The Pets at Primrose Cottage

by Sheila Norton

  ‘See?’ I groaned immediately. ‘He’s betrayed me, Kate!’

  She just shushed me and carried on:

  ‘Emma Nightingale, who has been running a successful pet-sitting business in Crickleford, was hoping to hide the fact that in her previous life she was none other than well-known celebrity Candice Nightingale, ex-partner of the rock singer Shane Blue. Emma had hoped, following the breakdown of her unhappy relationship with the star, to start afresh in Crickleford, living a simple and anonymous life, but unfortunately it seemed there were people within our community who had other ideas. Having managed to uncover her identity, someone appears to have found an inexplicable satisfaction from contacting the national press to let them know she was here among us.

  ‘This spiteful action resulted in Emma being pursued by the very publicity she’d tried so hard to avoid. Sadly, it happened just as she’d made herself a heroine to the people of this town by her courageous and selfless actions during the floods earlier this year, when she helped with the rescue of two elderly people, a stranded Dartmoor pony and a frightened cat. Sadly, once she’d been found by reporters from national newspapers, she felt she had no option but to leave Crickleford, and has yet to return.

  ‘“I can’t understand why anyone would want to spoil things for Emma like that,” said her landlady and good friend Lauren Atkinson, 35, of Primrose Gardens. “She’s a lovely girl and nobody here cares what she used to be. My little girl has been inconsolable since she left.”’

  I gasped. Holly was inconsolable? And it was my fault! But there was more. Kate glanced at me and read on:

  ‘“Emma’s not just a wonderful pet sitter, she’s a very special person,” said Pat Wilkins, 56, of Moor View Lane. “She took no credit at all for her bravery when she caught an intruder in my house while she was looking after my dog Pongo. I hope she’ll come back. Pongo loved her and so did I.”

  ‘“I’m very fond of Emma,’ Mary Field, 68, of Church Hill, told me sadly. “She worked hard at setting up her business and her new life here in Crickleford. If only she’d realised how popular she is with everyone here, she wouldn’t have left. People won’t turn against her just because she hid her identity. She had good reason, and we don’t blame her at all.”

  ‘I spoke to many other residents and pet-sitting clients of Emma’s, who all described her in similarly glowing terms. But perhaps the last word should go to Vanya Montgomery, 45, of Woodside House, who told me with tears in her eyes: “I really don’t know what I’ll do without Emma. I can’t trust anyone else with my beautiful pedigree cat. Emma was absolutely wonderful with her. I have a very good idea who was behind this leak to the national press and I’m furious that poor Emma felt she had to run away from all the people in Crickleford who love her, just because of some idiot’s venomous actions. Please tell Emma through your paper that we don’t care about her past. We want her back. We need her back!”

  ‘It seems the people of Crickleford are unanimous in their outpouring of love and regret. Candice Nightingale may have been a celebrity, a so-called “It” Girl with a past that’s irresistible to some journalists on the national papers. But to us, she’s not Candice, she’s just Emma Nightingale of Primrose Pets. This newspaper has only one thing to say to those journalists: Print what you like. Nobody cares. It’s yesterday’s news. And if you come to Crickleford again looking for Emma when she comes back, as we hope she soon will, you are sure to be chased out of town. This newspaper says: “Come back Emma! Crickleford needs you.”’

  Kate stopped reading, but I sat staring at her with my mouth open. I couldn’t speak. I’d never felt so completely gobsmacked in my life.

  ‘Wait!’ she said suddenly, although I hadn’t moved an inch. ‘There’s something scrawled on the bottom of the page.’ She screwed up her eyes, and then looked up at me, smiling. ‘It says: “But I need you the most. I love you. Matt.”’

  ‘Oh,’ was all I could say. I opened and shut my mouth and said it again: ‘Oh!’

  ‘You’d better get back there, girl,’ Kate said briskly, but I heard the wobble in her voice. ‘There’s a whole town that needs you, by the sound of it. And a man who needs you even more.’

  ‘Do you think he really means it?’ I asked in a little voice.

