by Lucy Daniels
Graham was disappearing into a passageway at the far side of the cobbles. Hurrying after him, Mandy followed him into a shed close to the milking parlour where her patient was being kept. She had carried out an operation to move the abomasum, the fourth chamber of the cow’s stomach. It had become displaced to the left side of the cow’s abdomen. Mandy had shifted it back to its normal position and sutured it in place. The cow had been unable to eat and would have died without surgery.
It was the first time Mandy had performed the op. Now, she was pleased to see the animal tucking into hay as if nothing had happened. The cow turned her head to gaze at them, a few wisps of hay hanging from her mouth.
‘She started eating straight away,’ Graham told Mandy. ‘It’s like a miracle.’ Mandy could see that the cow’s flanks had filled out and her eyes were bright and curious. The wound on her right side was, as Graham had said, impressively healed. ‘Would you mind holding her tail while I take the stitches out, or would you like to do it?’ he asked.
‘I would quite like to do it,’ Mandy said.
‘Be my guest!’ Graham smiled before handing over the small curved blade that would be used to remove the stitches. With a well-practised hand, he took hold of the cow’s tail and leaned on her hind end until she swung round against the wall. Absent-mindedly, he scratched the placid animal’s rump as Mandy approached. The wound site was smooth and clean, to her relief. The hair around the scar was already beginning to regrow. In a few months, there would be only a thin line to mark the operation. With a steady hand, Mandy clipped the thick suture material at the top and bottom of the wound, then unpicked the interlocking stitches in between.
‘We’ve made some adjustments to the feeding routine after calving for the rest of the herd, as you suggested,’ Graham told her. ‘We’ve increased the fibre intake and we’re supplementing with calcium and phosphorus. We don’t want another one getting ill.’
‘That’s great.’ Mandy stood back from the cow as Graham moved up towards the animal’s head, loosening the halter from behind her ears, then dropping it free over her nose. Slipping the rope over his shoulder, he followed Mandy out of the pen and swung the gate shut. For a moment they stood side by side, watching as the cow pulled another mouthful of hay from the rack.
‘We should go,’ Mandy said. She could have stood there all day, breathing in the sweet scent of hay and clean bovine, but there was a lot to do back at Hope Meadows. Untying Sky’s lead from a ring on the wall of the byre, she leaned down and stroked the collie’s soft domed head. She would buy some of the delicious chestnuts she had smelled earlier on her way through the yard, she thought. They would warm her up as she walked back to the car. Pulling open the door, she stepped back outside into the chilly November wind.
Chapter Two
Mandy stood behind the glass wall of the rescue centre and stared out. The trees in the orchard were bare in the late afternoon light and the fellside had faded to its muted winter hue. The beauty of the landscape, the serene grasslands and endlessly climbing dry-stone walls lifted Mandy’s heart. Hope Meadows, and its furry occupants, still felt like a wonderful dream to her. From the earliest days of helping animals with James, she had known she wanted to spend her life working with and for them.
Closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, she could still detect the fresh scent of sawdust clinging to the wooden beams. With the help of an architect, Mandy’s father Adam had come up with the design for the centre. The reception area was dominated by a soaring glass window which flooded the building with natural light, even on the greyest days.
Despite the hard work Mandy had to put in at all hours, there was nowhere else she would rather be.
She opened her eyes and walked behind the counter she used both as an office and as a reception area when clients visited. There was a letter waiting for her on the desk. Rachel must have put it there yesterday. Picking it up, she saw the Harper’s Supplies logo on the envelope and for a moment she felt uneasy. Her adoptive parents had made a generous investment in Hope Meadows, but in spite of their help, there were still occasions when the size of the feed bills and all the other expenses made her wince. Ripping open the envelope, she pressed her lips together. The invoice was far higher than she had anticipated. There was a letter attached and she flipped it open.
