The Pets at Primrose Cottage

by Sheila Norton

  I was too thrilled, too carried away by my idealised dream of a happy-ever-after, to stop and think that getting around US immigration rules wasn’t, perhaps, the most romantic reason ever for an engagement. That ring stayed on my finger for the whole six years we were in America. It was last seen flying across our bedroom on the day I walked out on him.

  Thinking about this had spoilt the good mood the sunshine had induced in me earlier. It was Easter weekend, everyone in town looked happy and spring-like but I suddenly felt down in the dumps. I was cross with myself for being tempted to respond to Rob’s flirtations. What was wrong with me? Why didn’t I have more self-respect? And I was miserable about my lovely Albert. I missed him, and I still didn’t know who Shane had sold him to. Suddenly, on an impulse, I decided who I needed to see to cheer me up.

  Before I could change my mind or decide it was the last thing I should be doing, I marched across the road to the Chronicle office next to the doctors’ surgery. I half expected to be disappointed. I didn’t even know whether Matt worked on Saturdays, but there he was, apparently the only person in the office, sitting at his desk looking as much in need of cheering up as me. It was gratifying to see his face light up with a smile when he looked up and saw me.

  ‘Emma! This is an unexpected pleasure.’ He got up and came over to greet me. ‘Is there something I can help you with?’

  ‘Well, um, yes, kind of.’ I looked back at him, feeling nervous now and beginning to regret my impulsiveness. Had I already forgotten that he was a journalist? ‘You mentioned about going for a drive on Dartmoor,’ I ploughed on regardless, despite my doubts. ‘I wondered … if you’re still up for it …?’

  He brightened even more. ‘Yes, I’d love to do that. It can’t be today, though, sadly – I’m working all day. Tell you what, though: why don’t we leave that till next week? I was thinking of going to the Spring Fayre. We could go together.’ He hesitated. ‘Er … sorry, only if you’d like to, of course. It’s on Monday.’

  But by now my initial enthusiasm for the idea of going out with him had started to wear off, being beaten back by my worries about his occupation. Being here in the newspaper office had heightened my anxiety and made me wonder what the hell I was doing, voluntarily exposing myself to the kind of situation I’d done my best to avoid for so long. Why had I come here? OK, so I was feeling sad and upset about Albert, I was cross with myself for not rejecting Vanya’s husband more firmly, perhaps I needed cheering up and was a bit lonely for male company, but surely there were other guys in Crickleford I could get to know if I made a bit of an effort, guys who weren’t likely to start harassing me for stories and digging into my past?

  He was looking at me, waiting for an answer. I saw the eager expression on his face slowly change to one of disappointment.

  ‘You don’t want to come to the Fayre?’ he said. ‘OK, no worries, I’ll give it a miss and take you for the Dartmoor drive instead—’

  ‘No!’ I said, a little too quickly. ‘I mean, I don’t want you to change your plans for me. But I’m already going to the Fayre, you see.’

  ‘With someone else?’ he said, looking even more disappointed.

  ‘Yes. I’ve promised to take my landlady’s little girl. Sorry.’

  He laughed. ‘Oh, that’s no problem. I like kids. Bring her along!’

  ‘Really?’ Now I’d used up my excuses and didn’t know where else to go. ‘Um … she’s only four.’

  ‘That’s fine, Emma. I know how to talk to four-year-olds. I was one myself once.’

  I laughed, despite myself, and he seemed to take that as agreement, suggesting where he’d meet us at the start of the Fayre. It would have been difficult to duck out of it by then and, besides, deep down I was looking forward to spending time with him. Surely he wouldn’t be able to worm any personal information out of me during one afternoon at the Fayre, with a child in tow?

  Easter Sunday was, of course, another cause of great excitement for young Holly. She was awake early, shouting about the Easter Bunny, and nothing would satisfy her until we’d been out in the garden with her to search for eggs to put in her little basket.

  ‘I had to get up at the crack of dawn to hide them,’ Jon complained to me in a whisper. ‘I can’t think why we don’t reinvent the Easter Bunny’s role and get him to leave the eggs in children’s bedrooms. Father Christmas and the Tooth Fairy seem to manage it.’

  Holly had soon found all the eggs, though, and when we went inside I gave her the chocolate bunny I’d bought her.

