Escape for Christmas

Chapter Twenty-Seven

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

‘There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?’ Tegan said as they returned to Felltop Farm later that evening, after spending Boxing Day with her family.

Brody wished he felt the same.

He locked the front door behind him. ‘It’s good to be home,’ he sighed, relieved that he didn’t have to keep up the pretence any longer.

Brody’s mother had joined them for lunch and he’d made a big effort to set aside his misgivings and make the day as happy as possible. Tegan had played her part too, although they’d both been reminded of how fragile her father’s health was. Brody felt his mind was elsewhere, constantly drifting off to thoughts of Sophie and wondering how she was getting on.

‘I think I’ll make a tea,’ Tegan cut into his thoughts. ‘Do you want one?’

‘Yes. Thanks. I need a shower first.’

Brody showered in his en suite as quickly as he could, hoping the effect of the warm water and his previous broken nights would result in a swift and deep sleep later on. He walked into the bedroom to find Tegan sitting on the end of the bed in silk pyjamas and a robe.

‘You shouldn’t be in here,’ he said, acutely aware of being naked.

‘Why not?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘It’s not as if I haven’t seen it all before.’

‘Because … you know why. What would Wes say?’ he added, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

‘I’m not thinking about Wes,’ she whispered, standing up and trying to move closer to him.

Brody walked around the other side of the bed, reaching for a pair of little-used pyjama bottoms from the chest of drawers.

Tegan looked intently at him. ‘Don’t you normally sleep naked?’

Keen not to make a big thing of it, he laughed. ‘The farmhouse does tend to be cold this time of year, if you hadn’t noticed.’ To emphasise the fact, he pulled on a sweatshirt. ‘I thought you were making a drink?’

She sighed and played with her hair. ‘I came in to ask if you wanted anything with it. Brandy? Whisky? Now you’re off-duty you can relax.’

That was impossible, Brody thought. He hadn’t truly relaxed for days, weeks – maybe even longer, since he’d been part of this charade. Apart from at the lantern parade, and at the party with Sophie. She made him feel good about himself and they got on so well, having gone through similar experiences. ‘No, thanks. Just the coffee will be fine. I’ll come down now,’ he added firmly, keen to get rid of Tegan.

When he got downstairs, Tegan was curled up on the sofa. ‘What did you think of Dad then?’ she asked. ‘I was shocked when I saw him. He’s looking thinner and like he hasn’t slept. He didn’t eat much dinner, either.’

‘He’s probably worried about the surgery. That’s understandable,’ Brody reasoned.

Tegan stretched and yawned. And at that point her phone rang. She pressed her lips together. ‘Sorry. I need to get this.’

She walked off, and he heard the stairs creak under her hurried footsteps. ‘OK, Wes. Just because you’re three thousand miles away doesn’t mean you need to shout!’

He stayed in the snug longer than he’d intended, keen to avoid overhearing Tegan’s conversation with her boyfriend. He neither wanted to hear them arguing nor getting ‘lovey-dovey’, both of which only brought him pain and made him feel helpless. Tegan might have hurt him and no longer be a part of his romantic life, but he still cared about her as a friend. He couldn’t bear to think of her throwing her life away on a man who was clearly an absolute tosser.

Harold deigned to shift himself from the carpet and licked his hand, and Brody realised how cold he’d grown in the unheated room.

‘OK, boy. Hint taken. Let’s go up to bed.’

‘Harold! Harold! Come back here!’

It was a hopeless cause. Harold hared off across the field towards Sunnyside.

‘Ha-Rold!’ Brody bellowed, but by now the Labrador was out of earshot. Brody had taken him for a walk as soon as the sun was up. A few drifts of snow had stubbornly stuck around, but mostly the fields were slushy and muddy. Harold was already filthy and also wildly over-excited to be out. All the strange people, smells and disruption of his routine had turned him into an unruly toddler again, not the four-year-old almost-sensible dog he’d become.

