Creature Comforts

by Trisha Ashley

  ‘Lulu rang earlier to say she’d be out all day, but she’d see you at the Hut a little before the meeting and catch up with you then.’

  ‘Right, and I’m sure she said Cam was off teaching a watercolour group today, so he may not be around either, but I think I’d just like a quiet afternoon anyway.’

  Debo came in then, with Vic and Ginger frolicking round her feet, and Judy dished up bowls of delicious thick mulligatawny soup, then broke the heel of the old loaf (not without some difficulty) and tossed it to the dogs under the table, before cutting into the new one.

  After lunch we toured the kennels so I could visit permanent residents and meet some of the latest arrivals.

  Most of them were the big breeds of dogs and over half were some kind of bull terrier, several permanently scarred from being used for fighting. Debo told me their sad histories, where she knew them, but really, you could read a lot of it in their eyes. The ones who timidly crept up and begged for love were the most heartbreaking.

  The more recent kennels and runs had been roughly knocked together for free by Tom Tamblyn, out of materials he’d found in skips, and I could see why the new owner of Sweetwell might not like his customers seeing them as they drove up to his garden antiques centre.

  Judy had been quite right about some of the inmates not being Desperate Dogs at all, but eminently rehomable, including the cute little white mongrel I’d seen when I’d arrived. I said as much to Debo and suggested that her friend Lucy, who was in charge of a large dog rescue centre in Cheshire, had a much better chance of quickly finding them a forever home.

  When I also added persuasively that then she would have a little more room for the really desperate cases, Sandy, who’d been following us round, supported me and said she’d draw up a list of all the ones that could be moved right away, like Babybelle.

  ‘Yes, she’s perfectly friendly, just too fat and lazy and costs us a fortune in dog food,’ Judy agreed.

  ‘Oh, but I think she’s already quite attached to Izzy,’ Debo protested. ‘Look at her little face pressed up against the wire!’

  ‘Big face,’ I amended. Babybelle had indeed plodded up to the front of the pen when she spotted us and was now staring intently, though I suspected that was probably from the hope of food, rather than from any new-found affection. I pushed a hand through the mesh and stroked her and her tail thumped heavily a couple of times.

  ‘I think she ought to be rehomed too,’ I said, hardening my heart, and Babybelle looked at me reproachfully.

  ‘We’ll see,’ Debo said. ‘Meanwhile I’ll have to have a look at Sandy’s list. What are you going to do now, darling?’

  ‘I think I’ll go down to the Lady Spring and take a little dip in the pool before any visitors turn up.’

  At that time of year the Lady Spring and the healing pool below it were only open to the public from two till four, and it wasn’t much after half-past one now. Often, Tom didn’t even see a visitor at all on weekdays in early spring, so he might be pottering about in his garden, or round his beehives. There’s a big brass bell visitors can ring by the turnstile if they do turn up and he’s not in his hut.

  ‘It’s a bit chilly for swimming,’ Judy objected, shivering at the thought.

  ‘I know, but the water’s always OK once I’m in – not warm, but not unbearably cold, either.’

  I went in to fetch my things and Babybelle set up a howling the minute I turned my back that continued until my return. Then she instantly stopped and instead barked at me imperatively.

  ‘She wants to go with you,’ Debo said, elegantly resting her arms on top of her yard brush and looking as if she was posing for a magazine picture, rather than cleaning an empty dog run. If anyone could make dungarees and wellies fashionable, it would be Debo.

  ‘No way,’ I said. ‘Tom won’t allow a dog into the enclosure, and anyway, she’d probably take a year to plod down there.’

  ‘Pity, because she does need the exercise and she’s definitely taken to you.’

  ‘But we don’t want her to get attached to me, because I’m sure she could find a good home with someone else,’ I said. ‘If she’s costing a fortune in dog food, the sooner, the better.’

  ‘Perhaps Tom might like her,’ Judy suggested. ‘He rang to say he might pop in sometime later today to see if any of the dogs took his fancy. He lost Duke recently, you know.’

  Tom and his father, Jonas, had now rehomed two of Debo’s Desperate Dogs and they’d both reached a good age. They always seemed to give them regal names, too.