  ‘Of course he does!’ She sounded exasperated now. ‘What planet are you on? Look what this guy’s done for you! He must have known you could have hated him for outing you like this, but he’s taken the risk – God knows he tried hard enough to persuade you first, with all those calls and messages.’ She sighed and put her arm round me. ‘Look, he obviously knows the story’s going to come out sooner or later, Emma,’ she went on more quietly. ‘So he’s decided to get in first. To pre-empt it all. To show you in a positive light, so that nobody’s in any doubt how popular you are in Crickleford, no matter what.’

  ‘Not to everybody. Not to the bastard who told the tabloids about me,’ I said. Vanya’s comments in the article had, of course, left me in no doubt about who’d given me away to the press. So much for me supposing Rob had other things on his mind and wouldn’t think any more about my background. Perhaps he blamed me for his divorce and had decided to get even.

  ‘But who cares what he thinks?’ Kate said. ‘If it’s that pervy guy you told me about. You said he’d left town now that his wife’s divorcing him, and hopefully it’ll be for good. Look, there might be some salacious gossip for a while, especially if the details of your break-up do come out.’ She grinned, and to my own surprise I smiled back. Was it really so important any more if that story broke? If people gossiped? As Matt had said, who could blame me, really, for what I did to Shane and those two bitches? ‘But from what Matt’s written here,’ Kate went on, tapping the paper with her finger, ‘I think most of the community will defend you to their last breaths.’

  ‘I do miss Crickleford,’ I admitted now, my heart beginning to race. ‘And, well, of course I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss Matt the most.’

  ‘So call him, Emma, for God’s sake. Get yourself back there. Why waste any more time?’ She hugged me and spoke close to my ear now, the way we whispered in the night when we were teenagers sharing our room. ‘I’ll miss you, you know that. I always miss you. But I’ve never seen you as miserable as you’ve been since you ran away from Crickleford. It’s where you belong, where you’ve made your life now. Matt’s been patient, but he might not wait forever.’

  That was enough to get me motivated. I called him as soon as Kate had left. It had been so long since I’d spoken to him, I felt like a teenager making a call to her first crush.

  ‘Emma. At last!’ he said softly, as soon as he answered the phone.

  ‘Matt, I got the paper, your story, I don’t know what to say,’ I gabbled, too flustered to make much sense.

  ‘Are you annoyed? Was it a mistake?’ he asked anxiously.

  ‘Of course not. It’s brilliant. Thank you so much. But you’ve made me sound like a … well, like somebody much nicer than I really am.’

  ‘Somebody nicer than Candice, perhaps. But exactly like Emma Nightingale.’ He paused for a moment and then went on, ‘I didn’t know what else to do. You wouldn’t answer my calls or anything – have you got that bloody phone turned off? You can’t tell me you haven’t got any signal up there in the Big Smoke.’

  ‘Loughton isn’t quite the Big Smoke,’ I said, laughing. ‘Speaking of which, how did you find out my address?’

  ‘I’m a journalist, Emma,’ he said. ‘I can find out anything. Actually I’d made up my mind to come to Loughton myself if you still didn’t get in touch. And I might just do that anyway,’ he added. ‘I can’t wait any longer. There’s an Emma-shaped hole in my life here.’

  ‘You’ve no need,’ I said, smiling from ear to ear now. ‘I’m coming back to Crickleford. There’s … a Matt-shaped hole in my life, too.’

  ‘You’re coming back? Yay!’ He sounded just like a little kid getting excited about Christmas. ‘I can’t wait! When?’
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  ‘As soon as I’ve said goodbye to my dead-end job. I suppose they’ll expect a week’s notice.’

  ‘Another whole week?’ He groaned. ‘It’ll be the longest week ever. I’ve been so grumpy with everyone here since you left. I’ve had two official warnings from my editor about not smiling enough.’

  I laughed. ‘No you haven’t!’

  ‘No. Actually, I’ve got a promotion. Senior reporter. And I’ve been offered the chance to write a column for the paper every week too – something I’ve always wanted, Emma. It’s going to be called “Crickleford People”. The boss liked the way I wrote about you, so every week I’m going to interview someone different; a Crickleford character, you know? I’m starting with Annie from Ye Olde Tea Shoppe.’

  ‘A good place to start!’ I agreed. ‘Oh, Matt, I’m so pleased for you. Congratulations.’

