The Beast of Bracksley Woods

by Doreen Hayward

  “Is that your car over there? That’s a beauty he said admiringly. Debbie nodded. “Okay, that’s fine. I think you have told us all we need to know at this stage. If we need to get in touch with you again, we have your address. You just drive carefully now because it looks as though the snow is settling in for the night,” he said cheerfully.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Debbie sat on a chair in A and E waiting for the nurse to come back with news of Mr Turner. She was grateful for the warmth of the place as she wrapped her hands firmly round the cup of tea she had got from the machine which was warming her inside. She gazed round at all the activities going on in the Department and hoped she wouldn’t have to wait long. She gave a deep sigh as she took in the familiar sights and smells of the hospital. Judging from the activity in the department, it was going to be a very busy night. Okay, she might have to wait a little while but her time was her own and after all, there was nobody sitting at home waiting for her. Her thoughts went back to Mike. She was never going to love anyone again like she had loved Mike. They had been so happy together in the early days of their marriage. Mike had been a tennis star and Debbie had been enormously proud of him. He was so handsome. He looked every bit an athlete as she watched him dart about the tennis court as he challenged his opponent. She cherished those memories. It broke her heart afresh every time she tried to forget all those hours she had spent at his bedside willing him to get well. Yet here she was again sitting waiting in a hospital. If only she could get rid of the awful emptiness within herself, she sighed. The thing to do was to keep as busy as she could and not give herself time to think. She had already been waiting over an hour and she was beginning to feel quite hungry so she breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted a nurse making her way towards her. “Mrs Turner?” the nurse asked.

  “Oh no! I am sorry, my name is Mrs Richards,” Debbie answered.

  “My mistake. Well, you will be glad to hear that the patient has regained consciousness. We will of course be keeping him in hospital for a little while because of his injuries. He has a broken leg and a broken arm, you see. By the way Mr Turner was carrying on, I thought you must be his wife. He has been asking to see you ever since he came round and we told him you had rescued him.”

  “I don’t even know the gentleman really. I only know him by sight. He lives in the same village near me,” Debbie explained. “I just happened to find him and I stopped by to make sure he was okay. I wondered if there was anything else I could do for him,” Debbie finished.

  “Well, as Mr Turner has regained consciousness now and seems pretty keen on meeting you. We thought it might put his mind at rest if you saw him for a minute before we take him up to theatre for surgery. His leg and arm will have to be set of course. Please come with me. I am afraid I can only allow you to stop for a few minutes because Mr Turner is still quite confused,” the nurse finished beginning to lead the way. Debbie followed wondering what the old gentleman could want.

  As soon as she entered the ward Debbie felt a lump in her throat as her gaze fell on Greg Turner’s white face.

  Suddenly, it wasn’t an old man lying there in the bed, it was the image of Mike As he lay unconscious before finally dying. She looked away quickly and swallowed hard so that he did not see the tears that threatened to overflow. The whole aspects of hospitals seemed to overwhelm Debbie. She should be given all her sympathy to the poor man lying on the bed, she admonished herself, not thinking of past experiences she could not change. Making a big effort and taking herself firmly in hand she faced Greg and said cheerfully, “Hello Mr Turner. My name is Debbie Richards and I live near you. I wondered if there is anything more I can do for you.”