  ‘If they took Babybelle, she could find herself a Princess or a Queenie,’ I said, with a grin.

  ‘I don’t think she’s his kind of dog,’ Debo said doubtfully. ‘Jonas, now he’s living with Lottie behind the shop, says he wouldn’t mind a little dog to keep him company, only we mostly get the big ones, as you know.’

  I did indeed: it was the bull terriers, Rottweilers, Alsatians, Dobermans and large mixed breeds of the canine world that generally got dumped first, and some of them had been treated so badly they never could be rehomed. Others, however, when Debo’s dog therapist friend, Chris, had worked his magic on them, were placed with new owners.

  ‘I’m off to fetch a greyhound in a minute,’ Debo said, looking at her watch. ‘Judy’s coming with me, for a change of scene.’

  ‘A greyhound? You haven’t had one of those before, have you?’

  ‘No, because there are specialist greyhound rescue places. But this is urgent – if I don’t fetch her by three this afternoon, she’s going to the vet’s to be put down. She’s retired from racing, but her new owners put her out in the back garden when the pet rabbit was loose, and you can imagine the result.’

  ‘Yes. Bit silly of them.’

  ‘It was the neighbour who suggested me and rang up. She said it was a nice dog, but they were going on like it was a blood-crazed monster and had locked it in the garden and left it there. But they’ve given permission for me to take it if I pick it up before they get back, and the neighbour will let me in.’

  ‘That might be one to send straight to your friend Lucy, to rehome,’ I suggested.

  ‘Maybe, but I’ve just had a thought: greyhounds don’t need a lot of exercise and they make good pets, so I might be able to persuade Jonas that he’d like her instead of a little dog.’

  ‘So long as he hasn’t taken to breeding rabbits. Or what about that little white mongrel, Snowy?’

  ‘Unfortunately he barks his head off whenever the TV’s on, so until we can break him of doing that, he’s going to be a bit difficult. Chris is thinking up a plan.’

  ‘Let’s hope it works,’ I said, then set off for the Spring, with Babybelle’s imperative barks turning into long, blood-curdling howls behind me.

  I slowed down once I was out of earshot – or perhaps Babybelle had just given up. I had so much on my mind that I really needed a little peaceful time to be alone and let the birdsong and the buzz of busy insects soothe me … but unfortunately, I didn’t get it, because Dan Clew, the Sweetwell gardener, stepped out of a side path right in front of me, blocking my way.

  He was a big, bullishly handsome man, in a heavy-jawed kind of way, with a high complexion and small, dark eyes. He seemed to hold a certain charm for some women, though now that he was getting on a bit, his black hair was liberally streaked with grey and his strong frame starting to run to fat, the latter probably due to the pies and pasties he consumed most evenings in the public bar of the Screaming Skull. He had a handful of cronies there, but he wasn’t popular, due to his bad temper.

  As usual, now that he fancied himself as gamekeeper-cum-estate manager, he had a shotgun under his arm, though even if Baz had allowed him to load and use it, there wasn’t anything to shoot in the overgrown woodland that circled Sweetwell Hall. I mean, the red squirrels weren’t vicious, and anyway, they were a protected species.

  Still, it wasn’t exactly helping to dispel the faint air of menace that always hung around him.
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  Dan eyed me in the way he did all women, as though examining dubious heifers at a cattle show.

  ‘You’re back visiting, then?’ he asked.

  ‘Hi, Dan,’ I said levelly, though my heart was still thumping from the suddenness of his unwelcome appearance. ‘I’m back indeed – but for good this time.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re staying here in Halfhidden? I wouldn’t have thought you’d want to do that. No one wants you here after what you did to Harry. You’re not welcome.’

  ‘So you say, but you seem to be the only person who thinks so, or who holds me to blame for letting Harry talk me into driving that night,’ I said evenly, standing my ground, for as Judy had pointed out, I’d had years of battles with obstinate village elders and petty officials while working abroad and I was no longer a traumatised young girl able to be scared off by bully-boy tactics.

  ‘Cara Ferris told me straight that you insisted on driving and wouldn’t even stop at the Lodge to let Harry take over. And my boy, who they’d made drunk, was out of it in the back seat.’

