Page 48 of A Cosy Christmas with the Village Vet

‘I’m sure he wouldn’t be offended; might be glad of it.’

‘Mmm. True.’ She nodded, thoughtful.

An hour later, it had finally stopped snowing and the wheels of Nick’s four-wheel drive were making their way over the newly fallen snow on the lane to Broad View Cottage. Brogan sat with a basket on her lap. It was filled with soup, bread, and a few other provisions she’d rustled together. They’d agreed to leave Wilf and Maudie at Pond Farm; three high-spirited Labradors in Bert’s small cottage had the potential to be chaotic and very probably not what Bert needed.

Nick drove slowly, keeping in a low gear and being careful to avoid the banked up areas where the snow had drifted in deep swathes. Dusk was already creeping in, and all around them the broad expanse of moorland was swathed in a thick eiderdown of snow, lights twinkling cosily from the farmsteads that nestled in the dale.

‘Wow, it’s beautiful, but it really is a remote spot for an elderly man to live on his own,’ Nick said. Though he could appreciate its beauty, there was no getting away from the harsh bleakness of a moorland winter.

‘He’s never lived anywhere else; told me he was born there.’

‘And did you say he doesn’t drive?’

‘He’s waiting for a hip replacement. Hasn’t driven for years as far as I’m aware. My grandparents used to take him wherever he needed to go; I took their place when… when they passed away.’

Detecting the note of sadness in Brogan’s voice, Nick was keen to change the subject, hoping to stop her mood from slumping. ‘It’ll have been a wonderful place to grow up, with the moors as his playground.’

‘Oh, he’s got some fabulous stories about his adventures with his brothers and sisters, I love listening to them. Times seemed so much more innocent then, more carefree. I’ll have to make an extra effort to pop in to see him, hear some more of his childhood tales, they’re so wholesome,’ she said, her smile reappearing, much to Nick’s relief.

‘I wouldn’t mind joining you,’ said Nick, bringing the car to a halt.

‘I think Bert’d love that.’

The snow was deep along the path to the front door of Bert’s cottage, and the lack of new footprints suggested he hadn’t been out, and judging by the lack of paw prints, nor had Nell.

Brogan knocked on the door, pressing down on the latch to go straight inside. ‘Oh,’ she said when it didn’t yield. ‘Bert doesn’t usually lock his door. Mind, with that dodgy pair in the van lurking around, I’m pleased he has.’

She knocked again and called through the letter box, ‘Bert, it’s just me, Brogan, and I’ve got Nick, the vet, with me.’

A bark from Nell emanated from the depths of the cottage, followed by a bout of chesty coughing as Bert made his way down the hall to the door. Though Bert seemed pleased to see them, Nick found himself agreeing with Ella’s assessment that he didn’t look himself; his complexion had a grey pallor and his eyes seemed dull.

‘Now then, it’s grand to see their pair of you,’ said Bert in his broad moorland accent.

Nell nudged at their legs, her tail wagging, as they bent to fuss her. Nick ruffled her ears. ‘Hello, lass, it’s good to see you again.’

‘Sorry I kept you hanging about in the cold, but I can’t move as fast I’d like on account of my gammy hip.’ Bert shuffled back, letting them inside. As they passed, he took a large cloth handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his nose, stuffing it back in his pocket when he’d done.

‘No worries, Bert,’ said Nick as he and Brogan followed the elderly man into his small living room. Nick was pleased to see it was toasty and warm thanks to the open fire that was glowing in the hearth.

‘Sit yourselves down.’ Bert gestured to the sofa while Nell curled up in front of the fire.

‘You’ve got it cosy in here, Bert,’ said Nick, looking around the room. He couldn’t help but notice it would benefit from a bit of a tidy round, the flick of a duster, a quick vacuum. He made a mental note to ask Brogan if the elderly man had anyone going in to help him with housework. It couldn’t be easy for Bert to do it himself with his mobility issues. Not that he would say anything of the sort to Bert!

‘We’ve brought you some soup, Bert. You know what I’m like, I made too much as usual; I’ve got gallons of the stuff. Thought you might be able to help out and take some of it off my hands, rather than me having to eat it ’til it comes out of my ears!’ Brogan said with a giggle. ‘It’s the spicy tomato one you like, and there’s some other bits and bobs I’ve got too much of and need your help with, including that fruit cake you’re partial to.’

Bert gave a hearty chuckle. ‘By ’eck what are you like, lass? Actually, don’t answer that. I can tell you. You put me in mind of your grandma, God rest her soul. Elsie was always making too much stuff so I had to help out and take some off her hands. Not that I’m grumbling, mind, she made bloomin’ tasty grub, as you do. You’re just like her, young Brogan.’

‘Thanks, Bert. I’ve been using all her recipes so hopefully the standard hasn’t fallen too dramatically since I’ve been doing the cooking.’

‘To be honest, lass, it all tastes exactly the same as Elsie’s; you’ve inherited her culinary talents, make no mistake.’

‘That’s very kind of you to say.’

Nick stole a look at Brogan to see a happy smile spreading across her face. His affection for her was growing by the minute. Not everyone would have handled this situation as sensitively as she had. She’d managed to make sure Bert had something warm to eat without making it look like he was being offered charity, or made to feel she thought he couldn’t cope.

‘Have you got time for a cuppa, or do you need to head off? I know how busy you young folk are.’ Bert looked from one to the other, hope gleaming in his rheumy eyes. He retrieved his hanky from his pocket again, giving a noisy blow of his nose.

‘Bert, I’ve always got time for a cuppa with you,’ said Brogan. ‘Tell you what, why don’t I go and stick the kettle on while you have a catch up with Nick? I’ll get this lot put away, unless you fancy me warming you some soup now?’

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