Page 69 of A Cosy Christmas with the Village Vet

‘Oh, I hope they find my Nell,’ he said.

‘They seemed pretty optimistic,’ said Nick. ‘I’m sure we’ll have some news soon.

With the tree finished, its lights twinkling prettily in the window, Brogan joined them on the sofa when there was a sharp rap at the door making the three of them start. Brogan almost spilled her tea.

‘Who the devil could that be?’ asked Bert, startled.

‘Would you like me to get it for you?’ asked Nick.

‘Aye, lad, if you wouldn’t mind.’ Bert glanced at him, concern in his rheumy eyes.

Moments later Nick returned wearing a huge smile. ‘There’s someone here to see you, Bert.’

‘There is?’ Bert asked, looking puzzled.

Brogan turned, wondering who it could be. She knew Bert didn’t get many visitors.

‘There is.’ Nick stepped aside allowing PC Snaith into the room. He was holding a fox red Labrador on a short lead.

‘Nell!’ Bert’s face lit up as the Labrador whimpered excitedly, pulling to get to him. The police officer unfastened the lead and before Bert had chance to get to his feet she rushed to him, wagging her tail so hard her whole body shook. She looked as ecstatic to see him as he was to see her.

‘Oh, Nell lass, it’s grand to see you. I’d thought I’d lost you.’

Brogan pressed her hand to her chest, emotion clogging her throat.

‘Where did you find her? asked Nick. He was wearing a huge smile.

PC Snaith explained how once they’d got the two criminals back to the station in Middleton-le-Moors, they’d questioned them. It turned out the duo were father and son who had a history of targeting villages, particularly around the festive period. Brogan had felt inexorably relieved when he went on to say they had no record of violence.

Apparently, though the father had remained schtum, replying “no comment” to the questions put to him, the son hadn’t taken much convincing to talk once he heard it might help reduce the prison sentence he would inevitably receive. He hadn’t shown a scrap of remorse and was more annoyed at being caught. But he’d sung like a canary, telling the officers where to find the dogs they’d stolen as well as the other items they’d pilfered. A subsequent search of their abandoned van revealed the bounty they’d helped themselves to that morning, which included a garden seat and two lawnmowers. The dogs had been found at a surprisingly well-to-do house on the outskirts of Middleton-le-Moors – the owners of which were being held for questioning – and had been well-cared for in their short time there. As was suspected, the dogs had been stolen to order and were being kept at the house until they were sold on.

‘I brought Nell back as soon as we got her.’ PC Snaith smiled kindly at Bert who was busy ruffling Nell’s ears.

‘That’s very good of you, lad,’ Bert said, grinning from ear-to-ear.

‘I can’t believe there are people out there who’d do such a thing,’ said Brogan.

‘Oh, you’d be surprised what some folk are prepared to do,’ the officer said gravely.

* * *

Back home,Nick had helped Brogan decorate the tree for Pond Farm. She’d lifted the decorations out one-by-one, each one holding its own special memories. They were a mishmash of styles and colours, and some of the older ones were incredibly fragile, their paint tarnished in places. Others Brogan had made at school, which her grandma had told her were her favourites, said they were precious, though Brogan could never understand why.

‘Oh, no! Look at this horror!’ She lifted out the angel she’d made from a wooden spoon, handing it to Nick. It had definitely seen better days, with its straggly hair made of uneven strands of yellow wool and tattered gown fashioned from white crepe paper, its wings crumpled paper doilies. It had once been liberally daubed with glitter and plastered with gaudy sequins, little of which remained. Seeing it again brought a smile to her face.

Nick turned it over in his hand. ‘I wouldn’t call it a horror, but it’s definitely the first angel I’ve seen with a comb-over, so full marks for inventiveness.’

‘It’s like that because the glue’s gone from one side of its head.’ A giggle bubbled out of Brogan’s mouth as she took it back. ‘And horrific as it is, my grandma always insisted on giving it pride of place at the top of the tree.’

‘Which I hope you will too.’

‘Hmm. While I accept it’s the sort of thing a grandparent can get away with, I think it’s time this one was retired; she’s done her bit. It’s time for something else to take its place.’ She lifted out a tissue-wrapped object to reveal the angel her grandparents had used before she’d presented them with the “comb-over angel”. It had large antique-gold wings and a champagne coloured gown that shimmered in the light. ‘I think it’s time this one went back there; she fits the bill far better. Can you do the honours?’ She handed the angel to Nick.

‘You sure about this?’ he asked.

‘Positive.’

He set the angel on the top branch, adjusting it until it was straight.

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