  ‘Well, you can’t blame that on me,’ I said. ‘Spiking his drink was another of Harry’s bright ideas. And I still don’t remember a thing about what happened, not even getting into the car, let alone driving, so she could say anything, couldn’t she?’

  ‘You’re calling her a liar?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’m saying that I know I would have been so terrified at the idea of driving the car on the main road, that I’m certain I wouldn’t have insisted. So yes, that has to be a lie, at least.’

  ‘Sez you!’ he sneered.

  I looked at him and suddenly decided to take the bull by the horns and get one interview I was dreading over with. ‘Actually, Dan, I want to ask you some questions about the night of the accident, and what you really saw.’

  ‘I saw you behind the wheel, that’s what I saw,’ he said. ‘And Harry next to you, with a dirty great branch sticking through him, dead as a doornail.’

  I felt slightly sick. ‘Judy said I mustn’t have been wearing a seat belt and was thrown forward, that’s why I had such bad head injuries. But you got me out of the car, didn’t you? Why did you do that?’

  ‘It was on its side in the ditch and there was an almighty smell of petrol,’ he said shortly. ‘Simon and Cara got themselves out of the back, but I thought the whole thing might go up any minute and better to move you than you be burned to a crisp.’

  ‘Well … that was kind of you, then,’ I said, disconcerted.

  ‘Tom turned up as I was getting you out; he’d have done it if I hadn’t.’ He shrugged.

  ‘Was there anything on the drive that might have made me swerve?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nothing. You probably just came too fast at the dip and then slammed the brakes on. You could have killed my boy, like you killed the boss’s son.’

  ‘Not on purpose,’ I reiterated, thinking that he himself had actually done all right out of the tragedy, because he’d lived an easy life since Baz moved abroad. And Simon seemed to have got on well too, working his way up the career ladder as a gardener with the National Trust.

  ‘How’s Simon doing?’ I asked on that thought.

  He gave me a darkly glowering, suspicious look. ‘I suppose they’ve already told you he’s head gardener over the other side of the hill, at Grimside, now,’ he said tersely. ‘In charge of that herbarium, or whatever fancy name they’ve called the walled herb garden.’

  ‘Herbivarium?’ I suggested, and he shrugged.

  ‘Old Cripchet charges people through the nose to see it, then sells them half-dead plants for stupid prices.’

  ‘Actually, I didn’t know Simon was there, but I’m glad he is, because I want to talk to him as well. In fact, I’m going to talk to everyone who was there on the night of the accident,’ I said. ‘I should have done it years ago.’

  Dan’s face darkened alarmingly and he took a hasty step forward, gripping the shotgun tightly, though more as if he’d like to beat me to death with it than shoot me. That was not a comfort.

  ‘You leave him alone – you’ll leave us all alone, if you know what’s good for you,’ he threatened. ‘And you’d better tell that aunt of yours to look for another place to take her mutts, because Rufus, the new owner, doesn’t want her on his land.’

  Then he turned on his heel and went off up the private path towards Sweetwell, slamming the small wicket gate behind him. I hoped Howling Hetty would get him.

  Angry and unsettled, I stared after him until he disappeared among the trees, before carrying on towards the Spring. Goodness knows, I needed soothing even more now than I did before! But on the plus side, at least I’d got the most dreaded interview over with and I now knew that Simon was working within easy reach. I could just walk through the gates like any other visitor to the herb garden and then look for him.

  Come to think of it, since Cara had married Sir Lionel Cripchet, I should be able to kill two birds with one stone … or I would, if Cara deigned to acknowledge my existence.

  I wasn’t holding my breath on that one.

  Chapter 6: Water Cure

  I hurried down the path as fast as the overgrown bushes and brambles along it would allow, for I now had an almost overwhelming urge to immerse myself in the strangely opaque greeny-blue waters – and not only in my usual ‘wash away my sins’ manner, but now, after the encounter with Dan, a ‘wash that man right out of my hair’ one, too.

  The clearing lay dreaming in the crisp April sunshine, the usual hint of magic tingeing the air. Tom’s small stone cottage looked as if it belonged in a fairy tale, tucked behind a white picket fence, with a neat row of beehives at one end and a dovecote at the other, where there was a slight flurry of wings as an occupant exited.

