Page 40 of Escape for Christmas
‘Several of the cafés in Bannerdale should stay open until mid-afternoon and there are a number of pubs. They’ll be open all day. Would you like a recommendation?’
Agatha wrinkled her nose. ‘Hmm, I’ll find a café, if I can. The pubs are sure to be full of revellers, and I want to save any revelling for later. I hope my fellow guests are civilised,’ she said, knitting her bushy eyebrows together and glaring at Sophie.
‘I hope so too,’ Sophie agreed with perfect sincerity, while trying not to laugh. ‘Have a nice lunch, and I look forward to seeing you later.’
Agatha jumped back into her car and sped off, the wheels spinning on the gravel. At the gate she tooted her horn loudly at a passing tractor before roaring off down the lane.
Wow! Sophie paused by the open car door, feeling as if she’d been steamrollered.
She was used to guests’ quirky ways, but Agatha Freeman was something else. She both lived up to Sophie’s expectation – a Miss Marple meets mid-century headmistress – and defied it, with her sports car and her talk of saving ‘any revelling for later’.
Sophie had better get over her disappointment about Brody fast, because she was going to need every ounce of her energy to get through the next few days.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘Thank you, Ms Rice. I’m sure Ivy will be fine with these antibiotics, but don’t hesitate to contact us if you’re concerned,’ Brody said.
The pets of Bannerdale clearly didn’t know it was Christmas Eve. Since 9 a.m., when he’d returned from the farm shop, Brody had been dealing with all kinds of creatures, including a hamster with a urinary-tract infection, who was sent home with antibiotics and instructions to dip his carrot sticks in the meds.
Ivy, the British shorthair, was the last patient. She had ear mites and, while Brody was trying to examine her, she’d taken out her displeasure on him by clawing his arm. Her talons had drawn blood, though the owner had chortled as if it was hilarious.
‘Ivy is such a character! Naughty puss!’ Ms Rice declared, stroking Ivy’s head. Ivy hissed at Brody.
‘And a happy Christmas to you too, Ivy,’ he grumbled, bleeding over the exam table.
‘She’s grateful really,’ Ms Rice said. ‘Aren’t you, sweetheart?’
Ivy retreated into her carrier, snarling at Brody.
It was now after 2 p.m. and he’d stayed a full hour after opening time to see urgent cases, sending the staff home and managing the last appointments on his own.
After he bolted the door behind Ms Rice and Ivy, he flung off his Santa hat. He was so wrung out by the events of the past twenty-four hours that, if he’d been a cartoon character, he’d have sunk down against the door and melted in a puddle on the reception floor. He couldn’t even relax with a pint, because he had to drive home, and he was on-call until the start of Boxing Day.
Then he reminded himself that however much his patients weren’t impressed by him, it was nothing compared to Sophie’s opinion of him.
Brody took off his scrubs, had a wash, got changed and put some Savlon on the nasty scratch on his arm. Now he was fifteen minutes late to meet Carl, whom he’d summoned for emergency moral support at the Red Lion. He desperately needed someone to talk to before he went back to Felltop that afternoon. Because he had slept in the spare room and left early for work, he hadn’t seen Tegan since last night.
She was heading to her parents’ house after breakfast to spend the day with them. Christmas Day itself was to be split between his mother’s and Tegan’s parents. She was staying at their house on Christmas night and, although Brody had been invited to stay too, he’d said he ought to be at Felltop in case he was called out and disturbed them in the night, which had been a good excuse.
The Red Lion had Slade blaring out of the speakers,mulled wine on tap and hordes of locals who’d crowded in after finishing work early. It reminded Brody of breaking up from school, but with real ale, and without the scraps with the private-school kids up the road.Yet.
He weaved his way through the main bar to a small room at the rear of the pub, warmed by a roaring fire. Carl lounged in a corner of the snug, looking as annoyingly handsome as ever. Brody didn’t know why Carl hadn’t found a permanent partner yet, although he knew that, sadly, it wasn’t for the want of trying. He grinned broadly when Brody walked over to his table, revealing a set of perfect teeth as white as mountain snow.
‘Hello there. I thought you’d decided to stand me up.’
‘Sorry, I got held up treating a last-minute patient.’
‘Wow.’ Carl winced when he saw Brody’s hand. ‘You’re not as popular with the animals as with the owners then?’
‘Not with a black-and-white cat called Ivy, who objected to me trying to treat her ear mites.’
‘Ouch! “Ivy”, though. Very seasonal.’
‘I don’t think she was feeling too festive.’
‘You don’t look in the Yuletide spirit, either. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like you’ve not slept.’
‘I haven’t had a lot of kip, no.’
