Page 23 of Rescuing Rosie
Wainwright did an about turn and easily managed the stile.
‘They should make the dog tunnels bigger,’ said Rosie.
‘It’s a smoot,’ said Ant. ‘For rabbits and badgers and other little animals.’
Rosie paused in her ascent of the stile. ‘A smoot? For the little critters?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did Beatrix Potter invent them?’
He smiled. ‘No. It’s an ancient word. Norse, or maybe middle English.’
‘I think I’d like to live somewhere with smoots.’
Soon they were back at the stepping stones. ‘Piece of cake,’ said Rosie. Wainwright went first, then Rosie hopped across, followed by Ant.
‘Which is your favourite lake?’ she asked as they walked up the gravel track to the hotel.
‘It’s impossible to pick just one.’ But after giving it some thought, he said, ‘Perhaps … Buttermere. Quite remote, fewer tourists than Windermere and Grasmere. Very pretty.’
‘But does it have gnomes?’ said Rosie. ‘Ashley at the hotel says Westwater–’
‘Wastwater–’
‘– has a secret underwater gnome garden.’
‘No gnomes in Buttermere that I’m aware of.’
‘What a shame.’
Ant gave her a look. ‘That was all very silly. Wastwater’s very cold and very,verydeep.’
‘No! It’s a great story,’ said Rosie. ‘I’m going to include it in my piece. Ashley said there was even a picket fence.’
Ant gave one of his sighs. ‘People died, Rosie.’
Jeez. ‘People die crossing the road, Ant.’
They reached the door to the bar, and on the step outside, Rosie began unlacing her boots. ‘I think we’re meant to take them off,’ she said, glancing up at Ant, who was looking out across the lake.
‘I’m not stopping,’ he said. A pang of disappointment took her by surprise. ‘But they allow boots in the bar here,’ he said, ‘as do all the best establishments. Just give them a wipe.’
‘Oh, why not stay for a drink?’ She pulled off the walking boots and took her Docs out of the carrier bag. ‘Come on,’ she pressed, putting them on. ‘Look how cosy it is in there.’ Through the doorway she could see a fire flickering in a stone hearth, and a dozen or so people at the bar and scattered around the room, sitting in deep armchairs.
‘No dogs,’ said Ant.
‘Pah,’ scoffed Rosie. ‘I’ll have a word with my close personal friend Ashley.’
Ant at last cracked another smile. ‘No, it’s fine. Wainwright gets overexcited around too many people, and I’d rather not leave him outside. Plus I have plans for later.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Best be off.’
‘Do you live in Grasmere?’ asked Rosie, wondering what people round here did for entertainment on a Saturday night.
‘Bit further out.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets and scuffed his boots on the step. ‘Well …I hope tomorrow goes okay,’ he said, looking at her sideways. ‘No doubt Dale will tellme all about it.’ He met her eye properly, and – dammit –she feltseen.
‘Keep the boots, by the way,’ he said. ‘Just mention Hill and Dale in your piece. Make the most of them – come up here again.’ He nodded at her, lifted a hand, and left.
Chapter Ten