  ‘Never mind about all that. Just hurry up back!’

  I didn’t need telling twice. I was working at the supermarket that evening, so I handed in my notice straight away. I’d already told my landlady I was going. And when I called on my parents the next day to tell them, their response was both instant and surprising.

  ‘Next Sunday? OK, we’ll drive you,’ my mum said.

  ‘Yes,’ Dad agreed. ‘It’s about time we came down to see Crickleford again.’

  ‘And it’s about time we met this young man you’ve been moping over,’ Mum added with a wink at me. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll only stop for a cup of tea or whatever and come straight back. We won’t want to get in the way of your reunion.’

  ‘Oh!’ I said, somewhat bewildered by the whole idea of them coming down with me. ‘Well, thank you, but of course you should stay over. I’ll ask Matt to book you into one of the pubs, though. Lauren hasn’t got another spare room.’

  I’d been half expecting Lauren, when I’d called her with the news that I was going back, to say that she’d let my room out to someone else. ‘Oh, no, I haven’t bothered,’ she’d said, which seemed a bit odd. ‘I’m really glad you’re coming back. The room’s still waiting for you.’

  And so it was agreed. The following weekend I hugged my sister and her family goodbye yet again, with a promise to see them at Christmas. And with my bag stowed in Dad’s car, we were on our way. Every nerve in my body was quivering with excitement. I could hardly believe I was leaving home again … leaving home, and yet going home. Home to Crickleford.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  As we drove over the Crickle Bridge and into the town, the memories of the night of the flood came rushing back to me. There must have been a massive clean-up operation here after the floodwater retreated. I felt bad now for deserting all my friends in Crickleford, when I could have been helping them. The Bartons’ house looked as spick and span as before, the river flowing past at its normal level and their rowing boat presumably back under the tarpaulin I could see at the side of the house. I wondered who’d taken it back, but that must have been the least of their worries when the poor things got back from their Australian holiday to find their house half submerged.

  It was the middle of the afternoon, and already people had their Christmas lights twinkling in their windows. There was a big Christmas tree in the Town Square, an illuminated Father Christmas, and a HAPPY CHRISTMAS! banner strung between the lampposts.

  ‘Nothing seems to have changed here since we came for holidays when you were children,’ Dad commented as he drove slowly down Fore Street.

  ‘No,’ I said, smiling happily out of the car window at the familiar shops, now all decorated up for Christmas shopping; the church, where another Christmas tree had been erected with some lights that seemed to be flashing rather erratically; the pub, with festive lights around its windows; the castle up on the hill, floodlit in the December gloom; the Olde Tea Shoppe …

  ‘Oh!’ I said suddenly. ‘What’s going on here? Stop a minute, Dad – is that some kind of protest meeting or what?’

  There was a large crowd of people outside the tea shop, spilling into the road, some of them holding flags or banners of some sort. As we pulled over, my phone rang.

  ‘How far away are you now?’ Matt asked. It was the tenth time he’d called to ask the same question.

  ‘We’re here!’ I squawked. ‘I mean, we’re in Fore Street – but what’s happening at Annie’s?’

  ‘Oh! You got here sooner than we thought. Stay where you are!’ he yelled in response, and hung up. I stared at my phone, puzzled.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ Mum asked.

  And then the door was flung open and Matt was there, beside me, trying to pull me out of the car before I’d even managed to undo my seatbelt. And while I was still being clasped in his arms, there was a huge shout from the crowd milling around outside the tea shop.

  ‘She’s here! Welcome back, Emma! Welcome back to Crickleford!’

  WELCOME BACK EMMA! screamed the banner being waved by Annie and her son Kieran, who was presumably home from Bristol Uni for Christmas. I stared around the crowd. There was Lauren, with Jon and Holly, waving flags. Mary was standing next to them, with little Scrap on his lead barking with excitement, and with her, her neighbour Jackie, owner of the two rabbits. There was Pat Wilkins talking to her neighbour Hattie, as Pongo the Alsatian strained at his lead between them. There was Vanya Montgomery, on her own and looking pleased about it. There were Gary of the Koi carp pond, and Billie and Carl whose hamster I nearly lost. Behind them were Karen and Mike whose budgie had insulted me – Karen holding their new-born baby. And on the edge of the crowd were Mr and Mrs Barton, accompanied by Stan and Madge, who we’d helped to rescue in the flood. I even spotted young Josh, my erstwhile burglar, in the crowd, looking surprisingly smart and grown-up. I hoped his brush with the law – and with Pongo – had given him enough of a fright to teach him a lesson. Perhaps he’d be let off with a fine and community service and he’d stay out of trouble in future. As the crowd called my name and cheered and clapped, and someone started to sing a rather out-of-tune rendition of ‘For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow’, Annie approached me and gave me a hug.

