She walked down to the village and took a few snaps, then followed up with a text to Joshua, complete with pictures to show him how gorgeous the village was, and asked him to sort out something nice for Clara; and then sent the same pictures to her parents and to Sadie, her best friend.
The farm shop was still open, so she decided to go and have a quick look around. It was an amazing place, full of fresh food, local artwork and jewellery, and even some locally made cosmetics; she picked up an adorable knitted dachshund for her niece Hannah, and some enamelled earrings and honey hand cream that she knew her mum would love.
But when she went to pay, she saw the dog curled up in a basket next to the till. ‘Truffle?’
The dog gave a thump of her tail. Just one, but at least it was recognition of sorts.
The woman at the till looked at her. ‘Now, lass, I don’t know you, but you clearly know our Truffle, so would I be right in guessing that you’re my new neighbour—the London doctor who’s swapped jobs with our Clara for six months?’
‘Yes,’ Georgie said. ‘Georgina Jones—though please call me Georgie.’
‘Nice to meet you, Georgie,’ the woman said. ‘I’m Janie Morris. You might see our sheep peering through your window at some point.’
Georgie blinked. ‘Sheep?’
‘My Donald and I run the rare breeds farm as well as the shop,’ Janie said, ‘and our sheep are in the field next to Hayloft Cottage. They’re a wee bit nosy. Welcome to Scotland.’ She rang Georgie’s purchases through the till. ‘My mum knits the dogs.’
‘It’s for my niece,’ Georgie said.
‘I hope she’ll love it.’ Janie took a thistle-shaped piece of shortbread and wrapped it deftly in greaseproof paper. ‘Here. Something to have with your coffee. I made it myself this morning.’
‘Thank you.’ Georgie was shocked to find herself close to tears. This was the nearest thing she’d had to a welcome since coming here, and it made her feel ridiculously homesick.
‘Now, I know Clara and Ryan work all hours, so I’m guessing you’ll be the same. If you need milk or bread, or you want me to put anything by from the deli for you, just send me a text and I’ll drop it off. I’m only next door and I’ve got a spare key, just as you and Ryan have mine, so it’s no trouble. We can sort out the money side of it later.’
‘That’s so kind of you,’ Georgie said. ‘Thank you.’
‘Ryan will give you my number,’ Janie said.
And that was where this whole thing would fall down. Georgie couldn’t imagine Ryan doing anything to help. He was way too prickly.
‘He’s a nice boy, Ryan,’ Janie added.
Maybe in a parallel universe Ryan was nice, but Georgie smiled in lieu of contradicting her new neighbour. Least said, soonest mended.
‘I assume you came to collect Truffle?’ Janie asked.
How did she explain that she’d had no idea Truffle was here—Ryan had said the dog was with Janie, but not who Janie was—and she knew nothing about dogs? ‘I, um—yes.’ Then she thought of a nice way of saying no. ‘That is, if Ryan left her lead?’
‘He did.’
No excuses, then. She’d have to collect the dog, now.
Janie smiled at her. ‘And you’ve some poo bags?’
‘No,’ Georgie said.
‘That’s no bother. I have some here.’ Janie took a couple of bags from a drawer.
‘Thank you.’
‘I often look after Truffle for Ry, when he’s at work,’ Janie said. ‘She’s a good girl. Shy, but a sweetheart.’
When she produced Truffle’s lead, Georgie was left with no choice but to take the dog back to the cottage with her. And Truffle did the biggest poo in the world, halfway up the lane. Followed by another one about twenty steps later. Oh, great. This wasn’t Bonnie Scotland, it was more like Pooey Scotland, she thought wryly. She left the two bags on top of the dustbin when she got back to the cottage—hopefully Ryan would tell her where to dispose of them when he got back—and looked at the dog.
‘I have no idea what to do with you. I don’t know if I’m supposed to wipe your feet, or anything. So just please, please, don’t do anything that will upset Grumpy McGrumpface, and I will do—oh, whatever it is that dogs like. Not that you can tell me. But I’ll find out.’
The dog regarded her solemnly.
‘All righty. Let’s go in.’
Once inside the cottage, Truffle went straight to her bed. Though, when Georgie started making the chicken stew, the dog ventured into the kitchen area and lay down on the floor, looking hopefully at Georgie.
‘I’m not sure if I’m allowed to give you anything,’ Georgie said. ‘How about I put a bit of chicken to one side for you? Then I’ll ask your owner if you can have it.’
Truffle wagged her tail, just once. Obviously the dog didn’t have a clue what she was saying, Georgie thought—but it was nice to kid herself. To feel that at least someone here wasn’t totally averse to her presence.
Christ, what a day. Reliving everything from the previous day, taking the police through everything he knew and everything the team had done to try to save the baby.
Ryan still couldn’t forgive himself for failing.
When he parked in the courtyard and walked into the farm shop, he was surprised not to be greeted by his dog.
‘Young Georgie collected Truffle earlier,’ Janie informed him. ‘She’s a lovely lass.’
Dr Snootypants, more like. But maybe she’d been nicer with Janie than she had with him.
‘She bought one of Mum’s knitted dogs for her niece,’ Janie added. ‘I think she’ll be good with the children on the ward.’
She’d better be. Otherwise he was going to ask for a replacement. ‘Right. Well, thanks for looking after Truffle for me. I appreciate it.’
‘I know you do, and