  “Oh my dear young lady,” Greg said in little more than a whisper, the minute he saw her. “Thank you so much for your assistance. I am so grateful to you. It was that big dog that did it. It knocked me clean off my bike.” Debbie stepped closer to the bed in order to hear him properly. It was immediately obvious that speech was a tremendous effort to him. He was struggling for breath but he bravely went on anxious to tell her what it was that was worrying him. Debbie looked at his drawn white face and her heart went out to him. “I wondered if I could ask you to do me a tremendous favour. You have been so good to me I really don’t know who else I could ask. If you agree, you will be doing me a great service and I shall always be in your debt my dear.” He paused for a moment to catch his breath and then went on, “I have no family left me and my friend Kevin is away until next week. My poor little dog trigger is at home and needs to be looked after while I am unable to care for him. There are one or two cats about the place but they can look after themselves. No need to worry about them. If I gave you my key, do you think you could feed trigger and walk him for me.” He looked at Debbie with a look of sadness in his eyes before taking another breath and saying, “I am sure he would make a good companion for you if you are on your own and haven’t much to occupy you at the moment. Trigger would be much happier if he was with someone rather than being left alone in the house all day. You see, normally I would have asked my friend Kevin to look after him if he was available but of course, he is not. Kevin is the local RSPCA Inspector, you know. The nurse will find the key for you if you agree,” he murmured clearly tiring.

  Debbie could see that he was in a great deal of pain and finding speaking difficult. Without hesitating she assured him, “Of course I will. I had better take the little dog home with me.,” Debbie said impulsively, “The poor little mite won’t know what has happened to you but at least he will feel safe in a warm home with me for a day or two.”

  “Thank you so much. That is a great deal off my mind,” Greg murmured again. He was interrupted by the nurse who came into the cubicle saying that they were ready for Mr Turner upstairs now so she would have to be moving him. “Please give the lady my keys, nurse. She is going to look after my little dog. You will find the dog food in the kitchen my dear,” Greg told her quickly. The nurse turned to Debbie saying “Just wait there a few minutes and I will get the keys for you. I’m sure Mr Turner will be feeling so much better tomorrow when we get him sorted out. Perhaps you could call in again.”

  Agreeing gladly Debbie settled down to wait as Greg Turner was wheeled away. Ten minutes later the nurse was back with his keys. Thanking her Debbie left the hospital and went out to the car park.

  As she climbed into the driving seat and made herself comfortable Debbie reconsidered what she had just let herself in for. She had agreed to look after a dog she had never met for an unspecified length of time for a man she had never spoken to until tonight. This was one of those impulsive actions she always seemed to take. Sometimes they worked out but on several previous occasions she had bitterly regretted agreeing to certain actions. She reflected now that although she quite liked animals, she had never had much to do with any of them. At some time in her childhood there had been a family cat but Debbie could not remember what had happened to it. Now she had agreed to look after a dog and she had to admit that she had no idea how to go about this.

  However, she was not one to be deterred. As soon as she got home, she would have a quick look on her computer where there would be no end of tips. That ought to keep her going until she could find out more from Mr Turner as soon as he recovered enough to advise her. Starting up the car and putting the heater on Debbie drove out of the car park and made her way to Broadmead farm.

  Fortunately, she knew her way to the farm from the hospital. It was not far and despite the snow which was now falling in earnest, she managed to recognise the gates that gave way to the short drive leading to the house with very little trouble although the night was pitch dark. Leaving the car lights on Debbie found her way to the three steps leading up to the front door which was even now covered with snow. As soon as she managed to open the door and step inside, she heard whimpering coming from where she presumed was the kitchen. Groping for a light switch on the wall presented no trouble and the hall came to life as she thankfully shut the fro
nt door and made her way to where she could hear the sound of the dog who was now not only whimpering but scratching at the door frantically. The minute the door was opened, the dog shot out. It began bouncing about leaping into the air, jumping up at her and barking for joy. “Okay, CALM DOWN Trigger,” Debbie said in some alarm, “I’m sorry I’m not your master. He’ll be back with you in a few days,” she said, “In the meantime, you’ll have to put up with me. How about a little ride in my car?” she asked conversationally as she took a quick look round the kitchen for dog food and a collar and lead.

