she was growing up had been sporadic until it had petered out to virtually nothing when Brogan was in her early teens, leaving them little opportunity to form any kind of relationship. Brogan had lost count of how many years it had been since she’d last seen him. As a consequence, her mum, Cathy, had become a hardworking, single parent who had striven to forge a career for herself, gaining promotion after promotion, working long hours so she could provide Brogan with the best of everything, which she had. A downside of this meant that, growing up, Brogan hadn’t seen much of her mum and had learnt how to be self-sufficient at an early age. Looking back she didn’t feel any bitterness about this or felt that she’d missed out. Her mum had always been loving and affectionate when they’d spent time together which, to Brogan’s way of thinking, more than made up for it. Rather, she felt the experience had made her stronger. She’d been letting herself in with a key, helping with the washing and ironing, and making her own tea when she got in from school since she was twelve years old – though she’d been made to promise not to tell her grandparents, who Cathy knew wouldn’t approve.

Brogan had been okay with this arrangement but it didn’t stop her from being thrilled when the holidays came round and she’d go to stay at Pond Farm, which she’d loved, especially the long six weeks over the summer when she’d stay the full stretch. In that time, when she wasn’t tearing about outside or jumping on bales of hay stacked in the barn, she’d learn to bake with her grandma and tackle DIY jobs under the watchful eye of her grandad – she’d become a whizz at doing repairs around the smallholding which had come in handy when she’d moved there full-time. They were the happiest of times. She’d forged a close relationship with her grandparents, particularly so her grandma. On the days Brogan was too ill to go to school, her grandparents would scoop her up and take her back to Pond Farm where her grandma would dote on her, making her restorative bowls of chicken soup and dole out some much needed TLC. They’d made her feel she was the centre of their world and utterly loved.

* * *

‘So,that’s me done for the day,’ said Nick, wandering out of his consulting room and into the reception area where Brogan was speaking to Vonnie about the training course she was booked in for the following month. At almost quarter to seven, they were the only ones left at the surgery.

Brogan glanced across at him, feeling a flutter in her stomach as they made eye contact.

‘Yep, we’re all done here too,’ said Vonnie. ‘It’s late, you get yourself home now, Brogan. And can I just say how pleased I am that you’re settling in so quickly.’

Thanks.’ Brogan beamed, hoping to calm her surging pulse. ‘Everyone’s been very welcoming and friendly.’

‘That’s what I like to hear. And hopefully that little car of yours will get fixed soon,’ said the practice manager. Brogan had told Vonnie how Nick had offered to give her a lift owing to her car breaking down, hoping to allay any gossip before it got legs and started racing around the practice.

‘I hope so too. See you in the morning, Vonnie, and thanks for booking those courses.’

‘No problem, flower.’ Vonnie smiled kindly at her as she headed towards her office.

With Wilf and Maudie scooped up, Brogan and Nick braved the weather outside. Frost glittered over everything in the outside lights. The wind had dropped a little but it was still bone-numbingly cold, with a clear, star-strewn sky up above.

As they were pulling out of the carpark Nick turned to Brogan and said, ‘Can I be a real pain in the bum? Would you mind if I called at Willow Cottage before I drop you off? I’ve got to pick something up then head over to Middleton-le-Moors, and it would save me doubling back on myself.’

‘Not at all. I’m grateful of you giving me a lift, I don’t expect you to double-back on my account.’ Brogan glanced across at him from the gap between her thick, woolly scarf and bobble hat as she snuggled down against the cold. She couldn’t help but wonder what made him need to go over to Middleton tonight. A girlfriend, maybe? She felt a prickle of jealousy at that thought, quickly batting it away as she reminded herself of her resolution to act as if nothing had happened between them.

They chatted away as they drove steadily along the twisting roads to Arkleby, Brogan savouring spending time with him. He really was good to be around. They laughed about Terence the ginger tom cat who’d escaped his owner’s clutches and taken off around Nick’s consulting room. He’d smugly perched himself on top of one of the cupboards, mewing pitifully while they tried to coax him down. In the end, Terence had leapt onto Nick’s shoulder where the vet acted speedily and managed to grab the cat and, with Brogan’s assistance, had manoeuvred him round so he could hold him steadily while his owner described why she’d brought Terence to the surgery. Nick had earned himself an array of angry scratches for his trouble. ‘I reckon old Terence had an inkling Mrs Ventress had come to talk about having him neutered,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘Come to think of it, I’d be tempted to put myself out of harm’s way if I was threatened with the procedure.’

