From now on, she should try to focus on the future and all the things she’d achieved in her new home. In the short term, that meant deciding whether to go to Brody’s party. After all, he had been sympathetic to her need to move away from a traditional Christmas, and he seemed a decent guy. Perhaps he really was one of the good ones.
While Sophie wasn’t sure she could face too much festive bonhomie, she didn’t want to let him down. After all, Brody had said she’d be doing him a favour …
CHAPTER FIVE
Brody drummed his fingers on the Defender’s steering wheel. It was mid-afternoon, but already going dark. He’d been called out to attend a difficult birth of a foal at a remote farm. Mother and baby were now doing well, but the call-out had gone on for longer than he’d expected and he was now on his way back to the surgery.
McKenna’s was a mixed practice, and Brody was proud that it was still independent. As clinical director, he led a small team of three veterinary surgeons supported by five vet nurses, two receptionists and two animal care assistants. While he might technically be the ‘boss’, he always mucked in with everyone else. He loved the variety of his job and the fact that one day he might be vaccinating lambs, and the next treating a guinea pig’s ear infection.
Today, as he was driving back, he felt drained. Yes, the foal birth had gone well, but earlier he’d had to give a peaceful end to a lovely old dog, a ‘Heinz 57’, as his owner had called him, a mix of Jack Russell and indeterminate parentage. At fifteen, the old chap had done very well and had lived a good life with his doting owner, but he had a large untreatable tumour. Brody knew it was the right thing to do, but that part of the job never got any easier. In fact since he’dhad Harold, who was now four, Brody had found this aspect even harder. He’d also felt bad that the practice was decorated for Christmas and music was playing in the waiting room as he’d escorted the owner to his car.
Life could be cruel, and there was no getting away from it. Maybe Sophie was onto something, because not everyone wanted festive merriment shoved down their throats all the time. The foal birth should have lifted his spirits and reminded him of the cycle of life, but as the dusk descended on this shortest day of the year, he felt gloomy. Normally he loved the lantern parade, but for once he was in no mood for it today. Other problems were also weighing on his mind and they weren’t going to go away, either.
Finally he reached the outskirts of the village, where every cottage and guest house was lit up or had a twinkling tree in the window, ready for the spectacle to begin. He was beginning to think he might make the parade after all, when red lights ahead forced him to brake and he ground to a halt.
The opposite side of the road was already closed off, but he was trapped in the long queue of traffic, which was moving forward at a snail’s pace, as visitors descended in their droves and tried to find spaces in the car parks. When the queue ground to a complete halt next to a small trading estate, Brody feared there was now gridlock in the village. He was venting his frustration with a few choice words when he looked out of his window and noticed a pickup truck in the car park at the entrance to the trading estate.
Sophie’s vehicle was parked – or, more accurately, stuck with a flat tyre – outside the laundry that served the localhotels and holiday cottages. Sophie was standing there, scrolling through her phone. Brody made a snap decision, turning out of the queue and into the laundry’s car park.
He got out of the car and walked briskly over to her. ‘You OK? Is there anything I can do to help?’
She glanced up, clearly taken aback. Her nose was red at the tip, as if she’d been standing outside for a long time. Even so, he thought she still looked great, though now was clearly not the time to mention such a thing. Even if he’d dared.
‘If you mean can you help me change the wheel, that would have been great, but unfortunately it’s not as simple as that.’ She nodded at the truck’s twisted wheel rim. ‘I hit a huge pothole in the lane, and I think it must have wrecked the actual wheel frame. I’ve spoken to the local garage, but they can’t get to me while the lantern parade is going on and the village is gridlocked.’
‘Hmm. No one’s going anywhere for a while, I’m afraid.’
Sophie put her phone in her pocket. ‘A long while, in my case. The garage isn’t sure it will be able to reach me until tomorrow now. Both their tow-trucks are out and I’m not part of a rescue service. Ha-ha, I decided to save my money, but that doesn’t seem to have done me any good.’
‘Bummer,’ said Brody, torn between offering to help and not trying to interfere. ‘Do you mind leaving the truck here tonight? I guess you’ll need to get home somehow?’
She shook her head. ‘You don’t have to. I was just going to call a taxi. Hopefully my phone battery will hold out,’ she protested.
‘I’m not going to leave you alone here, standing outside in the cold. Come with me to the surgery – we can wait there, warming up with a hot drink, and I have a phone charger lying around somewhere,’ he said, coming up with a good plan.
‘I don’t want to ruin your evening. Aren’t you supposed to be going to the parade?’ Sophie said, seeming hesitant.
‘I was. I stillam, hopefully. I arranged to meet some of the staff from work there, but I’m running late.’
‘Oh. I – I don’t want to spoil your evening or be in the way.’
‘Of the patients?’ he joked. ‘I shouldn’t think they’ll complain, as long as you don’t mind a few yappy dogs and vocal cats. We have a couple of convalescents staying overnight, you see.’
‘I don’t mind. Where’s Harold?’
‘I came straight from a call-out, but it’s better he’s left at home tonight. He’d be too excited by all the people and other dogs. Shall we go? These queues will only get worse. Bloody Christmas, eh? Always comes at the most inconvenient time of year.’
‘It’s not funny,’ Sophie replied, yet she was smiling as she said it. ‘OK, thanks for the offer.’
She climbed into Brody’s Defender and fastened her seatbelt. ‘How are you going to reach the surgery? It’s gridlocked.’
‘Oh, I’ll think of something,’ he said, feeling far less confident than he sounded.
The car crawled a few more yards. Sophie was explainingthat she’d been on her way to the laundry to pick up the linen for her Christmas guests when she’d hit the pothole.
‘Something felt wrong, but I thought it was better to get down the hill rather than block the lane. By the time I reached the laundry, I realised the wheel was completely shot.’
‘These potholes are a nightmare,’ Brody mumbled, distracted as he spotted a tall, willowy figure in a hi-vis jacket making his way up the line of traffic. He opened the window and hailed the man. ‘Hey, Carl!’