  The wild wood pigeons called and somewhere a blackbird whistled sweetly. Then a red squirrel bounded gracefully and airily across the grass, pausing briefly to turn its tufty ears and bright, inquisitive eyes in my direction. I thought there couldn’t be a spot that had more spirit of place – somewhere where the passing of centuries seemed tangible, soft and enfolding. You could feel a connection with the earth, or the life force – or even, if you’d been bashed around the head enough, an inner angelic voice telling you what to do.

  Mine was telling me to go and get into the pool.

  The stone wall surrounding it was silvered with circles of lichen and I had a plastic token for the old turnstile at the entrance, which had once graced Southport pier. It let me pass through with a well-oiled clanking noise, and once inside, everything was just as it had been on my last visit.

  When the Romans rediscovered the pool, they deepened and extended it into a rectangular bath big enough to swim two or three strokes each way in. They’d roofed it, too, and built other rooms off it, heated by an ingenious hypocaust system, but all the stones were taken to make Spring Cottage, and now the only evidence that there had once been a superstructure lay in the hummocky shapes under the short turf.

  I climbed up to the cave, took a pointed paper cup from a stack on a shelf inside and had a drink of the water, which tastes weird, though not unpleasant.

  Then I changed in one of the wooden sentry huts by the pool, before sliding into the water, which, because I’m so short, came to about shoulder height. I ducked under and it closed over me as softly and silkily as cold milk. Then I turned and floated starfish-wise on the surface and the spring sun fell golden on my closed eyelids.

  Debo once told me that the young Roman soldiers would have swum naked, and ever since then I had often thought I could hear echoes of them laughing and chatting … but then other times I’m convinced I can hear faint pagan chanting.

  That day I wasn’t aware of any past swimmers sharing the space with me, just the softness of the water on my skin, the sun warming my eyelids and the sweet warbling of birds in the trees.

  I always brought my worries and fears to the pool and now I felt them drain away, leaving a sense of peace and lightness behin
d in their place.

  I was prepared to let go of Kieran, too, though not without some regret for the love I’d once felt for him and the hopes I’d had for our future.

  He’d seemed such a kind, generous man, easy-going and popular with everyone … except, now I came to think of it, with Debo. She’d flown out to India for a visit just after we’d got engaged and immediately befriended one of the local stray dogs that attached itself to her. She’d decided to take it back home to Halfhidden with her, though of course, she couldn’t do that straight away, and I was left in charge of organising all the vet’s checks and inoculations and the rest of it, until I finally managed to get the dog onto a plane and off to her new life. (She was a sweet golden brown creature we called Rani, who was eventually adopted by the family who own the alpine plant nursery at the top of the village.)

  Kieran hadn’t understood why Debo should make such a fuss about a dog, when there were children suffering so much poverty and hardship. In fact, he made no secret of it that he thought Debo’s Desperate Dog Refuge was a stupid idea altogether and a total waste of money.

  ‘Why take in dogs that aren’t suitable for rehoming?’ he’d asked, puzzled. ‘I mean, they must bite, or have some other antisocial behaviour, so putting them down would really be the only sensible option.’

  So no, he and Debo were never going to see eye to eye. And though I could see his point about the children, animals deserve better treatment, too, and they were where Debo’s heart lay.

  Apart from that one glitch over Debo’s Dogs, everything about our relationship had seemed entirely serendipitous, from our first meeting right up to the moment he introduced me to his parents for the first time …

  I flipped over, took a deep breath and then swam underwater to the other end of the pool, where I let myself slowly float back to the surface, looking down into the opaque depths. I always think coming up is a bit like being born again. One minute it’s dark turquoise murk and the next – out you pop into bright light and a birdsong ‘Hallelujah’ chorus.

  But this time, just as I was about to turn over, there was the sudden shock of an almighty splash right next to me and next minute I was wrenched out of the water, taking an involuntary gulp of it in the process, then upended inelegantly over someone’s arm. A hard hand thumped me between the shoulder blades and I choked and spluttered, then began to struggle.