It wasn’t long before they were pulling up outside Willow Cottage. Brogan peered out of the window at the small property. There was no doubting it had the potential to be quaint if it didn’t look quite so foreboding in the dark.

Nick pulled on the handbrake and stilled the engine. ‘I might be a while – I’ve got to find something; it’s, or should I say,theyare in one of the boxes I’ve yet to unpack.’ He paused a moment, chewing on his bottom lip. ‘Actually, it might be best if I take you home. I don’t know why I thought to come here first, it makes no sense. The house is in darkness, I forgot to pick up a torch; I’ve only got the light from the torch on my phone. It’s probably going to take me ages to find what I’m looking for.’ He scratched his head. ‘I’d suggest you come in, make yourself comfortable, but that’s the last thing the cottage is; it’s freezing and decidedly uncomfortable; I can’t expect to you wait in those conditions while I rifle through a load of boxes. No, I’ll take you home.’ He started the car up again.

‘I can help, if you like? There’s the torch on my phone and I’ve also got a little one on my house keys; it’s got a really strong beam. With two of us looking we’ll be able to find whatever it is twice as quickly.’ She didn’t like to see Nick look so sad and stressed.

She watched his face in the warm glow of the street light, his expression changing as he ran her suggestion over in his mind. He turned to her. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’

‘Not at all. Come on, let’s get cracking. You can tell me what it is you’re looking for. The sooner we get started, the better.’ She opened the car door and stepped out.

‘Okay. Though I suggest we leave Wilf and Maudie where they are, they’ll at least be warm in the car,’ he said as he headed towards the short, icy path to the cottage.

Nick put his keys in the door, giving them their usual jiggle about before the lock relented with a loud clunk. He went to push the door open but it didn’t budge. ‘Must’ve swelled with the damp,’ he said as he put his shoulder to it. On the third push, it finally opened. In the next moment, he released a loud gasp as icy cold water rushed over his feet. ‘What the—?’

‘Arghh!’ Brogan, who was standing right behind him, squealed as a mini river gushed down the step and onto the path, making her glad she was wearing her wellies. Nick appeared to be rooted to the spot, his hand clamped to his forehead. She peered around him and flicked her torch on, shining it into the hallway, her eyes alighting on a row of cardboard boxes standing in several inches of water. ‘Oh, dear.’ Whatever was in them would very probably be ruined.

‘I can’t believe it! Where the hell has all this water come from?’ Nick said, exasperated as it continued to rush by, the step creating a little waterfall.

‘I suspect it’s a burst pipe.’ Brogan shifted the beam of her torch to the ceiling to see an array of watermarks spreading across it.

‘You’re kidding me? Could anything else possibly go wrong with this bloody cottage?’ He huffed out a noisy sigh.

Brogan felt a pang of pity for him which sent her straight into coping mode. ‘Right then, we need to keep the door open, let the water run out; see, the level’s sinking already. The water supply needs turning off as quickly as possible. It’s a good thing the electricity isn’t working, or we might’ve been faced with bigger problems. I’m guessing the kitchen’s through at the back?’ she asked, sloshing through the water and inching by the sodden boxes in the hallway.

‘Oh, right, yeah, it’s through there.’ Nick was rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, his eyes fixed on the boxes. He started muttering something that Brogan could have sworn sounded like he was yet to face his biggest problem. She briefly wondered what that could mean as she reached the kitchen and her attention was taken by the sound of pouring water. She shone her torch in the direction of the sound to see an impressive water feature running down the wall by the oven. ‘Bloody hell!’ She needed to act quickly. ‘At the risk of asking a stupid question, you didn’t leave a bath running this morning, did you?’

‘No, there was no hot water and I’m not in the habit of starting my day with an icy dip.’

‘Good point. If you have a sweeping brush and know where it is, can you grab it and start swilling the water out onto the path?’

‘I can’t remember seeing a sweeping brush but I’ll go and check in the shed outside.’ Brogan heard him sploosh his way to the backdoor.

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