Page 22 of A Recipe for Love
‘Must have walked a fair way to end up over there.’
‘Not really.’ She pointed back towards the castle. ‘I started down there.’
He let out a long low whistle. ‘Did you now?’
‘Yeah.’
‘So you’ll have met our Margaret?’
Margaret? A bell was trying to tinkle in her mind but not quite ringing yet.
‘They call her Flinty.’
‘Oh!’ Of course. ‘She made me a bacon sandwich.’
‘Sounds about right.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘You must be the English lass young Adam brought back with him.’
‘I guess so. I don’t think there’s another one.’
‘Well, look at you.’ He shook his head and cast a glance up the way Bella was walking. ‘Where are you trying to get to then?’
‘Just exploring.’ She thought for a second. ‘Flinty said there was a village, somewhere. I figured if I followed the road it must be this way.’
‘It’s a long road though.’ He pointed behind him. ‘Village is a little way down there.’
‘Why isn’t there a bridge?’
He laughed. ‘There is.’ He pointed back the way she’d come. ‘You take your life in your hands trying to cross it these days though.’
‘Right.’ She returned his smile. ‘Well it would make it easier to get back and forth, wouldn’t it?’
He shook his head. ‘Not something many of us bother to do these days. The road bridge is up that way. You just have to keep going long enough.’ A small white dog suddenly came bounding down the hill on the other side of the river and jumped excitedly against the stranger’s legs. ‘There you are. Well, if this one’s finished scaring the squirrels I’ll be getting back. If you make it as far as the village I might see you again, Miss…?’
‘Smith. Bella.’
‘Miss Bella.’ He nodded and turned away, and then stopped. ‘I’m Hugh. You’ll find me and my missus in the shop at the far end.’
‘I’m sure I’ll make it eventually.’
‘Right enough.’ He half-turned and called back. ‘Heard about the old laird. Tell all of them up there we’re very sorry.’
Bella continued her trudge up the lane. According to friendly Hugh with the tiny white dog, if she kept going far enough she’d be able to cross over and find her way back down the other side to the village. The thought of a village was the only thing keeping her going. She was picturing roses around doorways and cute little teashops and a warm welcoming village pub. She checked the time on her phone. Nearly two. She hadn’t had lunch. Maybe the pub would do food. A nice hearty steak and ale pie could be just the thing.
The path was steep and as she climbed higher the road was moist underfoot. The tread had worn off her trainers years ago and she walked more slowly for fear of slipping. It was getting cooler too. She zipped her hoodie closed and wrapped her arms around her body. It wasn’t dangerously cold. She wasn’t one of those ridiculous townies who’d set off into the mountains in high heels and a sun dress. She’d done enough festival camping with her nan to understand the adage that there was no such thing as the wrong weather, only the wrong clothes. She was comfortably warm enough to avoid medical emergency. She just wasn’t comfortably warm.
The road was an obstacle course of potholes and sheep shit but she kept going. Right until she didn’t. She stopped hard and sudden as her ankle turned into an unseen crack in the road. An expletive burst from her lips, and Dipper’s lead dropped free from her hand.
She stood stock still for a moment, right foot planted on the ground, left toes resting against her other leg, while the dog sniffed and explored the undergrowth around them. Bella forced herself to breathe. In and out until the initial shock of pain subsided and left her with the aching throb. Finally she lowered her foot to the ground. If it was only an awkward twist she could probably walk it off. She hopped her way around to facing back down the hill, abandoning her goal of making it to the promised bridge and the steak pie of her dreams today. ‘OK girl. Let’s go.’
She bent as best she could to grab the lead only to see Dipper bound away down the hill.
Adding ‘losing the family dog’ and a ‘possibly broken ankle’ to her list of first day mishaps was not great news. ‘Dipper!’ she yelled. ‘Dipper, come!’
The dog was a smaller and smaller dot in the distance. ‘Dipper, here!’
Nothing. Great. Bella forced herself to take a breath. Dipper had set off back the way they came rather than into the flock of sheep in the fields above them. That was good. She told herself the dog would find her way home, more out of pure hope than expectation. All Bella could do now was attempt the same.
She hobbled a few paces down the road, placing her left foot gingerly and awkwardly. On the fourth step the throbbing pain exploded into a sharp jab of agony. She stopped, balancing again on one foot. She wiggled her toes inside her shoe and tentatively moved her foot from left to right. Probably not a broken ankle, but that was little comfort right now. She’d been walking for the best part of an hour, which meant she was an hour from her bed in the coach house, and that was at a brisk walk rather than an ungainly hop. There was no way she could walk that far.