‘Dear Amanda,’ she read. ‘I am sorry to let you know there was an error with your invoice from October and therefore the outstanding amount is rather higher than usual. Should you have any problems meeting this account, please do get in touch and we will discuss possible means of payment. Many thanks. Sally Harper.’
She looked up. The scene beyond the window was unchanged, but for a moment, the joy it brought her was dimmed. She had checked over the Hope Meadows accounts the day before and her bank statement had told her that without additional funding, she would soon be eating into her overdraft. She had calculated that she had enough to cover the November feed bill, but with the extra payment, there was no way she could afford to pay immediately. She would have to ring Sally, but it was Sunday evening. There was nothing she could do for now.
Pulling herself upright with a sigh, she walked through to the room where she kept her smallest inmates. She was greeted by the welcoming wheek, wheek, wheek of two guinea pigs who had been brought in last week. Their previous owner had gone to university and her mother had felt unable to give them the care they deserved. The sight of them lifted Mandy’s heart again. Despite the difficulties, this was all she had ever wanted. She smiled at the sight of a blunt little nose twitching. A pair of bright eyes peered out from the cage. ‘Hello, Snowie,’ she said to the rough-haired white cavy, ‘and hello, Bubble,’ as the second little creature appeared. Opening the fridge, Mandy pulled out a packet of rocket and posted a few leaves through the bars of the cage. She had been working with Snowie and Bubble every day, getting them used to being handled by someone different. They were mostly calm now, though if Mandy made a sudden noise or movement, they would still make a scrabbling dash for their bed.
Crossing to the other side of the room, Mandy gave some rocket to a pair of delicate, tiny Himalayan rabbits. She opened the door and stroked them each in turn. Their slim faces were almost comical with their twitching brown noses and soft dark ears, which contrasted so strikingly with the silky white fur on the rest of their bodies. Taking out her phone, Mandy took a few snaps of them in their newly cleaned cage. She would put the pictures on the rehoming page of her website later, alongside the profiles of the guinea pigs.
When Mandy returned to the reception area, Sky stood up from where she had been lying on her bed in the corner and came to greet her. Mandy bent down to give the collie a cuddle, burying her face in the soft fur. How sweet she smelled.
‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ Mandy promised. ‘I’m just going to check on the cats.’ She walked over to the soft basket and dropped a chew for Sky, who snuffled up the treat and lay down with a sigh that made Mandy want to laugh. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘You need so much patience to be my dog, don’t you?’ The sound of shuffling paws and Sky’s tail flickering up and down was her reply.
There were currently six cats in the centre, three adults and one mother who was nursing a pair of three-week-old kittens. Despite Mandy’s best efforts, the black and white mother cat was still very nervous about being handled and was inclined to hiss at the slightest provocation. She would, however, allow Mandy to remove her kittens from the nursing kennel. Since their eyes had opened, Mandy had been lifting them out at regular intervals, getting them used to being placed in different positions and learning to play simple games that would help with their training.
Mandy opened the cage of the oldest cat. Tango was a sweet ginger tom whose owner had died three weeks ago. The old lady’s relatives hadn’t been able to take him because they lived in a high rise flat and Tango had been used to going outside. He had once been very handsome, they had told Mandy. She thought he still looked splendid. His face held the quiet dignit
y of the aged feline: all prominent cheekbones with hollows in front of his ears. Tango butted his head against her, purring as she scratched behind his ear. He hadn’t taken all his food, she noticed. At least half of it was still in his bowl. With a last stroke for his nose, she ushered him back into the cage and swung the door closed.
It was time to take the dogs out. There were currently four dogs in the canine section. There was a brief burst of barking as Mandy entered the kennel area, but it stopped as soon as she called out. She worked as hard as she could to keep the dogs quiet, though it could be a problem with any new inmate, and one or two never seemed to stop. She took out the two crossbreeds first. The slightly larger male was called Albert, the female Twiglet.
With Sky watching through the window, Mandy led them into the orchard and put them through their paces, working them both on the lead and off, giving them time to play together and interact as well as working with them individually. With their smooth coats and endearingly long noses, they reminded Mandy of Seamus and Lily, the two muscular little dogs that belonged to James Hunter, her best friend.