  ‘I didn’t get one for you, though,’ Holly said mournfully to me.

  ‘That’s all right. I’ve had enough of bunnies recently,’ I joked.

  When I told Lauren and Jon that I was going to the Fayre with Matt the next day, they looked worryingly excited about it.

  ‘It’s nothing like that,’ I said hastily, feeling myself going a bit red. ‘We’re just friends.’

  ‘OK.’ Lauren smiled at me. ‘But you won’t want Holly hanging around you, will you, while you’re with your friend. We can take her.’

  ‘No, honestly, it’s fine. I’ve told Matt I’m bringing her along. I’ve been looking forward to taking her. And it’ll give you both a break.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure. Thank you. She’s going to love being with you.’

  And it seemed she did. Once again her excitement was infectious as we set off the next day to meet Matt.

  ‘Is he your boyfriend?’ she asked with a little giggle.

  ‘No. Just a friend. But he’s very nice.’

  ‘I’ve got a boyfriend,’ she confided. ‘His name’s Luke.’

  She went on to give me a detailed description of Luke – where he lived, what his mother’s name was, what colour his hair and eyes were, and (bizarrely) what he liked to eat for breakfast. It crossed my mind that she knew more about Luke than I knew about some of the people who were supposed to be my closest friends (hangers-on) in New York.

  The Fayre was held in the Castle Fields. I’d expected it to be all about dodgems, helter-skelters and scary rides for teenagers, where they got turned upside down and flung around, but it wasn’t that kind of fair at all. There was one merry-go-round, where Matt and I spent a pleasant fifteen minutes watching Holly have four rides before we insisted on moving on, but apart from that it consisted of stalls selling home-made jam and chutney, knitted jumpers and baby clothes, and all manner of craft items.

  ‘It’s a country fayre,’ Matt said, laughing, when I described the kind of fair I’d been expecting. ‘People come from all over Devon to sell their wares. In the past there’d be livestock too. But look: there’s a coconut shy, if you want something more entertaining.’

  He led me and Holly over to the stall.

  ‘Who likes coconut?’ he asked as he paid for a go.

  ‘Mm. I love it,’ I said, laughing at Holly, as she pulled a face and said ‘Yuck’, before admitting she didn’t know what it was.

  ‘OK. One coconut coming up for the lady in the blue jumper,’ Matt said, taking aim. His first ball shot straight between two coconuts. He turned to Holly with a pretend frown. ‘Did you nudge me?’ he teased.

  ‘No!’ she protested. ‘Have another go! Get Emma a coky-nut, go on!’

  With greatly exaggerated concentration he took aim again and – much to his own surprise – smashed straight into a coconut on the front row.

  ‘Wow!’ he said, as the stallholder placed the coconut in my arms, Holly doing a little dance of excitement around me. ‘That’s the first time I’ve ever hit anything! Unless you count that tractor, of course, on the road to Newton Abbot that time,’ he added, half under his breath.

  ‘And you want me to come with you for a drive!’ I laughed.

  ‘It was the tractor driver’s fault. Wouldn’t let me pass him on that blind bend,’ he joked, winking at me. ‘I’m a good driver, me. Never knowingly overtaken.’

  We were laughing together as Holly tugged us towards the hoopla stall.


  ‘Can you win me that rabbit, Matt? Pleeeese?’ she begged him, pointing at a huge, lurid purple stuffed toy at the back of the table. ‘I love him!’

  ‘Well, in that case, Madam, I’ll have to see what I can do,’ he said, giving her a little bow. ‘Although I’m not sure whether my rabbit-hooping is quite as amazing as my coconut-bowling.’

  All three of us were holding our breath as Matt skimmed the first of his five hoops through the air. Plonk. It landed with just one edge over a box of chocolates.

  ‘Can I have half the box, then? The half the hoop went over?’ he asked the stallholder after she’d explained he had to cover it completely, and pretended to be disappointed when she shook her head.

  ‘Try again, Matt, try again!’ encouraged Holly, jumping up and down beside me.

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ I said, as his second hoop landed upright against a bottle of wine. ‘How are you supposed to get a little hoop like that to completely cover a huge stuffed rabbit?’ I turned to the stallholder. ‘It’s impossible!’

