Christmas at Mistletoe Cottage

by Lucy Daniels

  In one respect, it was a relief that she was willing to admit that there were donkeys in the back garden; Mandy never ceased to be astonished by what people tried to hide from Seb. They had found a bull mastiff crammed into a bathroom cupboard before now, with the owner swearing blind he’d never had a dog in the house. But it was so frustrating to look at the mess these donkeys had made of the tidy suburban garden without the householders realising they needed somewhere completely different to live.

  Mandy bit back the flood of words that tried to burst out. Why didn’t people do some research before rushing out to buy pets? Or even just engage their brains? ‘The garden’s not suitable for donkeys, I’m afraid,’ she said, once she had full control of her tongue.

  Mrs Powell shook her head. ‘They’re miniature donkeys,’ she said. ‘The breeder told us they’d only grow to the size of a large dog. He told us it would be fine.’

  Mandy narrowed her eyes. Even miniature donkeys would need more space than this.

  Mia let go of Mandy’s hand. ‘They’re in here,’ she announced, stepping up to the shed with a proud smile. Pushing down the latch, she stepped back and let the door swing open.

  Two grey fluffy shapes rushed out of the shed, kicking their heels and tossing their heads. Despite the sweetness of their furry faces and dark eyes, Mandy felt a jolt of alarm. Although the donkeys were not much bigger than a Labrador, they looked slim, their muscles not yet fully formed. Their legs seemed overly long. ‘How old are they exactly?’ she asked.

  ‘The breeder said they were two years old,’ Mrs Powell said.

  Mandy studied the donkeys. They were rushing in circles, skidding to a halt leaving hoof marks in the lawn, then trotting off again, delighted to be outside. Mandy hadn’t come across many miniature donkeys, but her instinct was telling her this pair didn’t look anything like two years old. ‘I’ll need to check their teeth,’ she said. She would keep her doubts to herself until she was sure.

  ‘Are you able to catch them for us?’ Seb sounded dubious as he addressed Mrs Powell.

  To Mandy’s surprise, Mrs Powell was surprisingly efficient. She walked inside the shed and shook some food into a metal bucket. At the sound of the pellets, the two skittish animals made a bolt past them and rushed inside. Mandy and Seb slid in as well, pulling the door shut behind them. Though the shed was clean, it was very small for the donkeys to live in.

  Two little headcollars hung on the wall, one pink, one blue. In the cramped space inside the shed, she and Seb managed to trap first one and then the other of the donkeys. It was obvious they didn’t like having the headcollars in place and were not used to being led. It wasn’t bright enough in the shed for her to examine them properly, so holding tightly to the ropes, they opened the door and manoeuvred the reluctant animals back outside. As far as Mandy could see, they were both in good health. Their fur was soft, especially behind their outrageously long ears. Holly in particular seemed to love being stroked. Mandy was not surprised when she lifted Robin’s tail to discover that the little animal was uncastrated. If they were as young as she thought, it was better for his health that he had not been neutered yet, but it was likely to make him harder to handle as he grew.

  All that remained was to check their age. Mandy’s suspicions were confirmed when she finally managed to check Holly’s mouth and discovered that the little donkey still had milk teeth. The outermost incisor was not even through. A quick check in Robin’s mouth showed the same thing.

  ‘They’re not miniature donkeys,’ she announced, straightening up. ‘They are foals.’ And not really old enough to be weaned, she thought with a wave of anger at Mrs Powell’s ignorance and the deliberate deception on the part of the breeder. He or she was at least as much to blame for these baby donkeys ending up in such an inappropriate home.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s not suitable for livestock to be kept in such a small space,’ Seb told Mrs Powell, who was still holding the baby.

  ‘But they aren’t foals,’ Mrs Powell objected. ‘They’re miniature.’

  ‘They are not miniature,’ Mandy insisted. ‘They’re young. In eighteen months’ time, they’ll be fullgrown donkeys.’

  ‘Well, it isn’t our fault.’ Mrs Powell’s mouth was set in an obstinate line. ‘The breeder lied to us.’

  Mandy looked at Seb, who let out a sigh before speaking. ‘It doesn’t really matter who’s at fault,’ he said. Mandy was impressed by his patience. ‘They need a proper field.’