  How was she going to get a lead on the demented animal? She turned round nearly falling over the dog as he leapt once again at her. She need not have worried. As soon as Trigger spotted the lead, he grabbed the other end with his teeth and proceeded to tug. Debbie’s hand shot out and caught him. She managed to slip the collar over his head quite easily and congratulating herself on a good job so far, she attempted to rescue the lead from Trigger’s paws. Trigger evidently thought that this was enormous fun and started tugging harder. In desperation She happened to spot of bag of dog biscuits sitting on the worktop and as a temporary diversion she grab one and held it under Trigger’s nose. The effect was immediate. Trigger dropped the lead and Debbie was able to seize the opportunity and attach the right end to the collar. As soon as she had him anchored firmly, she shut the kitchen door but immediately she started towards the front door, trigger shot forward almost pulling her off her feet. She pulled him back and held on like grim death while she opened the front door. “Bloody hell,” she muttered softly to herself, “Slow down buster. That’s quite enough of that!” As the cold air hit them the sight of the snow momentary must have surprised the dog. He stopped dead on the doorstep and sniffed loudly. Grabbing the lead firmly in her hand Debbie Gingerly took a step forward mindful of slipping on the steps and afraid that Trigger might pull her once again. The dog followed cautiously as they negotiated their way carefully down the three steps that led from the front door. Just a couple of steps further and they would be at the car. With nose on the snow Trigger followed. Relieved, Debbie opened the back door and trigger scrambled onto the back seat. Oh well, the car needs a good clean out and I’ll do it when I get time, she mused grimly. Dirty paw marks on the back seat were the least of her worries at the moment, they’ll wide off easily enough.

  Later that night as Debbie sat in her comfortable sitting room with central heating warming the place and a warm meal inside her she watched Trigger as he explored his new surroundings. He had been fed and Debbie had found a makeshift bed for him. He seemed to be perfectly at ease while Debbie pondered the information her search on dog rearing had produced from the computer. Of course, she would have to visit Mr Turner again to confirm her findings and also to find out how long he was likely to stay in hospital. At least she thought, he had said that the RSPCA man would be back in about a week. She hoped this would be so because she still needed to look for work and should she be offered a position, she feared having to leave a young puppy alone all day. Clearly, she would have to make the acquaintance of Kevin as soon as possible. Until then, she would just have to do the best she could for her charge.

  Having searched the room thoroughly Trigger planted himself in front of the gas fire and stretching out to his full length prepared to sleep his supper off. Debbie studied her notes carefully. Comparing pictures of various breeds she came to the conclusion that Trigger must be a golden retriever. Her notes told her that this breed would need quite a lot of exercise. Well, that was out for the time being. Lengthy walks in the country would not be possible until the snow had cleared. For one thing, she wasn’t about to break her leg sliding on ice. Oh no! Trigger would have to wait for the dubious pleasure, of getting his paws wet because she wasn’t prepared to brave the elements just yet. Living in the country might be some people‘s idea of leading an idyllic lifestyle next to Mother Nature but country life took on a more challenging aspect in bad weather and Debbie was not quite sure she was up to it.

  Debbie woke the next morning to a snowbound landscape. The village looked like a picture on a Christmas card. Perhaps she would take a photograph of it and send it to Chris just to let her know she was enjoying country life. As she stood gazing through the window in her sitting room she decided it would be far too dangerous to allow Trigger out to exercise. By the looks of things walking would be nearly impossible and a visit to the hospital, as she had intended today would just have to wait. Instead, she would busy herself on chores and catching up with letter writing, something she had neglected since settling in Bracksley.

