Page 68 of A Cosy Christmas with the Village Vet

‘Well, I’m sure he didn’t find them very comfortable when they sank into his backside either,’ said Nick. They both laughed hard at that.

Before long, the snow had stopped. Brogan glanced out of the window, surprised to see the dense clouds had parted to reveal a splash of bright blue sky.

‘Don’t suppose you fancy going for a walk, do you?’ she asked.

‘A walk?’

It was two Sundays before Christmas and the day her grandparents always set aside to get the Christmas tree. It was their tradition and Brogan had been a part of it as far back as she could remember. It had always been a joyous occasion, Brogan and her grandma singing along at the top of their voices to the Christmas CD they played when they decorated the tree. But last year, joy had been thin on the ground. Instead, Christmas Tree Sunday had been filled with heartbreak, with Brogan fighting back tears as she’d selected the tree, sobbing as she’d hung each bauble. The cottage had felt painfully empty despite music from the old Christmas CD filling the room, a cruel reminder that she’d never get to do this with her grandparents again.

Looking back, Brogan could she’d come a long way since that dark lonely day, and she knew it had more than a little something to do with a certain handsome vet and his adorable dog. She smiled inwardly, a new optimism filling her heart.

‘Yeah, but I don’t mean just any walk, I mean a Christmas tree fetching walk.’ She looked at him, her eyes bright. ‘At Pond Farm, today is known as Christmas Tree Sunday.’

‘Christmas Tree Sunday?’ Nick said. ‘Now I’m intrigued; the way you said that I thought for a second you meant we should head out onto the moors with an axe and chop a Christmas tree down.’

‘That’s exactly what I meant. Well, it’s not exactly what I meant; we’re going to head out on the moors and choptwodown. One for here and one for Bert’s place.’ She flashed him a wide grin.

‘Okay,’ he said, drawing out the word. ‘But aren’t there laws about just rocking up on the moors and helping yourself to whatever tree you fancy? I mean, isn’t the land owned by the Danskelfe Estate? I’m not so sure Lord Hammondely would be too chuffed about that.’

‘Well, yes, I believe there are laws about going out and chopping down random trees. But it’s very different if the land and the trees are yours – provided there isn’t a tree preservation order involved, of course.’

‘Right. I see. I think.’ He scratched his head.

Brogan laughed, then went on to explain how before she was born, her grandparents had planted a small area with Christmas trees. Every year, two Sundays before Christmas – which they named Christmas Tree Sunday – Brogan and her grandfather would head to where the conifers grew and select a couple of trees – one for them, and one for Bert. Her grandad would then chop them down and they’d drag them home on a couple of sledges where she’d decorate theirs with her grandma, then they’d head to Bert’s and do the same there. Each year, she’d help plant two new trees to take their place. The whole process had acquired an almost symbolic meaning as the years had passed.

‘So, how do you fancy giving me a hand?’ she asked brightly.

‘I’d love to.’ He grinned, his eyes twinkling. ‘I guess we’d best head out right away while we’ve still got plenty of light.’

‘Fab! I’ll just call Bert, tell him to expect us, that way it won’t come as a shock when we rock up with a conifer on his doorstep. I think with everything that’s been going on he’ll have clean forgotten what day it is; I know I had.’

Five minutes later they were heading out of the door. They grabbed the sledges – after the recent break in, Brogan was pleased to see they were still there – and dragged them down the snowy track en route to where the conifers grew, Maudie and Wilf in tow.

Nick reached for her hand as they walked along, the gesture making her heart skip a beat. She savoured how her hand felt encased in his, the feeling of closeness it imbued. Wilf and Maudie ran ahead, leaping about. Maudie watched, her tail wagging, as Wilf rolled about wildly in the snow, his gangly legs kicking about in utter abandon. In the next moment she’d joined him, which made Brogan and Nick hoot with laughter. Nick made snowballs, throwing them into the air, Wilf leaping to catch them, spluttering and sniffing as the snowballs fell apart in his mouth. That game over, the two dogs chased one another, tearing about in circles, their eyes wild with joy.

‘Maudie’s definitely a different girl since Wilf came into her life. I think she’s embraced his high spirits and run with them. She’s still got a hint of her haughtiness though, which I must admit I do finding entertaining, and I’ve noticed it’s poor old Wilf and me who seem to be on the receiving end of it.’

‘I don’t think Wilf cares; he’s besotted with her. Look at his face, you’d think he was grinning.’ Brogan smiled affectionately, watching the pair of them leap about. ‘And let’s hope she doesn’t pick up his horrible habit of rolling in fox poo.’

‘I think that would be a step too far for Miss Snooty Pants.’ Nick chuckled.

Arriving at the trees, Brogan felt suddenly overcome with emotion, memories of the times she’d been here with her grandfather flooding back. She blinked back a tear but a rogue one spilled onto her cheek and she tried to dash it away without Nick noticing, but it was too late. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. ‘It’ll hurt less and less every year,’ he said, kissing her forehead.

‘I know.’ She nodded, her voice choked.

Much as she would love to have stayed snuggled up in Nick’s arms, she dried her eyes, mustered up a smile and said, ‘Come on, let’s choose a tree for Bert.’

‘Sure you’re okay?’

‘I’m fine.’ She nodded, wiping a gloved hand under her nose. Nick pressed his lips against her forehead again, giving her one last squeeze.

With the trees selected and chopped, they dropped their tree and a very soggy Maudie and Wilf back at Pond Farm to dry out before heading to Bert’s. When they arrived, he was standing at the window, watching out for them. Brogan felt a little tug at her heart. How must he be feeling not knowing if he was going to see Nell again?

‘We’ve got a real cracker for you, here, Bert,’ Nick said cheerily as he and Brogan shook snow from the tree before bringing it into the house.

They followed Bert to the living room where the tree stand and the box of Christmas decorations he’d retrieved from the understairs cupboard were set on the floor.

Brogan got busy decorating the tree, while Nick made a pot of tea and chatted to Bert, telling him all about what had happened in the village that morning. Bert had listened, wide-eyed.

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