  ‘And a shelter,’ Mandy put in. ‘The garden shed’s not big enough even now. Donkey’s coats aren’t waterproof. And they probably still need milk. Have they been wormed?’ She came to a halt. Mrs Powell was starting to look horrified.

  ‘We can’t afford anything fancy like that,’ she protested. Mandy found herself wondering how much they had paid for the donkeys. Very likely they hadn’t been cheap.

  Behind them, a door slammed. Mandy turned to see a man in a black jacket and designer jeans striding across the churned lawn. He walked straight up to Seb, stopping so close his nose was almost touching the welfare officer’s face. ‘What’s this?’ he demanded, glaring round from Seb to Mandy, to the children and then back. Mandy noticed that the children had fallen silent and were staring at the man with worried eyes. ‘What’re you doing with my donkeys?’

  Seb took a discreet step backwards, keeping his expression bland. ‘We heard that there were donkeys being kept in a back garden,’ he explained. ‘I’m Seb Conway. I’m the welfare officer. And this is Amanda Hope. She’s a veterinary surgeon.’ Mandy was impressed by how calm Seb seemed to be. ‘I appreciate that you bought these donkeys with the best intentions, but I’m afraid the garden isn’t a suitable place to keep them.’

  Mr Powell seemed to swell inside his clothes and the back of his neck turned red. Mandy froze, wondering whether she should try to do anything, but she had no idea what.

  ‘They’re my donkeys and they’re fine!’ Mr Powell shouted.

  Holly, the little jenny, backed away. Mandy let her go, though she kept hold of the rope. Robin, who was standing with Seb, also retreated to the end of his lead rope.

  ‘Think you can just walk in here and start ordering us round, do you?’ Mr Powell continued in a growl. ‘Pair of do-gooders. You country types are all the same.’ By now he was jabbing his finger at Seb.

  Robin suddenly jerked his head backwards before skittering off to the side. Mandy only just jumped out of the way as he barrelled past, then tried to stamp on the rope as it slithered after him. She missed and only succeeded in splashing herself with mud. Robin rushed off across the lawn, leaving a trail of fresh divots.

  Mandy clenched her hands, digging her fingernails into her palms. She reminded herself that the Powells hadn’t done any deliberate harm to the donkeys, and they had bought them in good faith that they would be tiny pets. But you can’t keep any kind of donkey in a garden! Mandy raged internally. She was again impressed by Seb, who merely moved away from Mr Powell, turned to her and said, ‘Give me a hand getting him caught, would you?’

  Mandy handed Holly’s rope to Mrs Powell. ‘Hold that tightly,’ she told the alarmed-looking woman. ‘Don’t wrap it round your hand. You might get hurt.’

  With the lead rope trailing behind Robin, it wasn’t too hard to catch the little jack. Both Mia and Stephen looked tearful now, as if they realised their donkeys were in trouble. Once Seb had hold of Robin, Mandy went back and took Holly’s rope from Mrs Powell.

  Mr Powell shook his head. ‘I want you to leave now,’ he ordered, gesturing to the side gate. ‘I’ve had enough of your interfering.’ His eyes flashed when Mandy and Seb didn’t move at once. ‘Did you hear me?’ He seemed to be coming closer and closer to boiling point. Mandy stood motionless, clutching Holly’s rope, hardly daring to breathe.

  ‘You’re still here.’ Now Mr Powell was shouting directly in her face. From the corner of her eye, Mandy saw a head appear at the fence, then another. Great. They were attracting a local audi
ence.

  Seb had his phone out and was dialling a number.

  Very slowly, holding her hands palm outwards, though still clinging to Holly’s rope, Mandy backed away from the angry man. She needed to talk to Seb about what they were going to do. The donkeys weren’t safe here, with too little space and that privet hedge, but Mandy didn’t want to provoke Mr Powell any more than they had already done.

  There were now about five heads looking over the fence, staring at the tableau of donkey welfare. The situation seemed ludicrous. Mandy moved as close as she could to Seb. ‘Should we leave?’ she asked.

  ‘You’re probably right,’ Seb replied quietly. ‘We should put them back in the shed,’ he suggested. ‘Leave the headcollars on. Give Mr Powell time to calm down.’

  But as Mandy started to lead Holly forward, the air was split by the noise of sirens from the street outside.

  Chapter Eight

  Mandy froze. Squinting over at Seb, she saw him glance in alarm towards Mr Powell.

