Page 12 of A Cosy Christmas with the Village Vet

Downstairs in reception, Brogan was a jittering ball of nerves, glancing around her as she settled her bill. She wouldn’t feel calm until she was in her car and on her way home.

* * *

The one thingthat hit her as her car bounced along the track to Pond Farm was that at least she and Nick hadn’t had a chance to exchange numbers. She hadn’t told him where she lived either, so he wouldn’t be able to just turn up, trying to seek her out. Relief washed over her at the thought. Rather bizarrely, it hadn’t cropped up in the conversation; probably because they were too busy talking about so many other things. She knew he was leaving for the Dales, but she didn’t know where he was leaving from, nor did she know what he did for a living. Thinking about it, all she really knew about him was that he was called Nick Heuston and he was single – well, at least he’d told her he was single. Her heart plummeted. What if he was just a player? What if he’d just used her and she was just another conquest? Nausea churned in her stomach. That thought was just too horrible to bear. She thought they’d had a connection, but had she just been fooling herself?

As her four-wheel drive nosed into the yard of the isolated smallholding, the realisation that she had more than likely been fooling herself hit her full on. She felt cheap and alone. The loneliness she’d felt since losing her grandparents suddenly engulfed her, reminding her how keenly she still felt their loss. What she’d give to talk to her grandma right now. She’d know the right things to make Brogan feel better; her words served up with a huge chunk of the latest cake she’d baked. Tears blurred her vision and she blinked quickly, wiping her hand under her nose with a sniff. ‘Get a grip, Brogan,’ she said to herself.

With a heavy sigh, she pushed open the porch door, silence rushing at her. The first thing Brogan decided she was going to do when it got to eight o’clock – which was the opening time for Ella Welford’s kennels – was jump back in her car and go and get Wilf. She defied anyone not to feel happy around him, even the thought of him made her smile. Then she was going to message Anoushka and Kristy, see if they fancied heading to the Sunne that night. Wilf, Anoushka and Kristy, the three individuals guaranteed to make her feel better. Well, as long as Wilf hadn’t been rolling in fox poo, that was.

12

NICK

Nick turned over in bed, the sheets rustling. His eyes opened slowly as sleep slipped away. He lay a moment in the soft light as memories of the previous evening filtered their way into his mind, a smile spreading across his face as he remembered. ‘Brogan,’ he said softly, turning to the pillow beside him, a wave of happiness filling his chest. In the next moment, his heart gave a leap. She’d gone!

Pushing himself up, he glanced around the room before snapping on the bedside lamp. He listened a moment, to see if there was any movement in the bathroom, but all he heard was the thudding of his heart and the muted sound of car tyres crunching over the gravel in the parking area outside.

He fell back onto his pillow, his bubble of happiness burst. He glanced at the clock; it was just after seven. When had she left? he wondered, rubbing his brow. He wasn’t such a deep sleeper that he wouldn’t have felt her get out of bed; she must have been deliberately quiet, not wanted him to hear her leave. He pushed his fingers into his fringe despondently. He’d been certain she’d felt the same connection that had driven him to act the way he had last night; been sure she’d felt the same frisson of being on the cusp of something special; something that came along only once in a lifetime – if you were lucky. He gave a mocking snort at his own foolishness.Special connection. Pah!He’d clearly been so desperate to hide the hurt Loretta had caused, he’d been kidding himself, allowed himself to get carried away on some crazy notion of finding the person he was so utterly convinced he was meant to be with; his soul mate. He slapped his hand down on the bed, cringing at how cheesy that sounded, hardly daring to believe that thought had actually run through his mind the previous evening – several times – that he’d actually believed that’s what had happened. ‘Another example of you being seriously uncool, mate,’ he said aloud, throwing the duvet back and climbing out of bed.

Making his way to the bathroom, picking his way around last night’s cast off clothing, something on the floor glinted, catching his eye. He stooped to pick it up, turning it over in his hand. It was one of the hair slides Brogan had been wearing. His pulse quickened. It must’ve fallen out of her hair when they’d been in the clutches of passion, tearing at each other’s clothes.

As he’d drifted off to sleep last night, with Brogan wrapped in his arms, thoughts had tumbled into his mind. How he’d suggest spending the following day together, maybe go for a walk in the countryside, enjoy a hearty pub lunch afterwards. She’d utterly captivated him and he’d been eager to get to know her better. But her unexpected disappearance had scuppered those plans.

With happiness deserting him, he threw his stuff into his overnight bag and shrugged on his coat. He couldn’t face breakfast; he just wanted to head straight home, continue with the final preparations for leaving for the Dales. Last night with Brogan had been a happy interlude, he told himself. He’d been an idiot to think it was anything more. The sooner he pushed her out of his mind, the better. There was no point mooning over something that might have been when he had a house move and a new job to contend with. But something told him Brogan wasn’t going to be so easy to forget.

He was loading his bag into the boot of his car when his phone pinged from his jacket pocket. He fished it out to see a text from Loretta, his frown deepening as he read it. If he thought his heart couldn’t sink any lower, her message proved him wrong.

Had an offer on the house. Cash

buyers, no chain, keen to move

quickly. It’s a bit below the

asking price but I’ve accepted it.

Means we can get this over and

done with. You need to get the

rest of your stuff out ASAP.

“Means we can get this over and done with.” Ouch! Talk about kicking a man when he was down. Nick re-read the text, a prickle of annoyance running over him. Why did Loretta think it was okay to accept the offer without discussing it with him? After all, they were joint owners of the house; decisions like this should be made jointly. And how much below the asking price was it? he wondered, thinking it slightly suspicious she hadn’t put the amount. He momentarily toyed with the idea of contacting the estate agent, telling him he refused to accept the offer, before quickly dismissing it. He scrunched up his face. The shouty phone calls that would ensue from Loretta didn’t bear thinking about. The sooner this was over and done with, the sooner she would be out of his life and he’d be free to move on. Weariness engulfed him. He’d had a gutful of negotiating with her, of treading on eggshells every time they spoke, wary of incurring her wrath if he said the wrong thing. At times it was as if she got a kick out of taking his words and distorting their meaning to make it sound as if he was being unreasonable. He couldn’t keep up with the mental gymnastics. He’d had enough of them. He just wanted this situation over with.

13

BROGAN

Bang on seven-thirty that evening, the horn of a Land Rover tooted in the yard of Pond Farm. Wilf jumped up from his place by the Aga while Brogan grabbed her bag, quickly followed by his lead. ‘Come on, lad,’ she said, her spirits lifting at the prospect of catching up with her friends.

Outside, the Land Rover belonging to Withrin Hill Farm was waiting, its engine rumbling, steam curling from its exhaust. Ben, Kristy’s boyfriend jumped out and headed round to the rear. ‘Ey up, Brogan, how’re you diddlin’?’ he asked, smiling as he pulled open the large rear door. Wilf didn’t wait a moment and jumped right in.

‘Hi, Ben, I’m good thanks. You?’

‘Aye, grand, thanks,’ he said.

Brogan followed Wilf, clambering into the back of the Land Rover and plonking herself down on the bench opposite Kristy.

‘Hiya, Broge.’ Kristy beamed a smile at her.

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