Back in the summer, Seamus and Lily had been ringbearers at James’s wedding to Paul. Their marriage had lasted only a few short months before James’s new husband had succumbed to the devastating bone cancer that had torn through his body. Despite the pain, Mandy still felt privileged to have known Paul. He had named Hope Meadows and Mandy felt that with every animal she helped, it honoured the memory of a wonderful man. Seamus and Lily had been so dear to Paul, and Mandy knew that they had comforted James. She hoped she would find an equally special home for Albert and Twiglet.
Next it was the turn of the other two dogs, Melon and Flame. Melon was a two-year-old West Highland White terrier. His owners were due to have a baby. Mandy had offered to provide them with behavioural support when the baby arrived, but the couple seemed to feel that it was unsafe to have a dog in the house at all. Mandy hadn’t had the heart to argue with them. It was better for the characterful little dog to come to Hope Meadows than to be left with a family who didn’t really want him. Melon’s eyes were bright in his white fluffy face. He looked sweetly cheeky when he put his head on one side, his short tail aloft. Mandy was sure that someone would fall in love with him very soon.
The last of the four dogs was a gorgeous golden brindle lurcher with the most piercing bronze gaze Mandy had ever seen. Even after several weeks of training, Flame was highly excitable and not easy to control. Mandy had spent a lot of time ensuring the fences and the hedge that ran along one side of the orchard were secure, but she still worried about Flame’s safety. Although the fences were tall, the gate that led out into the field was slightly lower. If Flame spotted anything outside the paddock that she might view as prey, Mandy had a feeling that she might prove to be a talented escape artist.
As yet, Mandy had not found a way to practice Flame’s recall reliably. She knew it was important never to call the lurcher to come until she was certain Flame’s attention was on her and she would obey. There was no point setting the dog up to fail. Mandy had begun the training inside, where it was easier to keep Flame’s focus on her. But as soon as they moved outside, sniffing around the paddock had proved to be far more exciting than anything Mandy could offer. Nor was Flame motivated by food, not when there was a whiff of prey scent on the air. While Flame gambolled around, sniffing at every tree and clump of grass, Mandy did not dare to call her. If she did and Flame failed to come, then the lurcher would be learning the wrong lesson. Mandy had a thin nylon wire on a harness that she could use to pull the lurcher in if Flame’s training proved truly impossible. But she preferred not to use physical methods of attracting attention or to enforce obedience. They could, on occasion, give the animal unpleasant feedback. It was important to Mandy that Flame was able to enjoy their sessions.
For the time being, Mandy worked with Melon and kept her eye on Flame. On the odd occasion when the right moment arrived, and Flame did react positively, Mandy made sure she encouraged her as much as possible, both with treats and play.
Throughout the session with Melon and Flame, sometimes wandering round the orchard, but more of the time watching and joining in, was Sky. Mandy had worked hard to ensure the collie was as thoroughly socialised as possible. It was safe now for almost any dog to interact with her, and seeing Sky perform and receive treats often helped to raise the value of the rewards she gave to the other dogs. There was no question of Sky going anywhere, that was for sure. Hope Meadows would be her home forever.
Mandy thought back to the moment when she had plucked up the courage to ask her parents if she could keep Sky. Throughout her childhood at Animal Ark, Adam and Emily had maintained strict rules about taking on any of the stray animals that Mandy and James rescued. But Sky had been different from the beginning. Mandy hadn’t been sure what to expect when she sat Mum and Dad down and asked them outright whether she would be able to keep the collie. They had looked at one another with half-smiles, as if they found her question amusing. Then Adam had pointed out she was an adult now, and more than capable of electing to have a pet. Emily had added that she was delighted Mandy would have company when it was time for her to move out.