  ‘I said it wasn’t an emergency,’ Seb said in a thick voice.

  Mr Powell strode across the lawn, swearing under his breath. Mia and Stephen had retreated behind their mother.

  ‘Maybe you should calm down, Jason.’ Mandy looked at Mrs Powell in surprise. Her words made no apparent difference to her husband, but Mandy was amazed that the woman had said anything at all.

  A handsome dark-skinned face peered over the garden gate. Mandy, who was not far from the fence, tugged Holly over and opened the latch. Two police officers stepped into the garden, hats tucked under their arms. ‘I’m Sergeant Dan Jones, and this is PC Ellen Armstrong.’

  Mandy didn’t know whether to feel relieved or alarmed at seeing PC Armstrong. On one hand, it was nice to see a familiar face. On the other, yet again Mandy and her rescue animals were at the centre of trouble which required police attention. She studied the officer with Ellen. She was pretty sure Sergeant Jones had been at Lamb’s Wood too, but she hadn’t had a chance to speak to him. Despite the intensity of the situation, she couldn’t help but take an interest in the man who she knew was married to Jimmy Marsh’s ex-wife. He looked fearless, she thought, and intelligent.

  It didn’t take long for Mr Powell to react. He marched towards them, his head extended like a gamecock about to attack. ‘This just gets better, doesn’t it?’ he grunted. He held out his wrists. ‘Well go on then,’ he taunted, ‘arrest me, why don’t you?’

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ Sergeant Jones said calmly. ‘We’re only here to support Mr Conway.’

  Both of them turned to look at Seb, who was looking faintly incongruous, holding on to a knee-high donkey. Seb in turn looked at Mandy, his eyebrows raised.

  ‘The foals can’t stay here,’ she said. ‘The garden isn’t big enough and there are poisonous plants.’

  ‘Utter rubbish,’ Mr Powell objected. ‘You’ve no idea what you’re on about. They’re not even foals, they’re miniature donkeys.’

  Mrs Powell, however, straightened up as if she was relieved to hear what Mandy had said. Looking down at Mia and Stephen, who were standing as close to her as they could, she began to explain. ‘I know you love Robin and Holly,’ she said, ‘but this lady,’ she pointed to Mandy, ‘she’s a vet and she says we haven’t got enough room. They’re not as old as we thought. They’re still growing and they won’t be able to fit in the garden.’

  Mia’s lip began to wobble. There were tears in Stephen’s eyes. Mandy crouched down at the end of Holly’s lead rope, looking at the children on their own level. ‘I won’t be taking them far away,’ she promised. ‘You can come and visit them while they’re staying with me, if you like.’

  Stephen blinked, and Mia nodded bravely. But Mr Powell hadn’t finished. ‘I don’t know how you’ve got the nerve to talk to my kids,’ he said. ‘Those donkeys were their Christmas present and you’re stealing them before Christmas is even here. Christmas is ruined now. Your fault. Stupid interfering cow.’

  First Mia’s mouth opened and a loud wail burst out, then Stephen screwed up his face and began sobbing loudly. The toddler in Mrs Powell’s arms joined in too.

  Mandy reached into her pocket and took out her mobile. ‘Could you hold Holly for a minute please, Ellen?’ she mouthed at the PC and held out the lead rope. Ellen stepped forward and took it. Dialling the Animal Ark number, Mandy turned away as far as she could, pressed the phone against her head and stuck her finger in her other ear to block out the sound of howling children and Mr Powell’s chuntering.

  She was glad when Adam answered. ‘Hi Dad,’ Mandy said, as clearly as she could manage. ‘I need you to bring the trailer to Walton, if you can. I need to pick up a pair of donkeys.’ She had bought the secondhand trailer from Brandon Gill for a very reasonable price and she was glad of it now. Otherwise, they could have been scrabbling round all night, trying to find transport.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ Adam asked, having taken down the address and repeated it back to Mandy.

  ‘Fine,’ she assured him. ‘There’s a bit of a fuss going on, that’s all.’

  After another tense thirty minutes, she was heartily glad when her father arrived. Mr Powell had finally tired of throwing insults, but was telling the children and the neighbours and anyone else who would listen that nobody had the right to take away his Christmas donkeys. What they were doing was theft. Mrs Powell hadn’t tried to argue with her husband any more. She looked defeated, Mandy thought.