  ‘The rabbit’s just for display, not to aim for,’ she said, in a tone that suggested it should have been obvious. ‘To get those big prizes, you have to get three of your five hoops over the smaller ones.’

  ‘She might’ve told us that,’ Matt muttered, looking doubtfully at the three hoops left in his hands. ‘I bet nobody ever does it. Oh well, Holly, sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart.’

  He chucked the hoop carelessly at the display without aiming it.

  ‘Oh my God, Matt – you’ve won a packet of fruit drops!’ I laughed. ‘Do the next one without trying too!’

  He did – and the hoop landed neatly over a five-pound note. We looked at each other in surprise.

  ‘Should I try a bit harder with this last one, do you think?’ he whispered to me.

  ‘Nah. Just chuck it again. You seem to be better when you don’t try!’

  And when the hoop settled over a jar of marmalade, we both screamed with disbelief and hugged each other. It was quite a fierce hug, and I think we both realised what we were doing at the same moment. We pulled apart without looking at each other, a bit embarrassed.

  ‘Here are your prizes, then,’ said the woman, looking put out about it, as she handed Matt the sweets, the money and the marmalade. ‘Want to choose your big one?’

  ‘The purple rabbit, please,’ Matt said without hesitation.

  Holly’s face was a picture. She took the rabbit from him, managing a squeaky little thank you, almost speechless with pleasure. It was nearly as big as her.

  ‘That was amazing!’ I said, turning back to him. ‘You’ve made her day. Thank you so much!’

  ‘I don’t even know how I did it!’ he said. ‘It must’ve been that little prayer I said to the God of Purple Rabbits.’

  I giggled and put my arm through his. He was such a nice guy, so sweet and funny. Surely he wasn’t going to turn out to be like those other journalists.

  ‘Well, the prayer must have worked,’ I said, smiling up at him. ‘Look how happy you’ve made Holly.’

  We both turned to look at her. And she’d gone.

  ‘Holly? Oh my God!’ I gasped. ‘She was right here! Where is she?’

  ‘OK, don’t panic. She can’t have gone far.’ Matt spun around, peering through the crowds. ‘I think I can see her. Holly!’ he called, starting to run towards the next stall.

  Thank goodness, almost immediately he was back, leading Holly by the hand. She’d only been a few yards away, only been out of my sight for two minutes, but my heart was pounding like a sledgehammer and as I ran to grab hold of her I actually thought I was going to faint with relief.

  ‘I couldn’t see you!’ I told her, my voice trembling. ‘We thought we’d lost you.’

  ‘I saw Luke over there,’ she said, looking a bit frightened.

  ‘She was showing him her new rabbit,’ Matt explained.

  ‘Are you cross? Are you going to tell Mummy?’ Holly asked, anxiously.

  I sighed. ‘No. But please stay with us now, and hold my hand, OK?’ I turned to Matt. ‘Thank you.’

  He gave me another of his warm hugs. ‘She was fine – it’s just that you panicked when you couldn’t see her. But I’m glad I was here to help.’

  ‘Me too,’ I said. And I realised I meant it – and that I liked the hug. I hugged him back, and we exchanged a smile, and I knew with a sudden certainty that I wanted to see him again. Journalist or not.

  ‘Hello my lovelies!’ a familiar voice interrupted me as I was still smiling at Matt and holding his arm. Needless to say it was Annie from Ye Olde Tea Shoppe, with another woman who looked like she might be her sister. ‘’Er’s a priddy liddle maid. She your tacker, then?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘She’s asking if Holly’s your daughter,’ Matt interpreted for me.

  ‘Oh, no!’ I laughed. ‘Holly’s my landlady’s little girl.’

  ‘Tha’ be so?’ She looked surprised. ‘Chitter round ’ere is, you got a youngun yersel, name of Holly.’

  I laughed again, but this time the laughter was tinged with embarrassment. I’d murder that stupid young Josh if I ever saw him again. He must have spread around the story about Holly being mine. I couldn’t even remember why I’d said it, but I needed to kill it off right now.

  ‘No, that must be a misunderstanding,’ I said firmly. ‘She’s not mine. I don’t have a child.’

  ‘I see,’ Annie said, not looking convinced. ‘Well, I’d bedder be off now, beddern I.’ And off she went, muttering to her sister about me, no doubt.