Brody started to jog after him, slipping in the slush in his wellies. He reached the gate that opened from the footpath to Sunnyside’s garden just in time to see Harold slip inside the rear door to Sophie’s flat, which was slightly ajar to let the smell of frying bacon out.

‘Sh-h-hit …’ Brody muttered, breaking into a run.

He reached the open back door.

‘ Oh, Harold! No! ’

He marched inside to find chaos. A tray of sausages was scattered on the floor, with Harold happily hoovering them up. Muddy paw-prints were smeared all over the tiles.

‘Oh God,’ Brody muttered, before grabbing Harold’s collar.’ I’m sorry! Harold, you so should not be in here.’

Sophie’s hair was piled messily on her head, her cheeks were red and her apron was smeared with tomato ketchup. She’d never looked more beautiful or more stressed out.

‘You can’t blame the dog,’ she said sharply, implying that she very much blamed Brody, as his owner.

‘He must have been attracted by the smell,’ Brody said, holding on to Harold for grim death. ‘He ran off. It’s my fault for not keeping him under control. Harold!’ Brody tightened the lead as the Labrador lunged for another sausage. ‘I’m so sorry about the mess. I’ll take him outside, and I’ll pay for the sausages,’ he said, knowing the offer sounded ridiculous, yet desperate to help in some way.

He shooed Harold out of the back door and into the porch. ‘Now stay there!’ he said sternly. Harold settled down on the mat in the porch. ‘Here, have this.’ He gave the Labrador a rawhide bone from his coat pocket. It was wrong to reward the dog for pinching food, but he wanted to make it up to Sophie. ‘I’ll be back for you – you reprobate,’ he said, wagging a finger.

Back in the kitchen, Sophie was tipping the sausages into the bin.

‘Was that someone’s breakfast?’ he asked. ‘I mean, obviously it was someone’s breakfast.’

‘Well, yes. They were for Amber, Suzanne and Agatha.’

‘And Nico?’ he asked.

Sophie frowned. ‘Nico had a continental breakfast, because he wanted to go out early to take some photos. Anyway you really don’t have to pay for the sausages. I’ll offer the others extra eggs and mushrooms. I’m sure they won’t mind. After the other catastrophes, a few missing sausages won’t make much difference at this point.’

‘Even so, I feel responsible.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘For the sausages?’

For everything, he thought.

She looked away. ‘I have to get on with the breakfast. Hugo and Una went for a stroll, but they’ll be back any minute. Amber’s waiting for hers, and I need to explain.’

Brody heard barking outside the back door, yet he couldn’t leave.

‘I know this is terrible timing, but I really need to talk to you.’

‘You’re right. You’ve picked the worst time, and I don’t see what we have to talk about. Please, let me get the breakfasts. Ricky was meant to come, but he has the flu, so I’m on my own.’ She picked up a frying pan.

‘I can help. I can fry some bacon.’

‘No, really. There’s no need.’

‘I have to do something.’

‘For you or for me?’ she asked. Brody thought that Sophie knew him far too well.

‘Both. Where’s the bacon? In the fridge? You go and talk to your guests.’

Sophie let out a sigh of exasperation, then said, ‘If you really want to help, you can clean the kitchen floor. The mop and bucket are in the scullery. I’ll sort out the breakfast.’

Brody found them and set about erasing the evidence of Harold’s sausage raid. Sophie came back from speaking to the guests and started frying bacon.

Having come out with Harold first thing, before having any breakfast himself, Brody’s mouth watered at the aroma of frying bacon and at the sizzle of the pan. Ignoring his hunger pains, he finished the floor, checked on Harold – who was happily eating his bone – and went back into the kitchen.

‘Do you want this bacon?’ Sophie asked, holding up a pan with two rashers. It felt like a peace offering. ‘I’ve done too much.’

His stomach rumbled, yet he was also aware that Tegan would be wondering where he was. ‘I shouldn’t,’ he said.

‘Suit yourself. The bread’s on the table if you change your mind.’