  ‘You’re right welcome back in Crickleford, maid. We’ve opened up special for you on a Sunday. This your folk?’ She pointed at my parents, who were still sitting in the car, looking stunned. ‘Bring them inside the warm for a leak of tea and some stay-stomach. I’ve got some scones fresh out the oven.’

  ‘Mind ye olde steppe, Mum,’ I warned her as I took her arm and led her to the door. I caught Annie’s eye and we both laughed.

  ‘This is all … just absolutely amazing,’ I told Matt when we were settled at a table with everyone chattering around us. ‘Did you organise it?’

  ‘With the help of a few of your friends here,’ he said, smiling down at me. ‘Now do you see how much people here care about you?’

  ‘But I lied to them,’ I said, hanging my head. ‘I made up so many stupid stories.’

  ‘Do you think we didn’t realise that?’ It was Lauren, sitting down opposite me now and smiling broadly. She looked different, somehow, in a way I couldn’t quite put my finger on. ‘We knew you didn’t want to tell us everything about yourself, Emma. We respected that.’

  ‘I kind of guessed that your house hadn’t burned down,’ Mary said quietly from behind me. She lowered her voice a little more. ‘And your parents seem very nice. But I had a feeling they probably hadn’t taken in refugees.’

  ‘We all knew you had a secret,’ Vanya joined in, touching my hand gently. ‘But we didn’t care what it was. We guessed you’d tell us when you were ready. We just loved the way you looked after our animals.’

  ‘And how you stopped the burglaries,’ said Pat. ‘With Pongo’s help, of course,’ and young Josh blushed and looked at the floor.

  ‘And the way you got stuck in and helped when the floods came,’ called out Pete, the Bartons’ neighbour, and there was another round of applause.

  ‘And the way you … just fitted in here,’ someone else said. ‘Almost as if you we
re Devon born and bred.’

  ‘Not like you were one of those stuck-up folk from up-country,’ another voice chimed in, ‘begging your pardon, Emma’s mum and dad.’

  Everyone laughed, including Mum and Dad, and they all toasted me with their cups of tea.

  ‘I really thought you’d have let my room to someone else by now,’ I said to Lauren when it had quietened down again. ‘I’m glad you didn’t, obviously, but—’

  ‘I was going to explain that later, Emma,’ she said. ‘We’re thrilled to have you back – that goes without saying. But we weren’t bothering to let the room out to anyone else. I’m sorry to say my dad finally passed away back in October—’

  ‘Oh, Lauren, I’m so sorry,’ I said, but she shook her head quickly.

  ‘It wasn’t a tragedy. He’d been very poorly for a long time, and he’d had enough. I lost him years ago, really. But – this sounds bad, but you see, it meant we weren’t so desperate for money, to pay the care home fees.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ I said.

  ‘And anyway, eventually we’re going to need that little bedroom. Not for a while, don’t worry. And the baby can sleep in our room to start with, obviously.’

  ‘The baby?’ I yelled, and I jumped up to hug her, nearly sending everyone’s tea and scones flying. ‘Oh, that’s wonderful – congratulations!’

  ‘I’m going to be a Big Sister,’ Holly announced solemnly. ‘The baby will need me, because it won’t know anything.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said, giving her a hug too. ‘Big Sisters are very important people.’

  ‘The baby has to wait inside Mummy’s tummy until the summer,’ she explained. ‘I’ll be five by then. Babies take ages to get borned. I know that because Mrs Jones told us.’

  I’d forgotten about the all-knowing Mrs Jones. I grinned at Lauren. ‘You’ll have to tell me when you need me to vacate the room, then.’