  With the help of her dad and Seb, Mandy ushered first Holly and then Robin up the ramp into the trailer. She was glad the two little animals weren’t any bigger. She and Adam almost had to lift Robin on board, linking hands behind him and pushing as Seb stood in front with the lead rope. When the donkeys were safely inside the trailer, Adam climbed into the front seat of the Discovery.

  Seb spoke to Mr Powell once more. ‘I know you don’t agree, but we’re not stealing your donkeys,’ he explained. ‘We’re taking them away,’ and now he was talking over the aggressive man’s voice, ‘to somewhere suitable until you can find somewhere better for them to live. They need a properly fenced field and a watertight shelter, at the very least.’

  ‘What if we can’t find anywhere?’ Mrs Powell’s face looked unexpectedly hopeful at the idea the donkeys might not have to come back. ‘Will you keep them?’

  Mandy glanced at Mr Powell, who was turning purple again. ‘Let’s not think about that now. I can have them for four weeks,’ she said, ‘which gives you plenty of time to look for a field.’

  ‘Can we go inside?’ Seb said to Mrs Powell. ‘There’s some paperwork we have to complete.’ Mrs Powell headed back to the door with her children trailing after her. Sergeant Jones and PC Armstrong stood beside Mr Powell while Mandy climbed into her car. As she drove off behind her father with the trailer, she glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw Mr Powell glaring after her. She took a long, shuddery breath. They hadn’t trained her for baby donkey conflict at vet school!

  It was a relief to get back to Hope Meadows. Fortunately, for the moment, the two donkeys were the only large animals Mandy had in so there was plenty of room. Adam backed the trailer into the paddock and by the time Mandy had parked up and joined them, he and Helen Steer, who had returned from her holiday, were lowering the ramp.

  ‘Oh, they’re so sweet!’ Helen gasped as the two grey shapes trotted out from the back of the trailer. Robin looked around the paddock, comically long ears pricked. Holly dropped her head to the ground and snorted at the grass. After a pause, the pair skipped around the paddock, exploring every corner.

  ‘I’ll help you get the straw,’ Helen offered after they had watched the donkeys make a complete circuit of the orchard. She and Mandy gave the empty field shelter a thick layer of bedding and filled the water tub. When they returned, the foals were staring through the fence at the fellside as if they were dreaming of even bigger adventures.

  ‘We’ll give them a day or two to settle in,’ Mandy said, ‘then we can make a st
art on getting them trained.’

  When she turned to go back in, she caught sight of the pallet that she had leaned against the hedge earlier. ‘Could you give me a hand?’ she asked Helen. ‘There was a hole in the hedge this morning. I put that pallet over it, but I need to find something better.’

  Helen frowned. ‘A hole in the hedge? How did that happen?’

  ‘I really don’t know,’ Mandy admitted as she led Helen over. Together, they pulled away the temporary barrier and crouched down to inspect the strange gap. ‘Do you think it looks man-made?’ Mandy said. ‘It doesn’t look as if an animal did it.’

  ‘I see what you mean.’ Helen’s voice was doubtful. ‘But who on earth would want to do that? Don’t the locals think our dogs are wild and unsafe?’

  Mandy could tell that Helen was trying to make a joke, but she was finding it hard to see the funny side. It was bad enough that Flame had been in danger once, running loose on the roads. If it happened again, Mandy’s reputation would unravel faster than an old sweater.

  ‘I don’t think you should worry.’ Helen’s voice had sobered as if she had realised Mandy wasn’t in the mood for humour. ‘Surely nobody would be mean enough. It must have been some kind of accident. Maybe it was a car?’

  It would be odd if there had been an accident of any sort in the lane without them knowing about it, but it wasn’t impossible, thought Mandy. Perhaps someone had run off the road and their car had done the damage. But she couldn’t see how a car could have struck the hedge and made such a neat hole. With a mental shrug, she helped Helen stuff the gap with short pieces of plank and tie them in place with wire.

  ‘Jimmy’s invited me to the Fox and Goose for dinner tonight,’ Mandy said as she rotated her pliers to hold two ends of wire together.

  ‘Great!’

  Mandy felt her cheeks turn pink as Helen stared at her. ‘We’re taking things slowly,’ Mandy told her.