she’s made the right decision.”
After meandering past isolated farmhouses and lanes that were so narrow the sides of the vehicle sheared away the hedges, they arrived at what Maddy could only describe as something out of a painting. “Wow! Is this your house?” At the end of a long untidy drive, the rambling cottage was immensely pretty, with its thatched roof and tiny windows. The porch was a smaller masterpiece, with stout wooden struts holding up the quaint little roof. Brad had left the lights on, and they lit up the surrounding dark, chilly landscape like a beacon.
“Like it, do you?” Brad was proud of his home, especially as he and his late wife Penny had lovingly brought it back from years of being derelict.
“It’s adorable.” Maddy’s enthusiasm was akin to his own.
“Well, thank you. But you wouldn’t have said that if you’d seen it some ten years back. It was just a heap of rubble and rotting timber, with the roof sagging into the downstairs rooms, and crumbling walls where the rain poured in.”
He described how hard it had been, bringing it back to its former glory. “When we first saw it, Penny wasn’t sure if she could live in it. But I fell in love with it straight off, so we went to the auction, and got it for a song. The surrounding forty acres of land were auctioned separately, and as my lifelong dream had been to start a veterinary farm, where animals might convalesce, I bought the lot.”
“And have you ever regretted it?” Maddy was thinking of the way his wife had given him a son, and then was sadly taken. In her deepest heart she was riddled with guilt at leaving her own son. She couldn’t help but compare herself with his wife. But then, she told herself, there was a difference. His wife had no choice in it, while she had deliberately left Michael because her very presence had placed him in great danger. For that very reason, she must not regret leaving; only regret that she had ever set eyes on his father.
Brad answered her direct question. “I could never regret living here,” he said. “From the day they raised the roof and we were able to step inside, the cottage seemed to wrap itself around us, like a pair of loving arms.”
He gave a half-smile. “It started out so well. Life was good.” Pausing, he went on, “Then it was
The smile broadened to fullness as he reached out backward to ruffle the dog’s shaggy coat. “This scruffy fella might be daft as a brush, and at times he drives me mad with his scatty ways and bad manners. But he will never know how much I owe him.”
Maddy knew though.
She heard the tremor in Brad’s voice and saw the love in his eyes, and she imagined how, after his wife got killed, the dog remained loyal; an ear to confide in, a constant and protective friend who gave his all, and asked nothing in return.
On arriving outside the cottage, Brad opened the rear door and Donald jumped out. Running straight to the water bowl, he lapped up the contents and promptly shook his head and spattered them all over.
He then sat on his haunches, wagging his tail and looking up at his master with a hopeful gleam in his eye. “No, Donald.” Brad was firm. “It’s not your dinnertime. You can wait, like the rest of us.” Making a wide sweep of his arm, he told the dog, “Get off and do your work. Check whether them damned foxes have had any of the sheep away. Go on! Get off with you!”
Ushering Maddy inside, Brad took her on a tour of the house.
As they went from room to room, Maddy thought she had never seen anything so delightful. Every room was different; Robin’s bedroom had airplane curtains and the carpet was covered with Action Men, Lego and vehicles of all descriptions. Maddy nearly trod on a London bus as she backed out of the room, thinking it could do with a good clean.
“The lad’s staying at his friend Dave’s tonight,” said Brad, taking her back downstairs and into the office. This room was small and compact, fitted with shelves and cupboards and strewn with all manner of papers and files, and there was even a pile marked URGENT lying on the floor.
“As you can see, I’m in a complete mess,” Brad grinned. “But I do have a system. I mark everything.
“And does it work?”
“No.” He spread out his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I don’t get round to it, the piles get bigger, and then they send me threatening letters.”
“That’s worrying, isn’t it?”
“I know.” He chuckled. “But in the end, it might work out in my favor.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, if I don’t pay they lock me up. And if I’m locked up, I can’t work, and if I can’t work I can’t pay. So it’ll be
Maddy laughed out loud; she liked him. What with his wife dying and leaving him with a small child to care for, and then losing his loyal staff and trying to run a working farm and a vet business, he had taken a series of hard blows. Yet in the wake of all that, he could still smile and see the funny side of things.
“Right.” He led her through to the sitting room. “This is where me and my scruffy dog put the world to rights,” he said. “We have our dinner, cooked and ruined by me, then we flop down and moan at each other. Afterward, we fall asleep and on the stroke of midnight, he slinks off to his bed in the kitchen, and I stagger upstairs.” His grin was infectious. “Sad, isn’t it?”
