‘Gumboot?’ He laughed as they walked in the gate and Henry put the dog onto the grass.
‘He is shaped like a gumboot and was found in one. I think it’s fitting. If the gumboot fits, as they say.’
‘Okay, Gumboot it is then,’ said Henry.
Clara rushed inside and picked up her handbag and her phone. She saw she had three missed calls from an unknown number but no messages were left, so she ignored them and found a box and blanket for Gumboot and went out and put it on the back seat.
‘He can sit in the back,’ she said, as Henry carried him over and carefully placed him in the box on the soft blanket.
‘You drive,’ she said. ‘In case he needs me.’
Henry laughed as they got into the car.
‘We should get him looked at by a vet,’ said Clara.
‘Joe already did. He’s fine but small. Needs proper food and care and he will bounce back.’
By the time they drove back to Merryknowe, Gumboot had a new bed, special puppy food, toys, a little hot water bottle for night-time and a little jacket to grow into for cold days.
He also had a navy-blue collar and with a silver tag engraved with his name and Clara’s phone number.
‘We’ll pick up Pansy and then head home,’ Henry said as they drove into the village.
Lunchtime was busy at the bakery, with people spilling around the front eating sausage rolls out of brown paper bags and the tables inside were filled. A large tourist bus was parked further down near the church. Gumboot was asleep in the box, exhausted from the time in the pet store and the car, where he’d cried until Clara held him.
Clara went to the shop and walked inside and went behind the counter.
‘So busy,’ she said to Rachel who passed with three plates of Devonshire teas.
‘We were named on some website as being the best tearooms in the area and this is the second bus to come and they said there will be another one later. I can’t keep up.’ Rachel rushed out to the tables, frazzled.
Clara saw Alice was helping and another girl she presumed was a friend of Alice’s.
‘I would stay and help but I have a new dog,’ she said as Rachel whizzed by again, as though on roller skates. She looked down at Rachel’s feet and saw she was wearing new fashionable sneakers.
‘Nice shoes,’ she commented.
‘Thanks. Alice recommended them, so Joe took me to Salisbury to buy them,’ said Rachel and Clara saw her blush.
‘Lovely,’ she said. Rachel looked her age now, not like a retired nun, and whatever was happening with her and Joe was giving her a spring in her sneakered step.
‘I will need to talk to you later about what we can do about Moira. Do you want to catch up at the pub tonight?’
Rachel nodded. ‘Seven?’ she suggested.
Clara agreed and left them to the rush.
Her phone rang as she was leaving the tearooms. The same number as before and she answered it, hoping it wasn’t Judas or Piles.
‘Clara Maxwell?’ asked the voice.
‘Yes?’
It’s James Lang from Commercial Property in Salisbury. I am trying to get onto Rachel Brown but she isn’t answering, so her mother gave me your number.’
‘How can I help?’ asked Clara carefully. What was Moira up to now? she wondered. Moira Brown was a piece of work and her instincts told her this call wasn’t good news.
‘Mrs Brown has decided to sell the bakery and tearooms and I am to come and take measurements, and she wanted you to ensure Rachel would be there.’
Clara stood in the middle of the road, as Pansy and Henry stepped out of Tassie’s house and waved at them.
She paused and then she spoke clearly and firmly.
‘Moira Brown doesn’t own that property. Her stepdaughter Rachel Brown does, so tell her she can go and stick it up her jumper, because we are about to take her to court for everything and more. So tell her to get ready because I’m about to make her life as pleasant as she made Rachel’s for the last twenty-five years.’
42
Convincing Rachel to see Moira at the rehabilitation centre took some serious negotiating and swift talking from Clara but in the end, losing the bakery and tearooms was a bigger fear than the venom that Moira spat out. Clara had driven her to the hospital and was waiting in the car park in case she needed her. Rachel just had to call, using the new phone that she had bought with Joe when they went shopping. She held the phone in the pocket of her jacket as she walked towards the centre.
The automatic doors of the hospital opened and Rachel saw Moira sitting inside the reception area. She was without makeup and her hair was flat and without colour. She looked much older, thought Rachel but not unkindly. It was the truth but she wouldn’t say it aloud to Moira. She had worn a new denim jacket and a sundress with tiny green and pink flowers on it that Clara had given her, stating it didn’t suit her. Everything suited Clara, so Rachel knew it was because she thought Rachel dressed like an old woman, which she did because Moira had always chosen her clothes.
But Clara wanted to take her shopping for clothes and for ideas for the tearooms. Her world was so exciting now, but the sight of Moira made her feel sick. She took a deep breath as Tassie had told her to – she said it helped settle the nerves and blow the bad spirits out, and then the truth will be said.
‘I’m here to get you to sign some papers,’ she said as Clara had instructed.
Moira waved her hand at her. ‘Go away, I’m not signing anything for you.’
‘You took the money Dad left me and spent it and now you want to
