Page 7 of Coming Home to Wishington Bay
‘Yeah. We’ve got a friend coming. I hope that’s all right,’ Ned said, concentrating on the deliciousness in the pan in front of him on the stove.
‘A friend,’ I said, putting the fork back and wandering over to where my brother was adding a touch more seasoning to the food.
‘Try that,’ he said, handing me the spoon. I did. It was, as always, beyond yummy. I made noises to this effect and Ned smiled. Glancing at me, he caught something in my expression. ‘Oh! No! No, I promise this time, it’s most definitely not a set-up. I’m pretty sure you’re not his type anyway. His last girlfriend was an absolute stunner.’ My brother was, as always, the epitome of tact. I whacked the spoon on his forearm.
‘Oww! What was that for?’
‘I imagine it was because you just insinuated that your sister isn’t beautiful.’ Carrie came into the kitchen, smiling, and gave me a big hug, her posture a little awkward as the large bump that was my niece or nephew came between us. ‘Which she totally is,’ she finished.
Ned shrugged his shoulders and went back to stirring the food.
‘But he’s right on the other part. This isn’t a set-up. We had this planned before we knew you were coming down. It really is just four people having dinner. We kind of decided that maybe we weren’t so great at matchmaking after the last incident.’
‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ I asked, an innocent look on my face.
Carrie grinned. ‘Oh God, I know it was bad. But he seemed so normal and nice!’
‘He was. Sort of,’ I conceded. ‘He just was very, very … enthusiastic about his farm,’ I said, trying to find the right words. ‘More specifically the recipe for the manure that went into the muck spreader.’
Carrie and Ned’s last attempt to set me up had been with a local farmer they’d met through the restaurant when he became one of their new organic suppliers. He was, as Carrie said, very nice but he had also, apparently, spent a long time perfecting the perfect recipe for poop and then spent what felt like an even longer time telling me about it – over dinner.
Unfortunately, I did such a good job of being polite that he seemed to believe I was genuinely interested and insisted on driving me over to the farm to show me first hand. I really,reallydidn’t want to go but, apart from the manure obsession, he was a sweet man, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings or sour the working relationship between him and my brother’s restaurant. Ned and Carrie had looked at me helplessly as I’d searched for an excuse in my momentarily blank brain. None of us had come up with one.
It had taken me over a fortnight to get the smell out of my nostrils and had at the same time proved to everyone for future information that I most definitely wasn’t cut out to be a farmer’s wife. It was at least a week before I could even look at chocolate cake again but, as I wasn’t a quitter, I’d forced myself to beat that particular problem.
The experience, however, had at last apparently confirmed to my brother and sister-in-law that they weren’t natural matchmakers. So at least something good had come of it. Even though they still owed me for a once-beautiful and hideously expensive pair of shoes that didn’t survive the ordeal.
Carrie and I sat for a few minutes chatting, as we flicked through a fashion magazine and Carrie sighed at all the tiny waists.
‘Look at them!’ she cried.
‘Hon, they’re not home to a small human at the moment. You are.’
Carrie gave another sigh. ‘There is that. Good point.’ She stroked her bump and smiled. I couldn’t help smiling along with her. For all her griping about the models, Carrie was exactly where she wanted to be. She and Ned had been trying for a baby for a while before it had actually happened, and they were incredibly excited about this new addition to the family. As was I. I couldn’t wait to be an auntie, and already had a tonne of boxes and bags of stuff that I just hadn’t been able to resist when I’d mooched around in town or on holidays. It was all stored back at the flat for now. I’d drive back up and get it when the baby arrived later this summer.
Talking of new additions … I looked down at the small dog who had just wandered into the kitchen. His walk was a little wonky but his face was adorably cute in a mishmash of breeds way. From the looks of him, he was mostly sausage dog but clearly someone wanted to mix it up a bit and his legs were slightly overlong for the breed as was his tail.
‘You got a dog?’ I asked.
‘No, it’s our friend’s. He’s collecting him tonight. We doggysit for him sometimes so that Bryan isn’t on his own too long.’
‘Bryan.’
‘Yes, with a Y.’
‘Of course. Is he drunk?’
‘What?’
‘He’s kind of wobbly.’
‘Oh! No, he had a little operation today, so he’s still a bit dozy from the anaesthetic. It’ll wear off soon and he’ll be back to normal.’
‘He’s all right though?’ I said, bending down and stroking the dog who was now sat slightly haphazardly in front of me.
‘Yes, he’s fine. Just a bit tired. He’ll be right as rain tomorrow.’
Carrie had been head veterinary nurse at the local practice for years now. It had an excellent reputation and people travelled miles to bring their animals to the village practice, thanks to the expertise and care it offered. I knelt on the floor and tickled the dog’s chin and he wobbled up closer, put his front paws on my knee and looked up at me, expectantly. I took the bait and lifted him gently onto my lap where he curled up and promptly fell asleep. Ned looked over from where he was preparing dessert and laughed.