Mandy felt a familiar knot of worry inside her stomach. When she had first enquired about Lamb’s Wood Cottage, back in the summer, the estate agents had been encouraging and helpful. But when she had approached a mortgage company about the purchase, all kinds of problems had sprung up. Mandy had known how run down the cottage was, but she hadn’t realised that it might affect her ability to get a loan. It was three months since Robbie Grimshaw’s trustees had accepted her offer, and Mandy had her fingers crossed that next week might bring the news that her application had been granted. Much as Mandy loved her parents, there had been times in the past months when she been painfully aware that she had much less independence living under their roof.
A loud yelping jolted her back to the orchard. Mandy looked up to see Flame being catapulted tail over paws over the fence. The lurcher had tried to jump the gate, but one of her paws had caught on the railing. For an instant, Mandy thought she had broken her neck, but a moment later, the long-legged creature was back on her feet and racing across the field. Far beyond her on the green grass, a rabbit was in flight, its white tail receding at speed.
‘Flame!’ Mandy shouted. The lurcher did not check, even for a second. ‘Flame!’ Mandy called again, almost a screech. Running to the edge of the orchard, Mandy scanned the field, but Flame had already disappeared.
She called to Melon, who came trotting over at once, and took him back to his kennel. When she saw Flame’s empty cage, Mandy almost wanted to cry. It was her own fault. She had let her attention wander when she should have been focussed on a sensitive, reactive dog who was entirely her responsibility. Rushing into the cottage, she found Adam at the kitchen table.
Her father stood up as she hurtled in. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘It’s Flame!’ Mandy panted. ‘She’s run off.’
‘Okay.’ Adam took off his reading glasses. ‘What would you like me to do?’
Mandy thought fast. ‘I’ll go out in the car to look for her. I don’t have a chance of keeping up on foot. I think it’s best if you stay here in case someone spots her and rings on the landline.’
Adam nodded. ‘Right you are. Don’t forget to take your phone so you can let me know if you find Flame.’
Mandy grabbed her car keys, rushed outside, and jumped into her RAV4. Adam had followed her outside and she wound down the window.
‘She’ll turn up,’ said her father. Mandy pressed her lips together. She hoped he was right.
But after half an hour of driving around the lanes and the village, there was still no sign of the distinctive lurcher. Mandy headed back to Animal Ark with a sense of despair. What else could she do to find Flame? The short November day was ending and the darkening sky echoed Mandy’s gloom. She sighed as she turned off the engine and undid her seatbelt.
She was still sitting in the driver’s seat when the back door of the cottage burst open. Adam rushed out, the phone in his hand. ‘I’ve just had a report about a wild dog attacking some children’s rabbits! It sounds like Flame!’ he gasped. ‘This is the address.’ He handed over a sheet of paper.
Mandy read the note with a sinking feeling. Had Flame really attacked someone’s pets? For a moment she pictured the awful scene, but she dragged her mind back and read the note her father had handed her. Geoff Hemmings, 21 Norland Way. That was in the new estate on the edge of Welford. It wasn’t too far away. Putting the car into gear, she set off.
Chapter Three
The modern estate looked peaceful in the gathering dusk. One or two houses had Christmas lights along their gables and there were a few decorated trees already in windows. Their twinkling brightness felt inappropriate. Mandy’s head was throbbing. If Flame had killed the rabbits … Pulling on the handbrake outside number 21, she climbed out.
She walked up the path on shaking legs and rang the bell. The door swung open as if someone had been waiting. A man in a blue jacket glared at her.
‘I’m Amanda Hope.’ It was hard to get the words out. ‘About the dog.’
‘Come in.’ Mr Hemmings’ voice was curt. ‘We called the vet because we didn’t know what else to do. But the man we spoke to said it was from the rescue centre.’ He spat the words over his shoulder as he walked through to the back of the house. Two girls, both dressed in pyjamas and dressing gowns, stood in the living room, their hands against a glass door that led into the back garden. Both had their eyes fixed on the golden dog that was attacking the rabbit hutch in the garden.