She waltzed out of the kitchen with the last two plates of breakfast, and Brody finally caved in. He slapped the bacon between two slices of farmhouse bread and bit into it. He was starving and he wasn’t going to refuse Sophie’s offer.

When she returned to the kitchen, he was upending the ketchup bottle onto the second half of the sandwich.

‘Ah, you did change your mind then?’ she said, rewarding him with a faint smile.

‘Woof!’

Brody groaned. ‘I’d better see what Harold’s up to now, in case he’s bothering your guests.’

Sandwich in hand, Brody hurried outside, still eating the last of his bacon butty. He didn’t want Harold committing further misdemeanours with Sophie’s guests. But he needn’t have worried because Harold was still outside, lying on his back while Una Hartley-Brewer tickled his tummy.

‘What a lovely boy you are. How handsome!’

Experiencing a momentary pang of envy that his dog was more popular than he was, Brody swallowed his last bite and joined Una and Hugo.

‘Oh, here’s your owner,’ Hugo said, on seeing Brody.

‘I think it’s very much the other way around,’ Brody replied. ‘I hope he’s not being a nuisance?’

Hugo scoffed. ‘Harold could never be a nuisance. Could you, old chap?’

Sophie walked out with a bin bag and smiled again on seeing Harold rolling over and snuffling with pleasure at being the centre of attention.

‘We were just coming into breakfast,’ Una said.

‘I’m afraid some of it is inside Harold,’ Brody commented, with a stern look at the dog.

‘He got into the kitchen and stole the sausages,’ Sophie explained, exchanging a glance with Brody.

Hugo chortled. ‘Did he? Who can blame him? I bet they smelt far too tempting. Sophie’s breakfasts are amazing.’

‘I’ll do you extra bacon instead,’ Sophie offered.

‘That’s kind, but please don’t worry,’ Una replied. ‘I suppose we’d better come in and enjoy our last few hours. I don’t want to leave.’ She paused before sighing. ‘I don’t want to go home, if I’m honest. I know it’s silly, but the house seems so empty without the kids and our best pal. Sorry. I’m being sentimental. It’s just been so nice to be in a full house again.’

Sophie patted her arm. ‘You’re not being silly, and I understand. I don’t know what I’d do without Jingle and Belle,’ she added kindly.

Though Brody was used to being with bereaved pet owners, he was still moved. ‘I feel that way about Harold too. He’s one of my best mates. I know what it’s like to lose a friend, be it a dog, a cat, a horse … Pets carve out a special place in our hearts.’

‘Of course you must know that more than most,’ Una said. ‘I couldn’t do your job.’

‘I’ll let you into a secret,’ Brody replied, smiling. ‘Sometimes I think I can’t do it myself, but I want to do my best for all animals and, if I can help, then I will. I must.’ He was surprised by how passionate he sounded. Una and Hugo had reminded him of the reasons he’d gone into veterinary practice in the first place.

‘You’re a lovely man,’ Una said, making Brody wince inwardly.

‘It’s been a pleasure to meet you and Sophie – and Harold.’ Hugo shook Brody’s hand and smiled at Sophie.

‘And Tegan, of course,’ Una added hastily. ‘I hope we see you again when we come back to Sunnyside in the summer. You’ll probably be married then. Have you set a date?’

Brody squirmed. ‘Er – not yet.’

‘Take my advice,’ Hugo said. ‘Don’t hang about. You’ll be wanting a family soon. Can’t be rattling around in that big place on your own.’

‘Hugo …’ Una said, though Brody guessed she fully agreed with her husband.

‘I’d better go back in and sort out your breakfast,’ Sophie said and slipped back into the kitchen.

‘Come on, Harold!’ Brody urged him glumly, picking up his lead.

The couple followed Sophie through the rear door, and Brody trudged home towards Felltop. He’d be glad to get back to work later, where he could focus on treating his patients and not think about his complicated personal life – even though it was a coward’s way out of what he knew, in his heart, he ought to do.