  In fact, it was three days before Debbie was able to get her car out to go into Bedford to do some much-needed shopping. The trip would also give her an opportunity to pop into the hospital to see how Greg Turner was getting on. Not wanting to leave Trigger on his own in case he chewed the place up, she installed him on a blanket on the back seat. The day before, Debbie busied herself making a few biscuits and a few small appetising cakes. All the way into Bedford Trigger showed intense interest in all the passing traffic and passers-by. Debbie smiled at the little grumbled growls coming from the back seat every time they passed a dog being walked by the owner. She jumped at Trigger’s furious barking as they passed workmen cleaning the roads from snow and ice. She congratulated herself on how well Trigger had settled down. Really, there was nothing to this dog training which she thought was going to be so difficult. Still, she had to admit that Greg had a head start on her for obedience. He had certainly taught Trigger well. He followed her everywhere in the cottage, asking to go out when necessary and never attempted to run off, neither had he attempted to chew anything, thank heaven Debbie thought. She had become quite fond of him in such a short time. She wondered why she had never thought about keeping a dog before now. It might have been difficult with having to travel so much with Mike, she considered. She was wiser not to have got involved with animals in those days, the trouble with always being on the move or alternatively finding someone to look after pets while you are away would have created far too many problems for her. Ah well! Things are much different now, she reflected.

  Locking Trigger in the car Debbie made her way to the ward. On entering she found Greg looking much better. He was so pleased with her little offering of cakes and biscuits and said he would share them with his fellow patients. Debbie had also picked him up a magazine or two although she had no idea of his taste. Never mind, Greg had been very grateful. He told her that he expected to remain in hospital for a few days more. He was having physiotherapy to help his leg although arm and leg would remain in plaster for about eight weeks. “I don’t really know how I am going to manage,” he said looking worried. I won’t be able to get around very well. I shall have to get extra help in.”

  “Do you know what kind of help you may be needing?” Debbie asked. “I would gladly help with minor things like shopping or making sure you get a hot meal at least once a day.”

  “That is more than generous of you since we only made acquaintance recently. I don’t want you to feel under any obligation to me. You saved my life and I shall be eternally grateful to you my dear. I feel I shall never be out of your debt until the day I leave this earth.”

  “Don’t be silly. I only did what anyone else would have done. I am so glad to hear how well you are getting on. Just let me know when you will be discharged and we will take it from there. I am not working at the moment so I am free to give you as much help as you need.”

  Greg’s hand came out to cover hers and he gave it a little squeeze in genuine gratitude.

  “How are you getting on with Trigger?” he asked after a small pause.

  “Trigger is fine. He is downstairs in the car park asleep on the back seat of the car,” She said sincerely hoping that he was.

  “Well, that’s one load off my mind. Kevin should be back soon and I am sure he will look after Trigger for me if you feel that you can’t look after him forever.”

  After assuring Greg
that she didn’t mind looking after his dog one bit. He was such a good little chap, Debbie got up to go.

  “Before you go my dear, May I lean on your generosity a little more and ask yet another favour. Could you collect one or two items from the farm for me? I took the liberty of writing them down with instructions where to find the various things. Perhaps you could bring them in tomorrow if you are not too busy with other things.”

  “Yes, of course I will.” Debbie took the list and said goodbye assuring him she would be back tomorrow.

  True to her word, Debbie went back to the farm the next day and following Greg’s instructions she picked up the items he had asked for. Later that day she took them into the hospital. She found Mr Turner looking much better and cheerfully enjoying a game of cards with a fellow patient this time. The minute he saw her he put the cards down and waved. He looked so pleased with himself that Debbie felt no shyness or embarrassment. She felt now that she knew Greg a little better she could ask a few questions where Trigger was concerned. “Excuse me for asking,” she ventured shyly, “But what breed is Trigger? How old is he? Oh, and by the way, I have left food and water out for your cats. There seem to be about three as far as I could tell. They are perfectly alright though,” she added in case the old gentleman was worried they were being neglected.”

  “Trigger is nine months old and he is a cross with a labrador and golden retriever. He may appear to be a little angel but he can be a little devil at times so be on your guard. The cats are farm cats, there to catch mice and anything else that shouldn’t be there,” Greg answered cheerfully. It won’t be long now before I am back at home so don’t you worry your pretty little head about anything,” he added.

  “Yes, I realise that but have you given much thought as to how you will manage when you do come home. If you like, I could make some enquiries for you and find someone to fix you up with meals and so on,” Debbie offered cautiously.” You have to be so careful with some old people in case they take offense, she told herself.