  Matt was giving me a strange look. ‘Why on earth did Annie think Holly was yours?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. Someone must have got the wrong end of the stick. I wish people around here weren’t such gossips,’ I said, a little too abruptly.

  ‘Well, it’s a country town. That’s what people do,’ he replied in a similar tone.

  We let go of each other’s arms. And after the earlier feeling I’d had when he hugged me, it suddenly felt as if the sun had gone behind a cloud.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  My next booking with Sugar came around quickly, and I turned up at Vanya’s house bright and early.

  ‘Now, I must tell you, Emma,’ she said, as she pulled on her smart jacket ready to jet off to Edinburgh for another conference, ‘it’s especially important that Sugar is kept in tip-top condition this week. She’s entered into the South West Counties Cat Show next week, and a hell of a lot rests on her winning Best Cat in Show. I mean, her reputation, not the cash prize, although that is significant, of course. If she does well in this one, I’ll enter her into the national show again this year. So please keep a very close eye on her, won’t you. I’ll try my best to get home before the end of the week but it might be difficult. I’m relying on you, Emma. Don’t let me down.’

  She air-kissed me so as not to spoil her lipstick and, completely ignoring Rob as usual, flew out of the door and trotted off in her high heels to her waiting taxi. I sighed, remembering how it had felt to dress glamorously like that, before glancing down at my serviceable jeans and sweatshirt, and smoothing my newly coloured and shorn hair – a short cut, easy to maintain without regular and expensive trips to the hairdresser.

  ‘What’s up?’ Rob asked, leaning too close to me as always, his hot breath tickling my ear.

  I inched away. ‘Nothing. I’m fine. Right, where’s our little princess? Time for cuddles, Sugar!’ I crooned.

  Rob sighed with boredom and sloped off to his study. I couldn’t imagine him caring less whether Sugar won Best in Show or not. But Vanya had made it very clear it was important to her; she was my best client, and I was still a bit nervous of her. I was going to make damned sure I did everything I possibly could to ensure her furry baby’s success. And even more sure that I ignored Rob’s heavy breathing, his muscular arms, strong hands and expensive-smelling cologne. I was absolutely not interested – right?

  For most of that week, it worked well. He’d actua
lly started to ramp up his flirtation to the next level, which was freaking me out a bit, so I had no problem rebuffing him. I avoided being in the same room as him as much as possible. But when I arrived on the Friday morning, he was in his study, talking loudly on the phone, and when I called out to Sugar as usual, I was surprised and a little concerned that she didn’t respond with her normal loud vocalisation or come running to meet me.

  ‘Where are you, baby?’ I called out. ‘Playing hide and seek, are you?’

  I checked all around the house. Not asleep on any of the beds upstairs. Not hiding behind the sofa or playing games with me from behind the curtains. Had she somehow got herself locked in a cupboard? I heard Rob hang up the phone, and I charged into the study, breathless with anxiety.

  ‘Where’s Sugar?’

  He looked up at me lazily. ‘The cat?’

  ‘Well of course the cat. Who else here goes by the name of Sugar?’ I was feeling more and more worried. Had he done something to her? I honestly wouldn’t have put it past him. ‘I can’t find her, Rob. I’ve looked under all the beds and—’

  ‘Oh,’ he said, giving me a suggestive smile. ‘I’d have come to help if I’d known you were in my bedroom—’

  ‘Oh, shut up, for God’s sake!’ I snapped. ‘I’m worried about your wife’s cat, all right? Do you know where she is?’

  ‘In the garden, unless someone’s done me a favour and taken her,’ he said as if it were a joke. ‘Bloody thing wouldn’t stop yowling while I was trying to talk on the phone.’

  ‘You let her out?’ I squealed, already running to the back door.

  ‘All right, calm down, I put her in her run, obviously,’ he retorted, following me. ‘She’ll be fine, for God’s sake, what’s the matter with you?’

  ‘You know she’s not allowed out there unless somebody’s with her.’ I flung open the back door and rushed into the garden – and then stopped, gasping, my hand over my mouth. The door of Sugar’s run was open. And she wasn’t inside.

  The next half hour was one of the longest of my life. Rob finally had the decency to look pretty worried too, probably thinking about his wife’s reaction, just as I was.