Maddy thought it was wonderful, and said so.
The central heating was on full blast. Every room in the house was warm, bright and inviting. Brad told her how all three bedrooms had panoramic views over the countryside, not that she could see them now, as it was pitch dark – while from the kitchen window, apparently, the long, meandering brook was clearly visible, dancing its way through the valley.
“It’s the most beautiful place!” Maddy exclaimed. “I’m not a country girl born and bred, but I can understand how you fell in love with it all.”
As though he had known her all his life, Brad confided his great ambition. “I’ve been so busy just trying to survive, that things have gone wrong – but I will put them right,” he promised.
“I’m sure you will.” She had no doubts. “Especially as you seem so passionate about it.”
“I am.” He clenched his fist. “I must get the practices up and running again. When I was in my twenties, I went to veterinary college, got excellent grades and had a career all planned out. But then I went traveling across Europe, had an adventure or two, and somehow the time simply flew by. Then I met my wife. We saw this place, built up the practices, but when she died… I let them go to pot. And now here I am, with very little spare cash and spending all my time just trying to survive.”
“And was there never a time when you could use your veterinary skills?”
He went on, “the thing is, you need money and a barrage of customers to make it as a vet. One day though, I’ll clear the decks, pay the bills, and concentrate all my efforts on realizing my dream. In fact I’m already laying the foundations, in a small way.”
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Maddy admired his determination.
“It will be,” he said. “Lately, I let it be known locally that I’m a qualified vet, so now I’ve got a smattering of customers… it doesn’t pay though.”
“So, you do it for nothing?”
He winked at Maddy. “Not exactly,” he said. “Round here, we don’t do too badly. Y’see, it’s like this: we have our own special system. We barter.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, I stitch a cut or two, and we get a cabbage or three, or I help a sheep through a difficult birth, and somebody makes us an apple pie. For now, it’s just a case of one neighbor helping another. Primarily I’m a farmer. I make money by growing crops, then I have my prime breeding flocks; in one season, I might get four hundred lambs, which I then sell on to the next stage.”
“And what does that mean?” Maddy was fascinated.
“It means I’m a softie,” Brad said with some embarrassment. “I can’t bring myself to fatten them up for the meat market, so I simply wean them and sell them on, to somebody less squeamish than me, who does what a meat farmer was born to do.”
He then picked up his coat and a flashlight, and asked Maddy to follow him outside. He guided her down the garden and through to the brook. Starlight sparkled on the water. “What do you think of my bridge?” he wanted to know.
“What bridge?”
“Over there.”
Just then, she caught sight of it; made from rustic wood and twisted branches, it spanned the narrowest part of the brook.
“Oh, it’s lovely!” Maddy was mesmerized. This entire area was unbelievably magical, with ancient trees dipping their branches into the water, and the valley, lush and velvet, going away in the distance.
In all her life, Maddy thought she had never seen anything quite so beautiful. It took her breath away, made her forget her cares.
Cupping her elbow with the crook of his hand, Brad led her to a peculiar clump in the ground, where he shone the flashlight downward and drew aside the protective covering of newspaper. “See there – isn’t that amazing?”
“What am I looking at?” All Maddy could see was a remnant of newspaper and a mound of earth.
“Kneel down.” Squatting, he pointed and said, “Now… can you see?”
Maddy knelt and peered at the ground and saw a plant.
“Look deeper!” Brad shone the light right into the heart of the plant.
To her astonishment, Maddy saw a tiny, struggling, baby-green shoot coming right up through the middle. “Oh, yes! Now I see it. What is it?”
Reaching down, Brad covered the shoot over and drew her to her feet. “It’s a clematis,” he said reverently. “A magnificent climber. When we first arrived here, it was clinging to the side of the house, the only thing left alive. It was midsummer, and it had festooned the outside wall with huge pink flowers; its winding tentacles had worked their way in through the open windows, and it was almost as though it had taken over. Oh, and the perfume from the flowers was simply amazing!”
“So, how did it get down here?”
“One day, we had to go into Bedford town center to sort out bathrooms and such,” he explained. “I left strict instructions with the builders that they were not to touch the climber, that it was to be kept safe, until I could deal with it. But when we got back, the foreman had gone to lunch and his young mate had ripped it out by the heart and chucked it on a bonfire he was building. It had lain in the sun for hours, so by the time I got to it, the sorry thing was dried to a crisp. There was little
